#you can't even rip that out of my cold dead hands.

[c00l3stb0y3v3r]

I remember @fluffydice had said "Cold Blooded Kusuo" and I just, had to go off. At least a little.

I can see his friends reacting shocked about him being so damn cold all the time, it would freak them the fuck out. At first they would try and bundle him up in blankets, sweaters, scarfs, etc etc, just so he can be warm. I'm not sure if he would tell him straight on or just say, "yeah I'm just like this, it's fine."

I can also see him being rather physically close to his friends because they're warm blooded. The students will always see Kusuo playing/touching one of his friends palm because it's warm. Maybe even hold hands and/or cuddle, depending on the friendship/relationship. Just, him being very touchy and affection after feeling comfortable enough to do so.

During the summer time, he's either at the beach or outside in shorts/short sleeves shirts. He likes the summer, a lot, and I mean, a lot. I think him and Hario would slightly be buddies during the summer, or even in winter. Hairo is very warm blooded due to the fact he works out a lot, he's like a heater. *cough* that one episode/chapter *cough*

I think Cold blooded Kusuo would be friends with Hairos, maybe Kubo too.

Also, slow heart rated Kusuo is *mwah* chefs kiss. I don't know how to explain how much I love that idea and don't even know where to began. Doctors would be worried on how low his heart rate was and, maybe when in his mother's womb, they thought he had died several times?? His friends would be freaked but since he's had since brith, maybe they'll calm down by that? Although they'll definitely still be on edge and check sometimes on Kusuos heart beat.

Also, Kusuo hearing heart beats and smell scents?? YES??? PLEASE???

Also void like eye kusuo, imagine his eyes going void like when it's dark? Fucken night vision eyes like a cat.

Talking about this post btw

[chironeis]

haha you've all fallen into my trap. everyone who liked this post now agrees that eurylochus is a cool chill dude who deserves empathy for the suffering he undergoes

I feel like the Epic the Musical fandom needs to be introduced to the concept of genre awareness. for example. eurylochus is aware that he's in a tragedy and odysseus has never been aware of anything ever

[werecreature-addicted]

I love the trope of “woman is the village’s sacrifice but the monster ends up fucking her then taking her away as his mate” He’s half mad because his little mate was tied up and left to the mercy of the elements. But he’s also so happy you were “given” to him. He can’t help but have his way with you before he even cuts you loose, but eventually he returns to his senses and carries to his lair where he wraps you in furs and soothes you.

Everyone in town knows it's you. Whatever it is that lurks in the forest wants you. The blood trail starts at the tree line and drags through the center of town. It ends at your doorstep with the dead animal.

No one knows what to make of these gifts. Some people say the monster is trying to scare you off. Others say he wants you well-fed before he eats you. Like the witch in Hansel and Grettle, he's fattening you up for the slaughter.

The townspeople blame this monster on the lack of game in the forest. Which is true enough. Then they start blaming other things on the monster. The crops rot in the ground, and the weather turns cold suddenly, that must be the monster as well. And because the beast is here for you, it must be your fault too.

They gag you so you can't scream. They blindfold you as a mercy so you won't see your death coming. Then you're tied to the trunk of a tree. You don't know how deep in the woods you are or how late at night it is. You know it's cold, you can hear the soft movements of the forest, the noises of night-time animals, and the wind in the trees.

Then, a warm breeze passes over your neck. Only it wasn't a breeze. It was breath. Then there's a tongue on your neck, hot and wet the monster tastes you. You scream, the sound muffled by the gag, and it stops.

"I should kill them for what they did to you, burn the whole town to the ground for scaring my mate," the thing growls. You're surprised. It can speak. There's a ripping sound, and you're no longer bound to the tree trunk. Then he removes the gag and finally the blindfold.

It's dark, and you can't see him clearly, but you can make out his size. His shape. Monster is the right word for him. He lifts you easily over his shoulder and takes you deep in the woods. He stops at a little den. a home. It's surprisingly cozy.

He lets you lay down in a makeshift bed, a pile of furs and soft things. He moves to your side, looming over you, running his hands over your legs, pulling them open.

"My pretty mate... you have no idea how long I've waited to take you, He says, before licking your neck again. This time, you don't scream, you shudder in pleasure. His mouth feels good, and his hands are good too.

Never did you imagine this monster would want you, but here you are, in his bed, kissing his lips, and taking his cock, like a good mate would.

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

「YANDERE VILLIAN × FEM! READER」

A/N: This is for the girlies, sorry to the other pooks. This one is a bit intense. In emotional sense. Technically this guy is an bnha oc of mine saur..

【DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT🕊】

TW: Degrading, misogyny, non-con, implied long time non-con, betrayal from friend, two-faced mf, etc.

You couldn't take it anymore. The constant violation, the relentless manipulation—it was all too much. You had to expose Jun, had to make someone believe you. So, you went to your friend, your confidante, and poured out your heart. You told her everything: the way Jun would use his Quirk on you, how he would force himself on you, and the way he would leave you feeling empty and used.

As you cried, she listened, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. When you finished, she promised to help you. You clung to that promise, desperate for someone to be on your side.

The next time Jun and your friend met, he noticed the tension between you two. He could see the disdain in her eyes, and he knew he had to act fast. With a smile on his face, he pulled her aside, his voice low and soothing. "Hey, I've heard you've been talking to my girlfriend," he said, feigning concern. "I'm worried she's got the wrong impression. She's just jealous, you know how women can be."

Your friend, believing his side of the story, turned on you. She confronted you, accusing you of lying and causing trouble. Betrayed and heartbroken, you were left with no one to turn to.

Unbeknownst to you, Jun had been using his Quirk on her, subtly influencing her thoughts and emotions, making her doubt your story. He enjoyed the power he held over her, and it only fueled his desire to control and dominate.

One day, when you were alone with Jun, he decided you needed a 'reminder' of your place. He forced you into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind you. His eyes were filled with a mix of anger and desire, and you knew there was no escaping what was to come.

He began by mocking you, calling you ungrateful and saying how much you enjoyed his advances. "You're always so tight, like you want it," he sneered. You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a rough kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands roamed your body.

Jun then used his Quirk on you, sending shivers down your spine and making your body betray you. "Looks like your body can't help itself, huh?" he teased, as your nipples hardened and your pussy grew wet with desire. He tore off your clothes, leaving you completely naked before him.

"You're such a tight little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. He bent you over a desk, your hands pressed against the cold surface as he positioned himself behind you.

He thrust into you without warning, his thick cock stretching you wide open. You cried out in pain, but he didn't care. "Shut up, you love it," he snapped, as he began to pump in and out of you, his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

"You were made for this," he snarled, slapping your ass. You felt humiliated and violated, his cock filling you up, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room.

He forced you to look at the sight of his cock entering you, your face contorting in pain. Jun's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he fucked you harder and faster, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole.

He was relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building up inside you, even though you desperately wished it wouldn't. Jun leaned down, his hot breath against your ear as he whispered, "Cum for me, [Name]."

You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back, but it was no use. Jun's words, combined with the intense pleasure he was inflicting, sent you over the edge. You cried out as an orgasm ripped through your body, your pussy clenching around his cock.

This only served to push Jun over the edge as well. He groaned loudly, his cock pulsating inside you as he came, filling you with his hot seed. He pulled out, leaving you on the desk, your body shaking, and your mind reeling from the violation.

Jun stood over you, his cock glistening with your fluids, before licking his lips. He leaned down and trailed his tongue along your cheek, smirking as he said, "Remember who you belong to, hm?"

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[osachiyo]

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 1.7k+ words, vampire!fyodor x fem!reader, fluff + n/sfw, virginity loss, spitting (not like u think lol), soft!fyodor, cunnilingus, blood, biting, etc • this surprisingly won the poll soooo here u guys go ! also i didn't originally intend for him to be a vampire but like the latest chapter did something to me.. anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! minors dni & NOT PROOFREAD

"fedya i —"

"hush, my dear, let me take care of you," fyodor hummed, smooth but warm voice effectively cutting you off. "it's your first time, after all — we can't possibly have this be an unpleasant time for you," he spoke calmly, reaching out a thumb to smooth the crease between your brows, "i've got you, angel."

you nodded, hesitantly — wanting to please fyodor but it seemed like he was dead set on making this special for you. "now," your train of thought got cut off by fyodor's rich voice once again, "do you trust me, myshka?" he murmured the words into your neck — inhaling the sweet scent of your body lotion mixed with your natural smell. "do you even have to ask that, my love?" you chuckled, soft fingers brushing away a stray hair from his face, tucking that piece behind his ear and he smiled, "no, but it doesn't hurt to ask, right sweetheart?" cold lips pressed themselves against your neck — before his tongue darted out to lick at the sensitive skin.

you gasped when he finally bit down on your neck, fangs etching themselves deep into your soft flesh, you could feel your face flush at the way fyodor's hands were trying to grab anywhere he could, until they settled on the small of your back, pressing you as close to him as possible.

"f-fedya.." you pressed against his chest when you started to feel light headed, immediately catching his attention as he pulled away — you could see your blood staining his vampiric teeth and running down his lips in a line. "apologies, my dear — i was simply drunk off of your taste," he licked his lips clean before pressing them against your cheek — merely brushing them against your eager lips for a second before pulling away. damn tease.

"why don't you take this off for me, hm?" long fingers brushed against the straps of your nightgown, his hands itching to just rip the flimsy piece of clothing off — but he had to be patient. he didn't want to rush things with you, after all.

you happily obliged his request, slipping the thin straps off your shoulder, before shimmying out of the dress. now only in your undergarments, you shivered from the night air hitting your sensitive spots. but before you could even complain, fyodor suddenly captured your lips in a heated kiss — your inexperienced ones struggling to keep up with his.

you didn't even notice he had you pinned on the bed until your back hit the mattress, your hair sprawled on the sheets like a halo around you — making you look like an angel in his eyes. "..beautiful," fyodor whispered against your collarbones, leaving small nips and bites there — his cool lips a great contrast to your heated skin.

"f-fedya," you moaned once his hands found your breasts, fondling the soft mounds in his palms before looking up at you with those amethyst eyes. "yes, my dear?" he grinned, brushing his sharp teeth on the side of your tit, restraining himself from biting you.

"touch me more, please," you begged, hips twitching up involuntarily when his fingers found your nipples, pinching the hardened buds between his lithe digits while pressing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

"i'd be a fool not to," he chuckled, happily obliging to your pleads. "let's take this off, yeah?" he put his fingers in the waistband of your panties, admiring the pretty little bow on the skimpy garment. it felt like he was unwrapping a present — your pussy.

he watched as strings of your arousal stuck to the fabric as he pulled it away, revealing your awaiting and untouched cunt to him. "absolutely gorgeous," he breathed out, the air fanning on your folds made your head spin. fyodor eventually took your panties fully off, chucking it somewhere on the bed, but his eyes were on you the entire time — on that perfect cunt.

"may i, darling?" fyodor licked his lips, trying his best to not just shove his head between your thighs — he needed you to say it, to want it as bad as he did.

"please, need you so bad right now —!," you whined, tossing your head back once he licked a flat stripe up your cunt, groaning lowly at the taste. "taste's s'good," he purred, gathering your slick on his tongue before dipping the pink muscle into your hole — almost tongue-fucking you.

"mmh," you tried your best to muffle the sinful noises escaping your lips — biting down on your hand so hard it's almost enough to draw blood, until you felt fyodor's cold hands pry it away — "i want to hear you, my love, don't be shy —" his tongue swirled over your clit deliciously, "sing for me."

and you did — back arching so sweetly while those intoxicating little moans and whines rolled off your tongue, all while fyodor's was moving in and out of you.

" 'm gonna cum — fedya, please," your hand found purchase in his soft ebony locks, tugging on it gently and hearing, feeling him moan into your cunt — sending vibrations throughout your whole body.

"please what?" he finally opened his eyes, mischief written all over his features as he worked his mouth on you. "what do you want me to do, pretty girl?" fyodor hummed, pulling away to spread your folds with his thumbs — before spitting directly onto your hole, watching the tight ring clench and unclench rapidly. how cute, he thought.

you gasped at the lewd show he was putting on, before reluctantly speaking up, "please make — make me c-cum, fedya," the tears gathered on your lashes finally fell, earning a soft coo from the man between your legs.

