#I do however still have my Dead Dove fic that I started a little before my writing slump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princeresnikov · 1 year

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heart in my hand (still beating) {The Son}

{ it's in my nature masterlist }

Summary: Clementine is forever cleaning up The Son's messes. He doesn't even realise the lengths she goes to for him until he comes face to face with the ugly truth after refusing to listen to her again and getting them both taken hostage after trusting the wrong asshole in Vegas. // Fie, my lord, fie, heir apparent and afeard? What need you fear who knows it when none can call my power to account? Yet who would have thought the young man to have had so much blood in him...

A/N: 3925 words. the quotes from Lady Macbeth are due to the image i have in my head of Clementine washing the blood from her hands in this moment, edited to fit Clementine's thoughts as The Son looks on in horror. also ive kind of pulled from the John Wick universe regarding body disposal crew logic. This is very unedited but idk how else i can put this in the fic; it's the moment The Son started to view Clementine as a monster.

PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS !!

Warnings: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, murder, blood and gore, attempted non-con, non-consensual drug use, mutilation, murder with kitchen utensils, hurt and attempted comfort but clementine's not great at it because she's mentally checked out, immobility. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @lovv24 @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair

Golden hour is upon them, sunset streaming through the wall of windows past the adjoining, open-planned living room. The sleek, white décor of the penthouse is painted gold and orange, at least where it's not splattered and dripping red.

This blood will take hours to scrub from the walls.

Clementine's only solace as she's rigorously washing the blood from her hands with Dawn dish soap over the kitchen sink, is that the penthouse they'd been tricked into was almost completely tiled. Small miracles. The rushing water is a pleasant, luke-warm, focusing on the sensation of her soap-slicked hands sliding against one another as she runs on autopilot, thorough without even having to spare the task itself, or even the events that had just come to pass, more than a second thought, focus instead upon considering what her next course of action would be. However the moment of levity that had come with her momentary mental drift had vanished as the blood she's otherwise covered in begun to cool, and she's pretty sure the hoard of large men who'd left her dress in tatters won't have another in her size. As she began to splash water and soap further up her arms, the grimace turns to a frown and she wonders if The White Death will make her pay for the body disposal service, or if she can convince him that his idiot son aught to.

It was all his fault, after all.

He's looking at her. She knows he's looking at her. She wishes he'd stop, wishes he'd listened to her in the first place about not bringing that insipid little weasel with the bad gambling habit with them to Vegas. But why would he start listening to her for the first time in his life in the middle of a particularly hedonistic bender that he'd started over a week ago, just before his birthday. Of course he hadn't. So why couldn't he remain so consistent in this moment and stop fucking looking at her?

It's not like he's never seen the aftermath of her violence; he's seen her washing bloody hands, seen her scuffed knuckles and scratches across her from when her victims had tried to fight their fate and Clementine's objective, he's seen her tend to her own wounds, and throw punches and -

Except she knows it's not the same; he could walk away from those, could ignore them, refuse to entertain further thoughts about what it all means about her and the work his father asks of her. It's always been at the peripheries of their interactions, if there at all. Before, he could pretend like it's all a bad dream, that Clementine was simply his pretty, little minder, perhaps clumsy enough to be covered in mystery bruises and scratches. When he'd held her close, she'd only ever been soft and pliant and eager to please; she knew it made him happy to think that this was how she always was. So maybe she tried to downplay it, even when his recklessness would put him in the line of fire.

It hadn't even occurred to her before this that perhaps she'd done too good of a job, that the subtlety with which she'd dealt with the threats around him had allowed him to feel a false sense of security.

Did he know she was even capable of this?

Instead of looking at him, she bends her face to the tap, taking another large mouthful of water, just as she had the moment after she'd let go of that weaselly bastard and let him fall to the floor. But it still felt like she could taste the blood and last gasping breath of one of the others where she'd made a very good attempt at ripping his throat out with her teeth. Salty and metallic, it covers the taste of the Rohypnol they'd thought would work against her, just as it obviously had on The Son where they'd been tied to chairs, side by side. Part of the training she'd undergone during her youth, and that she'd made sure to keep up with, was developing an almost inhumanly high tolerance against as many of the more easily available drugs that were used maliciously; the fact that she had cause, in her line of work, to be grateful for her practical immunity to most common roofies, multiple times made her sick to think about.

God, she she should shower, scrub all of this horrible event from her skin. Except that she'd still need to have another one after scrubbing the blood from practically every surface; the body disposal crew did only as much as their name entailed, she'd learned the hard way when she first began working for The White Death. Fuck, she should make sure his Son is okay, right? Except that that bastard was still watching her, she could feel it, and his gaze was one she was unfamiliar with. It was making her skin crawl. So maybe she should start cleaning. Or call the disposal crew immediately. Or begin to deal with the consequences of killing The Son's traitorous acquaintance too. It had to be done, she'd reasoned, but the aftermath was still a chore in it's own right.

A deep breath grounds her in the horror of this moment, sticky-hot and metallic even after she'd rinsed the blood from her mouth, waking a small voice in the back of her mind that weeps not for the situation, but her detachment to it all. There's something putrid in the air, the stench of death and waste and things that should be on the insides of people being very much on the outside. It smells like rot, even though all eight others were alive only an hour ago.

Exhaling, Clementine shut off the tap.

The sudden silence bares down upon them, humid, claustrophobic, nightmarish.

