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queers-gambit · 2 months ago

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Tower Scrolls

prompt: during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x intended!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.1k+

note: brain go wonky, don't take this too serious

warnings: we got angst! we got drama! we got spoilers! i think it's more hurt and comfort, but to each their own! there's cursing, character injury, canon-complicit character death, blood, depiction of abuse and torture, violence, is this a reader insert? i don't know anymore, but i think so. oneshot, filler, very abrupt ending.

Fire rained from the sky. Ash snowed on once white-sand buildings. Tension permeated the air. Blood irrigated soil.

Eregion was under attack.

Elves screamed in despair, Orcs snarled from outside the city walls, and no matter where you turned, you were trapped in this never ending barrage of violent misfortune. To the best of your ability, you manned the city walls and ordered the citizens of Eregion to find shelter, tunnel out of the city, or pick up arms and fight - fight for their homes, their families, their lives.

It was nearly a natural succession of power after dedicating majority of your life to Eregion and Lord Celebrimbor; a common presence, friendly face, such an outstanding ally that few hesitated to take your command. Yet you were met with resistance, some Elves rejecting your orders in favor of this "Annatar, Lord of Gifts," apparently sent from the Valar themselves to aid Celebrimbor in his creative work. They thought he was Lord of Eregion now, and since you were loyal to the previous Lord - who Annatar claimed had lost his ever sharp mind - you were looked upon with the same frown.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do.

You protected your Lord, almost to the extent of your life. Too many had already fallen, you refused to follow; insisting on remaining with Lord Celebrimbor for the duration of his efforts so long as Annatar was in Eregion. The immortal being wasn't keen on the idea, but Celebrimbor was much soothed around you - so, he agreed, on the condition that your Lord finish his work on the Nine Rings.

After escaping before, Annatar thought the best suited idea would be to chain Lord Celebrimbor to his work bench; knowing you did not have the means to break him free and feeling it was a safe move. However, as you witnessed, the will of the Lord of Eregion was by far stronger than that of The Deceiver.

"I cannot!" You begged your Master. "No, you will not ask this of me! The audacity you possess - "

"You must!" Celebrimbor insisted, taking your cheeks in hand to smush your lips in a pucker. "Listen to me - listen! You have always known right from wrong, but now is not a time for rationality, it's a time for action. He mustn't get the Rings, I need you to run with them. Run away - far, far away from here, use the tunnels - "

"I will not abandon you," you snarled, "nor will I abandon this city, not while she still stands!"

"This is bigger than us, bigger than Eregion," Celebrimbor tried to convey his severity, forcing the Rings in your hand - but you were stubborn. For all the traits he loved, he despised your pigheadedness the most - despite admiring it once upon a time. So, he managed to convince you to cut just his thumb off after originally asking you to take the whole hand so the cuff could slide off, but he downgraded to just his digit for the same desired effect.

"Go," you begged him, tears in your eyes as you wrapped his hand with a clean(ish) cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Go, please, before He returns. Do not look back, my Lord."

"Come with me - "

"I'll hold Him off to give you more time. Now, go. Go!"

It wasn't easy, but Celebrimbor left you behind. No sooner had you confirmed his escape did Annatar return; surveying the workshop and you with sinister eyes.

"Where is he?"

"With luck? Far from here. With hope? Even past that," you answered, stood in the middle of the room - looking as if nothing could phase you. All a lie, of course, but Sauron didn't need to know you were close to pissing your pants out of sheer intimidation. "So... You're Him? I have to admit," you gestured at him, "it's a bit of a let down."

"I have many names - "

"Oh, spare me the personal lore all of Middle-earth knows," you snipped, offering a stale look. "You need a new story."

However, Sauron smirked and circled you, taunting, "I know you know where he went. I know you know where the Rings are, too."

"Then have a look in my mind, see for yourself," you smirked back, "go ahead and see that I purposefully did not ask and my Lord did not tell. Go on, if you do not believe me, have a look and know you are wrong - " You were cut off by your own gasp when Sauron's eyes rolled before he brandished a sword to pierce through your foot and into the floor.

"Where. Is. He?" Sauron seethed in your face; hot breath fanning the fly away hairs.

"Away from you," you managed to grit, the sword in too deep to yank free by yourself. "You'll never find them," you laughed without humor when Sauron's anger got the best of him; storming through the workshop, tearing it apart, searching in vain for Nine Rings that were not there. In his anger, you obtained a series of fresh blemishes as he threw anything he could to the sound of your amusement.

Yet any glimmer of hope in your chest was doused, all traces of faith and humor vanishing when guards lead Celebrimbor back into the workshop; discovering the destroyed forge and you, pinned by a bloody foot in the midst. You couldn't move from your place as the guards surrounded Sauron with the intention to apprehend him, yet you saw the threat before anyone else. You begged the guards, your kin, your brethren, to back away, to take your Lord and flee! You begged them to run. You begged them to listen, to hear you!

But it was too late.

Sauron turned your people on one another and had them slaughter each other before disposing of the final guard himself. You screamed at Celebrimbor to run, nearly tearing the blade through bone as you attempted to reach for the man who had taught you your entire life. The man who gave you a chance. The man who built you a home. The man who introduced you to your intended. The man you loved like a father.

But Sauron's grasp extended to all.

Celebrimbor was beaten senseless, the Dark Lord trying to pry information about the Nine from him by any means. Yet your Lord did not budge... And that's when Sauron turned to you. "Please, no! Don't! She doesn't know anything! I swear, please, spare her!" Celebrimbor pleaded when Sauron ripped the sword from your foot before knocking you to your knees; bowstring pulled back, arrow armed and aimed at your calf. "She doesn't know amything!" Celebrimbor screamed as your first tear fell.

"But you do," Sauron narrated, loosing the arrow into your flesh. You tried to subdue your screams, but the immortal took to alternating between shooting you and Celebrimbor with arrows; though his struck lethally, yours struck painfully. To Sauron, you were a plaything; a token to negotiate with, attempting to withdraw information by offering you harm, thinking it was enough to break Celebrimbor.

He was mistaken.

You panted as blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth, wincing as Sauron's boot came down on your knee; smearing his heel into an open wound with you flat on your back. "She... She doesn't know," Celebrimbor tried again. "She is... She's the Lady of Eregion now, and I would not curse her with such a burden as you have me!"

"Oh, a promotion?" Sauron mused, glancing at you - but you saw his underlying desperation.

"Eregion is no more," you whispered, head lulling on the floor to meet Celebrimbor's eyes and smile sadly. Blood lined your teeth. "It would've been the honor of my life should I have been able to defend your city, my Lord."

"Our city."

"How touching," Sauron's eyes rolled.

"She doesn't know," Celebrimbor repeated in anger.

"I know," Sauron nodded, "I looked in her mind. Still, the bond between you is greater - perhaps, you'd be more inclined to share with her?"

"He'd never," you chuckled in delirium, "he'd never sacrifice this world for the likes of you." Another arrow thumped into your shoulder, making you groan as Sauron angrily tossed the bow aside. Fearing your life was soon to be extinguished, you whispered, "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord. I failed you."

"No, do not say such a thing," Celebrimbor insisted, Sauron stalking over you before squatting in front of the Elven smith, "for it is I who failed you..."

Sauron sighed, sounding condescending yet soft as he reached over to stroke Celebrimbor's cheek, "Look what you have done to yourself."

You didn't care for his poisoned words, knowing your time was limited - just like Celebrimbor's. Yet the Dark Lord tried one last tactic: mercy. He promised to end your joint suffering should the location of the Nine be revealed. Your Lord was defiant still. So, Sauron tried gaslighting, and when that didn't work, he begged, "Please."

Still, it did not work and Celebrimbor affirmed his time was ending... So, naturally, after he plucked up a spear, Sauron threatened, "There are ways of keeping you both alive." In Sindarin, he added, "Friend." To the look of horror on Celebrimbor's bloody face, Sauron offered, "Must I show you my mastery of that craft as well?"

"'Craft'?" Your Lord chuckled ruefully. Then he spat, "Your only craft is treachery. So pure, it shall betray the very hand that forges it."

Sauron stepped over your limp, bleeding form too casually, quietly seething, "Your words are empty."

"No," Celebrimbor insisted, sitting himself up slightly. "No, hear me. Hear me!" Your dimming eyes widened as your Lord found his feet, back against the stone pillar he had once slumped against as support. "Shadow of Morgoth! Hear the dying words of Celebrimbor! With only Y/N, Lady of Eregion as witness!" You didn't move, you couldn't... You were defeated, you knew there was no way Sauron would let you leave this tower alive. So, you listened and bore witness for as long as you were capable of doing so. "The Rings of Power shall destroy you. And in the end, I foresee one alone shall prove your," he shouted, "utter ruin!"

"NO!" You screamed when Sauron turned, shouting in anger as he strode over you and stabbed Celebrimbor with his spear. You could only watch in fearful disgust as the Dark Lord, still in fair form, hoisted the Lord of Eregion up the stone pillar as if a flag on a pole.

Celebrimbor was in obvious pain, mouth agape, blood dribbling from his slathered lips. Sauron's words were still heard despite the low, quiet register, "You're wrong. I am their Creator." He growled, "I am their Master!"

"No," Celebrimbor's head shook as if pitying the immortal. "You are their... Prisoner. Sauron, Lord..." He trailed as his life's light was snuffed, "of the Rings."

You let your grief manifest in tears, watching as Celebrimbor's eyes found yours - conveying his goodbye as he mouthed one last apology... Then deflating as his soul, as promised, vacated this form to return to the shores. You didn't voice your note of Sauron's single tear, just staring at your Lord in disbelief - until the Dark Lord planted the end of his spear to the ground, staking Celebrimbor above all.

"N-No, no, wait!" You begged, trying to turn over onto your stomach to pull yourself across the ground. "No, please, please, take him down - get him down from there! Please, do not - do not leave him up there!" You cried out as arrow shafts were irritated back to life, reaching blindly - helplessly - upward as if you could reach the Lord of Eregion from his hoist.

Sauron watched you for a moment, the Orcs heard marching up the tower. With a swift swing of his leg, Sauron kicked your jaw - effectively knocking you out and overturning your body to your back; splayed out as if on display... Similar, but not akin, to Celebrimbor - whose pooling blood soaked into your gown.

Through your unconsciousness, Sauron eventually ordered Eregion be razed to the ground, every Elf slaughtered, and the Elven leaders be brought before him - unharmed. He gave specific instruction for every scroll in Celebrimbor's workshop to be torched; his way of punishing you for your insolence over supporting and protecting Celebrimbor.

When you awoke, the tower was quiet. You stiffly lifted your hand to your jaw; rubbing it tenderly, letting your sight refocus and being acutely aware of every feeling in your body.

"Fuuuuuuuck," you whimpered, trying to sit up but being unable due to protruding arrows. You went limp again, feeling a single twinge of anger you had to wake up because your eyes caught sight of and stared at Celebrimbor.

You failed...

You gasped shrilly when hands seized your upper arms and heaved; lugging you over the shoulders of two Orcs as a third swiped at the arrows to break them in the most painful way possible. Considering their brutish nature, you would've thought they'd have lopped your head off and moved along - but instead, they began carrying you towards the door.

"Wha-What's happening?" You asked through a slur, feet dragging under you, spying one of the Orcs gathering scrolls and tomes you spent your life writing alongside Celebrimbor in their dirty arms. "Wait - wait - what're you doing? What're you doing!?"

"Quiet!" An Orc snarled, dropping the hilt of his dagger to the soft part of the base of your head where it connected to your neck. You were silent out of sheer pain.

Down the tower you were drug, brought into the devastated courtyard where Orcs snarled at you from all sides; the two that carried you dropping you on your shattered knees. You were held at knifepoint as Orcs streamed from the tower and dropped your scrolls and tomes in several different piles a short distance away. Head injury caused your sight to blur in and out, but you knew what they were doing... What they intended.

"Please, please, don't do this," you whimpered, hearing several Orcs laugh. "No... No, no, no, no, please! Don't - " You had no more fight as collectively, your records were so extensive that several piles were made, few set ablaze.

All around you, Elves were slaughtered mercilessly, bodies left behind where they fell; the sounds of the city dying with them as the Orcs ran out of the innocent lives to claim. You could only watch. Before you, the Orcs tossed banded lassos around the decorated statue of Faenor, evident their desecration knew no bounds.

Yet hope sparked... The blade at your neck tightening when you perked up upon seeing several Orcs leading few saved Elves into the courtyard - your fiancé one of them.

"Elrond!" You cried, the Orc snarling a hiss as the hand in your hair yanked back. You struggled to the point of blood draw when Elrond's sight casted on you - trying to escape his captors, but being held back.

"Y/N!" He called back, the High King Gil-galad at his side and finding you amongst the rubble, too. The King muttered something you couldn't hear, but to Elrond, he understood the Sindarin word: wait.

"Hey!" You snapped, blade drawing a line of blood from your neck; pressure mounting as he pressed closer. You growled in annoyance.

Faenor toppled to the ground, shattering the heart of any Elf left to witness - Orcs mounting him, ravaging for hidden and seen treasures. With Gil-galad, Elrond, and other survivors, the Orcs moved inward as if to ensure the Elves had a front row viewing to the incineration of their culture.

"Y/N," Gil-galad called to attention, earning several snarls and hisses, "where is Lord Celebrimbor?"

"Dead," you whimpered, Orc growling at you in reprimand.

Elrond's eyes swept over the scene and swiftly understood the impending doom. The largest of the scroll piles was before the Elves now, an Orc pacing around it with his torch alight, tears down your cheeks as you couldn't look away as if in a trance you did not realize.

"No, Uruk! No!" Elrond begged when the Orc went to drop the flame; you struggling against your captor, both hands around his meaty wrist.

"No!" Gil-galad's beg echoed around you.

"That is the full record of Celebrimbor's works," Elrond tried to make the Orcs understand potential ramifications. "The wisdom of all who ever dwelt in this place, all accounted by the Lady Y/N, whose work cannot be found outside Eregion! Its value is beyond jewels or even blood! Take our lives," Elrond gestured to himself and the King, you struggling again on horridly abused knees, "but leave it be, I beg you."

Perhaps you were far too used to people listening when your fiancé spoke because you eagerly sat forward best you could while thinking perhaps the Orcs would listen to Elrond. Imagine your acute and heavy despair when the Orc laughed manically and turned to shove the torch into the bundle of fragile parchment. "NO!" You sobbed uselessly, watching the last of your life's work go up in flame.

You fought against the Orc's grip as Gil-galad snarled, "Cowardly traitors!"

"You fucking bastards!" Your head reared back to (painfully - nobody wins with a headbutt) break the Orc's nose. He released you as other Orcs were wrestling Gil-galad to the ground, able to pick up a blade and take out three too-close enemies.

It was the first time Elrond heard such language fall from your lips, but all he could register was the Orc punching you in the jaw in an attempt to subdue you - blood spitting to the side, seemingly darkening a bruise already blooming. He's never felt such rage.

Elrond fought with his bare hands; elbowing the Orcs behind him, punching the ones before him, fighting to get closer to you. He got ahold of a torch, screaming in white-hot anger as he set the Orc that hit you ablaze; dropping the torch and taking you into his embrace.

"My love," he breathed in your ear, able to peck your cheek just as the snarling Orcs forcefully ripped you out of his arms. "No, no!" He tried to reach out for you, but both were wrangled in.

"Please, don't! NO! No, no, no!" You gasped when Elrond was taken in custody, yet it wasn't you who saved him.

Another Orc reminded, "No! Lord Sauron wanted their leaders unharmed."

"Well, what about her? She looks injured," A different Orc growled, jostling your shoulder and pointing his dagger at your throat. Elrond was forced to his knees as you were, facing one another.

"Lord Sauron did that, said to discipline her should she resist," the Orc answered in a hiss, others shoving more Elves into the courtyard - including Arondir from the battlefield. A blade was held to Elrond's throat as your head bowed in the heat of the bonfire; being ripped up by your hair and forced to turn to watch the flames. The Orcs noticed the pair of you seemingly cared more about the literature than your lives, so, they thought you should relish in this moment.

So Elrond was held in a similar position, but his sight was on you; watching you crumple into despair while more Orcs tossed the last of the scrolls into the flames. Your life, since a youthful student, had been spent intermittently in Eregion under the care of Lord Celebrimbor, whom you thought of as an adoptive father, learning heraldry. He let you work at his side, keeping accurate, detailed record of his philosophies, ideas, processes, and creations for the histories. Yet, now, they wafted into the air as ash - lost to this Age, never to be recovered or duplicated or seen again.

Once more, you dropped your head, earning a backhand to the temple. Gritting your teeth, you let the Orc force your head up but shut your eyes tightly, defiantly; hearing their breathing turn ragged. "Cut her eyelids open!" An Orc barked.

"That's not what Lord Sauron said," another seethed with refusal.

"She's resisting!"

An Orc scoffed and stabbed your thigh with a dagger, eyes flying open as you gasped in pain. "There! See!" It laughed, holding you in a chokehold as tears leaked down your cheeks. Elrond struggled and shuddered against his captors, hating the sight of you dismantling yourself emotionally, but to witness your abuse, he hated more.

Then, from a short distance, a horn bellowed.

"Dwarves!" King Gil-galad identified, the Elves rejuvenated by the surprise (and delayed) arrival of aid. In tandem, they began to resist; yourself included by ripping the dagger from your thigh and driving it into your captor's ribs; praying flesh came too when the blade was ripped free.

He grunted and shoved you forward onto your chest and hands, able to flop over to watch your approaching demise - only to discover Elrond surging up to the Orc and snapping its neck with his bare hands.

"Elrond!" You gasped when the Orc fell to the side... Dead.

"C'mere," the half-Elf you intended to marry panted, reaching down to yank you onto your bloody feet; catching you on his chest when your weight buckled. "I got you, I've got you, love, you're safe," he whispered, hoisting you into his embrace before turning for the stream of Dwarves. "Durin!" He greeted jovially.

But when the Dwarf turned, it wasn't the ginger prince Elrond knew like a brother. The dark haired Dwarf heaved a sigh, informing, "The Prince... Is in mourning," before rushing off into the fray.

"'Mourning'?" You repeated in a daze. "Over Disa?"

