#you know besides the slit wrists and blood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muntitled · 1 month ago

Text

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game smut #salesman x reader #salesman smut #the salesman #the salesman x reader #the salesman squid game #the salesman smut #the salesman fanfic #gong yoo x reader #gong yoo

4K notes · View notes

chosopie · 11 months ago

Note

Hear me out: Conquer Sukana who killed y/n bethroned and Y/n, a very high ranking princess convinces Sukana who leave her baby brother, Yuji be. Yuji is a 3 year old who often clinging to y/n since Sukana basically stole the throne. Sukana falls for the beautiful y/n

CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Master, it would be best if you spared them. They have done nothing against you,” Uraume spoke while he stood by Sukuna’s tall figure that loomed over you and your baby brother Yuji’s shaking figure. “Perhaps, you could even keep Lady Y/N L/N. She is known for her intelligence and her way with the sword.”

You stood in front of your little brother, arms spread open to shield his small body. Your face was covered in sweat and the blood of the man you were betrothed to. Now that he was dead, you were going to be queen—the queen of the foreign conquerer. It was unfair, but this was the rule and tradition every nation had mutually agreed upon. It was survival of the strongest. Those who are strong enough shall take what they can.

“Leave my brother alone or I will show you no mercy,” you spat.

“No mercy?” Sukuna laughed. “And what could you possibly do to me? You’re just a tiny and meek girl.”

You pulled out the dagger that was attached to the band on your thigh and pointed it at Sukuna’s upper abdomen. He quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you to his hard and toned chest.

“Stab me, girl. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he moved his face close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes shamelessly examined your face, slowly trailing down to your exposed flesh. You wore a flowy purple off-shoulder dress that had a large slit that showed your legs. With him towering over you, he could see the top of your breasts your dress failed to cover.

You spat at him, causing him to move back. He scowled and tightly held your face with his large hand. His sharp nails dug onto your supple skin, leaving red streaks all over your cheeks.

“Do the women here have no knowledge of manners? Know your place. I own this nation now. I own you.” He let go of your face and snatched Yuji.

“No! Get away, monster!” Yuji fought back and tried to squeeze his way out of Sukuna’s arms.

“Yuji!” You screamed and stabbed Sukuna on the chest, carving out a big line that went all the way to his stomach.

Sukuna winced and threw Yuji onto the ground. You tried to run to your brother, but Sukuna grabbed you and held you in place.

“Please! Let him go! Just take me instead, you bastard!”

“Is that so?” Sukuna smirked, his hand effortlessly lifting Yuji from the ground and tossing him to you. You catched Yuji and hugged him tight, your left hand on the small of his back and right hand gently caressing his hair. “I shall take you as my wife,” the fierce man said.

Sukuna sat comfortably on his throne, his chin resting on the palm of his hands while he blankly stared at the lavish banquet your people had prepared. There were girls in revealing dresses that danced right in front of him, but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on you, who sat beside him in a beautiful white dress that was elegantly draped on your dainty figure. Your neck and wrists were covered in jewels of all sorts that Sukuna had gifted you prior to your unification.

“Smile a little, my dove. It’s our wedding. You’re more than lucky to have me as your ally. After all, I’m the strongest out there.”

Your eyes refused to meet his piercing gaze. “Ally? I had no choice. You forcefully took me.”

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head towards him. “You gave yourself to me, remember?”

“That’s because I had to protect my brother.”

“And you looked beautiful doing that. You would make a great mother,” he smiled with amusement.

: ̗̀➛ part 2

#rev.writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

1K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Text

Lead Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

You're on your period and your best friend Harry is determined to help you feel better.

Your only condition?

He's not allowed to look.

Word Count: 5.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Absolutely not.”

“Bee…come on—”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

“And why not?”

“Because…it’s…just, no.”

“Leading experts say that sex can help with cramps.”

“…okay? And?”

“And…I think you should let me fuck your cramps away.”

Your expression falls, eyes narrowing into condescending slits. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he says calmly, nodding once to accentuate his point. “People do it all the time.”

“But not us.”

“Again, why not?”

“Because it’s…messy. It’s gross.”

“You have a blood kink; I don’t understand why this is different.”

“Oh, my god. This is so vastly different.”

“Well…not for me. I think it’s kind of hot.”

Instinctually, your nose scrunches as you lean back. “Ew, seriously?”

“Ew? What do you mean ew?” He nearly scoffs as he shoots you a confused but amused smile. “Bee…it’s you. It’s…you know, the circle of life or whatever. And it’s still the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You allow yourself a moment to consider it before once again shaking your head. “No. Nope. That’s…you don’t need to see me like that. It’s…not pretty.”

The skin between his brows crinkles as he studies you, the left side of his mouth quirking up. “That’s silly.”

And maybe it is, but you can’t help the warming of your face. “Har, I’m serious. Periods are messy, and not at all sexy. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”

He takes a step forward and gingerly brushes his thumb across your cheekbone until he can cradle your jaw in his palm. “You know what is sexy?”

“Hm?”

“Making you feel good,” he murmurs as you just about melt. “I mean it. I trust you, Bee, always. But I need you to trust me when I tell you that this doesn’t change anything. Obviously, we won’t do it if you aren’t comfortable. But I think we’d both benefit.”

You contemplate his premise a second time.

“Besides…” he continues, smiling a bit wider, “…neither one of us has ever done it before, yeah? So, we’d get to try this for the first time—together. You’d teach me, and I’d teach you.”

And you adore the sound of that. Adore the idea of getting to learn something with him. Be his first the way he is yours.

You hover your palms over his chest and sigh. “Okay, yeah. I know. But…what if you don’t like it? What if you think it’s weird?”

He frowns. “I won’t, but even if I do, we can always stop.”

“What if it’s messy? Which it will be.”

“S’what showers are for.”

“Okay, but what if it’s too—”

He presses his free hand to your other cheek. “Bee?”

You slow to a stop. “Yeah?”

“What if it’s good?” he whispers, bringing you closer until you can feel the question ghost across your lips. “What if it’s so fucking good? What if it’s exactly what you needed? What if it’s everything?”

You swallow a huff and a whimper. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” The tip of his nose nuzzles against yours, taunting you with the thought of a kiss. “Don’t make you feel good? Don’t make it worth it? Don’t make really good points?”

You can’t help but pout playfully.

“I promise, Bee,” he continues, meeting your eye. “I only want to make you feel better. Make you feel everything. Be so gentle with you, I swear.”

You begin to tug on his shirt, desperately needing him closer. “I know, Har. I know, I just…I’m nervous.”

“I know,” he echoes, humming as he strokes his fingers across your skin. “But you never have to be nervous with me. It’s just sex, and it’s just us. I promise. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Says the man that started this whole arrangement because of sex,” you retort, and he grins.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I already knew I liked you. The sex didn��t change that, it just confirmed it.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m serious. Need me to prove it to you?”

You exhale a gentle laugh as you take hold of his wrists and nuzzle into his touch. “No. I just…I don’t know. If I agree…I’ll have conditions.”

“Of course. And what are they?”

You think. “Uh…shit, I don’t know. We give it maybe a ten-minute trial run, and if we hate it, we stop.”

You can tell he’s fighting a rather smug smile as he nods once. “Okay. Deal.”

“And we have to put down a lot of towels. Like…cover the whole bed. Just in case.”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“We do it missionary. I think that’ll maybe be a bit…cleaner. Maybe.”

He smirks. “All right. Is that all?”

“You can’t look.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t look?”

“Nope.”

“Bee…how am I supposed to fuck you if I can’t see what I’m doing?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“You’ll tell me?”

“Yeah. You know, tell you how to move and everything.”

He laughs again. “I think that’s overcomplicating things a bit.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be easy. It’s the same as me tying your hands.”

“That is not the same, and you know it.”

“Well…it’s my biggest condition. Either you don’t look, or we don’t do it.”

This time, he huffs. “This is silly.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“But I still want to do it.”

“…seriously?”

“Seriously. I think you underestimate what I’d do for you.”

You pull your lip between your teeth and bite. “Har…we don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says again. “I mean it. Yeah, I’d like to be able to see it. But…for a first time, if this is what you need to feel comfortable…then we’ll do it this way. Might even be fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his hands drop to your hips while his mouth moves to your neck. “Having you tell me what to touch…how to touch it.”

You feel your breath hitch as his tongue takes a taste of the skin on your throat.

“You wanna be my eyes, Bee?” he whispers, in that low, dangerous way that makes your stomach drop to your toes. “Wanna tell me how pretty you look taking my cock? Tell me how wet you are, how you drip for me? How swollen your little clit is? How hard your nipples are—”

“Harry,” you breathe, head dropping back as his teeth graze the vein below your jaw. “Shit, stop—”

“Stop what?” You feel the tips of his fingers brush beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing across your stomach until you squirm. “Stop touching you? Or stop agreeing with you?”

Your hands disappear into his curls, and you tug as though your life depends on it. “Stop…being so good.”

You feel him grin into your shoulder as he guides you toward the bed. “No.”

The backs of your legs hit the mattress and you both tumble down while Harry works to keep his lips on your body.

His large hand hikes your leg over his hip until he can settle comfortably above you, groaning into your chest as you gasp for air.

“Please…” you hear yourself pant, nails scratching down his shoulder blades, desperate to bring him closer.

“I know,” he says, already tugging on your shirt. “I know. Gonna make it better, Bee. Promise.”

He grinds down, allowing for you to feel how hard he is, how bad he really wants this—needs this.

And despite the multiple layers between you, it’s exhilarating and so sweet. Making you whimper his name as you attempt to thrust up against his cock for a second time.

He pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your lavender colored bra to his hungry gaze, and smiles when he sees it.

“I like this one,” he tells you, and you chuckle as your head drops back onto the bed.

“I know. That’s why I wore it.”

“Good,” he whispers, returning his trail of wet kisses down your throat. “Good.”

And it is so good. So easy and effortless that you’re almost swept away by the current that is him. Drowning in his ability and his intentions as he lures you into the deepest depths of desire.

“Wait,” you whine the second his palms smooth up your thighs. “Wait…we need…I gotta get the towels.”

He groans as though his entire world has just collapsed, face burying into your neck as if to trap you. “Bee—”

“You promised,” you remind him, attempting to wiggle free. “Okay, I just need to get everything set up and then we can go.”

But he keeps his body pressed to yours, caging you to the bed as he pulls your earlobe between his teeth. “Don’t wanna stop. Just wanna make you feel good—”

“I know,” you murmur, grabbing a handful of his hip so you can force him onto his back. “And you will. Just one second. Go ahead and strip.”

He makes another depraved noise but does allow you to climb from the bed and rush to the bathroom.

After grabbing a plethora of towels, you return to find him sprawled naked across the blankets, sporting nothing more than a smug smile.

And you laugh before motioning for him to stand while you lay the cloth down. Although he pouts through every second of it. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and cock incredibly hard.

But once you’ve finally finished, he sighs with relief, and strides toward you.

“Hold on,” you call, hand outstretching to stop his advance. “I gotta grab the blindfold.”

“Bee,” he nearly scoffs. “You weren’t serious about that.”

“Deadly,” you retort as you move for the nightstand to find the silk tie. “Unless you’d rather we just don’t do it at all.”

He takes a deep breath, almost as if to settle his nerves before smiling softly. “Of course I want to. And of course we’ll do it this way if that's what you need. I just…you can’t blame me for grieving the loss.”

Entertained with his efforts, you chuckle to yourself and retrieve the scarf before gesturing for him to sit.

He’s quick to obey, perching on the edge of the mattress as he watches you approach. His expression bleeds willing anticipation, hands gathering in his lap, and eyes widening.

You come to a stop in front of his legs, unable to resist smiling down at your sunshine boy as you gently brush your fingers through the dark hairs atop his head.

His lashes flutter, head rolling back to follow your touch while humming contently beneath a soft breath.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a desperate fist clenching around your heart.

He blinks himself back to clarity. “For what?”

“For just…being you.”

A rush of adoration overwhelms his expression, his meadow-green eyes softening as he reaches down to take hold of your wrist.

“Of course,” he says before guiding the blindfold in your hand toward his head. “Go. I trust you.”

I trust you.

Overwhelmed by a surge of confidence, you dip down, and kiss him. Teeth and tongues clash as you each greedily steal a taste, breathing him in as though your life depends on it.

And once he’s settled in your lungs, you lean back, and slip the tie over his eyes.

His muscles tense the moment his vision is taken from him, but the delicate sweep of your fingertips across his skin as you secure the knot seems to undo the stress.

“You okay?” you ask, making sure to keep your voice quiet so as to not startle him.

He nods, chest rising and falling as he inhales deeply. “Mhm. Miss you already, though.”

You grin. “Okay, I’m gonna get ready. Don’t move, all right?”

Another nod, this one silent.

With a strange feeling in your stomach (that you can’t blame on cramps), you step back and begin to slip your shorts off.

You’re thankful that today’s flow isn’t too heavy. Although you’d still rather die than let him see.

But he’s patient, smiling to himself as he hears you rustle around, your aggravated huffs making him chuckle.

Finally, you’ve rid yourself of all clothing, leaving your thighs to squeeze together in an attempt to keep everything…intact.

You’d removed the tampon while you were in the bathroom, and now that you’re ready, and this is actually happening…your pulse begins to race.

