#why do you have handless miss | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years ago

Text

Notice me.... talk to me.

Sometimes. You cursed your boyfriend's ego.

It just could be so incredibly difficult to just deal with him at some point...

No matter how exausted or just being proven wrong, Chisaki Kai stumped his foot down to just prove for those who doubted or even, with some sorta of courage, talked back to him how stupid and dumb they were. Because he was right. He knew what was best for him, whose he consider dear to his heart and even the world itself. It didn't matter if blood had to be sheed or people to get hurt. He got what he wanted as always would.

You weren't excluded from this harsh treatment either...

Kai and you rarely fight over something. The man absolutely hated arguments that included yelling or some sort of physical combat although it was necessary with some... imcopentent subbordinates of his.

Yet it didn't mean how cruel your boyfriend could be from only just using words. Especially when he had a problem on his bussiness with the Shie Hassaikai.

For your doom, today was one of those days...

"I'm sure if you just took a couple of hours even to just relax and forget about your goal for one minute you would be less tense." You tried to coach your boyfriend but he only glared at you like you were an arrogant child throwing a tantrum.

"And who are to demand things from me (Y/n)?" He spoke through gritted teeth, you could tell even if he was with a mask over his face.

"Im.. Im just trying to help." You murmured lowly, hurt evident on your features.

"Do I look like i need help from you? You cant even walk alone on a city without being glued to my arm on being guarded by the Shie Hassaikai workers." He spoke on a manner of fact tone before giving his back to you to walk back to his desk.

But you tried one less approach...

"Kai... please. I can't- I don't even recognise you anymore. Please just try to listen to me-" you tried to touch his shoulder only to gasp when his rough and covered hands grabbed onto your wrist harshly and roughly pinned you to the wall as he stared with a murder gaze down at you while tightening his grip on your wrist.

"I won't listen to you. And you know why?" He whispered with venom as he etightened even more his grip on you to the point where it actually started to hurt. "Because comparing me and to yourself dearest, you're just a clingly brat trying to distract me to your own enjoyment."

"K-Kai stop it It hu-" you whimpered and gasped in fear as he slammeed a fist on the side of your head.

"I wasn't done talking!" He roared in your face as tears started to form in your eyes " cant even listen and do something right now?!"

"Kai please-" you whimpered and your eyes widenes when you noticed his glove on the hand he was holding your pulsefading away.

His quirk.

He was about to use his quirk on you.

"Kai calm down-!" You cried and hives started to appear on his face.

"Now you want me to calm down after irritating me right you useless-"

"LET GO OF ME CHISAKI!" You screamed but at the shock of you using his surname and shouting... Chisaki did ended up using his quirk on you.

His eyes widened as you shouted and clench your bleeding handless arm. Shit... what had he done...?

He almost stuttered for you to calm down and when he tried to get close to you to fix you screamed again.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! STAY BACK!" ignoring your pleas he grabbed onto your arm as you trashed and screamed on his grasp as his eyes burned and finally fixing what he had done... physically at least.

Just when your hand was back you pushed yourself away from and falling on the ground as you stared up at him with wide fearfull eyes...

He felt so ridiculous and angered with himself at the sign of the one who trupy loved him staring back at him not like a man, but as a horrific monster...

"A-Angel I-" he crouched down and extended a hand towards your direction but soon returning it when you flinched at the montion. "... I'm.. (Y/n).. I.. I truly didn't want it-"

"Y-Yeah.." you whimperex while carefully getting up and maintaning a dostance from him "But you did..."

"(Y/n) wait just listen to-!" He stopped walking towards you as you rushed to the exit of his office, using his door as a shield.

"Kai not now..." you muttered and slammed the door shut. Leaving with the weight of guilt enough to bury him on the ground.

It pained him to hear the hurried footsteps and sobs fadind away and knowing he was the cause of it.

The day has been awful. He shoudl have listened to you and take a break... maybe then you would be by his side right now...

He walked like a deadman towards his room and sighed at the sign of the door closed before knocking. No one answered...

Allowing himself, he opened the door to spy that... you weren't there. Your pillow was the only thing missing and it let him with unknow pain on his chest as he closed the door.

He asked for Chrono and Mimic forbyour location ... but none of them opened their mouths. Those two were loyal to him but they also didn't want to see a quarrel in the night time. By the stain on Chrono's coat he could tell that you cried on him just minutes ago.

He frowned at the thought but couldn't just punish his friend for actually being a decent man... unlike him. After all, when was the last time he let you cry on his shoulder?

... when was the last time he actually gave you attention..?

He morned at his flaws before widening his eyes at seeing a covered lump on teh couch as his feet immediately dragged him.

He exhaled in relief at seing your sleeping face on there but immediately frowned at the sign of dried tears on it..

Crouching down by your side he frowned, carresing your cheek with his gloved thumb... but the mere touch was enough to rouse you from your sleep as you let out a scared yelp and scotted away... afraid of him.

That hurted more than that any punchs of miss treating he ever received on his life.

"I'm... Did I wake you?" He murmured before sitting on tge couch, legs spread as his arms rested on it.

You stared at him for a minute before averting your gaze from him to the floor as you hugged your legs closer to your chest.

"I... assume you're need some time still after what... happened." He frowned when you just blinked, a broken and saddened look on your (E/c)'s eyes as you carresed the wrist where he had injured.

"... I didn't wanted it. I never wanted this to happen." He admitted with a pain on his chest that it hurted even to talk... but your silence was killing him.

"Won't you say anything?" He looked at you with expectant eyes "Scream? Yell?... anything?"

You got up and faced away from him as he blinked.

"... I'm going to sleep in the guest's room."

"Sounds... fair." He sighed in despair as he watched you walk away and the distant sound of the door shutting.

Burring his face on his face he sighed. A headache coming along with the burn on his eyes.

What had he done..?

He tried many aproachs for 2 weeks. And nothing seemed to be changing anytime soon.

You didn't looked at his face and only answered him with one or two words if he was lucky enough. He couldn't even eat in peace without noticing you just made your plate and leave, with some excuse of cleaning up later.

That wasn't the problem...

When he tried flowers or even your favorite food you just declined with a shook of your head and gave the flowers to some epderly woman whoose aold them.

Why wont you accept it?

He heard rumors of the Hassaikai workers that they thought that you only didn't break up with him for fear of your life... or even that he wouldn't mind killing you just to find another.

What did you and them thought of him to say those things?

Ah. Of course.

A monster.

He aproached silently the living room where he found your reading. You soon casting him a glance before closing your novel and moving to get out.

"How long this will continue?" The words are harsh, but the tone of his voice was broken, pleading for you to just end this suffering.

You stopped right by his side, not spating him a glance as you furrowed your eyebrowss at the ground and clinging to your book.

"Will you leave?" He asked sorrowfully before you sighed.

"... if you ever lay a hand on me again. I will do worst than just leaving Chisaki." You spoke harsly and he actually felt fear with those words.

It was almost commical. Him, leader of the yakusa and with a dangerous quirk, fearing his quirkless girlfriend.

The day this happened conpleted one month....

He saw your messages.

Family and friends of yours didn't know he was a yakusa. But it was explicit on various texts that the only advice they were given you about the relationship was leaving him.

His heart actually clenched at it. Trembling hand holding the cellphone as hot drops of tears fell from his eyes.

He did fucked up...

The presents only increased. You felt good enough to eat again and even chattered more happipy around the precepts and with your therapist.

Everything was great... except for your current situation with your boyfriend.

You knew Kai had never the intention to use his quirk. Anger and exhaustion could inflect on someone's quirk and made them do mistakes they never meant to. But you were still avoiding him due to the trauma of having your hand literraly being overhauled and the hurtfull words he said.

That was the first time Chisaki took his anger out on you... yet you were still petulant about not giving any of your attention.

The only comfort you noticed he had was that you didn't flinched anymore when he moved or try it to get closer. Key word: try.

Of course you noticed he was deeply affected to it. To the point that even Rappa out of all people came to you to just ask to talk to him was alarming.

You were walking on the hallway before you made a confused sound at Chrono whoose whistle and mentioned with his fingers to make you come over where he was.

"What's the problem?" You asked and furrowed your eyebrows at seeing your suitcase on his other hand "why are you with my-?"

"Overhaul asked me to pick. He wanted to know if you would like to move." Your eyes widened at his words.

"Move? Is he kicking me out?"

"No." He shook his head before handling you a paper where it showed you all pictures of a luxury apartment "He just wants to know if you would be interested on living there instead."

"Huh..." you frowned at the paper before you lift your gaze at Chrono sighing and taking off his mask.

"He is tearing apart (Y/n)." You frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Kai is conplicated. We all know. But I swear to you i never saw him like that. During this three months, he only worked at his bedroom. Didn't eat. Didn't clean... you see what I mean?"

You frowned even more... was he just as much hurting as you were?

"He is torn. Basically... it just activated a past trauma of his what he did."

"Past trauma? What the-" you stopped when he patted your shoulder.

"Not important. So? You want to or not?"

"... not entirely but just a few things." You mourned on your decision as he nodded,putting his mask back and going into Chisaki's office.

"... i see. Take her there."

"Kai come on... you guys at least can talk to each other-"

"No Chronostasis." He froze at the broken tone of voice of hsi friend as he stared with a empty look at the window. "She deserves a place of her own. Living with me would only make her worst."

"What about you then?" He chuckled sadly before rolling his eyes to see Chrono.

"I am just simply living through what a monster deserve."

....

(A/n):phew! Just came back with a amgsty scenario! Let me know if you guys want a second part of it! It just got way too big for one post.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha villains #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha villains x reader #zuffer writings #my hands hurt but was worth it

211 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 5 years ago

Text

Obedience

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: D3 (roleplay) D9 (spanking) and 14 (face-fucking)

Summary: naughty girls, in his opinion, ought to be punished.

AN: so this is set in a Cedric lives AU (lol fuck canon) where you’re a married couple bc... why not be married to Cedric :) as per, gif creds to the owner

Warnings: smut, Dom/sub, the above prompts, swearing.

You sighed softly, trailing your hands up your inner thighs, hitching your skirt over your waist so that you could tease at the scrap of black lace covering your soaked cunt. You really ought not to be doing this, you think to yourself, but just imagining cedric’s face if he walked in on you, wearing your old school uniform, touching yourself up... it was definitely worth it. Sometimes you got bored of vanilla fucking- it almost seemed that since becoming husband and wife, your sex life got a little... dull.

This would definitely put an end to that.

“YN, have you seen my- fucking hell,” you moaned at the sound of his voice catching in his throat, fixing him with a stare, your hand still shoved down your knickers and your blouse open with your (house) tie hanging between your breasts.

“Seen your what, sir?” You asked innocently, teeth sinking into your plump lip as you caressed your clit. “Something the matter?”

Cedric’s eyes darkened. “Get your fingers off your cunt this instant,” he demanded, slowly stalking over to you. It had been ages since you played at horny head girl and he missed it, cock already twitching in his trousers. When you didn’t obey him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking your hand out of your knickers and dragging you up off the bed. He glared at your glistening fingers, eyes dark with lust as he looked at you. “All this just from touching yourself?” When you nodded, he shoved your fingers into your mouth. “Clean them off, slut,” he groaned, eyes raking up and down your body as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, tasting yourself. He nudged your robes so that they pooled at your feet, before gently caressing your tie. “You know... coming into my private chambers... touching yourself in your Professor’s bed... is worthy of a punishment, don’t you think?”

You pulled off his fingers, unable to keep the smirk from your lips. “Oh yes, sir!” You said, nodding eagerly as he assumed his role. “I remember my colours. Green, by the way,” you said quickly and he kissed your forehead.

“There’s a good girl. Now, how should I punish you... I could have you write lines... ‘I must not be a little whore’ ‘I must not fuck myself in my professor’s bed’... a thousand times over. You’re pouting,” he smirked.

“I don’t wanna write lines!” You whined, crossing your arms and pushing your breasts up. He stared for a moment, watching as your chest heaved and you rubbed your thighs together.

“No... judging by you trying to get yourself off handless, I don’t think you’d be able to focus of I had you writing lines,” he pushed you to the ground and arched his brow. “No... instead, I’m going to fuck your throat, seeing as you so love to act like a harlot... well, what’re you waiting for, Miss YLN?”

You moaned lowly. You were, of course, Mrs Diggory, but when he called you by your maiden name in times like these, it just made the whole thing more exciting, as if you really were caught frigging yourself in Professor Diggory’s private rooms...

Quickly, you unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers around his thighs, groaning at the sight of his throbbing cock. You made sure to stare up at him as you took him, inch by inch in your warm, wet mouth, relaxing your throat around him as you had so many times before. After a moment, you tapped his him, signalling that you were okay, and that the fun could begin.

Grunting, he gripped your hair, bucking his hips as your throat spasmed around him, each thrust knocking the back of your throat. You tried moaning, but the sound barely came out, your eyes rolling back as he used your throat, your hand slipping between your thighs to add to the delicious sensation of being filled...

He tugged your hair suddenly, yanking you off his cock, a trail of spit and pre cum staining your chin. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he growled. “Look at you, you slut, once again caught with your hands in your knickers. Do you like being treated like a whore, Miss YLN? Hmm? Do you like being used by your professor?” You moaned and nodded, whispering ‘yes’. He grabbed your cheeks in one hand, lowering his face to yours. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir!” You moaned, letting him push you over his lap.

“And I think you should be punished in a different way, Miss YLN, seeing as you seemed to enjoy having your throat fucked. I think we ought to keep your hands where I can see them. Out in front of you, holding the bed sheets, thank you very much. Spread those legs too, no need for hiding your cunt. I know how wet being treated like this makes you. Ten smacks should suffice, I think. You will count each one and thank me for it, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” You cried, spreading your legs and gripping the sheets like you had been told. Slowly, tenderly, almost gently, he rubbed your rump, cupping and squeezing your buttocks before the first hit landed with a loud smack, causing you to cry out. “One... thank you, sir!”

Cedric was enjoying this immensely. You could feel his cock throbbing against you as each hit landed, twitching when you thanked him. By the tenth hit, your arse was raw and reddened, your knees buckling slightly despite the support his strong thighs gave you. Tears poured down your face, contrary to your wetness pouring down your thighs... it seemed you rather enjoyed this punishment too. Cedric hummed, rubbing away the sting gently, before hoisting you up and sitting you on his lap, smirking as you whined at the feeling of his leg hair scratching your tender bottom. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face, moaning softly as your clit throbbed earnestly, begging to be touched.

“‘M sorry for being naughty,” you mumbled softly, kissing his shoulder gently.

“Shhh... it’s alright darling, I’m very proud of you. What colour are we, sweetheart?”

You were quiet for a moment before you moved to straddle him. “Green,” you said, smirking as you pushed him to lie on his back.

“Green, eh? Well then... you can show me just how sorry you really are,”

Tag list: @obsessedwithrandomthings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @axriel @hiddensapphic @samnblack @tinylumpiaa @in-slytherin-we-trust @thatoneasrastan @emmaloo21 @kyn-lyn54-blog @eleven-times-lively @summer-writes @sleepylunarwolf @holysantana

#cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #harry potter #imagine #harry potter imagine #request #smut #harry potter smut

1K notes · View notes

jojoimaginestories · 4 years ago

Text

My Dear (Dio Brando)

My Dear

Paring: Dio Brando (Part 1) x Fem!Reader Words: 6016 Warning: HELLA LONG FIC!!! Dio is nice I guess, He’s super nice to the reader, again, super long (I’m sorry), some language, a little bit yandere (not sure) Requested By: No one Synopsis: Dio has a friend he’s known since his younger days in London and sees her a few years later, romance ensues...

(A/n: I rewatched Part 1 recently and spent a couple days on this, but I just HAD to write it)

**Gif is not mine**

Your eyes bored into the tavern as you entered, wanting to grab a drink and food before returning home for the evening. You saw a blonde boy cleaning food off of his face and grinned.

“Dio,” You waved and approached him.

He looked up to see you and sighed. “(Y/n),” He muttered. “You’re dirty. Did you just come from working?”

You sat next to him. “Well yes! Chimneys don’t clean themselves!” You reached and wiped some mashed potato from his eyebrow. “You look like you got into another scuffle. Did ya win?”

He tilted his head. “You shouldn’t work so hard. You’ll end up handless, I’m sure. You’re clumsy.”

You frowned. “Never mind. Why even bother trying to get a response to my question? You’re going to say yes.”

He sighed again. “(Y/n), you cannot ignore this. I worry for you.”

You smiled. “Well, I just need to help my Papa get rich, and then I don’t have to work anymore.” You held up two fingers as a peace sign. “For now, I’ll clean chimneys.” He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped your cheek. You blinked as you saw black soot on it. You nodded slowly. “Oh! Right. Those nasty Thompsons never clean their chimneys on time.” You waved your hand around with a frown. “They’re bloody bastards that like making my work harder.”

“You need to watch your language, my dear.” He wiped your nose. “Or no man will want you. You’re a foul-mouthed girl.”

You shrugged. “I only need a man to give me what I ask for. When I’m rich Dio, I swear, I’ll buy a mansion and live there for eternity. No one will bother me.” You smirked. “Isn’t that what you also want? You want to be rich so you can stand at the top of the world?” You nodded. “Then you can do it. For me, I actually have to work hard to achieve that. You practically might have a chance after your father croaks.”

“Don’t speak of that bastard in front of me, (Y/n),” He hissed.