"His father, perhaps?" Elrond guessed, tightening his arms to lift you and turn away from an Orc rushing forward. He blocked the enemy's advance, trying to keep secure hold of you - leaving an opportunity for you to use the last of your strength to drive your dagger (still in hand) into the Orc's throat. "Good girl," Elrond praised as the creature fell, panting from exhaustion. "Can you still fight?"

"I can barely stand on my own, Elrond," you whimpered, gripping his neck and shoulders in a vice grip to remain upright.

He nodded, "Right." With a sniffle, he lifted you again and rushed for an alcove, depositing you in rubble before caressing your face. "How bad?" He asked softly.

"Enough."

"Let me see - "

"Elrond, there's no time," you snatched his hands when he attempted to reach for your skirt, "the city is under attack, it's falling to Sauron - you need to help them. Go, go fight."

"I won't leave you."

Your ears rang with the same words you told Celebrimbor.

"You have to, this is bigger than any of us," you repeated what you'd been told.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad was heard calling, Arondir appearing in the mouth of the alcove.

"Over here!"

When the High King arrived, he paused to take in the sight of the pair of you. "Good," he panted, "you're both alive. The Dwarves are aiding our escape, we must leave now... The city is fallen," he directed at you.

"You should all go," you sniffled.

With confusion, Elrond snapped, "Without you?"

"I've business to see to in the tower."

"The tower will fall," Arondir explained, slowly lowering to a squat to put himself on your level. "Whatever you think is left is lost, my Lady."

"Celebrimbor's in there. I was taken before I could get him down."

"'Down'?" Gil-galad repeated, "What does that mean?"

Tears filled your eyes, telling the trio what Sauron did to you and your Lord; the King insisting hope was lost and it was time to go. "I cannot walk," you whispered, shaking your head, "and my injuries surpass - "

"I will carry you," Elrond rushed, holding your cheek gently, "I will not leave you behind."

"No... She will walk," Gil-galad stepped forward, revealing his Ring of Power, Vilya. You were unsure what his intention, but Elrond moved behind you to let you lean back into his chest as the King chanted his prayers.

Yet you passed out before fully healed.

"My King - "

"She's alive," Gil-galad soothed Elrond, the hand hosting Vilya laid to your forehead, "just exhausted. She's been through much, far more than I care to fathom. Sauron took it easy on her, he used mortal weapons against her."

"He didn't intend to kill her?" Arondir questioned.

"He needed her alive - whatever the reason," Gil-galad frowned.

"Will she wake?" Elrond worried.

"I have faith she will, trust in the Valar," the King nodded. "Now, if you intend to fight another day, we must go. Now."

And so, the Lady of Eregion was smuggled out of the smoking city in the arms of the Elf she loved, leaving behind all she knew and created. By the Third Age, at least one scroll written by her hand could be found in every library of Middle-earth; and in the Great Library Elrond built for her, detailed accounts of Lord Celebrimbor's work as recalled and honored by his adopted daughter, future Lady of Imladris.

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after-witch · 6 months ago

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The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you.

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters.

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess.

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.”

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal.

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?”

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room.

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips.

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse.

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel.

“Then show me.”

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke.

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts.

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?”

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.”

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair.

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning.

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say.

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.”

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains.

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles.

“Don’t.”

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again.

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.”

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.”

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward.

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up.

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable.

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!”

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end.

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them.

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you.

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

#mahito x reader #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #afterwitch writes

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amjustagirl · 3 months ago

Text

chapter 4

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 5k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

When you blink open your eyes, you find yourself back in the Hoshina family estate.

The garden is exactly as you remember it. Bonsai trees, neatly manicured. The white gravel ocean raked with ripple lines. Heat shimmers off the ground, harsh summer sun bearing down on the tiled roof. A young man with dark hair and sad, violet eyes sits across you.

“Soshiro”, you cry, fumbling to your feet.

He looks right through you even when you’re standing right before him.

He’s wearing the navy hakama he reserves for formal occasions, the family crest embroidered in gold thread on the back, a ceremonial katana strapped to his hip. Something’s about to happen, you realise, the compound bustling with servants carrying paper lanterns. No one pays you any notice as you float behind him down the familiar corridors of the house, a ghost.

His father approaches, severe lines running through his forehead. “You know your duty”, he claps his son’s shoulder with a heavy hand.

Soshiro’s shoulders slump, an invisible weight bearing down on him.

His duty awaits outside the estate’s gates.

A young woman, clearly noble born, waits for them to greet her with her chin in the air, dolled up in matrimonial white, surrounded by a retinue of servants. She tilts her chin higher to assess her groom as he offers her his arm before bowing her head demurely, letting him help her up the stairs.

The sun in your eyes forces you to turn away. Another woman catches your gaze, the profile of her face backlit in the blue-grey dusk. Rough hands, a cheap, cotton yukata, she hides in the shade. Her anguish is apparent in the defeated curve of her mouth.

She’s you, you realise, with even sadder eyes.

This is a dream, you tell yourself. A shitty, crappy excuse of a dream that you probably caused by drinking one too many cans of beer. You really should take better to maintain a healthy REM cycle, maybe pick up some meditation or exercise, because heaven knows your psyche will suffer if your subconsciousness decides to torture you in your sleep too.

You close your eyes.

You still don’t find yourself back in your bed. Instead, the stench of manure hits you, then the scratch of straw under your feet. That sad girl - you, in another life perhaps, kneels before the same dark haired boy, Soshiro, still as a statue.

“The horse is saddled. We can ride somewhere, far away where no one knows either of our names, leave all of this behind. You don’t have to get married to a woman you don’t love -”

He’s carved of marble in the moonlight, doesn’t move to meet her gaze, not even when she tugs at his sleeve. “I am but a second son, but even I know my duty to my clan.”

“And what about love?” she asks. “What about me?”

Neither of them notice you when you tumble out of the stable into the night. But there’s nothing but darkness looming before you, the moon nowhere to be seen, and when you turn back, the stable has disappeared. In its place, a familiar, wooden hut, where a fire grows. The heat of the forge stings your face, ash flying, the smell of burning steel in the air.

This time, Soshiro’s in the lacquered leather of a samurai warrior from centuries past. “Is it ready?” he directs his question at the woman in the forge.

Wordlessly, she hands him the sword in her hand, red hot from hammer and tongs. He weighs it in his hand, swings it once, twice, flashing quicksilver in the dim light of the blacksmith’s forge. You recognise the blade. You’ve seen it hung up in one of many sitting rooms in the Hoshina estate, captioned as belonging to a Hoshina ancestor who never returned home.

You understand why her voice quivers when she calls out to him before he leaves. “My lord”, she says. “Will you ever lay down your sword?”

“Perhaps in another life”, he replies.

In the shadow of the forge, the violets in his eyes wither and die.

You cannot bear to watch this play out before you again and again, a twisted loop you’re powerless to stop. There is nothing you can do to shock yourself awake, a ghost in every lifetime you freefall through, so bone weary, you stop running, sink to your knees. Wherever you are, the nightmares stop once you close your eyes. The damp grass is cool against your back, the darkness becomes soothing. It’s easy to lose yourself to a deep, undisturbed sleep.

(wake up)

The thrum of your heartbeat starts to still. You think you hear a faint echo. It sounds like Soshiro.

For the first time in your life, you hesitate to answer.

(please, wake up)

“But it’s comfortable here”, you say to no one at all. “I’m so tired.”

The neverending grind of work, of long hours spent hunched over glowering flames and complicated weapon blueprints. The dull ache of heartbreak, the painful lesson of learning to be okay alone.

“Let me sleep”, you whisper.

The darkness holds you close, blankets you. It’s too easy to let yourself just be, no one to disappoint, no one who disappoints. You let yourself be pulled beneath the tide, the endless ebb and flow lulling you into a dreamless slumber.

Perhaps you could be content like this.

Perhaps not. You think of the menagerie of plants you’ve gathered, they depend on you for food and water. There’s a pottery class on Sunday that you’ve been excited to attend, an abstract pot that you want to attempt. You’re supposed to meet your mother for tea, you’re looking forward to feasting on peaches, in season in the dying weeks of summer.

Your eyelids are still heavy with the weight of sleep, but you force them open. A streak of pain that shoots through your right side, but you slowly sit up anyway. A sea of hydrangeas, shimmering violet-blue in the early morning light stretches before you.

An achingly familiar voice calls your name. You lift your face to meet the rising sun, feeling its warmth flicker through you.

Your heart begins to hum.

You’re not in your own bed when you crack your eyes open.

The room is too white, too pin-neat. There are clear tubes running from your arms, bandages restricting even your slightest movement, not that you really can do much other than shift about the too-narrow bed you’ve found yourself in, the sudden brightness disorienting you.

“Oh!”, an unfamiliar voice exclaims. “Call the doctor, she’s awake!”

Your head threatens to split open. It hurts too much to stay awake.

You fall back into a dreamless sleep.

You drift in and out of consciousness after that, the pull of sleep still irresistible, but you stay awake for longer periods of time. Doctors poke and prod at you, nurses fuss over you. It’s hard to recall any conversations you have during this time, your memories melding almost into your dreams.

People ask you questions about your name, your age, where you’re from. It feels as if you’re stuck underwater, it’s a struggle to gasp for enough air at times to answer them, but you think you find enough brain cells to rub together in the cotton wool jumble in your head, mumble the right answers so they go away.

Your parents show up to visit you.

‘’Llo”, you mutter. Your father looks strangely old, your mother tired.

You’re pleased that your mother brings chopped peaches for you, less so when you realise you have no ability to swallow solid food just yet. They disappear for a hushed conversation with the doctors, leaving you with little distraction so you drop back off to sleep.

The next time you wake, the room is dark.

Even in the dim glow of machines beeping, you make out the faint outline of a boy you know too well, curled up uncomfortably in a plastic chair. “S‘ro”, you mumble, half asleep.

A flurry of movement. He appears by your uninjured side, staring at you wide-eyed, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t disappear. You wonder if he’s another figment of your dreams because he stands so still drinking his fill of you, until he remembers to breathe again.

“Hey”, he says hoarsely.

“Mmph”, you grunt. In your vague, rambling train of thoughts, you register surprise that he’s even here. “S’ work?”

His laugh is wet. “Are you seriously askin’ me ‘how’s work’ right now?”

You frown. Why - why is Soshiro even here?

“I’m here for you, silly”, a warm hand settles on your left arm. “Go back to sleep. I’ll seeya later.”

You start to stay awake for longer stretches at a time.

Your parents gently fill you in on your situation. You were touch and go for a while, your mother recounts tearfully, your head injury making the doctors doubt you’d ever wake. You had to be cut open to stop internal bleeding in your gut, fix a multitude of shattered bones in your right hip and leg. Burns, on your shoulder and arm which required skin grafts, extensive medication to keep infection at bay.

Everyone treats you like you’re made out of glass even as your condition steadily improves, aided by the wonders of kaiju regenerative technology. Your parents fuss over you like a child, tucking you in too tight beneath starched hospital sheets. The nurses refuse to let you shower, only allowing you sponge baths which you detest.

Soshiro’s the worst of the lot.

At first it's endearing how protective and sweet he is. The doctors give him a wide berth, most of the nurses terrified of him, though he swears that he’s been utterly polite when you question him about it. He doesn’t allow you to do anything yourself, not even hold your own cup of water when you drink. Your bedside is overflowing with colourful greeting cards, half of them signed by him, and he brings you a fresh bouquet of flowers during each visit.

“That boy is besotted with you”, one of the nurses who isn’t intimidated by Soshiro trills in with her unsolicited opinion. “It’s adorable.”

He’s not”, you deny, frowning. “We’re just friends.”

It’s a little too much. The only visitor who doesn’t smother you is Sochiro, who snaps back to his usual self the minute you show a little of your usual snark. “Did you break your head too?” you ask, when he arrives bearing a hamper of fruit.

“Impertinent brat”, he snaps back. “I’ll have you know my father put me up to this.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s where your brother got his manners from. Pity you don’t have any.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t storm out of the room. Instead, he brandishes a small, silver knife and starts peeling fruit. “I never wanted a younger sibling”, he grouses. “Should’ve dropped Soshiro in the drain the minute he was born, then I’d never have to deal with your smart mouth -.”

“Aww”, you coo. “Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, getting soft in your old age.”

“Shut it”, he snaps, while stuffing perfect wedges of fruit into your palm.

It reminds you of the easy friendship you had with Soshiro, not the way he’s behaving, almost as if he feels anything more than friendship for you - which he’s confirmed to your face that he mostly does not. It confuses you, the tender way he treats you, the lingering stares when he thinks you’re asleep, and you much prefer him to go back to the way he was before.

“Stop it!” you finally burst, when his smothering becomes too overwhelming. “Treat me like your friend - not like I’m some glass figurine you’re trying to keep safe.”

A plastic chair screeches back. He stares at you. “Do you even realise how close you were to dyin’?”

“Sorta”, you reply, though some gaps remain empty in your memories, “but I’m okay now, and ‘sides, what happened was just bad luck -”

“No it wasn’t just luck”, he replies. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Something shutters behind his eyes. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.” He angles himself away from you. “I crashed into your building.”

“The kaiju threw you into the building”, you correct. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He lunges forward to grip your bed rail, his sudden intensity scaring you. “I could’ve been the cause of you dyin’-”

“My head’s pretty hard”, you try to diffuse the building tension with a joke. “Would take more than a fallin’ building to kill me.”

He makes a strangled sound of outrage in his throat. “Don’t. Just - don’t.”

His tone is devoid of its usual lightness. He’s - he’s angry, scared, face twisting into a scowl, body coiling, as if preparing for an attack. “You’re upset”, you murmur. “Don’t be.”

“You could’ve died.”

“Hey”, you beckon him forward, lifting your uninjured hand off the bed to place it on top of his. He grasps at it, a drowning man clutching at a lifeline.

“It’s okay”, you say gently. “I’m okay.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best”, you offer.

An angry sound escapes through his clenched jaw, his face strained. You brush the skin of his wrist with your thumb until the too-quick staccato of his pulse steadies.

“Go to sleep”, he finally says. “Just stay safe.”

After that, something shifts. Soshiro resumes the mantle of his chaotic, goofy self.

“I’m gonna yell at you when you’re better”, Soshiro huffs the next time he visits. “A daikaiju -it was a nine on the fortitude scale, y’know - decides to attack near you, and you not only choose to stay put, you run back into a collapsing building for whatever reason -”

“I was trying to save some of the blades -”

“How about you focus on savin’ your own damn skin -”

You sniff, deliberately closing your eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Oi”, he grounds out. “Stop pretendin’.”

The reappearance of the playful banter you’re used to sharing with him puts you back at ease. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” you ask, staring pointedly at the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “In a bed, not a hospital chair that’s going to give you a crooked neck.”

“S’fine”, he always replies. “Still way more comfortable than sleepin’ out in a forest durin’ kaiju hunts.”

“Still”, you insist. “You don’t have to visit me so often. I know how busy you are with work.”

He squints at you. “Do you not want me to be here?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it -”

“Sometimes work can take a backseat.”

You beckon him forward, place a hand against his forehead. “No fever”, you pronounce. “That’s odd - the Hoshina Soshiro I know would never say that unless his mind is addled by illness-”

He pulls away with a splutter, cheeks a furious pink.

But awkward moments like this remain, no matter how much you try to keep your conversations light, breezy. There’s a tension Soshiro carries, especially apparent in the broad lines of his shoulders. He’s nervy, jumpy almost, the unguarded hitch in his breath when he draws in just a little too close. There’s something he’s keeping in, deep inside his chest that keeps trying to explode out of him whenever he’s not careful.

There’s a glimpse of that when you tell him of your plan to move back to Osaka to continue recuperating under your parents’ roof. You’ll miss your apartment where you navigated much of your young adult life, the routines you’ve built for yourself. But you’re tired of living in the hospital, sleeping on a too-hard bed, without much privacy from nurses who pop in and out of your room at odd hours at all times. Your parents agree to ferry you to check-ups and appointments, and they even got your brother to transport your plants to make you feel more at home.

“You’re not leavin’ for good, surely”, he frowns.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug. “Izumo Tech does have offices in Osaka, and there isn’t much tying me to Tokyo anymore.

There’s a sudden lull in the conversation as Soshiro falls silent, face stricken. He opens his mouth as if to speak, once, twice, before shutting it deliberately, Then his face slackens into a childish pout.

“Don’t go”, he whines. “Who would I hang out with when I’m off-duty?”

Caught off guard from this sudden change in mood, you refrain from pointing out that you’d each taken turns to studiously ignore the other before. “You’ll survive”, you pat his hand. “And, on the rare occasions you actually find the time away from work, you’re always welcome to visit me in Osaka.”

“I will”, he replies, so seriously that your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“I doubt you’ll get enough time off work”, you brush him off lightly before changing the subject.

You don’t expect him to visit, not when Osaka is two and a half hours away from Tokyo on the shinkansen, but he turns up at the doorstep of your parents’ apartment with roses, dusty pink like the flush up his neck.

“Hoshina-kun”, your mother exclaims. “Come on in!”

Something is up. Your mother bustles around, ushers him into your room, lays out before him an offering of cut fruit. Surprised at the tableau before you, you blink, looking up from your book.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I do have days off, y’know.” He says, easing you into your wheelchair.

“Thought you said killing kaijus isn’t a nine to five job”, you remind him pertly.

He tweaks your nose. “Don’t be smart”, his eyes crinkle as he laughs, rolling you out of the confines of your parent’s house to a nearby park to enjoy the crisp cool autumn breeze, settling you down in the shade beneath a sprawling gingko tree.

“Well, how’s work?”

He considers you with a sideways glance. “I refuse to answer”, he says primly. “If I do, you’ll make use of it to accuse me of being obsessed with my job.”

“Aren’t you?”

“This is exactly what I mean”, he throws his hands out dramatically. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here -”

“Actually”, you tease. “Isn’t the train fare really expensive? Can you afford that on your pay?”

“The Defense Force’s generous enough to give me food, clothing and a roof over my head”, he replies drolly. “So I think my bank account can take the occasional hit.” Then, he shoots another mock glare your way. “Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about work or anything related to work.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to talk about”, you tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Idiot”, he wrinkles his nose. “We haven’t even talked about how you’re doing.”