“Bee?” Harry murmurs, almost as if sensing the shift. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Your voice is light. Airy. A tad strained as you timidly approach him. “I’m…yeah. Just…trying to wrap my head around it.”

He hums, straightening up slightly as if to comfort you. “I know, it’s okay. I’m here. M’right here. Don’t have to be nervous. It’s just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, attempting to emblazon such a promise across your heart. “Always.”

“Always.”

You make yourself known to him, ghosting your fingers up the length of his arm and along the slope of his shoulder. “Okay…I’m ready. Are you?”

“Mhm. Just tell me what to do.”

But you don’t tell him.

You lead him.

You take his hand in yours and bring him to his feet. His grip is strong, grasping onto your palm so tight, you won’t be surprised to feel the residual aches tomorrow.

You walk to the foot of the bed and begin guiding your bodies down, leading him in a crawl across the towels. You go slow, making sure that he knows to brace himself with his other hand and with his knees as he follows you.

You can see the quiver in his stomach when he hovers himself above where you lay, the corners of his mouth dancing up in a delicate but shy smile.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, lifting to nose under his jaw and leave a reassuring kiss. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” His head drops, almost as if chasing after your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, one hand trailing down the rigid dips along his chest. “Your heart’s beating really fast, Har.”

“I know,” he says. “S’cause I’m excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Another nod. “Everything is you.”

Your stomach wrenches in the best possible way. “Really?”

“Really. Every one of my senses is just…you.”

You press your lips over his racing pulse. “Hope that’s a good thing.”

He grins. “It is. It’s everything.”

You kiss him. With each possible ounce of love you have to offer, and he groans against your tongue as he settles into the familiar mold of your mouth.

Muscle memory seems to serve him well as he makes his home between your thighs, palm already traveling down the curve of your hip.

And you know what he wants. What he aims to do, and as if out of reflex, you snatch onto his wrist and bring him to a stop.

“Wait,” you whisper, nose pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, I…I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, releasing his hold to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Lead me, Bee. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimper, unable to deny the less-than-dull ache forming deep within your belly. Even nerves can’t tamp down such desire. “You, I just…I’m not sure—”

“We can go slow,” he tells you. “Until you’re ready.”

His assurance does absolutely nothing to ease the need in your heart and you whine to yourself before scratching your nails down his skin. “Don’t wanna go slow, I just…I just have to do it.”

But his head shakes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bee. We can stop right now. Do you need to call watermelon?”

“No.” You take hold of his face and squeeze. “No. No, I don’t want to stop. I wanna keep going. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you, Har.”

He lowers until he can press his forehead to yours and calm your jitters. “Okay. It’s okay. We can keep going. But only at your pace, all right?”

You wish you could see him. See his eyes. See the self-assuredness you know is there. The same self-assuredness that always manages to bring you back down after you’ve worked yourself up.

“Okay,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.

He grips your hand. “Be my eyes. Only show me what you want me to see.”

It comes to you then. Hits you like a ton of bricks. Heavy and hard, the way it always does.

You love him. Love him more than anything in the world. As more than your partner…but as your best friend.

Encouraged by a new rush of adrenaline, you take your interlocked fingers and bring them to your chest, allowing him to feel the way your nipples have hardened.

He exhales a shaky breath upon contact, taking control the moment you let go to knead your tit in his large palm before dipping down to lick along it.

You gasp and arch up into his mouth, feeling more than settled now as he wraps his lips around you.

He takes a moment to tug it with his teeth, gentle but firm enough to feed your pain kink. And you nearly sigh with contentment as he swirls his tongue around the pebbled skin, clearly indulging in you.

“My pretty girl,” he groans, hand running up the side of your ribcage until it can take hold of your other breast. “Tell me how good you look in my mouth. Tell me how pretty you look between my fingers.”

“Shit—Har, please.”

“Feel good, darling?” His voice is a salacious purr, meant to entice you, meant to ruin you. “Want you to tell me. Tell me how pretty you look.”

Your fingers move for the hairs at the nape of his neck, brushing against the fabric around his head. “Feels so good—”

“Uh-uh,” he warns, lifting up and taking his mouth from you. Leaving your chest cold and untouched. “Tell me.”

You whimper again and attempt to scoot closer. “Pretty,” you repeat quietly. “Always look pretty in your hand. Always look better when you touch me.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench when you see the plump, pink fibers glisten beneath the light of your lamp.

“Good girl,” he whispers, allowing you to bring him close so you can kiss him, cursing when you nip at his mouth.

You take hold of his hand again and begin moving it down your body. Over the tender skin of your stomach and down toward your cunt.

He attempts to remain calm when he realizes where you’re leading him, but you can feel the pulsing in his wrist escalate the closer you get.

“Bee,” he murmurs as you brush the tips of his fingers along your inner thighs. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you answer through an anxious pant. “Can’t wait any longer.”

“Fuck,” he seethes against your cheek when his touch ghosts over your swollen clit. “Feel so fucking good, lovie. Wanna see you so bad—”

“Mm-mm,” you argue, grasping onto his curls. “Not this time.”

“Bee—”

“Touch me,” you quickly mewl, licking a strip along his jaw. “God, Harry, please. Please touch me. Need you…need—”

He pinches the sensitive nerves until you gasp and choke on the rest of your plea. But you don’t even mind because the rush of euphoria that shoots through your veins like heroin is everything. Almost more than you can handle, and you buck up into his hand.

“That easy, hm?” he teases before his fingers run down you, desperate to dive through the arousal and coat himself in it. “Knew you were all worked up. You’ve been needy for days, darling. Haven’t you? Just needing me to make it better?”

He’s right. You’re always needy for him but especially on your period. The one week you refuse to let him touch you.

You’re beginning to wonder why.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your ear until a shiver dances down your spine. “Gonna let me fuck the pain away? Make you feel good again?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and begin rolling your body in time with his ministrations. Hoping to grind against his fingers until you find that sweet relief.

He smirks. “Anxious?”

“Little bit,” you retort, scratching down his back. “Shit…please. Please, baby—”

“I know,” he coos, taking his fingers from your pussy to squeeze your thigh. “Gonna have to do it for me, okay? Take my cock and use it.”

You whimper as you reach for him, more than ready to feel him in your hand as you guide him closer to you.

You try not to think about what comes next. Try not to think about what it is you’re about to do, or what his cock might look like covered in your blood.

He twitches the moment your palm smooths along his shaft, face burying deep within your shoulder to brace himself. “Sorry…fuck, feel like it’s been forever.”

“I know,” you agree, nuzzling your cheek against his temple.

“Feels so much better now,” he whispers, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “Feels…different, too. When I can’t see.”

You know exactly what he means, and you clench from the idea of what he must be experiencing right now.

Your fingers weave through his hair, and you tug until you can bring his head back out. Then, after releasing his cock, you smooth your thumbs over the blindfold, and lift up to place a kiss over each eye.

“Har?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He grins so wide, you can see his two little bunny teeth. “I love you,” he repeats, nestling his face against your hand. “Now please let me fuck you.”

And who are you to argue?

You take hold of him once more while his hand smooths down your hip to help guide your legs further apart.

And after some shifting and shuffling, you pump him slowly, and line him up.

“Ready?” you whisper, a bit coarser than you had intended.

He nods, swollen lips parting in anticipation. “Yes. Always. Go, Bee. Let me feel you.”

The moment the head of his cock brushes through you, you both tense and stumble over some rather pornographic moans.

After all, it’s been quite a while since the last time (around two weeks…which for the two of you feels like a lifetime), and this merely proves why you should never wait so long again.

It’s full, and it’s good, and it’s comfortable. Much more comfortable than you anticipated, and you can’t help but glance down to watch as he disappears into you.

His hands fist the duvet beside your shoulders as sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth before suddenly driving in to the hilt, forcing your gasp. “Shit…sorry. Sorry, m’so fucking sorry. Couldn’t…couldn’t wait—”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, wiggling a bit to get adjusted. “It’s okay. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, this makes the muscles in his stomach quiver as he rolls back. “God, lovie. So fucking tight today. Fucking hell…don’t know if I’m gonna last long.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat, fingers painting patterns down his spine. “Just go. Go, fuck me. Do whatever you want. Don’t care, just want you—”

He snaps forward once more, bottoming out as you cry out his name and arch from the bed.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Talk to me, Bee. Be my eyes, come on. Tell me how good you look taking my cock. Tell me how fucking sweet your pretty little pussy treats me.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent whine as you wrap your arms around his neck and hike your leg around his hip. “So good, Har. Look so good inside me—”

“Shit.” His teeth graze your shoulder as he thrusts in again, doing his best to be gentle the way he promised, but losing the battle quickly. “Yeah? Like watching the way I stretch you?”

“Harry—”

“Oh, darling, you’re so wet. Fucking soaking me, aren’t you?”

You feel as though you are, but truth be told, you don’t want to look down and find out.

However, your silence breeds suspicion, and Harry’s hand blindly searches for your jaw until he can give it a quick squeeze.

“Bee,” he warns, in a low growl that makes your pulse skip. “Don’t do that. Don’t go quiet, don’t overthink.”

You whine a bit as your writhe beneath him, attempting to pull your face from his fingers. “Can’t help it—”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, pulling harder until you have no other choice but to go lax in his touch. “You feel so fucking good. All right? You have no fucking idea how good you feel right now. M’losing my goddamn mind. Don’t ever wanna stop fucking you—”

You can’t help but clench down until he’s lost the rest of his sentence, his hand dropping to your throat.

“Fucking devil,” he mumbles, working to create a faster rhythm as the room fills with steady whines, whimpers, and anxious gasps. Until the sound of him slipping in and out of your tight hole is echoing between the walls. Until everything is just him.

Soon, you don’t care about your period. About the possibility of a rather bloody mess or the idea that Harry will see you differently.

Soon, the only thing that matters is release. Is finding that end as the pleasure builds and builds like a tower of Jenga blocks in your stomach. Until it’s so tall, so heavy, so potent…you have no other choice but to let go.

His arm loops under your back, right near your hips while he tugs you up, needing a better angle as he continues to ruin you. And your body is pliable in his hands, nothing but jelly, meant to be tossed around like a toy.

“Give it to me,” he grunts, but there’s a certain plea beneath the virile command. Like he’s begging you to come on his cock, and your eyes roll back. “Fucking give it to me, Bee. Right now. Right fucking now—”

And you were already halfway there but then he reaches down your body, fingertips brushing against your clit, and you’re gone.

Toes curling, back arching, mind numbing. Your entire reality whittles down to him. And his cock, and his hands, and his come. The way it fills you not long after, painting your insides like a mural before leaking between your bodies.

And it’s sticky, and the room is hot, and your bodies are covered in sweat.

But it’s perfect.

Eventually, he reaches back for the knot behind his head, needing to see you. But you’re quick to stop him, guiding his arm back down until you can bury him against your chest and whisper, “Not yet. Just stay. Like this. Please.”

You can tell he wants to fight you. He loves seeing his come drip from your pussy, loves pushing it back in, loves licking it up.

But today, that’s out of the question, and when he realizes this, he sighs and allows his face to nuzzle into your neck.

You know he’ll need to regain his vision soon, but you don’t mind existing in this moment just a little while longer. You’d exist in every moment with him if you could, but you’ll settle for right here, right now.

“Bee?” he whispers, the sound of his loving nickname cutting through the quiet air.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

You smile so hard, the muscles in your cheek begin to ache. Your arms snake a bit tighter around his large body, squeezing him against your heart. “You’re silly.”

He grins.

A few minutes later, you make him a deal. You’ll lead him to the bathroom so you can both take a shower, and once you’re sure the evidence has been washed away, you’ll let him look.

He argues that this is a step beyond ridiculous and you argue that you’ll never fuck him again if he opens his eyes before you’re ready.

He gets quiet after that.

You both stumble a bit as you lead the blind man from the bed to the shower. You do your best not to survey the damage, but you catch a glimpse in your attempt at cleaning everything up. It’s not as bad as you anticipated. Your period has always seemed to mellow out whenever you’re lying horizontally.

Honestly, you’re not really sure what logistics are involved with that premise, but today, you’re just grateful they are.

You keep your palm over his closed eyes as you both step under the stream of water. His eyelashes tickle your skin whenever he attempts to blink, and you giggle from the soft feel.

After a minute or two of letting the soap do its thing, you drop your arm, and return his sight.

Those sage green irises find you as he works to adjust to the world around him. He squints for the better part of a minute before he’s smiling and taking in your wary expression.

“What’s wrong?” he hums, stepping closer to sneak his wet hands around your hips. “See? It was fine.”

“I know.” Your voice is small, eyes trained on the tattoo painted across his chest. “I do feel kind of stupid for making us do all of that.”

“What?” He leans back, brow raised. “Bee…I know I was talking shit, but you know I didn’t mind.”

“I know, I just…people have period sex all the time. It’s not a big deal, you’re right—”

His head begins to shake zealously as he backs you up against the tile, forcing your attention on him. “No, no, no. Don’t do that. That’s what you needed to do, and I pushed you to do it in the first place. I told you, I will do whatever you want. Anything. Anytime.”