"is that right, my love?" he mused, reaching down a finger to collect some of your slick before plunging the long digit in — breath catching in his throat once he felt just how tight and warm you were. "cum for me, beautiful," that was the last thing he rasped before diving in — groaning unashamedly into your cunt. that was all you needed, the final push before releasing all over his face and mouth, drenching his chin down to his collar, and he wasn't even mad about it.

"oh oh go— gosh, feels s'good," you clenched your eyes shut at the unbelievable amount of pleasure, it was so good. fyodor continued to lick and gulp down all your juices, muttering praises in between.

once he finally pulled away, he finally took a good look at you and fuck — you looked utterly debauched. tits spilling from the bra he was yet to completely take off, the bite marks littering your skin and your face. especially your face — eyes glazed over and unfocused as little pants left your mouth, drool and tears running down your chin. you looked like a ruined mess — a beautiful ruined mess.

fyodor didn't waste any time before beginning to undress himself, he needed to fuck you — now. he could feel how unbelievably hard he was, it almost hurt how turned on he was, not that he'd ever admit how crazy you make him.

"you're ready," he breathed, before kissing you deeply — hardened cock rubbing against your folds and spreading his precum on them, mixing with your arousal. "so ready," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up, pinning you against the headboard this time.

"do tell if this hurts too much," he groaned, biting his chapped lips as he slowly pushed the tip in — feeling you contract around him nearly drove him insane. you gasped and writhed in pain as he entered you — but it felt so good at the same time, to be so impossibly close to the man you love — you didn't mind the pain too much, instead focusing on the blooming warmth in your chest.

that warmth intensified once you glanced at his face — usual pale skin now flushed, brows furrowed and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he looked almost angelic — as if he wasn't a creature of sin.

fyodor's eyes opened and he caught you staring at him in awe, his lips twitching up to show a genuine smile — filled with love and warmth for you. only for you.

"you feel so good, moya lyubov," he almost moaned out — hips thrusting so sensually it almost had you rolling your eyes back.

"a-ah fyodor —!" you mewled so cutely when he brushed his fangs against your neck — so sharp they almost drew blood. "can i? please, milyy," he pleaded — and who were you to say no to him?

you didn't answer him with words, only craning your neck to give him more access — and he got the memo. sharp fangs sunk into your neck, making you tightening your grip on fyodor — his hips quickening their pace, now becoming desperate, and hungry for release.

the taste of your blood filled fyodor's senses — you tasted so good, so sweet he had to hold himself back from cumming immediately — he had to make his girl cum first, right?

your eyes shot open once you felt cold fingertips rubbing your clit in hurried circles, walls clenching even more on the vampire's length which had him muttering small curses in russian. you could feel yourself getting light-headed from the loss of blood — but it wasn't fatal, he'd never hurt you like that. "close, milaya?" he grunted, now licking up the blood dripping from the punctures on your neck — his eyes rolling back slight from the metallic taste.

"yes — yesyesyes —!" you squealed, gushing all over his cock, soaking the bedsheets in the process. fyodor couldn't last much longer either, your taste along with the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him had him cumming seconds after you — both of you moaning in unison as he filled you to the brim.

you yelped when fyodor slumped against you — for a vampire, he didn't have the stamina of one. "tired?" you breathed out, brushing some stray hair from his pretty face. fyodor only hummed in response, eyes opening to take in the sight of you underneath him — pants leaving the both of you. your hair was messy, dried blood and tears staining your skin. "so beautiful," he hummed, pressing his lips against your temple. "you did so well, my love," he praised, chuckling at the way you suddenly became so shy.

"get some rest, my dear — i'll have ivan make you something rich in iron. i may have took... a tad too much blood," he sighed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. you could only nod absentmindedly, eyes fluttering closed as the tiredness finally got to you.

an "i love you, sleep well, beautiful girl," was the last thing you heard before slipping away in dream land.

©osachiyo— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[spacebarbarianweird]

Fever

Summary: During your post-game adventures, you get sick and Astarion takes care of you.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @tragedybunny for being an amazing beta!

It's bone-chilling cold. So close to the Spine of the World, the snow and winds prove as merciless as demons from the Abyss. Tears freeze on your cheeks. Even Astarion, wrapped in his fur cape, shivers; the cold seeping into his undead body. He starves. The dark forest is silent, with no animals around to prey on.

"Astarion," you muffle through the thick scarf, "take a small sip, I beg you."

"No," he refuses yet again, unwilling to risk your life. Hunger and cold torment him, but he stands on his feet. Meanwhile, you, a fragile mortal, teeter on the verge of death in this frozen forest. Your back aches despite Astarion carrying most of the load. Your feet are numb as if submerged in icy water, and your throat burns with pain.

Astarion grabs your hand and lets you lean back on him. The nearest village is still miles away, and there's no chance you'll make it till sunrise. Nights are long, dark, and unforgiving. You need to set up the camp; it might be warmer in daylight.

But Astarion desperately holds on to his sanity, which he might lose if he doesn't feed soon.

"Astarion, please. We need to put up the tent. Sunrise is soon. I will just lay by the fire, and you can eat."

"We still have time, darling, and save your energy," he grits his teeth. The starving monster within him looks at you through Astarion's kind crimson eyes.

"Astarion, take my blood!"

He doesn't reply, leading the way through dark woods. If only there was an animal, even a rat. Looking up, you see the dark skies filled with prickly stars.

"What is it, my sweet?"

Suddenly, you realize you haven't been cold because of the snow and winds. You are cold from within. Your heart, lungs, and bones are freezing, much like what Astarion feels every moment since he died. "Oh, fuck!"

You realize you now lie in the snow, unable to move, as the air in your throat burns with ice.

"Wake up, gods damn you!" Astarion's voice is desperate, betraying that he' is scared to death.

You hear the loud thump when his travel sack drops in the snow. Then he works on your belts, releasing your burden. A moment later, and you rest in his hands.

"Love, I need you to stay awake. You hear me?"

But you can't say anything. The cold rips through your muscles, turning into ice, and you lose consciousness, drowning in cold, dark waters.

So cold, so cold. It's a freezing grip of death on your heart, killing you. You think of Astarion, imagining him beside your lifeless body.

… You hear muffled talking and open your eyes. You aren't dead, that's for sure, but there is complete darkness around you.

And you lie under something weighty.

You try to move but can't, your. whole body shivers. You are almost naked, tucked in animal fur like some barbarian child.

The smell wood and herbs comes to you. And fire.

Then you remember the sun. And how Astarion carried you in his hands. Horror pierces your mind along with cold.

He is dead. He didn't make it till sunrise. It burnt him; he is gone. And the village people probably found you alone in the snow and brought you here.

While you think, you realize there are people in the room. Two people, to be precise.

"It's a freezing fever," the female voice says. "You two would have been complete idiots if you'd decided to put up a camp. She would have been dead by now."

"But now—is she ok?"

Astarion.

You have never felt so much joy in your life. He is alive and here, beside you. You can't comprehend how much strength he had to pull to make it with you in his hands by sunrise.

"She needs to take the potion. And then sleep in warmth."

You feel the familiar weight beside you. Then, two hands get you out of the blankets and make you sit up. Your head is spinning, and you shiver, though you notice sweat on the healer's face.

Astarion smiles at you and brings the bottle with the potion to your lips.

"Drink, love," he says.

"The taste is nasty," the healer shrugs. "Make her drink every last drop."

The potion is genuinely awful, burning your mouth. You start slipping away again, and Astarion tucks you in thick blankets.

"And people say vampires are soulless creatures. They should meet you two.”

When the healer leaves, Astarion lies beside you over the blanket. You wish to hug him but are afraid of his cold skin.

"Are you hungry?" you ask.

You hear a chuckle. "You are at death's door, and you ask about me? "Take mine," you insist.

"Tav, darling, I ain't taking a tiny drop from you until you fully recover. There is prey in the woods. I will find it."

You want to say something else, but the freezing hand of the sickness grips your throat. You feel like you’re naked on ice, in the howling wind.

"Love?"

"It's still… cold…"

Astarion sighs and stands up. You want to cry, to beg him to stay, but you can't say anything as he leaves the room, closing the thick wooden door.

You feel like crying, alone, and freezing. The healer curses, "You, idiot, stay inside!"

You hide under the blanket in the fetal position, trying to save warmth. However, it's difficult since the core of your suffering is still within. What if you are dying? And you are dying all alone in this village without a name in the middle of nowhere.

It's been years since you left Baldur's Gate together, and you can't fall asleep without him by your side. Astarion is safety. Astarion is protection. Whatever enemy is out there to threaten your life and freedom, Astarion is always there with his fangs and daggers. He doesn't sleep—only meditates a bit—and he is your guardian when you are most vulnerable.

But now you are alone. Your mind grasps consciousness with the last bits of strength you have. The thick blankets don't let you move, and you lie like you’re in your very own coffin of ice. It's been a long time since you were left alone, but you know it's still dark outside. And then you realize you aren't alone anymore.

Astarion crawls under the blankets and covers your body with himself, placing his head on your chest. He smells like blood, the hunt, and forest. He has already pulled off all his clothes, and you feel his skin against yours, unexpectedly flaming hot.

You can only wonder how much blood he has drunk. Sure, his body gets warm after feeding, and the more living blood he takes, the more alive he seems. But this is different. You can't see him, but you are somehow sure his skin has temporarily returned to its natural living color.

You wrap your hands around him and stroke the scars. Astarion groans and adjusts himself a bit.

"I've been hunting," he says, sounding drunk. "The healer told me there is a bear attacking villagers, starved and angry. I found and drained it."

"You shouldn't have risked it."

"I wanted you to be warm. I know how it feels to have a freezing grip on the heart. It hurts. All the time."

You press him tighter and kiss his forehead.

With him in your hands, you finally fall asleep. You have a strange dream—a summer day in the beautiful mountains.

And there is Astarion beside you. He smiles, exposing his face to the sunshine. You want to tell him to hide, to run away. But he opens his eyes, and you stare at him in disbelief.

They are green, not red.

… When you wake up, you feel hot. Sweat runs down your back, and the blankets suffocate you. You get out of them like a kitten squeezed by its mother.

"Hello, my sweet. You are so adorable with this bed hair," Astarion sits on the floor with a needle and a thread. You recognize his own shirt in his hands.

"How awful do I look?"

"You look like someone who finally got better. But I suppose you could scare away some kids in that village. Maybe I should tell them you are also a vampire. Food or bath?" he asks.

"Food. I am dying of hunger."

"My sweet, don't tell me about hunger." He mockingly kisses you. He returns soon with a soup bowl. You try to take the plate in your trembling hands, but Astarion forces you to sit still like a baby and starts spoon-feeding you.

"Good girl," he chuckles. "The healer said it would take you weeks to recover, and you made it in three days."

"And you have been here?"

"Don't offend me with such questions."

"Oh, don't be angry."

With a full stomach, you feel much better and lie back on the bed, letting your body fully recover. Astarion studies your face as if seeing it for the first time. Then he lies beside you, allowing you to place your head on his chest. His skin is cold again, but it feels more like him.

"What is on your mind, Astarion?" you ask.

"I want to stay," he says. "Not exactly here, but I can't live like that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Living on the road. I can't do that anymore. You obviously can't either. I... listen… I've never had a home. Never had a place to call my own. I want one. I want one with you."

"Didn't you tell me it would be tediously boring?" you inquire. "I wanted to see what life has to offer beyond the city walls." "Astarion, it will be dangerous. No one would want a—"

You bite your tongue. "Sorry."

"Dealing with a nosey neighbor doesn't sound more dangerous than getting some weird sickness in the middle of nowhere. Besides, we can prove to people it's better to have a vampire of their own rather than be threatened by some unhinged vampire lord.”

"Astarion, I am afraid for you. People hate vampires!"

"And I am afraid for you."

You are both silent. You turn to him and nuzzle his collarbone. He wraps his hands around you. Vague memories return, and you suddenly realize you heard the voices while in fever.

"Don't die. Please, don't die. I need you."

A scared voice of a healer. "You are a vampire!"

"Please help her. I won't come inside. I will stay in the woods. Please, please, help her! She is mortal; she is dying!"

You remember being carried to the bed and a strong smell of herbs. "How did you two end up together?", asked the healer.

"She saved me. From myself. Showed me I have a chance to be something different from what I was turned into. Tell me what I can do. Do you need herbs? Ingredients? I will bring you anything."

And then the face of the healer standing above you. She came to check on you in Astarion's absence, and the feverish mind remembered that.