In the following moments, still contemplating what to do first, she cast her gaze around, finally settling on her charge, the man she'd been trying so hard to ignore. Except The Son isn't looking at her, not really. Crumpled on the ground yet still tied to a chair, he was trapped in his own body, and the half embrace of the corpse who had taken him to the ground since he'd tried to use The Son as a shield once the fighting had broken out. Even before that, he'd barely been able to move a muscle, since he shared neither Clementine's irregular upbringing, nor her unnaturally high tolerance for strong sedatives. Part of her knows she should check on him, the tile floor and extra body had made for a hard fall, not to mention the knife that had been at his neck; clearly he's alive, breathing and blinking, if nothing else. For a moment, his gaze flicks to meet hers, but it's somehow shocked and vacant all at once, like he's still processing it all, doesn't quite know how to feel, before it flicks back down. There's almost relief, except Clementine knows he's not looking at her.

The body of his traitorous, rat of an acquaintance who'd sold him out to the cartel was slumped against the counter right beside her, far warmer than the others, tear tracks still drying on his cheeks and expression as distraught as when she'd spiked a carving knife up into him, mid panic attack, through the soft, underside of his jaw. While his death was of course necessary, given the circumstances of the betrayal, he had simply been a greedy fool who couldn't have suspected the consequences of his actions; she wasn't going to prolong his death if she could help it. There's blood and his own sick shining down his shirt in the golden sunset, like a moment trapped in amber, and finally Clementine knows what she has to do first.

Find her bag.

The body disposal crew tells her that their branch closest to her location will dispatch a team within the hour. It's the delicate work she's decided to do first, sewing the seeds of an alternate story to obfuscate the truth. After putting her phone back in her bag she digs around the host of medical supplies that had been steadily growing over the years, pulling on a pair of disposable, surgical gloves.

Still, The Son is silent. He hadn't been able to properly speak since the drugs hit his system, and he'd stopped attempting to communicate after he'd hit the ground, not too long into the fight itself. Now, however, he is watching her. His eyes follow her as she moves around the room, picks through his acquaintance's pockets with a practiced kind boredom. His eyes follow her as she picks her way over to the Cartel leader to search his pockets too for his phone, his left hand still pinned to the table with a paring knife as he'd been reaching for his pearl-handled revolver as she'd snapped his neck. His eyes follow her still, fixed to her, with that same unreadable expression as before, watching as she uses the dead mens' fingerprints to unlock their phones and build the false narrative.

After setting up an exchange via messages between the two mobiles, that the traitor was thought to be unreliable, and owed the cartel far more than he was able to pay back, Clementine used the cartel leader's phone to call the traitor several times, letting phone ring out each and every time, following it with a series of furious, threatening texts from the cartel. No longer having a need for the cartel leader's phone, she removed the SIM card, obliterating it with the still-bloody meat mallet from the surprisingly well-stocked kitchen. She throws the phone and it's SIM into the garbage disposal for good measure, and puts the traitor's phone in her bag.

The Son's gaze had never once waivered from her.

When Clementine approaches him, finally, he looks almost reproachful, but he remains silent. Neither one makes a sound as she unties him from the chair, always gentle, especially as she extracted him from the corpse that looked like he was half clinging to the back of The Son's chair, carving fork buried in his throat at an angle, it's prongs just breaching his skin on the other side. Clementine hadn't noticed in the moment he'd died, nor in the moments after, how he'd bled out against The Son's back, leaving the two of them in a pool of his blood, ruining one of his favourite shirts in the process.

Still, she hauls him with relative ease to the spacious bathroom, sitting him upright against the counter as she turned on the shower. Everything she does now, she does with delicacy; she lets the water run until it is a pleasant warmth, she places both her own phone and the traitor's on the counter, and shifts The Son to sit against the wall by the shower. She angles the water so it's hitting him without hitting his face, and he finally looks away from her. Following his gaze, they both watch the blood leech from his clothes as they grow damp, swirling and diluting down the drain.

Clementine steps away for a moment to grab a wash cloth, but she's back by his side in an instant, kneeling by his side beneath the water. Her hands don't shake as she began to carefully unbutton his shirt. Again, he's watching her. Again, she doesn't want to meet his gaze. The water is washing her of the evidence of the carnage she'd just enacted, and here she was, with the only living witness, treating him like porcelain. Being sweet to him came just as naturally to her as violence did, and so her mind drifts as she strips him of the clothes stained with one of his captor's blood, leaving him in a similar state of undress to her, both appearing vulnerable, in their underwear, beneath the comfortingly warm water.

Clementine's mind is elsewhere as she washes his hair, his face, checking anywhere and everywhere for any injuries he may have received; it seemed the knife to his throat had merely been a bluff, since he didn't even have a scratch. She's wondering when the disposal crew will text her to say they've arrived, and if they'd brought the extra bleach she'd requested, she's wondering if her set up for the traitor will be believable enough after she fabricates a few more false details to make it seem like he fled the country and went into hiding, she's wondering how his father, The White Death, would handle her report of the situation. She's wondering a great many things that have taken her focus from the moment at hand, so she doesn't immediately realise that the look in The Son's eyes had once again changed, and again, it wasn't for the better. Though part of her was irritated at the dour look in his eyes, as if this wasn't his fault, his mess, his carelessness.

Even if he could have answered properly, she wouldn't have bothered asking.