“Me?”

Exaggeratedly, he takes a look around. “I don’t see anyone else I could be askin’ about -”

“You wanna hear about my boring doctor appointments?”

His eyes are wide, earnest. “I wanna hear about everything.”

The sudden seriousness of his demeanour catches you off-kilter. Haltingly you tell him about the long check-ups that take hours, the doctors being optimistic about your progress, the physiotherapy sessions you’ve started. You’re slowly starting to walk again, a few steps at a time, giving you hope that you’ll be on your own two feet by the time of your brother’s wedding at the end of fall, even if you have to rely a little on crutches.

“I’m talking too much”, you say, looking down at your lap.

“Don’t stop”, he urges. “Keep talkin’.”

A snort. “You’re gonna get sick of the sound of my voice”,

“What a silly thing to say”, his gaze holds yours, steady, sure.

There’s something impossibly soft in his eyes, a tenderness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t dare to put a name to it yet, don’t even dare to look too closely at it lest you lose yourself to daydreams that can’t possibly be true. Yet, in the purpling dusk, even though the seasons dictate that there be no summer flowers this late in the fall, there’s a bud of hope in your heart that starts to unfurl, petal by petal, twining itself between the ribs of your chest.

(i like you)

(i’m sorry)

You remind yourself that your heart is not quite healed. Stitches remain, fleshy scars pink and raised. Ventricles working overtime to compensate for the damage he’s wrought just months prior. Mercilessly, you prune those hopes like unwanted weeds, chopping away at errant stems and leaves.

“I’m tired”, you break away from his gaze. “Shall we call it a day?”

He makes it difficult for you to safeguard your heart.

Once a week, he makes the trek from Tokyo to Osaka without fail, appearing at your parents’ door with a bouquet of flowers and a bag bursting with fruit, whatever is in season - peaches and peonies, apples and chrysanthemums. Picnics when it’s sunny, cafes or supermarkets when it rains. Your mother has a sudden change of heart regarding him, always asking you when he’s coming to take you out next.

“Seriously, don’t you have work?” you demand. “You can’t keep coming down here, it’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he asks quietly.

“It is”, you reply. “It’s a waste of your time and money.”

With careful, calloused fingers, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “What must I do to make you believe it’s really, really not.”

You flinch, cramming your thrumming heart back into the confines of your chest. “You’re ridiculous”, you say as calmly as you can. If your leg weren’t still broken, you’d flee in the other direction, put as much distance as you can between you and Hoshina Soshiro, for fear of losing your heart again to him.

He’s relentless, a quality that makes him an excellent swordsman and soldier, though it does not bode well for your heart. You spend the next few weeks keeping your conversations light, unsentimental, refusing to allow that unnamed emotion budding in his eyes flourish any further, he remains undeterred. You catch him watching you sometimes, with something you don’t dare to name that bleeds into you, spreading the seeds of hope deep in your gut.

“I’ll be back next week to see you”, he always says. “Stay safe.”

You should tell him to leave you alone, let you replant your heart in another pot, give it a chance to learn to stop looking towards him for his light. But the words choke in your throat, and it’s all you can do to look the other way.

You don’t get any respite even at your own brother’s wedding.

It’s too large, too crowded an occasion, your parents booking out a banquet hall in an upscale hotel to cram in their swarms of guests. As the younger sister of the groom, you’re expected to greet each and every guest, thank them for their attendance even if you’d much rather be at home, warm and snug in bed. Instead, your head threatens to split open, your hip’s on the verge of falling apart. You curse your stubbornness in insisting against bringing your wheelchair, the crutches you lean on cutting into the tender flesh of your underarms.

“Did anyone tell you that you look beautiful tonight?”

As it was in your dreams, he’s in a haori, deep blue with golden thread, but this time he looks right at you. Your mouth goes dry and you can’t seem to swallow your heart back down your throat.

“Save your flirting for my cousins”, you retort, turning away. “They’re all aflutter at meeting you tonight.”

He doesn’t let you flee. An arm loops around your waist, sears through the silk layers of your kimono and smoulders. “You’re cranky cos you’re tired, so let me help you.”

You blame your capitulation on the absence of your wheelchair, not because you’re light headed from the sudden surge of helpless affection in your gut, as much as you refuse to allow yourself to believe his words. You let him steer you into your seat, palm flat against your back, heat suffusing into your skin.

“I’ll be here if you need me”, he says simply.

You don’t need him, you want to say, you can’t, but your mouth can’t seem to form the words when he leans in, tucks a stray strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, his touch feather light.

“Vice Captain Hoshina!?” As you foresaw, a gaggle of younger cousins goggle at him, drag him away for selfies and autographs. You don’t get a chance to speak with him again once the wedding starts, the seating plan placing him with his parents and other business associates of your parents, a few tables away.

The sheer scale and grandeur of your brother’s wedding isn’t what you’d have chosen for yourself, the cavernous ballroom feeling too large and impersonal, speeches dragging on for too long, but your brother and your new sister seem to radiate contentment, though you suspect the champagne toasts might have helped.

As the sister of the groom, you’re the target of your older aunts’ inquiry as to ‘when it’s your turn next’, never mind that you burrow into your seat, trying to disappear from sight, and when that fails miserably, try to divert their attention to anything, anyone but yourself. If you had full use of your legs, you’d make a hasty retreat by now, but you’re so painfully slow on your crutches that you’re sure even the oldest grandma questioning you on your dating status (or lack thereof) would be able to catch up with you.

“Ladies”, a smooth voice cuts in. “How are you all doin’ tonight?”

A boyish smile with a cheeky snaggletooth works wonders on elderly ladies, you learn. It gives you the chance to slip away to the bathroom, splash water on your face, shackle your heart back in place.

This brief reprieve doesn’t last long. Soshiro emerges from the shadows, pushing off the wall to pad quietly behind you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand. “You should be back inside -”

“I’m here to make sure you’re safe”, he replies. “Unless you don’t want me to make sure you don’t fall and crack your pretty head open?”

“Stop it”, you say crossly, your crutches clacking loudly on the floor as you speed up, trying to put some distance between you two. “You’re giving everyone the wrong impression.”

He follows right on your heels. “Perhaps I’m givin’ the right impression -”

“Just - just stop, Soshiro.”

You burst through glass doors to push your way onto the open rooftop in the hope that the nighttime air will cool the heat rising in your cheeks, but you miss your step, crutches sliding on marble tiles and oof -

Warm arms wrap tightly around you. You tell yourself it’s the shock of your almost-fall that makes you sag against a broad, lean chest, compliantly allowing Soshiro to tuck your face into his shoulders, settle an arm beneath your thighs, carrying you over onto a seat. A thick, rich fabric rests on your shoulders - his haori, you realise, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin.

“Are you hurt?” he drops to one knee in front of you.

The intensity of his gaze flays your chest open, exposing your beating heart, its stitches frayed. The spectre of the girl with sad eyes haunts you, leaving you terrified that you’ll suffer the same fate as her in this lifetime too.

“I need you to stop”, you shove him back, a trapped animal brandishing its claws. “I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want your pity -”

“Pity?!” he falls back on his haunches, gaping at you, incredulous. “Is that what you think it is?”

“What else could it be?” you demand wetly, eyes stinging. “Nevermind, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know -”

“Haven’t I made it obvious these past few months?” he asks, and you shake your head stubbornly, no. “What I feel for you - I’ve been goin’ crazy from the moment they told me a buildin’ fell on your head, so fuckin’ terrified I was goin’ to lose you just as I realised how stupid I’ve been -”

Your head swims. “I don’t -”

“I’ve loved you since I was eight. I just didn’t realise it til I nearly lost you.”

You push aside the clouds of anger and fear blurring your vision. You see Hoshina Soshiro kneeling before you, slicing his chest open with your blade to reveal his heart, pressing it bloodied and beating into your waiting hands.

In this lifetime, in this moment, he is yours and you are his.

There is no guarantee that this will remain. Duty will always call upon him, and he will answer without fail. That is his destiny, as much as he is yours. Realisation crashes into you, relentless waves pulling you underwater. You will have to share him with the rest of Japan, possibly the world. This too shall end, be it tomorrow or years down the road if fate smiles down on you both.

But even if his heart belongs to you for no more than a day, it’s enough. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“You love me.”

“Yeah”, he murmurs, moving so impossibly close that you see the violets in the depths of his eyes in full bloom. “And I kinda think you love me too.”

Instead of answering, you tug him towards you, tangle your fingers in dark hair, let your lips press against the seam of his lips. He doesn’t give you the chance to breathe, arm curling around your waist, his hand cupping your face so he can tilt your chin up to pour himself into you. You drink him in, greedy to take what you can get, mouth open against his, lost to the raging current of want, of love that pulls you beneath the waves.

“I think I do”, you say softly.

Hoshina Soshiro smiles at you, wider and brighter than the moon.

a/n: i hope this chapter soothes the anxiety from last week heh :>

squeal at me pls! muacks always <3

#hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soushirou #kaiju no. 8

297 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 10 months ago

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 3)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 7.2k words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️ CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, mentions of past sexual assault, amnesia, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, swearing, some fluff and comedic relief, padfoot's perspective. This one may feel a little heavier to some viewers - I tried to balance it out with light-hearted banter and fluff but please be mindful of the warnings before reading.

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How does your return to the Order of the Phoenix play out? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

Padfoot drifted back into consciousness from the end of the bed where he had migrated at some point in order to have a view of the door. His ears flicked but he didn’t bother opening his eyes as he listened to the room around him, after a while he relaxed back into the bed.

Again, he was roused by the sound of a whimper. With a doggy whine, he lifted his head and looked at his Y/N, asleep on your side of the bed. Your face was all scrunched up and you were breathing heavy as if you were running. Padfoot didn’t always know a lot of things, but he knew people didn’t run in bed.

He slowly crept a little closer and placed his front paws on your feet and rested his head against it, hoping the added weight would provide his girl a sense of security. His efforts were in vein though as you let out another cry. Padfoot got up and crawled to the head of the bed, and by the time he reached your head, Padfoot had changed back to Sirius.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, beautiful.” He whispered as he pulled your arms out from your body and wrapped them around himself before pulling the rest of you into his chest. “You’re alright, love. It’s just a dream.” He murmured into your hair, tracing shapes with his arm that wasn't underneath you across your back.

You let out a shuddering breath before relaxing into his embrace.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he laid there holding you in his arms as you rested, but he did know that he would happily sell his soul to spend the rest of his life like this.

Apparently, it wouldn’t cost him his soul if he wanted to stay with you in bed for the rest of eternity, but he may need to make some decisions regarding his best friends.

The door opened so painfully slowly that Sirius accio’d his wand into his hand, sure as all get out that someone had snuck into the house. A lifetime later, the messiest head of black hair poked into the room, and as James spotted the two forms curled up in the bed, the most shit-eating grin Sirius ever had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing spread across his face.

“Are you seriously cuddling in my house without me?” James asked, and that was all the warning he got. Before Sirius could reply, James was in bed on the opposite side of Sirius spooning him from behind.

“Prongs you wanker, get out.” Sirius whisper-shouted.

“Not a chance, babe.” Was all the response he got as James smacked a wet kiss on Sirius’ cheek.

Their arguing was interrupted by a gasp from the door where they saw Lily looking at the bed incredulously.

“A cuddle puddle without me?!” She commented before she too joined the bed. Lily crawled up and laid between you and Sirius, her head resting on your stomach; your eyes began to flutter at the intrusion of your nap. Sirius brushed the space between your brows with his thumb which caused you to crack one eye open.

“Good morning beautiful.” He winked at you, which was met with a scoff from James.

“‘Morning’ he says. Like it isn’t almost dinner time. You guys were about to miss the meeting.”

“James, must you ruin everything?” Lily asked, nuzzling further into you as you began to play with her hair.

“Yes. That’s his middle name. James Must-Ruin-Everything Potter.” Sirius muttered.

“Please, this cuddle puddle wouldn’t be happening at all had I not shown up.” He argued.

“Exactly.” Sirius countered.

A baby’s squeal could be heard from the door and when four adults looked, they were met with the sight of Remus standing with Harry on his hip looking at the four adults in bed with a look of ill-hidden humour.

“Well, Haz,” he started, “I think we found where everyone got to.”

Harry squealed again and held his arms open which Lily reciprocated. Remus walked across the room and to everyone’s chagrin gave Lily her child before joining the 'cuddle puddle' by laying his long ass body across the bunch of them.

“There are far too many people in this bed right now.” You said as the infant pulled at your hair.

“We’ve had fuller beds here, sugar.” James corrected salaciously. “Remember when we would push the four beds together in our dorm after adding extension charms to them and then all eight of us would have a slumber party?”

The room became deathly quiet then; the pain of losing so many of their little tribe still so fresh for the young adults.

“No, actually.” You admitted, which caused Sirius to bark a (somewhat nervous) laugh.

“Okay, that’s it. Out.” He said and gave James a good kick which launched him off the bed and caused Remus to roll off of everyone else onto the foot of the bed.

“We’re gonna be the last ones at the meeting.” Remus said as he helped James up off the floor.

Remus had met the others at the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow, and he felt giddy. Usually, he only felt this way close to a ‘manic moon’ as he and his friend’s wont to call it. Moon sickness could go either way; he could be pained and moody and stressed, or he could feel like he was high and had all the energy in the world. The next full was still two weeks away, but he felt as close to happy and flying on cloud nine as any 21-year-old werewolf-soldier could possibly manage in the middle of a war where many of his friends had lost their lives. He had a member of his pack back from the dead, and Wormy was going to meet them at the Weasley’s after being caught up with his missions and work in the ministry. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – his Marauders – and their Vixen would be together again. So yeah, Remus was happy.

“My, my, Moony.” Sirius smirked as he stepped out onto the porch, “I’ve never seen you so excited for an Order meeting.”

Remus scoffed. “Well excuse me if I’m usually shipped off to some obscure wolf-pack for my missions and never get to go to them. Besides, Vix is back and that feels good.”

Sirius’ smirk turned into a gentle smile at the end of his sentence. “It does feel good.” He agreed.

The girls had gone up to pack Harry up for the trip to the Weasley’s safe house. Unbeknownst to Remus, babies came with a lot of things. They joined the two men at the front door, Lily with a diaper bag that was nearly the size of the baby itself, and you had the child on your hip as he continued to tug at your hair. The saint you are didn’t even flinch at a particularly vigorous tug of your locks.

“Oi, Haz. Watch the hair mate, come on.” Sirius said with a look of mock disapproval on his face. Harry just screeched and clapped his hands.

“He seems quite proud of himself. He has no shame that one.” You said.

“Much like his father.” Lily muttered as she passed the bag off to James. “Poor thing is a carbon copy of an idiot.”

“Oi, said idiot is standing right here.” James said indignantly.

“Potter, you’re not supposed to agree with the title, mate, come on.” You chuckled, and Remus’ heart soared. Sassy Vixen is making a comeback.

“Are we ready?” Remus asked and clapped his hands together but paused at the sight of a glance being exchanged between you, James, and Sirius.

“Not this again.” Sirius muttered as he took the toddler from your arms. Remus smiled at the sight of you; you were wearing your patched denim jacket that had been hanging on its place on the coat rack in his and Sirius’ flat since you hung it up last. He immediately spotted the enamel fox pin he had bought for you when the group of you visited a small muggle town near Windsor several summers ago.

James sighed, “It’s her call, Pads.”

Your face turned pensieve. “You don’t want to go?” Remus queried.

“I don’t know that I should.” You clarified.

“You should,” Sirius argued “because you’re an Order member.”

“Who has been imprisoned by Death Eaters for months and can’t remember her time as an Order member, Sirius.” James countered.

“That doesn’t negate the fact that she still belongs there.” He spat.

“They may not want me there, Sirius.” You offered quietly. Sirius immediately stopped his arguing and looked at you.

“You have every right to be there, Vix. I will fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s true, he fought me the just this morning when I was skeptical.” James agreed readily.

“Yes, but now you know James. You understand. They won’t, not right away.” You countered.

Sirius sighed. “Love, please. I swear it’ll be alright, and if at any point you want to leave, we’re out of there, okay? But please, don’t not go because you’re worried about the others. They’re going to be just as happy to see you as we were, I’m sure.”

You searched his eyes for a few seconds before nodding.

“Not quite as happy as some of us were, I’m sure.” James snickered and elbowed Sirius, which was met with a hearty shove causing the man to fall off the porch.

“Enough, you two. Merlin, it’s like I have three toddlers.” Lily muttered as the five adults and one infant set off to the ward line to apparate to the next safe house.

Remus took a deep breath of the ocean air as they made their way to the Weasley’s safe house. He had to admit, he got to travel an awful lot during this war. He was only sad he never got to enjoy it as much as he wished he could, knowing he’d not likely get another chance to see these places. But he watched as James threw his arm over Lily’s shoulders and caused her to laugh at some no doubt asinine comment he made, and Sirius bounced Harry on his hip as you cooed at him from the other side, and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.

He split off from the group as they entered the house, the rest of the Order already present. He said hello to Molly holding a very tiny red-headed baby and tried to ignore the squealing of the many other red-headed children whizzing past them in the kitchen. He gave Mary a tight side hug before he spotted Wormtail across the room talking to Mundungus Fletcher and beelined for him.

“Moony!” Peter shouted as he spotted his friend, and they enveloped each other in a warm hug.

“Petey, mate, you alright?” He asked as he clapped his friend on the back.

“Och, busy as hell but I’ve been alright. How about you?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“I’m good, I’m good. Mate, you’ll never believe it, Y/N’s back.” He said, and Peter froze in shock.

“What?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I know, she just showed up at the safe house this week, James found her. Sirius is the happiest I’ve seen him in ages, mate. Lily too.” Remus stated. He clapped Pete on the shoulder again and looked out the room to see if he could spot his friends. Doing so caused him to miss the way Peter visibly paled at the news.

He needn’t search long for his friends though, because before he knew it you were standing six feet away from he and Pete, who he had his arm around, with your wand pointed at Peter’s face.

“Whoa Vix, what’s going-” Sirius started, coming up behind you.

“I’m not going back; I won’t do it.” You stated plainly, eyes and wand never leaving Peters face.

