#what are you supposed to do when people come calling telling you its monstrous you can compete in whatever division! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

705 notes · View notes

aggravatetheaxe · 3 years ago

Note

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.

#imagines #walter sullivan #walter sullivan x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #erik the phantom #phantom x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher community

399 notes · View notes

f-theworld · 2 years ago

Text

When Jon comes to the mansion the next day.

Hasnt slept for not even 4 hours in the last few days, and is living with a worrying amount of caffeine and energy drinks Tim: *Blearily opens eyes* (Thinks:Bruce adopted ANOTHER one? Lets see black hair ✅ blue eyes ✅ Trauma -lets put a maybe on that) Who are you?You a new kid?

Extremely concerned Jon because HIS HEART IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BEAT THAT FAST and smiles hesitantly : umm Im Jon, New? What do you mean?

Tim currently drinking a monstrous concoction that can probably kill five times over and revive the dead and still be look like he is about to fall over: *narrows eyes-but really it looks like he is falling asleep*(Why does that name sound familiar- oh the call from yesterday-what did he say agai-)

Even more worried cause Tim looks as if hes literally a zombie Jon: Im Damians best friend. Are you okay, you dont look so good?

Looking as serious as he can while cradling his lifeline, the nector of the gods, his ambrosia, in one hand, looking like an absolute mess, and grabs the shoulder of Jon-Tim: Did Damian threaten you to pretend to be his friend? Hire you? Pay you? Blackmail you? Cause you can tell me?

When they find out about Jon:

Dick: Proud that his Lil’D finally listened to his advice. 🥹🤩

Steph, Jason and a few others: laughs and thinks its a prank or a joke. Then are worried that damian threatened someone to go along. Etc

Bruce and alfred the people who introduced them

Idk just add your own reactions to it im too tired bro

Tim is so savage I love him lol

10K notes · View notes

writteninkat · 4 years ago

Text

Greed | Ushijima x reader

summary: "I didn't like how my teammates watched you a while ago." He admits, his hands clenching on the counter.

"I don't think they understand how you're mine and only mine." He whispers against the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling shivers down your spine.

f!reader

word count: 3.5k

warning: 18+, name calling if u squint (???)

a/n: this is a reminder that you are amazing, you are loved and you matter. | masterlist for 100 followers event

The boy's volleyball team never paid any attention to the girls as they were always busy with their own training and the two teams played and trained in their own separate indoor volleyball courts. But today is a little different. The floor of your team's court needs changing so the girls and boys have to train under the same roof for a week, and it'll be the first time seeing each other play.

Toshi knew you play volleyball, he knows you were the ace, as a matter of fact, his whole team knows as well. But they didn't know you were this good.

You throw the ball up high in the air, jumping as high as you can and throwing your hand forward, slamming it at the ball. The impact of your hand at the ball always felt so good, the heat and sting of it always gave you some kind of adrenaline and you loved the feeling.

The ball is hit so hard your teammates at the other side of the net barely had any time to react before it hit the wooden floors, giving your side a point.

You smile widely, catching the ball the coach throws at you for a second chance at serving. "Y/n calm the fuck down!" Your teammate yells, "We're not playing for real right now have some mercy!"

"If you can't receive my serves, how are you going to receive the serves from other school who'll surely be better than me?" You yell back, doing another jump float, your form tricking the other team as if you're doing another hard serve, causing them to step away from the net. Your palm then simply pushes on the ball, resulting it to barely go over the net. The players at the other side dives in to try and save the ball, but it hits the ground a second before they do.

The whistle is blown and your side of the court wins. "Y/n! You're a menace to society!" Your teammate jokingly yells, fake-crying on the floor making you giggle. You walk over to your duffel bag on the bleachers and take out your towel, oblivious to the many pairs of eyes on you.

Your short shorts always rode up your thighs and sometimes even ass whenever you played, so you hated wearing the uniform but your long shorts were jn the washer right now, you didn't really have much of a choice. Your uniform hugged your body perfectly, every curve and every hill accentuated by the two pieces of cloth around you.

Your boyfriend's team are bewildered by your skills. They never expected you, so sweet, so gentle and so kind towards them being able to produce such monstrous serves and spikes.

"Y/n!" You hear Tendou call, creating an immediate smile across your face. You loved Tendou, after dating his best friend, the two of you became so close and it's as if you two are best friends too. You watch him run towards you, volleyball in hand. "I never knew you played so good."

"You guys are too busy to watch me play. Why? Wanna join me sometime?" Tendou smiles at your offer, immediately nodding his head. "Yes! Please! Let's olay at my hou-"

"There's no way Y/n's playing with you." Wakatoshi says involuntarily, his eyes widening at his words as his teammates give him questioning stares. He never raised his voice before, nor has he spoken without being spoken to. "Unless! Unless I play with her first." He covers it up, looking away with the faintest blush across his face.

You tilt your head to the side, putting two on two together before smirking. Ah, my adorable, jealous boyfriend. Whatever am I supposed to do with you?

When practice finishes, you go your separate ways from the team. Unlike them who had homes to return to, your home is three hours away from the school and no way in hell were you traveling a total of six hours a day just to get feom and to your house. Getting a dorm in the campus seemed a much better idea, plus, it helped you spend more time with your boyfriend.

A hand snakes its way around your waist and despite sweating for three hours tonight, you can still smell a combination of the scent of your boyfriend's perfume and his shampoo. He smells minty and fresh from his shampoo and at the same time he also smells of lavender and sandalwood.

He continues to wrap both his arms around you as he stands from behind you, his forehead on your shoulder. "Want me to give you a massage once we get back?" You ask, placing a hand on his forearm.

Wakatoshi doesn't speak for a moment and you were beginning to think he fell asleep, but moments later he lifts his head up and takes another step forward, your eyes widening as you feel him poke at your ass.

"I just realised I've never seen you in your uniform before," He breathes out, "You look so sexy baby."

Heat rises up your face, your boyfriend's never said anything like that before. Sure, he once complimented how good yer legs look in shorts or how he likes seeing you so 'comfortable' without a bra on, butbhe's never been straightforward like this.

You can feel yourself creating a pool of slick in your underwear. God, this can not be fucking happening...

"Let's go to my dorm." His voice is an octave lower and he sounds out of breath. "Girls aren't allowed in your dorm building."

"I know most of the people in that building and they know me, they won't tell. So come on," he pulls at you, leading you to his building. He looks back at you, neediness and lust filling his eyes. "I need you right now."

Toshi didn't need to sound like he was begging, you were still going to follow him, but now that he sounds like he wants you so bad he can't control himself anymore, it's making you wanna run to his dorm and rip his clothes off.

You bite on your lower lip, letting him lead you to where his room is.

As you pass through a hall, you smile and wave shyly at some of the familiar faces you see, they look as if they've just seen a ghost. But can you blame them? Ushijima Wakatoshi is currently leading a girl to his room. This is the first time, it should be recorded in the hall of fame or something.

Once the both of you reach his door, which is at the bery end of the hall, Toshi takes his ID card, about to swipe it to unlock the door until he stops midway. He turns around and looks at you straight in the eye, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I don't want to be force you."

You blink at him once, twice, thrice- you take the card from his fingers, quickly swiping it on the lock. You push your boyfriend inside the dorm before looking to your right where the boys in the hall still have their undivided attention at you. "It'll probably get loud, you guys play some music or something." You yell before entering the room and slamming the door behind you.

Immediately, you push your boyfriend onto the wall, leaning in to press your lips on his. Finally, being able to touch your boyfriend after a long day of tiring practice feels to freeing and good. A shiver runs up your spine when he licks your bottom lip, asking for entrance. When you grant it to him, he pushes his tongue inside your wet cavern, immediately exploring it like he's a curious speleologist.

His one hand grabs your waist, immediately being able to grab almost half of it given your size differences and his other hand cups your jaw, tilting your head to the side to gain better access.

Your hand travels down to the waistline of his sweatpants, pushing your hand inside, feeling strained cock from inside his underwear as your fingers skillfully stroke it.

"Mmmm-" You hum, pushing Toshi off lightly. "We need to take a shower first, we've been sweaty for hours." You tell him, your hand still going up and down his shaft.

He sighs, pulling your hand out of his pants before pulling you inside his bathroom. Inside, he pins you against the wall, his lips on yours as he begins to lift your shirt, only breaking the kiss when a piece of clothing has to come off from around your heads. He pushes your shorts down along with your underwear, letting them pool around your ankles. He pulls your body closer to him, the tip of his clothed cock pressing against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

With one hand, he clasps the lock of your bra behind you, letting it fall on the floor along with your other clothes as his other hand begins toying with your pussy.

"You feel so wet down there. Was it when my teammates were staring at you?" He growls, making you lift a questioning brow. "What... What are you talking about?" You breathe out, sucking in your bottom lip in between your teeth as you grind your hips against his hand, greedy for more friction.

"You like it when my teammates are watching you? Watching as those small fuckin shorts get caught in between your ass? Hmm?" Toshi pushes a fingers inside making you mewl, your walls clenching around it, wanting more. "You like it when people watch you?"

You shake your head, moaning out profanities as you dig your nails on the skin of his shoulders, still rolling your hips and still wanting more of him.

"N-no, no! I only want you to watch me, Toshi!" You whine, moaning loudly once again when he pushes yet again another finger. He scissors his fingers inside you as your walls clench around them hungrily, greedy for more. "You're fucking mine, you got that?" He grits, thrusting his fingers inside you, hitting the particular bundle of nerves again and again leaving you screaming in pleasure with just two of his fingers.

"Yes! Yes, oh yes! I'm yours, Toshi! Fuck!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling yourself shake as you cum around his fingers, your cunt squelching around them. You breathe heavily, rolling your hips as you ride out your orgasm.

Toshi takes his fingers out, causing you to whine unconsciously when your hole begins tightening around nothing. He places his hands on either of your lower thighs, pulling you up and hugging your legs around his waist as he leads you to his shower.

He puts you down, making sure you can stand by yourself before hooking his thumbs on either side of his sweats, pulling them down, letting them pool around his ankles. Your gaze is immediately on his member, it's looks so hard and red, the size much bigger than usual and precum is currently seeping out of it.

"Like what you see?" Toshi smirks, this whole side of him completely taking you off guard. You love it. You twist the shower knob on before getting on your knees before him. He steps forward towards you, watching you as you take his dick into your small hands.

You look up at him from below, opening your mouth as widely as you can, rolling your tongue out. You begin by giving his precum-covered head some kitten licks, cleaning it up beforetaking half of his length in your mouth. You hollow your mouth, pushing your head lower as you feel his tip already hit the back of your throat.

"Yeah, take that dick like you want it for dinner. My cockslut..." He hisses, taking you by the hair. He tugs on a fistful of your hair, causing you to roll your eyes back in pleasure and moan loudly, the vibration stirring your boyfriend up even more. He begins thrusting his hips slowly, throwing his head back as you play with his balls and the rest of him that you couldn't take in your mouth.

"That's right, lap up my cock so fucking good, angel. That's right- ah! oh god..." His breathing becomes irregular and his thrusts slowly become more frantic. The tip of his dick continues abusing the back of your throat and tears begin to pool on the corners of your eyes, your cunt dripping wet at the thought of your boyfriend face fucking you at this moment.

Your hand plays with your pussy, drawing circles around and on the clit, chasing after Toshi so the two of you can cum together. "That's right, you're mine. This mouth is mine, and I'm not fucking sharing you with anyone." He seethes, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier by the second until he thrusts particularly deep inside your mouth, the tip of his dick going down your throat as he cums inside you, hot liquid going down your throat has your pussy clenching around your own fingers.

He pulls out, watching as you swallow his load until your mouth is empty of his white seed. The corner of Toshi's hand twitches into a smirk as he wipes a thumb over your bottom lip, immediately you suck on it as you look up at him teasingly.

"Let's wash up, darling." He pulls you up, taking his shampoo bottle and squirting a small amount on his palm, wiping it on your hair continuously until it begins to bubble up. He then proceeds to pour his body wash all over your body, hands roaming around you.

He presses kisses on the shell of your ear as he massages and squeezes your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples before going down and washing your slippiery folds. He copies what he did to your breast down to your ass, kneading them like fine bread before guiding you when the water is hitting. As you wash off the soap suds, he pours the same kind of shampoo on his head, combing his fingers through his soap-sud covered hair before following it by lathering his soap all over his body. His hands go up and down his well defined abs and pecks, teasing you as he slowly trails it down to his shaft.

He watches you watch him clean himself, letting you pull him closer to you, letting himself be hit by the running water. Once all the soap is rinsed off, you step away from him and take a towel, drying off your hair infront of the mirror.

You watch in the reflection as Toshi walks out of the shower and towards you, his usual indifferent expression across his face. He runs his haze down your figure before pulling on your towel, setting it down on the counter.

He leans forward, trapping you between him and the counter as he places both of his hands on either sides of your body. "I didn't like how my teammates watched you a while ago." He admits, his hands clenching on the counter. "I don't think they understand how you're mine and only mine." He whispers against the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling shivers down your spine.

"Why won't you make me yours?" You challenge him, looking at him dead in the eye. He looks at you for a second, two seconds, three- he spins you around, pressing his lips against yours.