With the water turned off, both clean of the bloody horror of just moments ago, Clementine dries him, and wraps him in one of the fluffy bathrobes, taking the other for herself.

As she picks him up, his gaze shifts, his expression too, which is a good sign that he's getting some of the movement back in his face, but he looks almost... embarrassed. All his notions of her supposed submissiveness seemed to have slipped down the drain alongside all that blood. Now all he can see is the truth of her, and the more he seems to think about it, the less he likes what he sees. Usually Clementine would have dedicated herself to nursing his obviously bruised ego, but unfortunately for The Son, though she's sure his father will understand, she needed to tend to the eight bodies in the other room, and making sure they can make it back to Japan without suspicion.

One of the phones buzz in the pocket of her bathrobe as she deposits The Son on the plush hotel bed, and she leaves him there without another word. At least he understands well enough now that he needs to respect Clementine's work, and to not draw attention to himself; he remains quiet once she closes the door. Part of her hopes he'll just fall asleep, to rest himself after witnessing such a slaughter. Another part, right in the back of her mind, quietly hopes the drugs effect him the way they do many other victims, stealing his memories of this terrible afternoon, and of the brutality Clementine had enacted to make sure he was safe, and that no-one connected to the traitor's deal was able to come after him in future.

It's growing darker now, sunset rapidly descending into an inky night, and Clementine texts the disposal crew with one hand as she meticulously draws the blinds across all the various windows with the other. It's impossible, however, to walk through the room without tracking blood across the floor. Once the blinds are closed, she turns on all the lights, and heads back to the bedroom, hovering by the door as to not trail blood out of the main living area, pulling off her bathrobe and tossing it to the other side of the room to keep it clean for the task ahead.

Once more in only her lingerie, a state with which she is far too familiar, she answers the door when there comes an almost clinical knock. Very few words are exchanged with the disposal team, however she thanks them for the extra bleach, and sets about mopping the tile floor as they begin to prepare the corpses. They don't ask about Clementine's state of undress. They don't ask about the state of the bodies. They don't ask questions when she orders them to stay away from the closed bedroom door, to give her client privacy.

There's a sparseness to the space when the bodies have been disposed of, and the crew having left with as few questions as they'd arrived with. Clementine sat gingerly on the white, leather sofa, unphased by the memory of playing the victim upon it just an hour ago. Perhaps that was the catalyst for the change in The Son's demeanour; watching a man's gut split and spill while his cock is out, over the girl he'd been attempting to assault would change anyone. Anyone not horrifically desensitised to the kind of sexual violence Clementine has learned to endure and exploit over the years. The cartel had wanted to humiliate him, to make him feel powerless, make him watch as they treated the pretty, little thing who wouldn't leave his side like a prize, but they couldn't have known what Clementine would do, what he'd end up seeing instead.

For a moment, holding the phone of the man he'd once called a friend, she feels the ache of exhaustion, and a twinge of regret for how unrestrained she'd allowed herself to be in her frustration. No; regret only that he'd witnessed it, regret only that it had gone that far, regret that she hadn't been more insistent in the first place, regret that she hadn't trusted her gut when his weasley friend had admitted with a guilty smile that he 'really shouldn't head to Vegas, because he makes bad decisions, but ah, it's what, two nights? What's the worst that could happen?'

Her fingers begin flying across the phone's touch screen while her mind is a million miles away, enacting her plan, continuing to set up the alternate version of events. His search will read like he was searching for countries to hide out in, his bank and email will show purchases for plane tickets to various countries, all at the same time from the same place, while it seems like he's asked Google if that kind of stunt would make him harder to find. Part of her wants a cigarette, wants that head rush and the taste of smoke and anything that's not the candle-covered bleach smell that's quickly disappearing with each moment that passes. Tomorrow she will take the long way back to New York; she'll drive them both to California and take the SIM card out of that phone, disposing both in separate bins inside of LAX, and get back in the car and drive herself and The Son across the Mexican border, no matter how long it will take. Days, at least. She'll see if that enforcer of El Saguano's is around for a few shots to take the edge off before she starting chartering them a way back to Japan; The Wolf, she thinks his name is, he's always fun to drink with, even if he's never taken much of a liking to The Son of The White Death. And speaking of;

She will tell The Son to keep his mouth shut, and for once, she knows he will listen.

Leaving the phone on the counter for the time being, Clementine finally heads back to the bedroom, to her immobile charge, to see what kind of state he was in. Sleeping. Soundly, thankfully. Clementine pulls on her fluffy bathrobe once more, and leaves him be. Curling upon the sofa she'd been held down on mere hours ago, all she can do is wait, hoping the drugs have taken their course through The Son's blood by the time he wakes.

Clearly he's still feeling trace amounts by the time he finally rises; the noise he makes in getting up gives him away. Though she doesn't see his unsteadiness first-hand, he holds the doorframe when he finally leaves the bedroom, when he finally sees her again.

Slowly, Clementine stands.