“Going back where, love?” Sirius inquired, sharing a bemused look with Remus.

“I’ve been good Sirius. I’ve been honest. I don’t want to go back.” You shot again.

“Y/N, nothing is happening. You’re not going anywhere.” Lily stated.

“Then what is he doing here?” You shouted.

The room grew excruciatingly quiet, and Remus slowly peeled his arm away from his friend. Remus noticed that by now the Weasley children, the Longbottom’s son and Harry had all been ushered upstairs by Nymphadora Tonks, so they didn’t even have the kids to distract them from the tension in the room.

“Erm, what is who doing here?” Remus asked cautiously.

“Pettigrew.” You spat.

Remus looked to Sirius hoping to find some understanding on his face, but his friend met his look with equal shock.

“Y/N, I...” Peter started, “I thought you were dead.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Why? Because Mulciber told you so?”

“What is going on?” Alastair Moody finally interrupted; your eyes never left Peter as you responded.

“What is Pettigrew doing here?” You asked again.

“Peter is our friend, Y/N. He’s been working at the Ministry so hasn’t been very active with the Order, but he’s been coming around more lately. We’ve been keeping him up to date with Order business.” James offered.

You seemed to pale at this information, your eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N, erm, why don’t you and I talk in the other room, catch up?” Peter offered, voice shaking. Remus noticed now that Peter had his wand drawn in his hand, pointing slightly up at you though kept it at waist level.

“Mr. Pettigrew, why don’t you put your wand down.” Dumbledore asked, watching his two former students.

Peter seemed to consider it for a moment, looking between his old headmaster and you. “Her first.” He stated.

Sirius turned to you, briefly making eye contact with Lily over your head before addressing the distressed witch in front of him.

“Vix, do you recognize Peter?” He asked carefully. He was answered with a curt nod.

Remus could hear Peter’s heartrate pick up., though he supposed having a wand pointed at your face could do that to a person.

“Y/N, why don’t we go talk?” Peter tried again. “Put your wand down, we can catch up.”

Your wand never faltered. “Show us your left forearm first.”

The room stayed silent. Sirius’ eyes bored into Peter’s, which were steadfast on you. Lily and James stayed perfectly still; bodies poised as if ready to run at any point.

“Miss. L/N?” McGonagall asked, and then all hell broke loose.

As Remus watched in what felt like slow motion, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds; a purple spell shot out of Peter’s wand, which you quickly deflected with your own before Peter’s short, stocky frame disappeared and a yellow rat was scurrying along the floor. Just as quickly, your body shrunk into a small red fox who began to chase the rat in earnest. Remus looked at Sirius and could see the actual moment that realization dawned on his friend’s face. It took exactly three and a half Mississippi's for Sirius to recognize that 1) Peter shot a curse at you 2) Peter transformed into his animagus 3) that Peter was trying to escape and 4) You were trying to stop him. As that information all clicked inside of his head, Sirius quickly transformed into Padfoot and began assisting you in Peter’s capture. Remus ran to the back sliding door whilst James ran to the front, ensuring Peter couldn’t reach those two exits. Moody ran to the fireplace whilst Lily ran to the bottom of the stairs so that Peter couldn’t reach the children upstairs. Padfoot and Vixen were heard growling and barking as they chased the fat rat who was squeaking frantically. Finally, after many chairs and side tables were overturned, Padfoot cornered the rat and Vixen shot in, grabbing it by the scruff and giving it a good shake as if telling it to stay.

The fox jumped onto the kitchen table, the rat struggling from its hold in her mouth. She bit down harder and gave it a shake which was met with an indignant cry from the rat.

“Enough.” Dumbledore stated calmly as he stood before the fox and the rat, his wand trained on the pair. “You can drop him now. He can’t go anywhere.”

The fox remained unmoving, its yellow eyes staring hard at the headmaster’s blue eyes while its chest heaved from the hunt. They stayed like that for what Remus counted to be 17 seconds before the fox slowly lowered the rat to the table and released its hold. The rat immediately went to flee, but Dumbledore was quicker. Suddenly, the rat became Peter once again and was incarcerated against one of the kitchen chairs, bound by invisible ropes. The fox jumped off the kitchen table and you stood back up from the floor beside Sirius, your wand once again pointed at Peter.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” James and Moody said at the same time.

You and Peter continued staring at one another, neither willing to utter the first word.

“Peter.” Sirius barked. Slowly, Peter moved his gaze from you to Sirius, and any worry he showed at the beginning of the meeting morphed into sheer panic as his eyes met a fuming Sirius.

“She’s insane mate, she’s obviously completely lost it.” He cried.

“You know, Mr. Pettigrew,” Dumbledore started, face impassive but eyes twinkling with subtle anger. “There have been rumours of a spy amongst us.”

Peter whimpered, “Yes! I know! Why do you think she’s here? Hm?” Peter exclaimed, motioning towards you.

“No son, I know it’s not her.” Dumbledore stated calmly.

“How could you possibly know that!?” The sod cried again.

“Because I have my own spies within Voldemort’s ranks.”

Anyone in the room could hear a pin drop. Sirius’ eyes widened and looked between his friends. Lily watched on from beside Remus, clutching his arm like a lifeline. Sirius was sure he could see steam coming out of James’ ears.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t dropped a huge bomb on the whole Order. “My spy has been on a dangerous mission for the past few months and hasn’t been able to be in contact with me. However, I heard from them approximately 37 hours ago.”

Sirius looked over at you whose eyes still hadn’t left Peter, whose face in turn was drained of all colour.

“I didn’t know exactly what they meant at the time, but they warned me to be aware of a rat amongst us. I see now that the warning was really quite clear.”

“Lift your sleeve, Peter.” Sirius demanded.

“Sirius, mate, please. I-”

“LIFT YOUR SLEEVE.” He bellowed. You flinched.

Sirius took an involuntary step closer to you in apology. He decided to shift his focus to you instead; knowing if he looked at Pete, he’d do something he may live to regret. Focus on her. Keep your eyes on her. He told himself.

“Peter, I swear to Godric if you do not lift your sleeve.” James seethed quietly before Remus ripped himself away from Lily and stalked over to Peter. Not at all gently, Remus ripped Peter’s arm from the invisible restraints holding him to the chair, which caused a pained whimper from Peter’s lips, and ripped his sleeve clean off his shirt. Clear as day, the dark mark was visible above Peter’s left wrist.

Stay focused on her. Don’t look away from her. Sirius chanted as he felt bile rise in his throat. She’s all that matters, stay focused on her.

Dumbledore reinstated the restraints on Peter as an explosion of demands were being made.

“How many safe houses has he outed?”

“Where will everyone go now?”

“Who has he gone on missions with?”

“How many of our people has he killed?”

“How many missions have failed because of him.”

“How could you!?” Was bellowed, and it came from Marlene.

“Marls, I-” Peter started tearfully.

“HOW COULD YOU!?” She screamed again.

“Peter. We-we’ve all been friends since 4th year. The Marauder’s since first. You and I, we...” James choked. “We grew up together I-I don’t understand”

“He killed them!” Remus shouted. This seemed to shock the room; some seemed fearful of what the werewolf might do when angry, others surprised by their kind-hearted friend’s outburst. But no one had to ask who Remus was referring to. “You fucking killed them!” He repeated.

“Caradoc...” Benjy muttered sadly.

“Gideon, Fabien.” Molly wheezed as she clutched at a pendant around her neck, Arthur pulling her into his side consolingly.

“If we hadn’t been at Sirius and Remus’ flat planning your funeral” Dorcas said, referring to you, “Marlene would have been home when her entire family was murdered.”

“Dedalus and Elphias.” Mundungus sighed.

“Emmeline.” Lily added.

“So, so many members of the Order have fallen.” Dumbledore agreed sagely. “Some because of Peter, some due simply to the nature of war.”

Peter stayed silent; eyes red-rimmed and lips pursed as if words threatened to spill out of his mouth if he didn’t clamp it tight enough.

“How long?” Sirius asked quietly, bringing all attention to him.

“What, son?” Dumbledore inquired.

“How long has he been the Death Eaters rat?” He clarified, refusing to even acknowledge Peter anymore.

Dumbledore watched Sirius inquisitively for a moment before he turned to face you.

“He first showed up at the Lestrange Manor shortly after the prophecy was announced, said he could help get You-Know-Who access.” You said quietly. Sirius noted how sickeningly pale you appeared suddenly.

“My son, Peter!?” James asked, but it wasn’t a question.

“He didn’t know if it was the Potter child or the Longbottom child.” Dumbledore stated curtly.

“But he was willing to give up two infants! Infants he knew. YOU WERE THERE WHEN HARRY WAS BORN!” James screamed. “How could you fucking do this?!”

“It doesn’t matter, James.” You mumbled.

“What-” James stuttered. “What the hell are you on about?”

Sirius again immediately moved closer to you worried James’ ire would now be directed at you instead.

“Nothing he could possibly say right now would excuse what he’s done. No amount of reasoning or explaining or grovelling will help you understand why or how he could betray you all. You will never be able to understand what, why or how he did what he did because you’re not like him. You will never understand because you would never have made the same decision.” You explained. “You can ask him again, and you can make him explain until the cows come home, but it won’t make any sense and it won’t make you feel any better. And quite frankly, James,” You paused, finally removing your eyes and wand from Peter to face James and Lily, “whatever comes out of his mouth will be complete and utter bullshit anyway.”

Nobody said anything; there wasn’t anything to say really. You were right - of course you were – but it didn’t make anyone feel any better. James still itched to have Peter explain himself, as if rehashing every tiny thing that took place over the last ten plus years would help erase the symbol of hatred willingly burnt permanently onto his forearm. Remus wanted to hear Peter admit from his dirty fucking mouth just how he betrayed them all. Sirius wanted him dead. None of it would make them feel better.

“How do you even know all of this.” Peter spat, turning to look at you. Just as Sirius was about to smash his face in for even daring to look in your direction, you scoffed.

“I was good for more than your death eater buddies little games.” A sickening smirk graced your face as you regarded Peter. “I would have been dead a long fucking time ago if not.”

“But, but he- but” He stuttered. You cocked one eyebrow as you waited for him to finish. “But Mulciber, he-”

“Ah,” You interrupted, “but Mulciber wasn’t my only keeper, was he?”

Peter paled. “No.” he whispered, but he never got to continue before you stupefied him.

The Order sat in an incredibly uncomfortable silence. Most members stared at you, who in turn stared blankly at Dumbledore. Sirius watched you, hoping for any emotion to betray your face. He was left disappointed and turned to join you in watching his old headmaster.

“What the fuck?” James whispered.

Dumbledore hummed. “Indeed, my boy.”

“Was, was this the meaning of this meeting?” Mary asked.

“Partially, yes.” Dumbledore agreed. “I felt it imperative that you all know of our leak as soon as possible so we could make appropriate alternate arrangements.”

“Like where the fuck I’m supposed to move my family now.” Lily muttered.

James rubbed a hand across his face. “This is awful, we’ve relocated so many times. I mean, Peter was going to be our secret keeper for fuck’s sake.”

“Mr. Black has access to a property already vacant and protected by the Fidelius charm.” Dumbledore offered.

“Absolutely not.” Sirius barked.

“It is the safest option available to us at this time, Son.” Dumbledore countered.

Sirius scoffed. “To me and James, perhaps. And maybe Harry, if you don’t consider what living in a dark, loveless, and evil pile of timber could do to a child." He paused to wave a dramatic hand in front of himself as if to say see? "But I am not bringing Y/N or Lily there with the amount of dark artifacts I know are littered about just waiting for a muggle-born to touch them. And that’s not to say what is waiting for our dear Moony there either.”

“I forgot you inherited that place.” Lily muttered quietly.

“Listen, the Order is running out of places to hide. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black already has a Fidelius charm in place, and it is empty. Once the semester is over, McGonagall and I would be happy to assist in the cleanup, however, Moody has a curse breaker ready, and Andromeda and Ted Tonks have offered their assistance as well. I don’t believe you would be standing here today, James and Lily, if Peter had been able to give away your location, but I do not think this can wait. We should not take the chance.” Dumbledore stated severely.

No one seemed to have an argument for the plan, though Sirius despised everything about it and Remus, Lily and James all hated the idea of stepping foot into a space so recently filled with hate. James momentarily envied you – how sweet ignorance would be at the prospect of living in Grimmauld place for the foreseeable future.

“Now, onto our other matters.” Dumbledore said, turning to you. “Your contact within Voldemort’s army, they sent you with something?”

With a quick nod, you pulled out a small, beaded bag from your jacket pocket and enlarged it before turning it over above the table in front of Dumbledore and shaking out its contents.

In front of the old headmaster sat Ravenclaw’s lost found diadem, the Hufflepuff cup, a gaudy looking locket, a black leather bound journal, and a ring. Remus gagged and pulled the collar of his jumper over his mouth and nose.

“Oh my God, what is the smell?” He mumbled through his shirt.

“Smell?” Marlene asked.

James chuckled, “must be a wolf thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure dark magic smells quite awful to those with the ability to pick up traces of magic.” Dumbledore stated.

“What are they?” Remus asked, peering over the table cautiously as if any of the inanimate objects could launch itself at him at any given moment.

“These, my boy, are horcruxes.”

McGonagall let out a strangled sound. “I beg your pardon?”

“What’s a horcrux?” Ted Tonks asked.

“It would appear Voldemort has, in an attempt to become immortal, split his soul into pieces and placed those pieces inside of these objects. It is very dark magic.” He explained plainly as if instructing one of his classes in Transfiguration.

“Jesus Christ.” Mary muttered.

“Is this all of them, then?” Dumbledore asked you.

“No sir.”

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, as if waiting for more information. “No?”

“No, we believe there is one more.”

“You mean to tell me that he split his soul six times?” Moody asked on an exhale.

“Seven is a magically powerful number,” You explained. “We don’t believe it’s a coincidence he has splintered his soul into seven pieces.”

“I see.” Dumbledore said. “And what is this sixth horcrux.”

You let out a huge sigh, “I...”

Sirius brushed your arm gently, moving to stand up against your back. I can’t do much, love. But I can be here. I’m right here.

“I think it’s Nagini. The snake.” You admitted finally.

“Fucking hell.” Remus groaned.

“So, what now?” Sirius asked Dumbledore, but Dumbledore appeared to field the question to you.

“We must destroy all six horcruxes for You-Know-Who to become mortal again. Only then can we defeat him.” You explained.

“Ah, but I suppose destroying horcruxes by throwing them down a garbage disposal won’t work?” Lily interjected. You shook your head no.

“Horcruxes can only be destroyed by Avada Kedavra, Fiendfyre, or honourable goblin wrought silver such as Godric Gryffindor’s sword after being infused with Basilisk’s venom.”

“Easy-peasy.” Mary commented wryly.

“Thank you, Miss. L/N.” Dumbledore interrupted, looking at you above his half-moon spectacles. “For everything. You’re contributions to the cause have been immeasurable.”

You swallowed thickly. “May I be excused?” You whispered.

“Of course, my dear.” He replied, and you took off out the sliding door off the kitchen. Sirius didn’t ask for permission nor wait around for further instructions before he followed after you.

He stepped out into the sea air and looked around, but he heard you before he spotted you. He followed the sound of your heaving into a metal garbage can beside what appeared to be a weathered tool shed. He slowly made his way over, not wanting to interrupt you until you were finished. I’ll never be able to get more meat on her bones at this rate.

You took a deep breath and wiped your face with your sleeve before replacing the lid on the garbage can and turning towards Sirius.

“Fucking hell, you scared me.” You sighed, bringing your hand up to your chest.

Sirius breathed out a chuckle. “My apologies, love. Didn’t mean to.”

You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself and turned to face the ocean. Sirius watched you as he tried to make it look like he wasn’t watching you by pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. The ocean breeze pushed your hair behind your shoulders, and you lifted your face to the horizon. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Sirius still thought you made the most beautiful picture.

“What did he do to you?” Sirius asked gruffly, not able to keep quiet any longer.

“Hm?” You asked as you squinted over at him through the setting sun.

“Peter. What did he do to you?”

You grimaced and scrutinized Sirius for a few moments.

“Were we just friends?” You asked.

“Hm?” He parroted your previous question.

“You and I.” You clarified. “Were we just friends? Before?”

His cigarette burned in his fingers, completely forgotten. He wanted to lie to you. That’s not true. He felt like he should lie to you, as if that would somehow make this all easier for you. But he couldn’t; he was asking you to be honest with him, he owed you the same.

“No.” He admitted quietly.

You watched him flick his cigarette into the field before pulling out another one. “Then do you really want to know?”

Sirius snorted. “No, I know that I don’t want to know. But I need to.”

Sirius stayed quiet as you fidgeted. He figured it may be somewhat less painful for you to tell him now when you didn’t remember him, than having to have this conversation when you did.

“Did he force himself on you?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “Yes.” Sirius cracked his neck in aggitation.

“He wasn’t-” you began before cutting yourself off.

“Merlin, Y/N, if you try telling me he wasn’t that bad-”

“No, I-” you sighed again. “No.”

He had so many things he wanted to ask. Who? How many? How often? Where? When? Where can I find them? Do I remember the wand formation for Crucio? But he knew none of it mattered. Not really. It couldn’t; knowing those things wouldn’t help him, and it wouldn’t help you. And right now, that was all that mattered, helping you - keeping you safe and away from fuckers like Peter and those Death Eater arseholes. And apparently, he was expected to do that in his awful childhood home.

“Thank you.” He settled for, as his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. “For telling me.”