“I know, but—”

“No. Enough. I don’t wanna hear it.” He presses his forehead to yours for a second time this evening, and you feel your stomach clench. “Trust me. That was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever done. Not being able to see you almost killed me but everything else…god, I’ve never felt so overwhelmed by you.”

And for some reason, this vulnerable yet earnest confession creates a lump in your throat as you blink up at him.

“All I could hear, all I could touch, all I could taste…was just you,” he whispers, squeezing the skin on your waist to emphasize his point. “I would do that a hundred more times if that’s what you wanted.”

You whimper, blindsided by the sudden rush of emotions working their way to your waterline.

His strong hand moves for your cheek, cupping it sweetly as he presses a kiss beside your eye. “You can take my sight any day, Bee. As long as you promise to give it back. And let me see you again.”

You smile as a tear begins to slip down your skin, collecting in his palm before he wipes it away. “You know what you are?”

He presses his lips to your face one last time before leaning back. “What?”

Your eyes meet, and you grin.

“Silly.”

Yes I am perpetuating the idea that he could find it blindfolded 😗 BECAUSE HE COULD FIND IT BLINDFOLDED!!! Teach Me Harry could anyway and I will not be taking any questions or comments, thank you!!! (No I'm kidding but...he could)

Next Part:

~ Use Me*

Previous Part:

~ Watch Me*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags: (Since this is an extra, I have no idea if you guys want to be tagged in it, but if not, please let me know! And I will remove you promptly! But if you are okay with being on this list, then welcome back, I've missed you🥹💞)

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @straightontilmornin @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @tiaamberxx @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #angst #harry styles angst #harry and bee #harry styles teach me #teach me

1K notes · View notes

thewriterg · 1 year ago

Text

𝐜𝐡��𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.1

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; new recruits, questions, and a bag of tricks

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n; my toxic trait is starting a new series before finishing my other ones 😊 | chasin chaos masterlist

“Sergeant Mactavish, Werewolf.” The brunette held his hand out clawed fingers reaching about for the lieutenant who barely spared it a glance before looking back towards his sergeant and captain who smirked or started back at him smugly your presence lacking completely which was uncommon even if you weren’t meeting the eye he could feel your presence today it was gone but he temporarily stopped himself from dawning on it while words spewed from his lips

“Where’d you find this guy?” The gruff voice drizzled over the sassy reply made Gaz bight back a chuckle

“At the end of a rainbow” The harpy replied smartly his arms crossed over his chest feathers lying delicately over the surface of his forearms slightly lighter than the ones on his back where his wings sat it’s trail coming curtly to an end when it reached his the front of his wrist that damned fitted cap resting around his head in its common home ground talons tapping one of the many quills the sound almost sounding if he were thunking a table having his feathers harden on command just for the sake of it a quirk you could say

“Worth his weight in gold mind you” Price offered eyes not looking up from some type of notes he were reading over thick pear and moss mixed green colored horns sitting adorned on his well kept hair curling slightly forward and up Ghost could tell he was wearing an older shirt since there were two holes cut out instead of one for his stray wing that still sat strong spar bones matching the color of his horns and furless tail while the mainsail resembled a more dirty rag cream color

“They said it not me” Soap grinned mock waving off the compliment quirking the damned thick bushy brow of his the only one with a slit slicing right through the point of the arch while the hulking man sighed heavily dragging a hand over his covered face balaclava with a simple print of his actual hard mask a skull

“Fuckin’ hell… you follow orders?” The muffled voice was not a mere obstacle for the hybrid to hear the slight pointed ears on the side of his face doing their job well to listen

“I well trained if that’s what you’re asking. Sit, stay, paw, jump, roll over, I know ‘em all.” The brunette looked off mocking a ponderous expression counting off on his fingers the canines in his mouth slightly showing even though they were retracted

“Real bag of tricks, aren’t you?” The instinct in the sergeant perked up as you suddenly trailed beside ghost surprised that he hadn’t been able to pick up your presence or at least your scent quicker like he had with Ghost especially since they were so… different not having a face to match with your cooled voice since it seemed you also favored a balaclava yours simply plain black yet he didn’t mind just gave him two sheets to play at once…

Raking eyes over your figure the man determined you were a looker for sure yet he didn’t miss how the other silently agreed

“My apologies miss, I dinae get your name” Soap stated a now gentle smile resting on his face that you seemingly ignored accent seeping through a little more and as more time went on the more he could smell the authority coming from you and Ghost it was a little less than Price yet more than Gaz and the other recruits around base

“Depends who you ask. What’s the role you’ve had in your pack?” You questioned eyes low that he could see through the gap in your mask where your sight shone through staring him down almost as if you could see right through his soul yet he kept his quirky grin Mohawk stopping just below the base of his neck a small piece of stray hair lying against his forehead thick fluffy tail perking up slightly swaying against the back of his thighs cargo pants dipping in the back just below his tail

“I’ve been in a few packs could be an alpha, beta, omega if you wanted me to… but I seen you have your roles sorted. I’ve got no problem bein’ ah pup miss” You roll your eyes at that while the brunette winks you swiftly trail away dragging Ghost away with you picking up Price on the way while both men let you drag them along their hulking figure’s towering over your back boots slightly thumping against the floor before your figures disappear within the halls he turns to the crow who’s fiddling with the screen of his phone

“You ever feel left out of somethin’?” Soap questions and Gaz suddenly stands a small smirk on his face as he rakes his eyes over the wolf before shaking his head

“There’s enough for everyone to get their fill, you’ll be next soon enough” Without an explanation the sergeant was already trailing away opposite of where you had gone leaving him alone

But never for too long

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It’s rude to stare sergeant” Ghost grunted gruffly after jamming his janky locker shut barely giving Soap enough time to look at his shadows slipping from under his glove some looking like it was traveling farther up almost resembling veins while the rest began to make a small cloud on his wrist until he shoved his sleeve over the sight unapologetic about the whole thing barely looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the wolf as he stood behind him

“Just tryin’ ta figure you out, Lt.” He grins tail becoming livelier as it perks up behind his back before it reluctantly lowers still up and lively

“I’m well traveled, seen a lot of things, met a lot of people. Never smelt anythin’ like you… or Flatline for that matter” A slightly clawed finger rests curled on his chin tail gently flapping up and down it had been a little over a week since he was recruited it didn’t take long for him to find out your name or call sign that might have well been your name since no one seemed to know it just by the brief description of eerie, bold eyes, and a mask to cover you face, he got the answer of either Ghost or Flatline

“Hell of a compliment soldier” The blonde resorts almost sarcastically finally looking over his broad shoulder to lock eyes with the brunette and he waves him off finally stepping closer to the skull mask wearing man deciding by his side was the best place to stand and if he noted the smoke trying to spill from his pockets where he had his hands shoved deeply he didn’t say anything about it

“Och, you know I dinnae mean it that way. Can’t blame me for bein’ interested, I never packed with a wraith hybrid before… or a phoenix thought they were bedtime stor-”

“Not hybrids” Ghost cuts off the scott before he can dig any deeper and he furrowed his eyebrows questioning if he had heard right if his ears were failing him or not with a small ‘what’ spilled from his lips

“We’re not hybrids.”

“No shit? What the hell is tha’ like?” Swiftly Simon was in front of him eyes bold yet precise slicing right through him while Johnny’s gaze slightly widened at the quick movement his boots not even so much a squeaking against the ground a bit of the air currents flowing against Soaps slight shorter form

“You ever shut up Mactavish?” He somewhat seethed and the wolf was back to sly grin in less than minute, the grin that showed his canines in the full well kept facial hair adorning his structure even more, the grin the wraith wanted to wipe of his fucking face to be exact.

“Only when people make me.” Soap implied looking up slightly to address his superior with a voice that would make other feverish or peely in his terms that damned drunken grin still on his lips while Ghost practically stared him down eyes slightly squinted thoughts brewing behind those sharp, precise eyes of his that the Scott couldn’t wait to hear of tail swaying behind him with a bit more speed than before but of course his Lt. was a tease and put all his weight on one foot to turn walking out of the locker room without so much a grunt but he liked the chase

And so did superiors

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It’s an in and out mission that I’m sure you could do on your own, however I don’t need higher ups on my ass about favoritism. You’ll grab a few normals and head Midwest in the states to Chicago. One out of three missiles resigns with one of the biggest weapons busts in America that’s supposedly on its way over to Russia package delivery for a friend of ours… Makarov.” The air in the room shifted at the name drop of a once friend fallen foe even though You and Prices shoulders were up at the mere mention of Russia itsself you had a love hate relationship with meeting room as you got passed a file over things you truly didn’t need to go over things that a rookie could even fill in the blanks for

“This will either be the easiest sail of your life or your standing on the line of death, you all know your first priority even though I know you don’t want to hear it. Push come to shove the normals go first.” The older short cut haired woman looked at You, Price, and Ghost especially Soap noticed it confused him at first the wraith and phoenix at least, two lieutenants in such a small base or at least a small base that wasn’t Air Force but it made sense to him shortly after when he peeked in on occasional training sessions thought out a week You and Ghost switched groups between normals and weaker hybrids both favoring one group more than the other deep down and then at the end of the week bring them together to spar

“Wheels up at 04:00 tomorrow I’m sure you’ll have your picks by then.” Laswell sighed looking around the table for any objections your sitting between Soap and Gaz while Price and Ghost are sitting on the opposite side of the rounded table one of your legs are crossed under your form while the other is propped up you have your arms wrapped around it and your covered chin is lying on your knee and without another word she grabbed her laptop and exited room something about a ball and chain to her desk

The wolf and harpy are first to get up from their seats and the winged hybrid doesn’t go before gently brushing his fingers against your arm migrating towards the exit even though he’s stopped shortly by a shit eating grin and swaying tail conversation quickly taking place between the two

“So, what do you think?” Price hums both him and Simon approaching your seat as you began to stand rolling your shoulders eyes low beneath your mask it was still early in the day only 13:27 you had a training group normals at 14:15 sharp anyone who was a minute late got to run laps around base even if they weren’t hybrids or the ‘superior’ race in the field you couldn’t determine if you were fighting a hybrid or a normal and if you babied them because they were weaker than a super they wouldn’t have a fighting chance against one.

“He asks a lot of questions” Ghost responds curtly while the older man takes no offense to it producing a chuckle from the back of his throat taking out a cigar from his breast pocket in his vest holding out the thick brown lump filled with nicotine out to the blonde who responded by taking out a silver lighter snapping the cover back quickly as it produced a flame its front covered by an ace card with its main attraction being a skull the drug lights aflame a small hissing sound coming from it when the salt and pepper haired hybrid took a drag

“Comes with the package. Wolves don’t like uncertainty in the pack dynamic.”

“He knew you and Gaz before he transferred, didn’t he?” You spoke up squinting your eyes at your captain eyelashes mere meters away from kissing your cheek standing the only way he could get a read on you and Simon he usually says ‘those eyes can tell you everything and nothing all at once, just gotta watch em.’

“Yes, but you’re both hell of a new variable” Price admits before smugly nudging your shoulders with his strong single wing while Ghost crossed his arms over his chest you roll your eyes stepping away from the pair

“Save your verdicts until you see him in action, he’s a vision in the field.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Hey… how yall doing 😅

I haven’t posted since October I missed you writers!

Ermm I’m a year older —Nov 8th— happy belated birthday to me

And that’s about it 😭

419 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 24 days ago

Text

Whumpuary 2025 3 & 15

Prompt 3: Chills

Prompt 15: “Don’t leave me.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of illness

“S’cold.”

The room was a bit drafty but beneath the comforter, it should not have been possible for the man to be chilly. That could only mean one thing. Pushing yourself from the chair by the fire—where you maintained a constant vigil since the archer had nearly collapsed—you crossed the room in swift steps, the movement near silent on your bare feet.

Daryl’s teeth were damn near chattering, his face flushed. Pulling back the covers, you found his shirt soaked through. His eyes remained closed but he groaned in protest, turning onto his side to curl in on himself. He flinched away when your palm brushed his forehead.

“You’re burning up.” You gasped, yanking away the duvet completely before covering him with a thin sheet.

“Y/N—”

“I know.” Your fingertips swept his unruly fringe away from his face, the strands dampened with perspiration. How could you have not noticed earlier? “I know you’re cold, but you have a fever and we have to get your temperature down.”

Your eyes filled with tears and sympathy when he let out a miserable groan followed by a harsh wet cough. If there was something useful, it would likely be across the hall in the bathroom. Goddamnit, if only he hadn’t balked when you had offered to find it earlier. You pulled the sheet up further, letting it fall just below his trembling shoulders, and turned to go in search of something—anything.

“Don’t.” His fingers felt like fire around your wrist, as if his blood had turned to lava and flowed just below the skin. A pair of blue orbs, barely open to slits and shining with fever, stared back at you. “Don’t—leave me.”

He allowed you to pry his grip free, not that it took much effort. Pressing your lips to his knuckles, you lowered his hand down to lie beside his face, where it curled into a fist and was pulled into his chest to join the other. “I’m only going across the hall.” Did he honestly think you’d leave his side for even a moment if you weren’t forced to do so? His eyes slid shut again. “Only across the hall.” You repeatedly softly.