"You are a lucky to have him, girl."

You caress Astarion's cheek. "Would staying in one place make you happy?"

He nods.

"Then, me too." --

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire

[mcuamerica]

Him | Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: You might hate the High Lord of Autumn, but what happens when you get hurt in the middle of the Winter Court? requested by anon here

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, almost drowning, mention of death, let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 1.5k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Eris Masterlist

graphics from @saradika-graphics

You hated the cold. You hated the Winter Court. And most importantly, you hated him. With his annoyingly red, perfect, stupid hair. With his amber eyes that burned with fire when he talked. With his deep, grating, gruff voice. With his ability to stay warm and melt snow around him but not you.

But of course, Rhys chose you to go on this mission with him. Because of course they needed a spell-cleaving fairy from Day to unlock the wards. And short of asking Helion Spell-Cleaver himself, they didn't have many options. Neither Rhys nor Feyre could get through the wards, so here you were. In the Winter Court. With the newly appointed High Lord of Autumn. Who not even a year ago killed his own father.

"If you don't stop talking, I might just rip your throat out." You growled, flexing your hand to show your long, sharp nails.

"Good thing we're close, I won't have to suffer with your brooding silence anymore." Eris retorted, causing you to roll your eyes. "Come now, dear, into the Cave of Wonders..." He joked.

Just when you were about to turn around and leave him for dead, you sensed the glamour in front of you. "Stop." You said, reaching out to grab Eris's arm.

He let out a low growl at your touch, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "I can see it," he said.

You bit back your response and looked towards the glamour, taking a deep breath as you let your magic trail along it, testing it. Once you found no traps, you tore it down.

What was revealed was a large lake, covered in ice of course, and on the other side was the cave you were looking for. The one containing a very important artifact that Rhys needed. Kallias gave him permission to get it, but said he would need to do it himself. He wasn't stupid enough to venture into this part of his territory. From entering the Winter Court with Eris, you encountered three different creatures that all were difficult to kill. But, to your dismay and luck, you had a High Lord with fire powers traveling with you. And with your slow healing abilities, he was able to take care of them himself. Which he so lovingly pointed out every chance he got.

Eris might be good at defending the two of you, but he was an idiot on many other fronts. The Autumn Court High Lord seemed to not now anything about surviving or moving in the cold. Which was evident when he stepped onto the ice. Which immediately cracked under his feet. And he kept walking.

"Eris, if you keep going, you're going to fall into the lake." You said, waiting on the edge.

"It's fine. If it gives, I'll winnow." He said, shrugging his shoulders. Another thing you hated about him, his idiotic arrogance.

"You can't winnow here, Eris." You called out the further he got away. "Can't you feel it with your magic? It's stifled." You said.

"I'm almost across. Come on. It's fine." He said.

You let out a huff and let him get across before you tentatively took a step on the lake. You watched as it help steady and no more cracks formed before taking more steps towards the other side. Towards the insufferable male gazing at you.

“If I could break through these wards I would. But you’re supposed to be the best spell cleaver out there and you’re scared of ice.” He mocked.

“I’m not scared of ice.” You said, looking up at him. “Unlike you, I’m smart. And I know that a lake covered in ice that you can see through is more likely to crack when someone is atop it.”

“I was fine… maybe I can get through these wards.” He said, turning towards the cave.

“Eris, don’t!” You yelled out, feeling the way the magic ripples, retracted as he flung out his fire. You felt the ice beneath you crack. Before you could even blink, you were in the freezing water. Even worse, the ice magically closed on top of you. You banged on the ice, flinging your magic out as much as you could bear. Your magic was meant for warding. For blocking out and breaking other magic. Not for shattering solid ice. You heard a shudder on the ice and saw that burning fire break through it. But it didn’t consume you in the water. Instead, there was a perfect hole in the ice. As you breathed back in air, you grabbed the hand that was reached out to you.

Pulling you out, Eris swore. You were much paler than normal, probably due to the freezing water he causes you to fall into.

“I’m sorry-“ he started.

“Don’t even.” You gritted out, your body shaking. He reached out to keep you warm but you batted his hand away. “I need to fix what you messed up.” You said. You walked to the other side with ease, the ice working to repair the hole Eris’s fire dealt or.

You held your hand up as you took a deep breath, pushing the cold aside as you tested the wards. Just when you thought it was impossible, you found it. Found the small crack that allowed you to shatter the first set of wards easily. Only to reveal another set.

After venturing further into the cave, and getting through five sets of wards, you were getting drained. The pool of magic inside of you was faltering to a small puddle. Not to mention, the further you went in, the colder it got.

You were shaking, and Eris only watched as you got deeper into the cave, shivering. You were getting paler by the second, stumbling over your steps.

“We can rest here.” He said, grabbing your shoulder. He knew something was wrong when you didn’t shrug him off. Or come back with a witty retort. “(Y/N)? We’re going to stop here.” He said.

At that, you turned around and vomited right next to his feet. Luckily avoiding his boots. When you looked up, you looked like you were dying.

He pulled you towards the wall, sitting you down quickly as he probed your body with his magic. Shit. You were dying.

"(Y/N), look at me." Eris said, cupping your cheek to face him. Your eyes were slightly glazed over when you grabbed his wrist.

"Let me go." You murmured. At least you weren't completely out of it.

"You're dying. There must have been something in that water." He said. To any regular fae, it was probably fine to be submerged in it. But for your slow healing abilities, it was clearly deadly. That combined with draining your magic.

"You did this." You muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

"Let me help you." He whispered.

You let out a grumble but nodded. "Fine." You said, not wanting to die alone in a cave.

Eris's warm magic flowed through your veins, warming your core. His magic worked to heal you as best as it could. While he couldn't completely reverse the effects, he could get most of the poisoned water out from your body. When you stopped shaking violently and only did it every few seconds, he stopped his pursuit.

The wards now locked the two of you inside the cave. Since you weren't in any shape to work your magic until it refilled, Eris got to work on laying out the blankets and sleeping pads. The hope was that you didn't have to use them and get done with the mission within a day, but clearly it was going to take longer.

You were conscious enough to lay down on the pad and pull the blanket over you. Since starting a fire would lure unwanted creatures, and most likely suffocate you both, Eris didn't start one. "I can keep you warm." He said.

You moved your head to face him, a scowl on your face. "You're the reason I'm still freezing... You think I want you to touch me?" You asked.

"I don't think you want it. But you need it. If your temperature continues to fall you won't make it out of here." He said.

You huffed, turning your body so your back faced him. "Fine. Whatever." You said.

A small smirk came to his face at the victory. He scooted closer to you, an arm wrapping around your waist. His magic radiated from his body, warming you to the point where you were not only warm, but hot. "Okay, no need to go so hard." You said.

"Isn't that how you like it?" He teased. You only growled in response. He sensed you drifting off to sleep as your breaths slowed down. When he was confident you were warm and comfortable, he allowed himself to pull back ever so slightly. His magic continued to keep the two of your warm, but Eris knew he didn't actually have to hold you. He could send heat over to you from across the room. But wasn't this so much better?

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!

[bunnibaby-love]

Would it be too much to ask for a Zhongli x Bunny!Reader heavy SMUT fic? 🥹

🐰 Zhongli x Bunny!Reader 🐰

♡ female reader + size kink + manhandling + power dynamics

Shameless bunny sleeping at the statue of lord of geo. How dare you disrespect Morax?

Zhongli rather found it amusing. Seeing you curling your tiny body on the lap of his statue. From his distance, he can see the twinkle of your eyes admiring his statue with a little pout.

He's maybe quite jealous of his own statue. Why put yourself in that uncomfortable position when he can just take you in. Surely you can warm his lap

He approach you when he saw you at harbor docks looking for food they can spare you. Poor bunny. He invites you over at his place so you two can enjoy treats and tea.

You didn't even pay attention on his vivid eyes while he shares a tea with you. You started getting sleepy after the treats and he offers you sleep on his bedroom. Guilible bunny just don't have any sense of danger

From your peripheral vision, you can see the consultant taking off his suit and reveal his black and gold arms. It's fascinating so you stares at it

"Cute bunny..i really admire such beautiful creatures" he carees your bunny ears and you can't help but purr "But you...are very naughty" He grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him with widen eyes "Sleeping on the statue of morax...that's disrespect. Why did you do that?"

You feel scared of his strong aura but also feeling butterflies on your tummy "Don't have home....im lost..." you pout with your pink lips "M'like the statue...it's comfy and warm..." you blush while confessing the sin you did while he just chuckles

"Do you recognize me?" You met your gaze with his cor lapiz eyes "..Morax? but...no..morax is dead" even though you are from Inazuma, everyone knows Morax is decease

"The god is infront of you.." you can't speak and can tell he isn't lying "You deserve a punishment for disrespecting a God..." You feel your body cold with how intimidating he actually is

He sat on the bed and look at you sternly "Lay down like how you did with my statue" you hesistant but he instanly pulls your tail causing you to just command him

You curls up on his lap but he turns you around making you lay on your stomach on his lap. You can feel the roughness by him holding your tail when he spanks you "Wah..! no...hurts!" Your pleadings only goes to deaf ears as he smack your ass two more times

"I assume you aren't wearing anything at all under this dress of yours" He's right. You hate wearing undergarments it feels restricting your movements and it just feels better

You heard a rip of fabric and it's your dress he casually throws around. He make you sit on his lap and slap your clit that made your body shiver

"Ride it my love" you blush with his words he really knows how to get you. He's very big, thick and veiny! Can you even take his tip. "Be a good girl or i'll pinch your clit again" You bite your lips as you start to sink down to take all of him

It's so hard taking him full on your cunny. You starts to ride him slowly enjoying the initimation but it doesn't look like what Zhongli is planning

He grips your hips and lays you down without pulling away his cock. He quickly pounds you rough and fast "No...more...too big!" you whimper and cry as you try to grab his chest but your hands just got slap "Behave.." he growls and you can't help but just take everything

You feel a sudden emptiness when he pulls out and make you on all fours. Your knees are giving up on you and you can barely balance yourself but he doesn't mind. Putting his weight behind you and pushing all the way his cock again to resume his pace

"Im cumming....please....let me...Morax..." you softly purrs as you are close to release but he pulls away again leaving you empty "no please...i'll be good..." you kneel beside him and gave him your lovesick eyes and puts you again on his lap "daddie....i can't...take it anymore...!" you shake your hips on him

He kiss you and you feel his forked tongue claiming your lips at the same time his 3 fingers enters your cunny as he fingers you fast and rough, taking all your moans on his mouth

A pinch on your clit and you squirted all over him. It's like you're soul got taken after the hard orgasm

You still pouted as you didn't get to cum on his cock and you look at him again with doe eyes "Bunnies can never be satisfy..." He chuckles "Kneel and worship your God"

[darkbluekies]

Like magic — part 2/end?

Part 1

Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere

Summary: after waking up from a coma like state, you find out that people are dying around you ... and they all seem to have a connection to you

Warnings: death, blood, typical stuff, abusive household

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: I feel that the ending got rushed, but I didn't know what I was going to write! Apologies. And for the moment, this will be the end of the series, but if I ever want to do another part, I will<3

Taglist: @yandere-city2 @svinxie @yumeneji @spitakgini

"Have you ever had a dueling class?" Hedwig asks.

"No, never", you reply nervously, thinking of everything Edmund told you about it.

"It's going to be fine. We're not even sure if they're going to pick you for demonstration!"

"I'm happy that Edmund isn't in this class or I'd be dead."

The mention of his name makes Hedwig quiet.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hedwig", you say. "I know you don't like to talk about him."

"You seem to like it …"

"What? No! He just annoys me so I can't forget him. He's taken over my brain like a virus."

Hedwig sighs and hugs your arm.

"I don't like him at all", she mumbles. 

You enter your very first dueling class and watch how the professor start to talk about different spells (most you've never even heard of).

"I need two participants", he says and looks around for faces. "Arthur and Y/N, please."

You can feel Hedwig stiffen against your arm. You feel your blood go cold.

"B-But professor-!" Hedwig starts.

"No buts, come up here now, Y/N", the professor demands.

You have no other choice than to step up on the stage-looking plateau. Hedwig watches in horror with her hands clasped over her mouth. You pick up your wand. 

"Professor!" Hedwig tries again, but once again she's dismissed.