You retracted, turning your head to frown. “Apologies, Dio. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“…” He wiped your cheek again. “I’m just waiting for when he does die. You might jinx it.”

“Apologies, again.”

“Stop apologizing.” He tilted your head and made you face him. “You’re not wrong, are you? I didn’t deny your words.”

You slowly nodded. Your cheeks felt a bit warm. “You are correct in that matter, yes.”

He huffed. “Such a weird tone of words you use.” He pulled away. Your eyes darted away. “If I finally get out of here, you better change it by the time I visit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave your hand around.

He grabbed the gold coins in the table and got up. “I better go.” He fixed his shirt. He looked at you. He opened one of your hands and placed two gold coins inside. “Get yourself something to eat. You look thin.”

“I’m fine, Dio,” You gave him a smile.

He fought a blush on his cheeks. “Eat.” He walked out, causing you to watch his movements until he left through the doors.

8 years later, Dio was finishing up studies at school when he was leaving to return home for the day. Jonathan was waiting for him patiently. Him and Dio were about to exit when they heard loud voices around the corner.

“Give that back,” A feminine voice yelled.

“What’re you gonna do? Cry and beg?” “Look, she’s going to start crying!” “Go ahead and cry, Crybaby!”

They both looked over to see a woman in a (f/c) gown jumping up to reach a book in a much taller gentleman’s hand while his friends laugh behind him. The young woman was growing frustrated.

“Ugh! You lot are just a couple of piss monkeys!”

Dio blinked at the familiar term.

“Couple of piss monkeys they are,” (Y/n) frowned next to him as they walked on the street. “Teasing a lady. She just wants to live her life.”

“You need to watch your foul mouth. No man will marry you if you talk like that,” He muttered to her.

“I don’t need anyone! I just need to support my father!”

He walked over. “Dio,” Jonathan mumbled in confusion.

Dio stood behind the woman with a tired look. “I believe you gentlemen stole this woman’s book,” He asked.

They looked at him in fright. “D-D-D-D-!” “I-It’s…!” “It’s h-him!!” They dropped the book and ran away.

Dio sighed and grabbed the book. “Well, it most certainly is torn and messy. You will need a new one.” He placed the book in the woman’s hands.

She looked at it with a frown. “Thank you,” She mumbled.

“I think you called them ‘Piss monkeys’?”

She looked at him a glare. “Because they are.”

“I don’t think any man would want to marry a woman with a foul mouth.”

She scoffed and turned. She stuck her nose up, closing her eyes. “I can take care of myself! All I need to do is-.”

“Take care of your father and live in a mansion where you can live quietly? With no one bothering you?”

She blinked in confusion. She looked at him. “…” She stared at his features. Her eyes widened at the familiar birthmark on his ear. “Dio?”

He chuckled. “My dear, did you already forget about me?”

Your heart fluttered. You started to tear up. “Dio!” You hugged him, pressing your face into his chest.

“Still overly affectionate, aren’t you (Y/n)?”

You looked at him with a grin. “Still smart, aren’t you Dio?” You fought the heat on your cheeks as you blushed.

He rolled his eyes. “You certainly didn’t improve your grammar like I told you do.”

“I have so.” You pulled back. “I am more refined, indeed.” You pointed a finger up. “It’s only when I am upset that my tongue slips.”

“You’re ever hardly upset, if I recall?”

You nodded. “Yes.” You winked at him. “It seems you remember my little quips, Sir Brando.”

“Dio,” A call was made. You both looked to see Jonathan jogging over. “Are you alright, ma’am?” He looked over at you.

You grinned with a nod. “Yes, I am. Thank you for asking. I was saved, thankfully.”

“Don’t I always save you, my dear,” Dio asked you.

You pouted. “Not always, Dio. I can protect myself.”

“Mere words don’t settle in men. They would’ve pounced you if I hadn’t stepped in.”

You held up a finger. “My running strategy would’ve worked! I’ve practiced it in dresses!”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to get into trouble. Wouldn’t your father be upset?”

You looked at the ground. “…You are right. He would. And he already has a company to manage.”

“Is that how me made his fortune?”

You nodded. “Yes! After you left London, my father started making more money! We like a bit from here, but it is a vast land with a sea side to accompany it. Beautiful indeed.” You gave a sad look as you looked at the torn book in your hands. “It will be hard to explain to him how this book was torn from teasing men wanting to entice a reaction out of me… But that is a price I’m willing to take.” You looked at him. “Thank you again, Dio. I appreciate your help.”

“Is this a friend of yours, Dio,” Jonathan asked Dio.

“This is (Y/n) (L/n). My dear, this is Jonathan Joestar,” Dio hummed towards you.

You bowed your head in greeting. “It is nice to meet you,” You smiled. You looked at Dio. “I do hope to see you again, Dio. Maybe for lunch?”

He nodded his head and bowed. “Of course, Lady (L/n).”

You curtsied. “Thank you, Sir Brando.” You giggled, standing up straight. “I knew you would always grow into a smart individual. You are as cunning as you are charming.”

He stood up straight, fighting a blush on his cheeks. “…(Y/n), I’m curious. You’ve never been one to read, so what were you reading in that book of yours?”

“Oh?” You looked at the torn book again. “Romeo and Juliet, by Shakespeare. I love reading his plays. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was adorable, and I loved Much Ado About Nothing. I’ve even read his tragedies of Julius Caesar and Macbeth. I personally loved Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I see. Well, you should best get on home. And don’t cause trouble for yourself.”

You waved your hand around. “I will not! I am a good honest woman, Dio. I wish to not make any more disturbances of the day.” You smiled at him. “I’ll see you another time?”

“Of course.”

You were sitting in your mansion’s reading room with the fresh play of Hamlet in your hands when a servant approached you quietly.

“Miss (Y/n). There is a visitor. Your father has instructed me to take you downstairs at once.”

You closed Hamlet and stood. “Thank you,” You bowed your head and followed after. You walked downstairs to look at the front entrance and see your father talking to a tall gentleman who you recognized to be Dio. Your heart fluttered. “Father,” You called.

He looked at you. “Ah! My sweet (Y/n),” He smiled.

You walked towards him. “You asked for me?”

“Yes, this young lad would like to take you out,” He motioned towards Dio. “Although he is familiar to me.”

“Father! This is Dio Brando!”

“Dio Brando?” He looked at him. “Goodness, my boy! You’ve grown! Now, I am at ease. Please, keep (Y/n) out of trouble for me, would you?”

“Of course, Mr. (L/n),” Dio nodded. He turned to you. “You mentioned lunch?”

You nodded. “Of course!” A servant handed you a light coat and your purse. “Thank you.”

Dio offered his hand to you as you two left your home. You walked next to him with the bright sun warming onto the both of you.

“Dio, where are you taking me?” You looked up at him with a smile.

“That is a secret my dear,” He hummed. I saw a bench with a basket on it. “I believe it’s called a ‘picnic’.”

“A picnic. You were never one for nature, Dio. I believe you had a clear disliking of it.”

“Yes, but it’s actually nice out here for once. And clearly, we need to catch up.” My eyes lit up as I sat next to him. “So, my dear, how did your father acquire fortune?”

The rest of the day with Dio was more pleasant than other days you’ve had. You laughed, you talked, you gazed towards the fields in front of you, like time forever had stopped while you two sat next to each other. But, before long, you were required to return home. You looked at Dio with a smile as you stood in front of your mansion’s door.

“I had so much fun today, Dio,” You told him.

“Of course, you would. I’m here.”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Don’t get cocky there. It’s good to be modest, you know?”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think I’m fairly modest, my dear Dio. You should be too.”

He chuckled before he reached behind him and handed something to you. “Open it.”

You blinked in confusion as you tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a brand-new Romeo and Juliet book. Your eyes widened. You looked at him. “Dio…”

“You never were a reader, so I knew it was precious to you. I believe you do not know the ending?”

You shook your head. “I’m almost done with it, though.”

“Good.” He waved a finger around. “I’m a personal fan of Othello, if I do say so myself. So, reading Romeo and Juliet was not that unfamiliar, but it certainly is an interesting read.”

Your eyes lit up as you hugged the book to your chest. “Thank you!”

He smiled softly. “Just read it. You can tell me about it the next time I see you.”

You nodded eagerly. “Of course. Thank you so much.” You smiled, despite the blush you had on. You entered your home and closed the door after bidding Dio a farewell.

Is it me… or is Dio more charming than I remember? You thought quietly. He seems to have grown in his looks. He’s devilishly handsome… You scoffed. As if he would fall for some shroo like me.

You placed a hand on your cheek, holding the book close to your chest. “Certainly, there is something about you, Dio Brando, that is absolutely devilishly charming. Maybe it’s your cunning wits, and possibly your crafty words. Regardless, I, (Y/n) (L/n), am no match for your charms. You surely have bigger plans in life that I am no longer a part of. Maybe I was never a part of it to begin with. That, however, is fine with me.”

You were reading quietly on a bench outside since it felt like a nice day. You were growing quite tired from the events that had happened earlier today and the day before with your father, thus you resulted in finding yourself “me” time. You felt a tap on your shoulder. You tilted my head to look and see no one. You frowned.

“Nothing’s here. Maybe a leaf brushed against my shoulder,” You mumbled and returned to your book.

“On the contrary dear,” You heard next to you, causing you to jump and flinch.

You snapped your head to see Dio giving you an amused look. You sighed with relief. “You scared me,” You nudged him.

He chuckled. “Did you forget my voice for a second there?”

“I did, yes.” You closed your book. “I’ve been preoccupied as of late.” You looked forward.

“I can see it on your face. You look fatigued.”

You tiredly nodded. “I had met with a lot of suitors today. My father wants me to get married,” You hummed.

“Well, that certainly won’t do with my plans.”

“Plans?” You gave him a confused look. “You have plans for me?” You gave him an amused look as your heart fluttered. A blush crept onto your cheeks.

“Well yes. Naturally.” He looked forward. “I care about you a great deal, (Y/n). Or have you forgotten that?”

You slowly shook your head. You looked at the sky. “No, but you certainly have different plans set from me. Bigger plans larger than life itself, and I am no piece of it.” You shut your eyes. “That much, I understand. You want to be at the top of the world. And I do not blame you for that. But certainly, you cannot falter your plans just because of one person.” You paused. You sighed. “In fact, you better not falter your plans because of one person. You have your goals, and you better accomplish them.” You opened your eyes.

He didn’t say anything. He stood and looked at you. “I just remembered I had something to do.”

You nodded. Your heart dropped. “Alright. I best be seeing you then.” You stood. “I have more suitors to see, and more than likely all of them to decline.” You clenched your book in your hands. “…I’ll see you Dio.” You walked away from him. You felt tears sting your eyes and sighed. “…Oh, you pathetic soul (Y/n).”

How can you tell Dio you love him when clearly you have just reentered his life? He has more important plans than being with you. You thought harshly.

You sipped on your tea while enjoying the soft breeze outside while you sat under an umbrella at a table in the gardens your mansion had out back. You crossed your legs under your chair, staring at the floral book you had in front of you. You heard the crunch of feet hitting the grass approaching you as you looked up.

“My lady, your father requests you. A new suitor and his father have arrived,” A servant bowed to you. “They will be waiting in the den.”

You sighed and set your tea down. “I assume I will have to get this over with,” You murmured, standing up.

“I believe this will be a good one, ma’am.” She looked at you.

You shot her a look. “Doubtful. One was too crude, one was boring, one was too annoying. The list goes on and on. I believe this is number… 15?”

“16 ma’am.”

“Thank you.” You held up your book. “May you please return this to our library?”

“Of course.” She took the book from your hands. “And your tea, ma’am?”

“Yes, this as well. Thank you again,” You nodded.

“Believe me ma’am. The Master said that this will be a good one you will like.”

You shook your head. “And he tends to be wrong sometimes.” You sighed. “But we will see. I am also wrong sometimes as well. Too doubtful in situations.” You waved your hand around. “Ah, I’m rambling. Do not mind me. You are dismissed.”

You walked away and headed inside. You walked towards the den slowly before pausing and shutting your eyes.

It is only a few hours, (Y/n), then you can return to reading. That’s all you have to do. You thought to yourself. You took a deep breath, reopened your eyes, and walked towards the den. You entered quietly.

“I’m here Father,” You hummed.

“Ah! My sweet (Y/n)! Please sit,” Your Father motioned over. “Actually, wait! Close your eyes.”

You paused and did as you were told. You sighed at the childish antic your father put up. “We are in front of guests father. I highly doubt your surprises are appropriate.”

“These guests are familiar with me, I assure you.” That didn’t sound good to you. He grabbed your arm gently and guided you to sit down on one of the couches. You shifted slightly. “What were you doing dear while I have been talking?”

“Reading in the garden, Father. I was reading the book on flowers from the library. It was actually quite magnificent and informational, believe it or not. It was very descriptive, even had examples that I could identify.”

“Good! Good, good. I’m glad you enjoy reading.” He was speaking across from you. “She loves reading the books in the library. She’s a knowledgeable individual.”

“May I open my eyes now Father?”

“Of course, my dear! And do be mindful of our guests. I’m sure they will have questions.” You opened your eyes and blinked at the lighting. You saw a blue haired older gentleman sitting next to your father. “Also, remember to greet yourself my sweet!”

You bowed your head. “Nice to meet you, sir. My name is (Y/n) (L/n).”

The man chuckled. “I’m quite aware. I’ve heard of you often,” He hummed.

You blinked. “You have?”

“Yes. My name is George Joestar. My son talks about you often.”

You turned your head slightly to the individual next to you, shocked to see Dio in your presence. You blinked. “He does, does he?” You narrowed your eyes. “Good things I hope?”

“Why would I say anything bad about you,” Dio asked.

You gave him a look. “Because you like to tease me.”

He chuckled. “You are easy to tease, my dear.”

Why is Dio here? What business does he have with-? Could it be? You thought with shock. “I am not. You catch me off guard.”

“I’m more interested in this book you were reading.”

“Ah, yes! I was interested in the flowers and bushes in our garden, so I grabbed a simple floral book that described flowers and little quips they each had. Interesting really, although I wouldn’t necessarily commit to botany, it is just useful knowledge to know.”

“Of course, I understand.” He chuckled. “It’s hard to believe you would like flowers. I believe you regarded them as, let’s say, frilly?”

You pouted. “Well, they are. I am more interested in cooking and decor than floral arrangements. As you can tell with the rest of our home, I’ve chosen some quite good pieces.”

“That I can see. Your father has… particular tastes.”

“Indeed, he does.” You didn’t notice your father and Mr. Joestar take their exit as you continued talking. “I tried to arrange this room, but he wouldn’t let me. At least he doesn’t pick terrible flowers.”

Dio leaned on his hand as he stared at you. “I’m sure you have a professional’s opinion.”

You scoffed. “Please, I just pay attention to the issues released of home décor. Descriptors and images of the pieces are good for me to identify what is alright and what needs work. There is a style you must go for in a home.” You felt so comfortable. You felt like you could talk for hours.

“I wouldn’t know my dear. I have other studies that I am pursuing.”

You tilted your head. “…I thought you had other plans?”

“You are a part of my plans, my dear.”

You tilted your head. “You now included me in them?”

“You were there to begin with.” You stared in shock. He sat up straight. “Oh, from the moment we met, you were someone I would never get tired of, like the others. You were less of an eyesore. And I will admit it again, I do care a great deal about you.” He tilted his head. “If another man got ahold of you, that would split my focus. It’s better to have you in my sight than out of it.”

“So, you want to watch over me?”

“I believe this is what we call… ‘being protective’?” He leaned towards you. “If another man had his way with you, I might’ve torn him limb from limb.” He was very close.

“That sounds more like jealousy, Dio.”

“I call it being protective.” He tilted your chin up. “As long as I am around, not a finger shall be placed on your head.”

“You are placing a finger on my head right now. On my chin actually.”

He huffed. “No one but me shall be allowed to touch you.”

“Oh? So, you are my suitor?”

He gave me a look. “From the moment I walked in here, I knew you wouldn’t refuse. I’ve caught your glances my dear. I’m not that thoughtless.” Your cheeks felt warm as you froze. “You thought I didn’t notice? Your blushes and gazes, your breaths. I bet your heart flutters too.”

“You are very observant,” You mumbled breathlessly.

“No, I just know you.” He kissed your head gently. “And as long as I know that, my plans will never faulter.” Your heart fluttered. You leaned towards him and rested your head on his chest. “…You are the reason I imagine my perfect life the way I do, you know?”

“I am?” Your voice was quiet, almost unheard, but you were close to Dio for him to tell.

He twirled some of your hair with his finger. “Why yes. Although, your brash tone of voice was one thing to handle, you clearly don’t do anything to outwardly annoy me. In fact, you do everything in your power to make me comfortable. And that is something no one else can give me.” He tucked some hair behind your ear. “That is why no one will marry you. Because I will.”

You smiled. “So, you said those words many times to throw me off guard?”

“Oh yes. You are mine. And no one else’s.”

You tilted your head as your father held up two dresses with a grin. You made a face. “For a marketer, you have no fashion sense either,” You hummed.

He pouted. “I just wanted to do something for you! You’re so independent,” He pouted.