The desperate rummaging proved to be fruitful and was worth the mess of scattered supplies. A few Tylenol capsules and a half a bottle of expired cough syrup with codeine. It would do until you could coax him to sleep. You’d have to leave him long enough to search out some antibiotics in the desolate little town. The thought alone was nauseating. Why did this have to happen while on a run? Why couldn’t he have admitted to being under the weather? That stubborn fool.

Daryl was right where you had left him, a trembling heap beneath the sheet. You said his name softly and sat just above his drawn up legs. “Wake up.” He made a raspy keening sound but otherwise didn’t stir. “I need you to wake up and take this medicine.”

“Save—save it.” He argued weakly, turning his face into the pillow and back again. “We can—take it back—with us.”

“Shut up.” You snapped with a mild heat simmering behind the words. “Take this.” The slow opening of his eyes was the only admittance of defeat you would get before his compliance.

Daryl pushed himself up to balance on his elbow, his head hanging. When it became clear he wouldn’t—couldn’t—raise it himself, you pressed your palm to his downward cheek and turned his face toward you. The pills were easy. You placed them just past his lips and then a bottle of water was tipped for him. The cough syrup, however, was an entirely different matter.

You had no way of measuring so maybe just a swig of it would be enough? The moment the liquid hit his tongue, Daryl was gagging. He managed—out of sheer stubbornness, of course—to get it down, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t pull a face with a quick ‘blergh!’ afterward. If he weren’t so ill, you might have laughed.

“Rest now.” You kept your hand beneath his cheek to help him lower to the pillow, simultaneously sitting the bottle of medication on the dusty bedside table.

Eyelids heavy, he glared at the container. “Don’t put—that there.” He wheezed. “Ain’t never—takin’ that again.” Then, you did laugh.

“You’ll take it and like it, mister.” You teased, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go to sleep.” There was a moment when you thought he might argue, but the sickness won and he was pulled under rather quickly.

You sat with him for a while, feeling his forehead, listening to every breath. Only when he was breathing evenly and it was clear that he wasn’t waking anytime soon did you stand and grab your backpack. He couldn’t make the two day trip back home in his current state. He needed antibiotics.

Pausing in the doorway, you turned and watched him a moment longer, your eyes narrowing with determination. You would make it back to him and you would have what he needed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

The door closed with a muted click.

#whumpuary2025 #whumpuaryno3 #chills #whumpuaryno15 #“don’t leave me”#descriptions of illness #daryl dixon #murda writes #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead

103 notes · View notes

kaisers-house-of-desires · 1 year ago

Note

For the Malleus x Vampire Y/N, I mostly thought it would be fun if the reader was freshly turned, perhaps by Malleus or Lilia, and as a result wished to test the limits of their sexual relationship with their boyfriend/husband

- J

Hmm...I think this is doable~! A bit of a lengthier one but I do hope you enjoy~

Title: Love Bites

Characters: Malleus x Vampire!m!Reader | Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Vampirism, clothing sex

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Thirsty...you were thirsty.

Your throat felt severely dry and raw, like you were swallowing nothing but cotton and razor blades. Eyes, once your usual color, were now a bright bloody red, slitted pupils blowing out. Looking up, you saw the one that did this to you.

The frightened Lilia sat just some feet from you, his lips and chin stained with your blood. He looked just as frightened as you, just as confused. Neither of you were sure of what was going on. All you could remember was you offered Lilia your wrist for a quick drink, as he hadn't had anything authentic in awhile, but after that, your mind went blank.

"L...Li..." Speaking was a task all on its own, your voice barely coming out in a squeak. You felt like if you couldn't get something to drink soon, your very body would just give out. You reached over to him, using your body to plead for help.

"D-Don't move!" Lilia frantically stood up, panting lightly as if he wasn't breathing that whole time. "I-I...I know what to do, h-hold on!" You had never seen him so scared or run off so clumsily.

You kept your breathing slow, trying desperately not to swallow again. Though it felt like breathing was making it dryer and rougher. Your vision blurred and darkened at the edges as you waited, the sound in your ears slowly becoming nothing but your own heartbeat, which soon faded as it ceased to beat. That only spiked your worries more.

My heart's not beating...my heart's not beating, my heart's not beating--

"...(Y/n)...?" The new voice jarred you out of your thoughts, and as you looked up, your vision no longer held that dark border and tried to focus itself. The one that stood before you was none other than your partner Malleus, who looked even more confused than you did. "Wh-What...?"

"M...Mal..."

"H-Here!"

Lilia's voice now grabbed your attention, tearing you away from Malleus as he came running back, sliding down beside you as he held a glass thick red juice.

"I-It's some of my tomato juice. I-It may not be the real thing but...d-drink this."

You didn't need to be told twice as you practically ripped the cup from Lilia's hands, gulping down the liquid. You didn't care what it was, in all honesty. All you cared about was getting something wet down your throat.

Whatever conversation Malleus and Lilia were having didn't register to you as you glugged down the drink. Luckily, it was enough to satiate a bit of your thirst, though you wouldn't get to feel the satisfaction of it as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

---

It was like you blinked.

Your eyes opened to a new room, one of grey bricks and green fire candles. A scent made you bolt up, and you sniffed the air, as if trying to find what that...delicious scent was.

"Ah, (y/n), you're awake!"

Your head snapped over to Malleus, who was staying beside the bed. He looked relieved to see you, but you...you didn't see him, not in the way a typical person would.

Your colorful vision turned a desaturated color as red, smokey whisps slowly spiraled from Malleus. Him. You were smelling him. That wonderful scent was coming from your boyfriend.

Unable to think your hand shot out at him, only for him to grasp your wrist and pin it to the pillow. You whipped your other hand out, him catching that as well and pinning it. You uncontrollably thrashed your legs, attempting to break free from his hold, but once he swung his own leg and straddled your hips, you were trapped. There was no way of escaping the strength of Malleus.

"(Y/N), you need to listen," he stated firmly, his voice calm but demanding, "but to listen, you need to calm down. Please."

His words slowly registered with you, and you did your best to relax despite your bared fangs.

"Lilia seemed to have transformed you...and we're unsure how it happened. However, along with supplies of tomato juice, I have decided to stay with you while you finish the transformation and offer you my own blood."

"It's...not done...?" You did your best to speak, but thankfully your thirst was more quenched due to the juice Lilia gave you before. It did still hurt to speak a bit, however.

"Apparently not. I believe he said your organs are still changing, and your mind is losing its humanity and temporarily reverting to a more primal state. You are dangerous while you're like this, hence one reason why I offered to watch you."

You understood what he was saying, you really did, but Great Seven, was his scent was so intoxicating.

"C-Can I...just one...just a bite..." You were practically drooling with the desire to taste him, the desire to sink your teeth into his pale skin and stain the area red.

"One bite," he answered with no hesitation, "but if I say that's enough, you stop."

You nodded eagerly, just excited that he allowed you this.

He released your wrists, trusting you not to act out, to which you laid there, patiently waiting, staring. Malleus removed the decorative piece from his neck, exposing the pale skin. You shot up, but he kept you back with one hand. There were no words from him, just a glare that he gave you that actually sent chills down your back. It was like your urges were nearly halted just by his body language alone. He appeared large, dominant, and--if there was one thought that managed to sneak through your clouded mind--attractive.

"You will be patient, understand?"

Great Seven...

You nodded, now resting yourself back on your forearms as he continued to fix up the area, removing his coat to work around shirt collar and moving it further to the side so the spot of his neck. Your fingernails, turned tallons, clawed at the bedding below you, your body aching to strike. Malleus moved his hair to the side, and, after gazing at you, he nodded, allowing permission to drink.

You didn't think. You rose up wiggling yourself from between his legs and grasping him, nails digging into his clothes as you sunk your fangs in. Malleus let out a pained gasp, his own body now shuddering. You both held tightly onto each other: you to keep Malleus close, and Malleus due to the pain he felt.

Though one thing was for certain, you both felt a sense of bliss.

Malleus wasn't sure why, but to have you on him like this, well...he would dare say this felt exhilarating. You would say his blood was divine now that you've gotten a taste of him.

The two of you fell back into the bed, you on top of Malleus with one of your legs precariously placed between the prince's legs. Scrunching up to feel even closer to him caused your leg to press up against his groin, earning you a soft moan and, strangely, a change in the taste of his blood.

Though you wouldn't get to pinpoint it as Malleus practically ripped you off of him, gazing up at you with blown eyes. You looked down at him with equally blown eyes, both of you panting softly from the event. One thing was for certain...

You both needed each other now.

You two fell into a heated kiss despite the blood on your lips. Malleus didn't seem to care as long as he had you on him. You tore at his belt as he grasped at yours, unhooking it and practically tearing the zipper off. He pushed both that and your boxers down, to which you stopped your actions to fully remove your bottoms. You were quick to return to your task, digging around to spring Malleus's cock from its fabric prison.

You didn't want to wait any longer, and frankly, neither did Malleus.

The two of you got in position, you straddling Malleus as he positioned his cock. You lowered the same time he started to move up, and insertion was made. Malleus was quick to begin thrusting while you lightly bounced your hips against him, arching your back as he hit all your deepest spots.

"M-Malleus~!"

Once he hit that special spot, you hunched back over with a gasp, planting a heated kiss on his lips before diving back in on the bite you had left. Luckily for you, Malleus didn't seem too fazed by this.

You finally got to taste that change. He tasted sweet, almost flower-like, though there was some bitterness to it, a fermented fruity bitterness. It was intoxicating, like a wine.

"(Y-Y/N)...~" Malleus breathed, tugging on your hair as his thrusts never ceased. "Th-That's enough."

The tugging of your hair sent shivers down your body, your head following his motion as you moaned by his ear, filling him with a rush of energy. He flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrists as he let all of his desires out. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with both of your moans. A heat curled in your stomach, your legs trembling as you neared your climax.

"M-Malleus~! G-Gonna...I-I'm gonna--~!"

One final buried thrust was all you needed as he stuffed his cock deep in you, releasing his hot seed as you shot out hot streams between the two of you, dirtying your shirts. Your legs trembled visibly, jerking on occassion as you panted heavily.

Malleus carefully moved some hair from your face, his own body trembling as he let out his own, spent panting. His lips moved, but you couldn't make out any sound. You had expanded too much energy since the transformation, and doing so had caused you to pass out once more. Malleus watched as your eyes closed, chuckling softly as he cleared the blood from your lips with a thumb.

"Don't worry. I've got you, love."

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #x male smut #twisted wonderland #malleus x y/n #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus twst #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus

427 notes · View notes

ranposbabe · 4 months ago

Text

Infidel | Johan Liebert x Reader

Chapter 24

Chaos and Havoc was all that surrounded him. He was calm and steady. Natural.

It was as if he had done this a hundred times. He looked so afar as he stared on as if he was anticipating the despair that was about to unfold. His aura oozed red. Not from the flames but from the despair within.

A sudden cold breeze erupted yet it did nothing to disturb his stand.

Strands of blond were evidently seen against the flames that flickered past his delicate skin. His calmness looked out of place yet his eyes showed the undeniable truth.

He belonged amongst the chaos.

It was as if someone took their fingers and was forcing your eyes to be peeled wide open. The urgent scene of bright lights flashing before you was overwhelming.

Your eyes raced around your stuffy bedroom. All but you remained completely still. It was only when you sat up, you truly fathomed what had occurred. A dream. A literal dream occurred while you were asleep. You never dreamed before.

What was the purpose of them anyways besides being a trick ?

As if you were a puppet, the strings that controlled your legs forced you to move.

The strings tightening around your brain came to a conclusion. You were going somewhere you never thought you would ever see again.

It was dreadful. Could no one else look upon the eerie sight that seemed to not exist amongst others.

You were hallucinating. Most definitely.

The “church” looked like it was rotting from the inside out. You walked in and its wooden like figure was dark and looked burned.

As you strolled by you notice the rows of chairs covered in dust. All the candles at the alter, so close together it would only take a moment for a catastrophe to occur.

“Why do you keep coming back here ?” That same girl or whatever she was spoke out. She was kneeling like before and her voice was too soft yet you could hear and understand every word. She was like a blazing candle in the dark. Her silk white gown glowed so bright.

“I’ve only been here once ?” You casually replied, kneeling along her side. But unlike her, your hands didn’t link in prayer. You don’t pray.

“You’re practically slitting your own wrists at this point. Causing yourself this hassle.” Her eyes were closed as if she was to be punished for opening them.

“He put his fingers in my brain.” She spoke of horrofic details as if they didn’t happen. Perhaps they didn’t especially since her voice and face was calm compared to her words. “Scooped parts of them up and swapped them around like he was messing with sand. Making a sandcastle he was.”

“He’ll know if he’s truly taken your brain apart.

“If you’re clever you’ll play along. If not.”

There’s a warning in her look as she momentarily sent you a gaze. It only then you notice a stitching on her temple. Little but noticeable, a cut so deep it probably did touch her brain. She has that dead look in her empty eyes.

“He’ll bash your brains in till you’re nothing.”

Then abruptly she screams pure horror. Your hands cover your ears as the screeching starts to burn your hearing. Blood began to never end pouring down her face from the cut as it split open, leaving into her eye. Giving her the appearance of someone wounded.

Someone in danger.

Your neck began to ache and stiffen due to sweat. With no control whatsoever, you slowly stood up, taking small steps backs until you hit against a row of seats. You unwillingly sit down. You know there’s the soft sound of footsteps closing in behind you so suddenly.