Each movement is so slow, like a performance, like a dance, as she makes her way across the room to him. There's a guarded look in his eyes that's different from before; it's almost resent. Carefully, she touches him, his bare arm, the light stubble on his jaw, the still-damp hair curling by his temple. This close, she can see his arm is shaking - all of him is shaking with exertion. When she wraps a careful arm around him, he lets go of the door, and she guides them both to sit on the cool, tile floor, unwilling to sustain his weight upon her any more than she had to. Like this, she holds him close, arms around him as he presses his face, against the soft bathrobe and her chest. The tightness with which he holds her waist would be tight enough to be uncomfortable in any other situation, Clementine is sure, but this isn't any other situation.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she finally says, voice barely a whisper, her cheek pressed to the top of his head as he was draped against her. The words come out with a soft, almost caring tone, but her expression is glassy, unchanged.

"You didn't," comes his muffled response. He holds her a little tighter; she thinks she might feel him shaking if he wasn't holding her so tightly. Silence stretches out between them. Clementine takes slow, even breathes; The Son's head rises against the gentle movement of her chest, his own breathing far more uneven.

"You didn't have to let them touch you like that," The Son says, in a tone that Clementine can't begin to decipher, but he continues, "you didn't have to lure my friend like that; it was..." he doesn't say cruel, but they can both hear it, just like they can both hear the horror, the disgust as it creeps into his voice. Clementine wonders if he's trying to hurt her, with the tight hold he had on her in this moment. It was clear he was still coming to terms with how easily and comfortably Clementine had victimised herself to lull her victims into a false sense of security; that on it's own had been bad enough to witness, to see how far she was willing to let them go, how blatantly she'd play upon their emotions when she had to, but for it to be followed so quickly with such visceral violence... She wonders if she'd ever be able to repair his perceptions of her, or if she truly wanted to.

Cradling him tenderly in this moment, she pressed her lips to his hair, murmuring that his friend had been a liability -

The Son's face rises, malice and fury and disbelief in his eyes as he hissed back that his friend was just an idiot.

But Clementine's expression is cold. Just as it had been in the hours that had passed. Unchanged. Glassy. Unaffected. Nose-to-nose, he can see that there's no light behind her eyes; she wonders if she can see the resentment she's trying to hide, forever having to clean up his mistakes.

"I love you," she tells him with a sweet-sounding warmth and a dead-eyed stare, "I'm just glad we're alive."

It takes a very long moment for those words to sink in, for The Son to process the situation at hand, finally understanding the lesson for what it was. Slowly, the shaking stops, the tension he was holding dropped, the grip around Clementine's waist eases to something far more comfortable, and The Son sinks back into her embrace for the time being, adding only one more thing before he presses his face back against the soft, warmth of her bathrobe.

"I love you too," with only contempt for her in his eyes.

#bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train imagine #the son imagine #the son bullet train #the son x oc #the son bullet train x oc #the son x reader #the son bullet train x reader #the son bullet train imagine #bullet train 2022 #bullet train oc #bullet train original character #tangerine x oc #tangerine bullet train x oc #its in my nature #Spotify

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ultraviolet-ink · 1 year

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Hiii idk if it's still relevant BUT

for the choose violence ask game: 3, 10, 12 ! 😁

Hello!! I'm always down for asks, thanks for sending this one!! (o^▽^o) 3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr Oh god there's this one take I've seen a year or two ago that still makes me lose my mind lol! Basically it was a post talking about how no one understands the point of the joke "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat" and how it's not supposed to be "what's on the tin" but the absurdity of someone putting a dove in a fridge, and THAT was why it was a joke. Fam, do you not know the next line? "I don't know what I expected", dead dove note on a bag -> dead dove in the bag! That's the joke!! That's why we use it in fic to be an extra label (Aka, mind the tags, product may contain peanuts, etc.) tbh, funniest bad take I've seen in a while tho

10. worst part of fanon Found. Family. It went from one of my most favorite tropes ever, to the one that makes me roll my eye the hardest. People can be close without calling each other family, they're allowed to be friends (Like hell I'm calling one of my old professors my "dad" or "weird uncle", or "mom" or "vodka aunt" we're JUST friends). I also don't like how it all just defaults to a nuclear family set of roles, like there has to be two parents, some kids, and then everyone else is somehow a cousin. I've been getting into GOT/HOtD lately, and damn THOSE family lines are easier to follow than some of the shit that gets passed off as "FAMILY DO NOT SEPARATE OR WE WILL SEND DEATH THREATS!!" And to harp on that second point, it just brings so much wank! I have a friend who made a super SUPER niche DGS ship, and no one ever said these characters were family before they started posting about it-- but one of the characters is often headcanoned to be a lesbian (which, yeah, I'm basic, I also hc the same), so when this "rival" ship came about, it was suddenly "fOuNd FaMiLy". Mostly, I just roll my eyes now at this trope, which is sad because it can be so beautiful. Family really can be a bunch of people you find, and it doesn't need labels!! to summarize: Fuck the concept of the nuclear family, all the homies hate the concept of the nuclear family

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Seishirou Jigoku, he's big and dumb and beefy, pure babygirl <3 But in all seriousness, he is such a fascinating character to me! He really seems like the kind of person who could have done good things in his own little sector, totally inconsequential and mundane, but good. I think he shares a lot of the same characteristics as Genshin and Yujin, optimistic and a bit patriotic. I like to think that he was pretty close with Yujin, it was HIM that convinced the latter to go on the trip after the death of Ayame after all! I just love to think about him so much, how he is with those around them. When it's just him as the judge, he's calm and collected, serious and gets the job done. With Yujin (And I presume with Genshin as well), he's jovial, a little bit goofy and all around enjoyable to be around However, with Stronghart, he twists in on himself, and he leads himself to hell. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I think that really does describe his character so well! He wanted to change the court system in his home, to make it brilliant, but he had to eventually do the unthinkable that fateful night in the cemetery <//3 At the end of the day, he's a small and bitter man... See, he's so interesting!! Prompts here!