You stared at him for a long time. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood in a somewhat comfortable silence as Sirius finished his second cigarette and watched the tide come in. His mind drifted to the grey orb in your mind that stored your memories of him in it. Somewhere in there, is the memory of the time Sirius became a bumbling fool after you sang and played a song in the Three Broomsticks for the whole restaurant. Though you blushed furiously the whole time at Sirius’ obvious infatuation, you couldn’t help but smirk at his blustering. Somewhere in there is the memory of the time you came flying (not literally) into the Quidditch field in 5th year and interrupted the Gryffindor practice much to the chagrin of that year’s captain because you had just been notified of your mother’s death and somehow needed Sirius of all people. There was also a memory somewhere in there of what Sirius considered one of the worst days of his life – you and Sirius had been dancing around each other for quite some time by that point; all your friends had bets on how long it would take before you two got together. Sirius knew of your affections toward him, though he never quite understood it. He may have been handsome, witty, charming, but he was just no good. He had gotten into an argument that day with Reg about conforming to the drivel of their parents and it weighed heavily in his mind during the Gryffindor party. This girl had been batting her eyelashes at him all night, and he was feeling sorry for himself – he was such a mess; how could someone as beautiful and thoughtful and smart as you get messed up in the shitstorm that was Sirius Black? It wasn’t fair to you, so, he snuck off to a broom closet with the nameless, eyelash batting Hufflepuff and got off, hoping to alleviate some of the tension of that day. He later found out that not only did he feel gross for fooling around with a girl he never bothered to learn the name of, but you had witnessed them sneak off together. He found you later curled up in Remus’ arms having had cried yourself to sleep. “You’re a right arse, Sirius.” Remus had spat at him, standing up with you in his arms and stalking off to their dorm.

But Sirius wanted you to remember it all. How you flat-out ignored his existence for seven weeks and four days. Sirius waited one-thousand two-hundred and seventy-two hours for you to finally look him in the eye, even though it was only to tell him to go fuck himself. It took another three weeks for you to stop spitting angrily at him and start acting like he was just another one of the guys, which also hurt, but he was just happy to be gifted with the sound of your voice again.

He never took your attention for granted again after that; everyone noticed the change, you most of all. He never broke eye contact with you when you spoke to him. He always took full advantage of your attention any time you were willing to give it to him. He was always the first one to stop talking when you went to speak up, and the first to defend you if someone dared to interrupt. At the time, it made you feel precious, like you were something worthy of worship. Sirius wanted you to remember that, and most importantly, he wanted you to experience it again.

“Well Pads,” a voice interrupted his musings, “excited to bring Y/N home to your darling mother, finally?” James smirked as he rubbed his hands together.

Sirius scoffed, “the only reason I’m even considering the prospect of bringing her to that hellhole is because that old hag is already dead.”

“What, am I not good enough to bring home to mummy-dearest?” You said with a smirk, causing Sirius to bark a laugh.

“Not at all love, in fact, if I had been sure she wouldn’t have Avada’d you on the spot, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t do it earlier; maybe we could have sent her to an even earlier grave.”

The meeting seemed to have ended, as Moody was seen dragging Peter’s stupefied body from the safehouse and apparating away.

“There’s concern of corruption in the Ministry, so he’ll be put in an anti-magic cell in Moody’s basement for the time-being.” Lily explained.

“I always knew Moody was into some kinky shit.” James commented with Harry on his hip.

“It’s not funny, James.” Lily fumed. “I don’t think you realize how close we were to dying.”

“I guess we’re very lucky Y/N had an ally on the other side.” James murmured. Sirius laughed sarcastically.

“Some ally they were.” He spat angrily.

“Sirius, relax,” Lily started, “They kept her alive, protected her memories and gave us the ability to win this war.”

“And let the entire Death Eater army use her as their play toy!” He shouted. “Peter himself fucking violated her!”

“Would you shut the fuck up!?” Lily seethed, looking around to see who all heard.

“No! Everyone should know what a fucking abomination he was! Is! And we called him our friend!”

“BUT IT ISN’T YOUR STORY TO TELL!” she shouted back.

Remus and James looked properly mortified, both at the outburst and on account of the news that their friend not only betrayed them but was capable of such heinous acts.

Sirius felt the blood leave his face as he spun to face you; a curious expression adorned your face. It wasn’t necessarily pain – but certainly frustration, and perhaps some pity.

“You’re so used to being around such moral people Sirius, and that’s good – you should be.” You began calmly. “But I just watched Peter Pettigrew – a member of a racist terrorist organization who is guilty of treason at best and murder at worst, a sexual assailant, a user of unforgiveable curses, and all around bad bloke get carried out of an enemy base completely unharmed to be held in a safe facility until he receives what I assume is going to be a fair trial.”

Sirius held his breath as you paused for what he was sure was dramatic effect.

“Do you know what happens to the most loyal of Death Eaters who dare to sneeze when their Dark Lord is speaking? They’re strangled by Nagini. Maybe they survive, maybe they don’t; that’s neither here nor there. And do you know what happens if a Death Eater even looks like they might hesitate when they’re asked to crucio or avada a muggle? They’re fed to Nagini. And those are the tamer of the possible reprimands.

“So, the fact that any Death Eater managed to find me, heal me, train me and keep me alive for the past nearly five months is nothing short of a miracle, and God only knows what You-Know-Who would do if he found out that they’d managed it. But they could not always save me from the evil that they themselves were also victims of and surrounded by twenty-four-seven, regardless of whether they simply wanted to or not. It didn’t matter if they knew it was wrong or had the moral compass of a saint – we would not have survived, it is that simple.” You paused as you allowed your words to settle inside of Sirius’ mind.

“You all have the privilege of being surrounded by sane, morally sound people. That has given you the ability to see the world in black and white. To survive, some people needed to become certain shades of grey. I’m not saying that it’s right, or fair, or just; it just is.”

Properly chastised for his outburst, Sirius stared at his boots.

“Does it make me one of them to think Peter deserved everything you just said?” James asked quietly.

Remus let out an inelegant snort. “No mate, I think that makes you human.”

“I wasn’t asking you, you goody-two-shoes.” James mockingly argued before turning back to you.

“No, it certainly doesn’t make you one of them. I think Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes here is right.” You replied.

“I’m literally a dark creature, I don’t know who you all are calling a goody-two-shoes.” Remus muttered petulantly.

“Uhm, the goody-two-shoes, obviously.” Lily snorted.

“Hi, kettle?” James spoke an octave higher, pretending to hold a muggle phone to his ear. “This is the cauldron; you’re black!” Lily swatted her husband.

“Perhaps before we kill Nagini or whatever the snakes name is, we could send it down to Moody’s sex dungeon to finish off Peter.” James joked, though no one missed the dark edge that shadowed his voice.

“Charming.” Sirius heard the posh accent of Andromeda from behind Remus. “Well cousin, ready to head back home?”

Sirius moaned dramatically and threw his head back as his party began to head to the apparition point just beyond the wards. He opened his eyes to see you still standing there, your gaze cautiously analyzing him.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m the arse and you ask me if I’m alright?”

“Are you?”

“Are you alright?” he countered.

You continued watching him for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Lily was right, I shouldn’t have run my mouth like that. You trusted me and I let you down. And of course, you were right about the other stuff as well – I have no business pretending to know what it’s been like for you these past few months.”

You nodded gently at him. “Thank you for apologizing, and for listening. I’m alright.”

He offered his arms out to you and you hesitated only briefly before accepting his embrace.

“You were always so much smarter than the rest of us,” he mumbled into your hair. “Lily would have just hexed me if she were you.”

You laughed – a real actual laugh, the first he’s heard from you in months. “Sounds about right.” You admitted, before quickly pulling away from Sirius and staring at him in awe.

“What?!” he asked, slightly paniced from the change in demeanor.

“I remembered. I – I knew, or agreed, that Lily would have been the type to hex you – I knew that!”

Sirius beamed at you before picking you up from your waist and spinning you in a circle. When he put you back down, you were both flushed and out of breath.

“Welcome back, Vix.” He knew you weren’t really back, not yet. But by Godric, it was a start.

Continue to part four here.

#marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

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drghostwrite · 1 month ago

Text

Dancing with Death Herself…

Pairing: Rio Vidal x reader

Summary: Since Agatha wouldn’t kiss her… imagine Rio shows up at readers front door, a long awaited reckoning turns steamy fast. And then some fluff because you know, Rio and the whole tortured past and loving Agatha and the whole thing, but now she has you. This is totally like a hero and villain fall for each other kind of thing.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, this will have some smut, the dangerous kind.

********************************************************

Rio Vidal, death, the green witch, one of the most powerful beings to walk the earth and here you were, at her mercy, dancing between life and death.

The night she found you, you were laying in a clearing the forest around you calling to her. She saw how your body was baldy beaten and bruised, “So you must be death?” You asked with a smirk, the taste of iron flooded your mouth, your vision going spotty as you tried to move.

“Something like that…” she said reaching down to steady you before she took your life, but that’s when she felt it, the power coursing through your veins.

“You’re a witch?” She questioned.

“something like that…” you choked out before your world went dark. She took you in that night, healed you, she saw the power that you held both physically and magically, you were a goddess… literally.

You two crossed paths many times over the years always developing a sort of chemistry and you started to fall for each other, that was until she met Agatha, the only woman crazier than her and she choose to follow the purple witch in her wake of bodies, leaving you in the rubble of a life once lived.

Well until one night……

You were sat in front of your fireplace calmly reading a book before you felt it. The power, her power engulfing your senses, every fiber of your being longed for her and cried for her, it was almost painful.

You sat there feeling it grow stronger until you heard the sound of wood splintering as your front door burst open, “Rio my love it’s been a long time…” you greeted.

“hasn’t it?” She teased.

You stood laying down the book you were reading and coming around the couch, taking in the sight before you of her in her black mercenary outfit, with a wave of your hand the door pieced itself back together.

“to what do I owe the visit?… need more advice on a certain purple witch?” You questioned with a smirk, leaning back against the couch.

She laughed before a smirk pulled at her lips, she lunged for you tackling you over the couch. You used your legs and flipped you both over, sending you through the coffee table that flattened beneath both of you. She sat up straddling your lap, running her middle finger between your breast, the skin exposed the flannel that you wore now partly undone. “Now that’s no way to greet your mistress…” she trailed bending down to lick from your collar bone up to the sweet spot in your neck.

“Nice to see you too.” You said before flipping you both over and getting up off of her, brushing your self off, only to see her smirk before hopping up in front of you. You turned to walk away from her, her eyes studying you closely.

“hmm… what’s to say I don’t need your help.” She teased.

“You’ve never needed my help.” You responded solemnly remembering the time that she left you to hunt down Agatha without you by her side.

“Not true.” She scoffed, “maybe I just needed you…” she whispered.

You turned to meet her eyes, realizing that she was being serious, she actually needed you.

“I thought you didn’t have a heart?” You tested the waters to see if she was being genuine.

“I do it’s just black and apparently it beats for two very powerful people… or at least it did… now though....” she trailed off as she brushed herself off.

“Rio my love…” you stepped in closer, your eyes went from sassy unbelief to deep longing for the woman standing before you. Every neuron in your brain longed for her, every nerve in your body screaming to be hers and to be able to have her as yours, you wanted nothing more than for her to admit that she loved you. That she loved you more than she did Agatha that she would give love another chance.

You had plenty of scars that you’d earned over the years, but Rio?, she had one scar she didn’t need another.

“The last woman I loved, I hurt…” She whispered softly, her teeth peaking through her slightly pursed lips.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t love again…” you pulled your bodies closer, brushing stray hairs out of her face, your faces incredibly close, breath ghosting over your lips as you looked from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. Those dark eyes that held years of pain and torture, the eyes that stared into the depths of your soul. You looked back down to her perfect lips.

“Y/N…” a warning laced her voice.

“I want this…” her eyes looked into yours as she tried to figure out if you were delusional or not. You leaned in closer, her hands gently grasping your wrists as your hands were gently cupping her face.

“I could hurt you…” she faltered right before you kissed her.

“But you won’t…” you said, flicking your eyes up to hers with a small smirk.

The air went silent around you for a moment, your hearts beating rapidly. She leaned forward, and you gently let soft lips meet, she relaxed under your touch as you let your hands slide down her body, one stopping at her neck while the other ghosted her side.

She quickly turned the gentle kiss into something passionate and bruising, her tongue sliding against your bottom lip as you granted her access, your nails dug into her waist as you pulled her closer, bodies flush against each other, one of her hands cheekily came up to grope your breast.

You pulled back with a chuckle, but in Rio fashion she had your bottom lip between her teeth, she nipped lightly but enough to draw some blood, you could taste the iron and knew your lip would most likely be swollen later. She then very gently kissed it before running her tongue over it letting it heal.

“Mmhhnn…” she let out a low chuckle, satisfied with herself.

“show off,” you chuckled, dangerously close to her lips again. She chuckled before pulling you into a ravenous kiss. She slid the dagger out or its sheath and wedged it into the wall next to your head, slicing your ear and drawing some blood. You stared into her eyes unmoving her coffee colored orbs reminding you of the earth.

“Gonna heal that?” You asked seductively running your tongue over your white teeth.

“I’m going to make sure all of you is healed.” She purrs before running her tongue over the shell of your ear, the wound instantly fixing itself

“Bedroom, before we break any more furniture…” you suggested before she grasped your hand pulling you deeper into your home, practically dragging you.

“Something’s never change…” she said pushing the door open and seeing the room accented in dark green, her green, from the satin sheets to the curtains and accent chair. She pulled you through the door only to close it by slamming your body up against it. You let out a groan as your body roughly met your bedroom door, smirking as you watched her eyes hungrily trace your lips.

“No they don’t…” you teased, running a strong hand up her back, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

“If you want control, just take it…” she said pulling away from your lips.

“Is that a challenge?” You asked pushing her back before you stumbled, your arm next to her head as you both fell to the floor on your ornate carpet. She chuckled, tilting her head back, her neck on full display. You saw the glint of crazy and excitement in her eyes as she grinned her pearly whites peaking out in contrast to the dark lipstick she wore.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” she trailed. You reached up wrapping a well manicured hand around her neck and squeezing, earning a gasp of excitement as she watched your eyes darken with lust.

“mmm…” she let out a moan, biting down on her bottom lip, flicking her eyes to watch you as you leaned down to kiss her again this time straddling her lap. You felt her lean forward enough to sit up, one of her hands came up to grope your boob before the other moved to her waistband, grabbing the dagger and with a flick of her wrist, slicing your shirt fully open revealing the dark lace bra you wore underneath.

“Nice try…” you said, with a wave of your hand the knife reappeared on the night stand. She used her legs and flipped you both over so you were on your back, “hmm it’s cute when you tell me no…” she buried her head in the crook of your neck, leaving small bites and kisses.

You chuckled and sat up so she was sitting in your lap and she pushed your flannel off your shoulders. She straddled your lap and her hand slid down the front of you playing with the button on your jeans. You moved so that you could stand up in front of her, she was still on her knees her nails digging into the tight fabric covering your thighs. You reached down and lifted her her chin, gazing into those mischievous coffee brown eyes. You motioned for her to stand so that you could grab the back of her thighs and lift her letting her wrap her legs around your waist.

You turned and carried her towards your bed never breaking the hungry kisses, until you laid her down and watched her scoot back, you crawled up the bed in front of her, watching as her head laid back into the pillows.

“It’s getting a little warm in here…” she said hooking her fingers in the belt loop of your jeans and pulling you between her legs, your hips fitting perfectly with hers.

“I think I can help with that.”

With a wave of your hand she was completely bare in front of you, her eyes trailing the dark lingerie set that you currently wore, her legs spread underneath you as you bent down placing kisses along her neck, biting her sweet spot and leaving a mark that was sure to be seen later. One of her hands guided your hips to grind against her as she pressed her thigh to your wet core, pulling a small moan from you.

You ran your tongue along her collarbone before going to between her breasts, you pulled an erect nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue and watching as her eyes watched amused, as you pulled away a string of saliva stayed attached as you moved to the other side. You felt as her hand tangled in your dark hair, the other traveling down to her dripping pussy to tease herself, you saw her head tilt back with a grin as she started coming closer to her high.

That’s when you caught her off guard grabbing her hand and pulling it away, her eyes looked enticed yet confused as she watched you pull her fingers into your mouth, groaning as you tasted her, prolonging eye contact.

“That’s my job.” You warned leaning down and pinning her hands above her head conjuring black satin fabric to tie her wrists to the headboard. As you seductively leaned up your boobs were on display in front of her face. She leaned up enough that her teeth could grasp your lace bra pulling at the fabric.

A deep throaty chuckle escaped your lips as you slid back down her body, your lace bra roughly brushing against her skin. Pulling over already excited nipples as you moved down further placing a kiss on her rib cage watching her squirm underneath you.

“Your words darling.” you placed open mouth kisses on her stomach, traveling down you bit the skin on her hip then pressed your lips to it, sure to leave a mark.

“I forgot how much you like to tease…” she growled as you pulled the sensitive skin of her inner thigh between your teeth. You looked up through your eyelashes watching her eyes darken as your breath ghosted over her core, using two fingers and dragging them through her folds to collect her slick.

“So wet for me baby…” you teased again pulling your fingers into your mouth, you heard her let out a small chuckle laced with a warning growl.

“The more you tease the worse your punishment will be…” an excited but warning glint in her dark eyes.

“looking forward to it…” you said your tongue dragging over her clit, sucking it into your mouth, watching through hooded eyes as her head fell back for a moment before coming back up to meet your gaze. With a wave of your hand the fabric disappeared and her hands released, one hand tangling in your hair. You used your fingers to pump in and out, pushing against that spongy spot that made her gasp in ecstasy. She reached down grabbing your other hand and interlacing your fingers , you could feel her nails digging into your skin.

you heard as her breathing became excited and shallow the gasps and moans music to your ears as she neared her high, the sting of her nails in your scalp forcing you closer to her dripping core as her other hand pulled against yours.

“Oh… I’ve missed that mouth of yours…” she said biting her bottom lip and letting her head fall back, in between moans. Before long you had her legs tightly wrapped around your head to keep them from shaking, your fingers still moving as you brought her back down from her high. You sat up using the crook of your elbow to wipe your mouth off, sucking the rest of her orgasm off your fingers and slowly popping them out of your mouth.

“You taste amazing darling…” you said moving up to kiss her again. You looked at her only to see her signature devilish grin spreading across her lips.

“Don’t think I forgot about my promise…” she reminded you, guiding you to lay down in front of her as she straddled your lap, at first she teased you with kisses and bites, then scraping her nails against your chest, her slender fingers tickling the valley between your lush breasts. She pulled a nipple into your mouth at first using her tongue and then slowly holding it between her teeth.

then she made her way to your stomach small nips and bites that were sure to be found tomorrow morning. Then she started teasing, running her tongue from your belly all the way up to between your breasts before kissing your soft lips.