You're supposed to protect yourself from a spell you have never heard about before, but since you neither know the spell nor the counter spell, it hits your body like a thousand needles. Suddenly, everything seems to go in slow motion. You're flung against the stone wall. The air gets knocked out of your lungs and your head starts to pound thickly. Everything turns dark.

Hedwig screams and runs over to you.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" she gasps. "Y/N answer, please!" She turns to the professor. "I tried to warn you! She doesn't know any dueling spells! Now look at what you did!"

The professor stands there sheepishly, and Hedwig wants nothing more than to swing her wand and do as much damage as she possibly can.

A few students help Hedwig carry your unconscious body to the hospital wing where your bloody head is wrapped in bandage. You're tucked in under white sheets. Hedwig sits by with tears running down her cheeks. She holds your hand tightly. 

Edmund sighs and turns the page. Idiocy, all of it. He doesn't want to read about spells, he wants to perform them.

"Did you hear?" a voice says to someone else. "The transfer student in third year got abominated during duel class."

The school only has one transfer student. Edmund shuts the book and flies up towards the Hufflepuff student talking bullshit.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks. "Don't talk so much shit. Spit it out."

They seem to flinch upon seeing him. Edmund's made sure that people know you belong to him.

"The transfer student, she's in the hospital wing", the hufflepuff boy says, ashamed by now.

Edmund feels how his heart stops beating. No way. Not you. He gives the Hufflepuff boy one last glare before running off. He bumps into multiple people on his way, but doesn't stop to excuse himself.

Hedwig looks up when she hears someone rip the door open and run in. Edmund's face is paler than usual and for once, there's something desperate in his icy blue eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" he pants and walks to the other side of the bed. 

"The professor didn't listen to me when I tried to tell him that Y/N doesn't know any spells", Hedwig sniffles without taking her eyes off of you. "She got flung against the wall and must have hit her head really hard."

"I'm going to kill him."

Hedwig sobs and rests her forehead down on your hand. 

“Stop doing that”, Edmund mutters and pulls her head back before wiping your hand. “Your face oil is getting all over her.”

"What if she never wakes up again?"

"Stop talking such nonsense, of course she will."

But he can't help feeling worried.

"Alright, students", the working nurse says, "you cannot stay here any longer, the patient needs to rest."

"I'm staying", Edmund says sharply.

"I'm staying too!" Hedwig insists.

"No, you have to listen to the rules. You can visit miss Y/N later."

They are about to resist once more, but are forced out and the doors close behind them.

"What a prick!" Edmund mutters and starts to walks off.

"Edmund, wait … please", Hedwig sniffles. "Please help me."

He frowns and turns around.

"I can't let that boy get away with it", she whimpers. "But I can't do it alone. Please … help me. Please."

“You want … me … to help … you?” he asks, confused. “Have you lost your little sugar, honey mind?”

Hedwig sobs and shakes her head. “No. Please, Edmund. I can’t do it myself, I don’t have the heart to do it. But I know you do.”

“How would you know that?”

“Don’t lie. I know that you have the tattoo on your arm. Everyone knows who your parents are and what they’ve done.” She snuffles and wipes her nose. “It doesn’t matter if they lie. Everyone knows.”

Edmund hushes and covers her mouth with his hand. Hedwig’s eyes widens. 

“Be silent, will you?” he hisses. “Fine, I’ll do it … not because you tell me to, but because Y/N needs to be revenged — and because I’m fucking pissed.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.” She takes a deep breath. “If you … if you do it, I will make sure to cover it up.”

“Deal.”

When you wake up, you can feel a harsh pounding in the back of your head, harsh enough to split your skull open. You open your eyes slightly, letting just enough daylight in to be able to locate yourself. The hospital wing. 

Why am I here?

You suddenly remember, and it sends a new painful wave through your brain. Carefully, you sit up and look around, wishing to see Hedwig, but there’s noone. 

Suddenly, a few teachers rush in with a body in their arms. The boy who you had dueled with — Arthur, you believed his name to be — gets thrown onto a bed and covered with a sheet. A shiver runs down your spine. Whatever that was about, you don’t want to be included. 

“Excuse me?” you say hesitantly, gathering the attention of the nurse. “Could you help me?”

“Yes of course”, she answers and hurries over. “You’re finally awake, I’m happy to see that. How are you feeling?”

Dismissing her question, you ask her to bring you Hedwig. And Hedwig you receive, along with the black haired devil. 

“Oh, Y/N!” she shouts in relief and wraps her arms around you. “Oh, how happy I am to see you awake! You worried me sick.”

You hug her back, weirdly scared. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious for, or what has happened to you while you were out. Hedwig’s ripped off of you and suddenly, you feel Edmund’s firm, muscular arms around you. He holds your head into his chest, breathing out slowly. 

“I told you that you didn’t want to end up in the hospital wing”, he mumbles and sighs out, cupping your cheeks. “From now on, I won’t let you anywhere out of my sight. Since miss princess over here can’t keep an eye on you, I have to do it.”

“Excuse me?” Hedwig scoffs. “Do you think I wanted Y/N to get hurt? I tried to tell the professor-!”

“I don’t care, halfblood. If I were there, I wouldn’t have let that happened! I would have dueled the damn professor myself.” He turns to you and kisses your forehead. “My dear, Y/N. I will never let anyone touch a hair on your head again, do you understand me?”

You nod, confused. 

“Good”, Edmund smiles and stands up. “What should we do with you now?"

"Are you allowed to leave?" Hedwig asks softly and you nod. She takes your hands. "Let's go eat something. You can sit at my table."

You come with her to the great hall and sit down by the hufflepuff table. Edmund refuses to be seen beside the students wearing yellow and black uniforms and retreats to the Slytherin table. 

“Here you go, sweetheart”, Hedwig says and starts to fill a plate for you, giving it over. “Eat a lot, okay? You have been skipping multiple days now that you’ve been in a coma — or whatever that was. You have multiple days to make up for, eat up.”

“Thank you, Hedwig, that’s very nice of you”, you reply and watch the mountain of food on your plate. 

Hedwig insists on feeding you, as if you were a baby. You don’t mind. After waking up all alone in a foreign room, without any knowledge of what has happened or how long you’ve been gone, being babied doesn’t sound too bad.

The entire hall is glancing at you and you realize that if there ever was the slightest chance of staying single in the public’s eyes, you were sealed to Hedwig by now. 

Your stomach starts to hurt not long after. It has shrunk in size.

“It hurts”, you say and clutch your stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up if I eat more.”

“But … but …”, Hedwig stutters, completely baffled. 

“Hedwig, I love the food, I really do … but if I eat more for now I’m going to puke.”

“I’ll … I’ll save it then!” she says happily. 

She puts the bread in a napkin and puts it in the pocket of her cloak. You’re pulled up from the bench by her arm and taken out into the corridor.

“Let’s go out into the fresh air to get you feeling better”, she smiles.

You nod, following Hedwig wherever she takes you. A fresh wind clears your lungs.

"I hope you know that I'm so happy that you're okay", she says and holds your hand while you're walking, side by side. "I got so scared. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

You nod again.

"When I say that, I really mean it. Nothing is too much for you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Hedwig smiles and hugs your arm tightly.

“You should come over to my house someday”, she says. “I would show you so much stuff that you have never seen before. You’re missing out on a lot by being born into a muggle family.”

“I would like very much to go to your house”, you say quietly. “I don’t want to go home.”

She stops. “What? Why?”

“Well … you know … I don’t want to go home.”

She frowns when you shrug awkwardly. You’ve hinted about your home life numerous times, but you’ve never told her the entire reason. Should you?

“Why?" she asks. "Why don't you want to go home?"

"I'm scared that they won't let me go back."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I'm sure that they'll understand."

"No, Hedwig, they won't. They locked me in my bedroom every year to make sure I wouldn't get here. I picked the lock this time. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Are they bad people, Y/N?"

"Well … I don't know. They're not mean but … if I say anything that goes against their rules or their wishes, they punish me greatly.”

"How?"

“You’d be surprised at how creative they are.”

“I see.” She smiles softly and caresses your cheek. “You have nothing to be worried about, I will take you in. You can move into my house.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be a bother to your parents.”

“They’re rarely home anyway, they wouldn’t even notice.” She gasps and looks at her watch. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I have to go! I have class in five minutes. Please find me after class, we can meet in the library. I love you, Y/N, bye!”

She kisses your cheek and runs. You watch her until she disappears into the castle. The headache returns and you press your palms to your forehead, giving out a small sigh. Did your brain disconnect from the skull in that fall?

There’s too many people around you, too many sounds. You start to move back towards the castle when you’re stopped by a couple of students. They’re younger than you, but smirk like adults. 

“Aren’t you the third year that can’t duel to save your life?” one of them taunts. 

You’re taken aback, not knowing what to respond. They laugh among themselves, enjoying your embarrassment. You glance down at their robes. All from different houses.

Suddenly, their smiles disappear and they fixate on something behind you. You turn around, seeing Edmund with his two minions. 

“Bet you’re feeling tough, huh?” Edmund asks coldly. “Picking on someone that just came out of the hospital wing? Fuck off.”

The younger students glare at him, but listen and leave. You can feel Edmund’s hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, transfer student”, he says, “you shouldn’t wander around right after waking up from a coma. Did you lose braincells when hitting your head?”

“No”, you sigh and hold your hand on your head. “But it does hurt. A lot. All sounds make my brain pound.”

Edmund covers your ears with his hand, gives you a small nudge in the back with his knee to make you walk. He brings you to an empty corridor and sits you down on the floor. 

“Did you know those kids?” he asks. 

“No”, you shake your head. 

“I knew one of them”, one of his friends says. “Won’t be too hard to figure out who the others are.”

“Good”, Edmund says and sits down beside you, bringing you close to him. 

You frown in confusion as he wraps his cloak around you and puts your face on his shoulder. 

“Let’s rest here for a bit”, he says. “Don’t move. Sleep if you want.”

 The food swelling in your shrunken stomach and the loud noises have brought you back to exhaustion. You find yourself drifting off in his hold. Edmund sits with you, holding you closely. Every time someone walks by, he holds his hand over your ears to make sure they won’t wake you up. His friends chase them off. 

“Of course you had something to do with it”, he hears a voice say after a while. 

“No need to be snarky, Hedwig”, Edmund says without lifting his eyes from you. “I helped you kill that Arthur boy, the least you can do is thank me.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

Hedwig sits down beside the two of you and caresses your hair. 

“We have more to take care of”, Edmund says lowly. “Some embarrassing kids tried to embarrass Y/N. If you can find out who they are, I will take care of them.”

“Sure, it wouldn’t be too hard.” Especially with her contacts.

Things start to happen the following weeks. People you have talked to or that have been close to you have disappeared from the school or ended up dead in the hospital wing. You have done everything in your power to not blame yourself for the weird disappearances. It has to be a coincidence, you tell yourself. It can’t be your fault.

“Why that look?” Edmund asks and pokes your shoulder. 

You haven’t even realized that you’ve been staring in front ot you, completely missing what the teacher has said the last half an hour. 

“I feel weird”, you whisper. 

“Why?” Edmund asks, confused. 

“Haven’t you realized that people have died or disappeared?”

“I haven’t thought about it too much. It doesn’t interest me.”

“Oh …”

You look down in your lap where your nails scratch at each other.

“Why are you putting so much thought about it?” Edmund questions. 

“I’ve talked to them all … they’ve disappeared or died after they’ve been in my presence. Do you think it has something to do with me?”

“You think everything has to do with you.”

“I do not!”

The teacher scolds you for raising your voice and disturbing the class. Edmund smirks for himself. It stays on until you’re let out of the classroom. 

“Wait, Y/N, can you stay for a moment?” the teacher asks. 

You nod and walk over with Edmund behind you. 

“The headmaster wants to talk to you”, the teacher says. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Why?” Edmund demands to know. 

"It's urgent. Please hurry to his office.”

You give Edmund a nervous glance and hurry out. He follows closely with a cold look on his face.

“What do you think could have happened?” you ask him while rounding the corner.

“No idea”, he responds shortly. “But if they're trying to put you in trouble I'm snapping their necks.”

You can feel him take your hand tightly. You'll end up with bruises, you're sure.

The headmaster's office is dimly lit. He sits behind the desk with a worried look in his eyes. It only makes you even more terrified.

“Y/N, good”, he says and sits up straight. “I have some very serious matters to discuss with you. I see that you brought your friend.”

Edmund looks greatly offended at his title.