"You're playing a really dangerous game, darling, and I'm not in the best mood tonight." He growls through the kiss, his tongue more aggressive and lips harsher than usual. "Show me how to play it, maybe I'll get to know the rules and it won't be as dangerous as you say it is." You shoot back, running your hands all over his naked torso, feeling ever elevation and dip of his sculpted chest and abs underneath the pads of your fingertips.

Toshi growls into the kiss, turning you around once again and pushing you down on the counter. He presses his tip against your dripping folds, slowly entering you as to not hurt you in any way. He lets you adjust to his size for a few moments and the moment you begin rolling your hips, he combs his fingers through your damp hair, pulling on it and forcing you to see yourself being fucked in front of the mirror.

He thrusts relentlessly into you, the tip of his cock hitting places your fingers never hit before. Your jaw hangs open as you moan loudly, taken in a trance at the feeling of your boyfriend abusing the certain bundle of nerves inside you.

Toshi lifts a leg up on your side, the feeling becoming more and more overwhelming as his thrusts become deeper, much faster and harder. Your walls clamp around him tightly, making him click his tongue. "Yeah that's it, this pussy is all fucking mine, isn't it."

He pulls at your hair, letting go of it before cupping your face, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at you. Look at how lewd you are right now. You feeling good clamping down on my cock like that?" He asks, his thrusts never once slowing down. The feeling becomes overwhelming to the point where you couldn't form words, and instead you nod your head as to not make a fool out of yourself.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel the knot tighten in your belly, your jaw hangs open as drool begins to drip out the corner of your mouth. Your boyfriend breathes heavily into your ear, "Wanna cum? You wanna cum right now?"

"Ye-yeah... yeah fuck...wanna...wanna cum... let... let me...cum...." You lose your capability to form coherent sentences and capability to talk. "I'm fucking you so dumb right now, aren't I?" Toshi smirks, shoving two of his fingers inside your mouth, pressing them on your tongue as he watches you make a mess out of yourself.

Your moans fill the bathroom completely and you feel yourself hanging by a thread, simoly waiting for a word, that one ward that'll have you releasing so hard your legs are for sure going to give out. Just one word-

"Alright my darling, you deserve this." Toshi growls into your ear, letting go of your face in the process. "Cum."

You cum all over his cock, your clenching walls trying to milk him of his own release. Your back arches and toes curl as your boyfriend continues thrusting inside you, thrusts becoming sloppy and uneven as well as his breath.

Once you finish, he pulls out, cumming all over your ass, hot white ropes of his release reaching all over your ass, back and some even on your hair. He moans loudly, throwing his head back as he presses his length on your ass. The two of you stay there panting for a good minute, soaking in what you just did before Toshi begins pulling away. He looks at his artwork on you, mentally patting himself and telling himself 'good job' before he snakes an arm around your limp body.

"Come on, I'll wash you up." He carries you back to the shower, once again going through the process of soaping your body to make sure you're clean before setting you down on his counter. You flinch and hiss at the contact of your pussy on his counter, it hurt.

Toshi kisses you all over you face, muttering apologies about being too harsh in return you tell him it wasn't his fault at all. He dries up your body and hair, letting you brush your teeth before carrying you to his bed. He dresses you up in his clothes and takes out your special kit- basically a box full of skin care products in case you slept over.

"I'll do your skin care for you, just lay down and relax yourself. He says, sitting cross legged on the floor as he rummages through the products inside the box. You look at him, smiling to yourself and asking yourself how the hell you got so lucky to score someone like him. "Do you want charcoal or a strawberry mask tonight?" He asks, holding up two of your favorite mask packs.

You place your hand on his cheek, caressing it softly. "I love you." You whisper out, his eyes widening as it catches him off guard. Toshi feels his heart sink to his tummy as butterflies flutter and dance all over it. He smiles, a faint blush across his cheek. "I love you more." He kisses the tip of your nose.

Toshi then proceeds to just stare at you for a few moments before looking like he snaps out of his trance. A deep blush takes over his face as he buries his face on your chest in embarrassment. You laugh loudly, asking him what was going on.

"You're too cute, I'm never sharing you or this side of you to anyone." He mumbles against your chest, making you smile widely. He turns his head to the side, eyelids halfway down, "I'm greedy for you and only you. Never sharing you with anyone, ever."

#ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x y/n #hq ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima smut #ushijima fluff #haikyuu smut

540 notes · View notes

fawndango · 2 years ago

Text

My Dark Vanessa

“I’m special. I’m special. I’m special.”

tw: abuse, grooming, student teacher relationships

Just recently finished reading My Dark Vanessa, I read it in one sitting and haven't been able to stop thinking about it so I’ll ramble here.

I skimmed through the tags for the book on here before making this and was thoroughly disgusted at some of the posts using the tag for their coquette aesthetics and the like, but I will tell myself they didn’t read the book and just saw someone on tiktok call it a “hot girl” book or whatever

I did like this book a lot, as much as you can like a book like this. It made my skin crawl and made me reflect a lot on days when i was younger and what its like to be looked at like something to be devoured as a teen/preteen only for that same desire to fade now that i have grown into a woman.

It’s hard for me to talk about the way I felt about characters in fiction like this, the author made it very clear that this was not based on a true story and clearly Strane is a vile monster, so there isn't much to be said there. If I were writing a real paper about this or something i could come up with a more in depth analysis about him as a character but honestly fictional or not i don't think he deserves it, he is a textbook creep.

the writing was really great, and i love an unreliable narrator, though i don't think that's the proper term for Vanessa. Vanessa is immature and selfish but she is traumatized and she feels like a very alive character. Seeing the world through the eyes of a victim is so frustrating in a way that it needs to be. Clearly the reader can see the missteps, the manipulation, but its hard to remember what its like to be that age, to be so desperate for someone to show you attention when you need it most and tell you that you are special. being a teen is so volatile and uncontrollable and it makes the moments when we are reminded of just how young she is all the more unsettling.

“He’s always going to be old. He has to be. That’s the only way I can stay young and dripping with beauty.”

I saw a lot of reviews where people said that they didn’t like Vanessa as a character, which i think is fair, but i think it shouldn't be said without acknowledging the reasons why her character is the way she is. why she is rude, why she lies and steals and gives young girls cigarettes.

I ended up liking the writing more in the flashback sections, but the content is much more disturbing and ill point again to the tw on the top of the post because yeah certainly don't read this without proper info going in because its pretty explicit

my biggest issue in the book was the politics that feel so so heavy handed, and i absolutely do not mean that in a “keep politics out of my literature” freak way i mean that the direct call outs to trump, the clintons, “pink pussy hats” and the like felt so so forced and weird. certainly there should have been a better way to approach the social environment of the times and the me too movement within the context of the book without making the other victims of Strane out to be pitchfork wielding mobs of angry women. i get that they aren't actually supposed to be bad and that Vanessa has a warped view of reality and by the end she comes to realize that Taylor is not as different from her as she originally thought, but it just felt like these things were added as an afterthought to make the book a sign of the times.

i give the book a 3.5 out of 5 stars, i think that the way that tiktok and booktube has branded the book really does it a disservice, it is a book with a really heavy topic that deserves to be approached as such. I think it is a good read if you can stomach it but i wouldn't go around recommending it to just anyone

“He relies on me to always have something to say about the stories of obsessive women and monstrous men.”

#my dark vanessa #books #review #ramblings #read the warnings #book review

6 notes · View notes

kojinnie · 4 years ago

Text

The Impossible Request | Levi Ackerman

Based on the request by a lovely anon here. As always, I apologize for putting a little bit of angst into what was supposed to be a full-on fluff :(

levi ackerman x reader; fluff/angst; 2032 words

Captain Levi Ackerman left you with an impossible request during your last ride to the forest with him.

Throughout the whole journey Levi kept looking at you, throwing worried glances frequently at the strange way you rode your horse through the forest. A moment ago, you were about to ride yourself and your horse to a certain death offered by a cliff by the side of the trail. If it wasn’t for your horse’s trained instinct, you’d be a tragic story of a silly death by now.

Admittedly, your focus was not on the trail of the forest hill, nor was it on the hurdles of vines and fallen branches splayed all over your pathway. Levi had to keep screaming at you to keep you from bringing your horse to an accident. Your focus was somewhere else, a distant place that a soldier must not dwell within too long. The unfamiliarity of this place caught you off-guard and as evident by the harrowing way you ride the horse, it has come to ensnare you.

As the thickness of the forest started to dissipate to an open field that overlooked the castle where Survey Corps was stationed at, Levi abruptly changed his direction and stopped your way. Your horse squealed in shock and reared up in effect, almost throwing you to the ground.

The Captain immediately jumped off the horse and darted a piercing stare at you, “Get off. Now.” The way he commanded you sent a shiver down your spine, that tone – his battlefield sternness returned, something far different than the somewhat casual Levi that you have grown to be close with during your off-duty season in the castle with him and the Corps.

It was a scarce occurrence to hear him used that tone far from the warfare. You knew he was enraged. You whimpered almost inaudibly, trying to calm your own racing heartbeat as well as to calm your horse down by patting her cheek, before climbing off of her. The Captain immediately yanked your arms and brought you to the side, under the aid of a huge willow tree whose leaves were yellowing with the arrival of Autumn.

The anger was palpable on his pale face, “Are you—” he was immediately dismayed by the surprising hike in his own tone, something that was almost unprecedented of him. The captain knew that he couldn’t let his rage overcome him. He sighed out of annoyance as he came to maintain his composure, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

“You were riding like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

“I know. Sorry—I—”

“If you want to die, then just tell me. Hange can use you up for experiments.”

“Captain, I—”

There was a momentary silence looming over the two of you. Levi waited for your response but he scoffed and walked away to the edge of the hill when another second passed with your inability to bring any form of coherence in your words. Your heart sunk in disappointment.

Levi squatted and looked afar to the castle. You could see his torso heaved; it was obvious that he was trying to pace his breath from the suppressed anger. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit of what made you so distraught. The idea that a mere emotional disappointment had led you, a trained soldier, to almost kill yourself for not being able to ride your horse right, is of something preposterous. You were ashamed and girded by guilt. As a soldier, you had let emotion distraught your aptitude.

“Tell me or don’t tell me – whatever,” Levi finally broke the silence without looking at you. Your only view of him was his heaving back, “I already knew.”

You knew of it already, but his reiteration shriveled the last hope you had that the Deployment Letter you received this morning was still bound to change, “You can’t do anything to change it?”

“No. I’m a soldier, and it’s my duty to obey,” Levi spoke. You wished you could feel even the tiniest bit of an upset in his words, but there was little to none, “you have been asked for the Garrison. Effective tomorrow. You shall no longer be here when Eren Jaeger arrives. Erwin’s decision, signed by Commander Pyxis.”

It had been three years since you were assigned to the elite Levi Squad by his own choice. Within those years as well, you had seen yourself grown seasoned by the battles alongside your entrusted Captain, as you fought the mouth of deaths countless times together. Naturally, parting apart alive would be hard for you.

People of the Walls knew him as the humanity’s strongest soldier, would they gape in knowing that humanity’s hope needed to stay humane in order to be their beacon of strength? And that was your duty for him – keeping him humane. Even if it was just to learn his meticulous way of brewing his own tea, so when he was injured and bed-ridden, he would still be aided with the warmth of his favorite drink. Even if it was just helping him tying his cravat when his hand was occupied with paper works. Even if it’s just a sleepless night with him at the library as he learned the offense strategy for the upcoming expedition. You’d done all that with no words spoken of how fond you were of him. Even when your smile arose when he finally let you massaged his strained back, or when your fingers touched the bare skin on his back when you were tending his battle scars, you were adamant to let the feelings simmer in painful silence.

In keeping him humane, you must set aside what you want of him. Your childish imagination and desire to settle with him. After all, Levi was a man unbounded, and in certain liberty shall he thrive for humanity. So, you never spoke how much your heart fluttered when he rode in full-speed to save you from the monstrous titan holding you in their grasp. The way he stayed awake, sitting by your bedside all night after a near-death incident that left you barely conscious for a week. You had sworn to bring this truth to death, but you were conscious when, out of desperation, he ran his calloused fingers through the mess of your hair, stroking your temple soft with the coarseness of his fingers as he whispered in prayer, “Please stay alive, please stay alive…” and then Levi spoke of your name, calling out to what was left of you after a bloody expedition. He called for you, not in the stern command the Captain would utter in the battlefield, but with tenderness of a man bound by grievance.

Had you grown a space in your heart to love me? Was the question that hung in your throat when you finally gained consciousness after the injury, where Petra shrieked in relief and happiness, calling out for the others, and then she said, “Welcome back. We miss you terribly. The Captain has been gaunt without you.”

The question throbbed again with simple little things he did. When he shoved more mashed potato to your empty plate, “Eat more,” he would say with more of a grunt rather than a warm suggestion; The tender pat on the back when you successfully cleared your final task; The palpable look of agitation when you returned from an impromptu hunting trip with Eld in the forest that led him wary of your whereabout for two nights – in all those moments, you wished you had the courage to ask him the question: Had you grown a space in your heart to love me? Or were you just being a good leader to your comrades?

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon. The wind breezed through the forest, blowing the yellowed leaves off of its branches, drenching the two of you in the solemn noise of Autumn. Couple of hours ago, Levi had taken you to ride to the forest to collect firewood for supplies, but even then you knew that wasn’t what you rode here for. Levi sat on the dirty ground and sighed, “Come here.” He looked at you, and softly pat the ground by his side.