You know it’s him.

“I have no evidence.” You spoke with such dispear “I have nothing.” Stating the fact makes it suddenly real. You can still see the flames even when you look up to the candles still so raw. “But I know it was you.” Your ears began to ring.

Buzz…buzz..buzz…….

“I never dream and even so I wouldn’t bet anything solely on that.” Your healing yet broken arm rests on your lap. Your other hand clenched tighter on the seat in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“So why now ?” You rather ask yourself. Not him who stands behind, luring over you like you’re his prey.

“You dream of me ?” He leans down, his lips too close to your ear. Your lips tightened at the abrupt audacity. His fingers brushes against your arm and rather smoothly he locks his fingers within your tensed fingers. Your nails scratching against the wooden seat.

You wish you turned your head the opposite direction way but there’s no denying it now when you lift your chin and your wide eyes meet his calming pair.

Perhaps it was already intimidating due to him standing behind you while you sat but as you hopelessly stared, you saw it.

He looked dangerous. He was going to feast on the prey. But you stood so quick like how a prey with a boost of adrenaline manages to escape but you have no adrenaline within.

“Are you aware of what your issue is, y/n ?”

He’s the same as always, collected with himself, he didn’t seem to be wandering.

He knew exactly where to find you.

“You think you’re a well composed person and yet I somehow manage to break down that wall with little to no effect ?”

He barely tilts his head but there is a slight tease as his eyes ever so slightly squint.

“Im a wrong, y/n ?” There’s not a twitch that gives away amusement on his lips.

He stands and with his presence confident and it so easily standing makes you feel so small. His hands in his pockets as he leans down his mouth so close once again to your ear as he whispers. “I hope your answer doesn’t disappoint me.”

“Johan.” You don’t even know what to say as his hand now reaches out to touch your shoulder as if to finally get rid of the so called wall.

“Give in, my infidel.”

His definition of you giving in was the single glance at his soft lips. That was his confirmation, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours. He had every right to.

You gasp but not in pleasure but pure shock in realisation. You’ve never been caught off guard. Not until now. It starts to make you tremble. There’s a chill that runs up your back and as his lips continue to greet yours.

His hand that once rested on your shoulder moved to your back to soothe the literal shaking that you were having but you had no sense of paying attention to that.

Instead the unfamiliar warmth pulls you in and as you kiss Johan back, it becomes more intoxicating. You’re surrendering and so you’ve been set ablaze. Particularly your lips but you’re sure that’s due to the sensation of Johan’s lips against yours.

There’s only a brief moment you pull back to look up to see what you were feeling was real. He stared down at you maybe searching for the same confirmation.

When your thoughts have now stopped from drowning you realise too that you are in fact sinning at some aspect. You are in the wrong.

You know this and when you attempt to step away, Johan makes sure that you’re certain you’ve made a mistake.

At the end of the day he is a man, a man that’s much more stronger than you. Your silly attempts at pushing him are simply dismissed.

Then his tongue is suddenly in your mouth.

It’s not overwhelming at all. You were somewhat expecting it. How wrong that was.

The most sinful part however wasn’t the realisation of what you’re doing but rather the sounds of it. The longer you both continue this never ending warmth, the more you remember where exactly you are and how loud you are compared to the emptiness around you.

It’s only when you part you feel the warmth on your cheeks and ears. The sudden unfamiliar shyness takes over when he offers a soft smile so all you can bare to do is turn to face the many alight candle. Burning so fast and quick like the beating of your heart.

You wish to be engulfed by the flames but a part of you senses that you already have.

If you wish to be added to the taglist please comment below to let me know!!!

TAGLIST: @nimuelis @meigalahadovna @sugaredpersimmon @thesimpupthesky @sarcastic-cookie @mellechan

#x reader #reader insert #anime and manga #yandere johan liebert x reader #johan liebert x y/n #johan x reader #johan liebert x reader #johan #yandere johan liebert #monster x y/n #monster x reader #naoki urusawa's monster #monster anime #monster manga #anna liebert #dr tenma

35 notes · View notes

lloydskywalkers · 3 months ago

Note

Hey there! So I know the post was made back in 2020 but do you have any more writing/context/info for the "rebel demon au"? Because I can only find one post about it (it was a snippet of writing with Lloyd and Morro) and holy crap it has been making my neurons fire. I need the context for it and also way more of that type of cousins dynamic for Lloyd and Morro PLEASE.

HNGH i am assuming this is the one you mean, but forgive me if i'm incorrect - i am so sorry because as of right now i have no plans to continue it (too many multi-chapts T-T) but!! that does mean i can dump the context/what i do have written on you below the cut (featuring the complete trainwreck that is how i plot things out)

Context:

aaand here is the snippet I originally posted with slightly more context:

The rebel laughed, a caustic, grating sound that almost reminded him of the siren screech’s he’d hear on the coast as a child, the kind that sent chills down his spine. Gritting his teeth, Kai shifted his grip on his sword. He could laugh all he wanted — it wasn’t going to stop Kai from wiping the dirt with his face when this was over.

“You think you’re all so noble,” the rebel spat, yellow-green eyes flashing from behind his mask. “Defending her royal highness. I should’ve expected as much from some brainless guard dog.”

Kai nearly flinched back at the venom in his voice, then set his expression in a glare. “I’d watch how you speak of the queen,” he grit out. “Those are some high and mighty words coming from a bunch of murderers.”

The rebel’s grip on his bow twitched, and for a brief second, Kai feared he would abandon all sense and just shoot him on the spot.

“We are not the murderers here,” the rebel hissed instead, his voice low with fury. “If you knew any better—“

A dark shadow sprang from the trees behind him, and the rebel had only a second’s warning before the hilt of Zane’s sword came bearing savagely into his head, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain. Kai wasted no time is rushing forward, kicking the rebel’s bow away before he could grab it. Zane came down beside him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them against his back in an iron hold as he thrashed.

“Thanks,” Kai said breathlessly. “That was a close one.”

Zane gave him a tight smile, his eyes flashing in the light of the fires still burning around them. “I’m simply glad I found you in time,” he said. He glanced down to the rebel seething on the ground, trapped firmly by Zane’s iron grip. “What should we do with him?”

Kai eyed the rebel shrewdly, making a face. “Probably tie ‘im up and bring him to the captain,” he said. “As much as I’d love to grind his face in the dirt, he could be valuable. Maybe.”

The rebel hissed at him. “You’d lose your hands before you tried such a thing—“

Zane shoved him down harshly, glaring at the back of his head. “You’re not in a position to make threats,” he said. He shifted his hold, glancing up at Kai. “Hand me your rope,” he said. “I’ll tie him up—“

“Don’t bother.”

All three heads turned in unison as the voice echoed across the clearing. Kai felt a flash of relief as Captain Killow strode toward them, the rest of their unit following. The sense of relief grew stronger as he spotted Jay and Cole in their ranks. They’d all come out alright, then.

The warrior had an entirely opposite reaction — he tensed in Zane’s hold, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“Better to kill him now,” Killow grinned.

Kai paused, staring at him. Zane blinked.

“Captain…?” he stared at him in confusion. “Wouldn’t it be better to take him prisoner? We know nothing about how many of them came here, and he could prove a valuable bartering piece.”

Kai nodded, Zane’s words making sense. Despite his irritation at the warrior for catching him off guard, killing him seemed like a waste.

Plus Kai…wasn’t exactly a fan of killing someone in cold blood like that. It wasn’t like the warrior had killed any of them, anyways. In fact, it looked as if their entire unit had survived relatively unscathed, which was odd.

“Don’t overstep yourself, Julien,” Killow snapped, and both Kai and Zane stiffened. “I said kill him, so kill him.”

Zane frowned, clearly at unease. “Captain, if I may—“

“What did I say, Julien,” Killow growled dangerously. Kai swallowed, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Zane.

“For the love of — I’ll do it myself, if you’re that useless,” Killow huffed, drawing his sword and striding toward them. The warrior burst unto a violent struggle, and Zane nearly lost his hold in surprise.

The sword glinted as Willow raised it high, face twisted in a savage grin. “Hold him still, if you can do even that—“

“Stop!”

Kai’s head jerked up as Killow’s did, the unfamiliar cry echoing across the clearing. The rest of their unit snapped to the defensive, bows and swords rising as they prepared to take out the unseen threat.

The warrior, however, went still, his eyes going wide. “No!” he suddenly yelled, seemingly uncaring of his own fate. “I told you to run, you idiot, I’m not worth it!”

Killow turned his head back to the warrior, lip curling in distaste. He raised his sword, preparing to swing it down across his neck, when the twang of a bow sounded across the clearing.

“I said stop!”

Kai brought his own sword up, staring at where the arrow had come from. Killow doubled over, hissing as he clutched at his wounded hand. Zane gave a sharp intake of breath, and Kai followed his gaze upwards.

Oh, he thought blankly. The threat had been above them the entire time.

Nearly obscured by the shadows, the figure jumped down from his spot in the tree above them, landing neatly just in front of them. Kai immediately recognized him as the shorter rebel, the one with the frightened red eyes.

The fear had left them now, and instead the eyes were smoldering, fixed into an obvious glare at Killow as he leveled his bow at his head. Kai shook himself, bringing his sword back up and preparing to charge.

“Don’t touch him,” the smaller rebel snapped. Kai blinked. Despite the fury in his voice, the warrior’s voice was impossibly young, barely sounding older than Nya.

“You’re outnumbered,” Zane spoke up, before he anyone else could react. “What do you hope to achieve here?”

The boy’s grip on his bow tightened, his gaze never leaving Killow, who was now staring between both masked rebels in fury.

“Don’t you dare,” the rebel beneath Zane snapped, but Kai could hear the terror in his voice. “Don’t—“

“A trade,” the shorter rebel spoke over him, his voice wavering briefly. “Me for him.”

Killow gave a barking laugh. “And what makes you think you’re worth anything?” he sneered. “You’d be dead in minutes if you fired that bow. You’re in no position to be bargaining here.”

The boy tensed, then lowered his bow, slowly. The other rebel gave a strangled curse, and Zane had to strain to keep him pinned.

“No!” he cried, struggling anew. “I’m not worth it, idiot!”

His hand trembling slightly, the boy raised a hand to his his mask, pulling the dark fabric down. Blond hair so pale it looked white in the darkness tumbled down, framing a face that was far younger than Kai could’ve guessed. But the resemblance in his jawline and the bright red eyes were unmistakeable. Kai heard low murmurs filter between the unit behind them.

“I’d say I’m worth something,” the boy said, tightly. “But you can check with your princess if you want.”

The scowl melted from Killow’s face, his teeth flashing as his mouth spread into a grin. “Garmadon’s son,” he laughed. “So this is what you’ve been reduced to.”

Kai sucked in a breath. Behind him, he heard Jay start muttering frantically.

Garmadon’s son. The offspring of the demon dragon that terrorized their kingdom, that nearly destroyed them all before Harumi had intervened. The spawn of the devil, and he was…

A fairly unimpressive kid.

The son of Garmadon’s eyes sparked, and he bared his teeth. “You know who I am.” A sliver of smoke escaped his lips, and Killow jerked back in alarm, the other soldiers following suit. Kai blinked, feeling at loss here. “You know what I can do.”

“Fire-breather,” Killow cursed. “Just like your old man, huh?”

#answered #one day i will free some of these wips #alas i cannot write manageable chapters to save my life #T-T

22 notes · View notes

0oolookitsme · 1 year ago

Text

It's Buzzcut Season, Anyways!

Eeeeekk!!!! Hi Hi everyone!! I hope you are all doing well, here comes the first post of the year! <3

So.. It is my birthday today, and I'm very excited to tell you that I'm introducing to you, another one of my pairings! This a little excerpt from the fic (wip) I'm writing about this chaotic pairing, and I really do hope this gets you as excited about their story, as I am! This was supposed to be up in December but for some reason, I didn't post it?? Anyways, other than that, you shall see more, further on in 2024 :)

Also, shoutout to @cupid-styles and @elioslover for picking my ice hockey!Harry to be the one to get a buzzcut, hahah! My indecisive self (who lowkey wanted you guys to pick him), could've never 💗

All the love always, A.

Verse - NHL Player!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - It's just an excerpt so it's short!

Warnings - None that I can find but if there are any, do tell me and I'll edit them into this!

Y/n is reluctantly trimming Harry's hair when her nose feels funny, and she sneezes. Its good though, that Harry asks for her opinion regarding a change that he would rather appreciate.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Y/n sat on her unmade bed, hair unbrushed and messy since she woke up from a 3-hour nap. Her fingers typed away on her laptop, her face showing zero signs of any stress regarding the assignment she's going to have to turn in un-edited.

Probably because of the breakdown she'd had before taking nap. She'd been so stressed that she had drawn blood from her lips and broken two of her nails -- which was rather disappointing to her considering she'd got them done not so long ago in the honour of the upcoming season of winter.

The temperature was still as hot as summer, but half of the world was snowed in, and she wanted the peace of mind that winter brought her; so, she deluded herself into thinking that it was indeed her favourite time of the year.

A silent burp made its way up her throat, as she drank the day-old diet coke she'd been drinking before her meltdown-that-leads-to-an-amazing-nap.