#ask game #ask meme #the great ace attorney #the great ace attorney chronicles #tgaa #tgaac #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs #discourse #jigoku seishirou #jigoku seishiro #seishirou jigoku #seishiro jigoku #impromptu character analysis #thank you for the ask!!

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nocaptainonthisship · 8 months

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twenty questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag @wyrd-syster and @bad-surprise!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9, as of this moment, but 10 by the end of the week.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Just over 85k which feels both low and absurdly high.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively, Rings of Power, though I've also got a Captain Swan one-shot, and dabbled briefly with Reylo.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(Artanis) -- my beloved. In which Halbrand is an international superstar, and Galadriel is the girl who broke his heart.

To Make A Queen -- the beginning of it all. I wanted to write a one-shot to remove the haladriel brain rot. It became a two-shot. 11 months later, we're here.

it will come back -- my longest complete work to date. I am immeasurably fond of it, and desire never to read another word of it again.

once, i belonged to you(and twice i was free) -- the rapunzel inspired dead-dove. in which galadriel is a princess locked in a tower, and halbrand is her jailor.

A Kingdom They Became -- what started as my own personal breakdown about my chronic pain became possibly the work I am proudest of to date. I am still overwhelmed by the response to this fic.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Eh. I certainly try to. However, my brain does a thing, you see, where 24 hours after I post something to ao3, the door is closed and my brain considers that fic officially DONE. After that point, responding to comments is a much steeper uphill battle. That being said- I do read and savor every single one of them.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hands down, its It Will Come Back. I had *intended* to write a happy ending, but the closer I got to the end, the more I realized that a happy ending would not have been satisfying. I'm incredibly proud of the ending I wrote, but it definitely hits the angst pretty hard.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Dangerous Creatures -- silly little aussie farm-life fluff. (But its haladriel, so Gal still kills something.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. I have- up to this point, anyway- been incredibly lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, but what kind?? Still figuring that one out, so for now I'll say, "Whatever kind I can manage on any given day."

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't. I might in the future, but I do have a hard time taking crossovers seriously as a reader- I imagine that feeling would be far worse as a writer.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, thank god.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe one day!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Cowritten- no. I am a beta on a fic (this is not a come-on* in any way shape or form by the lovely @ophidion) which is a process I've more than once compared to being a midwife helping someone bring new life into the world.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

All time fave seems like a great way to get me to change my mind tomorrow(no, I'm not commitment-phobic, you are!) so I'll just say I like pretty, bitey girls and bad men who want to change but don't know how. In any permutation.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Everything that is out there currently, I am confident I will finish. The things I've thus far kept to myself? Only time will tell.

16. What are your writing strengths?

This question feels like a personal attack. Yikes. I think- I hope- the way I write sweeps you up like a raging river, uses rhythm and verbiage to transport the reader entirely into a different world. I'm good at the mechanics behind making you *feel* something, of manipulating an emotion to transport you inside what a character is feeling.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Speed. They say you shouldn't care about your first draft, because you can always fix it later. Well, jokes on them, I NEVER fix it later, so I damn well better do a decent job on my first pass. This makes me slow, and makes the thesaurus app on my phone one of my top used.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do not do this, other than perhaps a words here or there(and that word is almost always going to be a pet name I make no apologies.) I think it has it's time and place, but it can also pull you out of the story entirely.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lost (Skate Lives, bby!) beginning wayyy back in the summer of 2005. I was 12, so I thank the gods every days that lost-forum is dead and I never cross posted to ffn. (I also wrote for twilight back in the day, but we don't talk about that.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

The A Kingdom, An Empire, A Home series has, I think, my most beautiful writing to date, and despite being incredibly difficult to write(or perhaps because of it) it is also the most satisfying. It is a complex exploration of pain, redemption, and the complicated feelings towards parenthood. If I traveled back in time to just a year ago and showed past!cap that prose, I don't know that she would believe herself capable of it. Turns out she is wrong, and there is only better to come.

tagging: @alicuntismswrites, @lisenberry, @pursuitseternal, @hazelmaines, @mostlydriedmango, @maironite

(I do not know who has already done this, sorry!)

(Also, if you've tagged me in one of these games at any point in the last couple months and I've ignored: I'm sorry, don't hate me. My brain has been a mess, and these sometimes seem intensely overwhelming.)

#tag game #about me #my fic #cap shouts into the void: the void says hey whats your problem??

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strange-ghoul · 2 years

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Okay, I’m gonna start world building on main here again. Specifically for Dead Dove Copia.

Dead Dove Copia is a AU where Copia has both the antichrist within him and an “guardian” angel attached to his soul. It screws with him in the worst way possible, sending him down a spiral of madness and tragedy.

Anyways HC time:

Copia and Terzo were very close before Copia went through the ritual to become Cardinal.

Copia is ex catholic, and still has a “guardian” angel connected to his soul after all those years being devout.

Copia is the antichrist. When he goes through the process to become cardinal, this “awakens”, along with his “guardian” angel trying to “save” him after detecting the antichrist within him, which greatly fucks with his sense of reality and mental stability.