“What is it?” you ask carefully. 

“I'm sure that you haven't missed the unfortunate death of some of our students during these last few weeks … and they've all linked with you somehow-”

“Do you think she has killed them?” Edmund bursts out angrily.

“I did not say that. Please calm down. What I am saying is that the murders are linked with you somehow and to prevent more innocent students from death, we'll have to suspend you for a while.”

His words hit you like a missile in your chest. 

“What?” you ask quietly. “Suspend me? I haven't done anything wrong!”

“I know, Y/N, but we need to catch this murderer before he does more harm and with you here, we risk even more lives.” 

“How do you even know that Y/N is linked, hm?” Edmund questions snarky.

“Well, we're not one hundred percent sure, so sending Y/N home will determine if the murderers had anything to do with her or not. You'll take the train tomorrow evening. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

You can't seem to move, wondering if someone has put a spell on you. Your head pounds, and you start to wonder if you're hallucinating, almost hoping for it. Edmund leads you out to the corridor and grabs your shoulders to force you to look at him.

“You haven't done anything wrong, do you understand that?” he asks you harshly. 

You nod carefully.

“I don't want to go home”, you shake your head quickly as tears form in your eyes. 

“You’ll be back soon enough. When they realize that you have nothing to do with it, they have to bring you back.”

But you have to go back, and you know better than to argue with grown ups. Whether you want to or not, you’re on the train the next day, with all your belongings. Hedwig and Edmund are standing on the station, waving you off. 

“This fucking sucks”, Edmund mutters, watching the train leave. 

“I’m so worried for her”, Hedwig says shakily. “I hope that they’re not mean to her.”

“Who?”

“Her parents.”

Edmund stares at her in shock, almost fear. “What about her, parents, Hedwig?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Y/N told me that they’re creative with … punishments. They didn’t want her to come here … and now that she’s been gone for half a semester, I’m scared what they’re going to do to her once she comes back. She might not be allowed to come back … or they might hurt her.”

“Not on my fucking watch.”

He starts to walk back towards the school.

“What are you going to do?” Hedwig shouts behind him.

Edmund stops and walks back to her with burning, icy eyes. 

“I am going to get Y/N out of that house and you are going to keep killing here”, he says sharply. “Do you understand that, halfblood?”

“Me?!” Hedwig almost screams. 

Edmund covers her mouth with his hand. 

“Shut up”, he orders her, “or else the entire country will hear you.”

She removes his hand forcefully and glares at him. 

“Edmund, I can’t kill anyone”, she hisses. 

“Oh, you fucking can”, Edmund scoffs. “I know you’re not all nice. Don’t even try. You had no problem threatening me on on the quidditch court. You have no remorse when you give me information on the people that I kill. You can do it too, stop pretending to be some weak lamb.”

Hedwig doesn’t answer. 

“Why do I have to keep killing?” she mutters. “Y/N’s gone.”

“Because she won’t get to return otherwise”, Edmund replies. “If the headmaster realizes that the murders really do link with Y/N, she’ll never get to come back — they might even think it was her that killed them … and then she’ll be sent to Azkaban. Is that what you want?”

Hedwig shakes her head quickly. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. “My friends will help you kill whoever you need to. I am going to go get Y/N.”

“I know the muggle world better than you. Why can’t I go get her and you stay?”

“Because I don’t fucking trust you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care.”

With that said, he walks away, leaving Hedwig alone on the platform. 

You cry the entire way back. You haven’t done anything, why are you getting punished? It’s not fair. Now you’re getting sent back to your parents while the murderer is still allowed to roam the halls of Hogwarts. You’ll never be allowed to go back. 

When the train stops, you’re met by your parents outside the window. You remain in your seat. They go on board to get you when they realize that you refuse to come out. 

“Y/N, get up”, your mother says coldly. “Stop being childish.”

You don’t look at them, don’t answer. Your father grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you up from the seat. 

“Don’t touch me!” you shout. “I can walk by myself.”

You press yourself past them and walk out on the platform. The entire ride home is silent, but you know that the second the front door closes, you’ll know what hell feels like. And you’re of course right, because the second your father locks the front door behind you, you feel a slap over your cheek. With wide eyes, you back away and put your hand on your cheek. They have never put their hands on you. They have done countless embarrassing and hurtful punishments, but they have never hurt you physically. Not like this. if you weren’t stunned, you’d scream at them. 

“I don’t even want to look at you”, your mother says in disgust and walks into the living room. 

“Just go to your room and stay there”, your father says in the same manner. “I will confiscate all of your ‘magic’ supplies.”

You don’t question them and walk upstairs. The second you close your bedroom door behind you, you break out into sobs. You knew that this would happen at the end of the year, but you had wished that you could have stayed a semester, at least. It’s not fair. 

You sink down on your bed and hide your face in your hands and you sit like that for who knows how long. The sky turs dark and the moon greets you, but you ignore him. You don’t move out of your spot, not even when your stomach starts to growl. 

Suddenly, you can hear a crash from downstairs. Quickly, you stand up and are about to run over to the door, when you remember your parents. You don’t want to go downstairs and show them that the loud sound worried you. They don’t deserve that after what they’ve done. Instead, you cross your arms and lay down in bed, curling up in to a ball with your back towards the door. You shut out the sounds from downstairs, humming for yourself to drown them out. 

When you hear your door open, you’re too scared to turn around. 

“Y/N.”

Edmund? You turn around and see him standing in the doorway, blood dripping from his hair and covering his cloak. He smiles when seeing you, the first genuine smile you’ve ever seen him wear. He hurries over to you and hugs you tightly. You’re smushed against his chest and can feel his hands everywhere. His bloody hands. 

“W-What have you done?” you stutter into his neck while trying your best to push him off. 

“I’m here to save you!” he says. “Hedwig told me about your parents. They won’t keep you captive anymore.”

“What have you done?!”

You manage to push him off. He looks confused. 

“They were being mean to you, Y/N”, he says in a questionable manner. “They’ve hurt you. Your cheek …”

You can’t understand how he can sense a redness in the skin.

“What have you done?” you ask, quieter this time. 

“I’ve killed them”, he says firmly. “I killed them without magic. Just how mudbloods deserve to be killed.”

Your eyes widen. Your body goes cold at the thought of Edmund taking someone's life. It doesn't matter if he thinks that he's doing you a favor, the action itself is enough to make you mortified. You try to crawl back on the bed, but your head hits the wall, trapping you. Edmund grabs your leg and pulls you back, closer to him. 

“Don’t run away from me”, he tells you. “Not now. I came all the way here to help you.”

“How did you even get here?” you sob. 

“My father helped me. Now come here-”

You start to claw at him when he tries to pick him up, accidentally revealing the tattoo on his wrist. You stop dead in your tracks and he’s quick to pull his sleeve down. 

“Hedwig was right”, you pant. “You fucking monster!”

“Monster or not, I saved you”, Edmund reminds you and takes your moment of surprise to his advantage, pulling you over his shoulder. “Now we’re going.”

You start to scream and kick, so he wrestles you down on the floor in the corridor, picks something up from his pocket and pours something in your mouth. A liquid reminding you of Hedwig’s love potion. You cough to try to get it up, but Edmund covers your mouth with his hand and dictates it upwards, so you’ll have no other choice but to swallow the unfamiliar liquid. You feel your body grow numb in a minute. Your eyes are still open, you can still hear, but you can’t move. 

“Sorry for that, Y/N”, Edmund pants and picks you up again. “But you can’t behave. And I need you to be quiet.”

When he carries you downstairs, you can see the bloody bodies lying on the floor with limbs in positions and directions they definitely shouldn’t be in. You want to scream, but you can’t move. 

Edmund carries you out to something looking like a car, but you can telly hat it isn’t. It looks more like a carriage. He has a chauffeur in the front who starts to drive when Edmund has sitten down with you in his lap. The carriage flies, you notice when you spot your roof outside. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Edmund says and brushes the hair out of your face. “I didn’t want to numb you, I hope you know that.”

How fucking could you?

“Don’t give me that look.”

You killed my parents, you swine.

Edmund sighs and covers your eyes with his hand. He soon removes it when he feels water against his palm.

“Y/N, don't cry”, he sighs. “Why are you even upset? They wouldn’t let you come back to the place you belonged … they hurt you. Stop looking at me like I’m the bad guy here. Yes, I killed them but I did you a favor.”

He doesn't say more until the carriage stops outside of a dark house. Edmund carries you inside (where it's just as dark), up a pair of marmot stairs and into a bedroom. You can tell that it's his right away by the moving pictures of dark wizards on the wall. He lies you down on his bed and sit by your side, caressing your cheek until the potion is diluted enough in your blood for you to move. It won’t be fully gone until it has exited your body. You sit up and look around, feeling his eyes on you. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask quietly. “Did you kill all the others too? In school?”

Edmund nods. 

“You fucking creep”, you breathe out. 

Edmund scoffs, but doesn’t answer. “Aren’t you happy I killed them for you? Your parents are awful. They hurt you, they didn’t see your potential.”

“They were my fucking parents …”

“And they hurt you.”

Silence. 

“Your tattoo …”, you say hesitantly. “Why?”

Edmund covers his wrist with his hand, even though his shirt already hides the tattoo.

“What should I have done, do you think?” he asks. “When all around me want me to have it? Say no? And be discarded by everyone? I don’t think so.”

“You’ve sold your soul. You’re a monster.”

Edmund doesn’t answer. 

“Your family hates people like me, don’t they?” you ask. “What if I tell your father that you’re having me here? That his pureblood son is killing for a mudblood?”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare. In that case, he kills both of us, smartass.”

“I want Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s in on it too.” Edmund smiles. “Face it, darling, your parents would die sooner or later.”

It hits you that you’re an orphan now. You’re all alone. No house, no family … and apparently no friends. 

You’re allowed to return to Hogwarts a month later. Edmund brings you with him, holding you tightly by his side. 

“Y/N!” Hedwig shouts and runs over to you, hugging you tightly. “Sweetheart!”

You don't move. Hedwig pulls back and looks at you worriedly.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

“She knows”, Edmund says shortly.

“Oh … b-but you know that we did it for you, right? Y/N?”

“You disgust me”, you whisper. “Both of you.”

“Well, too fucking bad”, Edmund says. “You're stuck with us now. Tell anyone and I'm going to bring you back home. You want to stay here, don't you?”

You nod shortly.

“Then behave”, Edmund tells you.

“You'll not have a hard time doing that”, Hedwig smiles sadly and caresses your cheek. “You're such a lovely girl.”

You want nothing more than to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. Why did they have to ruin your magical place?

[kremlin]

"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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[catandrabbitt]

Late

you arrive back at the beach later than expected after a game. chishiya can’t help but to assume that you’re dead

yandere! chishiya shuntaro x reader

warnings: mentions of supposed death, manipulation, aggressive behaviors from chishiya, references to sexual activities but nothing happens, mentions of drugging but once again nothing happens

The blonde feels his patience running thin and his heart getting heavier. Every minute that passes by without you showing up only worsens his anxiety.

He has no right to be irritated. He knows that, but he can't help himself.

You had left to play a game earlier tonight, and still hadn't returned. The players that had come back to The Beach have already filtered through, and the only ones left in the hallway were Chishiya and Kuina.

"Chishiya, don't you think we should head back? It's getting pretty late—" Kuina was cut off by the bitter male.

"I didn't ask you to stick around. Go back if you want but I'm staying here." He snapped back, turning away from her.

Kuina knew that the blonde had a soft spot for you, loved you even. But she'd never seen him react this way before. Even Niragi had never managed to get him this worked up. He was practically bristling.

"She's intelligent and strong. I'm sure her car is just running late." Kuina said quietly, taking a hesitant step towards Chishiya.

The male didn't respond, choosing to ignore Kuina.

Kuina didn't know what to say. Chishiya usually kept his infatuation for you under wraps, but the way he was acting was worrying her. She feared what would happen if you did return tonight. Chishiya had already used his executive powers to move your bedroom next to his so that he could keep an eye on you.

"How about I stay and wait for her to come back? You need to get some rest." Against her better judgement, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Chishiya's shoulder.

Kuina flinched when the blonde turned around and shoved her hand off of him, an annoyed sneer on his face. "Don't touch me." He practically hissed at her. "Go back to your room, Kuina, and leave me alone for the night."

She swallowed thickly before lowering her hand, turning around, and heading back into the hotel.