You tilted your head. “That’s because I always have been. From an early age to now. I’ve always been an independent child.” You smiled. “I cleaned chimneys. I’m used to doing everything by myself. Cleaning, cooking, eating.” You giggled. “You forgot that, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “I can’t believe you grew up before my very eyes. And now you’re getting married!” He had flowers and sparkles surrounding him as he swayed. “My baby girl is getting married~!!”

You sweat dropped. “F-Father… It shouldn’t be this big of a deal…” You waved your hand. “I think this was to be expected? Since you’ve been signing suitors to me nonstop.”

He tilted his head. “Oh, that? I wanted you to have that idea!” You blinked. “Although, this was very quick. I expected there to be hundreds of suitors! But as soon as you told Dio, he just came and that was that.” He waved a finger around. “I always knew that boy had caught your eye! Something about him told me that.”

You blushed. “Oh Father…” You looked at your hands. “I’m still surprised he even considered me in that way.”

“How so?”

You giggled. “Father, every man you have introduced me to has not known one fact about me that Dio does.” You tilted your head slightly. “We used to be poor. We almost lost our home in London, and I worked on chimneys.” You smiled. “Dio knew that. He knew that fact, and it’s embarrassing to admit to people I know what hard work is, but Dio? No. He doesn’t care.” You looked at him. “He’s looked past that, and I’m sure most men would be stuck at the door if they heard that.”

He smiled. “…That’s love, dearie. That is love.”

You blinked in shock as a policeman approached you and explained the events of a few nights before. He held up a burned pocket watch to you, which was very familiar. Tears stung in your eyes while you held the pocket watch to your chest. Your father had burned along with others in the Joestar mansion, and your husband was nowhere to be found. Your brother-in-law survived with a countless number of wounds, and you sent word to him to wish him well.

It was late at night. You now sat in your large mansion alone, staring at the pocket watch that rested on the table while you covered yourself in a blanket your father had picked for you. It was ugly, yes, but he wanted to give you something for your new home. You sniffled, holding tears back whereas you recounted memories of the past. You heard the doors open from the front of the mansion, echoing its sounds through the quiet corridors. Your eyes widen as you grabbed a spear used for the fireplace you sat in front of.

You hesitantly inch into the halls, slowly creeping onto the intruder that would dare break into your house while you grieve. You felt a presence behind you as you snapped around to swing. Your actions were stopped. Your eyes widen even more and you shook violently. You looked up to see flaming orange eyes stare at you.

“My dear, why are you awake at this hour,” A cool voice asked, welcoming and warming to you. You could feel your tears return. The moon light outside revealed Dio while he stood before you. He stared at your crumbled figure as you let the spike go into his hand.

“D-Dio,” You sniffled. “M-My father… My father,” Your voice cracked.

“I heard as I was on my way back. I was delayed, and for that, I’m sorry.” You sobbed into your hands, wiping your tears violently. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“I was sitting in front of the fire. They recovered his pocket watch, and I was…” You wiped your eyes again. “I’m so emotional, I’m-.”

“It’s okay… Why don’t you grab it and head onto bed, my dear? I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” He tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

As you laid in bed, Dio recounted the event that happened a few nights ago when he discarded his humanity.

“You bastard,” Your father hissed next to Mr. Joestar and Jonathan. “You used my daughter, didn’t you?! To make you less suspicious.”

Dio gave him a hard glare. “Don’t bring her into this,” He muttered.

“You’re using her! For what? What are you using my daughter for?! Because we know she means nothing to you-!”

“She means EVERYTHING to me,” Dio snapped. The party froze in shock. “Your daughter is an angel by my eyes. A saint sent from the heavens. She is my guide for my vision, my plans for my future. She has nothing to do with what goes on here. I will protect her until my dying breath, unlike you, old man.” He pointed towards him and narrowed his eyes. “No one will harm a hair on her head. And if they do, they’ll see the might of my hand.”

He tucked some hair behind your ear. Even though your father wouldn’t have believed him, he meant every word. At first, when he met you, he didn’t expect to be attracted to you so quickly. In fact, he expected quite the opposite. Your language was quite vulgar, and your dirtied appearance rather made you repulsive in the eyes of many. You were poor, and that’s what was expected.

But, the more he saw you, he learned you actually were not as brainless as you looked. You were a hard worker, like he was, and you just wanted to live an easy life. Somehow, with that, he expected you to be someone close to him that he could confide in. That soon turned into him wanting you to be his right-hand. But he didn’t expect to grow feelings for you. From then on, he expected you to be his wife. He just had to have the pieces fall in place.

Now here you were. Him, now having discarded his humanity, and you, who he refused to impurify with his meticulous methods. He refused to let this known to you, at least not yet. He may never admit it to you. He can easily lie about his changes, he can lie about his followers, all he didn’t want to do was harm you.

You walked towards the hospital and knocked on the door to see Jonathan in his bed, resting nicely. “Jojo, how are you,” You smiled.

His eyes lit up as the blonde woman next to him turned to see you. “(Y/n),” He mumbled.

“I wanted to check on your injuries.” You looked at the woman. “Did you take care of him? I must thank you. I’m (Y/n) Brando, Jonathan’s sister-in-law.”

“(Y/n), are you well? After what’s happened…” Jonathan made a face.

You held up a hand. “I’m… managing. Dio has certainly helped quite a bit.”

His eyes grew dark. “Dio was the reason it happened!”

You blinked in shock. “What do you mean? He told me he was out on business.”

“Dio is evil, (Y/n)! And he won’t stop until he destroys everything he’s ever touched.” He stood and looked at you. “I worry for your safety. He’s a scheming man.”

You frowned and looked at the ground. You tucked some loose hair behind your ear. “I’ve known Dio for a long time, Jojo. I’m certain that if he was scheming, then he would have told me. He’s not evil.” You looked at him. You pursed your lips together before sighing. “I wish you a successful recovery.” You cleared your throat. “I have to go and plan my father’s funeral,” You lied. “Good day” You left without another word as you started thinking to yourself.

Dio… is evil? Why would he be evil? You thought. He certainly can’t be… No… I’ll ask him. I can just ask Dio and he won’t lie to me.

You stepped into Dio’s office in your home as he sat comfortably in a chair reading. He tilted his head to stare at you. It was starting to click in your mind that he started working more often in the night than in the day. He said it was because of business, but you were starting to think differently.

“My dear, where have you been? You left quite early this morning,” He hummed.

“I went to see Jonathan,” You quietly murmured and shut the door behind you. His face hardened at the sound of the pesky Joestar’s name. “He… was not happy with you.” He huffed, looking at the book in his hands. “…He said you were evil, that you were scheming. You wouldn’t stop until you destroy everything you touched.” He paused. His eyes snapped up. “But I thought that was a lie…” You looked at him. “And you’ve… changed,” You frowned. “You’ve been more awake in the night, you’ve been doing more things, you’ve talked to a lot of people. Different servants come in and out of here… What’s happening Dio? And you truly planning something evil without telling me?”

He froze. Finally, his plans were being seen in the light, and you were no dumb girl either. Another reason he fell for you was your smarts. You were not stupid and he saw right through that. He swallowed as he stood. “Why of course not! Why, I want to make sure we’re taken care of, YOU are taken care of, while I conduct business. It is quite important to me that you are taken care of.” He stalked over towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “You are my wife, and your happiness is mine.”

…He gets very wordy when he lies, You thought. You made a dissatisfied face.

“What’s wrong my dear?” He went to touch your cheek when you grabbed his hand, much to his surprise.

“…Why did you lie?” He blinked. “You get wordy when you lie. Especially just now… Why did you just lie to me?” He swallowed. You let his hand go. You turned around. “I’m leaving then.” You glared. “Don’t follow me.” You went to open the door when he used his hand to stop it from opening. Your eyes widened as you felt hot breath at your neck.

“I would never lie to you my dear,” Dio spoke smoothly, rubbing your shoulder. “You are my most important piece. My Queen. I do everything to insure you are happy. If I have left you unhappy, then you can kill me. Because a world without you is a world I would not want to live in.”

False, he thought. A world without you is a boring world. You light his eyes and ignite a fire. He refuses to part with that fire.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and look at the ground. “I highly disbelieve that. Why would my presence be important to your goals?”

He blinked. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. His eyes stared into yours. “You are my drive to live. I have said this countless times to many people. You mean everything to me, and I mean everything.”

Your heart melted but your head thought differently. You looked away from him. “Stop lying to me.”

His hands ran down your arms as he pulled you to his chest. “I only lie to those who are worth lying to. Why would it be worthy to lie to the woman I cherish the most?” He kissed your head. “If someone tells you something different, then they can answer to me.” He turned you around and cupped your cheeks. “Never leave my side, (Y/n). You are my vision, my guide. I do not want to lose my guide on this dark path I have taken.” He tilted your head up a bit. “I only want to achieve our dreams. My perfect world for you and I. A perfect world where you can live in peace, and I can rise in my glory.”

You grabbed his hands. “Dio, not like this,” You shook your head. “Why can’t it be different?”

“Because it has to be done.” He kissed you softly. “I’m sorry.”

Tears laced your eyes. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.”

“…You have my word.”

But that word would be shattered as he would burn from Jonathan Joestar’s might, and you would die with a broken heart.

#jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure #dio brando x reader #dio part 1 x reader #dio imagine #dio part 1 imagine #jojo’s bizarre adventure phantom blood

145 notes · View notes

inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful Angel of Darkness (7/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Y/N is starting to improve and live by Angel’s lifestyle. Then, someone pays her a visit.

Masterlist

Six months later...

Who would've thought working at the law firm as one of Angel's team members would be so fulfilling? Granted, it took a moment to get settled... more like a month. There was a withdrawal period, not pretty. Angel sort of locked me away in his basement for a few weeks. After that, I bounced right back and started fresh! Now, I'm Angel's assistant, much better than Harmony. I gave her the boot as soon as I got released from the basement cell.

I step off the elevator to Wolfman & Hart with Angel's usual blood bag in a cup and my iced coffee. I drink my blood bag on the way here.

I set everything down at my desk in front of the firm's sign. The normalcy of having a daily routine again is nice. When I was with Spike, I thought normalcy would bore me to death. I guess Angel was right, there is some humanity left in me.

I knock on Angel's office door, blood cup in hand. When he announces for me to enter, I greet him warmly and immediately get into the day's agenda.

"Morning Boss, we have a busy day ahead of us!"

As per usual, he wears a crossed expression as he stands behind his desk shuffling through some papers.

He sighs in frustration, "Y/N, have you seen the-"

I place his mock coffee cup in his hand so I can grab the case file from under my arm. He glances between me and the file in amazement.

"You left it on my desk when you were leaving last night," I explain with a light chuckle.

"You're a lifesaver," he thanks as he eases down in his chair.

"It's what I'm here for," I shrug and lean against his desk beside him.

"Sorry for keeping you here late this week. I'm sure you much rather be home," he apologizes as he reviews the contents of the case. "I just... I don't know how to go about this."

"Maybe a fresh pair of eyes?" I suggest, reaching for the file.

Angel hesitates to hand it over. He doesn't like me working directly on cases. He believes I'm not ready for the gruesomeness of them and that the blood may trigger me to regress.

"Angel, I'll be fine!" I assure him confidently.

Reluctantly, he hands over the papers and I begin to skim the crime scene photographs. The police are involved, believing it to be a violent murder. However, Angel and the others are pinning it with a series of animal attacks the last few days. They suspect a werewolf. Angel wasn't wrong, these images are rather unsettling, but nothing I can't handle.

"Based on the slashes on the neck, I would agree with you and say it's not cut wounds. There are no signs of forced entry either," I analyze.

"But all of the damage..." He debates.

"It's from the attack. If you were being attacked by a werewolf, you'd toss a lamp and vase at it, wouldn't you?" I reason. "The front door is in perfect condition, except for the blood, of course. I suspect the victim knew their attacker," I determine and hand the file back to Angel.

He leans back in his chair, deep in thought. Humming, he considers my predictions. "That would certainly narrow down the suspect list."

"Was she single?" I question.

He frowns in confusion, "I think so, why?"

"Check her calendar, see who her latest date was with," I suggest as I rise from my leaning position against his desk.

"You got all of that from looking at one photo?" Angel remarks in astonishment.

I glance over my shoulder as I head toward the door. "Told you shouldn't let me help sooner," I wink.

_____________________________________

At noon sharp, Angel likes his second cup of O Neg. It sounds tedious, knowing exactly when my boss likes his blood. If someone told me months ago that I would be fetching Angel everything he needs, I would've killed them. Ironically, I've never felt never more human than when I'm at Wolfman & Hart. I feel like I have a life of my own, my existence. Before...Before Spike, I belonged to my family. Then, I belonged to Spike. Now, I belong to myself. Granted, Angel watches me like a hawk, but he's easing up.

Angel and the others hold a team meeting at the same time I'm supposed to deliver his refreshment. More and more lately, Angel lets me sit in on the meeting. It's usually so that I can act as a scribe while they talk, but I still appreciate the invite.

Carrying my files, notepad, and Angel's drink, I back into his office door as I'm handless at the moment. Right when the door gives, I immediately announce his dinner plans with a major banker to discuss his Greed Demon issue. "Don't forget tonight, the meeting with Stuart Lawrence! You have to be at his residence in Brentwood at seven o'clock sharp and-"

I stop dead in my tracks as my eyes flicker toward Angel's desk. Instead of just seeing Angel stressing over some papers, as usual, I see a bleach blonde vampire reading over his shoulder.

The paper coffee cup falls from my hand and spills on the floor by my feet. The substance coats my left heel, staining it crimson.

"Y/N..." Spike utters my name with his smooth accent.

"Oh my God..." I whisper breathlessly in awe.

Angel flies up from his chair and points to the door. "Y/N, get out of here!"

"Never took you for the lawyer type," Spike smirks mischievously as he slithers toward me. "Gotta admit though, loving the working woman style." He gestures at my body up and down like I'm a mannequin in a store.

Behind me, the other members of Angel's team enter for their meeting.

"Lorne, take Y/N home!" Angel instructs.

"Right away, Boss," Lorne complies.

"Take one step closer to her green goblin and I'll bite your head off!" Spike threatens sharply.

"Spike, stop it!" Angel barks.

"Oh come on, Angel," Spike dismisses as he closes in on me. His fingers comb through the ends of my hair. "It isn't like you to ruin a perfectly good reunion!"

My body tenses under his touch, much to Spike's dismay. It wasn't long ago that his embrace was the only thing that kept me tied down to Earth. Now, it makes me shutter.

"You shouldn't be here!" Angel growls as he rushes over to us and yanks Spike away from me. "She's been doing great without you!"

"Have you forgotten? She was mine before she was yours," Spike chuckles wickedly.

The English vampire turns to me again and caresses my cheek. His eyes continue to linger in my memories late at night staring at me intensely.

"Did you really think I was going to let you go?" He mumbles to me and the words make my heartache.

"Get away from her!" Angel hisses warningly, on the verge of throwing Spike through the top floor window.

Spike ignores Angel and continues to admire me. "Did you miss me, My Love?"

Yes.

I shake my head while I slip my hand over his to remove it from my cheek. "You hurt me. I can never forgive you for what you did."

Spike's face falters immensely. "Y/N... Let me explain! I-"

"No!" I stand my ground, something I never used to do when we were together. "You deceived me, used me, broke me!" I switch my gaze between Spike and Angel frantically until I find myself overwhelmed. "I... I can't do this... I'm sorry Angel, excuse me."

Thus, I hurry out the door past my coworkers before anyone can stop me. Both Angel and Spike call for me, but I ignore each of them as I gather my things and disappear onto the elevator.

________________________

After today's cluster of events, a long shower was much needed. I have no doubt Angel will be visiting me once the workday is over, just to check-in. I can't believe Spike is here in Los Angeles. It all felt like a dream or perhaps a nightmare. How dare he come here after half a year and expect me to act as though nothing happened.

Immediately after my shower, I go to my kitchen to fix myself a cup of tea. I stick the kettle on the stovetop before I get dressed. At first, living alone startled me, but since then I've grown to prefer it. I like the peace. After long days at the office, time alone and space alone is what I need.

"Y/N," a voice makes itself known.

My hand flies up to my chest as I pant. "Spike! Jesus and Mary! What the actual fuck?!"

"A vampire scared of the dark... how ironic," he teases with a smirk.

"Get out!" I shout, pointing toward the door. "I'm not even dressed you feen!" I start to march back to my bedroom which makes Spike follow. What part of 'get out' doesn't he understand?

"Oh come on, Love. It's not like I haven't seen anything before," he insinuates.

"Get out!" I repeat.

"No, not until you hear what I have to say!" He insists.

"You love Buffy! Congrats! Now, go be with her!" I urge him away.

Abruptly, Spike grabs my forearm and yanks me to a halt. His free hand flies up to my chin and forces me to meet him in the eye. I fight him off, prying at his arms, but nothing works.

"I never loved her!" He barks at me. "Well... maybe a little once... but that was before I met you! That night I didn't cheat on you! I swear it! I went over to her house to kill her and when I got there she was crying! Her mother has been ill! That's why I couldn't come sooner... plus I... I..."

"You what?" I growl in disdain.

"I got a soul for you," he remarks calmly, nearly solemnly.

I frown, how is that possible?

"You what?" I question.

"I went to the desert, got my soul back so I could be like Angel..." He explains. "To be like someone you'd want to be with," he adds.

He softens his grip on my face. To my surprise, I don't pull away. I stare into his blue eyes with astonishment. How could he get back his soul? Is that why it took him so long to come and find me? For months I wondered if he would ever come... but he never did. When I finally started to get settled and moved on he shows up. Spike's hand falls from my face with a sigh.