Imperator basically groomed Copia into a monster when he after he became Cardinal. She’d constantly mock him and demean him about his features and his life, making him anxious and self conscious. At least, she thought that was what she was doing.

In reality, Copia had lost his mind long ago after the ritual to become cardinal. This only solidified his very little connection to reality, especially after he realized they were going to use him as the lead singer for Ghost.

Copia had the Papas killed in a fit of jealousy when he realized they were coming on tour with him. Then he dragged around their bodies to mock Imperator.

Imperator didn’t know who killed the Papa’s until her own investigation with her sisters of sin proved that Terzo’s own ghouls did it. When she found out, she was horrified at the monster she created. She had wanted Copia to become strong through “tough love”, but it’s evident that’s not what happened.

Copia had torn apart and defiled the former Papa’s corpses to send a message to Imperator: “This could be you.”

Imperator becomes deeply concerned not only for herself but Papa Nihil.

Copia deeply regrets killing Papa’s, but refuses to accept that’s what happened. Because of the antichrist and angel within, he can’t seem to face his issues when he’s awake. Instead, he hallucinates and gets stuck in nightmares about the papas, specifically Terzo.

He misses Terzo deeply, and visits his corpse often. He goes as far as sewing together the body again after his rage incident with imperator in an attempt to “fix” him.

Nobody but Sister Imperator knows of this Copia however. Copia continues to play the naive, innocent and awkward version of Papa he’s always played. All the siblings assume he’s the same as he always was, especially Papa Nihil. Imperator won’t leave those 2 alone in fear of Copia doing something.

Mr. Saltarian had no idea of Copia’s streak of madness, and assumes he’s as stupid as he behaves. Though Imperator has tried to bring it up to him, she just gets too nervous and bails out last second every time.

Please send asks or something about this if you’re interested at all in the lore lol. I’m going to be writing fics for it ofc, I already have one called “Accusations” which you can find in the “My fanfics” tag if you’re interested.

Till I make more HC posts, toodles~

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #dead dove #evil copia #papa emeritus #popia #papa emeritus iv #sister imperator #fic idea #copiiia #c3 #dead dove copia au

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exquisiteagony · 2 years

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i was tagged by @pastlink! thank you!!!

rules: list your top 5 favourites of your fics, what they're about, and why you're proud of them, then tag some fic authors to do the same!

this got long so it’s under the cut

1. ‘i’ll tear you apart’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901996/chapters/73591080

summary: To most, a butcher’s work was messy. Crude. Unrefined. For the ordinary person - however much of a relative concept ordinary way - to butcher something was to fuck it up in a manner unclean and unrepairable.

this is the first dead dove fic i ever wrote! it was inspired by a photoshoot wednesday 13 did dressed as a butcher, and to this day its still perhaps the nastiest thing i’ve ever written! i remember writing it at a rather unfortunate moment, and certainly some of the aspects of it were written out of spite, but i still adore it!

2. ‘carnival days’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35199232

summary: “I still don’t like this,” Joel said quietly as they watched the gates open for them.

The Carnival was perhaps one of the strangest places Johnny had told them about. He’d spoken of it like it was something miraculous and contradictory, intangible despite the assault on the senses, feeling eternal and yet somehow as brief as a mayfly.

inspired by the shiraz lane song, as well as the book ‘the night circus’ i think this is one of my best fics to date. i was trying to create a vibe of wonder with some underlying creepiness, and i’m still so happy with how it turned out!

3. ‘prometheus into the flesh you carve the pledge’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35963878

summary: Niko took a steadying breath as he raised the shotgun to his shoulder, the weight of it against him almost comforting. It was so cold the air hurt his lungs, but he’d only have one shot at this. The deer was too large for him to be able to take it down with an arrow, but the shotgun was so loud, and the deer so easily spooked. Running after it would be a waste of energy, and going at a more leisurely pace would run the risk of something else deciding that deer would make a tasty supper.

And the more shots he fired, the easier it would be for the crows to find him.

this was inspired by a rob zombie song, ‘crow killer blues’. i had it plotted out for a short while before i sat down to actually write it, and wound up developing an au i now have two sequels planned for. it’s certainly got one of my lower hit counts joel moment sorry but i think it’s some of my best work

4. ‘salvation a far cry which i will return’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40570605

summary: Pelle held his breath so it didn’t mist the air, barely daring to blink lest something happened during that brief moment when his eyes were closed. Beneath him, the cold of the snow began to seep in through the layers of his furs, and Øystein’s weight above him was firm, pinning him down with as much mercy as the hard, wintry ground.

Øystein’s hair hung down, tangled with twigs and dark and lank, the strands clumped and feathery.

recently i’ve been feeling a bit burnt out and frustrated with my bc works, so i decided to take a mini break from them. i didn’t want to completely stop writing, however, so i started writing for mayhem on a whim after listening to a podcast episode. the little break has helped a lot, and i came up with some ideas i never would have without it, this being one of them. i’d probably lump it with the ‘prometheus…’ fic in terms of vibe, just a little bit creepier

5. ‘blooddrunk you call me insane, degenerate blooddrunk with a razorblade’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36665743

summary: Niko Vilhelm was reviled in vampire circles, and for good reason.