Levi knew that he assumed a great deal of obligation. He wasn’t daft, he’d grown aware of the murmurs that people left on his path, ‘Look, it’s the humanity’s strongest soldier – Captain Levi Ackerman!’ then when he wasn’t so well-guarded, he’d catch the way those children look up to him with earnest amazement. Those wondrous eyes. The innocence of faultless children is the thing he had sworn to protect when he braced another expedition beyond the wall, at the expense of everything that made him humane – delicacy, tenderness, warmth, and love. But then Levi met you, and since then he began to wonder: ‘What if? What if? What if?’

Levi knew the feeling he had grown to have for you was starting to cloud his judgment when he almost broke the formation to save you from the mouth of a titan. He remembered the awful feeling of riding back to the camp, with your bloodied form on his lap, to be greeted by the discerning look of disappointment from his own comrades. Later that night, as much as the expedition was a success with minimum casualty, Erwin sat him down and bludgeoned him with the fact that negated every virtue Levi had ever stood for, “You compromised the whole formation with your rash action.”

Compromised. Rash action.

The words that had brought Levi to a prolonged regret. Who he was with you, was not the person Levi devoted his heart for. Levi knew he needed to stop. His allegiance was to humanity, to Commander Erwin Smith – and not to you.

As you sat down by his side, he finally looked at you, and smiled. So scarce of the captain, but when he did, you could feel it was genuine.

“I am going to ask you a question,” Levi said, his grey eyes darkened underneath the warm dusk, “and you don’t have to answer it right now.”

You nodded obediently.

“Do you think all this will end? To live in constant fear of death, and,” there was a momentary pause in his sentence. Uncharacteristic of him, as if he was trying to fight his own fright that was starting to nestle deep in his mind, “have ourselves carrying the last bits of humanity’s hope?”

You remained silent as he carried on, “If no, then understand that your re-assignment is a necessity. For the greater good. But if yes, that you believe that this monstrosity will all end eventually, then, I hope…”

“Yes, Captain?”

Levi looked down at the soil where your hands and his were laying side by side. There was a somber smile beginning to rise from his face. He dragged his finger to tangle with yours rather cautiously. You greeted the awkward gesture with open heart, as you slithered your fingers into his grip.

“I hope, you will have the heart to welcome me home…”

“…to you.”

The words drowned you into a deafening silence, no matter that the Autumn breeze was starting to grow stronger as the sun succumbed into the night, no matter that your heart was thumping in all kinds of inexplicable agony – all you could hear was the void of nothingness, in which no matter how close you were to him, you could feel Levi drifting away from you.

Deep down, you knew that none of this walking nightmare they called life was ever going to end. You knew that each one of you was cursed to live the life in wretched reality. You always thought that he had known of it all along, out of so many people, you thought Levi would be the one to never look forward to a future of peace, for peace was an absurd concept as long as humanity was still trapped within the Walls.

And it broke your heart to gain understanding that Levi still had hopes for it. For the unattainable peace. With you.

He had believed in a future that you thought was impossible, and with it you realized that so would be your future with him.

As the sun finally slid to its resting peace, you brought your body closer to his embrace. He brought your face closer to him, he smiled before landing a kiss on your forehead. The genuine kind, of innocence that was so strange in the world of horrors. The kind of warmth he had longed for so many nights with the thought of you. And finally, you smiled at his words, “Yes, I will.” nodding at the impossible request.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi angst #levi fluff #aot levi #snk levi #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #requested

219 notes · View notes

marshmallowgoop · 4 years ago

Text

[Image description: A screenshot from Case Closed Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small. Remaking a scene from Episode 49 in the anime series, Shinichi tells a surprised Heiji, “Because, there is always only one truth.” End image description.]

Shinichi: Because, there is always only one truth.

Sometimes I think it’s kinda weird that I like Detective Conan/Case Closed so much. I mean, everyone in the show is, uh, well, human?

My favorite fiction niche is supposed to be “monsters,” gosh darn it.

But one of the things that attracts me to “monster” stories is the idea that appearances aren’t everything. What’s underneath the surface says more about a person than any outside crust that they happened to be born into.

Which is why I’m putting “monster” in quotes here. It’s not actual monsters that I adore. The characters I have such an affinity for are those who may be wrongly perceived as monstrous or unimportant because of what they look like.

And thinking of it that way... I can get why the goofy murder anime appeals to me. After all, the boiled-down plot synopsis is that there’s a detective people don’t take seriously because of what he looks like.

But, yeah. Characters by themselves aren’t what motivate me to fall in love with stories. Portraits are nice, but I can tell you that at least my eyes are gonna find themselves far more drawn to paintings with more people. It’s relationships between characters that get me more invested in a work of fiction than anything else, and I don’t just mean the shippy, romantic, lovey-dovey stuff (though that’s fun, too). My real start into vomiting out novel-length blog posts wasn’t purely because I liked a “monster”—it was because I liked (and will always like!) that “monster’s” partnership and camaraderie with someone else.

So, long story short? Detective Conan may not have “monsters,” but you could say that I still like it so much anyway because, at the end of the day, I greatly enjoy many of the relationships portrayed in its hundreds of episodes. And particularly, with this overly long preamble in mind, I love the relationship between Shinichi/Conan and Heiji. Because while Conan may not be a fish creature or space alien, he is so often not seen for who he really is.

But Heiji... well. He kind of struggles to see Conan for anything but who he really is.

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Episode 77 of Detective Conan. In the first image, Heiji stands next to his father and waves, saying, “Heya, Kudo! How ya been?!” In the second image, Kogoro, Ran, and Conan appear shocked. Kogoro shouts, “Hattori Heiji?!” Ran asks, “Kudo?” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: Heya, Kudo! How ya been?!

Kogoro: Hattori Heiji?!

Ran: Kudo?

Which, yes. That Heiji sucks so much at this can be detrimental and troublesome and dangerous. I’m not at all trying to advocate that the guy should go around loudly calling Conan “Kudo.”

But when he’s not doing that, I find his relationship with Shinichi/Conan endlessly endearing. Conan’s so used to lying and pretending to be someone he’s not, but he doesn’t have to with Heiji. He can be himself. They can solve mysteries together as if Shinichi had never crossed paths with the Black Organization at all.

Of course, Conan doesn’t have to pitch up his voice and act silly with other characters in the show, either. And I also like those relationships a lot! And I’ll probably/maybe/someday write more about them in the future, too. But while I’m focusing on Heiji, one thing that gets me is just how quick he is at looking beyond appearances. Even before Heiji realizes Conan’s true identity, even when he’d only really met Shinichi once but finds himself absolutely enamored of him regardless (see the top of this post), Heiji still doesn’t take much time at all to recognize Shinichi’s intellect in Conan, and he treats Conan much like he’d treat the guy he desperately wants to see:

[Image descriptions: Screenshots from Episode 58 of Detective Conan. In the first image, Heiji, with a troubled expression on his face, says, “Yeah, but something’s not quite right.” In the second image, Conan is shown beside Heiji. Heiji adds, “Right, boy?” Conan agrees, saying, “Yeah.” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: Yeah, but something’s not quite right. Right, boy?

Conan: Yeah.

And, I mean. This is before Heiji even explicitly and consciously suspects that Conan and Shinichi are one and the same. He just knows the kid’s smart and figures that “Kogoro’s” deductions are actually coming from someone dozens of centimeters smaller.

Which... I really like. It’s undoubtedly sweet that Heiji then immediately makes the connection to Shinichi after Conan explains his thoughts...

[Image description: A screenshot from Episode 58 of Detective Conan. Ran scolds Conan for getting involved in the current case while Heiji, offscreen, thinks to himself, “His voice and body are different, but he’s almost just like Kudo!” End image description.]

Heiji (thinking): His voice and body are different, but he’s almost just like Kudo!

But I love that even prior to the Shinichi link, Heiji doesn’t discourage Conan. I love that no matter how young Conan seems, Heiji understands that he has good things to say and should be listened to.

I mean. That is kinda part of why I like my “monster” niche so much.

(I’m also fond of an anime-only filler episode (36) that explores this topic in more depth, but that’s an essay for another day. Still, maybe another reason I’m so fond of Detective Conan is because I can relate to being babied... but admittedly, that’s at least as much to do with my personality as it is my looks.)

Anyway. This post’s gotten much longer than I intended. But I do wanna talk about one more thing that really cements this “looking beyond the surface” aspect of Shinichi/Conan’s relationship with Heiji, and that’s Heiji’s bad dream described in Episode 118:

[Image descriptions: Screenshots from Episode 118 of Detective Conan. The first image is a close-up shot of Heiji. He says, “I had a bad dream...” The next two images zoom out, showing Heiji’s back and Conan beside him. In the second image, Conan asks, “Dream?” Heiji replies, “Yeah. It happens when we catch a bad guy.” In the third image, Heiji finishes, “But he winds up stabbing and killing you instead!” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: I had a bad dream...

Conan: Dream?

Heiji: Yeah. It happens when we catch a bad guy. But he winds up stabbing and killing you instead!

In Funimation’s English dub, Heiji even tries to further play off how much the dream bothered him, joking, “Like you could ever catch a suspect!”

But it becomes clear later in the episode that Heiji never dreamed of Conan getting stabbed and killed, even if that’s what almost happens near the end. Heiji’s nightmare involved only Shinichi getting hurt:

[Image description: A screenshot from Episode 118 of Detective Conan. Conan has his hand on his face in thought, while in the background, Heiji imagines Shinichi in pain, clutching a bloody wound on his chest. End image description.]

Because, in the end? That’s how Heiji always sees the guy. As himself.

And I absolutely adore it.

#detective conan #case closed #heiji hattori #shinichi kudo #conan edogawa #ramblings #long post #spoilers #detco spoilers #blood #injury #not to be personal on main but i've been really upset about work so i tried to write something #because i guess i used to do that when i felt bad #idk how though it's embarrassing how long this took to write idk what i'm doing but anyway i love them and hope this makes sense

202 notes · View notes

monicashipslokius · 3 years ago

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 3

(read Part 1/Part 2)

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki paces the length of the small bathroom, turning after only two steps. On each turn they catch sight of themself in the mirror, as hard as they try not to. They don’t want to see the cowardice marring their own features. They don’t want to face themself, knowing they are standing here in relative safety at the cost of their soulmate’s.

Through the thin walls, Loki hears another pound on the front door. Mobius calls out, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Loki stops pacing and presses their ear to the bathroom door, straining to hear outside of it.

After the creak of a door opening, Mobius says, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mobius M. Mobius?” Thor has a weakness for Midgard and its people. Even as he speaks to Mobius now, his voice isn’t quite as booming as Loki is accustomed to.

“That’s me. Are you selling something?”

“I...? No. May I enter?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I’m kind of busy, you know?”

“I see,” Thor says. “Wait! I’m looking for someone.”

“Sorry,” Mobius says. The door creaks again, loud, like it tried to close but was blocked by a hard shoulder.

“I must insist,” Thor says, and there’s the booming authority Loki expected. Heavy footfalls step into the apartment. Loki instinctively leans away from the bathroom door. “Do you live here, or is this a closet?”

“Hey, why does everyone think that,” Mobius says, his following footsteps much softer. “My apartment is not that small.”

“It is,” Thor says, blunt as ever, though perhaps his own time on Midgard changed him a small amount, because he immediately adds, “But... nice. Very... brown.” A long, awkward pause. “Seeing this... I feel apologies are in order. I cannot imagine Loki hiding here.”

Loki knows that their usual love of decadent flair is what’s saving them now, but the words still sting. It’s one thing for them to think disparagingly about their new home. It is entirely another for someone else to speak badly of it. Even Thor.

Maybe especially Thor.

“It seems silly now,” Thor says. “I had heard you are their soulmate.”

“It doesn’t seem all that silly,” Mobius says, voice much softer.

“I mean no offense,” Thor says. “Only that you are not their type.”

“Oh? Too old?”

Thor laughs. “Too human. But consider yourself lucky, friend."

"I don't know, I'd think it'd be okay to be the soulmate of a god."

"Not this god," Thor says, and that familiar self-hatred claws at Loki's ribcage from the inside out. They place their hand over their chest, physically pressing down on the feeling, but it does not stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mobius clips his words short.

Loki braces themself as Thor continues, "They never stay with anyone for long. They haven’t met a person yet who could hold their interest.”

“Maybe they just hadn’t met the right person,” Mobius says, stronger.

"Right people tend not to hang around my brother. You may have noticed that they are..." Thor pauses and Loki holds their breath. "A villain." Thor, at least, sounds pained to say it, though that is little comfort for Loki.

The word shouldn't hurt them. It is true. Despite their glorious purpose, they will never be seen as a hero, but only ever as the one who stands in the hero's way.

“Or instead," Mobius says, stronger still. Irritation oozes from his words. "Maybe they got so used to being seen as a villain that they started to think that’s all they are.”

The scratching in Loki's chest slows until it ceases entirely. Mobius.

But the calming effect of Mobius's defensive fury does not linger.

Thor holds his tongue a moment, and in that moment, a thick dread buds in the pit of Loki’s stomach. Thor may be oblivious at times, but he is not totally obtuse. And Mobius is angry enough for even him to take notice.