Just as she slurped on the last sip that wasn't anything but melted ice, she heard the door to the flat open and her eyes rose up just in time to catch the sight of a sweaty and out of breath Harry, through the open door of her room.

"Y/n?" He called for her, walking towards her room when she only hummed in response. He passed her an apologetic smile on reaching her doorframe, and she knew he was going to ask something of her that the both of them know she wouldn't be willing to do quite easily.

"I need your help," he grinned at her. "...And Immediately."

She looked at him suspiciously, before deciding to shift her focus back on her assignment, knowing that he would lure her in if she were to continue looking at him.

But Harry was at once kneeling beside the side of bed she was sitting on. With his hands joined, he contorted his face in a way that looked like he was about to cry. "I beg of you, please! If you don't help me right now, my life will be ruined forever!"

Y/n's eyes had fallen into untrusting slits by now as she minimized the document that she had been writing in. "What is it, Harry?" She asked him in a monotonous tone, shutting her laptop as if procrastinating the essay any longer would be a great help.

"Cut my hair."

Instantly her jaw dropped open. Shaking her head, she began reopening her laptop and Harry took a hold of her wrists. "Harry, there's no way!" She yelped as he began making her get off the bed.

"I'm not asking you to give me haircut like Zayn!" He exclaimed, as if that'd ease her. "Just trim it a bit," he shrugged, walking out into the small living-room with Y/n thrashing behind him. She even threw a few hands at him, but he had a feeling that she wasn't as opposed by the idea as she was pretending to.

He pulled out a chair in front of the mirror that, though they had been living in this flat for nearly two months, had yet to be pinned to the wall. "C'mon, you work at a salon -- surely you know how to trim a guy's hair," he teased her, knowing that questioning her abilities would get to her and she'd cut his hair better than any hairdresser ever could.

Looking at her reflection glaring at him through the mirror, he winked at her before bending down to unzip his bag. He pulled out an electric trimmer from inside it and handed it to her, pulling the towel from the coffee table that he had left there earlier in the morning.

Once done draping it over his shoulders, he handed her the trimmer and added a touch of his puppy-dog eyes even though he knew they simply don't work on her.

"Okay. If you end up bald, don't complain then," she grumbled before running her hand through his hair. "Is this sweat or did you wash your hair after practice?" Her face was already contorted in disgust, like she knew he surely couldn't have done the latter.

"Don't you worry, I washed it after practice," he assured her, looking at her as if she should appreciate him.

She turned on the trimmer and held his hair in sections by one of her hands. "Why didn't you go to a salon?" She asked him, trimming the hair on his sides with her mouth parted.

Harry shrugged and immediately retorted when Y/n shrieked, mumbling an apology. "The salon's too far. I don't have the time to get there; got a handful of assignments to turn in before midnight." He told her. "And I mean, saving some money never hurt anyone."

"You do realize that I've put doing my assignment on pause to do this silly shenanigan with you?" Her eyebrows rose up as she fired another question at him. She suppressed a smile when he passed a dimpled-lopsided grin to her. "God, I hate you," she said, and a smile slipped on her lips as she moved to the other side to trim the rest of his hair.

She had no reason to be doing a parttime job at a salon, it wasn't going to help her in the future in any way, but it did help her in the present with its money. The money she got by being apprenticed to a dance company went straight into the flat-bills and some other necessary purchases that she couldn't avoid.

But she wasn't complaining about it. Living among frat people was a nightmare for her. She did have fun with people but being a clean-freak and a morning person didn't match well with the frats. They did love her dearly, but when Harry came in asking if someone would be willing to be his flat mate, everyone had chanted for Y/n. And, when he asked Y/n at the rink, she had quite literally jumped at the opportunity and in the joy of the moment, hugged Harry with a tight grip that still had his heartbeat rise whenever he thought about it.

With her touching his hair, Harry's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he was afraid it was going to break a rib. His eyes never once left her reflection in the mirror, not with the way she was being so careful and serious. Her lips had parted without her knowing, and she wasn't even blinking often enough.

That was when Harry saw a hair-strand fall in her face, and her face scrunch up in a way it does when she's about to sneeze. He saw as she turned to sneeze in her elbow -- a habit that she still hadn't gotten rid of. He shifted his gaze down on his hands in his lap, to prevent her catching him staring at her.

When Y/n caught her breath after the sneeze, her eyes grew wide. Her hand began shaking as she brought the other hand to cover her mouth, looking at his head in horror. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or begin spewing apologies and decided on the latter one.

But as she opened her mouth, Harry looked at her. "Should I just buzz it off?" He questioned her and thought that she had paled at the thought of him going bald. "I mean, the match season is finally over. I don't have anything to do but study, do my parttime and of course practice hockey." He shrugged explaining his point of view, looking at her to help him decided.

"S-sure! I mean, you'd look good with any-any type of haircut." She was shaking and stuttering, but Harry was too lost in his train of thoughts to question her. "A-and its buzzcut season, anyways!"

That seemed to be helpful for Harry. He smiled at her, "Shave it off, then. I'm basically on vacation from tomorrow... and I guess I'd really appreciate a change like this!" He was back to grinning and Y/n's sweat was beginning to cool off.

She imagined sitting with Harry on a sofa on some ordinary-night with her feet in his lap like he were her closest friend and telling him about today -- a movie playing on the lowest volume possible in the background. She stopped herself before she could get lost thinking about his reaction and mess up even his buzzcut.

129 notes · View notes

honeybeefae · 1 year ago

Note

can i request a newly mated highlord!rhys x highlady!reader fic with them going to the illyrian camps bc they have business to take care of, they still don’t like rhysand bc of his fae side and while walking through the camps she hears some illyrians insult him. Since they’re newly-mated reader can’t stop herself from destroying them. PROTECTIVE READER😍😍😍

um yes 100% this is AWESOME.

Touched Nerves (Rhysand x Reader)

The sound of men grunting and rain pouring was the only greeting you got as you strolled through the camps with your mate, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Now that you were an official High Lady you saw it as your duty to go along to these meetings with Rhys even if he insisted you stayed home. He had been nervous the week leading up, knowing how brute Illyrian men were and how new the bond still was.

Rhysand had told you he was worried that he would end up slitting someone's throat if they even dared to look in your direction but no one could have predicted you'd be the one who was hot-tempered.

"There's the High Lord," A sarcastic male voice chortled as you passed them by, your mate more focused on his conversation with the generals than whatever anyone was saying. You, however, were all ears. "Walking with his newest lay. Did you hear he made her High Lady?

"It's cause Rhysand is too much of a bitch to rule himself." Another male snarked, missing your glare as you glanced at them. "I'm sure she rules over him in the court and bedroom. He always was one to hide behind his mother's skirts."

Your fists clenched in anger as you tried to control yourself. You were always protective of Rhysand's reputation, hating that people didn't know the real him, but with this mating bond, it seemed that that protectiveness had grown tenfold.

"His mother, his sister, and now his mate too. He ain't no real Illyrian." The first one sneered. "He's nothing but a trait-"

You had the Illyrian male in your grasp before he could finish his sentence, your nails digging into the skin of his neck as he desperately clawed at your hand.

"He is everything you wish you were. He's got more Illyrian fight and blood in him than you have in your toes." You emphasized as you dug your heel down into his foot, a sadistic side of you enjoying the way he whimpered and wriggled. "You'll be good to remember that next time you come face to face with someone who could easily wipe you off the face of the Earth, someone like me."

Your nails dug further into his neck and the animalistic side of you wanted to rip out his larynx for even daring to speak ill of your mate. The two men beside him watched on in horror and awe as you easily lifted the mail into the air.

"I suggest you find your dignity that is now in the dirt and apologize to your High Lord, to your leader." You said before throwing him backward, straightening your spine and brushing off your clothes. "Now."

A rush of cool night air blew next to you and you immediately relaxed when you looked to see Rhys smirking, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

"Well," Rhys waved a hand to the man, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."

"I'm-" The man began, red blood marred all over his neck as if he had just been mauled. "I'm sorry, High Lord." He said through gritted teeth, his stare colder than death as he turned and took off into the sky.

The other men followed but not before sending nasty looks your way, one of them mumbling something under their breath. You took a step forward as if to follow but stopped when you felt Rhys's hand wrap around your wrist.

"Shhh, darling. It's alright. Let them go." He murmured into your ear, pulling you close to wrap his arms around your midriff. "You protected my honor courageously. I would hate for you to stew in this."

"But they were rude to you, rude to me as if you had done nothing for them." You argued, turning to face him with a pouted lip. "I just wanted to protect your name. I don't like it when other people speak of you like they know you. Like they know what you've been through."

"I care what no one thinks but you." He assured, tilting your head up so that he could gaze adoringly into your eyes. "You are all I care about, darling. No one else."

You blushed and he smiled, kissing your forehead softly before turning to start back down the path. He held his hand in yours, keeping your body close, as he snickered and said, "Though it was nice to see you kick his ass."

#acotar #acotar reader #acotar imagine #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys x reader #rhys x reader acotar #rhysand x reader acotar #rhysand x reader #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #acotar fanfiction

296 notes · View notes

illyrian-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Stay with me

Azriel x reader

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by Hybern’s army, and Azriel gets injured during the mission to rescue you.

Thank you lillithathecat for requesting 24. Soulmates - one risks their life for the other + 26. Tending to injuries.

Day 4/5 for 500!! Enjoy! 💗

Warnings: Violence, injuries

Words: 1,963

--------

“Azriel!!” you screamed, thrashing against the arms of the soldiers that held you back.

He had come to save you – just as Hybern had expected. Like an angel of the night, he swooped at the army below, slitting throats with his sword and choking others with his shadows. You tried to scream for him, to warn him this was a trap, but it was already too late.

Azriel spotted you then, hovering in the air for just a moment before making for your direction. He didn't get far as a quiver of arrows shot through the air, piercing his wings.

You knew those arrows would be laced with Faebane, and your eyes widened in terror. Azriel roared as he flapped against the pain, blood now spilling from multiple wound sites. You screamed his name again, watching your angel fall from the sky.

Cassian appeared in front of you then, and Feyre close behind him as she winnowed into place. He looked past you, grunting as he swung his sword at the guards, not giving them a chance to fight back as they fell to the ground. You heard more yelling, and turned to see Feyre’s water wolves unleashed onto the rest of Hybern’s men.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you tried to spot Azriel amongst the fight, panic rising in your throat as you could no longer see the troughs of his wings. On instinct, you launched into a sprint, heading straight to where he had fallen – before a strong hand caught your wrist.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Cassian’s ran his eyes over you with concern, his chest heaving from the fight.

“Azriel!” was all you could shriek as you pulled against his hold.

“I know, it’s alright. Rhys has winnowed him back to the camp.”

You stopped pulling, your eyes darting between Cassian’s as you tried to process through your panic. “Take me to him.”

Cassian flicked his eyes down to your bloodied lip and bruised face – Hybern’s army had showed you little mercy as their bait. “You’re injured.” was all he said.

“I’m fine,” you growled. “Take me to Azriel, please.”

Feyre appeared beside you both, and she placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “The wolves will finish the rest of them. Let’s go.” Air and wind ripped around you as she winnowed you back to the base camp.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you were running to find Azriel. You could scent his blood, bile rising in your throat as you raced against the clock.

Bursting into the medical tent, you saw him sprawled on his stomach, his grunts filling the tent as his body jerked in pain, the Faebane spreading. You broke at the site of his wings, the skin of them shredded and withered as the poison worked fast. Rhys was beside him, holding his brother’s hand as he spoke softly, likely working to ease his pain.

“Azriel,” you rasped, your face crumpling as you rushed to him. Closer now, you could see the way his brows pulled as he panted and sweat. “Y/N,” he gasped, trying to raise his head.

“Shh, don’t try to speak,” you said, eyeing his back and watching his wings twitch another time. Something snapped in you then, and instinct took over as you fetched ointments and bandages and got to work.

Your hands shook as you hovered over the first of many arrows you would need to remove. “This is going to hurt,” you warned, before pulling on the wooden stem, clenching your teeth as Azriel sounded a yelp. You cried for him as you discarded the arrow, pressing on the wounds to stop the bleeding and rubbing ointment to halt the spread of the poison. Sweat stung your eyes as you tried to focus, doing your best to ignore the voice that questioned if it would be enough to save him.

“Where is Madja?” you gritted, pulling another arrow which caused another jerk from Azriel. He had stopped yelling now, and you knew he was slipping further into exhaustion.

“She’s on her way,” Rhys said tightly, his eyes glowing as he continued to manage Azriel’s pain from his mind. Feyre stood beside you, replacing the bandages and dressings you needed as she watched your handiwork with a pained expression.

You didn't respond as you ground your teeth, pulling out the last of the arrows.

“There,” you said, moving to crouch at Azriel’s face, his eyes blinking in and out of sleep. “They’re all out.” You couldn’t help the instinct it was to softly stroke the side of his face. “Madja will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said, his voice weak. ‘A-are you ‘k?”

“I’m fine, Az,” you said softly with a broken smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good,” was the last thing he said before finally giving in to exhaustion.

Stepping back, your ran shaking hands over your face as you tried to breath. You were riddled with worry as you paced the tent. What if Madja doesn’t have the right antidote? What if she doesn’t arrive in time, and he dies in his sleep? What if his wings never heal?