A few more minutes passed, and Chishiya began to feel a soreness in the back of his throat. He was beginning to get choked up.

He shouldn’t be reacting this way. You weren’t a couple, but Chishiya was so infatuated by you. He couldn’t bare the thought of anything happening to you.

The sound of an engine coming closer pulled him from his thoughts. Hope blossomed in his chest as he saw headlights coming up the hotel driveway.

His eyes were glued to the car as the players pooled out, grumbling about a 'late game'. The last player to exit the car was you.

Relief flooded his system, but so did anger. How dare you scare him like that?

"Y/N." His cold voice called out, catching the attention of the tired girl. He noticed you had a cut on your cheek, and a deeper cut on your arm.

"Hey, Chishiya." You breathed out, clearly exhausted. "Late game tonight—"

"I don't care." He cut you off, his feline eyes narrowing into slits. Your eyes widened at his tone and blunt statement, and immediately noticed that he was angry.

"What's wrong—?"

"My room. Now." He said firmly, before turning around and beginning to walk inside. You were confused, but followed nonetheless. You were neighbors, after all, so there wasn’t anywhere you really could go.

You trailed silently after the fuming blonde, wondering what could have possibly set him off like this. He was usually so calm and collected that it was concerning to see him act this way.

"Chishiya, what happened? Did—" He cut you off once more by practically ripping his door off the hinges.

"Get inside." He ordered through grit teeth. You stared at him for a few moments, trying to get a read on him, before deciding it was pointless and hesitantly trailing inside. You heard the door slam behind him as he entered after you.

The two of you stood in silence. Chishiya had his hands in his pockets and you had your arms crossed.

"What the hell was that, Y/N?" Chishiya finally said, his eyebrow twitching.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Chishiya said lowly, stepping closer to you. "Coming back from your game late and nearly giving me a heart attack? I stood outside for almost an hour, waiting for you to return."

You scoffed, feeling a twinge of annoyance that he had the audacity to be mad at you. "I can't help that my game ran longer than it was supposed to. I didn't strike you as the type to care, anyway. Since when have you concerned yourself with other people's deaths?"

Chishiya was practically chest-to-chest with you at this point. While he was a generally shorter male, he still had a height advantage over you by a few inches.

He didn't answer you for a few moments, only glaring down at you.

"You reserve no right to be mad at me." You said, quiet enough for him to hear. "You'd sacrifice me if you had the chance just to save your own ass."

You shoved him away from you, going to leave his room. However, Chishiya caught your wrist and pulled you back towards him, wrapping his arms around you.

"You're wrong." Chishiya muttered, pushing your back into the wall where he now had you pressed against. "We're meant to be, Y/N. I can't help that I care about you."

"'Meant to be'?" She almost scoffed. "Ever since I've known you I got the vibe that you hated me, and now you're spouting this bullshit? Get a grip, Chishiya. You're manipulating me." You tried pushing him away again, but he only pressed you back into the wall.

"I'm not. You're mine, and I'll be damned if I let the games or anyone else take you from me." His breath was hot against your face. You had never seen Chishiya this riled up.

You didn't know what to say. You avoided his fiery gaze for a couple moments, before he sighed and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Allow me to bandage you up." He uttered after a few seconds, pulling away from you and tugging you towards his bed. "Sit."

You obeyed his simple command as Chishiya entered his bathroom. You could hear some cabinets opening and closing, items being shuffled around before he returned with a first aid kit and some napkins.

"Since when do you know how to tend wounds?" You raised an eyebrow, an attempt at trying to lighten the mood.

He glanced up at you, an unimpressed look on his face. "I'm a doctor." His statement was cold and blunt. You practically felt relief that he was finally back to acting how he usually does, rather than the side of Chishiya you saw moments prior.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Chishiya bandaged your arm and face up and cleaned up any blood, and you just watched him.

Your eyes trailed his figure as he got up to put the first aid kit back into the restroom. When he came back, you stood up. "Thanks for the help, doc. I think I'm gonna head back to my room for the night."

When you made a move for the door, Chishiya intercepted you, standing in front of the doorway.

You sighed, fed up with him tonight. "What has gotten into you tonight, Chishiya? Sure, my car was late, but—"

"Stay with me tonight." He stated, not breaking eye contact with you. "Don't worry, we won't do anything if you're worried about that. My bed has more than enough space for us both."

You would stay with him regardless. He could only hope that you’d stay willingly, so that he wouldn't have to use force on you.

"Please." He added after a few moments, for good measure.

There's a small, sadistic glint in his eyes that makes you uneasy. His behavior tonight was making you on edge.

Finally, you sighed once more and crossed your arms. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Definitely." There was no hesitation with his response.

"Alright then. I'll stay for tonight." You accepted, ignoring the voice in the back of your head saying that this was not a good idea at all.

"Glad to hear it. I wouldn't have wanted things to get nasty." Chishiya gave you his signature sly smirk. "Go ahead and get comfortable."

You made your way over to his bed silently as he heads off towards the bathroom. You were pushing your nerves down, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay.

While he was gone, you contemplated rushing out the door. However, you knew that if Chishiya really wanted you to stay tonight, he’d either drag you back or just stay in your room.

You had barely made it under the blankets by the time Chishiya emerged from the restroom, a faint minty air surrounding him now. He got on the bed from the other side, slipping under his blankets.

You let out a squeak as Chishiya's surprisingly strong arms wrapped around you, effectively pressing you against him as he snuggled farther under the blankets. One of his hands gently rubs against your back, the other brushing against your hair.

"Chishiya..?" You whispered, a little nervous at the sudden contact.

"What? Not a big cuddler?" You could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

"It's not that. I just didn't expect you to be a big cuddler." You replied, cautiously wrapping your arms around his waist. If you could see his face, you would have seen the way his face reddened at your acceptance.

He actually smelled really nice, like fresh rain and peppermint. This might not be so bad.

Your head snuggled deeper into his embrace, much to his enjoyment. Very soon, you began to fall asleep in his arms, surprisingly relaxed.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed. Chishiya felt the way your breathing slowed, how your grip loosened ever so slightly on his waist.

He hummed, watching your chest rise up and down rhythmically. "Y/N?" You don’t respond, confirming that you were already fast asleep.

A cruel smile that he had been suppressing all night makes it's way across his face.

Finally, he got the chance to fall asleep with you. And even better, cuddle. He hadn't meant to scare you when he got mad, but he couldn't help it. If he lost you, he didn't know what he'd do, or if he could even handle it.

It's okay. It all worked out well in the end.

Chishiya smirks at your still-tight cling to his waist.

Maybe too well.

He's glad that you agreed without too much of a struggle. He sighed and pressed a ghost of a kiss to your cheek.

Of course, on any other night he could have dragged you from your room and forced you to fall asleep with him, but imagining you thrashing around and trying to get away from him left a bad taste in his mouth.

If you had walked out of his room tonight, he would have had to drug you or hurt you to get what he wanted.

He prefers this scenario much, much more, with you as a conscious and willing participant.

Maybe you two would have to do this again.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n: part ten! Surprise! Thought I would treat you all. 🤫🫨🫂

warning: kids, past trauma, blood, mention of puking, wounds, Illyrian camps, alcohol, smoking, nightmares.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The wind blew behind the window. Steady tapping and hoots echoed through the empty house. Even the flame in the fireplace seemed to sway to the melody of the wind. You sat in one of the plush chairs. Feet tucked beneath you. A blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Yet it didn't seem to warm you. Nothing seemed to warm you these days. No matter what you did, you always felt a chilly sensation twirling deep within you.

Your eyes felt heavy. Sleep was another thing that did not come easy. You had tried, but the longest you had managed to stay put was an hour, and after that, you had been up, pacing the rooms. Worry ripping at your skin. You had hoped to see Azriel once you could manage to lift yourself from the bed, but he had done everything he could to avoid you. I don't want to accept it. Your voice echoed through your mind. If only you could take them back. Go back in time and scratch it all up. Explain it all to Azriel before asking him for time. Before saying that you simply couldn't do it now, it didn't mean that you didn't want it in the end. You did want him, but then, did he want you?

A sickness crept up your throat, and you stood quickly. Waiting for the nausea to subside. Home. You wanted to go home. The only issue was that you no longer knew where home was. Was it back in the sanctuary? At Cordelia's? With Azriel? A cold shiver ran down your back, your skin growling clammy. When you stated to Rhys that you wanted to be escorted to the sanctuary, he simply shook his head. "What do you mean, no? You can't deny me...", but the high lord only gave you a tight smile and said, "It's Azriel's order. You're to stay in the house of wind".

You had let out a huff, "I'm not a prisoner! And if he wants to order me around, he better grow a pair and do it himself". Rhys had only laughed at your words, tilting his head back in clear delight. He was enjoying this way too much, this smug ass. "You sure keep him humbled", the high lord snickered. But his delight soon faded, "You'll be safe in the house of wind, Y/N. We both know there are many more males..." You had turned to the high lord at such speed that you nearly gave yourself a whiplash. "That wants me dead. Then let them. Let's end this and move on", you said through gritted teeth. "I can't", Rhys said bluntly, "I couldn't back then and especially can't now when my brother's life is linked with yours".

Panic rose over your body. Your hands trembled as you moved to walk once more. You couldn't sit still. You couldn't. Taking in a sharp breath, you plunged within your heart, trying to find that barely flicking bond. Trying to tug. Trying to... Azriel, you called, your voice barely a whisper. Of course, you guessed it. You might have practically grown up between the iron walls, but you knew what mates were. Or you had suspected. But you had never allowed yourself the time and luxury to dream of such things. They would make one weak. And there was no kindness in...

The sound of footsteps made you whirl back. Eyes catching a glimpse of a tiny frame. Zofie peered through the corner, earless in her hand. The poor empath had been exhausted. With you and Axel in distress, she was barely managing to juggle the emotions everyone felt. From anger to heartbreak. Yet she stood through it all, unyielding. You opened your arms for the little girl without a second thought. After all, the two of them were all you had. Zofie's bare feet tapped against the wooden floor.

"Why are you up, little one?", you asked softly as she nuzzled deeper into your embrace. "Is Mr. Earless snoring again?", brushing her messy raven hair, you smiled down at her. Zofie only shook her head, "Do your hands hurt?", she asked you instead, cutting the chase. Wanting to know the source of your discomfort. "No, Zo, nothing hurts. I'm just not tired, baby", you hoped your lies struck the truth for her, but the girl only tilted her head to the side. Eyeing up the dark bags beneath your eyes. The grayish tint your skin had gained. "Is it your back?", the girl asked, her eyes big as she looked at you. Her question stole the breath from your lungs, but you quickly shook your head.

"I promise, you don't have to worry", you said, cupping her cheek. Zofie bit her lip, her eyes darting towards the window. "I miss Azriel", she admitted finally. She had been the one who had taken the spymaster's absence the hardest. Or more like the one who showed her emotions openly regarding that. You knew that Axel also missed Azriel. The boy had scrubbed drawings of him but hidden them beneath his bed so no one would see them. You caught glimpses of him trying to train throughout the day. Then frustration would strike when he would lose his balance and Azriel wasn't there to catch him or correct his movements. Angry tears followed suit. Come back; you would call in moments like that; come back for them at least, please. But it was the same unbreakable wall you hit all the time. Icy yet thick with shrouded thorns.

"He doesn't like us anymore, doesn't he? If it's because of what Ax said,", the girl rambled on, her eyes building up with tears. You asshole, you banged your fists against the cold wall Azriel had built between the two of you, I hope you're seeing this. But you bit through the anger. Because you couldn't. You could hurt yourself. You can suffocate, but not them. Not the kids. "Listen to me; what I said that day, I said because I was upset", you cupped her already crimson cheeks. "Azriel loves you two; he's just...", Your words trailed off, "He's away on a mission, hence why he hasn't been here for a while. But he will come see you both when he returns". The hope that bloomed in Zofie's golden eyes made you want to let out a sob. She held onto your hands. "Will he actually?", you nodded your head without hesitation. You'd find a way to make him see them at least one last time. You would find a way. "Good", Zofie nodded quickly, "Axel has written him an apology letter, and I drew him a picture. He'll have to read it". Her innocent voice was so full of hope that it made your eyes sting.

Azriel could barely see through the cloud of smoke he puffed out. He was not the one to use stimulants like that. The state of intoxication always left him uneasy. His sharp senses dulled out. And Azriel held himself to high standards. He always needed to be in shape and prepared to act and make decisions. But the past week had been nothing but a mercy cloud of whatever herbs he had snatched from a local dealer. The longing and pull were so strong that the spymaster was ready to do everything to keep you off his mind.