"Forget this. Never mind," he starts to back away. "Have a good life, Y/N."

I stand frozen, speechless, and unsure what to do as Spike struts away toward the door. Thus again, he has disappeared from my life.

________________

Masterlist

Tags: @currently-obsesed-with-spike @mx-pibbles @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard

#Spike x Buffy #spike fanfic #spuffy #spike #btvs fanfic #btvs imagine #btvs imgaine #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #Angel x Buffy #buffy summers

44 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #I swear I hadn't planned on posting this on Colin's birthday 😅#it's just how it came up #piracytheorist writes

21 notes · View notes

charmingturkeysandwich · 5 years ago

Text

“Hope at Christmastime”: A CS Secret Santa Gift

Merry Christmas from your CS Secret Santa, @thislassishooked! I hope you’re enjoying a wonderful holiday season. From our exchanges, I decided that I wanted to do something from Killian’s POV that incorporated lights and decorations. And for some reason, I felt very strongly that I wanted it to be somewhat canon... so here you have it!

This is a season 1 mostly compliant one-shot in which Killian is a fisherman in Storybrooke, and he meets Emma and Henry a few times. Intrigued and oddly hopeful because of Emma’s fiery spirit, he embarks with her on a Christmas quest for bringing about joy.

It’s not pure fluff and leaves some to the imagination, but I felt like it stayed true to their kind of dynamic. I really, really hope you enjoy!

I know I’m a little early, but I’m sick as hell and worried that tomorrow I might not be conscious, so here you have it on Christmas Eve Eve :)

@cssecretsanta2k19

---

It was an odd feeling, being half in love with a woman you’d practically just met. But it had been years, decades, lifetimes, probably, since Killian Jones had encountered such a fierce, witty, engaging, interesting, and bloody gorgeous woman like Emma Swan.

He’d been living in Storybrooke, Maine… since forever, really. His brother had been in Storybrooke General since his accident years before – still alive, of course, but the doctors continually warned Killian against having any kind of hope that their lives would ever return to the normalcy of Granny’s for breakfast in the off-season and hard work lobster fishing the rest of the year.

It wasn’t just that Emma was the liveliest woman he’d met in ages, she was simply the liveliest being, as if she somehow was part of a totally different, vibrant world.

Storybrooke was… fine. It was safe. He made a living. The people were well enough – he enjoyed talking with Miss Blanchard, the teacher who often read to the coma patients in her spare time. Archie was kind and generous, if not a little bit condescending at times, but his dog was sweet and always made Killian smile. Even Dr. Whale was all right – understanding about the phantom pains from the loss of Killian’s hand that he couldn’t even remember.

But Emma? She was pure magic.

Rumor was she was the mayor’s son’s biological mother, and little Henry had dragged her from her home of Boston to Storybrooke because he was so damn miserable. It made sense. Regina Mills was possibly the least nurturing person he could think of in the whole of Storybrooke, and no one ever really understood why she decided to adopt a child. Henry was wonderful, though – Killian had always thought so. Precocious, inquisitive, kind… many traits he can now attribute to nature versus nurture.

The fist time he spoke with Emma happened to be while she and Henry were walking along the pier one afternoon. Emma’s brows were stitched together in worry, her voice low as she spoke to her son, the boy clutching a large children’s book and never breaking eye contact with her. It felt intrusive to even witness the exchange, but alas they were in his way, and there wasn’t much he could do to avoid them when he needed to get all of his supplies back to his ship without somehow losing another limb.

“Excuse me, love, Master Henry,” he mumbled breathlessly, twisting to the side to pass them by without knocking either of them in the head with something large and possibly rusty (when was the last time he’d gotten a tetanus shot? Did they even offer them at the hospital here?).

“Hi, Mr. Jones!” Henry called excitedly, rushing past his mother and following Killian onto the Jewel.

“How’s your day going, lad?” Killian asked after hefting the pile of supplies onto the closest surface. The boy looked happy, as usual, but seemed to have an extra glint in his eye.

“Henry, what the hell!” Emma shouted as her boots stomped onto the ship, her blonde curls now mangled from the seaside breeze.

“Don’t worry, I know him! This is Killian. He’s Captain Hook.” Henry said it so matter-of-factly that it didn’t even cross Killian’s mind to be offended about the possibly jab at his handlessness. The way Henry was talking you’d think he was just reading from a biography.

“Kid, what did I tell you about that? Operation Cobra is for you and I only, and, like I said, it might be time to take a little break from it.” Emma’s eyes were full of concern, genuine worry for her boy, but also fear. He knew that well enough from his vague recollections of the accident(s) that scarred him and rendered his brother near lifeless. What was she so afraid of?

His attempts to quell her worry were for naught, as she wasn’t about to trust a single hair on his body. “Love, the lad and I are great friends, aren’t we Henry?”

“I’m not your love. And Henry shouldn’t be running on board the boats of near strangers when I’m hardly trusted to keep him breathing let alone keep him from being kidnapped by Peter Pan.” Emma snapped.

“Mom, he’s Hook, not Pan,” Henry corrected, his tone that of an exasperated teenager despite the boy being no more than ten or eleven.

“I don’t care who he is, I’m not letting him be the reason I’m never allowed to see you again, Henry! You know if your mother knew that you ran onto some dude’s boat who apparently you thought was a pirate under my watchshe’d have me jailed. Again!”

“It’s actually a ship here, love,” Killian couldn’t help himself from pointing out, his amusement at her fiery attitude entirely inappropriate for what was clearly a very strong emotion she was experiencing. But it was simply so foreign to him, a person having… feelings. Beyond despair, anyway.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mo-om,” Henry chastised, though it wasn’t clear if he was offended by her language or embarrassed that she wasn’t quite a fan of Killian’s… sass.

(Killian hadn’t remembered a single other moment in his life where he’d said something so… unfiltered. Damn.)

“My apologies, love, I’m not sure what’s come over me. I’m usually much more polite. Henry, we all know your mother – Mayor Mills, that is – would look for just about any reason to throw this lovely fireball out of our town permanently. Emma is right to worry. Now how about you two go about your way and I’ll show you more about fishing the next time that Regina approves it?’”

“So, never?” Henry mumbled, rolling his eyes and walking toward the gangway. Emma turned to follow him, but Killian wanted one last chance to apologize.

“I really am sorry, love. I can’t imagine you’re having an easy go of it here in Storybrooke and I just wanted… well, I just wanted you to know that there’s at least one more person on your side than you thought.”

Emma finally looked back at him, incredulous, and Killian suddenly felt quite naked. Reaching to scratch behind his ear, he clarified: “Me, I mean. I’m also on your side.”

She rolled her eyes yet again, but a spark came alive in the smirk she shot back at him. “Good to know, pirate, but I’m not your love.”

From that day, he’d had numerous minor interactions with the Mills/Swan duo. He saw them at breakfast at Granny’s one morning, and Emma refused to so much as look at him, while Henry excitedly told him all about the website he’d used to find Emma (he glossed over how he stole his teacher’s credit card, a fact that Emma still appeared to be quite peeved about). The following week he saw the two of them at the playground that Killian passed on his way to his ship. He re-introduced himself to Emma, as she was yet to actually acknowledge she knew his name, but she only responded with some variant of, “OK Pirate,” which had led to her and Henry laughing like fools for at least five straight minutes.

About a week before Christmas, he finally ran into Emma without her son, and while he’d thought that was something he was hoping for – an opportunity to get to know her without her hiding behind Henry – he realized something awful. That fiery spirit in her – the one he so admired – was dimming. This town, it was getting to her. Was she doomed just like the rest of them to live forever without a happy ending? Or even a happy middle? Was this safe, sweet, seaside town nothing but dashed hopes and broken dreams?

“Uh, Miss Swan?” he asked, cautiously approaching the bench she was sat on, her blonde hair whipping in the breeze, her hands tucked tightly into her flame red jacket.

“What,” she called back, not even looking at him.

Even their non-conversations previously had been some type of banter, some kind of force in his dreary life, but today, she seemed defeated.

He didn’t know much about the world – didn’t really care enough to participate most days – but wasn’t this seasons supposed to be the one where you believed even more strongly than ever that everything might just end up being all right?

“Can I sit?

“It’s a free country.”

“My purpose in sitting with you is to speak to you, and while I could talk at you, I’m actually hoping you’ll talk back. Is that a reasonable wish or shall I keep on moving?” With great effort, he kept his voice light and teasing, when in reality his heart was breaking right along with hers. From what he understood about her life, Henry was new to it, but had nonetheless become its center. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have had hope dangled in front of your face only to possibly have it snatched away.

Instead of snapping back at him, she slowly lifted her head, swept her hair to the side, and patted the seat next to her. “Why would you want to talk to me?” she asked, her eyes once again trained on her feet.

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“You could. I’m here,” he offered.

She exhaled deeply, shaking her head and gripping the bench at either side of her legs. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I have no right to Henry… I had him young and gave him up for his best chance. And, as usual, I was wrong. And as usual there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m fighting a losing battle. It’s not like anyone can defeat Regina.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’ve certainly gotten under her skin.”

“Yeah, making it all worse for Henry. I’m just being selfish here, aren’t I? Wanting my son back because he says his rightful mommy is an evil queen? I’m sure that’s something a lot of kids his age feel. I just… I just wanted to be wanted, I guess.”

Killian let his right hand graze the back of hers as he shifted slightly closer to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he allowed his hand to fully rest on hers, squeezing ever so slightly.

“You’re not making Henry’s life worse by being here. Believe me, Emma. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I have eyes. Henry has always been a bright spot in an otherwise lightless town, but since you’ve arrived it’s like he’s a whole new kid. Confident, excited, hopeful. And don’t discredit what you’ve done for everyone else. Miss Blanchard seems happy to have a roommate. Ruby loves when you visit with her at the diner. Granny seems to think of you as a surrogate granddaughter. Our world was black and white and you brought us color, love.”

The shock in her eyes at his words was enough to both warm his heart and enrage him – it’s not as if he was saying anything that should be surprising to her. Who in her life had made her feel so worthless and how soon could he stab them through the heart with his hook?

You know, if he had one.

But her shock wore off as a bit of mirth seemed to take its place. “Now, I can’t take credit for all of that. Granny likes the money I spend. And Mary Margaret… let’s just say I’m not the one fucking her, so I’m definitely not the reason for the extra smiles.”

“Miss Blanchard!” he gasped theatrically, clutching his heart and hamming it up.

“Oh yeah. You might be the native here, but I know all the secrets, friend.”

“So tell me another.”

“Hmmm. Granny’s lasagnas are frozen.”

“No!” This time he was actually shocked. That crazy loon…

“Oh, yeah. And her nonfat pizza crust? Definitely still has fat.”

“That’s it. I’m calling the health inspector.”

“You know, we don’t have one. I think you’d have to call the sheriff,” she chuckled, flipping her hand over on the bench so her palm was against his.

“Hmmmm, think I have an in with her? I’ve heard she’s a spitfire.”

“I don’t know. Depends on the day you approach her. I’ve heard she has mixed feelings about you, Jones.”

“Oh, so you do know my name,” Killian teased, adjusting the fringe around his hat with his stump.

“I tend to remember the people who try to annoy me to death,” she deadpanned, but he caught the ghost of a smirk at the corner of her lips.

“What if, insteaed of annoying you to death, maybe you let me help you?” Killian offered, absolutely no clue what exactly he could offer her when she wasn’t wrong about the futility of fighting with Mayor Mills.

“Hey now, I’m no damsel. No one saves me but me,” she said, pulling her hand from beneath his and tucking it back into her jacket.

“Easy, love. I’m well aware that you’re more likely than any other person in this god forsaken town to actually have some success at anything.”

“You been reading Henry’s book?” Emma turned fully toward him for the first time since he sat, her cheeks red and her eyes dancing with cautious amusement.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure. Why?”

“Well. According to his book, I’m here to save everyone. Bring back the happy endings.”

“Oh? And where exactly have they gone?”

“The Evil Queen – Regina, actually – has ripped them from you. But I, the daughter of Snow White (Mary Margaret) and Prince Charming (the former coma patient she’s been banging) am the ‘product of true love’ and therefore can break the curse.”

“Damn, you should sell that shit to Disney. You’d make a fortune.”

“Hah. Maybe I should. It’s about the only way I could ever afford to fight Regina the real way, you know with lawyers and money and not … magic.”

It struck him at that moment how true Henry’s story actually rang. Sure, there was no way it was actually real, but hadn’t Killian himself thought countless times how full of life Emma was, how she seemed magical in a world of nothing but ordinary hopelessness? Even if he didn’t believe Henry’s story… scientifically, or what have you – he believed it in his heart.

Emma might not be an actual princess, but she definitely had the power to save. And he’d do anything he could to help her.

“It’s the season for magic, you know?” Killian pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward the wreaths haphazardly hung on the lampposts that led back to main street.

“Are you going to help me achieve a Christmas miracle, Killian?” She reached back toward him and took his hand, squeezing as her eyes sparkled with a plan.

“I’m damn well going to try.”

Together they stumbled through the slippery streets toward Granny’s, armed with an idea and the hopes that Ruby would facilitate their ridiculous plan to bring Henry as much joy as possible, even if Emma couldn’t directly be involved.

“So, you’re telling me you want me to let you decorate the shit out of this place, just so Henry sees it?” Ruby questioned, her one eyebrow nearly touching her hairline, her face so skeptical.

So Killian jumped in. “Listen, Ruby, you know damn well fighting with Regina never ends well. We just have to give the kid some hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

“Are you sleeping with Mary Margaret now, too, because damn that girl gets around.”

“Ruby!” Emma shouted, smacking her on the arm.

“What? Have you seen him? If Mary Margaret isn’t taking her chance with him and you’re not interested, then hello sailor, fancy taking me for a ride?”

“Ruby, fucking focus yourself. Can you help us? And by help us I mean literally offer free decorating service that will likely increase your tips?”

“Oh, fine. For Henry.”

“For Henry!” Emma and Killian repeated, scurrying off to whatever store they could find that carried Christmas lights, tinsel, blow-up polar bears, and any other kind of purchase-able holiday joy.

Once they’d filled three whole carts, they rolled them back to Granny’s, sat down to sip hot chocolate until close, and then went to town, covering every surface with glittery tinsel, jingle bells, reindeer, elves, and pretty little lit-up presents. Killian borrowed a ladder from the short pharmacist so he could string icicle lights across the courtyard outside and Emma filled the big windows at the entrance with those giant bulb style lights of all different colors. At some point after 2am, Ruby texted Emma that the electricity bill was going to be something she’d have to take up with Granny, but Emma just laughed and Killian said he��d pay it and they kept decorating until about 5am when Granny appeared to start baking in preparation for the morning crowd.

“I’m not even going to ask,” was all Granny said to Killian as she entered her now Christmas paper-wrapped front door and Killian’s heart definitely grew two sizes or more when his eyes traveled over to Emma, carefully arranging the Hallmark Disney castle on the ledge next to the table that Henry and Regina often sat at when they stopped there before school.

It was a losing battle they were fighting, Killian was sure of it – nothing in Storybrooke ever led to winning for anyone who wasn’t Regina Mills. But one look at Emma and all he wanted to do was keep fighting, keep trying, keep hoping that one day their world would be full of happy endings again.

Someday.

#cs ff #cs secret santa #keisha writes #this is a gift

65 notes · View notes

fuckingfinwions · 5 years ago

Text

AU: In Noldorin culture, starting at his majority at age 50, an elf sexually serves his father. After all, so much was putting into raising the child, it’s only fair that he gets to see what came of it. It would be abhorrent for a father to physically force or to sexually torment his son, but the son is expected to come to his father’s bed whenever requested, until the son reaches his second majority (age 100), or marries and starts a family of his own.

This fulfills the “leather/rubber” square of my season of kink card.

Gil-Galad and Maedhros sat across from each other. They had met at an abandoned village halfway between the two camps so that Elrond and Elros could go to the large, safer force. The main negotiations had been completed by letter, but now the two commanders were finally seeing each other face to face. Both had left their swords outside to demonstrate truce, though there were guards close enough to make betrayal costly.

Gil-Galad said, “Thank you for releasing the boys. What did you want to speak with me about?”

“That’s all the warmth you have to welcome your father?” Maedhros replied.

“As you are a murderer who hasn’t spoken to me since I was twelve, yes.”

“I sent you away for your safety after the war seemed hopeless. Do you really wish you had fought alongside me these past fifty years?”

“No!”

“Anyway, that touches on what I wanted to speak with you about. I have missed you, though even without me you have grown into a strong king.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“I have also missed the chance to see how you’ve grown as a man, as the reflection of my lover and myself. I would have that tonight.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Why not? You are my son, and I have the right to you. I’m not even considering repayment for the decades you stayed away from me.”

“It is a perverted tradition, and you are worthy of nothing.”

“This has nothing to do with your opinions of my actions. It is a part of Noldorin tradition as much as the crown; you can’t claim one without the other.”

“What would my other father say of this if he were here? Would Fingon be as willing to bend me over the nearest scrap of furniture?”

“You’ve truly been among Sindar too long! The homage of a son to his father is perfectly reasonable and honorable, not merely the refuge of immoral creatures such as you consider me. Fingon and I discussed that we would raise you to understand Noldorin customs and responsibility, and he would be grieved that you turn your back on them.”