“Hey, hey,” Rhys caught you then, steadying your shoulders. “It’s going to be alright.”

You broke then, falling to your knees as the events of the past day caught up with you. You had been snatched from your own tent and beaten by Hybern’s army. They had used you as bait, promising to kill anyone you would try to retrieve you. You begged Rhys mind to mind for him and the rest of the circle not to come – you would rather have died than risk their lives. But they had come anyway – Azriel now at death’s door because of it.

Rhys’s and Feyre were on you then, rubbing your back and reassuring you softly. You couldn't hear them over the sound of your own cries.

“He might die,” was all you could get out, your voice strained and broken.

Feyre held you close, as Rhys took your hands in his. “You’ve done an excellent job at removing the arrows, Y/N. Azriel is stronger than you think. Madja will be here soon, he’ll survive this.”

You looked back at Rhys, your expression longing, desperate to believe him.

Feyre pulled you up gently, her arms firm around your shoulders. “You’re injured too Y/N. Why don't we have you checked by a healer, hmm?”

She wasn't wrong, your body ached with bruises, blood crusted at your lips and nose, and you were sure you had a few broken ribs. But panic rose at the thought of leaving Azriel’s side, and you shook your head stubbornly. “I won't leave him.”

Feyre exchanged a look with her mate before nodding. “I understand,” she said gently.

Madja arrived shortly after, bustling over Azriel’s back while he slept. She came with a specially brewed liquid, and asked you to feed it to him while she reapplied his patches. You felt awful waking him from the rest he needed, but Azriel had grunted in acknowledgement, swallowing the liquid as you bought the vile to his lips. You gently placed his head back down on the cot, stroking his hair as you hoped painless sleep would find him again soon.

The rest of the Circle had come to the tent to hear Madja’s update – Azriel was stable, and she credited your work to remove the Faebane as soon as possible. His wings would take months to heal, but he would be able to fly again. Your body sagged in relief, tears falling once again as you glanced at the large Illyrian who slept through the quiet conversation.

You refused to leave his side, watching him take deep breaths in and out, each one a blessing. He was so brave, so selfless, and it shook you to think he had risked his own life to save yours. You were rather new to the Inner Circle – and Azriel, while polite, had always been quiet and reserved. While you had previously considered him a friend, the extent of his sacrifice showed you he meant so much more.

Slumped in a chair beside his cot, you finally nodded off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. You don't know how long it was before you jolted awake at the sound of Azriel stirring. Leaping up, you immediately went to him, crouching at his side.

“Y/N?” he coughed, voice hoarse.

“I’m here.”

Azriel blinked at you, trying to focus after hours of sleep. “You’re alive?”

“Alive and safe, thanks to you.”

“Thank the Cauldron,” he said gruffly, before trying to raise himself. A grunt escaped him, and he fell back down in his cot, not yet strong enough to sit up.

You bought a soft hand to his arm, rubbing it gently. “How’s your pain?”

“I’m alright,” he answered, an obvious lie.

“Madja says you’ll make a full recovery.”

Azriel hummed at that. You couldn't believe he was concerned with your wellbeing before his own.

“Azriel,” you said, blinking upwards to try and stop the tears that brewed. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned at you then. “Whatever for?”

“You risked your life for my own. Your wings” you waved a hand to his back. You were glad he couldn't yet see the splatter of dressings and dried blood that covered them.

Azriel sighed, closing his eyes. “I had to get you back.”

You blinked at him, one slow tear rolling down your cheek. “I asked Rhys for you not to come.”

“I know,” he replied, opening his eyes again, their hazel glow boring into yours. “You’re a fool to have asked.”

You laughed then, clutching at the sharp pain at your ribs. Azriel smiled back softly.

“You’re smiling,” he said gently. You finished your laugh, returning his smile as you nodded. “You have a beautiful laugh.” You were sure it was the exhaustion that willed him to say it, but never the less, a blush tinged your cheeks so quickly you had to look away. Azriel reached for you then, and you clasped his scarred hand between your own.

“I was so worried about you,” you admitted, pain returning to your eyes. He closed his lids again, a hint of his smile still there. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You frowned now, pulling your hands back to wrap around your stomach. “I couldn't stand the thought of you dying for me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“I know. But, what a waste.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You swallowed, guilt working its way through you. “Promise me you won't ever do something so reckless again.”

“No,” he said tightly. “It wasn’t reckless, Y/N. It was necessary.” Azriel took a quick breath before continuing. “You’re very important to me.”

You sighed at his response, shaking your head and placing one hand atop of his. “You’re important to me too Az.”

Azriel’s eyes bored into yours as you shared a silent moment. He cleared his throat then, flicking his gaze to your chest. “You need to see a healer,” he remarked, eyeing the way in which you clutched at your ribs.

“No,” you said quickly. “I’m fine right here.”

Azriel nodded, before a painful cough racked through him.

You blinked, realising he might like some privacy. “You should rest some more” you said shyly, straightening yourself as you got up to leave.

A scarred hand caught your wrist.

“Don't go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Shadowsinger. “Please, stay here with me.” he added, eyes pleading.

You smiled now, once again stroking his face. “Always.”

--------

✨Comment to join the ACOTAR tag list ✨

Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468

#azirel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel injured #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fic #acotarfanfic #acotar fan fiction #rhysand #feyre #cassian #inner circle #inner circle angst #inner circle fluff #acourt of thorns and roses #protective azriel #mating bond

552 notes · View notes

hermesserpent-stuff · 22 days ago

Text

new au @honey-minded-hivemind

this is the one where remy finds creed in a bad way in an alley when remy is 13

tw:blood body horror

Remy finds himself grinning as he slips into another alley. He had been picking pockets, letting his clever thirteen year old fingers fish out heavy wallets of tourists that should know better. His own pockets are heavy with ill-gotten cash. His papa had challenged him to get more than he had gotten last week without getting caught. A pretty standard challenge. Helping him polish up his skills of going unnoticed in crowds. Now to get home to get to practicing on maths and lockpicking.

He blinks as he moves further into the heavily shadowed alley. He smells… is that??

Blood. Lots of it. He inches forward and sees what must be a body. Or was a body. Rib bones hang free in the air, flesh just barely clinging. Chunks of muscle and flesh liter the alleyway like discarded beads after marde gra. Limbs twisted up in ways they really should not be, like a puppet cut off from its strings. Remy finds bile shooting up from the pit of his stomach. He twists and throws up. He coughs around the aricid taste. He coughs and shivers and then freezes.

An undulating growl comes from the bloody mass of what must have once been a person. He twirls back around, knees knocking a bit as he finds red eyes staring straight at him. The pupals are slitted. One eye is sealed half closed with a sticky mass of drying blood while the other is decorated with the worst bruising Remy has ever seen.

But despite the horror of the scene and the growls, Remy takes a half a step forward. Strange eyes like his. He is not going to leave a mutant to die alone. Not like this. The growl gets louder as he steps closer and Remy begins to whisper softly.

“Easy, easy monsieur. I'm not gonna bring anymore pain your way. Nobody deserves to die alone.”

Remy shifts down to kneel beside the head of the man, ignoring the pool of blood soaking into his pants. He sees that there is missing teeth in that mouth, the canines. He feels a wave of sympathy for the guy. He had awful things happen to him because of his mutation too. He pushes his sunglasses. The eyes meet his glowing ones and the growl lessens. Remy reaches out and gently touches the clumped hair. He pets the hair with soft motions and the eyes slip closed. Remy begins to softly sing, a song that his papa often sung to him when he woke from nightmares. A song that in the guild meant that they were coming home safe from a job.

“And it’s Row Me Bully Boys

We’re in a hurry boys

We got a long way to go

We’ll sing and we’ll dance and

Bid Farewell to France

And it’s Row me Bully Boys Row”

He pets the hair and then notices something. The skin is sealing back in on itself. Remy makes a soft noise at the song's ending. An eye opens to look at him and the purring collapses into a tiny whine.

“Shh, shh, monsieur. I just be noticin’ you healing. Maybe you let me straighten your limbs and see if they don't patch up right too, non?”

Remy picks up singing again as stands and starts moving to the heavy limbs.

“We sailed away in the roughest of water

Row me Bully Boys Row

But now we return in the most royal quarters

Row me Bully Boys Row”

The man makes a noise of pain as Remy finishes straightening the limbs. But Remy can see the tendons knitting back together slowly. He smiles despite the thick layer of blood on his hands now. He slips back over to the man's head and gently pulls it into his lap. He starts getting the hair again and continues to sing softly. The man nuzzles against his fingers. The purrs cascade out of the man again and a sandpaper tongue slips oit and licks at his wrist. The man's breathing evens into what Remy thinks might be sleep.

Though how a person could sleep while in this much pain, Remy doesn't know.

When the rib cage is enclosed with muscle and flesh, Remy gets up and gently pulls on the man.

“Come with me. I take you home. They don't mind my eyes or my booms. “

Remy pulls again, making his eyes wide. He gets a chuff for his trouble and the bigger mutant shifts to be standing. Even with his back slightly bent, he towers over Remy. Hair hangs like a matted curtain, partially covering his face. Remy takes the clawed hand into his own and slowly pulls the man along. They stick to the back winding alleys and shadows, hidden from unwelcome eyes.

When they get home, Papa is the one to welcome them at the door. He stares wide-eyed at the man. Remy looks up and widens his eyes. He lets his lower lip tremble.

“Papa. Please. He got eyes like mine and somebody tore him to bits.”

Jean Luc sighs and shakes his head.

“Aw petit, what am I gonna do with you? Take him to the guest bathroom. He needs cleanin’. I'll scrounge up some clothes.”

Creed is surprised to wake up warm. He was so sure that he would be waking up in a dirty alley after he had been overpowered tied down and ripped apart. He sniffs the air a bit as he starts to open his eyes. He registers the same sweet but spicy scent that had given him comfort in the alley is nearby. He blinks and sees a kid sleeping in a chair beside the bed. The kid has his face mushed into his knees and snoring softly.

“Mon petit was worried you weren't gonna wake up.”

A man says from the window, a trail of smoke drifts from a cigarette out of the window. Creed makes a low growl, to show that he is listening. The man raises an eyebrow at him, face lit slightly by the soft embers of the cigarette.

“Gonna warn you, mon petit, he soft on you cause you share eyes. Mais, I don't trust so easy. Been around too long for that. You be kind to him or I will find a way to kill the infamous Sabretooth, oui?”

The man states. Creed chuffs in agreement. The father nods and mushes his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Rems, Remy, he be wake now.”

The kid wakes up blinking rapidly. Ah, those red shining beacons of comfort. The kid grins and leans forwards.

“Bonjour! You lookin’ better. Might need to brush out this mane though.”

The kid reaches out and smoothes down his hair. Creed leans into the gentle touch, not able to help himself. The kid grins wider. He noses the palm and chuffs.

“Ahh. Told you, papa! He purrs like a grand o’ chat!”

“Cats have claws, Remy. Remember.”

The little kid nods and starts to pull his hand back. Creed growls a little and grabs the tiny hand in his own big paws.

“Cub.”

He states. Words are still hard for him right now. He owes the kid for sitting with him while he was in so much all-consuming pain and making it feel a little less like the world was ending. And for bringing him somewhere safe and warm to rest and finish letting his organs knit themselves into the proper place. He licks the fingers and chirps.

Remy blinks and then starts petting his hair again.

“D’accord. Not gonna hurt Remy right now are you?”

The kid smiles happily. Creed chuffs and noses the fingers again.

“See papa, it's gonna be fine.”

The man walks over and ruffles the kid’s hair.

“Fine. He can stay. I'll grab you some more blankets petit. And some gumbo. Tante Mattie’s been cookin’ up a storm since you dragged home your own stray.”

Remy sticks out his tongue.

“You keep calling me your stray, this cajun gonna think you don't want him no more.”

Remy chirps, face split open in a wide grin.

“Don't be silly t’rubis. I ain't never gonna wanna be rid o’ you. You bring too much joy.”

The man says kissing Remy’s head and giving Creed a firm look of warning before leaving. The kid turns back to Creed and hums.

“Mon papa is just worried. Mais, it’ll be okay. You're safe here minou. Safe. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when there be food, oui.”

“Okay, cub."

Creed chuffs out eyes slipping closed again.

#hermes speaks #remy lebeau #gambit #victor creed #sabretooth #x men #saving strays au

14 notes · View notes

tirsynni · 2 months ago

Text

Nivannedy Week Day 2

Survived the Thanksgiving trip. Barely. Here's Day Two of Nivannedy Week. I'll title it later when I post in on AO3.

DAY 2: “Who did this to you?”

Untitled Part One

The plan was to meet with Agent Kennedy on-site. Leon’s handler, Agent Hunnigan, notified them that Leon had arrived approximately 24 hours before the BSAA team. Chris Redfield joked that the site would be cleared -- and probably on fire -- before they even landed. Piers Nivans wished he could agree. Maybe it was the echoes of Tatchi and the reports of Leon being killed in action prior to that, which did it, but Piers couldn’t shake his bad feeling.