“You’re teasing…” you reminded.

“Mm am I?… or am I just exploring your body, it’s been a long time…” a mischievous glint in her eyes as she traveled back down your body forcing your legs open, she eyed you with a smirk before looking down to see how wet you were.

“So wet for your mistress, what a naughty girl…” she trailed as she used her middle finger to drag up through your dripping core, lightly brushing over your clit before she bent down, immediately pulling the sensitive bud into her mouth and swirling her tongue. You were on the fast track to your climax and she knew it, she knew your body too well. She heard your small gasp and how an airy tone would come over your usual rasp, how your hips would buck beneath her and your legs would begin to shake. But just as your were about to reach your high she stopped, pulling away to sit between your legs.

“Rio, what the hell?” You said looking up at her.

“I told you I would punish teasing.” She reminded.

“Baby please…”

“I’m sorry?” She asked, looking for her ‘other’ name.

“Mistress… mistress please…” you begged.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” Her voice dropped into a low growl as she lifted your chin, she was on all fours over top of you, her nails dug into your chin as her lips were a breath apart.

“Ugh, please…” you begged again, trying to get some kind of friction to your core but her sitting in between your thigh was preventing you.

“Hmm…” she hummed making a face, she studied you underneath her, the way your body writhed against her longing to chase that high, the way your lips pursed and your eyes fluttered annoyed at her for not letting you cum.

She studied you carefully as she conjured up her favorite toy, a wicked grin pulling at her lips, as she watched you try and sneak a hand down to pleasure yourself.

She roughly gripped your thighs pushing your legs apart. You looked down to see the fake green dick that she was now sporting, the bumps and ridges, seeing the girth itself made you swallow hard.

“Now be a good girl for mistress…” she said lining the toy up to your pussy and thrusting all the way in giving you no time to adjust, luckily you were so wet it made for an easy start. She pulled a gasp from your lips as she slowly moved her hips to grind into you, the thrusts starting slow and almost agonizing. The sting as you adjusted around her, every bump and ridge pressing deliciously into the soft spot that made you go wild.

You wrapped one leg around her, one hand came to grip her bicep that was next to you, her lips biting the skin between your neck and shoulder.

��You take me so well, sweetheart.” She growled watching the strap thrust in and out, seeing the way you stretched around her and the sounds that your dripping core made as your moans filled the room.

She gave you no time to adjust before she thrust into you again, seeing your face contort in pure pleasure, her other hand came up and gripped the back of your hair, pulling enough so you could feel the sting in your scalp, as she bent down again littering your exposed neck with red and purple bruises. She drug your body through two, then three earth shattering orgasms.

Relentless and giving your body no time to adjust she started again for the fourth. At first pleasure filled your overstimulated body as you begged.

“Mistress… I-I can’t…”

“Don’t lie to me…” she said roughly.

“It-it hurts… I-I’m sensitive…” you said in between shallow breaths.

“Come on, you can give your mistress one more?… can’t you, just one more?” She growled in your ear as your nails dig into her shoulder feeling as she thrust into you harder. At first a feeling of ecstasy clouding your vision but that quickly shifted to some pain.

“Wait… Rio, wait!” You put your hand against her chest warning her to stop. At first she thought you were joking until she saw the tears coming from the corners of your eyes, she quickly stopped and pulled the strap out of you. She saw you fall back against the pillows, looking down she saw blood not a lot but enough she could tell you were bleeding. She looked back up to you and one hand caressed your side as she called your name and watched you prop yourself up on your elbows.

You looked down seeing the red tint of blood, some on your inner thighs, some on her thighs and the strap that she wore.

“I must’ve torn, it’s okay it’s just a small tear, I just…” you started to panic, moving to get off the bed slightly worried it would freak her out. Instead you felt her hand come to rest on your chest pushing you back down into the plush pillows.

“It’s okay, don’t freak out… let me fix it.” She said and you looked slightly perplexed at her concern, normally she wasn’t this caring. You watched as she slipped off the strap and grabbed a wet washcloth from your en suite bathroom, coming back she laid between your legs cleaning you off before bending down.

She slowly pulled her tongue over the tear watching it heal and you felt almost immediate relief, letting your head fall back into the pillows as she slowly used her tongue. She looked up through her eyelashes watching as you softly moaned feeling her work her way back up to your clit, this time very gently bringing you to your high, a soft orgasm coming over your body, legs softly shaking. She pulled away but not before placing a gentle kiss over your clit.

“See all healed.” She said before crawling back up to lay beside you. You turned over and caressed her cheek, pulling her into gentle kisses.

“Thank you.” You whispered between a kiss and you got a soft hum in response.

You woke up the next morning feeling her still pressed into your back her arm wrapped around you hand resting under your breasts fingertips grazing bare skin. You slowly reached a hand up and interlaced your fingers, hearing her soft rasp in your ear.

“Rio?” You softly called, to the woman laying beside you.

“Hm?” She hummed back.

“Please stay…” you spoke out loud, holding your breath as you waited for a response. You hand lightly squeezing her as if you would lose her if you let go.

“You want me to-to stay…?” She asked unsure if this was the morning fog or if you were being serious. You turned in her arms, reaching up to brush soft fingertips over her cheek.

“Please stay.” You said again, this time she sat up plush blankets pooling around her, you thought she was going to run right then and there.

“Y/N it’s dangerous.”

“and maybe that’s a risk I’m willing to take…” you said back.

“the last person I lived with, that I loved was Agatha… and we see how that ended.” She explained solemnly.

“But I’m not her, and I want you to stay…. Please.” You reached out running a soothing hand on her back.

“are you sure?” She turned to face you, a blank, almost longing but slightly pained expression in her eyes.

“Yes but on one condition…” you said seeing her eyes glint with mischief.

“We break more furniture on a weekly basis, and I get to use the knife.” She said leaning back to kiss you.

“no, well maybe… next time you go after Agatha, we do it together.”

“She could kill you.”

“I would like to see her try.” You grinned as she kissed you again, pushing you back to straddle your lap.

“That’s my girl.” She growled possessively.

#x yn #x reader #fluff prompts #sensitive #wlw smut #x reader smut #smut prompts #rio x y/n #rio x reader #rio vidal #agatha all along #agatha coven of chaos

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avoxrising · 1 year ago

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The Feral One • Ch 11

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a hectic day but decided I wanted to stay up late and upload anyways. Prepare yourselves for a plot twist!!!

Content Warnings - Mentions of suicide/torture

How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? None of that mattered to you. You were happy here.

The capital doctors had fixed you. No more meltdowns over people touching you; no more urges to kill. You were finally healed.

You don’t know why they took the route of healing you while they tortured the others, but who were you to complain? They had made you whole again. Maybe they thought that making you realize the stability you had lived without for the past five years would be a form of torture. Maybe they thought it would make you sad. It didn’t. It made you the happiest you had been in a long time.

The only thing that would make you happier would be seeing Finnick. You know he’s not in the capital. Peeta said he saw him on the screen the other day while he was doing an interview, so you know he’s alive. You just hope you’ll be reunited soon.

Hopefully he will come here and they can fix him too. He may not show it, but his games and the years after have left him with a lot of scars. If he comes, you’ll make sure he gets the same treatment you received.

The power here keeps flickering out. Peeta says it’s cause the dam in District 5 was destroyed. Apparently Finnick and Katniss are in District 13 and the capital sent bombs. Peeta warned them and got extra torture because of it.

Johanna is silent outside of her screams. Whatever they’re doing to her sounds horrible. You don’t want to find out.

“Y/N!” Peeta whispers loudly to you. His room is across from yours and you can hear each other under the door.

“What?” you respond.

“I overheard them talking about you,” he states. “The peacekeepers were talking about your treatment.”

“What about it?” you ask.

“I didn’t hear all of it,” he explains, “and it’s hard for me to know what’s real nowadays, but they said something about a timer going off and how they would make you crazy again. We have to get out before they hurt us.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him annoyed. “They won’t hurt me. Snow promised.”

Just as Peeta goes to respond, the lights cut out again and peacekeepers enter the hall. They usually set up extra guards when the power goes out in case anyone tries to escape. Why would you escape? You like it here.

It must be an hour later when panic sets in. You hear a hiss coming from the hall and what sounds like people falling over. You don’t have time to think, however, before your door is opened and a canister of smoke is thrown into your room. Peeta was right. They are going to hurt you.

“Did you always love her?” Katniss asks Finnick as they wait for the rescue team to return. All communication had been cut off but the two were still holding onto hope that they would return safely.

“No,” he chuckles. “I guess she snuck up on me.”

“How?” Katniss asks.

“After her incident in the capital Snow killed her family,” he explains. “I moved in with her because she wasn’t stable enough to live on her own. We were scared she was going to kill herself and selfishly I couldn’t let the one victor I had brought home at that point die.”

Katniss nods her head in understanding and Finnick continues.

“I don’t know if I’d even call us friends when I first lived with her. She wasn’t thrilled I moved in and found me annoying, yet I was the only one she would talk to. She wouldn’t even speak to Mags,” he states. “Before Annie’s games my nightmares got worse. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night completely disoriented. Instead of running or turning violent she would stay. Whenever I woke her up she would come to my room and sit near me till I fell asleep again. Something just clicked at that point and I knew I couldn’t live without her. I still can’t.”

“I never even told her I loved her,” he sadly says to Katniss.

“She knows,” Katniss responds. “And I know she loves you too.”

Taglist:

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #thg series #finnick odair angst #finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fluff #catching fire #mockingjay #the feral one

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coopersmilkshake · 6 months ago

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Million Dollar Man (Ghoul Cooper Howard x wasteland reader)

Part One of Million Dollar Man

Summary: A girl born of the wastelands finds an unlikely partnership in a man who still follows a shadow of himself… And though being in love was in your cards, it wasn’t in his. But you know what they say, you don’t know what you have lost until it’s gone.

You were raised in the wastelands.

Used to the scorching heat of the sun, the lack of water and the bitter chill of the night air, but you weren’t miserable because you had them, your family. Wonderful and chaotic as they were. They were your home and gave you a reason to wake up. They were there until one day… They weren’t. Taken from you by the cruelty of the desert lands, by men who wore metal with a fake code of honor.

And for the first time in your life… You were alone.

You trudged through the sands, dragging your feet, face fallen and life barely clinging to your hollow shell. You felt as lost as the tumbleweeds that rolled from the warm breeze.

You thought you would be on your own forever and then suddenly you weren’t.

You haven’t know him for long, Cooper Howard he called himself. His radiating red skin and puppy eyes that could do some damage if he stared long enough. You didn’t even think he liked your company, as unannounced in his life as you were.

“You… You saved me.” The words came out in a form of confusion and awe. Your shirt was ripped down your shoulder and blood dripped from your nose, “Why?”

“You told him no, that’s word alone is enough sweetheart.” He replied and then he was gone, walking out of town, his spurs clicking with every step.

You followed after him with no thought and only the clinging feeling of hope in someone that wasn’t as cruel as the dessert.

“Why you followin me?” He never looked back, you never even realized he knew you were following him. You thought you were being careful. Apparently not.

“You’re a bounty hunter.” You spoke, not slowing down in your pace.

“Do you have work for me then?” He stopped walking and turned to face you.

Heat rose to your cheeks, “No but—“

He raised his non existent eyebrow, “Look here sweetheart, you look about one short dime away from kickin the bucket.” He stated as a matter of fact, “Why don’t you go die somewhere else.”

“I… I want you to mentor me.” You spoke quickly, “I want to be a bounty hunter like you.”

He laughed at that, a forced and gruff one as he shook his head at the absurd idea, “No.”

“Please—“ You pleaded, “I’m not a child. I can hold my own weight. And I’m good at scavenging for things. I can be useful to you.”

He cut you off with a scoff, “You’d do better as someone’s pretty wife. Now scram.”

“But—” You pulled out your last resort, “I have caps. You can have them all, please.” You held out a hefty bag of caps in his direction, “Please.” Your hope was dwindling but you refused to give up. You needed to learn how to be strong on your own and becoming a bounty hunter will help you do just that.

His defeated sigh gave you the answer that you needed.

And so never did scram, years later you were still clinging to him like a lost puppy. At least that was how he referred to you, a lost kicked puppy. A reckless and softhearted woman he spent most of his nights in bed with for the past three years.

“Your hat… Have you always had it?” You words were as soft as the low crackling of fire against the setting sun. You had stolen the cowboy’s hat hours ago and wore it proudly on your head. It was a feeling that you would take to your grave, but you thought wearing his precious hat meant that you belonged to him just as much as he belonged to you… You hoped at least.

Cooper grunted his answer, a short nod as he stoked the fire. You became a good bounty hunter with time, albeit a little clumsy and short sighted at most, you were a good shot and you watched his back. Something that he hasn’t had in over two hundred years.

You moved to sit in his lap in hopes to get his mind off of whatever he has be thinking about for the past hour, “It looks good on you.” That brought a smirk to his face, something that you inwardly congratulated yourself for, “But you would look good in anything… Or without.” You mumbled softly as you brushed your lips against his.

He pulled you closer by your waist and kissed you like a starving man in the dessert, something that he was very familiar with. As he kissed you, he took his hat back and placed it on his head.

You hummed happily as you pulled back from his intense kiss, “What are you thinking about cowboy?”

“Nothin you need to worry yourself with darlin.” He replied in the seductive drawl of his. It always had your knees shaking when he dropped his voice down a notch.

You hummed decided not to press him about it. He will tell you when he’s ready. Instead, you pressed light kisses all over his face, a perk that you have been able to get away with recently… Another win under your belt.

“Well, I have been doing some thinking recently.” You spoke lightly.

“That ain’t good.” He teased moving his lips to your neck.

“Oh hush.” You smacked his chest lightly causing him to grin.

“I’ve been thinking about your age and I think I figured it out.” You mused wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the back of his collared shirt.

A soft chuckle left his lips as he pulled back and placed his hands on your hips, “Really now? And what did ya figure out darlin?”

“Your mannerisms gave it away over time.” You peered up at him with a smile, “You act tough and violent, but you weren’t raised that way.” You explained with a thoughtful look on your face, “It’s in your eyes really, they become soft when you think no one is watching you…” You held his cheek and gently traced his cheek bone with your thumb, “Your gentle and you still care about things, I would like to hope that would include me because you are all that I care about.” You chuckled as you moved your hands to the top button of his shirt, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before until I met you all those years ago.”

You didn’t notice the way his head tilted down to hide his darkening expression, “But I am pretty confident in my deduction skills that you were here before the bombs. Before this place turned into a wasteland… I bet it was beautiful then with colors and life when there were such things as meadows…” You muttered as you traced your fingers lightly over the exposed skin on his chest. He didn’t speak up, but that was something you were used to. He was always the quiet one while you talked his ear off.

“Why I bet you were a million dollar man.” You joked with a lovesick smile, “But I hope one day that we could find a place like that to settle down.” You rant about the daydreams you’ve been having lately, “Maybe we could find and raise these birds I saw in a book about farms once… I think they were called chickens? I would love to live that life with you because I love you.” You giggled lightly in thought as you waited for him to speak, “But I’m right aren’t I? About your age?” You smiled waiting for him to join in on your little dreams.

You didn’t expect the rough shove that sent you crashing into the ground beside him. Your head had hit against one of the stones on the ground cause you to gasp in pain as you stared up at the stars confused and hurt. Had you gone too far? Did you offend him somehow?

“Coop?” Your head spun as you carefully looked towards him, “I… Didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing?” He asked, his accent twinged with a hint of disgust.

You flinched at his harsh tone. You slowly sat up and rubbed rubbed the back of your head, “What?”

“You really thought it was a good idea to spill all that shit onto me?” He scoffed.

“I don’t understand? It was just a thought… We don’t have to raise chickens…” You spoke timidly wondering if he may have had a farm in his life before…

“It’s not about the damn chickens!” His voice boomed and you sucked in a breathe.

You felt lost, not sure where everything had went wrong. He was fine just a second ago, “Did I… Say something wrong? I know we haven’t verbally said I love you, but we’ve been together for so long, I just couldn’t help but say it because I—”

You yelped as he dragged you to him by the ankle. He was on you in an instant, hovering over you as he wrapped his large hands around your throat and squeezed. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the way he looked at you with such anger. You had seen this look before to others, but never you.

“You don’t love me sweetheart.” He sneered, “And I sure as hell don’t love you.”

Well that hurt… More than you cared to admit to yourself.

“But— I do love you—” You gasped out as you struggled in his grip, “I would do anything for you… and I know you love me too! You wouldn’t fuck me if you didn’t!”

His snarky laugh made your stomach turn with unease and dread, “Honey I’ve fucked a whole lotta women for less.” He tightened his grip around your throat with a sneer, “You don’t know me.”

You clawed at his wrists as he squeezed tighter, restricting you from air, “Loved— Three years— I kno— you.”

His voice grew darker as he spoke, “You really expect me to care for you sweetheart? Settle down with what… You? To live some fucking fairytale farm life with a bunch of chickens?”

“Y-yes?” Tears sprung to your eyes at his hurtful words, “I love you.” You gasped out again trying to convince him of your truth, “Cooper please—” But he wasn’t listening to you.

You felt yourself begin to fade and a red blearing flight began to set off in your brain as you kicked him as hard as you could.

That seemed to work as he fell off of you and you sat up gasping for air as tears streamed down your face. You didn’t get much of a chance to collect yourself before he was lunging at you again with a knife gripped firmly in his hand.

Your eyes widened as you turned and tried to move, struggling to get up. Your hands clawed at the sand to get away from him, but tripping over yourself did nothing to stop the knife tearing into your leg. Your scream echoed into the dessert as you curled up into yourself when you felt him hover over you. You didn’t know what stopped him from tearing into your neck like an unhinged ghoul. Maybe it was your scream, or the tears, or the way you shook in fear. Something made him stop, something that had him hover over you as his hot breath hid your skin. It was a silent pause before he spoke.

“I have spent two hundred years looking for my family…” He admitted to you for the first time, it made your heart stop beating in your chest, “For my wife… And not even you will keep me from that.” He muttered lowly and you could feel your entire world around you fall to pieces with him, “I did want to raise chicken once.”