“If being among Sindar allowed me to see clearly what is unnatural and marred about having sex with someone you raised from a child, I am glad of it.”

“Unnatural! What could be more natural than to wish how to see the person you find most beautiful in the world combines with yourself? And if you object to sex with someone who raised you, that should make me more appealing rather than less.”

A terrible thought occurred to GIl-Galad. “If you think this way, I assume your brother does as well, and he raised Elwing’s sons. Were they forced to pay for their care the same way?”

“You are phrasing it in the worst possible way, but no. Though the twins call Maglor 'father’, he does not claim any rights over them. And besides, as Peredhel it is hard to know when they are of age.”

Gil-Galad let out a sigh of relief.

“You, though, are my son, and I am growing frustrated that you will acknowledge that but not your duties.”

“Why should I? What benefit will I get out of pretending you deserve anything from me?!”

“Benefit! Fine, then, if you want to cheapen yourself by bartering your body I can hardly stop you. First off, I won’t have my men shoot you tomorrow as you ride away, even though it would help me a lot for the Beleriand Noldor to have no king. Second, I will not tell your followers who curse my name whose son you are, nor will I tell Arafinwe either that you’re mine or that you have less respect for tradition and law than Feanor himself, even though it’s true.”

“So you put me in your bed through threats and blackmail.”

“It could have been out of your own desire and respect, but you decided that was not enough. I you need to be bribed with a treat though, I will tell you in the morning all the tactics that Morgoth has employed in the past five hundred years, so you can better defend against them.”

“You paying only after me? Hardly fair.”

“I am already paying for what is mine by right. I think you have heard quite well what happens to those who try to extort me.”

“Fine. For tonight, I will obey you, Father.”

“Good. Start by taking off your armor, I can hardly see the shape of you.”

Gil-Galad did so, setting each piece off to the side and wondering if this was all an attempt to get him vulnerable enough for an assassination. He struggled with the buckles on the back of his thighs, usually having a squire to help with them.

Maedhros approached, and Gil-Galad tensed. Maedhros undid the buckles that Gil-Galad had been having trouble with, then moved upwards. Maedhros kissed the back of Gil-Galad’s neck as he undid the buckles on his shoulders.

When Gil-Galad was down to his tunic and hose, Maedhros said “very good. Help me with mine now; as I’m not wearing full plate it should be faster.”

Gil-Galad pulled the mail tunic over Maedhros’s head, and wondered aloud, “Even with each other’s help, are we going to be able to put all this back on?”

Maedhros gave an uncaring shrug once he was down to his leather riding pants and jerkin. “Probably not.”

“But people will know!”

“Maglor will guess, but no one else knows you’re my son. You can say that we were working late into the night and sleeping in armor is uncomfortable. Or you can say that the vile kinslayer threatened you into sex, I don’t particularly care. Just know that if anyone tries to avenge your honor their death will be on your conscience.”

“Are you-” Gil-Galad bit off the comment he was going to make. “Don’t joke about that tonight; not if you want me to stay polite.”

“If you inherited the family temper, you ought to practice controlling it more, especially as a king,” Maedhros chided. “But very well.”

Maedhros stepped back and looked at Gil-Galad; he made a pretty picture. His clothes had been disheveled by the armor’s removal and Gil-Galad had not bothered to put them back in place.

“You look pretty, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy what’s under the clothes even more. Undress for me, slowly.”

Gil-Galad began to unlace his shirt. He looked Maedhros in the eye for a moment, then hastily glanced away. Once the shirt was unlaced at the neck he lifted it a few inches, paused to glance at Maedhros without making eye contact, lifted it an inch more and paused again. Maedhros was about to yell in frustration when Gil-Galad yanked the shirt up until was all bunched between his nipples and chin and wiggled his shoulders, perhaps to show of their breadth.

Gil-Galad was so obviously nervous that he nearly got his arms stuck in the shirt, but Maedhros was far too distracted to help. Maedhros had been right about how much he would enjoy seeing his son’s body. The breadth in the shoulders was all Fingon, but light skin dotted with freckles was barely a shade darker than Maedhros’s own. Gil-Galad’s height came from him as well, and that lovely chest several inches closer to Maedhros’s gaze than when he was with Fingon.

Their similar heights also made Gil-Galad’s lack of eye contact extremely obvious. He wasn’t looking up from his lashes and playing the ingenue, but rather staring at a fixed point a few inches past Maedhros’s left ear. It couldn’t be the ear itself, as that had been gone for centuries, and most people didn’t find it’s lack interesting after a moment or two of shock.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Even if I’m not your first choice of lover, I assure you that I will not cause you pain and have every intention of bringing you pleasure alongside my own.”

Gil-Galad blushed and mumbled for a moment.

“What was that?”

“Not my first choice, but my first all the same.”

“Really? You’re a virgin?”

“Yes. It hasn’t seemed worth the headache pursuing anyone.”

“Are there none who pursue you?” Maedhros asked as he walked closer.

Gil-Galad shook his head.

“You mean that a beautiful, brave, noble young man such as yourself has not yet been recognized as the treasure you are?” Maedhros was now standing with his clothed chest less than an inch from Gil-Galad’s bare one, still refraining from touching. He leaned close and whispered in his son’s ear, “That is a travesty I will thoroughly make up for tonight.”

Gil-Galad shivered and turned his head to look Maedhros in the eye. Maedhros held his gaze for only a moment before leaning in still further, capturing his lips and pressing against his front.

Gil-Galad had remained soft until now, but the leather laces rubbing against his chest began to stir him. He reached for them to try and get the two of them back on equal footing, but Maedhros caught his hand.

“Lately, I am more beautiful while clothed. You are magnificent though, and I expect I’ll like what’s under your trousers even more. Take them of; I want to see all of you,” Maedhros said, backing up a few inches so Gil-Galad could have room.

Gil-Galad did. The tent was chilly, and he leaned back towards Maedhros as soon as possible. His cock brushed against Maedhros’s thigh, the leather sticking and releasing.

“You certainly get the length from me, but that curve is all Fingon. I wonder if liking your balls played with is a family trait as well.” Maedhros reached down with his right arm, the left being occupied tracing patterns on Gil-Galad’s back. Maedhros wore an odd sort of glove on the handless wrist, but he had a lot of practice and was very skillful with it. He caressed Gil-Galad’s sack, letting the leather glove drag along the sensitive skin while never pressing too hard.

Gil-Galad moaned.

“It seems so,” Maedhros said, drifting his fingers lower as his right arm maintained its place.

Gil-Galad started forward when his father’s fingers found their goal. Even one finger was more than he had ever had inside him, and he was scared of how large a cock would feel.

Maedhros said, “Deep breaths, relax and just focus on what you’re feeling right now.”

Gil-Galad let his head rest on Maedhros’s shoulder and did so, inhaling the musky scent of the leather overlaid with the oil worked in to keep it clean. It was heady.

Maedhros was starting to sweat, but he had no intention of undressing beyond what was necessary, and not until the time it was necessary. He let the sweat run down his face and into his collar as he trailed kisses across his son’s face.

Gil-Galad was practically overwhelmed with sensation. The finger inside him had found a spot that made him see stars. Every time he tried to move away his cock rubbed against the firm leather of Maedhros’s pants, or against the sleeve where Maedhro’s arm was still toying with his balls. The kisses were a light contrast, until Maedhros began kissing his lips as well.

Gil-Glad came the moment is father’s tongue parted his lips. He threw back his head and moaned. Maedhros looked sweaty but still fully dressed as if he had come in from the training yard - with the exception of a very obvious white stain on one thigh and halfway up his belly. Gil-Galad thought he could have come again from the sight alone.

“I’d say this night is off to a very good start,” Maedhros remarked, making no move to wipe away the mess.

#season of kink #incest eromenos au #fucking gil galad #this scene takes place in F.A. 555 and Gil-Galad was born in F.A. 460 #making him 95 and definitely an adult but not seen as societally mature #warning for incest advocacy by one of the characters #things that are relevant in this au:#feanor and arafinwe both married young #Feanor didn't like the association with Indis #and although the norm is only for same-gender parent and child to have sex in this au #there's some showing off that's expected between spouses #and Feanor was not going to let Indis see him naked and vulnerable #Arafinwe married young because he believes he's Finwe's least favorite son and didn't want to keep being aware how he was falling short #once you've had the fire of Feanor and the strength of Nolofinwe in your bed why would you want him?#Arafinwe wanted to avoid hearing Finwe reassure him that he was familiar and cozy #(and he was in love with Earwen and such but there's no reason they couldn't have waited a decade if he'd wanted to)#one day late but happy father's day ;)#not archived yet

5 notes · View notes

chiiquititamoved · 5 years ago

Text

dracula ep 2 - observations

ahhh! the scene is set and i cannot wait for more agatha

so we open up onto dracula’s castle? i think

dracula and my beloved aggie are in a room together

wait so are they buddies now? drac’s not trying to eat her or anything, which i find suspicious

there’s a chess game going on with some symbolism i am too tired to grasp

drac starts telling agatha about the voyage he made to england

scene changes to a ship and the captain having a nightmare about a dismembered hand? idk

now we meet a passenger, dr sharma who’s looking at a body or something

it’s the “grave the children complained about” ??? i’m getting lucy vibes

the coffin/body is 70 yrs old but there’s fresh scratches on the lid! i wonder where this is going

ew a very gross body rises out of the coffin

scene change! we meet a dead guy, piotr

his mum/sister/relative is saying he was going to be a sailor but he died before he could, and there’s this very suspicious guy sweeping in a doorway and listening to the conversation

but then a nun closes the door and locks him in his room

and then the lady relative is told by the priest to stab w/ a stake piotr and she does. wise move, ma’am

this is all taking place close to a shipyard/dock

oooh suspicious guy is going to the ship and impersonating piotr! interesting

so it’s established that the one-handed guy from the nightmare the captain had is coming back on the ship. apparently it was the captain’s fault he lost his hand, but the nice one-handed guy is making a joke out of it and it’s all very friendly, but it still haunts our cap i guess

lord and lady ruthven are coming aboard the ship. they just got married, and it’s all very exciting

the lord jokes about “making it a long voyage” (wink wink) to cap (comedic genius right here) and then this guy who introduced him is like “oh, it will be” we’ve got so many suspicious characters already, i feel so blessed!!

okay - i’ll call the guy who’s pretending to be piotr fake piotr to avoid confusion and i’ll call the other suspicious guy (i think he’s lord and lady ruthven’s servant/secretary? he’s got pretty nice clothes, idk) bob

there’s an old guy who approaches fake piotr like “are you as inexperienced as you look? are you scared?” and he’s like well yeah and the other guy goes “me too.” ???? that’s reassuring!!

ah the doctor (i forget his name) and his daughter are boarding

dracula boards openly as himself because THAT’S a good idea

agatha, of course, echoes my thoughts and drac’s like “what do you think i would’ve done, lie around in a box for 4 weeks?” uh, yeah, you’re a fucking vamipre

anyway, back to the ship. fake piotr is about to enter a room (no. 9) but this crewmember comes up to him and goes nah you can’t go in there these passengers are sick (he sounds like he’s lying) and fake piotr is like okay thanks i won’t do that then

there’s fucking flies EVERYWHERE on this ship jesus

like i get they’re undead and it’s symbolic and suspenseful or whatever but it’s also fucking GROSS

anyway drac comes up to the crewmember, who for some reason is listening at the door of no. 9, and says some creepy stuff to him (turns out he’s from bavaria. this may be relevant later?)

so fake piotr is from romania and he’s boring the handless guy with his “story” - the handless guy points out that it sounds SUPER fucking fake. anyway time for dinner!

so now they show the fancy dining room and lord whatever is there w/ bob (his name’s adisa, actually) and adisa’s like ooh this wine isn’t good i don’t like it and then they argue whatever and the doctor interjects

OH MY GOD! adisa and the lord are together! the lord’s like you know this marriage is a necessary evil and adisa’s like yeah but it hurts. :,( i feel him man

drac introduces himself to the old lady, bla bla, and then he drinks this crewman’s blood and like absorbs his mannerisms (and his german)

god this is boring i want more of my tragic gay love story

turns out drac and the old lady (who is a duchess) danced together on her 18th birthday? okay? i don’t care where’s adisa

and that’s the night the duchess’s mother disappeared. great.

now drac drinks the old lady’s blood

there’s a fog around the ship... it seems to be following them... how mysterious...

okay now drac is creeping out fake pietro by telling him a gross story because he was looking in a barrel? I DON’T CARE WHERE IS ADISA

ahh finally adisa’s back. so dorabella (the gay lord’s wife) is tired (and everyone else is like OOHhoo i wonder why) but drac seems to be on to them. uh oh

honestly other than agatha adisa and the lord are the only characters i actually want to have a happy ending

okay everyone’s asleep but doc, and he’s having flashbacks or whatever to that body from before

he gives his sleeping daughter (who’s mute + deaf, btw, forgot to mention that) a touching little monologue abt how there’s monsters in this world and he’ll protect her (that sounds sarcastic but it actually is sweet)

lady whatever (gay’s wife) goes out on deck in the night, for a walk, but meets dracula out there

he’s kinda flirting/talking w/ her outside but she’s obviously in love with her husband, unfortunately

m’lady reveals she’s going to america

dracula shows her the water in a barrel or something? but refers to it as a mirror? he shows her a pic of her and her husband in the reflection and goes “i thought i’d show you a picture of what might have been,” or something dramatic like that

the doctor’s daughter starts bleeding from her face in her bed, and she wakes up

turns out the blood is from the lady and is dripping through the ship’s deck!

doc’s daughter goes up to investigate and sees drac drinking the lady’s blood

:( i really don’t want the doc’s daughter to die

well of course now drac is threatening her >:(

like i feel bad for dorabella but i want adisa to be happy. i’m very conflicted

they’re going to search for the murderer now

DRACULA IS SO OBVIOUSLY THE CULPRIT OH MY GOD. he keeps saying the most suspicious things and nobody cares

okay now drac is saying that they should search cabin no. 9? which only the captain has access to, for some reason, and he’s super anxious to not let anyone else in?

there’s a bunch of flies in cabin no. 9. great, more death

it’s established that there is actually another person in cabin 9, the mates hear breathing or something

drac: “ah, but you’re a scientist.” doctor: “yes, i was, at the university of calcutta. are you a scientist yourself?” “no, but i have an appetite for it.”

this guy gets injured because of the fog or something

dracula is like addicted to blood, and he can’t stand the sight of it or something

NO THE LORD RUTWHATEVER IS WITH DRACULA

IF HE’S GOING TO CHEAT ON ADISA I WILL RIOT

oh no thank god everyone else is in the room with him

The gay lord’s friend who told him to take this ship is called balaur? oh my god balaur is the dude that the rich old lady said was paying for her trip to england in the beginning! i feel like we’re onto something my dudes

i was right! balaur is also the doctor’s sponsor

So the injured guy (the crewmember) gets woken up by the gay lord’s wife and she’s like ooh it’s okay but then it turns out it’s dracula pretending to be her and he drinks the guy’s blood

Ooooh shit most of the crew left on a lifeboat!!! Shit

NOW WE’RE FINALLY GOING TO SEE WHO’S IN CABIN NINE!

Okay so we cut back to drac, who spouts some cryptic bullshit as usual

Ahhhh we’re finally getting an explanation for why he and agatha are here! She gets up ans she’s like “how did i get here? We were at the convent!” and dracula let mina go? But he didn’t let agatha go

Agatha’s like “the people you feed on, you make them dream!”

NO, HE DRANK AGATHA’S BLOOD????!!

OH MY GOD AGATHA’S IN CABIN NUMBER NINE

Drac goes into the cabin and he’s like agatha is the murderer!

And they’re about to hang her!!!!!! No but she’s the love of my life!!!!

okay the captain and the doctor are like she couldn’t possibly have done it! she’s too weak

now, my darling agatha, who of course has her wits about her, says that she’s a vampire so they can’t hang her! and they’re like uh okay i kinda believe her

but then drac starts to kick the barrel from under her! and aggie BITES HER LIP AND THE BLOOD FALLS

dracula goes a little batshit (! get it???) and they see it! and then the doctor’s daughter (who you will recall i ALWAYS had faith in) comes in and makes the sign of the cross and drac’s repulsed

IS THE DAY SAVED? no, there’s 30 minutes left in the episode

DRACULA RUNS AWAY WHILE THEY’RE SAVING AGATHA

AND MY HERO (AGATHA, OBVIOUSLY) JUST SITS UP AND GOES “i am sister agatha van helsing of the st mary’s convent, budapest. captain sokolov, you are relieved of command.” JUST LIKE THAT! MY HERO!

okay so the doctor has a little potion for if he’s undead? I guess it kills an undead person

the remaining crew members threw all of the boxes of earth but one off of the ship (drac needs to sleep on transylvanian earth for some reason?)

gay lord just called dracula seductive >:( where’s adisa?? I miss him

WhAT the FUCK? gay lord LIKES dracula?