“Have you seen Loki, Mobius M. Mobius?”

“I think you should leave now,” Mobius says.

“So it’s true?” Thor asks, like he still doesn’t believe it. “You are Loki’s soulmate?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“They must be deceiving you. Tell me where they are, and I will take them back to Asgard. Then you will be safe.”

“Loki’s not going anywhere with you,” Mobius says, stupidly brave. Stupidly perfect.

Outside a storm brews. Thunder rumbles the walls, as loud as Thor’s voice. “Do not stand in my way, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“No, you don’t get to order me around,” Mobius says. “You barge into my home and try to kidnap my soulmate. You didn’t even do it at a reasonable hour. We were asleep!”

“I am a god.” Lightning cracks outside the window, the light so bright, it flashes under the door of the bathroom. “You are a human.”

Mobius huffs out a breath. “I’m not giving them up. You’ll just have to kill me.”

Every nerve in Loki’s body, every pulse in their brain, the very breath in their lungs - all scream, No!

The bathroom door flies off its hinges from the force of Loki pushing through. Their daggers are in their hands, their armor has replaced their silk pajamas - there is no room for softness here.

Mobius glances behind him from where he’s standing, blocking the bathroom from Thor in the kitchen. “You broke the door,” Mobius says, entirely too calm for a man who was just about to throw his life away.

“We are going to discuss your blatant disregard for your own fragile life,” Loki tells him, stalking forward to Mobius’s side.

“I had it under control,” Mobius says.

Loki sucks in a deep breath to try to tamper down their roaring rage. “No longer will you risk yourself for me.”

“No, sorry, Loki.” Mobius crosses his arms. “You don’t get to boss me around either. I told you, soulmates protect each other. And that’s that.”

“You stupid, brave, impossible man.”

“Dying for you would be worth it.”

“And what am I to do at that point? Hm? Bid your corpse a fond farewell and move along?”

Mobius startles, like he hadn’t thought ahead that far. “Yeah, I guess.”

If Loki wasn’t holding daggers, they would grip him by the shoulders and shake him. “You have no idea what you are to me. You have no perception of how long I have waited for you. For us. For this tiny little room. For everything we shared last night. And all that we will share.”

Mobius’s eyes widen. “Loki -”

“No, Mobius. You will not be throwing your life away. Not now. Not ever. Not while I have strength enough to hold a blade.”

Mobius blinks. The surprise on his face lasts a moment longer, then softens entirely into fondness. “Let’s go to the store later. Buy some stuff. Spruce this place up a little. We can get a plant or two. And maybe a new bathroom door.”

Loki exhales, and the harshest of their anger slips away. “Only if we also buy you new clothes.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Mobius is smiling now.

Loki almost mirrors it. Until he remembers their thunderous brother occupying the entire minuscule kitchen. Thor seems to lack his usual righteousness. Instead, he looks between Loki and Mobius like he has no idea what to make of them. His mouth hangs open but no sound comes out.

A moment, Thor tries, “Brother, you...” He closes his mouth. Opens it. “You... actually care for this little man?”

Loki’s answer comes easier than even they expected, “Yes.”

“I’m not that little,” Mobius says.

Outside the storm clears away and starlight returns. Inside, Thor lowers his hammer to his side, no longer holding it ready to fight. He stares at Loki for a long moment. “We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

Loki’s impulse is to argue. They aren’t yet numb to the pain of Odin’s deception. Of Loki’s own monstrous truth.

But instead of drudging forward that pain, Loki draws strength from Mobius beside them. From the comfort of their home. From the promise of buying new drapes and bed sheets.

“I’m not going back,” Loki says, hating the way their voice cracks. Mobius inches closer to their side, and they stand taller.

“You cannot rule Midgard,” Thor says.

Loki glances at Mobius, who gives them a soft smile.

“Mostly,” Loki says, “I want to buy drapes.”

Mobius’s smile widens, and he dips his head, as if to hide it. Loki loses themself in the sight of such softness and warmth, until they remember their brother again.

Thor watches them, his confusion palpable. “This is not at all as father said it was.”

Loki tenses at the mention of Odin.

“A lot’s different since yesterday,” Mobius says. “Dubuque can really change a person, you know?” Mobius winks at Loki, and a fresh wave of comfort rolls through them.

“Yes,” Loki says. “Dubuque.”

“Perhaps I could return without you,” Thor says, confusion shifting gradually into something more sure. “If you hand over the tesseract.”

Loki pointedly refrains from glancing at the coat closet. As, to Loki’s surprise, does Mobius. Surely he had seen them place the scepter within. Surely he could parse together what the tesseract could be.

“You wouldn’t need it to buy drapes.” Thor’s grip tightens on the handle of Mjolnir, but he does not yet raise it again.

Loki’s body tenses like a bowstring. There is no way out of this then, without a fight. “You have no comprehension of its power, brother. Of what I could have, what I could achieve with it in my possession. With what I’ve been promised.”

“Promised?” Thor asks. “Promised by who?”

A chill creeps over Loki’s skin, inch by slow inch. They think of the creatures that invade their mind, that found them when they fell from the Bifrost.

You could have this, they whisper, even now. You are nothing without this.

“Loki?” Mobius whispers. “Are you okay?”

Shaking their mind free from the dark grasp, Loki thoughts travel instead to those same creatures wrapping Mobius in their viciousness. Tearing him down. Exploiting his deepest vulnerabilities.

The cold runs deep, all consuming.

With the tesseract still in Loki’s possession, maybe they could protect Mobius. Or, the opposite. Maybe those creatures will never stop hunting them until Loki finally does as they command.

When it was Loki alone, forgotten and fallen, following the icy commands was no question, when both vengeance and a crown were promised.

But Loki is no longer alone.

To Loki’s surprise, concern covers Thor’s face as well, and he has taken a step closer, hand half-lifted, as if in a halted attempt to reach out to them.

“The tesseract will not bring you happiness, Loki,” Thor says, and motions toward Mobius. “Not in the way your soulmate can. You must make a choice.”

“They don’t have to chose,” Mobius says. “I’m staying with them, regardless of what they want to do.”

“But they must,” Thor tells him. “I will be leaving here with either Loki or the tesseract. I’d prefer to do it without a fight.”

Mobius takes a step forward. “I already told you, Loki isn’t going anywhere.”

“If forced, I will take you both to Asgard,” Thor says.

Loki thinks of Mobius standing before Odin, of all the brave, protective things he would say to the All-Father in Loki’s defense. And Loki thinks of how fast Odin would cut him down, Loki’s soulmate or not.

“No,” Loki says.

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki disappears their daggers, then goes to the closet and draws open the door. They reach through Mobius’s brown suits and retrieve the scepter. It’s cold in their hand.

They could grab Mobius and teleport away. Together, they could go anywhere. Thor would need time to track them down. But they’d have to keep running. They’d never be able to stop.

Loki thinks of Mobius, sweating in the desert. Humans are weak, fragile things. Mobius would not be able to sustain that kind of life.

The scepter, the creatures, whisper to Loki, He will die anyway. Why shouldn't you have more?

"All my life, I’ve been in your shadow,” Loki says to Thor. Thor lifts his hammer, readying for the fight to come. “This is my chance to carve my own path. To find my own throne. The Midgardians are hapless. They are in desperate need of a ruler.”

Loki looks at Mobius and finds him watching Thor, body tense like he intends to jump in the way if Thor were to attack. He will die anyway.

“There is no happiness in the promise of a throne, Loki.” Thor frowns, and after a brief, sideways glance at Mobius, his eyes turn sad. “We have waited the same for a soulmate. You have found yours, while I am still waiting. I ask you, who lives in envy of who?”

A new feeling twists inside Loki - something like... pity? For Thor? No. Impossible. Thor has had a life filled with all of his whims being catered to. Ever the favorite. The favored.

Yet.

Thor has no Mobius of his own.

He will die anyway. But. Not yet. Not yet.

“To be honest,” Mobius says, drawing Loki’s attention. “Humans are kind of a drag. We fight all the time, can’t agree on anything. I know that’s half why you think you can fix it all, but really, it sounds like a bigger headache than it’s worth.” He shrugs. “You and I, we’ll do whatever you want. I’ve got your back 100%. But... if you were King of Earth, do you get any vacation days? Cause I got some places I really want to take you.”

Looking at Mobius, hearing his words, listening to the steady cadence of his voice, Loki warms from the inside out.

“We need to go to the beach. You saw my jetski picture, right?” Mobius turns to Thor. “You ever been on a jetski?”

Thor blinks at him. “...No?”

“You’ll love it. It’s so much fun. Out on the waves, just you and the ocean - with the wind in your hair, and the sun all bright.” Mobius turns his smile back to Loki, and Loki doubts any sunshine could ever be as brilliant as him. “What do you think, Loki?”

The cruel whispers grow dim. Thoughts of, You are nothing without a crown, are replaced with, What worth is a crown without him?

The chill burns away, until the scepter is too cold, too painful to hold.

Loki moves closer to the kitchen. Thor raises his hammer. Mobius hurries forward.

But everyone stops when Loki surrenders the scepter - the tesseract - to Thor. As soon as it is gone from their hand, Loki feels a heavy weight lifted away. The chill leaves entirely, and their mind is silent once more.

“You’ve made the right choice, brother,” Thor says. They lower Mjolnir to the ground to look closer at the scepter.

“Odin will not be pleased when you return without me,” Loki says.

Thor hums. “I will pass along your promise to behave yourself.”

“I made no such promise.” With Loki’s new weightlessness, a small, sly smirk slips onto their lips. It's shaky and unsure, but Thor doesn't mention it.

Thor slides his gaze to Mobius. “I think you will have your hands too full to do otherwise, with how quickly this one throws himself into trouble.” He pitches his voice low. “I like him. He’s small, but brave.”

Pride swells in Loki. They didn’t need Thor’s approval, but having it...

“Mobius M. Mobius!” Thor walks to Mobius and draws him into a tight hug. “Now my brother. I await the day our paths cross again!”

Mobius awkwardly pats him on the back. “Yeah, sure! Sounds great.”

As they break, Loki begins to steer Thor toward the door. Thor looks as if he also wants to wrap Loki in a hug, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, "We will see each other again."

"We will," Loki says, a promise. And for now, it is enough.

Thor starts forward, when Mobius calls out, “Wait, you forgot your hammer.”

Loki and Thor both turn away from the door, toward the kitchen - where Mobius stands, hand gripping Mjolnir’s handle, holding it up off the ground. He brings it forward and hands it to Thor, who stares at him, mouth agape.

Mobius says, “Surprisingly light?”

Loki bites back a smile. They knew their soulmate was no ordinary mortal.

Thor looks at Mobius like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Only to those who are worthy. You are small in stature, but not in heart, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Uh, thanks?” Mobius says. Softer, he adds, “I’m really not that small.”

When Thor is gone, with the slightly damaged front door bolted behind him, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Told you I’d get rid of him.”

Loki reaches out, grabs Mobius by the shoulders, and pulls him into their embrace. They do not let go for a long time.

Mobius holds them back, nose tucked into the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. “I would have followed you,” he says, voice muffled. “You want to be king? We’d make it happen. You didn’t have to give it up.”

Loki will tell him of the whispers and the cold, of the dark promises made. Later. “Perhaps another time,” they say. “Plenty of life to find a throne of my own.” Though as the words leave them, they know they are only half true. Plenty of time for Loki. No time at all for Mobius. The creatures no longer whisper in Loki's mind but they still hear their mocking, He will die.

“I was thinking we could get a couple chairs while we’re out.”

Loki can’t help and doesn’t stop their grin, even as their heart aches. “See? My fortune is already changing.”

“I’ll buy you the best throne,” Mobius says. “You ever heard of La-Z-Boy?”

Loki closes their eyes, presses their forehead to Mobius's shoulder, and wonders how, with the cruel inevitability of human mortality, they will ever go on without this man.

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #fair warning this is pretty long if you pop open the readmore #ao3 link will come tomorrow #thor /#part 3 of 5 #soulmate au #avengers 1 divergence

59 notes · View notes

foilfreak · 4 years ago

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1

A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

Summary:

Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.

The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.

This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.

Chapter 1: Mother's Gift

Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.

A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.

Mother had a gift for him.

Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.

Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.

Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?

“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.

“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.

“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.

“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.

“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”

Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?

‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.

“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.

The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.

“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.

“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.

Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.

“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.

“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.

As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?

It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.

Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.

Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.

Oh how wonderful that would be!

#salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #mother miranda #beauty and her beast #fic #mine #chapter 1 #re8 #re8 village #re village #salvatore moreau x reader #moreau x reader #moreau x oc #salvatore moreau x oc

90 notes · View notes

wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.3

"You shall serve under Childe," the Tsaritsa gestured for you to rise to your feet. "Mezzetin."

"Uh...bless you?"

"Thus is your new name: Mezzetin," the archon repeated, raising a brow at your attitude.

"That's not my name."

"Am I hearing you break the contract you proposed to me only a few minutes ago?" You bit your tongue to refrain from ripping her a new one. "Childe, why don't you show her to her new room?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Childe led you down an especially long corridor that brought you to what looked like a type of barracks situation. He opened a door that stood on the left side of the hall and showed you around. It wasn't that bad of a room; it held a balcony that looked over the snowy landscape outside. The walls were a deep burgundy color with dim lighting, which only seemed to further mock your dark circumstances .