But he failed. Failed at late night hours the most. During the day, he felt you struggling on the other side, kicking at his mental shields and scraping your nails at them. So he knew you were well if you had the energy for all that. It's at night when it all halted that all the lingering fears slip into Azriel's head. What ifs swirling around. And when he no longer managed to grasp you on the other side, he would winnow. Winnow to the house of wind. He would walk through the quiet house until he was right in front of your slumbering figure.

Most nights, he watched you and the kids like that. One of you would stir, and he would turn into nothing more than a shadow. There were nights when Azriel dared to brush his fingers over your forehead or run his hand over one of the kids' backs soothingly. Azriel hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with their distress. But it lingered all over. Zofie's tiny body seemed even smaller, and that alone ripped out a chunk of the spymaster's heart.

"Maker", Azriel's head jerked up to the sound of an empty bottle rolling across the floor. A handful of curses followed suit. "Ah, that's a handful more than when we checked last time", Cassian's voice ran through the hallway. "He's alive", the lord of bloodshed cheered, clapping his hands, but he only earned a huff from his high lord, "Shut it, Cass". Azriel knew that he should go and greet them. That was part of the Nothing Bad Is Going On Act, scene three. But he couldn't be bothered tonight. Not after he heard you sobbing through the bond. Crying till you turned to heave. His blood was burning from the neglect. Everything in his body screamed for him to go, but he stayed lying on a messy mattress. He had never bothered to buy a bed frame. He never cared.

"You are unbelievable", an old shirt flicked onto Azriel's chest. He didn't need to move to feel Rhys's angry gaze. "Get your ass up; we're going to train", the high lord ordered, nudging Azriel's leg with his foot. It was almost funny how not long ago they all grumbled about Nesta's living condition. Alcohol consumption. And here he was. The spymaster of the night court. Azriel draped an arm over his tired eyes. "I told you to come here only when it was necessary", the shadowsinger muttered. Hoping to usher these busybodies away.

"It is important", Rhys shuffled behind, no doubt picking up the empty bottles. "You are wasting away", Rhys had gone easy on Azriel with work. It almost felt like a full-circle moment. Azriel couldn't help but remember how Rhys had wept after he realized that Feyre was his mate and the girl had gone back with Tamlin. "Come on, Az, this is insane", even Cassian's voice held a thread of worry, but Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care. He had been selfish once again. So what was the reason?

"How is she?", the words slipped past Azriel's lips before he even realized it. No matter what he did, you were always on his mind. No matter what he did, getting rid of your presence in his senses seemed impossible. "I have an insane suggestion for you", Cassian answered, no doubt getting fed up. "You will be shocked when I'll tell you ", Cassian kneeled next to his brother, poking at his side before saying, "How about you go check yourself?"

Azriel only rolled his eyes. Everyone was urging him to speak. Even his mother had scolded him. "You'll grow to regret this, boy", she said, pointing a warning finger at him and shaking her head. But you said it yourself—I don't want to accept it. And for the third time in his life, Azriel was left to be a fool. Mor. Elain. Now his mate. One he had dreamed for as long as he remembered.

Azriel shook his head as he moved to sit up. Head pounding from the alcohol and the lack of sleep, "She doesn't want to do anything with me", those words stung because you had been barging into his mind without a break. "You don't know that", Rhys said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Azriel. "Did you let her explain herself, or did you tuck your tail beneath your legs and run?", the high lord huffed. Azriel shot him an angry look. "Fuck you", the spymaster barked. Rhys only nodded, "Mature, get your ass up". But Azriel stayed seated. Trying to win the staring contest. "You gave up on them real quick", but Cassian didn't get to finish because Azriel had his hand on his brother's neck. The lord of bloodshed pressed against the nearest wall. "I. Did. Not. Give. Up. On. Them", Azriel snared each and every word through gritted teeth. His hand jabbed against the middle of Cass's neck. He's been feeling so on edge. So in need to punch something. He had shattered the mirror in his bathroom but it did little to soothe his frustration. Cassian didn't back away as he snarled back, pushing against his brother, "Then go to her; she's practically walked holes in the floor up there". Azriel pulled back. He turned away from him to brush his fingers through his hair. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything to keep his mind off this.

"Do you have the reports from the camp?", he turned to Rhys. Cassian pulled at Azriel's arm, "Don't change the topic, ass". But Spymaster ignored him, his eyes on Rhys. "Do you?", he repeated the question. "I do", Rhys said calmly, not a single trace of emotion on his face. "Give them to me", Azriel extended his palm towards Rhys, who only looked down at it, not amused. "No", the high lord said simply, "It involves information that's... sensitive". Azriel let out a huffed laugh, "Bullshit". He stepped closer to the high lord, who simply raised his palm, silencing the male, "Azriel, enough". Azriel gritted his teeth in return, "You can walk yourself out", he barked out, turning from the two males as he reached for another bottle.

You were braiding Zofie's hair when a dark swirl appeared in the living room. Your breath hitched. Hope blooming in your stomach. But it all fizzled out as quickly as it sprouted. It was Rhsy, Feyre right next to him. The kids instantly stood up, bowing. You couldn't help but smile. The two had been mesmerized by the high lord and lady. To Axel Rhys was still a floating head, but since the high lord didn't seem to mind the constant reminder of that, the boy continued to wave that card around.

"To what do we own the pleasure", You stood as well, smiling at the two. You looked like a rag doll that's been dragged through dirt compared to their neatly pressed clothes. "You all should come to have dinner with us", Rhys said calmly, that cat-like smile on his lips. Feyre nodded to her mate's words, "Staying stuffed in here doesn't help. I'm sure"; you knew that the high lady had spent her fair share of days here herself. "The paintings keep me entertained", you gestured to the painted furniture and the colorful walls. A laugh slipped past her lips as she too looked around.

"You can take the kids. It'll be nice for them to see Nyx", you ruffled Axel's hair, and the boy instantly stepped forward, reaching for the high lady. Zofie followed suit. But it was Rhys who wasn't too pleased with that decision. At least not fully. "I don't want to leave you here alone", the male stated, his eyes darker than moments ago. "I'll be fine", you said, smiling at him, but he didn't return the gesture. "Rhys, I'll be fine", you stated once again, not failing to catch a glimpse of worry that flashed across his face. Worry that seeped into your bones, "What is it? Did something happen to Azriel? The high lord shook his head quickly. "No, no", he reassured you, "I just revisited the day I brought you to the sanctuary". You reached to clasp his hand, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through you, "Don't think about it. It's not worth it".

You felt as if you were on fire but also freezing at the same time. Your back felt sore; you didn't remember the mattress feeling so hard. You moved your finger over the surface, halting when you didn't feel the plush material beneath you. Solid, cold ground met the tips of your fingers. You sat up quickly. No. No. No. There was no way. The breeze flew past you. The only comfort left for you. The camp buzzed around you. People were walking past. A lady let go of her daughter, the girl rushing to thread a wildflower through the bars. No. You crawled toward her. Hands reaching for the iron polls. "Please", you breathed. "Tell them", but the girl only laughed as she hurried away. You pushed your hand through the gap, trying to wave her over again. Wave anyone over. But no one stopped. No one listened. No one answered.

You jolted up. Cold sweat dripping down your body. You quickly pushed the blanket off. You must have fallen asleep while waiting for Rhys to bring the kids back. You reached for the wood, throwing a couple of logs into the fire. The floor creaked behind you, making you jump. Hiss fell from your lips when the back of your leg met the flame blazing behind you. You leaped forward, hissing, hand-moving to run down the sore spot. And then it echoed again. The same noise. The same footsteps as that night. A glass hit the ground. You jumped forward without a single thought. Yanking the door open, bare feet sinking into the fresh snow as you ran.

Azriel's eyes shot open. He wasn't in deep sleep; he was sure of it. The sleep he had managed to slip into was simply gray. Dreamless. There was no sound. Nothing seemed off. Until an ache ran through him. His feet grew cold. A shiver. Azriel sat up. His senses perked up. Something was wrong. But none of his shadows posted at the watch spots had been triggered. And then the same images of the ever-recurring nightmare flashed through his eyes. The snow. The river. Arrows. The delicate white turned a deep shade of red. And then, as if all at once, your panic hit his chest. Making him growl. "Y/N", he muttered. "Find her", Azriel roared, shadows leaping into the night as the spymaster stood, broad shadows filling the space as he too winnowed.

You had no idea where you were running. You knew that the only way down the mountain was a handful of stairs, but you couldn't find them. They were snowed in. Had to be. The wind blew right through you. The silk nightgown did nothing to protect your skin. But you didn't care; you had to get away. You would never go back. They would never... Your foot slipped. Your body weight shifted as you tumbled to the ground. Sliding down the side of the peak. Nails digging into the frozen ground, hoping to catch onto something, anything.

You hit the ground with a thud, the snow breaking the fall slightly. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, but the voice inside your head urged you to get going. You turned to get up, reaching for a branch, only to feel it snap beneath your weight. A frustrated cry slipped past your lips. The snowstorm was picking up. A dark shadow flew over your head. "No", you muttered, hurrying to pick yourself up, darting towards the dead trees, trying to leap between them. Branches caught onto the thin material, ripping slits into it, scratching your skin. You had to get away. If you could just make it down the hill, someone would...

A hand gripped your shoulder, and you let out a scream, trying to duck away. But the grip didn't ease. You trashed in their grip with all that you had. "Y/N", a voice roared. "No", you said, trying to claw your way out. "Y/N", it called once more, "Love." Darkness swallowed you as two huge wings spread over your body. Your eyes followed the curve of it.

"Look at me, hey", a warm palm touched your cheek, making you blink a couple of times. Azriel stood right in front of you. Eyes filled with worry. "What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?", he huffed, looking down at your scratched-up body. But you didn't care; you couldn't... Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, shaking. Azriel didn't miss a beat, his arms wrapping around your delicate frame. Hissing at the coldness of your skin.

"You're barefoot; Mother strike me", he huffed, dipping to pull you up into his arms. "We can't go", you said, shaking your head, making Azriel frown. "We can't; there's someone. They are in the house", the spymaster only watched you. Purple lips. Teary eyes. Bloody fingers. "No one can get into the house beside us, love", Azriel muttered, watching your terrified eyes. How was he able to walk away? Leave you like this... After it all... The spymaster gritted his teeth. "Let's get you warmed up", he muttered, shooting up into the sky.

You stayed by the same fireplace, feet dunked in a warm water bath made by Azriel. He was walking through the house, checking every single door and every window. Right now, you couldn't tell him what was part of your dream and what happened actually. Everything you heard and felt mushy, mixed up together, but Azriel didn't press.

"Nothing seems broken. It's probably just the wind", he muttered, handing you a cup of tea. Oh, how the tables had turned. "You need to get out of the damp clothes", Azriel said bluntly. "It's fine", you muttered, not lifting your eyes up. "You're in a bloody silk nightgown that's drenched", his voice picked up. Whatever you still had on your body, left very little to the imagination. The swell of your breasts was visible through the damp material clinging to your skin, and the slit, a tree so gracefully granted you, finished right over your hip.

"Azriel", you breathed, closing your eyes. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now. "Where are the kids?", Azriel muttered, no doubt having looked for them in the rooms. "At Rhys's. I thought seeing Nyx would cheer them up", you breathed out, setting the cup of tea down. The mug felt scorching hot in your frozen palms. "They miss you", you added after a moment, finally daring to look up. Only to be met with that same mask of coldness. Unapproachable mountain. "I don't think so", he huffed, even if deep down he knew that he was wrong. It was easier to stay away if he kept telling himself that. "You're petty over something a scared child told you?", you shook your head, huffing. "Something YOU told them", Azriel stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. Watching as a flash of guilt ripped through you. Hating the way you lowered your gaze instantly.

"Have you seen her", it was petty to ask. If he wanted, he could. You had grown jealous of her in the past week. Of how she had Azriel in ways you hadn't. "What if I have?", Azriel's words made a shiver run down your back. An angry tear slipped down your cheek. Azriel's face fell at the sight of that, his anger and frustration fizzing out as he turned to kneel in front of you. "I haven't. I swear I haven't. I didn't... I didn't even think of her once", he said in one breath. He was desperate now to chase the ache that bloomed in his chest.