NO ARE GAY LORD AND DRACULA GOING TO FUCK

GAY LORD IS ON DRACULA’S SIDE

DOCTOR AND HIS DAUGHTER JUST PULLED SOME CROSSES BECAUSE DUH AND GAY LORD IS THREATENING TO SHOOT THEM

NO NOW THE DOCTOR AND HIS DAUGHTER ARE DEAD

AND DRACULA JUST STARTS TO DRINK THE LORD’S BLOOD

Fake piotr then walks into the cabin and is like “wtf,” obviously, and then runs up to the deck and tells people, who are nailing pages of the bible to the deck

Oh no adisa’s sad! He’s crying no :,(

They’re all in the bible circle tho

Oookay so they were suspicious of piotr because last time drac took over harker’s body

So now they’re all telling fake piotr to step out of the circle and back in

Fake piotr does it and succeeds but then ofc fucking dracula appears. *eye roll*

So adisa was like hey what the fuck why is religion the only thing stopping dracula? This is bullshit

and adisa’s like drac you took the love of my life :((( no adisa he’s not worth it!!!

dracula’s taunting adisa to step out of the circle!!! Nooooo

NO HE STEPS OUT OF THE CIRCLE

ADISA SHOOTS DRACULA NO

NO DRACULA BITES ADISA!!!:((((

Fake piotr lunges at dracula but he throws him down and a barrel pops open

The captain comes at him too

they’re all fighting him!!!

They set him on fire! About fucking time

He jumps into the water

Okay this is making me nervous where did he go

Scene change! It’s morning and the sun is shining

“Where’s olgaren?” “cooking.” “just when you think you’re out of danger.”

Fake piotr sees a white bird with its head severed on deck :|

We’re in the hold now, and aggie is keeping watch on the crate of dirt. The cap comes down and talks to her

Oooh agatha’s saying that this ship must never reach england. we’ve got one lifeboat left, apparently, so i guess that works

She wants to blow a hole in the hull

NO AGATHA WANTS TO SINK WITH THE SHIP

NO I LOVE HER

SHE SAYS SHE’S GOING TO DIE ANYWAY BECAUSE THE VAMPIRE’S CURSE LIVES INSIDE OF HER

Awwwwwwwww cap’s giving her a hug :,(

I’m HEARTBROKEN!!!!! AGATHA IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

I kinda have a feeling she won’t die tho

Ew there’s a fly buzzing on a doll’s face. hm - totally unrelated, by the way i wonder what dracula is inhabiting

Okay the guys are all leaving the ship

Aggie’s praying down below but then she hears a noise and comes up to the cabins

oh fucking hell dracula’s coming

great. just fucking great

oh no it’s the cap! Cap stayed with her on the ship!

fuck is it dracula inhabitng his body?

Agatha just found that dracula put a ton of dirt under a bed and he just slept on that one :/

okay the cap went on deck and agatha followed him but drac killed him before she could do anything

drac’s like follow me, and walks off

Agatha looks at cap’s body and cap’s alive!!! And he goes keep him talking!

So agatha goes on deck with drac

Drac says how he got back on the ship, etc.

Cap’s climbing towards them! Go! I’m rooting for you!

Ookay they’re doing some menacing small talk, dracula’s lying, whatever

Yes!! Cap set the ship on fire!!

Drac’s about to drink agatha’s blood - agatha: “yes, go ahead. The last thing your eyes will ever see is the contempt in mine!”

He throws her down onto the deck + runs away to the hold

THE SHIP IS EXPLODING!

Agatha’s in the water! She’s drowning noooo

Convo between fake pietro + one handed guy: “They’re dead, then.” “yes.” “what now?” “we honour them.” “how?” “by telling their story.” :,(

huh - so marius (hmHMHM) is fake piotr’s real name

Okay no dracula swims to england (it’s not that far away)

HUH

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK?

NOW DRACULA’S IN ENGLAND AND A HELICOPTER ARRIVES??? AND A BUNCH OF MODERN CARS??? AND AGATHA VAN HELSING BUT SHE’S WEARING MODERN CLOTHES??

TO BE CONTINUED

WELL. that’s done i guess.

oh my god the wc on this thing is once again 2000. i don’t mean for this to happen i promise

IN CONCLUSION: the next episode had better be fucking good. I mean it, Gatiss. The ending was insane (i had to rewatch it to make sure i wasn’t hallucinating) and honestly? This REEKS of season 4 sherlock (or whichever season it was when everything went to shit). If they make this some kind of ridiculous future au i WILL die. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

(P.S. I will try to watch the next episode this weekend! so watch out for (more) deranged ranting.)

#bbc #bbc dracula #dracula #agatha van helsing #dr sharma #adisa #lord ruthven #captain sokolov #i think i am going to die #mine

22 notes · View notes

madlymiho · 6 years ago

Text

Hello dear <33! Of course, you may request this!! This drabble is LIFE, and I enjoyed so much to write this!

Really I hope it would suit you! 💖 I put all my heart in this continuation! Amazing topic, love the idea that after all those reckless intercourses, they are finally facing some unexpected consequences!

Oh oh and yeah, it's suitable for once! ~

Words : 2930

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Crocodile - Scenario Part 4 (read after the cut)

Crocodile didn’t plan that he would be gone for so long. The mission in the New World was utterly different from any other one, and a simple trip of two weeks has ended up in the longest business he had to close for a long time. Now that he reaches his mansion’s door, Crocodile feels how much all of this adventure has deeply tired him. Lazily smocking on his cigar, creating a puff of grey cloud around his shoulders, he lifts his chin and looks up at the radiant stars, gleaming in the nocturnal sky. For a moment, he listens to the sounds of the house, feeling at ease to recover his common environment. The soft splashing sound of the fountain in the flowered garden. The appeasing clinking of the night insects. Everything feels like a suspended moment, and Crocodile can’t help but let lose a quick but real sigh of blissful.

“Sir,” someone greets at the door.

Crocodile, brought back to reality, gazes at his coworker with an eternal severe look. He didn’t even hear him open the door.

“Mister 1.” He greets back, making his way inside the mansion.

Almost by instinct, Crocodile can’t help but checks at the coats on the coat rack, searching for a particular element. He eventually spots a brown trench with a white fur around the collar, classy but also very feminine, and for one second, he smirks, satisfied.

“It seems that Name isn’t on the loose for once,” Crocodile comments, removing his own raven long jacket from his large shoulders. “It’s almost impressive.”

Daz Bonez blinks, grabbing his boss’ dark cap as this one extends it to him.

“I think it’s my duty to warn you that she doesn’t feel good for several weeks. Yet, she continually insist not to see the doctor, Sir.”

Crocodile raises an eyebrow, intrigued by his subordinate’s statement. He eventually shrugs, extracting a long cloud from his cigar. He forces himself not to care too much about this odd situation, preferring to have a long night of sleep before their next meeting tomorrow, where he’d be more able to judge her condition. However, since Daz Bonez is still staring at him with a strange light in the eyes, as if he’s waiting for a certain reaction, Crocodile exaggeratedly sighs and nods. After all, he knows that he needs to act like a boss would do, and even if this girl is particularly hard to handle, he still cares about his employes.

“I’ll take care of this tomorrow. Good night, Mister 1.”

***

Indeed, that’s what he does. After a short but restful night, Crocodile is already ready to take care of everything in the mansion. First, he needs to have a quick check on every of his business, hoping that there’s nothing alarming. Second, and also very important to him, finds out what’s wrong with his tiny secretary. It’s not in her habits to show any form of weakness, and it clearly bothers him. So Crocodile walks in the meeting room with the most determined eyes ever. His partners are already here, standing back up from their chair to greet him. Crocodile lets his gaze travelling through the entire room, surprised, but also upset, to notice that she’s not here yet. He throws a furious look at Daz Bonez, yet, his subordinate doesn’t show any kind of emotion. Frankly wrathful, Crocodile decides to start the meeting anyway, sitting on his favorite chair. He lazily grabs the papers in front of him, his boring gaze wandering on the symbols noted down there, until he eventually hears a timid knock on the door. Daz Bonez immediately reaches the entrance of the room, opening it to let her in.

“Oï, Name, you’re…,” Crocodile makes a pregnant pause, almost surprised by her complexion. She seems at the edge of fainting. “Late.”

She nods, impatiently scratching the skin of her arm, making her way quickly to her usual chair. She doesn’t bother to answer, and for once, Crocodile wishes she would open her mouth and delights him with one of her everlasting comebacks. Yet, she remains quiet, gathering the documents in front of her, avoiding Crocodile’s stare. There’s something different about her. She seems exhausted; dark circles surrounding her beautiful almond-shape eyes, her complexion almost grey, like a faded flower. He’s unconditionally sure that she has lost some weight as well, her jaw slightly hollowed, which gives her a spectral aspect. Yet, has his eyes continue their journey on her body, he spots a light swelling of her belly. He raises a curious eyebrow, unable to find a link between her disastrous features and her rounder tummy, to the point that he starts to believe she might have an aggressive form of infection. He pinches his lips, furious that she let herself go that way, and promises himself that he will drag her to the doctor right after this meeting.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s begin.” Crocodile orders, maintaining his everlasting unconcerned face, since he has a business to rule, and other problems to take care of.

However, as Daz Bonez usually acts during these meeting, offering to each of them a cup of coffee, he notices that her secretary repulses it violently, pouring the burning liquid all over the table. She presses a hand over her mouth, struggling against a powerful retching, already back on her feet. Before Crocodile could say anything, she’s already running somewhere, disappearing for the rest of the day.

***

If it’s not infectious, then what it is? Crocodile, eyes closed, his head falls back on his back chair, tries to assemble all the missing pieces of the puzzle. He feels there’s something he doesn’t understand, and this situation starts to get under his skin. It’s been three days since he’s back, and clearly, she’s not going any better. She avoids him at any cost, locked in her room as if she’s keeping the darkest secret ever. Secret. Yes, it feels more like an impossible confession she’s trying to hide. Something which would match her odd condition. The more he thinks about it, and the more he gets close to an hypothetical answer, and for once, his throat goes dry and his mind is nothing but a burning pyre. If this theory is real, then he understands why she’s suddenly wholly different, turning into a devastated ghost who has abandoned the fight. A curse she can’t take upon herself, carrying a secret not only in her mind, but also in her belly.

Crocodile stands back up, slamming his glass of whisky on his wooden desk. There’s no any other possibility; no other option. Every single signs of an early pregnancy are here, and if it’s real, then he needs to muster up his courage and talk to her. He knows her enough to understand that she plans for her departure. She’s ashamed, unsure, terrified at the idea to carry his child. She doesn’t love him, or at least, this is what she tries to believe. To despite him is her only way to find the courage to leave his house, disappearing somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find her. Yet, Crocodile can’t really figure out what are his own emotions at the moment. She has been reckless, once again, ignoring all the risks to have him in her bed, moaning under his touch as she wasn’t fully protected. He’s furious, towards her, but also against himself ; all those years of manipulation to end up with a bastard in a secretary’s tummy, what was he thinking about, really?!

Bastard? Crocodile freezes, mortified by his own thought. Clearly, this is not a bastard that she’s carrying. This is the unexpected fruit of two lovers who certainly have been imprudent, but have somehow loved each other, at least that’s what he hopes for. He pinches his lips, pushing his fist and his hook down on the table, bending his chest, like he suddenly feels his torso becoming tighter. What should he do, now? What is his role in all of this? Crocodile sighs, his eyes brushing the papers in front of him as her name appears on every of them. He knows what he has to do. He needs to act like a man.

***

The room is plunged into the darkness. There’s only a couple of candles lighting the bedside table which offers a timid clarity for his eyes. He hears a soft and deep breathing coming from the bed, and for a second, it reassures him ; she’s not gone. She’s profoundly asleep, hunched into a foetal position, her sleep apparently broken. She’s mumbling a few words, and Crocodile finds her a bit pitiful like this. He hesitates for a second, but then, he decides that it’s more than time to have this little talk together. Tomorrow, she might be gone, and he can’t bear the idea to lose her because he couldn’t put aside his pride for once. He first removes his golden hook, not particularly enjoying the sensation of his missing limb on the mattress, but he doesn’t want to hurt her, if she would ever try to get away from his grip ; and he knows her enough to believe this is a thing she might do. Beside Daz Bonez, she’s the only one who has ever seen his handless arm, and somehow he hopes that it would be a proof of his benevolence, and that he came here metaphorically unarmed and without any design to harm her. Once he’s eventually ready, he slides himself into the sheets, still entirely dressed, careful not to wake her up. For a moment, he remains still, simply lied on the silken sheets, his eyes watching her closely. She’s far for being peaceful, even in her deepest sleep. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and for some reasons, she presses her tiny hand directly on her swollen tummy. He slides himself closer, spooning her gently, his massive arm curled around her waist, until she eventually breathes more vividly, her eyes wide opened.

“Easy,” Crocodile whispers, feeling how tensed her body is against him.

She doesn’t even turn her head, preferring to remain mute. Her fingers scratches the skin of his arm, desperately intimating him the order to go away. Yet, he doesn’t obey, his digits suddenly spreaded wide open to cup her entire belly, pressing it gently to feel that specific hardness he’s looking for. His heart pumps strongly against his chest, like it would cross this muscle barrier to explode in the tensed atmosphere. She’s now shaking, her whole body wilted under his touch, her face flushed against the pillow. When he finally finds the courage to caress her rounder belly, he hears a plea coming from her mouth, something desolate and almost unbearable to handle. He presses his lips against her forehead, somehow hoping it would cure her wounded heart, but all she does is flinch.

“Crocodile… I can explain myself,” she tries, her voice struggling to break the barrier of her lips.

“Sssh, don’t talk.” Crocodile snaps with a severe voice.

It almost sounds like one of his numerous emotionless orders, and he curses himself for being such a cold man at the moment. Yet, he still doesn’t know how to react. Feeling this tensed body against him, but also this roundness under his large palm, bring many emotions in his dry heart. He usually always knows what to do, how to deal with emergencies and unexpected situations. But this? This requires so many change. He has never truly desired a family of his own, his business way too dangerous and time-consuming to have another useless burden. However, here and now, as he presses his torso against her small body, circling not only one, but two lives, he feels different. He feels finally as a whole. No more missing parts. No more everlasting conquests around the world. Everything he craves is right under his palm, not entirely alive, but already present, peacefully growing into the womb of a woman he has once despised. What an unexpected twist of fate. He can’t help but let lose a soft laugh behind her ears, setting ablazed her curiosity, but also her anger.

“There’s nothing funny about it, Crocodile!” She finally snaps, rolling on her hips to eventually face him.

So there she is. For a few days he has thought that she wouldn’t ever be back at her true self. Yet, her fierce look is still present, gazing at him through the darkness of the room. He grins, wildly, his old habits coming back as he softly cups her jaw, putting a strand of her long hair behind her ear.

“There you are, untamable creature,” he greets teasingly, vivified by her furious features. “I’m not mocking you, Name. We need to talk about it, though. It’s a serious matter.”

He sighs loudly as he loses his smile, his gaze travelling through her tired face for a moment, before he eventually points at her covered tummy, the roundness slightly noticeable under her short night dress. She bites her bottom lip and looks down, her nose digging a bit more into her pillow, as she presses a timid hand on her belly, as if she’s not entirely ready to accept this situation. She looks weak, almost like a child, yet he still can feel this wild strength emanating from her every movements. She’s lost, but she’s still fighting, and somehow, this is something he has always loved about her. She eventually gathers her courage, putting her elbow on the pillow to lift her chin, her face resting on the palm of her hand, as she faces Crocodile, her deep worried eyes digging in his impassive stare.

“I’m listening.” She says severely, her eyes serious.

He slightly grins, trying his hardest not to make a comment about her situation, remembering her that she’s still his secretary. But then, as he thinks about it, Crocodile furrowed his eyebrows, adopting a colder face.

“I figured out that you’re carrying my child,” he begins, his voice low and deep. “This is something reckless. I don’t want a family. I’ve never wanted one. You may understand that I’m concerned, but also disappointed,” he states, watching her eyes remaining still, yet full of anger and tears. “I’ve never wanted to have a family because I’m a businessman, and I have no use of it. I don’t want any burden in my path, and bringing children in my outlawed business is nothing but a stupid idea. And you must know that I despise stupid matter. I don’t have time for this, Name.”

She rolls up her lips like a wild animal, her gaze nothing but a ravenous fire, preparing herself to answer to this insult. Yet, he lifts one ringed finger, keeping this patronizing face.

“No, let me finish. You’ll have all the time of the world to let me know your deepest thoughts about the situation, but for now, you listen to me, and you do it quietly.” Crocodile orders, his hand firmly grabbing her shoulder, until she eventually bites her lips and allows him to continue. “All of this, what I’ve just said, this was my prepared speech for the past few days. I may be harsh, and sometimes severe with you, yet I’m still not a liar.”

She blinks, unable to understand what is his point. He remains silent, his gaze travelling through her body to eventually digs in her eyes. His hand on her shoulder moves slowly, coming up to cup her jaw, his thumb fondling her cheek.

“I don’t want you to go,” He simply states, his voice slightly tender than usual.

“But…,”

“If you go, you better be sure that I’ll use all the necessary means to find you, and bring you back here.”

“This is not your choice…,”

“It is,” he says more loudly, almost like a cry from his heart. “You’re the mother of my heir. Do you really believe that I would let you run away, Name? So I…,” he marks a pregnant pause, closes his eyes for a second, and lets out what he couldn’t say before. “I beg you to stay.”