Vampire hunters were infamous in vampire circles anyway, because no vampire looked forward to what awaited them after death, but Vilhelm had a particular reputation for cruelty.

who knew that a children of bodom song would inspire perhaps my greatest au? born out of a crappy mood like some of my other nasty fics, ‘blooddrunk…’ is one of my best fics to date. whilst i don’t think it’s my first time writing torture or vampires, it was the first time i’ve written actual major death, and i left it on a purposeful cliffhanger, not expecting febuwhump to give me the inspiration to make it the expanding series it currently is!

and a special mention to ‘belladonna and aconite’ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38767368/chapters/96934908) for being my longest fic to date, and the first time i’ve really written original characters and have them play a major part. this fic ties some loose threads together and sets up the next few fics, all from the point of view of shiraz lane!

and a final shoutout to my murder channel series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2556715) for being my first favourite project in the bc fandom! it’s been a fun journey to write it, and whilst i’m sad to see that journey come to an end, it’s pretty much fun it’s course

tagging @outcastedang3l , and as far as i know everyone else has now been tagged, so i’ll leave this open for anyone who hasn’t been tagged but still wants to participate!

#tag games #long post #i couldn’t decide on just five lmao

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leemacher · 6 hours

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When We Meet Again Lorenzo St. John x Reader

Summary: Damon was always getting the two of you into and out of trouble, but when you get pulled into the Augustine Society with him, neither of you are sure if you'll ever make it out. What hurts the most though? Growing to love the vampire who'd already been there for years and being forced to listen to his screams.

Content: Reader is a Salvatore vampire, Reader's gender is never specified but is referred to using pet names like "gorgeous" and "love", mentions of child abuse, mentions of parental death, semi-graphic depictions of torture, starvation, major character death implied, angst, fluff, hurt no comfort, hurt with extremely delayed comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, just barely edited

Word Count: 6.1k

a/n: I love Enzo with all my heart and I swear this man has zero fics. When this popped into my head I stopped everything to write it even though it made me cry. Enjoy!

Part 2 is imminent - not sure how many people still read for him, but if anybody wants to be tagged for it just let me know

The stinging feeling running through your veins was the first thing you noticed as you began to wake. Unable to move, even your thoughts had trouble being heard through the pounding in your skull.

The sounds of people around you talking started to ground you, and it didn’t take much longer for you to remember what happened. Damon had contacted you.

It was always Damon wasn’t it? Even when you were kids, it was always like this. When your mother died, he was your anchor. When your father was less than fatherly, he was your shield. And when you felt like causing trouble, he was your guide. Stefan was your brother, but Damon was your person.

So it made sense that when men with wooden stakes and vervain needles went after Damon, you would be right beside him then too. Although, you weren’t sure either of you were entirely happy about that.

It was the first time seeing your brother in almost ten years, you shouldn’t have to be looking at him through bars.

Bars?

Your vision focused, albeit much slower than a vampire’s vision should, and you found yourself looking through a set of prison bars. In front of you, in a cell similar to yours, was a man you had never seen before. To the right, you could barely make out your brother, who looked much better than you felt at that moment.

“D-” you tried to speak, but it ended up in a cough as your vocal cords strained to work after who knows how long. “Damon?” You tried again, struggling to sit up.

As you moved to lean against the concrete wall behind you, he spoke. “Hey, kid.” You had never heard Damon sound so, whatever this was. “How you feeling?”

You scoffed. “You led me into some sort of Van Helsing trap.” You snapped, playfully. Well, as playful as you could manage. “How do you think I’m feeling?”

Unsure of whether his silence or an apology would’ve been more concerning, you focused your energy on the man sitting across from you. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“Lorenzo St. John, at your service. Or I would be, anyway.” He spoke with a little wave and tilt of his head, and also looked as bad as you felt. His clothes were frayed and as dirty as his skin, and even in the dark cells you could see the faint remnants of blood on his body and clothes. However, with short black hair, brown eyes, and an English accent, he would’ve been someone you found attractive had you not been where you were. “Welcome to Augustine.”

Introducing yourself, because if nothing else you had basic manners, you took another glance at your brother. “Are you okay?”

Silence followed. Pushing yourself forward a little, you underestimated your strength which had steadily been coming back, and a little became a lot. Your body shot towards the bars faster than you expected, and tried grabbing onto them to stabilize yourself.

“I wouldn’t do that, gorgeous.”

You hissed in pain at the same time Lorenzo spoke. Pulling your hands away from the bars, you groaned. As anger at your predicament coursed through your veins, the tell tale black markings of a vampire began to appear under your eyes.

Before any of you had a chance to do or say anything else, another man appeared. This time, outside of a cell and with a needle of vervain in his hand. He mumbled to himself while messing with the locks on Damon’s cell.

Fear shot through you. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but the vervain needle accompanied by the metal rolling table he brought with him told you it couldn’t be anything good. Glancing at Lorenzo, you briefly caught him shaking his head at you before deciding to ignore him.

“Hey!” You yelled, but the man continued opening Damon’s cell. Looking at your brother, you couldn’t even tell if he was awake or not, “Hey! I’m talking to you, you ass!”

You stood up as best you could, your body fighting off the last remnants of vervain. Ignoring the stinging sensation, you began banging on the doors to the cell, yelling even louder this time. “Mr. Jackass!”

The man quickly spun around, sizing you up with his nostrils flared. You barely caught sight of Lorenzo’s wide eyes before the man had the vervain needle stuck into your arm. He opened the cell as your strength began to fade once more, mumbling something about you being more active than you should.