"How do you like your room, Mezzetin?"

"If I hear that god-awful name again, I--" That's odd. Why is there a mask on my bed? You picked it up and noted it was the same color as the walls. It might have been slightly similar to Xiao's mask, in that it looked relatively animal-like. It was harbinger-status, being that it held no similarities with that of the Fatui agent or skirmisher masks and was completely unique.

"Ah, that caught your attention? It's yours."

Why was there already a spare mask? I barely made the decision to join them not even ten minutes ago. Do they have a surplus of masks here? Your gaze rose to Childe's in a questionable manner.

"What?" Childe let out an awkward laugh.

"Nothing."

"Well, I should get back to the throne room and let you adjust here for a bit, no? I'll return soon." His suspicious hurry to leave made you roll your eyes, but your attention just returned to the mask in your hands.

Why did they already have a mask for me?

...............................

"Well done, Childe." The Tsaritsa praised her devoted weapon of war as he knelt before her. "When you proposed your idea to me I wasn't sure you'd be up for such a task, especially since you hate deception. Everything played out exactly as you expected. You have earned my praise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Childe rose to his feet and revealed a dark grin.

Signora slowly clapped her hands as she approached the teen. "To think that our youngest and most inexperienced would come up with a plan to manipulate the girl into joining us by manipulating Morax into waging war--you have matured greatly, Childe."

"Your praise is appreciated, Fair Lady."

"Just do your job correctly and make sure she doesn't get any bright ideas to turn on us," Scaramouche walked out of the throne room.

"Not one to praise another, as expected," Childe sneered.

"The sixth harbinger is correct, Childe. While your plan has succeeded, your duty does not end here. Such is why the girl will be in your hands; do not fail me."

................................

"...What do we do now?" Aether's voice pierced the snow that fell upon the trio as they headed for the Snezhnayan border. The walk had been excruciatingly long and quiet, the atmosphere holding a somber note and sour aftertaste in everyone's mouths.

"...I suppose we continue to look for you sister," Zhongli suggested. "That is what you originally gathered us for, is it not?" The archon kept his gaze on the snowy ground.

"It is..." Aether's gaze shifted to Xiao, who was quieter than he usually was. "What do you think, Xiao?"

"I'm returning to Liyue and continuing my duty."

"So that's it?" The boy stopped in his tracks. "We're just going to give up on her? Is that it? I'm not going to just sit around while she's still stuck in that dreadful place. Don't you two cherish her like I do? Don't you, Xiao?" His hands curled into tight fists as he thought about Lumine. He couldn't comprehend the idea of giving up either of you.

The two adepti halted, and the yaksha met Aether's eyes.

"Don't think we haven't noticed how the two of you look at each other," Paimon popped up and put her hands on her hips. "You two like each other more than teammates! We're not stupid! So why are you just walking away?"

"She chose her path," Xiao stated. "It's not like I can dissuade her from her decision; she clearly felt strongly about it."

"If she does not wish to be saved, there is nothing we can do," added Zhongli.

"Well she clearly thought you guys were going to get a bunch of innocent people killed over her!" Paimon huffed. "Of course she wouldn't want to be saved if it meant all that death would be her fault!"

"Paimon..." Aether's gaze wavered at his emergency food.

"And you!" The mascot switched to Xiao. "She clearly loves you, but you have no idea what that means even though it's bright as day that you feel the same for her! Why didn't you tell her?!"

"I can't make much of human em--"

"No! Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go back there, confess your lovey-dovey feelings and get her out of there!"

Xiao disappeared before their eyes, obviously agitated by Paimon's annoying rant. "Great," Aether pulled at his hair. "Now look at what you did, Paimon."

"He needs to hear the truth at some point!" She huffed.

..................................

"Xiao?" Aether and Paimon investigated the Wangshu Inn as soon as they got back to Liyue a week or so later. "Are you up here?"

"What do you want?" The adeptus appeared next to them in a similar manner to when they first met. He was just as unwelcoming as he was back then.

"We made some almond tofu!" Paimon made a giddy gesture to Aether, and the boy held the dish out to Xiao.

"We thought you would like some," he gave a faint grin. The yaksha didn't return it, instead returning his gaze to the moonlit scenery past the railing.

"I'll pass."

"Oh..." This is really bad. Aether sent a worried glance to Paimon. "Are you sure? You love almond tofu."

"Mortal food is not to my liking," the yaksha grit his teeth in agitation. "You should leave. There's no reason for the two of you to be here."

"Don't be so rude to us! We came to talk about her!" Paimon flew forward so that she blocked Xiao's view of the scenery. "We know how much you care about her. Isn't there a way to contact her somehow? You know, with your psychic abilities or something?"

"This conversation is pointless. If there's nothing else, see yourselves out."

"Xiao." Aether's shoulders dropped as he tried to figure out the correct words. He failed to come up with something, and looked to Paimon. "...Let's go."

Xiao didn't bother to glance their way as they made their exit, instead focusing on the scenery below him. He hadn't heard from you since you saw him off. 'I love you,' she said. Why does remembering it hurt so much? He shivered as he remembered the look in your eyes. They were so gentle, kind, yet broken. Like you had just...given up on life. Just what had Childe done to you to make you say those things? His thoughts were fortunately interrupted when he felt a shift of energy carried through the wind. He looked to the Guili Plains up ahead, and dispersed.

The yaksha came upon several lawachurls, which were relatively uncommon to the area compared to other places in Liyue. The evil that consumed them reeked of gods past. Xiao didn't hesitate to wave a hand over his face and manifest his yaksha mask, throwing himself into his life-long work of defeating the evil that plagues Liyue. Only this time, he used it as an outlet for his frustrations rather than solely fighting to fulfill his duty.

"My fight goes on." That's right, he watched the demonic smoke whirl around him. My fight does not stop for her. My duty is here. He twirled his polearm and leapt through the air, slicing at the closest lawachurl. Since he and the monsters were far from the nearest road, he let loose a little. And by a little, I mean a lot.

The nearest trees splintered from the shockwave of his attacks, with the other lawachurls shaking off the bulky rock armor off their backs. The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Xiao plummeted to the earth and subsequently killed the first lawachurl with the blow. Then he moved onto the next one, finding no fear in the monstrous bellow that greeted him face-to-face. He shoved the lance through it's bottom jaw and jutted it through the skull with little effort.

The third charged just as he removed his polearm from the corpse of the second. This time Xiao whipped around and thrust his weapon into the monster's knee, yanking it out to then deal several blows across its chest and decapitate it. "Worthless," he growled as he watched the monsters disintegrate. He continued his attacks on the remaining four until he stood alone among the ruins. He watched as the spirits of the damned returned to their rightful places in the earth.

Xiao thought nothing of the disturbed soils and began to walk towards the inn once more until the demonic voices called out to him. Some were quiet, no more than a whisper, while others were obnoxiously loud and demanded attention. They moaned and whined, each having a unique pitch of anger tinging their curses and cries for help. Xiao fell to his knees, with his body leaning on his polearm as it was overwhelmed with the hatred of the damned. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Not this again.

...............................

Your time in Snezhnaya wasn't fun so far, and you often secluded yourself in your room whenever you had the chance to avoid the Tsaritsa or her little puppets. Childe checked on you often, doing so in a way that showed his concern for your obvious depression as you longingly stared out into the winter wonderland from your window.

You were being pestered by Childe yet again when you became overwhelmingly dizzy and nauseous. "Urk--" You doubled over and grabbed onto the curtain to steady yourself.

"Hey, are you alright?" Childe put a concerned hand on your shoulder.

"What is...this...?" Your fit of nausea transformed into an overwhelming hatred for nothing in particular. You fell to all fours, heaving from a level of anger never experienced before. "What is this!"

"...Comrade?" His words were drowned out by the desperate screams that entered your mind. Your hands hurried to cover your ears in an attempt to make the voices stop, but they didn't disappear.

"They're so loud!" You cried out, now in physical pain that was equivalent to being set on fire and shredded with knives. "Stop! Shut up!"

Childe quickly dropped to your level and lifted your chin up to examine your glowing eyes and the tears drenching your cheeks. "What's wrong?" He mouthed, but you still couldn't hear him.

"It hurts!" You coughed, one hand covering your mouth only to be retracted and painted with your blood. I'm bleeding? Panic set in and the pain only worsened, the voices getting louder and louder while Childe desperately tried to get you to answer him. "This hate! Why do I feel so hateful? Make it stop!" You were screaming hysterically now, squeezing your eyes shut and clawing at your ears until they too began to bleed. "Make it stop!" Your senses were easily overwhelmed, and all you could focus on was the pain and the volume of the voices surrounding you. "Please!" You couldn't seem to catch a decent breath of air like something heavy was sitting on you.

"Hey now!" The harbinger watched the blood spill from the lips. This is... He pulled you close to him and held you tightly, ordering for medical aid when an agent burst through the door from hearing the ruckus. "It's okay, it's okay--"

All you could do was continue to heave deep breaths to quell the rage that resided within you, to quell the demonic voices that demanded you to succumb to them. Childe didn't let up his grip around you and pressed your head tightly against his chest. Rage. Hatred. Agony. The feelings tore through you like you were made of paper. It was hard to explain, but the emotions felt otherworldly; nonhuman. Your blood continued to seep from your mouth and soak into Childe's clothes while he continued to rock you back and forth. Your screams were a mixture of cries for help and manic giggling as you lost all sense of rationality.

.......................................

"Hey girlie," the familiar harbinger was hovering above your face when you finally reopened your eyes. You were apparently still in your room, this time lying in bed with a damp cloth draped across your forehead and the moonlight illuminating the two of you. "How're you feeling?"

"Mn." You blinked sluggishly and tried to move around.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that. You were bleeding internally, you know," he let out a strangled laugh as you returned to your original position. "You really had us worried for a sec."

"Yeah right." The growl that emitted from your throat seemed to put Childe off guard, another flash of concern waving over his demeanor. It was clear residual hatred still resided in you even though that was your usual response to his remarks. Your eyes were still glowing.

"You feel his pain now?" He raised a brow. "Is that how this bond works?"

"What of it?" A dry giggle escaped your chapped lips as the hushed voices continued to plague you.

Interesting...This could pose a possible problem for the soldiers...I should inform Dottore immediately. Childe removed himself from the bed and headed for the door. "I'll check on you in a few hours. Try and get some rest."

A slight draft brushed across the tip of your nose the second he closed the door, and you looked to the window to find a shadowy figure obscuring the moonlight that entered the room. It slowly approached the bed until it stood at your side. The closer it got, the louder the voices became. You winced when it leaned over you.

"You..." Xiao's face occupied most of your vision. He didn't need to know what happened to understand it was linked to his dealings with the possessed lawachurls a few hours ago. "I felt your distress."

"What're you doing here?" You snapped quietly, the voices still raging a storm within your words. It's not like you've communicated with him at all ever since you confessed your feelings. He had no reason to be here...right?

"Do not fall prey to the darkness," he warned. "I cannot save you if you allow yourself to be overrun." He hesitantly placed a hand against your forehead in an attempt to gage your wellbeing. He didn't have the powers of Zhongli, so there was no point in trying, but he did it anyway. Your glowing eyes seemed to capture his, and the two of you stared at one another for a few moments.

Another laugh left your lips, and it was nothing short of disturbing unlike the airy carefree ones Xiao had heard you release before. It was evil. Mocking. "I never called you here."

The yaksha let out something between a growl and a sigh. "I have no choice but to kill you if you're consumed. Do not let them overwhelm you," he repeated as he locked on your eyes. While his words were sharp, the look in his eyes was nothing but endearing. "I can always hear them, but you don't have to. It's just a side effect; this too, shall pass."

"...It hurts." Those two pained whimpers broke through the wall of hatred that surrounded you from within. The glowing lights in your eyes flickered as you regained yourself in his presence.

"I understand," he assured while his hand left your forehead to accompany your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your skin to wipe the tear that had fallen from your right eye. He winced when he realized blood was mixed in with it, but didn't let on that he was taking a closer look at your eye. Mortal bodies cannot withstand this...He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of the worst-case scenario that had consumed his fellow yakshas long ago. If we get them out of her now, she should still be able to fully recover.

He continued to stroke your cheek while you stared up at him, still unable to fully move your tired limbs that felt like they were severed at the ligaments. Eventually you gathered enough strength to move your arm and place your hand over the one that cupped the side of your face. You weren't sure of how much time had passed, but painful tears fell occasionally and were coupled with Xiao's brief looks of concern.

"I'm here," he soothed. Archons, the way he handled you was so delicate. Had he ever been this gentle with you, even when he caught you in your lowest moments? If he had, the voices made it difficult to retrieve the memory. They continued to scream and swirl within the depths of your mind, but the presence of the yaksha subdued them somewhat.

"I-I didn't...want to leave you..." Your bloodied tears stained his hand and your pillow. Xiao shifted on the bed upon hearing this and feeling your tears brim the corners of his eyes. He continued to stroke your cheek.

"Do not speak; you're making your condition worse," he ordered. "I can't hold your decision against you."

"But--"

"'What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together.' Are those not your words?" His head tilted slightly, and a fond smile formed across his lips. "Rest. I will be here until morning."

"Don't...leave..." You begged, gripping his hand a little tighter. "Please."