You hated the way he laughed at the thought, it felt cruel.

“Live my life on a farm with my daughter… With her… Not you.” He pushed himself off of you, his back turned towards the fire.

That broke you.

There was a pause that made you wish he would just end your misery now, kill you so you wouldn’t have to feel this pain any longer. You couldn’t bear the pain he was feeding you, you didn’t want to.

“You’re not her.” He spoke quietly with words that tore into your heart in two, worse than what the knife embedded in your skin had done, “And you never will be.”

You didn’t move as he got up and walked away. Your eyes just squeezed shut to avoid seeing the disgusted look he gave you earlier, a look that you never tho if he you would see on a man who you thought loved you as well... You felt… Empty. As if a part of you was ripped from your body and burned in front of your eyes. Everything you were breathed Cooper Howard and he didn’t even…

It was silent for the next hour except for the dying crackling of the fire and your sniffles as you cried. Blood flowed from your leg leaving you lightheaded with each passing minute and you knew he wouldn’t think to take care of it. Why would he? He was the one stabbed you… You never imagined that he would… Yes he was cruel and down right hideous to others, but never to you… Never like that. The feeling made you want to throw up. Your mama’s words echoed loudly in your ear like a bell. Never trust a shadow of a man.

You sat up slowly, flinching from the pain as you assessed your wound. Cooper was lying across from you, his back turned from you. He wasn’t moving and you were scared to make any more noise in case it would set him off. You took the collar of your shirt and bit down on it as you gripped the handle. You winced, groaning in pain as you swiftly tugged the knife out. It hurt, but not as much as your heart did as you struggled to clean and stitch up your wound on your own.

You had only ever tended to superficial wounds your siblings would get when they were alive, but never on yourself… Cooper always did that for you…

Your hands shook from the shocks of pain rippling through your body, but it was the last stitch that had your eyes rolling back as you hit the ground, darkness consuming your vision as you faded into a state nothing.

You never felt the faint feeling of a hand pressing gently against your leg.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #fallout fanfic #fallout #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard angst #cooper howard x reader angst

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silassinclair · 8 months ago

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Introduction!!

Yandere Ghost x Reader

CW// Suicidal Thoughts, Paranormal Activity, Murder Mention

My other yand OC Maddox was a hit with ya’ll so here’s a short introduction of a new oc!! Hope you like him as much as I do. This is gonna be very boring because it’s an introduction but I’ll make a oneshot right after this one!!

Masterlist!!

“This key unlocks every door in the manor. Except the door to the attic for some reason, but there’s nothing of importance up there. Apparently it’s just some old junk the first owner left.” The agent said with a tight lipped smile. Her matte red lipstick was as bright as a stop sign.

Taking the key from her hand you’re surprised to feel how heavy it is. “Thank you.” You mutter.

“All the legalities are settled so she’s all yours. I recommend blasting that ivy off the side wall of the house though. The roots can mess up the brick.” The agent adds.

“Alright, I appreciate the tip.” You say and shut the door in her face, leaving you alone in your new home.

Maria was a total pain in the ass, like all people who work with selling things. Oh and for the record, you like the ivy that grows on the side of your new home. Makes it look pretty and natural. Anyways, her being gone was like a breath of fresh air. All was good now that you finally had a place to call home.

Your Grandfather died and in the will he left you his summer home in Italy. It was a grand manor that was located on a hilltop surrounded by forrest. It was perfect for your hermit self. Never in your life would you imagine leaving the states to come live in Italy but here you were. After all the manor was handed to you on a silver platter, the offer would be foolish to refuse.

There was nothing for you in the states. Your life was miserable, draining, and filled with nothing but painful repetition. Being worked like a machine and stepped on like a doormat. Having a horrid and overly possessive ex boyfriend who was a serial cheater didn’t help either. You were so close to ending your miserable existence until a woman named Maria gave you a call.

And now you were here, standing in the foyer of your new home. Some work would need to be done. Floors needed polishing, corners dusting, windows wiping. Maybe you should make a checklist?

"This is gonna be a long day.." You think to yourself.

"There she is again. She must be the new owner." I think to myself as I watch the young woman clean the floor.

The past owner, Lorenzo, must have passed away and put the ownership of the manor into this girl's hands. It has been a while since I’ve seen the old man. But did he have to put my home in the hands of some uncultured American? I find this terribly irresponsible of him, I mean look at her!

She's using a bleach based product on the hardwood! Lorenzo was a good owner of the Verona manor. He hired staff to keep it well maintained and he rarely ever visited. But this girl... she's an utter buffoon. Before she can torture the hardwood any longer I swiftly hover behind her and move the bottle a few feet away from her while she isn't looking.

"Huh?" When she reaches for the bottle she finds it has moved away. I snicker at her confused reaction.

"It was just right here..."

She reaches over and grabs it again but before she does I kick it, sending it flying across the foyer and hitting the front door.

“Any minute now she’ll run away screaming, she won’t even look back.” I think to myself with a devious grin.

But when I hover in front of her I only see an annoyed expression on her face.

“Uhm… Did I do something wrong?” She says.

I freeze, is she not afraid? Why was she talking as if she were talking to someone? Can she see me?

“I asked if I did something to upset you.”

And then her eyes move up and look right into mine. For the first time in centuries I feel as if I have ignited, that I am alive and that my heart once again beats like all other human beings.

“You… Can you see me?” I ask hesitantly, afraid that if I may speak too loudly she’ll scamper away like a mouse.

Her soft lips part slightly as she nods.

He told me his name was Dante Verona. He was the original owner of the Verona manor and he comes from an Italian royal family. But he was assassinated centuries ago in this very manor during a masquerade party. So I assume that his spirit is trapped here. He was wearing an intricate black, red, and white Venetian mask that hid his face. He wore matching black and red noble attire and his hair was a curly dark chocolate brown that went down to his neck.

Overall he was a total mystery. His entire existence was perplexing to me. Yes I do believe in the paranormal but never would I think I’d meet a real life ghost.

“I assume your grand father is Lorenzo? Has he passed on?” Dante asks, cutting through the thick silence.

I blink a few times, maybe if I blink hard enough he’ll disappear and that’ll confirm that this was all just my imagination. So I blink, but Dante’s translucent self is still hovering in front of me. The blank expression of his mask makes me slightly uneasy. I couldn’t get a read on the guy at all.

Coughing, I finally answer, “Uhm yeah… He was my grand father. He left me this manor in his will. And he didn’t mention any ghosts or anything like that.” I add.

“Lorenzo couldn’t see me. You’re the first to see me actually.” Dante says. His voice sounded smooth but the mask muffled it slightly. But he also sounded like he was in pain. I wonder how long he’s been here, trapped in this manor.

“So this whole time you were all alone?”

“Yes.” He softly replies. “Just me. Only my spirit is here.”

“That must be hard.” I say, but not in a pitying sounding way. The last thing he wants is pity probably.

Dante hovers away and I follow him into the living room. Looking up I see him hover up to the chandelier. He looks down at me, I can see his dark green irises through the black holes of the mask.

“Every day is hard. God has cursed me, rejected my entry into the heavens.” His voice cracks. "My death occurred in the very room we are in."

I look around the oriental room we are in. It has been modernized over the years, but I can imagine how it looked in his century. The masked party people, music, drinks, lies and deception. All of it in the room we are in but centuries before.

"My killer has not been found but I know they are long dead. Knowing that they burn in hell brings me peace. And I have learned to accept that I am to remain here.”

Then he rambles on about his life story. The tragedies he lived through, the friends he made and lost, wars and battles faced, and lovers went and gone. But I don't mind that this conversation is one sided. He has had no one to talk to for centuries so he deserves a listener.

"I apologize my lady. I have droned on for far too long. It's impolite..." Dante says in a dejected tone. But I reassure him.

"Y-You're okay! I understand. You haven't had someone to talk to in a long time I imagine. Besides, I found your life story very interesting."

Dante hovers down to where I'm sat on the couch. He also sits beside me. Leaning in close he tilts his masked face to the side as he comes closer to mine. I move away slightly; his body emits an eerie chill.

"Tell me about you. What is your name?" He asks, his eyes twinkle with an emotion unknown to me.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I originally lived in the United States, but I moved here as you know." I mutter. I've never been one to talk a lot anyways.

Dante looks me up and down. His fingers reach out causing me to flinch back, but he goes to touch the fabric of my black dress rather than my skin. To my surprise his fingers can touch the fabric, they don’t phase through it.

"Why do you wear black? Are you a widow? Has your husband passed on?" He asks softly.

I feel myself giggle slightly and he looks up at me with probably a confused expression.

"I've never been married silly, I'm only 23 years old.”

Dante’s emerald eyes widen. “23 and unmarried? Has the societal norm changed? Because my sister was married off to her husband when she was 16.”

I cringe physically. “Oooh yeah, lots of things have changed. But also I’m wearing black because it’s just my style. It’s called goth, it’s a music based style. I can tell you about it sometime.”

Dante looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. I can see it in his eyes.

“Ahem- Anyways. Why do you wear that mask?” I ask.

Dante breaks the eye contact and looks down at the side. “It does not come off. No matter how hard I try to remove it, it only stays. I cannot remove the clothing either.”

I nod. “Is it because it was the last thing you wore before you died?”

He nods in return.

“I assume so.”

He moves closer to me ever so slightly. His gloved hands caress my h/c locks of hair and then he brushes his fingers across my cheeks and jawline.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

Dante’s hooded eyes shine with an emotion I cannot read. But I feel like my life from this day forward will never be the same. Can the living and the dead co exist?

Dante Verona. Will we be able to share the same roof?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #obsession #yandere ghost x reader #yandere ghost #dante verona

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 6 months ago

Text

Gin Akutagawa (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Gin Akutagawa x GN! Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Yandere. Mentions of (accidental) stalking.

______

Becoming self-aware

_______

🔪 With self-awareness came sorrow and anger. Gin's life was a lie. Ryunosuke's life was a lie. Their world was a lie. A reflection of reality. A fantasy, that was shared with thousands of other people.

🔪 With self-awareness came new routine.

🔪First, Gin got a diary. And each page contain similar text. One page each day. Same sentences, that she wrote first thing in the morning.

"My name is Gin Akutagawa. I have an older brother, Akutagawa Ryunosuke. I am from Port Mafia. I am Battalion Leader of "Black Lizard". I was Paul Verlaine's student. I am a girl. My brother and I lived on the streets, before joining Port Mafia."

Day after day. Page after page. Same forty-four words on every page.

Gin wished, that there were more. But she can't remember anything else about her.

🔪 Days were spent patrolling. Trying to find answers, hope, a way out and other people. Tachihara was her partner during the search. And Gin could see, that normally cocky Tachihara looked lost and desperate.

🔪And, when during one of the patrols, Gin and Tachihara found out, that some people from the Government and Hunting Dogs were also self-aware, Gin saw relief in Tachihara's gaze.

🔪 Gin could ask Tachihara about his strange reaction. But choose not to. All of them were stressed out. Her brother became more ruthless. All of them worked hard. Despite everything, they can't find a way out.

🔪 And Gin tried to stay collected. Emotions won't solve anything. Dreams won't solve anything. Gin was glad, that she stopped dreaming at night.

🔪 And then, one day, Gin felt an entity's gaze on her.

____________

The first "hours" under entity's gaze felt like torture. She wanted to scream, to run, to get her hands on someone, who were watching them.

Someone, who saw their past, emotions, thoughts.

But then "night" came.

And with night came dreams.

Gin saw a person.

A normal person doing normal things. Gin could see herself doing the same things, when she was off-duty.

She saw Real World. She saw Entity.

Gin... didn't want to call them Entity anymore.

At the "morning", instead of her normal text, Gin wrote about, what she has learned during her dream.

She wanted to see one more similar dream.

Dreams came every night.

Gin learned more about real world. About Internet, news, culture, people.

Most importantly, she learned more about Their Reader. About them being happy, when they saw Gin and others. About them liking Gin and others. Everyone of them.

No hate. No sick entertainment.

Just curiosity and happiness.

Gin couldn't hate Their Reader anymore. It would be wrong.

She tried to carefully reassure others about you. She didn't want them to hurt you.

And then, time resets.

And Gin once again were getting ready to ambush ADA office.

__________

When they start feeling your presence

_________

🔪 Gin could tell, that she wasn't the only one, who had a change of heart. Something in ADA's detectives' eyes showed her, that they also came to like Their Reader.

🔪 Especially after Boss announced, that they will join forces with ADA to get to the Real World. To get to someone.

🔪 Ryunosuke also seems calmer. Gin could see, that, for some reason, he was trying to listen to something Or hear something? Someone?

🔪 Gin quickly learned, what Ryunosuke tried to do. Sometimes, Gin could hear mumbling. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was familiar.

[//////////] familiar happiness

[//////////] familiar cheering

[//////////] familiar sadness

And one day, Gin heard them clear.

In previous timeline, her brother supposed to be kidnapped. He was fine in this timeline.

In previous timeline she was supposed to sneak on Higuchi.

In this timeline she decided not to do it.

But she heard the voice. Apparently, her actions didn't change, what Reader saw.

"Gin, you are a force to be reconned with. You are so cool. Wish I can be like you."

And something soft touched her cheek.

Gin felt warm and secure.

[In reality, you pet manga page with Gin on it]

__________

🔪 After that, Gin finally could see Little Light. Floating blob of light. Your emotions. In Gin's eyes, the most perfect and treasured thing in entire Real World.

🔪 Gin started training even harder. Ryunosuke and Atsushi weren't enough to protect you. She will step up as your protector.

🔪 Time passed, more people joined their union.

But then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

________

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

_______

🔪 Gin didn't wait, before her SSR Cards became available during Limited Scout. She gifted you her cards herself.

"Okay, Gin, let's try to clean all orbs."

"Whoa! We finally finished this floor. All thanks for Gin's attack."

"I wonder if there will be a special image card for you, Gin."

🔪 Gin can't wait to get to the Real World. To know you better, to protect you, to saw everything, Real World can offer.

🔪 And she will never forget her dreams. About real world. About Reader. About their Guiding Light.

___________

You just get your daily rewards, when you got another note. Another Gin SSR card was attached to it.

"[Y/N]. Hope you are doing well. I have been thinking about having a movie night with Ryunosuke. Want to join us? I will choose movie, Ryunosuke will bring snacks. If you want to join, can you, please, bring blankets? We will wait. Gin Akutagawa."

You smiled and opened Character menu, selecting Gin's card. You pet chibi Gin.

"Great idea, Gin. Thank you for the invitation. I would love to join you and Ryunosuke."

You didn't notice, that Gin removed her mask and smiled.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #gin akutagawa #Self-Aware Gin Akutagawa #bsd gin #gin x reader

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

Text

⸻ The Lost Queen - II ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 1,820.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 2

You were afraid.

In fact, you felt mixed emotions. Fear, dread, horror, terror.

You didn't know why the hell you were in an old military camp, let alone why you were facing one of the greatest conquerors in history. Nothing that was happening made sense and your mind tried to look for logical answers, but it was in vain.

Because nothing that was in front of you was logical.

Maybe it was a really bizarre dream, maybe you were high or drunk, but you knew better. It was real and very real.

Nothing made sense and you felt like crying and going to your mother's lap for comfort but you couldn't do that. Not while you were being held by a scarred man and the others were staring at you with curiosity and... disdain? You couldn't tell.

How did you end up there? It was your first question. Your last memory was of you in your room, reading a book about the conqueror and falling asleep. Was that book cursed? No, that was not possible. But it will be? It seemed like the only acceptable option considering the fact that you were over 2,000 years in the past.

Fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying at all costs to avoid the urge to scream and cry. That wouldn't be acceptable to do now, you needed to stay calm and try to find a solution.

''Can you speak greek?'' You blinked in surprise when one of the men addressed you. It was the one who was next to Alexander. You glanced at him lightly, why he looked familiar?

''Hephaestion, I don't think she's fine or that she even understands what we're talking about.'' One of the slightly tall men spoke up. You shifted your gaze to him when you heard him say the name.

Hephaestion.

Oh, oh.

''It doesn't hurt to ask, Ptolemy.'' Another man said. You looked at him and blushed a little. He was handsome, maybe not by 21st century beauty standards, but he was attractive. Blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

And Ptolemy? Like in Ptolemy I Soter of the Ptolemaic Dynasty?

''She could be a spy sent by the persians. I mean, just look at the way she's dressed.'' The man with dark brown hair and green eyes said, looking you up and down with disdain.

You glared at him, daring him to say one more thing about your pajamas. Yes, it wasn't the kind of clothes they wore but it suited you it was comfortable and the print had kittens!

Adorable.

But the man held your gaze and you shuddered slightly as you noted their intensity.

''Look at the way she's dressed, friends. She clearly is a whore.'' One of the men said, looking at your breasts shamelessly.

If you weren't trapped in another man's arms, you would have kicked ass.

''Whore is my hand in your face if you say another word!'' The words came out before you could stop yourself and everyone looked at you in shock and you felt like slapping yourself.

You could have feigned madness, claimed amnesia or that you couldn't speak greek and, you really didn't, but apparently the ''magic'' that brought you to this place decided not to screw you around so much.

''She has spirit!'' The man holding you laughed and you glared at him.

Finally, Alexander decided to say something.

''Bring her to my tent. I want you all there.'' Were his only words and he turned his back on you without another word, with Hephaestion following, but not before giving you one last look.

You gasped as you began to be dragged towards what appeared to be the King's tent. Several people in the camp watched you curiously as you were led away and followed by the other generals.

You were so fucked up and not the way you liked it.

Alexander didn't know what to do with himself at that moment. He didn't understand what was going on and he hated it.

There were so many questions in the King's mind and none of them were answered. But the most puzzling of them was why he felt awkward around you.

Alexander felt an unknown feeling and what it attracted to you. How a stallion was attracted to a mare in heat. Not that he was thinking about sleeping with you, no, it wasn't that but he felt weird.

It was like he already knew you and that bothered him a lot. You had never seen each other, he was sure of that, but then why did he feel that way?

He needed answers and fast. He looked at his best friend who was looking at him with concern.

''Are you alright, Alexander?'' Hephaestion's soft and warm voice rang out and the friend touched his shoulder to try to calm him down.