She freezes at the last sentence, tears falling quietly on her cheek, his thumb gently wiping them. Her lips are trembling, her vision blurry, her whole body shaking under his touch. Crocodile doesn’t want to be harsh anymore. He moves his hips forwards, to bring his body closer, until he has a better access to her waist, pulling her against his chest. She doesn’t protest, her face finding its favorite place in the crock of his neck, her hands gripping the edge of his collar, humming his manly scent she deeply enjoys. She finally allows herself to let go all of her anxious feelings, her voice echoing in the room as she cries loudly, sometimes hiccuping between two breathing. He kisses her forehead, putting his jaw against her hair as his hands cautiously fondle her back.

“It’s alright.” Crocodile simply whispers, unable to find any other words tonight.

He doesn’t know if this situation is alright, but he believes for sure that she needs to remain by his side. He craves to tell her that he wants her to be the mother of his child. That his heart is pumping furiously against his chest. He wishes he has the courage to say that he’s terrified to become a father, but also profoundly sorry to inflict her such a heavy burden. However Crocodile is a proud man, and silence is his better option. At least, it is for tonight, as he makes her roll her hips, spooning her delicately, his large ringed hand finding its way back to the roundness of her tummy, where their most beautiful secret is peacefully growing.

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece scenarios #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #sir crocodile scenario #one piece headers #one piece imagine #one piece hc #one piece hcs

175 notes · View notes

ginmo · 6 years ago

Text

You're not delusional for entertaining the possibility of Brienne as YMB

“If you think anyone but [Insert Queen, most commonly Dany] is the YMB then you’re delusional” is something I have seen quite frequently, so I’ve been inspired to explain why that’s uh...well, complete bullshit.

To be delusional, you need to be spewing garbage without any reason or support and lack any sense of reality. But… there is plenty of evidence and reasoning, based in reality, to simply entertain a theory that isn’t [Insert Easy Choice].

Let me state that I'm not saying with total confidence that Brienne is YMB. I am not saying she is or is not. My claim is that Brienne is a perfectly logical candidate, and that being completely sold on a traditional choice, to the point where you’re publicly making asshole cocky comments about it, is risky af. I’m tired of people shutting down any discussion of it.

This is GRRM. This isn’t supposed to be easy (he literally said this, as shown below). There should be multiple interpretations to this prophecy. People who think it’s Brienne or Sansa or Marg or whoever may be wrong, or people who think it’s Daenerys may be wrong. Or maybe this is supposed to be ambiguous and we’ll never get a definitive answer. Maybe it’s multiple people. It all depends on what angle GRRM is going with. He could be going very literal and traditional with this, sure. Or, he could be going a more poetic route, which is also a style of his writing. Obviously by this post, I prefer the latter, but I see different angles. I’m not going to pretend I’m psychic by claiming I’m right and you’re wrong, and I’m not going misuse the word delusional. If you come after me later with, “LOL I TOLD YOU SO” I’m just going to say you missed the entire point of my post and my point is still 100% valid.

SO. Here is why you all have NO RIGHT to a) be so damn confident in your traditional choices and b) put down others for entertaining Brienne.

Hang on tight. This is long as fuck. First, you need to promise me you’ll do two things.

My two rules:

Consider authorial intent when thinking about meaning and trajectory and

Step outside the bubble and look at this story from a professional angle. A good narrative written by a professional author has structure and purpose.

Before I properly dive into this, let’s see what GRRM has to say about prophecies:

Prophecies are, you know, a double edge sword. You have to handle them very carefully; I mean, they can add depth and interest to a book, but you don’t want to be too literal or too easy…

I mean…. That should be enough to shake your confidence. He even gives an example.

In the Wars of the Roses, that you mentioned, there was one Lord who had been prophesied he would die beneath the walls of a certain castle and he was superstitious at that sort of walls, so he never came anywhere near that castle. He stayed thousands of leagues away from that particular castle because of the prophecy. However, he was killed in the first battle of St. Paul de Vence and when they found him dead he was outside of an inn whose sign was the picture of that castle! [Laughs] So you know? That’s the way prophecies come true in unexpected ways. The more you try to avoid them, the more you are making them true, and I make a little fun with that.

So you always want to frustrate our expectations, am I right?

Yes, it was always my intention: to play with the reader’s expectations. Before I was a writer I was a voracious reader and I am still, and I have read many, many books with very predictable plots. As a reader, what I seek is a book that delights and surprises me. - GRRM

A physically beautiful Queen, or physical beauty in general, would essentially be the Lord being correct of his fate and dying in that castle. The Lord expected to die in that castle. Cersei’s only expectation to YMB is to be “cast down and take all you hold dear” by a literal beauty, literal Queen. That is obviously the reader’s expectation as well. Hello fandom! Cersei doesn’t know who this literal beauty/literal Queen is. She constantly obsesses over WHO, but is always wrong, maybe because it isn’t surface level obvious and it’s her incorrect interpretation, just like lord’s interpretation was wrong. He didn’t die in a literal castle.

See, I’m obviously so delusional for thinking GRRM might be doing, um… exactly what he said? There’s nothing from reality to support an idea that GRRM may not go the easy, literal route. There’s absolutely no reason for me to think this may not be so simple.

….

-__-

Right.

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

-Younger, More Beautiful-

Brienne is a possible candidate for the YMB.

...it was always my intention: to play with the reader’s expectations.

For both Cersei and the readers (again hello Freefolk, Twitter, Tumblr), Brienne as the unexpected YMB is a twist to the literal interpretation, fitting GRRM’s idea on how prophecies should be written.

“But everything that has happened about the prophecy was literal so duh this has to be literal!”

The literal parts of the prophecy were marrying the King and the number of children she’ll have. Yeah… there isn’t anything subjective to that, so it’s not surprising that it’s straightforward. She asked a question, Maggy gave her an answer. Besides the part with the children dying, the bit we’re talking about was stuff Maggy added in. Also, is there like a prophecy rule book somewhere I’m not aware of? Maybe consider that we got easy literal bits mixed in so we (and Cersei) are misdirected by the actual focus? Maybe consider that it’s possible for a prophecy to have some literal elements and some not? Maybe consider that a way more subjective (-cough-beauty-cough-) part of the prophecy isn’t as straightforward?

Moving on.

“Aye.” Malice gleamed in Maggy’s yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”- CERSEI VIII, AFFC

It’s common to see “younger more beautiful QUEEN” (YMBQ) floating around fandom. Technically, Maggy never says the person is a Queen, whether literal or symbolic. She says “another.” An equally valid interpretation of that can be, “someone else who is younger and more beautiful than you.”

“Um no, it definitely implies a Queen because the words after and because of the context.”

If you really want to argue that GRRM definitely implies Queen, well, here’s something to chew on.

I’m not going to describe how Brienne’s arc is definitely not ending as her being someone’s bodyguard for the rest of her life. That’s for another time. But that doesn’t even matter really, because it has been made intentionally clear that Brienne is her father’s only heir. Once Brienne’s father dies, even if she’s still active on the battlefield, someone’s bodyguard, or still fucking off somewhere, she will still technically be the Evenstar.

- The Evenstar -

The Evenstar was a title given to the Tarth Kings. That title is still used. Why? It’s interesting to think that GRRM gave random minor House Tarth a specific title used for Kings, and that he allowed the House to continue using that title. Because he created that title for that House and allowed them to keep it, that title becomes symbolic of their previous kingdom. This is similar to our real world where some nations or groups retain titles from their history as more of a symbol. Selwyn Tarth is still known as the Evenstar. Selwyn Tarth is a symbolic King. When he dies (which will probably happen soon), Brienne automatically inherits that title, making her a symbolic Queen. And we all know how much GRRM loves symbolic meaning.

“I still think it’s a LITERAL Queen.”

I mean, a possible theory is that the throne will be destroyed at the end of this and the realm will split back into separate kingdoms. Sooo, if that happens……………………….

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

- What does Maggy mean by beautiful?-

I have a really hard time believing that GRRM wants everyone to sit down and argue over who is physically more beautiful between his characters. In every story there are themes explored and messages woven within, so each character with an arc is going to have themes and messages associate with them. One of the themes being explored with Cersei is beauty. (This theme is explored through both Jaime’s and Brienne’s arcs as well, which isn’t a coincidence.)

Cersei’s interpretation of beauty lies on the exterior This is an element of her narcissism (word by GRRM).

(“Cersei isn’t narcissistic????”

You can argue, well, does she genuinely love her children, or does she just love them because they’re her children? There’s certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei. She has an almost sociopathic view of the world and civilization. - GRRM

Don’t even go there)

In her eyes, a person’s worth is tied to how physically attractive they are. She is obsessed over being beautiful, and her twin being beautiful. Her attitude towards her twin changes when he returns handless. Cersei’s interpretation of the prophecy is that she will be cast down by a physical beauty, which is why she goes after Margaery (Dany most likely later on/Dany in the show). But remember this?

you don’t want to be too literal or too easy

It’s possible GRRM isn’t talking about physical beauty here. a) too literal and b) Cersei is being taught a lesson, and the readers are being sent a message. Like, you know… what good quality literature does. This is important to understand. Maggy probably realizes this about Cersei (like any classic Beauty and the Beast Witch), thus fulfilling the prophecy on her own, her own downfall being caused by her inability to recognize power with inner beauty.

“But Cersei is bringing her own downfall by obsessively trying to avoid the prophecy. As GRRM said, ‘The more you try to avoid them, the more you are making them true.”

And by obsessively going after her interpretation of what beauty is, she’s missing what’s right in front of her face.

“He took Raventree and accepted Lord Blackwood’s surrender,” said her uncle, “but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

“A woman?” Cersei stared at him, uncomprehending. “What woman? Why? Where did they go?”

“No one knows. We’ve had no further word of him. The woman may have been the Evenstar’s daughter, Lady Brienne.”

Her. The queen remembered the Maid of Tarth, a huge, ugly, shambling thing who dressed in man’s mail. Jaime would never abandon me for such a creature. My raven never reached him, elsewise he would have come.

- CERSEI I, ADWD

I mean… this right here, imo, is pretty significant, but it’s frequently ignored.

We see Cersei feeling a bit threatened by her rapid fire questioning of what, why, and where.

She places emphasis on Brienne’s looks.

The use of Her. That’s rather strong. GRRM could have taken “Her” out and started her thoughts with, “The queen remembered” but there’s something forceful - as if making a point- to use Her. GRRM also made sure the readers knew that Cersei knows of this woman, and knows what she looks like. From a narrative standpoint, if Brienne’s inner beauty contrasting her outward appearance isn’t an important element in the downfall of Cersei, then there’s literally no reason why Cersei needed to have seen Brienne before. Remember my rules? Yeah, apply them to this one.

“Er, Brienne’s appearance is mentioned so that Cersei knows to not be jealous.”

…I think, “Jaime would never abandon me for such a creature” is basically saying “LOL well he did.” It’s GRRM telling Cersei, and the readers, that her answer is right there, right under her fucking nose, but she’s too dense and superficial to see it, which is the point of the Brienne theory.

“It’s there just to show that Brienne is taking Jaime away even though she’s ugly, but it has nothing to do with YMB.”

Yes, that is also the point. Again, an interpretation of a key message of the prophecy is that beauty isn’t literal, and beauty lies within. If we’re looking at the prophecy as a lesson to both the readers and Cersei, similar to The Witch in Beauty and the Beast - a tale and theme GRRM has been confirmed writing, then… why wouldn’t that be connected? “Brienne the Beauty” is literally the only character to challenge Cersei’s superficial perceptions, and the only one who has been set up to do so. In other words, for this particular theory, narcissism and superficiality drives Cersei’s downfall.

Also, I find it curious that instead of saying, “Lord Selwyn Tarth’s daughter, Lady Brienne” which would have been way more straightforward and which he could have easily done, GRRM instead used his other title, “the Evenstar’s daughter” which basically translates to, “the Princess.” A possible nod to the future Evenstar, the future symbolic (or even potentially literal) Queen, if Cersei and readers want to interpret the person as a Queen.

Reminder: that’s a fact. Not wishful thinking. Regardless of what Brienne is doing or where she is, she will literally inherit the title the Evenstar.

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

- Brienne the Beauty -

BRIENNE IS AN INNER BEAUTY. This has been intentional and made crystal clear over and over. Brienne is the Beastly Beauty. A… beauty who gives a lesson by challenging Cersei’s perception of beauty and…. She is intentionally written as younger and….. she will have a title that’s a symbolic Queen and… her story is tied to Cersei��s lover? :O

Look, it’s no secret that one of GRRM’s favorite narratives is Beauty and the Beast. As mentioned above, he is writing an adaptation of Beauty and the Beast.

George R.R. Martin said what he wanted to do was to take the traditional format of Beauty and the Beast and change the roles — and also the genders. - Gwendoline Christie

[GRRM] also said that when he wrote the story of Jaime and Brienne, he was taking the formula of Beauty and the Beast and turning it on its head. He wanted to see what it was like for the man to be the beauty and the woman to be the beast and how that would play out. - Gwendoline Christie

I spoke to George R.R. Martin about this, and he said that it was always his intention with Jaime and Brienne to take the classic Beauty and the Beast story, and turn it on its head. Brienne is not ‘unconventionally attractive’, she’s ugly, and she’s ugly to society. She is the beast.- Gwendoline Christie

He’s taking the traditional format (a romance) and switching the genders and roles. The entire point of BatB is to destroy the idea that love and beauty are determined by superficial qualities.

Guys again, I’m so delusional. There is nothing to see here. None of this is from anything real.

“But that’s just for Jaime.”

There can be other characters in a Beauty and the Beast adaptation. It’s an adaptation, not word for word. Other characters can be used to deliver the message, especially if the character is uh… linked to and romantically involved with one of the BatB inspired characters. For example, in the Disney adaptation we have Gaston (who… now that I think about it, actually has a similar Cersei way of thinking, ngl lol).

Brienne is the one character who has the actual name of Beauty associated with her. She is Cersei’s opposite. Brienne is the epitome of what Cersei cannot understand. A theme explored through Cersei is beauty, which is a theme that’s heavily explored through Brienne as well. Brienne’s character has been shaped around rejection due to her appearance. Literally every page in her POV is about how ugly and undesirable she is. Therefore, it’s very possible their characters are connected by a shared beauty theme.

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

- The Prophecy -

Okay, the rest of this stupid thing for YMB. Here we go.

”Will I wed the prince?” she asked.

“Never. You will wed the king.”

Beneath her golden curls, the girl’s face wrinkled up in puzzlement. For years after, she took those words to mean that she would marry Rhaegar until after his father Aerys had died.

GRRM straight up telling the readers that Cersei interprets this shit incorrectly.

”I will be queen, though?” asked the younger her.

“Aye.” Malice gleamed in Maggy’s yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.

“But ginmo, -sigh-, Cersei doesn’t hold Jaime most dear. The thing she holds most dear is power.”

Is she not always jealous and bitter over how Jaime is born to be heir and she is not? Does Jaime not represent the Lannister legacy she craves? Does Ms. “my brother is worth a thousand of your men” not lose any amount of power if Jaime stops doing what she wants? Is Jaime’s identity shift not influenced by Brienne the Beauty? Where is Jaime in both books and show? Couldn’t Brienne’s influence on Jaime mean Cersei loses power, a lover, her legacy? Jaime is power.

And then, again, there is also the straightforward route with the Kingdom splitting up possibility and Brienne the Evenstar….

Then we get this perfect little nugget.

Anger flashed across the child’s face. “If she tries I will have my brother kill her.”

I WILL HAVE MY BROTHER KILL HER I’M DYING. This is something that is repeated TWICE. Here in the prophecy and later in the chapter when she’s talking to Qyburn about the prophecy.

”...another queen, who would take from me all I loved.”

“And you wish to forestall this prophecy?”

More than anything, she thought. Even in the tent. “If she tries I will have my brother kill her.”

This is another moment to apply my two rules. There is literally no point to this being thrown in there if Jaime is not connected to the YMB, and definitely no point to emphasize a second time that she’d have her brother kill her. The words are not, “I will have her killed,” which could have left it ambiguous and easily been done. No, she (which is GRRM) specifically uses “my brother will kill her.” The irony is that, JAIME IS IN LOVE WITH HER. HE’S IN LOVE WITH THE BEAUTY.

“No, the irony is that by that time Jaime won’t listen anymore to her.”

I mean, that’s possible obvioiusly, but… yawn? That has practically zero emotional weight attached to it. I personally lean more towards this being a massive hint, that Jaime is the LAST person to kill the YMB, because he lost his heart to her, which makes it so delicious and juicy. GRRM is essentially having a massive evil laughing fit.

Another small note, during the Maggy the Frog scene, after delivering the YMB message to Cersei, Melara asks if she’ll marry Jaime. When they leave, Cersei kills Melara for wishing to marry Jaime, which is GRRM telling the readers that Jaime most certainly represents something Cersei holds dear, or else she wouldn’t be killing her. It’s not a coincidence this was right after she learned about the YMB.

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

- Cersei is her own downfall -

The more you try to avoid them, the more you are making them true

In the show Cersei is threatened by Dany as YMB (since it’s possible she incorrectly interpreted the prophecy, wow what a concept that’s not possible at all). This was made clear by the script notes. Apply my rules here as well.

But what’s the meaning of Cersei being taken down by a physical beauty? That just… proves her right? That would be the Lord dying in the literal castle? It just supports Cersei’s superficial world view by sending absolutely no message to her character? From a narrative standpoint, there’s no point to have YMB be a literal beauty. Again, is it possible he’s going the literal route? YES. But considering GRRM implements a ton of metaphor and symbolic meaning in his work, that he literally said he’s writing a BatB narrative so Beauty Within is definitely present, and he straight up said he doesn’t like his prophecies to be entirely literal, I’m going to at least have fun and entertain the non-surface level interpretation, and I’m therefore not delusional for doing so.