Xiao watched the glow in your eyes eventually flicker out right before you fell asleep. He took it upon himself to wipe the bloody streaks from your cheeks, and even let you continue to hold his hand while you slept. He stayed true to his word and sat beside you until the first light of dawn shone through your window, his hand never fully leaving your skin until he had to return to Liyue.

....................

Coming up: A harbinger’s gift: some much-needed therapy. Tea time with an archon. The moonsong.

#arent you glad i didnt leave you on a cliffhanger from the last chapter #i was feeling generous for lantern rite #season of giving #youre welcome #impromptu post #genshin impact #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin x reader #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #xiao moment

217 notes · View notes

thetaleoflevi · 4 years ago

Text

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Role Reversal

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Content Type: SFW, Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, emotional breakdown, explicit language

Description: Levi and Reader’s roles are reversed. Reader is the Captain and humanity’s strongest soldier with the apathetic attitude, and Levi is the ordinary (not so ordinary) soldier with a less cynical view on life.

Word Count: 5.8k+

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was another late night of you sitting in your dimly lit office, filling out countless reports of the bodies that weren’t recovered after the last expedition. A sigh of sorrow escaped your lips, followed by you rubbing the bridge of your nose. So many good people were gone in the blink of an eye and you had to be the one to fill out the pages that informed their loved ones that the Scout Regiment was unable to bring them back home. Death was a subject that haunted your dreams ever since you joined the Scouts. It’s much worse now that you’ve been given the trust and responsibility that comes with the title of ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.’

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard a voice coming from your bedroom. “Come to bed, Captain Y/N. You work too hard.” Through the open door, you can see Levi sitting on your bed, head against the headboard and legs crossed. He was smirking, knowing you hated being addressed by your title when it was just you and him.

You let it slide, knowing that if it weren’t for him you’d be a fully developed insomniac. He’s very persistent when it comes to taking care of you. “Come lay with me.” He called once again. “I can’t, Levi. I have to finish this up or else i’ll have to do it tomorrow. We have that meeting with Erwin and all the officers tomorrow, so this would only take up more of my time.” You picked up your pen again and began writing the name of another deceased soldier. “I miss you.” You can hear the longing in his voice. “I know.” You mumbled, not looking up. Your brows furrowed as you wrote ‘Deceased’, under the soldier’s name.

“Then if you’re not coming to me, i’m coming to you.” You hear the rustling of Levi throwing your blanket off of his lap. His footsteps are quiet, but with your dog-like hearing you’re able to know where he is. In a few seconds he’s standing behind you, his chin taking its place on your head.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” He questioned, feeling happier now that he’s next to you. “Missing body reports.” That was all you could say about it—all you wanted to say about it. “Almost my entire squad was demolished.” You whispered to yourself as you moved on to the third deceased member of your squad. It was a young girl. She hadn’t been a Scout for more than two years, yet she came to know and love everyone as if they were the family she was born into. She had just turned seventeen, making her the second youngest member to have been on your squad.

“I’m sorry, love. I know I can’t make this hurt you’re feeling go away.” He stood up straight and tucked strands of hair that fell in your face behind your ear. “Do you want to sit on my lap while you work?” He knew exactly what to do to make you feel better, and you never declined his offer. “Yes, please.” You pushed back and rose from the wooden chair. You moved a little to your right to allow him to sit down.

With the way you were so compliant when it came to him, no one who hadn’t met you before would guess that you were the Captain and humanity’s strongest soldier. You looked like a teddy bear sitting on his lap, meanwhile his features are fierce and he was able to shut people up without intending to. In reality, he’s very approachable and kind.

His chest was to your back, his arms around your torso, his chin on your shoulder. He gave you the strength to continue writing with less of a shake in your hand. “I want you to sleep tonight, Y/N. Not on the couch, not in here—but next to me on your bed.” You could feel the vibrations of his voice on your shoulder. You finished writing the sentence you had started and responded to his request. “I’m not gonna promise you that. You’re welcome to sleep on the bed if you want, though.”

Your heart dropped when you heard him sigh quietly. It felt like he was disappointed in you, when really he just wanted to hold you close for a few hours. It helped him forget the monstrous reality you both lived in.

You felt him adjust for the last time on your shoulder, tilting his head to the side. You didn’t pay attention to him as he did so, focusing on the last deceased member of your squad. The youngest, at the young age of fifteen, was gone. How cruel does the world have to be to end the life of someone who was born into mayhem? Who never saw or experienced peace?

You didn’t notice Levi had fallen asleep until you felt soft breathing on your neck. Wisps of hair had fallen messily on his face and his arms loosened around your torso. It was a beautiful, calming sight. He looked so innocent and at ease. You reached down to where his hands rested on your stomach and squeezed his palm softly. For the duration of the time you spent working, your hand ghosted around his. He stirred awake every once in a while which resulted in you whispering for him to go back to sleep. Each time he would re-tighten his arms around you, nudging you like a puppy until he was comfortable again.

It was three in the morning when you finally got through the pile of work. It wouldn’t have taken so long if you had saved the reminiscing for later when you felt the guilt begin to eat you alive.

As you tapped the stack of papers against the desk to get them together neatly, you felt the urge to apologize to Levi for putting him down earlier. He didn’t have to stay with you. He has his own room to sleep in, yet he decided to grace you with his company.

You realized you have a few hours left until you have to get ready for the day. Why not try to sleep?

Levi was sleeping soundly, soft snores coming from him. You smiled a little at the form of his pouty lips. “Levi, baby.” You whispered, reaching your left hand to push his bangs away from his eyes. His eyes fluttered open, silver-turned-blue irises glowing in the orange light of the candle. He gave you the softest smile you had ever seen and kissed your shoulder before straightening his posture.

“Let’s go to the room.” You murmured to him. “Are you done?” He asked in a raspy sleep-filled voice. “Yes. Let’s go to sleep.” You stood up from his lap. He groaned as he moved his legs, trying to get rid of the numbness. You extended your hand to him and helped him stand.

He held onto your hand as you crossed the doorway between your office and bedroom. You split ways as he went to one side of the bed and you other. While he laid down instantly, you sat with your head against the headboard and one knee up.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to sleep.” He mumbled with his eyes closed. “How would you know? You can’t even see me.” You raised an eyebrow. “I can’t feel you close enough to me, plus…” He patted around until he felt your leg bent at the knee. “…your leg shouldn’t be bent like this.” He grabbed your shin and slowly unbent your leg to match the other one.

“Take my form as an example of how you should be laying.” He opened his eyes, waiting for you to recline. You slowly lowered yourself, propping yourself on your elbows as your back neared the mattress. Levi brought your arm down so that you were flat against the bed, head meeting a pillow. You turned to Levi who was now closer. “I can’t promise you that i’ll be sleeping, but i’ll lay here with you.”

He rubbed his thumb slowly against your cheek. “That’s enough for me, beautiful. I’m just happy you’re here with me.” He slugged closer to you, his face nuzzling into your chest.

It was incredible how this man was able to make you feel things that no one else could. His heart slowed as he drifted to sleep, but yours was pounding. You hoped the sound or the feeling wouldn’t bother him. It was his fault, yet you felt guilty.

The bags under his eyes were visible in the light that peered through your windows. You brushed them as gently as possible, as if you could magically get rid of them. It’s been a rough life. Sleep is a luxury that you don’t think you deserve. If you could give your unused hours of sleep to him, you would.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, running your fingers through his locks of hair. You skimmed the short hairs of his undercut with your knuckles, you could tell he recently cut his hair. He always looked so handsome, sometimes you wondered if you were pretty enough for him. Insecurity was something that often creeped its way into your brain, but you aren’t the type to fish for compliments or make your lack of confidence obvious. If you were to be that way, you wouldn’t make it as a Captain. Having Levi reminds you of how fortunate you are to be alive. He is, and will always be enough for you.

—

Those hours you had went by too quickly. In what felt like a few minutes, it was six in the morning and the sun was beginning to rise. You had to start getting ready for the meeting that started at seven thirty. Your eyes felt heavy, which wasn’t a foreign feeling, but apart from that you felt alright. You slowly released yourself from Levi’s hold so that you could get your clothes for after your shower.

“Come back.” Levi whined, extending his arms in your direction. “We have to get ready for our meeting. I’m gonna shower, i’ll be out soon.” He pouted defeatedly and got out of bed.

You relaxed as the lukewarm water washed down your body. Was it the time to have your mental breakdown? Sadly, no. Not while Levi was outside.

You heard the door open and heard Levi say something indistinctly. “What was that?” You asked. “I said sorry for barging in. I need to fix my hair.” He repeated. You hummed in response. Levi, who was usually a great conversation starter, was dead silent. He was contemplating whether or not he should ask you if you’re okay.

“Hey, Y/N?” He rummaged through your drawers in search of a comb. “Hmm?” “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” You lathered your body with soap and replied with another hum. “Right?” He prompted. “Yes, I do.” You answered. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

The water cascaded down your body, bringing soapy water to the floor. “Not anything in particular.” He frowned, knowing that if you didn’t talk to him when he was around, you’d eventually be left to fight your inner demons alone.

His hair was done but he kept messing it up and combing it again just so that he could keep talking to you. “Please promise me that if you’re ever not okay, we’ll talk about it.” Your face went neutral, unable to pinpoint what made him talk this way suddenly. “I’m not gonna fall apart on you, Levi. Who am I to do so?” You rubbed a few bubbles of soap off of your collarbone under the stream then reached for the shampoo bottle. “You’re my everything. I need to know what’s going on inside that brain of yours.”

You distributed the runny substance to your scalp and mane of hair. The scalp massage you gave yourself was very much needed given the constant weight you felt on you shoulders. A minute later, the foamy texture was rinsed out and you turned the water off. You peeped your head out of the shower, hand reaching for the towel hanging on the steel bar. Levi looked at you from the corner of his eye, enticed by the sight of you being drenched. You got a hold of your towel and shut the shower curtains, missing the light blush that appeared on his face.

You wrapped the towel around your body and stepped out of the shower, not looking in Levi’s direction as you separated your jacket from the dirty clothes. “Do you want me to get out?” The rosy tint was there again. “No, it’s alright. I’ll change in the room.” You took your clothes and shut the door behind you. You dressed into another white button-up and tucked it into your white trousers.

A knock came from the bathroom door. “Can I come in? It’s hot in here.” Levi asked, voice muffled. You internally laughed evilly. “Yeah, I’m done.” The door clicked open and he instantly searched the room for you. You were putting your belt on. “I’m ready to go. Do you need help with your straps?” Please say yes. Please say yes. “Yes, please and thank you. I need to do my hair.” You went to the bathroom and grabbed your hairbrush before returning to your bed.

Levi was waiting on your bed with the leather bands that went around your chest and limbs. “Let’s start with your thighs.” He picked up the brown material. You sat on the bed, lifting a leg to allow him to slip the bands under. He wrapped the pieces of leather around your thighs gently, tightening them the appropriate amount needed and buckling them. This procedure was followed by a kiss applied to each area that was strapped, and a look up at you afterwards. You give him a small smile while you continue to brush your hair.

He finished with the straps that went on your legs, waiting for you to finish brushing your hair to do the ones for your arms and chest.

You put your hair into a ponytail and he immediately began slipping your arms through the leather loops. He buckled the strap that went slightly above your chest, intense eye contact from him while doing so. “What?” You asked curiously. “Oh, nothing.” He placed the awaited kiss and moved down to your abdomen to attach the last two straps to your belt. He placed the last kisses on your stomach, straightening from his slightly hunched position after.

“Thank you, Levi.” If you were more like him, you would make it more clear that you loved him. You would say that you loved him more often. They were his three favorite words coming from you because he knew that you found difficulty saying them, yet you managed to get them out for him. You’ve only said it to him three times before, the rest of the time you show him.

“It’s no bother at all. I wanted to give you some extra love as well because…I know something is off. I’m not gonna push you about it, but please talk to me about it when you can.” You nodded as you put your camel colored jacket on. “Are you ready to go?” You asked, mediocrely fixing your bed. You were going to come back to wash your entire set anyway. “Yeah, let’s go.”

—

It was seven twenty-five when you both got to the meeting room. Familiar faces surrounded you. You sat next to Erwin who sat at the head of the table. You’re his right hand woman, and he trusts you with his life to say the least. Levi sat to your left as your right hand man. He acted as your emotional support, mostly to keep you calm and collected when you thought something wasn’t right and were being misunderstood when you voiced your concerns.

Once the clock struck seven thirty, Erwin began the meeting. “Good morning, everyone. We’re gathered here to brainstorm a plan for our next expedition outside of the walls. Today we’ll be discussing squad reformations and routes that can help lower the amount of casualties and injuries in our battalion. Our next meeting will consist of looking over what we come up with today and confirming the actions we will be taking.” Your hands immediately clenched into fists when your heard ‘next expedition.’ We just went through with one two days ago. The number of casualties and injured soldiers is too high to go outside the walls again so soon.

Levi’s hand found your forearm and squeezed gently. With the amount of times your concerns have been shot down, you were just about done trying to object anything your Commander said in regards to exiting the walls. He was so strong headed and able to defend his methods that you often gave up trying to convince him that there were flaws in his thought processes. You relaxed your hands and sat through the rest of the meeting with your usual stoic expression. Your surface did not reflect the way you felt inside at all.