"Do you see why I don't want it now? Don't want it like this?", you breathed out. "You're not over her, and I'm not here", you said, shaking your head. "Elain chose Lucien; they are mated", Azriel said firmly. "It didn't stop you last time", you muttered, turning away from him. "They are happy, she settled. Y/N, they walked in there after fucking", he exclaimed. Frustration dripping off him. "And the only woman I want to bend over and...", he halted, his chest raising up and down frantically.

"I know how it goes. The frenzy and all", you rubbed your palms together, "I'm not ready for that". Your voice sounded so small, and it ripped at Azriel. He moved to hook a finger beneath your chin. "Do you think I would do anything against your will?", "I didn't want you to leave, but you did", a shiver ran down Azriel's back. Not only did he leave, he didn't answer your calls for a week. Too deep in self-pity. "I'm sorry", Azriel muttered, closing his eyes and dipping his head. "I just...", he muttered, "My whole life, I've been waiting for you, and the thought of you rejoicing me... it blinded me".

You watched him for a moment—a male so big, looking so small—in front of you. You leaned closer to him, cupping his cheek. Tugging on the bond slightly. Making the sides of Azriel's lips curve up. "I want you... just...", you swallowed thickly, the images of your nightmare swirling at the tip of your tongue, "Be patient with me".

"I'm sorry for how I reacted", Azriel said, moving to thread his fingers through your hair, "There's no rush. I told you, I'll wait, and I will". You leaned closer to him, resting your forehead against his. Breathing him in. "But you do need to change because I'm only a man", he huffed, making you let out a laugh. "Is this too seductive for you, sir?", you purred, making Azriel growl. "You will be a death for me, sweet", his hand gripped your hips just how he liked it, slippery silk bunching up in his palms.

His lips brushed just over yours before he pulled away. "Can I kiss you?", Azriel muttered, inches away from you. You tilted your head back slightly, suddenly feeling giddy. "A bit late to ask that, no?" Azriel shook his head, his palm nestling in the crook of your neck as he pulled you closer. "Yes or no?", lustful need swirled in his golden orbs, but he waited for your answer regardless. "Why don't you try and find out", you hummed, unraveling the last bits of Azriel's self-control.

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @caroline-books

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will. 

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house. 

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage. 

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear. 

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn’t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove. 

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you. 

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud. 

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness. 

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing. 

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here) 

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor.  You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut. 

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag. 

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply  as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands. 

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence. 

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

[surielstea]

Ballroom Secrets

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!reader

Summary: Eris and reader are secretly mates and can't keep their hand to themselves

Warnings: Fluff, suggestiveness at the end

2.3k words

I glance at the high lord of autumn from across the ballroom, my eyes locking with his as he speaks to one of his brothers— or rather the red head spoke to him while Eris just stared at me, the golden leaf crown on his head slightly tilted and my hands itched to fix it, to run my hands through those russet wavy locks. I suppress a sigh and rip my gaze away from his, crossing my arms over my chest and returning to the conversation I was having with the high lady of the night court— but I could still feel those amber eyes, trailing all over my body from head to toe and lighting me on fire.

Keeping our romance a secret wasn't going to last very long if he kept stripping me down with those golden eyes that seemed to observe my every movement. "Stop staring," I bite through the bond. We were lucky enough to have it click while we were away on a mission together, the after effects of accepting it took us full throttle, the frenzy taking us captive for over a week.

After he became high lord and that power surged through him he had this need for me. Gods, were we lucky enough that I happened to be in the summer court that week, neighboring his court. "You make it hard not to stare." He replies after a moment and I have to fight the flush on my cheeks away. "Dance with me?" He asked for what must've been the twelfth time that night. I rolled my eyes. "I already told you, we can't." I tell him, reiterating my words.

"I'm a high lord, I can dance with whomever I like, and I like you." He says, an arrogant tone coating his sly voice and my stomach does flips. "My brother will gut you." I explain, as if he doesn't already know. "The lord of bloodshed will manage." He hummed, needing me in his grasp. "No he won't, one time Helion hit on me and Cass gave him a black eye." I confess and I feel a twinge of jealousy run through the bond that connects us. "Helion hit on you?" He asks, completely missing the point of that story. "Every time I see him." I reply with a grumble.

"I want him dead." He says casually. "You're not funny." I retort. "Who said I was joking?" He huffs childishly and I allow my eyes to drift back to him, giving him a cold glare as he shamelessly pouted, his bottom lip dipping out like a child not getting what he wants. "Why don't you find another girl to dance with?" I offer to the male. "Do you really want that?" He asks and I think on it, bouncing on my heels slightly at the thought of my mate dancing with another girl, even if it was strictly platonic.

"No." I grumble in reply and look out onto the dance floor. "Exactly." He hums cockily and I shut him out, putting walls around the bond we constantly have glamoured. "I'm going to get a drink." I say to Feyre who stood beside me. "Want anything?" I offer and she shakes her head no. "I'm okay, thank you." Her soft smile relaxes me and I excuse myself, walking the length of the ballroom and avoiding the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" He asked, somehow breaking through those shields. "I need a glass of wine." I confess, the table full of select Fae liquors and ornate crystal glasses being on the table, that just so happened to be right beside him. He rose a brow as I walked closer to him, only a few feet away, the distance he quickly closed by stepping beside me, his bicep bumping my shoulder, the heat that radiated from his body made me ache I wanted to be in bed, wearing little to nothing and cuddling into him, his warm embrace that always filled that pit in my stomach.

"When can we leave?" I ask, plucking a wine glass from the row of them. He reaches around my shoulder and for a second I think he's pulling me closer to him but in reality he was only grabbing a whiskey glass, the fire that was his skin still lingering even after he removed his arm from around my bare shoulders.

"As soon as we dance, at least once." He hums and I shift on my heels. "Would it look bad if we left together?" I wonder as I look at the wine labels, I wasn't entirely interested in the vendors but I had to seem distracted somehow. "That's up to you doll, I'd fuck you on this table in front of all of these people and not care," He confesses and my cheeks go bright red. How could he say something like that aloud and expect me not to react? "You're the one with the problematic brother." He mutters and a frown forms on my lips. "My brother might be problematic but he's not being the issue." I mumble as I pour myself a glass of maroon liquid, filling it alarmingly full.

I look over my shoulder and spot the General speaking with Azriel. It'd be horrible to dance with the high lord of autumn right now but I wanted his hands on me, I need him to pull me close and this was the only way to do it without alarming everyone in the room. I can justify dancing to my brother. It's just dancing. "What're you thinking about little fox?" I whip my head back to him, looking into those eyes full of warmth, swirling like golden pools I wanted to swim in.

"Oh fuck it," I grumble aloud, abandoning my freshly poured glass and pulling him out onto the dance floor by his wrist. A cocky smile spreads across his face and I toss him a glare. "Do not even start." I mutter and wrap my arms around his neck, his hands span the width of my waist with ease, like they belonged there, perfectly slotted.

"I wasn't going to say anything," He replied mischievously, looking off to anywhere but my glowering eyes. "You're a fool." I shake my head with an amused smile. "Fool for you," He hums, sending adoration down the bond and the music begins.

The way Eris and I dance is fluid, twirling in and out as my dress moved with me, the soft fabric cascading into a skirt like a waterfall of silk. Every time he spun me out he'd pull me back in so much closer to his chest, at one point I had far too much momentum and had slammed right into his pressed suit, his hold tightened around me and he kept me there.

His warmth filled me whole, my hands ached for more, as if he was a hearth and I needed to be defrosted from the harsh bite of the winter wind. I look up at him and he was already staring down at me, I allow myself to give him a gentle smile and he returns it without caution.

"You just couldn't wait until we got home could you?" I muse and he shakes his head no, swaying us softly as the song came to a stop. I reach up to his russet locks and adjust his crown so it was even, sighing in satisfaction now that it was fixed. "Can we go home?" He asked as I push a russet wave from his forehead. "I want to," I look down to see a shadow curling around my wrist. "Let me say my goodbyes, I'll meet you at home." I back away with a gentle smile, I want to kiss him goodbye but I know better with Azriel's shadows around.

I pivot on my high heel and walk away from my mate before he can protest and winnow us into the ether. Crossing through the ballroom attempting to carve a path to the lord of bloodshed, shadows rushing after me until I reached the two finely dressed Illyrians who were staring at me like disappointed fathers.

"What?" I look between them confused as if I don't know who I was just with. "The fuck were you doing with him?" Cassian practically growls and I roll my eyes. "He's our ally Cass, it'd be rude to ignore his offer to dance." I retort and Azriel narrows his eyes at me like he can read through my select truths. "Ignore him, I don't blame you for dancing with the high lord." Nesta winks at me and I have to refrain from flushing. "Yeah I'm sure you know a lot about that." My brother casts her a glare. "He's not with me now is he?" She spits at him and I can't help but release a giggle.

"I'm going home, steal a bottle of wine for me." I say to him, a tradition between me and my brother to always steal at least one thing from events like these, sometimes the spymaster joins in occasionally he used to swipe necklaces off of wealthy women and gifted me all of them— but he was banned by Rhys after taking the game a little too seriously and stealing a chandelier right off the ceiling.

"Don't forget we have training at dawn." Cassian reminds and I groan as I back away. "Goodbye." I give them a wave. "Dawn." Cassian reminds and the other two just wave as I go.

I pass by Feyre and Morrigan, giving them both a kiss on the cheek and a quick goodbye before slipping from the ballroom with a small smile, excited for what awaits for me at my home.

I winnow back to my apartment that was on the edge of the river, Amren residing in a few complexes over. I spot Eris lounging on the couch, already comfortable with his shoes off, manspreading across the cushions. I kicked my heels off and released a long sigh. "I need to get this thing off." I mutter, referring to my heavy dress that dragged across the ground. "That, I can help with." He shoots up from the couch and follows me into our shared bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights as he worked at the laces along my back, loosening them and allowing me to fully breathe. I take a deep inhale and a slow exhale as I walk over to my armoire and pick out a night gown.

I quickly change from the midnight blue dress and pull myself into a soft white dress that went to my thighs. I look at my dress on the ground, then to Eris. I decide I'll hang it up tomorrow, needing to be in his arms now. He stretches out his arms for a hug but I jump right into them, hooking my legs around his torso, my arms around his neck. He didn't so much as stumble back.

He walks us out of the bedroom and to the sitting area, flicking his hand and the hearth flourishes in flames, he places me down onto my feet and I look up at him cheekily. "Dance with me?" I intertwine our hands and a genuine smile pulls at his sensuous lips. "Of course." He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead.

This time when we danced and he twirled me in and out it was easy, we weren't worried about the next step, weren't following any choreography, just making it up along the way. He had me flush against his back as we swayed, then spun me around and tugged me back in so I was facing him. There was talking and laughing, simple and so comforting. To just converse and dance and do whatever we wanted without anyone's eyes on us.

His head hangs low as it nuzzles into my neck. "I love you." He whispers softly against my skin and my heart nearly melts. "I love you too Eris." I smile and he stands upright. I unclasped my hands from behind his neck and bring them up to cup his cheeks. His hands roam my body, winding down the curve of my ass, then reaching my thighs and allowing me to jump up into his arms, he cradled me with his large arms that I wanted to be constantly wrapped in.

I grin and pluck the golden crown from his head and place it atop mine, except it was far too big and fell to the bridge of my nose. He chuckled as I was temporarily blinded by the gold. "I'll get you your own crown." He said and I smile, taking the piece of nobility off and placing it back onto his head, my hands then running down the sides of his face.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you on that dance floor." I hum, pecking his jaw. "I have some idea," He looks at me, from this angle our eyesight is aligned, golden eyes practically glowing in the dim lighting and I can't take it anymore, I place my hands on the back of his neck and pull him so much closer, his lips planting on mine and I blossom in warmth. He hums against my lips as I open my mouth slightly and allow his tongue to slip between my lips.

His movements lacked hesitance, like he was so sure that this is where he was meant to be. His finger pads press firmly into the bottom of my thighs and I arch my back so my chest was pressed against his. He takes his steps blindly with his lips still attached to mine, not daring to pull away if even to walk us back to the bedroom.

"I don't think you're making it to training tomorrow, little fox." He murmurs into my mouth. "Why?" I mutter with creased brows. "Cause you won't be able to walk." He smirks against me and my stomach does backflips.

Part II here.