And since Cersei is bringing her own downfall, how would Dany even fit? Dany would have been going after that throne regardless of whoever’s ass was sitting on it. Dany’s pursuit of the throne has absolutely nothing to Cersei, and everything to do with what she believes is her right. My point is, if Cersei’s butt wasn’t there, Dany would still be doing exactly what she’s doing. So how is Dany taking the throne a consequence of Cersei bringing it upon herself? Cersei and Dany are completely separate from one another. Even if AU Cersei was nice to all of her allies and Jaime, Ned knew the identity of her children, and therefore a fractured Westeros would still exist. She wouldn’t have had enough men to fight off Dany. None of that really matters anyway, because Daenerys still would have converted Houses through the use of her dragons. In the show, it’s been made clear that she thinks it’s now Dany so...… going back to my points outlined above, if she thinks it’s Dany, maybe it’s possible she’s wrong.

You know the one character Cersei will NEVER see as a threat, due to her narcissistic inability? Brienne the Beauty.

(Also for show!Cersei, I love how fandom is like “Valonqar can’t be Tyrion because Cersei thinks it’s Tyrion” and then in the same breath they go, “DO YOU SEE? Cersei thinks Daenerys is the YMB so it’s Daenerys!”..................................................... Like I said, GRRM and D&D could be going that way, but to use that logic is just…… what)

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

-Book Structure-

Hey did you guys know that there’s actually thought and technique that goes into the formatting and structure of a book, especially a book series? That the structure of chapters and the format aren’t just randomly thrown together? DEFINITELY apply my two rules here.

When was this prophecy introduced? AFFC, the book Cersei AND Brienne conveniently got a POV, the book that is mostly Jaime, Cersei, and Brienne centric. Who has a POV chapter immediately after Cersei’s prophecy? Brienne. Why is it structured this way? Was it random that the book was mostly a Lannister twin + Brienne book? No...

What can that possibly imply?

The main story running through each of those characters is the same. In other words, those three are connected to the same subplot - BatB- and are therefore connected through the same themes.

POSSIBLE? Yes.

DELUSIONAL? No.

Also my favorite. Look at this chapter ending. LOOK AT IT. Feel the dramatic pause. DO YOU CLAIM THIS IS RANDOM?

I dare you tell me that there is no thought that goes into a chapter end.

I dare you to tell me that the Cersei chapter following is meaningless, like the structure of a book doesn’t go through an editing process, that chapter ends aren’t significant and the structures aren’t another element in the story telling process.

I dare you to tell me that “Brienne the Beauty” weren’t words intentionally chosen by a professional author.

We first hear about “younger, more beautiful” in CERSEI III - AFFC, and then Brienne is referred to as, “Brienne the Beauty” shortly after in BRIENNE III - AFFC. The only other time Brienne's nickname of “Brienne the Beauty” was mentioned was when Catelyn made note of it. It wasn’t in ASOS when there were plenty of opportunities, and it only came up again (...four times) right after Cersei thinks about YMB for the first time.

yEAH GUYS, DElUSIOnAL, wHat IS naRraTive StrUcTuRe AnD pROfESsIONAL fOrMAtTiNG? nOt rEaL LMFAO bRiEnNe’s nOt pOsSIbLe aT aLL

#jaime x brienne #brienne of tarth #jaime lannister #younger more beautiful #ymb #maggy the frog #long post #morons were my muse

468 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-shipper-20 · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 - Swan Queen

The following morning, Regina was awake first and already dressing by the time Emma awoke. “Are you sure you can’t stay home today?” Emma questioned as she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Regina zipped up her dress. “For starters, Miss Swan, you can stop undressing me with your eyes. Secondly, I still have to work. Just because I’m Mayor doesn’t mean all the paperwork magically disappears” Regina sighed as she threw a look over her shoulder. “At least come and enjoy breakfast with me, I’ll even cook” Emma smirked as she stretched her way out of bed. “One of these days, Miss Swan, you’ll be the death of me” Regina chuckled as she rolled her eyes at Emma’s antics but kissed her nonetheless before heading down to her office. Emma sighed as she pulled herself together, today she would be filing for divorce. Regina had said that Emma didn’t have to rush into divorcing the handless wonder since he was still four-hundred and fifty miles away in New York but Emma knew that if she didn’t do it today she may never do it. “Regina, I’m heading into town, did you want me to bring you back any lunch?” Emma huffed as she shrugged on her red leather jacket. “Bring me anything, I haven’t even thought about lunch yet” Regina hummed as she signed her hundredth document in the hour. “Alright, I shouldn’t be too long.” Emma grumbled as she leant over the desk and kissed Regina on the cheek. On her way to the Attorney’s office, Emma popped in to see her parents, it was to be a short visit, grab a shower and a clean change of clothes she hadn’t expected an interrogation. “I take it, it went well then” Snow chuckled as she caught Emma rummage through a suitcase that she kept for emergencies. “Jesus Mom! Did you have to sneak up on me like that?!” Emma squealed her hand immediately going to her chest. “It’s not our fault you decided to do the walk of shame just for a clean set of clothes” David pointed out as he handed Neal over to Snow. “I guess there’s no secrets in this family” Emma groaned as she sat on the floor by the suitcase. “Going by your flushed cheeks there’s no secrets between you and Regina anymore” Snow laughed as David helped Emma off of the floor and onto a chair. “I wanted to clean up before I headed to the Attorney’s office to send the divorce papers to Killian.” Emma sighed as she fiddled with the hem of the shirt she had picked out. “Are you having second thoughts about divorcing Hook?” David questioned as he crouched beside her, taking her hands in his. “No. I certainly think it’s for the best. It’s just, well, Regina has effectively asked me to move in with her so that you and Mom aren’t crowded with me being here.” Emma admitted as she put her head into her hands. “So soon? But you’ve only just admitted that you love each other!” Snow squeaked as she popped her head around the doorframe. “Jesus Mom! There’s more than one room in the house” Emma grumbled as she rubbed her temples. “I think what your mom’s trying to say is that you’re more than welcome to stay with us, we’re your parents.” David huffed as he shot a glare at his wife. “I agree with Regina though, Dad. You and Mom have enough on your hands with Neal. I know you didn’t get to raise me so that’s why I think you should spend every minute with him.” Emma smiled softly as she stood up, keeping hold of the shirt. “Emma-.” Snow tried as she watched her daughter’s movements. “Mom, I’m fine. I’ll get Killian to box up my stuff and send it here. I love Regina, I feel happier with Regina and I feel safer with Regina” Emma laughed as she walked into the bathroom to change. Shrugging on Regina’s shirt that she never returned followed by her red leather jacket and headed down to the Attorney’s office. Regina stared at the paperwork before her and groaned it was going to take her all week at this rate. She was about to get back to work when Emma walked in carrying a Kale salad from Granny’s and two root beers. “Are you alright?” Regina questioned as she took one of the root beers from Emma. “Fine.” Emma huffed as her back hit one of the chairs. “It doesn’t seem fine, Emma. Before you start I’m only asking because I care” Regina hummed as she cracked open the root beer. “I got ambushed with an interrogation at Mom and Dad’s” Emma shrugged as she popped a slice of cucumber in her mouth. “The Charming’s are doing interrogations now?” Regina asked her curiosity now evident. “Please don’t Regina. I just want to have a nice peaceful evening with you and a couple bottles of proper beer” Emma groaned as she leaned back in the chair. “That’s my girl” Regina chuckled as she sipped on her root beer a twinkle in her eyes.

#OUAT #Swan Queen #Crowning Glory Series

1 note · View note

hookaroo · 6 years ago

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (36 of 42?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

The terrible, grating screech of the church's crooked door negated any chance of sneaking in unnoticed, but Jones somehow doubted that stealth was ever Emma's intent. She stormed into the cathedral, yanking her arm from his pretend grip, unraveling the ropes in an explosion of uncontained fury.

"Get away from him, you bastard!!"

Jones caught a brief glimpse of an enormous hulking figure near the opposite end of the sanctuary, its hunched bulk dappled with tinted sunlight, but then his attention turned to a more pressing matter: the group of guard slaves clambering to their feet along either wall. He drew his stun gun and took aim. He could not worry about Emma now; his only chance of helping would be to watch her back.

The continuous ache from his injured sternum grew ever sharper with each squeeze of the trigger; in fact, it seemed to be radiating gradually upward in bursts, like the pulse of blood through his veins. He ignored it and sought a way to blockade themselves inside, to keep out further foes until the Master could be subdued. He heard Emma's gun roaring as she stalked down the center aisle, apparently willing to gamble that Killian would not be struck by a stray bullet.

Another stunned slave went down hard near a tipped pew. Jones bent to grasp the seat, prepared to drag the entire bench in front of the door. They had all the makings of a respectable barricade, if he could only…

His hand flew to his chest with the first pull as massive, crushing pain accompanied the effort, leaving him staggered and breathless, feeling exactly where he'd been three years ago, when the poison in his heart was at its strongest. But that couldn't be... he was cured... it was impossible for…

KNEEL.

The detective found himself on his knees even before the voice had finished reverberating through his mind. He shook his head, disoriented and still clutching his chest. The Master... it was coming... and he had to…

More grim slaves marched through the door, and Jones meant to stun them, but found he could not raise his gun.

He really ought to warn Emma.

NO.

He didn't. Couldn't.

The sheriff put up a good struggle but was quickly overwhelmed.

So was he, unnecessarily. Fellow slaves surrounded him. Not touching, knowing he was as good as bound, there on his knees with his Master's will pressing down.

Emma snarled, a wild sound of pure frustration. The beast on the dais rose and swiveled to face the intruders. Behind it, partially obscured by gnarled crab legs and writhing tentacles, slumped Killian, ashen and still.

The Master, despite an obvious bullet wound through its shoulder, exuded calm. It smiled coldly.

"Sheriff. And Tripod the Second. I've been waiting for this day." It used a handkerchief to clean ominously human-looking blood from its long fingers as it took a step closer. Emma started cussing the monster out; without emotion, it waved a mild hand and the nearest slave drove a fist into her middle. She reeled, silenced, the wind driven from her lungs.

A conflicted Jones knew he ought to take action but could not rise to his feet. No hands held him down; he was being restrained by an invisible force equally as effective. He found himself staring up into the Master's beady eyes. It leered down at him, and it seemed as if it were directly in front of him, not 15 yards away.

"This other human, the one who shares your face... he is a special favorite of mine," said the Master, glancing back at what very well could be Killian's corpse. "I've been... rather rough with him. I'm afraid I may have used him all up."

It scuttled down the steps, stopped briefly in front of Emma, and said,

"I have enjoyed watching you, Sheriff. Your desperation. I don't normally get much pleasure from female Voices... but yours may be an exception."

Still out of breath, Emma nevertheless took the opportunity to tell the Master exactly where it should go. Its only response was a condescending pat on the head before it moved away.

The searing cramp in Jones' chest grew in intensity, and the small part of his mind that had so far evaded the Master's control wondered if he might be suffering an actual heart attack. In response to the stress of the situation, or the terror of what awaited him now that their plan had failed. He cringed back slightly as the monster neared, then heard the commanding voice again.

GIVE YOURSELF.

He froze, trembling. The Vocivore stopped a few feet away. A tentacle slithered out from beneath its waistcoat and traced the healing gash on his cheek, prompting a flinch that would not come. Absently scratching at its torso, the Master continued exploring its new prize.

"Thus far, you taste much the same, my three-legged one."

SLAVE.

The tentacle snaked its way down his front, past the bandaged torso, lower, lower, until it found the bottom hem of the borrowed slave costume. It curled upward again, lost from view, and for an instant, his Master took on Mother Gothel’s face, her cold leer smothering him in disdain as she held him with her dark power.

"I am inclined to allow myself a more thorough introduction.” The voice and face gradually resolved back into the five-eyed monster, and the tentacle slipped away with obvious reluctance. “But perhaps I should save you for a day when I'm missing my first Tripod..."

It pressed a claw to a violet stain in its clothing, looking vaguely miffed. "On the other hand, I do have need of extra energy just now. You can thank your sheriff friend over there while you scream for me, hmm?"

"Yes... Master..." came the strangled response, and Jones was hauled to his feet. He realized he still held the stun gun, and felt a sudden shame for having launched an attack on his Master. With eyes downcast, he offered the weapon to the imposing figure before him, who took it without a word. Its tentacle slithered down to Jones' handless wrist and curled around the fake ring there.

"Not a bad deception. But did you truly believe I would not sense your approach?"

"We..."

Jones trailed off. What had they been thinking? Why didn't they plan to immediately surrender themselves? In fact, what was the whole United Realms doing, plotting against their rightful Master? "I... I don't..."

He reached up to massage his eyes and found tears there. His chest throbbed fiercely; it was growing more and more difficult to breathe. His Master yanked suddenly on the coat hanger replica, which yielded easily, sliding free of the bandage holding it in place. A pincer joined the tentacle in exploration, gripping the cut end to bend the thin metal out of shape.

"I've lost my assistant, the one who designed and placed the original stake-and-ring restraint in your counterpart over there. But it appears he won't need it for much longer. I'm sure we can arrange for you to inherit it."

Revulsion and fear crashed over him, followed immediately by more shame. His Master knew best.

The Vocivore smiled, still rubbing at some invisible annoyance beneath the bloodstained breast pocket of its waistcoat. "For now, though... well… I was promised a scream."

It opened its pincer, revealing the now-straightened coat hanger entwined in its tentacle. A nod at the slave to Jones' right was enough to communicate its command, and the man snatched his wrist above his clenched fist and stretched his arm out toward their Master.

SCREAM FOR ME.

The jagged, cut end of the hangar snagged the skin of his upturned wrist, trailing fire as it went, until, with a quick and brutal thrust, the metal was driven into the flesh beneath his tattoo. A grunt of pained surprise accompanied the instinctive struggle, despite orders to the contrary. But it was not enough to produce a scream, even when more force was applied and the flexible metal burrowed its way further underneath the painted skin. Jones fought weakly, tense and growling, feeling the scalding, tearing trauma as several inches of foreign body deformed the subcutaneous tissue of his forearm.

Instead of continuing to enter smoothly, the metal suddenly bent at the puncture site, and the Master ceased the application of pressure. Its menacing face and jowls glistened with its own version of sweat, it was panting nearly as rapidly as Jones, and its five eyes reflected the barest hint of uneasy discomfort, but it continued to behave in a most dignified manner.

"Tripod the First was like this, to begin with. Stoic beyond reason. I should have expected no less from his duplicate."

Jones squinted his eyes open, remorse tightening his throat at the thought of having disappointed his Master. He caught a glimpse of the metal protruding from his arm and cringed, but kept silent. He heard Emma renew her efforts to escape; what was she doing? Didn't she know their Master had every right to do with them as it wished? The Vocivore, however, paid her no mind, trusting its guards to keep control. Almost carelessly, it wound the remaining length of hanger around Jones' wrist, fashioning an obscene bracelet of pain. Then it took a single step back.

Its newest slave watched through watering eyes as the monster prodded its own chest and examined the fingers that came away dry. Then it seemed to catch sight of the stun gun still hanging from its other hand, and it rotated the weapon thoughtfully back and forth, lifting it to eye level.

"Non-lethal, yes?" it remarked. Jones nodded. It took no great feat of imagination to predict what would happen next, and his adrenaline levels skyrocketed, but he stood resolute. If his Master willed it...

The muzzle came up to rest against Jones' left shoulder, just below the clavicle.

"At point-blank range?"

"I... don't know," murmured Jones, shivering. The gun pressed deeper; the Master's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Don't!" Emma pleaded, and she received a wallop to the jaw for her efforts.

I REQUIRE YOUR SCREAMS.

The startling pop of discharge preceded a red-hot surge of gunpowder. The force of the electrified projectile twisted Jones sideways and back, out of the grip of his guards. The first blaze of agony was immediately disrupted by a storm of power frying every nerve ending, contracting muscles in uncoordinated spasms and outlining his twitching form in pins and needles. The jolt to his brain restored true awareness of self, just for an instant, so that the Master became once again the enemy they fought. Its grotesque figure flickered with the same sparks swirling in Jones' vision; its voice fled his frazzled thoughts. And Jones knew he was going to die.

He struck the ground in possession of the knowledge, aware of that fact more than any other. When the charge burned itself out and shattered senses slowly gathered into regained continuity, and his diaphragm coordinated enough to resume its vital work, Jones’ thoughts turned to his daughter.

It was like an apology and a goodbye, the clarity of emotion drowning out all physical pain. Regret and yearning, loneliness and grief. He couldn’t bear to leave her, not now, not after all they’d been through… it wouldn’t be fair…

Jones’ screams, when they came, weren’t for the metal buried in his forearm or the shattered shock projectile embedded in his shoulder, but for the familiar, terrible pain in his heart.

And should anyone have chanced a look at the writhing, wounded man on the chapel floor, they may have noticed a pulsing green light shining between the fingers of his white-knuckled fist.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #whump #emma whump #restrained #mind control #puncture wound #gunshot wound #stun gun #chest pain #mention of Gothel #brief moment of non-con touching #cliffhanger #Vocivore ltd

39 notes · View notes