“Captain Y/N, what do you think of the plan we’ve arranged so far?” The blonde haired man asked, facing you. Should I go for it? Should I tell him what I think just to get shut down again? “It’s a good plan, I just have one concern.” He folded his hands and nodded in an understanding manner. Levi turned to pay attention to the conversation between you and Erwin. The officers were discussing ideas amongst themselves.

“I think it’s too soon to go outside the walls again. I was filling out the reports for the soldiers that died during the last expedition, and we lost a grand number of soldiers.” “Yes, you’re right about that. Our next expedition won’t be for a while though. I noticed the amount of soldiers that came back injured is just as large as those that died, so i’m giving them time to recuperate. The squad reformations we’ve made are just incase our wounded soldiers are not capable of joining us in our next expedition. If they aren’t physically well by the time our next expedition takes place, the squad reformations will be confirmed.”

He agrees? He agrees. “Oh, alright. Then we’re off to a great start with this plan.” He nodded and smiled with satisfaction.

The meeting ended in a little over an hour. Erwin dismissed everyone and made sure to praise you for your input before exiting the room to continue brainstorming alone.

“I’m proud of you, Captain!” Levi beamed a smile and pulled you into an embrace that you refused to reciprocate. The public display of affection had heat creeping to your cheeks even if there was no one in the room but you two. People were walking past the door constantly, and the thought of being seen like this was embarrassing to an extent. “Thank you, Levi. Let’s get out of here.”

—

Lunchtime finally arrived and usually you sat with Hange, Levi, and Erwin, but Hange and Erwin were both busy with their own things so it was just you and Levi. You weren’t hungry, the thought of your fallen comrades slowly beginning to bombard your thoughts again. It brought an unsettling feeling to your stomach.

“You should eat something.” Levi said, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not hungry. I think i’m gonna go to my office to finish some more work.” “Okay, i’ll go with you.” He said feeling overjoyed to spend more time alone with you. “You don’t have to. I’m just gonna be filling out more papers.” You rubbed the back of your neck. Levi’s clinginess was another reason you loved him. You like the idea of him wanting to be around you all the time, but it’s not a problem if he spends a day without you as well. You withstand the time apart better than he does.

“I want to, though. I like spending time with you even if i’m just watching you do work.” You looked at his teacup that was still three fourths of the way full. “At least finish your tea. You can meet me in my office once you’re done.” You rose from the bench looking at him as he set the porcelain cup down. “Fine, i’ll see you in a bit, Captain.” He stood up and gave you one of his perfect salutes. You nodded and left the table.

—

Throughout your years as a Scout, you’ve seen death left and right. You made it your mission to remain as closed off to others as you could to protect yourself from anymore heartache, but Levi managed to break into your heart by force. He just wouldn’t leave you alone, so you let your guard down for him, seeing the way he cared for you like you were his favorite person in the world. He dealt with your mood swings, he stayed after you pushed him away, and he understood your significance to the Scout Regiment and all the weight you bear solely. He understood that you being deemed humanity’s strongest soldier isn’t just a fancy title, it’s a heavy anchor that weighs on your shoulders.

You opened the door to your office, shutting it behind you before you went further into the room.

You went to your desk and sat down in the wooden chair. A sound came from underneath your boots, making you look down to inspect the area. You crouched down to pick up a paper that had fallen out of the stack of reports you had filled out. ‘Name:_____| Age: 15 yrs| Gender: Male…’ read the beginning of the description. The young boy, once so full of joy and life, was narrowed down to a sheet of paper with a pitiful explanation for why he will never be seen again. You sat on the floor underneath your desk reading the rest of the description. ‘Hair color: Black| Eye color: Hazel| Height: 5’6| Weight: 152 lbs…’

You felt the urge to cry, but tears wouldn’t form. The floor was not at all comfortable, but it brought comfort knowing that your lack of emotional stability wouldn’t be witnessed at first glance. You weren’t visible to anyone under your desk, so if you really wanted to break down, now would be your chance.

A knock came from the other side of your door. That was too quick, Levi. You didn’t answer, still deep in thought and overcome by treacherous feelings.

The door opened without your permission and you didn’t even care. “Y/N, are you in here?” Levi’s footsteps got further as he walked past your desk and into your bedroom. “Are you in here?” He opened the bathroom door, not seeing you in there. “Hmm.” He returned to the doorway between the two rooms. He noticed your boot as it leaned against the left leg of your chair. “There you are.” He traced your boot back to you.

“What are you doing down here? Are you okay?” He crouched down to meet with you at eye level. “Yeah, i’m fine. I just…forgot this…um…report.” You were visibly shaken and Levi wasn’t sure what the cause was. He took the paper from your loose grip and read the page quickly from top to bottom. “Talk.” He sat on the floor, something he wasn’t particularly fond of doing, but anything for you.

“I’m not doing this right now. There’s a time and a place for mourning the dead. Now is not that time, and this is definitely not the place.” You crawled out of the area and slowly got to your feet. Levi followed you as you strode to your bedroom. “When is it the time, then? Where is that place? I’ll take you there whenever.” His voice wasn’t as soft as it was when he first found you. You said you weren’t going to push it, Levi. You’re doing the exact opposite.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration filling him to the brim. “I just want you to talk to me! Confide in me! God, Y/N. It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m not just some stranger you’ve held close at night. I’m your lover.” You were on the brink of letting every emotion within you loose, bringing yourself back when you see how distressed Levi looks. You know it’s your fault he’s this way right now, but you made him a silent promise.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, holding your hands together tightly. “I’m not going to break in front of you.” You whispered. Levi kneeled down in front of you and held onto one of your shins. “I’m not leaving until you do.” His stormy gray eyes never left yours. “I don’t care if it takes hours. I’m not leaving until you spill your fucking heart out.”

Wherever you went, he just followed you. Working on paperwork? He watched you from the other side of your desk. How he didn’t get tired of watching you was beyond you. “I’m just trying to help.” You didn’t look up at him, continuing your writing. “I know you are.” You murmured. He reached for your vacant hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Then why aren’t you letting me?” Tears stung the inner corners of your eyes, threatening to break your facade. You blinked back the blurriness of your vision, prohibiting yourself from showing your true emotions.

“Maybe others can’t see through your stoic mask, but I’m close enough to notice the cracks in it.” And there it was…the first tear. You gripped your pen tighter, ink bleeding through the paper, but you continued writing messily. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips trembled, eyelashes being weighed down with teardrops. “I know it’s hard to bare yourself to me like this.” His eyes softened at the large tears that rolled down your cheeks, ending at your chin, before falling on the paper.

Your chest suddenly felt tight causing a hiccup to fall from your lips. You covered your eyes with both of your hands, tears still streaming underneath them. You felt humiliated at your show of weakness. “How are you gonna try to hide all those tears from me, sweetheart?” He pulled one of your hands down, revealing a closed eye, and a knitted eyebrow. You instantly crossed your arms on your desk and put your head down, tears pooling and leaving dark spots on your sleeves.

Levi hurried over to your side and kneeled beside you. “I know, baby. You need to get this out.” He rubbed your back slowly. The erratic shaking that started in your shoulders lured a sad reaction out of Levi. It was as if he felt every ounce of pain you were feeling. He wanted to cry with you, but stayed strong knowing there was no room for two meltdowns.

“He…was…fif…teen.” You spoke muffled with pauses between gasps. Levi kissed your shoulder. “I know. It’s awful. He was a pure soul and solid addition to the squad, but think about it, he’s not suffering in this disgusting world anymore and he’s no longer living in fear.” Your eyes felt even heavier now. You went silent as you tried to calm down. Your breathing was anything but steady.

When you managed to stabilize yourself, you took one last deep breath before picking your head up.

“Y-Yeah.” You cleared your throat and wiped at your puffy under eyes. “You’re right.” You said more steadily, finally able to face your inamorato.

He undid his ascot and gave it to you to dry your eyes with. “Thank you.” You said quietly, dabbing the cloth on your damp features. He nodded with a soft smile. “How do you feel?” His knuckles brushed your cheeks sweetly. The coldness of his skin felt nice in contrast to your warm, tear-stained face. “Fine.” It was the only word you thought could narrow down how you currently felt after your meltdown. You knew the storm was only passing temporarily, but you weren’t going to make a bigger spectacle than you already had.

“Come on, give me something more.” He turned his head and pointed to his cheek. “I feel better, love. Thank you.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, not expecting Levi to straighten his head at the last second. Lips met lips pleasantly, heat taking it’s place on your cheeks again. On the inside, he was laughing like a child at his spontaneous act, knowing he managed to fluster you. On the outside, he was enjoying the contact you allowed him to have with you.

Every time he kisses, hugs, or even just brushes his hand against yours, it brings back memories of the first time you let him rock you to sleep like you were a child. He knew before he even formally met you that you never slept because you walked around with the darkest bags under your pretty eyes. When you picked Levi to be on your squad, he made it his own personal mission to get you the sleep you deserved.

You pulled away from him, blush continuing to make you look like you were the subordinate in the relationship. “I’m glad you feel better. I’ll always be here to console you, Y/N. I hope you know that. I’m sorry I had to force your feelings out of you this time.” He smoothly brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to force me to talk about things. I’ll work on it.” He chuckled at the way you effortlessly made him happy. He was the only one to see your smile often, even if it was a small and short-lasting one.

“What do you want to do now? I’m pretty sure I recall you telling me that you finished all the work you had to do, earlier in the morning.” You stood up from the chair, pulling him up from his kneeled position as well. “Come on.” You took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

“Remember the first night we slept in the same bed? The first night you got me to sleep after you found out I hadn’t slept in a few days?” His eyes twinkled hoping you were thinking what he was thinking. “Mhm. What about it?” You let go of his hand and proceeded to your bed where you sat on the edge and took off your boots. “Can we do that again?” You threw your right boot in a corner next to the left boot.

He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. This was his favorite thing to do with you, having decided it after only doing it once. It beat every single thing you two did together. He got to watch you close your eyes and get the rest you desperately needed, yet ran from. He got to hold you close and listen to the rhythm of your breathing, and he got to kiss you as much as he wanted.

“Of course, my love. Anything for you.” He went to the opposite side of the bed and took his boots off, tossing them across the room to where your boots were. He got closer to the center of the bed with his back against the headboard and got into a comfortable position before patting his lap for you to lay across. You crawled to where he was, laying your head just above the crease of his arm and the rest of your body lay across his lap. You felt safe and secure in his arms.

“Who knew the Captain was such a softie for an ordinary soldier like me?” Levi cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes with his free hand. “Shut up.” You mumbled with your eyes closed. He chuckled lowly, the vibrations already working on lulling you to sleep. “Are you sure you want to sleep right now? It’s three in the afternoon. You might not be able to sleep at night.” “Mhm.” You hummed. “I don’t sleep at night anyway.” You reassured. “Alright, my dear.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and began swaying your body slowly. You concentrated on the motion and your heart rate started slowing down.

There was an immense adoration gleaming in Levi’s eyes as he watched you slowly drift to sleep. He kissed your forehead and stopped swaying when he felt your body go limp, chest rising and falling with every breath that escaped your lips.

A few moments later, there was a sudden knock on your door. Levi’s eyes widened, hoping whoever was at the door would leave immediately. Another three knocks came from the other side when there was no response, causing you to stir at the sound. Levi looked down at you, eyes completely soft. He hoped you would stay asleep through the unwelcome raps. Then the doorknob turned.

“Captain Y/N, are you in-” “Shut the fuck up.” Levi muttered through gritted teeth. He was never this aggressive with his words, but when it came to you, he could surprise anybody—even Hange and Erwin.

Eren’s eyes were wide at the sight. ‘Captain Y/N likes affection?’ Was all he thought. “Sorry, Levi.” He whispered. “Can you make sure Captain Y/N sees this when she wakes up?” The boy rubbed his neck as he waited for Levi to look up again. “Just leave it on her office table. Don’t touch anything. No, never mind. Just leave it on her dresser over there.” Levi watched Eren like a hawk as he located your dresser and set the paper down. “I’m heading out. See you later, Levi.” The boy exited the room, unsure of whether he should keep this to himself or tell his group of friends.

“Who was that?” You asked, feigning grogginess a few seconds later. Your survival instincts had you awake by the first knock, but you wanted Levi to feel good about the way he was taking care of you. “It was Eren. Go back to sleep, love. Your schedule is clear for today. You can sleep for the rest of today if you want to.” You nodded and nudged yourself into his chest. “Only a little longer. Wake me up in ten minutes, please.” He stroked your cheek lightly. “Okay, dear.” His expression returned to the loving one he had prior to Eren’s interruption.

You returned to your dormant state rather quickly and Levi didn’t plan on waking you up any time soon.

As time went by, Levi found himself having to hold in his chuckles as he saw drool sliding down the corners of your mouth. He was quick to wipe it away with his thumb, knowing how you’d react if you woke up with drool on your face.

He realized before, but now it was emphasized that nothing could ever stop him from loving you. Not your past, not the present, not the future. Nothing. He knew from the moment you told him you loved him back that he would love and care for you endlessly.

I will hold you like this for as long as you want me to, and as many times as you need me to, my love.

#aot #attack on titan #captain levi #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #fanfic #levi fic #levi x y/n #levi #levi aot

99 notes · View notes

cryinginthebackseat · 4 years ago

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3 part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual.