''I'm fine, just tired.'' He lied quickly and something told him that Hephaestion didn't believe his words.

But there was no time for questions, not when the mystery woman was led into his tent, surrounded by the curious generals. Alexander frowned, but held the pose.

He looked right at her and his mind filled with disturbing thoughts.

She was the strangest woman he had ever met in his life. She was beautiful, albeit in a different way, but what really drew him to her was the fear in her eyes, the kind of genuine dread he had only ever seen in the eyes of his enemies. And the way she was dressed… He had never seen such clothes, even in Persia.

And that attracted him.

Alexander cleared his throat before asking the question that had been on her mind since he met her, ''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?'' The King's voice was serious and authoritative and he could have sworn he saw her shudder.

The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and closed it again, avoiding Alexander's piercing gaze. It made him uncomfortable, but he could not and would not show weakness in front of anyone, let alone in front of his generals and a complete stranger.

He watched her for a few seconds and realized what made her sulk, the fact that she was still being held by Cleitus the Black.

''Let her go.'' It was a simple command but the general obeyed instantly. Alexander smiled a little when he noticed that the woman's posture visibly relaxed when she was released.

''I'll ask you one more time.'' Alexander said and moved a little closer to the woman, ''And I suggest you answer.''

She just stared at him as if she was seeing a god in front of her. Well, maybe he was a god.

''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?''

''I'm (Y/N) and I don't know how I came to be in your camp.'' She finally said it in a low voice but he could hear it loud and clear.

Alexander was stunned. (Y/N)... A name he had never heard in his life and yet it seemed to suit this woman. And when he was finally able to hear her voice again, the King found himself wishing he could hear her speak more often. She was so strange yet so endearing and Alexander found himself wanting to know everything about her and he would.

He was the King, after all, and he always got what he wanted.

"It's an unusual name. What it means?''

She shrugged, ''I don't know. I never tried to find out.''

She was so insolent and disrespectful. Did she not know who she was talking to?

A laugh was heard and Alexander glared at Nearchus, who stopped laughing at the same moment.

''Where are you from?'' Alexander asked, looking at her curiously. He had decided that she wasn't a threat, she seemed too stupid to be a threat anyway.

She thought for a moment and smiled. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him.

''Uh…I come from a very, it's... a distant place.'' She said between pauses.

Alexander scoffed. She was a terrible liar, and he felt like laughing when she looked insulted when he scoffed.

''And where is this place so far away?'' He insisted.

(Y/N) glared at him.

''As far away as you could tell.''

''The name?''

If she looked angry before, she looked furious now.

''You would not understand. It's not your language.''

''Really?'' Alexander thought, ''And how come you speak my language so well?''

She paled, but recovered very quickly.

''I studied.''

Alexander hummed and decided to stop questioning her. For now. She looked tired and scared, from what he could read from her body language and something inside him told him not to disturb her anymore.

''Call the servants. Give her a tent, clothes and food.''

All of her generals looked perplexed, even Hephaestion.

Even the woman, (Y/N), looked confused.

In fact, he didn't even know why he was doing this, but he needed to make sure she was going to be alright.

It was a need that screamed inside him. The need to protect her and he didn't know why.

He needed to find out about her. Who was she, where did she come from, everything.

You were taken to a tent away from the camp and left alone.

You looked around curiously. It was a small tent but it had a small bed, which you recognized as a cot, and some candles. It was just that.

You wondered if you could freak out now, but it wasn't feasible. No, everyone could hear it and it would get you in more trouble than you already were.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You started to feel the tears in your eyes. You wanted to cry and scream and cry some more. But you couldn't. Not when you were in such a vulnerable position and you were scared.

So scared.

You were scared of everything. Fear of being tortured, dying and being abused. You noticed some soldiers looking at you with lust and it scared you so much. What would stop them from making you a booty? A toy?

Nothing.

And it was so desperate.

You sat down on the small cot and finally allowed yourself to cry, the hot tears running down your face, as you sobbed and contained your screams of frustration.

You didn't even notice the servant entering your tent and placing a plate of food beside you or the clothes that were brought for you. You didn't notice because you were so desperate and you were sinking in your fear and despair.

You needed to go. You needed to go back to the 21st century.

And you had no idea how to do it.

And just that thought made you cry even harder.

— lady l: I was going to post it tomorrow but I got some time and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so finally chapter 2 is here. I hope you enjoyed it, what did you think of Y/n's first interaction with Alexander and some generals? Feel free to give me your opinion. I love you all and until the next chapter!! ❤️

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #long fic #the lost queen

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misc-obeyme · 11 months ago

Note

If you're doing requests, can I get Solomon headcanons, theme "sightseeing in Devildom/Human World", genre is fluff or author's choice if easier.

Hello there, my friend!

Ahhh yes this is definitely fluff. And honestly I think that's the best genre for this prompt! Because imagine what a silly guy Solomon would be, taking you all over the place just to see you smile.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Solomon sightseeing in the Devildom/human world

Warnings: none

When you tell Solomon that you want to do some sightseeing, you quickly find out that there are a lot of places an immortal sorcerer can take you. Across worlds, he knows all the best places to see and things to do. If you need him to tell you where he's taking you, he will. But left to his own devices, he'll keep every destination a secret. He loves to see the look of surprise on your face when he teleports you somewhere new.

In the human world, he takes you to famous places. He insists on selfies at the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall of China. But he also takes you to quiet, out of the way places. He shows you a field where he found a rare flower needed for magical potions. He brings you to the hill with a view of what was once his hometown. Solomon shares these pieces of his long life with you, from a time before he knew who you were.

Solomon takes you to some of his favorite restaurants in the human world, too. You're blown away by the delicious food. You're also unsurprised when one spot kicks you both out the minute the chef catches sight of Solomon. Apparently, he once tried to show them how they could improve one of their dishes and ended up making the oven explode. You let out a long suffering sigh while Solomon just takes your hand and runs, laughing the whole time.

He shows you places in the bright sunlight, but he also takes you to locations better experienced at night. Have you ever seen the aurora, MC? He knows the perfect arctic spot to huddle together and watch the bright colors on display in the sky. You may be freezing, but he keeps you warm with his own body and a little bit of magic. He can't resist adding a little magical flare of his own to the aurora's display.

Although he's spent a lot of his life in the human world, Solomon has spent considerable time in the Devildom as well. He will tell you stories about his journey through the rings of the Underworld, though he will insist that you needn't walk through them yourself. He can teleport you to any place of interest. He's more likely to take you to hidden marketplaces and tiny magic shops. You find a plethora of cursed objects and spell books. You try to talk him out of buying you an item that makes your eyes sparkle when you look at it, but it's useless. Nothing you could say will dissuade him.

Solomon shows you places in the Devildom that you never knew existed, but he also takes you to places you may have heard about already. He sneaks you into the Demon Lord's Castle in an attempt to get past Barbatos long enough to show you the rumored torture dungeon. Once again you find yourself laughing as Solomon is promptly kicked out. You're pretty sure Barbatos pretended not to notice you for a short time because you got farther in that you expected.

Although he is no fan of the ocean, Solomon also takes you to a hidden beach within the Devildom. The water is black beneath the moon and starlight. Solomon holds your hand, keeping you close as you stand upon the shore, his eyes out far across the sea. And then, slowly, small lights appear. They begin to pop up more rapidly until the edge of the water is full of bright blue and purple lights. They glimmer gently as they ripple along the waves. Solomon tells you about a Devildom sea creature that only shows up at certain times. You're so entranced, you're barely listening. But Solomon turns you to look at him in the soft light. The way it plays in his silver hair makes your breath catch.

Solomon will take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word and he'll make it happen, whether in the Devildom or the human world. He loves to see you full of awe and wonder, the way you look at him with delight brightening your features. As long as he can stay beside you, Solomon will go wherever you might lead him.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omnb #omswd #obey me solomon #om solomon #solomon obey me #obey me solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon obey me x reader #obey me x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon headcanons #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

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they-call-me-emmy · 1 year ago

Text

The Past is The Past

Part One above :D

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

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara was faced with her 3 ghostface, and this time got so seriously injured she was in a coma. When she wakes up, she has no memory of the past 3 years...including you, her girlfriend.

Notes: Imagine this as our gals scream 7...since Jenna apparently quit and left me fucking DYING

Warnings: Uh, injury, violence, blood, our boy ghostyface with knives. Coma and memory loss if thats even a warning. Swearing. Uhm. Shitty 7th grade writing.

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

Tara looked at Sam with wide eyes.

"What do you mean you invited her for dinner?!"

Y/N was not currently the most...comfortable person for Tara to be around. Due to the memory loss, Tara had no idea who she even was, and Y/N was very awkward around Tara, to say the least.

"I can see you two are uncomfortable around each other, and I want you guys to be as close as you were before!" Sam explained. She was clearly desperate to have this happen, and she wasn't gonna let it go.

"I have no memory of the girl! I don't even remember her last name!"

"Y/L/N. That's not important. What's important is getting your memories back or restarting your life. So, if your memory's with Y/N don't come back, you guys have to be at least friendly."

"Why the hell are you so desperate for this!?"

"She was good for you, Tara...she still is. You need someone like her in your life. She helped you through everything." Sam said, eyebrows furrowing as though she was holding back from giving too much information.

"I don't need anyone. And what do you mean 'Everything'" Tara said, seeing the small opening where she could ask about her past without it being weird.

"Doesn't...that isn't something you need to know right now. You should be focused on the good part that you forgot...not the bad." Sam told her, her cheeks tinged red with anxiety.

"Life isn't all good, Sam. I need to know the rest of the stuff. If you truly wanted me to remember, you'd tell me everything. Anything. Please. I feel like everyone pity's me! 'Oh look, it's Tara, the girl who doesn't know anything!' and it sucks! It fucking sucks, Sam! You don't understand what it feels like the be with your friends of 10 years and not understand what the fuck they're talking about! It's like listening to people speaking in another language, having to translate everything for you! It's torture! And no one will tell what happened! There's this 'Big, Dangerous Thing' everyone keeps talking about, but won't tell me what the fuck it is!" Tara explained, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears, her heart pounding. "Everyone looks at my like I'm 3, like they have to watch what the say around me so they don't press the wrong button and spring some unknown knowledge on me. Tell me, Sam. Please."

"Tara...I know. I really do. And you're right, I can't imagine what it would be like to forget years of your life. But I hear you, it's terrible that you feel that way, but Tara, it's so much easier, so much better to just have you not know...it's not going to make you feel better, it'll just make everything worse. I wish I could forget it sometimes too. And I'll tell you when the time is right."

"Does it have something to do with my injuries? My scars?" Tara asked, holding up her hand to show Sam the scar.

"Tara, I said we aren't talking about that right now."

"So it does?"

"Tara. Get ready for dinner. Y/N is coming at six."

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

Still good?

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader

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imnotasuperhero · 1 year ago

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Shelter my soul with your love.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Summary: The absence of the love of your life had you holding onto her sweater for dear life. And as the weeks passed by and her scent started to fade away, you started to feel the dread of losing her at the time that same sweater became your life support.

A/N: DAY 20 OF PROMPTOBER IT'S HERE! This is a continuation of Couldn't stop this if we wanted to, like I promised. Could've posted this on Saturday, but an impromptu chapter of Sweet Blessing took my inspiration away. Lol. Hope you enjoy this thing and your tears are plenty.

As your fingers played with the hem of the cozy sweater, you couldn't hold back your mind from going to the past, where better times we lived. A time when you were allowed to see her, where you could hold her and tell her all the things you felt inside.

A better time when you felt complete because you had her.

Now, all you had was this sweater that held the last remains of her. All you had now were the memories and the tears that you were left with.

Nowadays, you were just a shell of what you used to be, and the only comfort you could feel was when holding onto every single trace Wanda has left behind for you to remember her.

Funny how life can take things from you out of the blue. No matter how happy they make you or how invested you are, apparently, when a door closes, it can be right in your nose.

Looking through the floor-to-ceiling window, you made yourself smaller on the couch, allowing Wanda’s almost-faded scent that impregnated the fluffy sweater you religiously wore to engulf you, taking your soul to a sunny day in the park with your beloved’s company.

If only you could revive those impromptu dates.

Your apartment had been abandoned long ago, having settled camp at the massive compound in hopes of easing your pain. But even though most days you made it through the day in a relatively acceptable mood, some days were like a plumb blanket had been placed over you, making it impossible for you to get out of bed, turning the way to your job into utter torture.

Brushing away the never-ending tears, you decided to have some mercy on your rumbling stomach and quickly fixed yourself a simple sandwich since it was a Friday. The week had been full of work, leaving you drained physically and mentally.

“Miss Stark, your vitals are getting agitated. May I check them quickly?” The AI broke the silence, making you work on your breathing.

The lump in your throat had messed with the small bite you just swallowed, making it hard to pass the food.

“‘S okay,” you answered as you chugged a glass of water, fist gripping tightly at the corners of the sink.

You hated eating when you’ve been crying, and you should’ve known better.

The tears falling down your eyes for another different reason than before had you working on your breathing, matching every exhalation with a failed attempt to swallow the bolus trapped in your throat.

Once you finally achieved your task, you filled the glass with water, almost throwing the discarded sandwich on the fridge, before you made your way to Wanda’s bed. The need to just sleep your life away was stronger than any TV show or movie on your current list.

You didn’t like this new empty person you had become. But the sorrow and longing and… torture you experienced had you with nothing but just the needed strength to breathe. So working on your inner growth and that bullshit was not possible at this time. And frankly, you weren’t desperate to get any better, for her absence had ripped your will of living away.

If only you had a grave to cry her on.

Wanda’s ghost following you everywhere was the only thing that had you moving. But as time passed and her body wasn’t around, her smell kept fading away, making it harder and harder to breathe. It was as if your own life had started to leave your body painfully slowly.

So in an attempt to keep her looming presence, you didn’t take off her sweater. Instead, you just laid down on her pillow before covering yourself tightly with the covers, breathing in as much of her aroma to keep you warm as you silently prayed for this agony to end. Once and for all.

“Detka,” her voice, as clear as day, sent shivers down your spine.

“Wands? Wands, where are you?” You cried, the sorrow engulfing you like a cocoon. “Please, I need you.”

Standing there in the middle of nowhere, with the big tall trees surrounding you, the anxiety started to eat you from the inside out.

“Detka,” Wanda’s voice called again and you couldn’t help the choking, feeling your knees collide against the dirty grass at the confusion.

Her voice was way too clear for it to be a result of your imagination.

“Detka,” you felt her hand cup your left cheek and you couldn’t help breaking down completely at the way-too-real feeling. “Baby, I’m here.”

“Wanda,” you cried louder, leaning your head on her hand, “I can’t see you. Please, take me with you,” you begged as your hand placed over your left cheek, choking on the brutal sob that escaped you when you didn’t find her hand there. “I don’t wanna live without you,” you begged, feeling your insides tear apart at the phantom of her.

“Y/N, I am here, my love.” despite the security in her voice, the fact that her touch was only vivid in your imagination had your lungs fighting for a single bit of oxygen.

“Wanda, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna be without you anymore,” your labored breaths sent a painful throb to your head.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” You felt Wanda’s lips against your lips for a few seconds too long before she connected your foreheads.

Jolting awake, your eyes blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the dim lights, making sense of the body against you.

“Detka,”

Looking up, a heart-wrenching cry ricocheted through the room as you launched yourself into those pair of arms you’ve dreamed of for the last 2 months.

Feeling her warmth engulf you, Wanda kissed the top of your head. “I am here, my love.” She only tightened her grip around you, providing you the comfort and the time to calm yourself as she cooed against your hair, rocking you both. “I am here,”

Once your breath returned to normal, you broke the hug to look at her face, choking on a new wave of tears as you cupped her cheeks, looking into those forest green eyes you had missed oh, so much.

“You’re alive,” you cried.

“I am alive, Y/N,” she smiled tearfully, allowing your eyes to scan her face.

Choking on a sob, you launched at her once again, placing your weight on hers as you peppered her face with sloppy kisses as if trying to show her the unconditional love you held for her.

Pausing for a moment, your eyes locked with hers and you felt your heart squeeze in pain at seeing the tears running down her face.

But instead of speaking the words on the tip of your tongue, you joined your lips together, pouring in the kiss every single ounce of devotion you held for her, sighing deeply as your lips danced to a well-known melody at the time your soul eased the suffering away.

“I don’t wanna live without you,” you spoke against her lips, nuzzling your nose against hers.

“I’ll never leave you again,” Wanda’s voice was so intimate you felt a chill run down your spine.

“I love you,” you vowed, sighing in the kiss Wanda just started.

“I love you too, Detka,” the brunette kissed your nose before carefully pushing away. But before you could protest, your eyes scrutinized her movements as she started to undress until she was only in her underwear to do the same with you after, crawling under the covers as she opened her arms in a silent invitation.

Smiling, you cuddled against her front, basking in her half-naked body against yours.

As her scent filled your nostrils, you thanked the fluffy sweater discarded on the floor for keeping you company all this time, making a mental note to have Wanda wear it every day for when she had to go away in her missions. And for your dad to design a device to give you constant information on her vitals.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Wanda spoke against your head.

“I’m not sorry,” you placed a tender kiss on her chest, right where the origami raven was resting, before you looked up, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m in love with you,” she smiled before she kissed you, squishing your body once in the hug before her hand started to run up and down your spine in lazy caresses. “I’ll always be with you, like I know you’ll always be with me. Whereve I go.”

“Marry me,” you pouted, fighting the smile at Wanda’s soft giggles.

“Make it right.” She clicked her tongue.

“Game on, Witchy,” you pecked her lips before you cuddled impossibly closer against her soft skin.

Giving up to the mental exhaustion you’ve been under, you allowed Wanda’s presence to lull you to sleep, knowing she was alive, by your side.

The strong, calm thudding of her heart provided you the comfort you needed, like a silky veil against your scarred soul.

With the last ounce of consciousness you had, you thanked whoever was out there for returning her to you, making a silent promise never to lose faith again.

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx (if you wanna be tagged in my fics, let me know)

#wanda maximoff x reader #promptober #day 20 #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x Y/N #wanda x Y/N #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #vee writes

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sstormyskyess · 1 year ago

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omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth.

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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