When there was no sign of anyone at the rendezvous site, Piers’s bad feeling only worsened. A check-in with Agent Hunnigan confirmed no contact with Leon for the past four hours. The decision to split up and look for Leon was quick and uncontested by anyone on the team.

“Goddammit, Leon,” Chris grumbled over the coms. The signal was poor in this area, but not even the crackling of the radio could hide the worry in Chris’s voice. “If Claire doesn’t turn me gray, he will.”

Piers grit his teeth and didn’t respond. From the outside, the site looked like any other abandoned factory, ravaged by time and rust and the creeping wilderness. The inside looked much the same at first: broken furniture, cracked and shattered windows, no signs of life. Several rooms in, though, the picture changed.

“Bodies found,” Piers reported, assessing the area. He couldn’t quite make out what the room was supposed to be. Not a lab. Possibly an administrative room. There were multiple broken desks and chairs, and at least three visible bodies on the floor. Dried, dark red blood covered all of them.

“Anyone we know?” Chris asked. His voice was tense.

“No,” Piers said. He swept the room with his rifle and stepped carefully forward. He clenched his jaw as he studied the corpses. “I think they’re members of the staff.”

“BOWs?”

“Unknown.” Piers stared at the corpse closest to him. A woman with her long red hair torn from its bun. Broken glasses laid beside her body. “Human. Looks like stab wounds.”

“Do you think it was Leon?”

“No,” Piers said instantly. He assessed the corpse closest to the woman. The man was wearing a bloody white coat. “Not with these wounds.”

The woman’s death had been quick. She probably hadn’t had a chance to react before her assailant slit her throat. The cleanness of it hinted at a human perpetrator, but the man’s body definitely didn’t.

“Probable BOW,” Piers reported, studying the corpse. He had self-defense wounds. It looked like he had tried to raise his hand in self-defense before his assailant cut it off at the wrist. The man behind him had tried to run for the door but hadn’t made it before a single smooth blow stabbed him from behind. “Possibly something human-based.” The strikes were too clean and deliberate for a BOW’s brutal frenzy or something with claws. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do you need backup?”

“Negative. The bodies are already in stages of rigor mortis. If I see signs of recent activity, I’ll let you know.”

The next two rooms had more bodies. The third was empty of everything but dried blood. It was at the fourth that Piers paused and hit his comm again. “Update,” he said. He moved so his back wasn’t to the open door and held his rifle at the ready. “Signs of life found. Backup requested.”

The decapitated body behind the desk seemed good and dead, but on the desk, deliberately placed in a spot untouched by arterial spray, was a plate with a half-eaten sandwich and a cup of coffee. When Piers checked, the coffee was cool but not cold, with a splash of coffee still damp on the desk. The sandwich appeared fresh.

“Understood. On my way.”

Piers provided his location and swept the room again. Two doors: the one he came through and the one leading deeper into the factory. Chris should arrive shortly, and then --

“Piers?” a familiar voice called.

All thoughts of waiting for Chris flew out the window. “Leon!” Piers shouted. He started in the direction of Leon’s voice. Habit more than anything reminded him to comm Chris with the update and kept his rifle up. He ignored Chris’s demands for information to call to Leon again. “I’m coming! What’s your situation?”

“Shitty. Do you have a lockpick?”

Lockpick?

The door led to a hallway with two doors on one side, three on the other, and another door at the far end. All of the doors were shut. Piers’s skin prickled, and he scowled. Not good. Not good at all. It would make sense to wait for Chris, but this was Leon. “Marco!” he shouted.

“Polo!” came Leon’s voice from the right. His droll response carried easily through the door.

It was a struggle to keep an eye on the other doors as he jogged to Leon’s door. “Is the door clear?”

“Clear!”

Good. Piers kicked the door open and swept the room with his rifle as he entered. Fortunately, there was no sign of the mysterious killer. The room was all but empty with no visible exits. Just Leon, a table, and a paper plate with a sandwich on it.

Leon, with a black eye, a busted lip, and his wrists shackled to the table.

Piers cursed and rushed forward. “Who did this to you?” he demanded.

“Someone who will be back any minute,” Leon returned. “Do you have backup? And a lockpick?” He paused and considered something. “And coffee?”

#nivannedy #nivannedy week #my fics #unedited

18 notes · View notes

rom-e-o · 3 months ago

Note

So in the spirit of the soon-to-be Christmas season, I was rereading 'Begin Again' and got to the part where Orin's in jail and all that and like-

What do you think Orin's haunt was like? How do you think the Christmas Ghosts + Marley would speak to a man like him? I know Present would probably a lot less jovial with him-

Oh my gosh, you're re-reading "Begin Again"? For the holiday season? That makes me so, so happy. ;;

(I'm currently working on their wedding in-universe, so that is just lovely extra inspo. And Marley would be making an appearance, haha.) Ah, yes. Orin's haunting.

The spirits would be far less kind to him, as would Marley. Past and Marley would be equally brutal. Marley, for all his faults, was not an Orin. Marley might be condemned, but Orin?

Past, taking Connie's form in wax and using her voice, glares daggers at him as they watch the memories. If Scrooge got ping-ponged through dimensions with some whimsy and regret, Orin gets an exclusive trip to his very own Silent Hill with her.

Trigger warnings for abuse, su*cide attempts, SA, violence, drugs, alcohol.

PAST:

They go over everything:

The day Orin's sister, Juliet, left home and told nobody. ("She didn't leave an address for you to write her at. Interesting.")

The day Orin lied on his paperwork to get out of the slums close to Arthur DoGoode, then sees his daughter for the first time. ("Did you know all along what you planned? I wonder.")

The wedding night, when he first hit her and forced her into acts. Then the honeymoon in Switzerland, where he forced himself and friends/colleagues on her. Some paid good money too. This part goes on for hours, hearing her screams and sees her thrashing and tears from a whole new angle as man after man descends upon her. ("That's when she started drinking, because it helped her black out, and took away the pain. No powders yet. Those came later, after you broke her bones. And her dreams for love.")

The Christmas he locked her on the balcony and left her to freeze. ("You said she was sleepwalking. The idiot police believed you, but did your neighbors? Did Connie's mother?")

The Christmas he locked her in a closet when she objected to him swindling with complex financial contracts. ("She was in there the whole holiday. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Alone in the dark. Thirsty. Trapped.")

The night Connie slit her wrists in the bathtub, and Orin saved her, complaining about all the blood. ("Theresea locked you out of the hospital room. She knew. And Arthur ... did you know he brought a pistol to meet you? He really thought about it, but I bet you never noticed. Too busy feeling invincible. Besides, the idea of dying in prison away from his wife and daughter is what stopped him, not any mercy for you.")

The day of Arthur's funeral. It's a huge event, with hundreds of people gathered. ("More than you'll ever have at yours. You keep checking your watch. You were bored, Spiegler? Or thinking about what you'll ask Connie to make for dinner? ... You know, Arthur never forgive himself for introducing you two.")

The Christmas he shoved her down the stairs of the Astor House, breaking both her legs. He waits fifteen minutes before getting help. She cried for help the whole time. "O-Orin, h-help ..."/"Stop talking! J-Just shut up! I need to think."/"If I don't ... I love you ... Orin."/"Stop talking! Are you deaf? You idiot!" ("You didn't want people to find out. You'd become too bold.")

The trip to the hospital, and the discovery there. ("It was always convenient. You didn't bed her often, but when you did, you weren't careful. Any time she needed a doctor's treatment, you paid them off to ... check. And when it was true, they did their duty before she ever woke up. You thought she didn't know. It's her body. She knew. She would have probably agreed, you know. Any spawn of yours shouldn't exist")

Then, finally, the day she says goodbye. Withdraws money, sneaks out, and throws her wedding ring in the ocean before hiding away in the basement of the boat. ("Does it infuriate you, Spiegler? That she outsmarted you? It shouldn't. She was always smarter than you. With money. With people. Her biggest mistake was actually falling in love with you.")

There is no whimsy in looking at his Past. There are no happy memories. No good times. It's just mistake after mistake. And seeing it all before him ... it makes Orin panic. He never thought he'd have to pay. And Past taking Connie's form, glaring at him as he world literally fractures apart? Reality crashes into him.

PRESENT:

Present? There's no jolly song-and-dance. Orin arrives in his chamber, and finds Present standing amidst towers of food and sweets. But ... all the dishes are wrong.

It's all the foods Orin used to ask Connie to make regularly. Eels in aspic. Tournedos de volaille. Pots of rarebit and bread. Peanut brittle. And it's all rotting.

"You have immaculate timing," Present would tell Orin, his voice booming. "I can not take you anywhere this night - it is New Year's Day, and I am bound to Christmastime in my travels. But the veil is thin. I can show you what happened ... mere days ago."

And Orin sees Constance and Ebenezer. At first, his anger returns. The bitch, he thinks. Then ... he keeps watching. There is no casualness to their movements. Nothing steamy or sexual (well, not in that moment). They don't act like two people having an affair. In fact, it's ... tender, what he sees. Loving.

The couple is standing before a roaring hearth in the otherwise dark mansion, their bodies bathed in firelight. Mr. Scrooge's mansion, Orin notes, with all the tacky yuletide decor. With a saunter that's almost bashful, Ebenezer crosses the room and overturns his hand to her in welcome. Slowly, she accepts it, drifting closer in foolish hope. Then, he leans down and brings their lips together. It's not a frantic brush of contact, but rather, it smolders like a lit ember. Tilting her head slightly, she welcomes the new angle. One strong arm cradles her shoulders while another is slung low around her waist, steadying both of them. He dips her backward, allowing gravity to help deepen their kiss. When they part for air, he grins at her sheepishly. He looks so young, almost boyish, with his blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes. Orin notes that he looks ... besotted. In love. “Merry Christmas, Constance,” he whispers. “I … hope you made some better memories of the holiday this evening.” So, she'd told him. Constance nods. Just as he was about to drift away, she grabs his shoulders to stop him. Not wanting to leave him emotionally abandoned, her lifts her hands to cup his face. She moves so slowly, offering plenty of time for him to move away. He never does. With her fingertips skimming his sideburns, she leans in and kisses the side of his aquiline nose. “Merry Christmas, Ebenezer,” she says. “And, um, yes. I would say I most certainly did.”

He also catches a glimpse of New York. His coworkers. They don't mention him.

The next thing he sees is fire. Endless, hot flames, before the final ghost appears.

YET-TO-COME:

Yet-To-Come would treat him with the same indifference. After all, no matter your status or wealth, death plays no favorites.

He is shown two futures. The first is right after he brings Connie back to New York from London. She doesn't go easily, but he prevails. She's his wife, after all. There's nothing she can do. She knows that.

She fights him at the docks, and finally, in a blaze of fury, he pushes her one last time. She flies off the bridge and crashed into the Hudson, where she drowns and dies. Dead, by his hands, finally.

When Ebenezer arrives in port the next day to find the memorial to her, his pained scream is enough to shake the heavens.

Then the scene changes. The second future. It flickers to Orin's funeral. Not a soul is in attendance.

MARLEY:

For Marley, it's personal. Think about it - he dies, yet finds a way to come back with Three Spirits to make sure his only friend/partner doesn't share the same horrible fate as him. This work provides him with no benefit. No salvation, no do-overs, nothing. The only benefit is saving his partner from the same eternal damnation as him.

An Marley sees Scrooge change. He sees Scrooge become a giving philanthropist. With his help, the "Festive Fund for the Poor" grows too big for tip boxes to contain. He's present for the birth of Harry and Hela's child (specifically, he keeps his nephew from pacing a hole in the floor while she pushes) - he sees his family legacy continue, and sees him holding their baby. He's turned everything around, and in such a short time. Marley is even okay with Cratchit's name replacing his on the doors. They needed new signage anyway, he thinks fondly. Something newer and more in-fashion.

Then, he sees Scrooge find this sad, frail, and frankly kind of pathetic woman in the streets. ("Look at her dress, poor thing. Old boy better buy her something nice.") Interesting, he thinks. He sees them fall in love, and quickly. He saw how he acted with Isabel, and even then, he wasn't so besotted. Plus, she's a perfect clerk, and rounds out the counting house team splendidly.

When he sees Ebenezer embracing happiness and the promise of romance anew with this woman, it feels like they've finally come full-circle. He's going to be okay, Marley thinks. That fills him with all the happiness he could hope toy have in his afterlife.

Then this corrupt, New York businessman barges in and tries to undo everything. To rip it all away. To undo an entire year of growth.

Absolutely not.

"Orin Spiegler, the Spirits and I have only intervened with individuals like you on Christmas. To right wrongs and to help others, as we can. However, your past and future are so vile .... you are the only exception thus far. Our end goal for these lost mortals is usually redemption. However, in your case ... our only hope is change. To cut to the bone to foster regret. Pray that is the worst of it."

Then ... Orin wakes up. Honestly, he contemplates hanging himself in the cell, but what will that do?

Moved by Past and Marley's actions, he asks for the constable. He confesses to everything, but asks for a pen and paper.

He has two letters to write before he goes.

#ask #thedivinelights #FORGIVE ME FOR THE LENGTH #I had way too much fun #oc orin spiegler #scrooge netflix #Scrooge 2022 #begin again #scroogeverse #tw abuse mention #tw sui #this gets dark #tw sa mention #tw alchohol mention #tw drug mention #Scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode

11 notes · View notes