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are.

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another.

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous.

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed.

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus?

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her.

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.”

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers.

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway.

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat.

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will.

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head.

"How's your memory these days?"

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago.

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?”

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea.

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly.

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?"

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her."

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish.

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?"

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging.

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all.

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

“What else did you teach me?”

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face.

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work.

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him.

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her.

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing.

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her.

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair.

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still.

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?”

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm.

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist.

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face.

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt.

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds.

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that.

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun.

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad.

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone.

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once?

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?"

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so 👁👄👁

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

166 notes · View notes

anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Note

cardan pov ch 21 anon here— I totally wouldn't mind a long, steamy detailed one 😍

Ps - you're a sweetheart to even give the option 🤧

Yessss -- you are my kind of people. (I was actually hoping someone would want this! lol.) Gather around, my thirsty sinners. You asked for it - it’s His Monstrous Bride Part III. (This isn’t all that explicit -- I tried to make it pretty. :) )

(Also I didn’t do much editing - sorry. I need to get back to work. LOL.)

For reference, here’s His Monstrous Bride and His Monstrous Bride Part II and this little steamy Cardan POV drabble from The Wicked King and also this sappy thing.

------------------------------------

There’s no escaping it this time. Cardan is escorting Jude Duarte back to his bedroom, their bedroom, and there’s absolutely no escaping it. Every eye has been watching them all evening. Surely every conspiring mind has now been examining their relationship from afar for its weaknesses, and Jude must know this, too.

That has to be why she’s taking it this far, Cardan tells himself. She must want to keep up the ruse, a show of their marriage’s fortitude.

So, when the door closes behind them, his first plan is to take the secret passages to the Court of Shadows for the night – as he has every night since Jude returned. He’ll find a cot there and practice attempts at flipping coins through his fingers until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He’ll try not to think about Jude.

And one day, that will become habit. One day, it won’t be so bad.

Behind him, Jude sighs and sags against the doorframe. When he turns to look at her again, she almost hurts to look at. She is ravishing, draped in decadent gold that glitters like chain mail. If she is exhausted, she hasn’t looked it yet. Or maybe he hasn’t been paying close enough attention – the gown dips perilously low in the front, and it’s been practically impossible to keep his eyes from taking little trips there.

It’s that sight and more that pulls him back a step against his better judgment -- and then another.

“You were very formidable tonight, my queen,” he tells her. He likes calling her his queen. He likes even better the look she gets on her face when she hears it. She seems as little flushed when he steps nearer.

“After that speech you made, it didn’t take much,” she says, looking up at him with those big, warm brown eyes. When she looks at him with admiration like this, he thinks he might actually be something worth loving. Or at least, he will make himself so if it means Jude will always see him like this.

“It cannot be anything other than the truth,” he reminds her. “Or it never could have left my tongue.”

He’s spent many fantasies in his younger days dreaming up villainous soliloquies, but he finds now, looking down at Jude like this, so close and so soft, her eyes glittering, her pink lips parting, his mind drifts to poetry. He wishes he had better words to give her. He wishes he had the magic to make her understand what he feels.

If she could know, maybe then she could feel something in return…

But then, Jude says, her voice low, her cheeks flushing: “You didn’t come to bed last night.”

Cardan scrambles to hide his surprise. After slapping him in the royal rose garden, he’d felt fairly certain she wouldn’t want him anywhere near their bed. He must be misunderstanding…

“I’m here now,” he says.

How many times has he wished he could see into Jude’s mind? He’s lost count at this point. Is she angry with him? Is she plotting? Is she desiring him? He never knows. He can’t keep up. What’s important is that, right now, in this moment, she isn’t moving. She’s still gazing up at him, her eyes flitting over his mouth, and he’s so aware of her warmth. If one of them were to move, they could be touching.

He’s going to try. He must. He’s desperate for her.

Gingerly, carefully, he takes her hand, and she lets their fingers entwine again. She gazes up at him again, like an invitation. Her eyes are so clearly full of hope, with the tiniest quirk of a smile on her lips – and he’s done for. He gives in to the unseen pull that draws him to her lips.

He’s kissed her before, but this. Oh, this. When he’d tricked her into marrying him and traded kisses with her in the dark, it wasn’t even as good as this – and until this, that had been his favorite. In that moment, he’d felt like he was hers, and she his, and for a moment, everything was safe and right. He’d cursed the memory of that feeling while she was in exile, fearing he’d never again have anything so perfect – but here, he thinks he might have been wrong about that. He hopes he was wrong. It feels like she’s surrendering to his lips, arching into him, each kiss a request for another.

He never wants to stop. When she’s like this, he wants to kiss every soft bit of her she’ll let him. He touches fingers to her chin, leaving kisses across her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw. The sigh she lets out when he dips to kiss her neck sends a bolt of desire, hot and severe, all though his whole body.

“You looked like a knight in a story tonight,” he murmurs there. “Possibly a filthy story.”

She kicks him in the leg, but he feels her smile against his skin – he knew she’d love that. He takes her lips again – he would give anything, everything to keep making Jude smile.

Nothing’s slowing down, and he’s dizzy in this pull of heated desire and confusion – where is this going? What is she thinking? Surely, she’ll shove him off soon, like she did in the room behind the dais. But she’s staggering, too -- maybe just as dizzy -- and he presses her to the wall. The air leaves his body when she pulls at his shirt, sliding her fingertips up his back.

There’s no misreading that, right? She’s clearly into this. His tail seems to think so, the little traitor. It’s wrapped itself around her ankle, and the feel of her calf beneath it sends thrills up his spine. It’s so deliciously indecent – he’s losing his head. He wants so much more. His fingers push into her hair – her skin is hot under his hands. More.She wraps her arms over his shoulders, pulling him flush with her curves. More. He takes her in his arms, his hands at her hips, lifting her feet off the floor.

It’s then she draws in a tight breath. Freezes in his arms.

Of course. Of course. He sets her back down. He knew this was coming. This was too much. He’s too much. Now he’s overwhelmed her. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright – her chest (oh, gods, her chest) heaves like she’s been running.

“We need not--” he starts, and he’s out of breath, too. But Jude shakes her head.

“No, just give me a second,” she says, and bites her lip, and Cardan feels absolutely feverish. He wants to bite that lip.

Jude takes a step back. This may be his undoing. If this is going to end poorly, he may end up running off into the night, shrieking like a feral lunatic, never to be seen again.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, which is somehow not reassuring at all. Especially when she turns and fairly flees for the wardrobe.

Cardan is dumbstruck and breathless as he turns, looking wildly around the room for his own exit. What did he do? How did this happen? She seemed just as desperate for him seconds ago – what did he do? His palms are sweaty – was that it? Did his hands disgust her? He tries to dry them on his trousers, which are feeling a little uncomfortable and too tight. Oh, no – was that what she’d noticed? His – his…

Cardan closes his eyes. There’s going to be no coming back from this humiliation. (At least now his trousers are comfortable again.) It’s time to go feral. Time to join the cats of the wild that raised him. This is his destiny, he supposes.

There’s some rustling behind him from the wardrobe, and he knows it’s Jude returning. Probably to tell him it’s best if she finds her own rooms. He takes a deep breath and swallows to steel himself.

And then turns.

Jude.

Jude is – Jude is – Jude Duarte is completely naked.

Cardan makes some completely embarrassing sound in his shock. She is -- oh, gods – she is exquisite. He has always thought her the only real thing in a land of spirits, and she has never looked more real than she does now. That enticing curve of her ears is nothing compared to the full swell of her hips, the heaviness of her breasts, the formidable curve of every toned muscle. He feels more real just looking at her.

She’s biting that lip again, her eyes glittering with mirth.

“Come here.” He means to ask it, but he can’t help it. He must have more of this.

Her gaze smolders as she sashays to him. Then drops to her knees before him.

Is this a dream? It’s a very good one. Cardan really hopes he doesn’t wake up too soon.

“Is this what you imagined I’d be like,” Jude asks, her voice husky, “back in your rooms at Hollow Hall, when you thought of me and hated it? Is this how you pictured my eventual surrender?”

Cardan’s face burns. Admitting his darkest fantasies to Jude Duarte was not something he’d ever planned on doing. But she doesn’t seem to hate the truth of him – she may not love him, but there is clearly something she doesn’t mind so much.

“Yes,” he hears himself admit. He’ll take the gamble.

Jude presses a hand to his thigh. He wonders if she’ll notice the twitching in his pants.

“Then what did I do?” she murmurs.

This can’t be real. Can it? It’s not even been a week since she slapped him. And he’s not sure she won’t do it again if she knows the truly depraved things that once filled his prepubescent mind.

But she also might not…

“I imagine you telling me to do with you whatever I liked.” Another gamble. The truth hasn’t hurt him yet tonight.

Jude splutters out a laugh. Cardan smiles, nervously.

“Really?” She sounds incredulous.

“Along with some begging on your part. A little light groveling.” He cannot believe he’s doing this. He should be slapped. “My fantasies were rife with overweening ambition.”

And then Jude slides back to the cold stone floor, lying on her back before him, and his heart stops. He’s read that in novels before – about sights making the hero’s heart stop. He assumed it was an exaggeration – hyperbole. It is not. He’s not sure how he’s still alive.

“You may do with me whatever you like,” Jude says, extending her arms out to him. “Please oh please. All I want is you.”

She’s teasing him. He knows it. She thrives on trickery. Still. How can he not at least get a little closer? He must at least try…

He draws in a breath. Drops so that he is on all fours, hovering above her. Beneath him, her auburn hair splays out like a fan across the stones, and the hollow at the base of her slender throat darkens with each breath. She reaches her hands to his shoulders, holding him there. Holding, he notes – not pushing away.

He turns his head to kiss her wrist. Her pulse races beneath his lips – he’s not imagining it. He knows he’s not, and it’s then he’s starting to understand that this may not be a trick. Jude wants him. Jude Duarte wants him – even after learning the truths of his darkest imaginings. That is absurd.

That is…utterly glorious.

“Mock me all you like,” he murmurs and brushes back a lock of her hair, tenderly. “Whatever I imagined then, now it is I who would beg and grovel for a kind word from your lips.” Her lips part slightly in surprise – she is the very picture of his desires. “By you,” he says, “I am forever undone.”

And undone as he is, Cardan is helpless to his body’s call. He bends to kiss her again, and when he does, she slides her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her. When he arches against her naked body, he groans, aching with need. Somehow his shirt is undone – he’s not sure which one of them did it. Only that it’s got to go. He wants to feel every inch of her against him. If she’ll let him.

And just when he thinks he has her figured out --

“I’m not mocking,” Jude whispers against his ear.

That stops him.

He pulls back. It is absolutely unbelievable that she has not been teasing him. She truly wants him to do with her as he pleases? There is still so much about Jude Duarte he does not understand.

“We have lived in our armor for so long, you and I. And now I am not sure if either of us knows how to remove it,” he says.

“Is this another riddle?” Jude asks. “And if I answer it, will you go back to kissing me?”

Gods. He will never tire of the puzzle of Jude Duarte.

And now that she seems to be truly offering, truly wanting, he is further surprised to realize how drastically his own wants have changed. Every fantasy he had pales in comparison to witnessing Jude Duarte want him.

“If that’s what you want.” He moves to be at her side. He mentally kicks himself for not sounding more sure of himself. It’s just… she has hated him for so long. And she may not love him ever.

But wanting him. She does want him. That is enough. That is more than enough.

“I told you what I wanted,” Jude challenges. “For you to do with me whatever--”

“No,” he cuts her off. She doesn’t understand. “What you want.”

Show me you want me. He wants to witness the proof.

And she shows him. She straddles his body, and it is better than anything he could have imagined. She is statuesque – she is monumental. He is in awe below her.

“I want--” But she blushes and kisses him instead, her breasts pressed to his chest. She kisses him again and again.

This is what she wants.

Her hands are everywhere – his face, his chest, his stomach. Her fingers are sliding under his trousers.

This is what she wants.

His hands meet hers, and he lifts his hips just slightly to pull off his pants. He watches her face every second, watches for any sign that she’s changed her mind. But she keeps her gaze on his face the whole time – heated. Expectant.

This is what she wants.

He’s aching, wanting, dripping with desire. He holds his breath – she takes him in her hand as she brings them together in a careful slide.

This is what she wants.

She gasps, and he cups a hand to her soft cheek, the other a gentle anchor at her back while she moves slowly. She turns her head and bites his palm, sharp and fierce, a low sound in the back of her throat. It is agony and bliss all at once.

You are what she wants.

He hasn’t done much worthy in the short span of his never-ending life, but somewhere along the line, he must have done something right. He thinks this must be how lion tamers feel – no, better. Jude wants him. She is taking from him all that she wants, and he will give her everything he can. He’ll give her a map and a shovel to dig through the wreckage of his heart. He’ll let her keep any broken bit she likes.

His thoughts leave him completely as they move together as one toward their pleasure and its blissful pain. He knows only that she sighs his name against his skin, and it is the first time in these many long months that he’s actually felt like a king.

------------------

Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes,

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #cardan pov #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #qon chapter 21 #queen of nothing chapter 21 #jude x cardan #fic: his monstrous bride #fanfiction #tfota fanfiction

310 notes · View notes