Being wheeled down the hall on a gross feeling medical gurney, you tried mapping out the layout of the place as best you could, but he seemed to reach his destination very quickly.

The vervain had made quick work of you, and you barely had the strength to react when the man strapped down your arms and legs.

Barely, being the key word.

“If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask.” You sassed. If you were going to go through whatever this man intended on doing to you, you were going to annoy the hell out of him in the process.

The man left your vision, and you could hear items shuffling around, clinking together every once in a while, before he walked back into your view. A tray of medical equipment and a few unsavory looking tools lay on a metal table he placed next to your body.

Shocks ran up and down your spine, fear sinking into every fiber of your being. Lorenzo was warning you not to make things worse, and in that split moment as the man carved into your torso for the first time, you wondered how long he had been here.

You refused to allow a scream to escape, instead biting down on the inside of your lip. “Oh, so you’re this kind of freaky, huh?” You said once gathering your wits.

The blade above you paused, and you smirked as the man let out a deep sigh. “Unless you’re screaming, shut up.”

The scalpel dug back in, slicing from one side of your abdomen to the other. You barely suppressed another cry of pain, thanking Guiseppe Salvatore for the first time in your life for a high pain tolerance, before speaking again as he set the scalpel down. “Make me, Bitch!”

Shortly after saying that, you felt the man’s fingers pry your skin apart, creating an opening to your stomach. Peeling layer after layer of skin, and cutting more as necessary, the man exposed the inside of your body almost surgically.

You found the strength to lift your head, watching as his hands disappeared inside your body, pushing your organs around. The pain was excruciating, but the sight of your organs and veins being moved around was even worse.

For hours after, or at least for as long as this went on, the man would smirk at every cry of pain. Taking great pleasure in the sounds he was able to bring out of you, every ounce of strength you had went into staying quiet.

Delirium had set in, and after so long, you didn’t even feel like you were alive. Just existing, forever, motionless and in pain. So much so that you didn’t even realize when it had stopped.

You barely reacted to being pushed back to your cell, or gave thought to opening your eyes for long enough to see if your brother was okay. The only reaction you felt capable of giving was a groan as your body came into contact with the stone floor of your cell.

It hadn’t occurred to you back then, but after recovering from your session you realized that the others could hear everything that happened in that room. Damon, while just as witty as you were, was less practiced in the art of silence it seemed.

“Hey,” Enzo, as you had learned to call you, spoke. “Damon said he was your brother?”

You locked eyes with Enzo through the darkness. “Yeah.”

Enzo sighed, flinching with you when Damon let out a particularly painful scream. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Stefan’s face flashed through your mind, and you were briefly grateful that him and Damon seemed to always be at odds. You don’t think you could handle both of them being here.

“Yeah. Another brother, Stefan.”

Enzo smiled kindly as a tear streamed down your face. “Tell me about him.”

So you did.

You told Enzo all about Stefan and the adventures the three Salvatore siblings would have when they were all human. Mystic Falls couldn't handle the three of you, although you were certain there wasn’t a place on earth that could.

When Katherine came around and created a rift between Stefan and Damon, it also pushed the two of them away from you. Turning into vampires however, somehow made it even worse. Damon never forgave Stefan for forcing him to turn, and because Damon was your person, you took his side.

Soon enough, it was almost like Damon was the only family you had left. Despite everything, though, Stefan was still your brother, and you promised yourself that if you ever got out, no matter what Damon wanted, you were going to fix things with him.

For what felt like hours, you told Enzo about everything you could think of. And anytime Damon’s screams hit you too hard, he asked a question or started a story of his own. Together, the two of you took each other’s minds off of where you were.

When Damon was finally dropped back in his cell, the three of you promised that one day you would all make it out. And when you did, you would burn this place to the ground.

“You remember the time you broke your wrist because George Lockwood called you cute?”

You groaned as loudly as you could, ignoring the stinging in your throat as you did so. “Why must you always bring that up?”

Enzo chuckled at the two of you, raising his eyebrow at you questioningly. “You what?”

Damon laughed as you hid your face behind your hands. “George Lockwood was a suitor of hers back in the day. Father thought marrying the two of them would bring both of our families a higher status in the world.”

“And you broke your wrist because he flirted with you?” Enzo laughed along with Damon.

“No!” You shot both men a pointed glare. “I broke my wrist because I tripped and fell.”

“Because he was flirting with you.” Damon chipped in.

“Because I was flustered and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going!” You corrected.

Damon smirked at you from his cell, continuing to tease you. Today was a rare day where none of you were carted off to be ripped apart, and though that meant that none of you would be fed the tiniest bit of blood in existence to heal and thus were all practically starving, this was still classified as a good day. “Because he was flirting with you.”

You groaned again, rolling your eyes. “I was sixteen, Damon. I wasn’t supposed to be good at flirting back then.”

“As opposed to now, I assume?” Enzo pitched in, his eyebrows raised.

“I’ll have you know, I could have any man eating out of my hand if I so wished.”

“George excluded?” Damon smiled. “Or is it just the men who you like that make you prone to running into things?”

“As if I needed clumsiness to drive men away.” You gave Damon a playful glare. “Anyone who I’ve ever been interested in, this one has chased away.” You said, glancing at Enzo and watching as he made a face of understanding.

“Well it’s a good thing I can’t go anywhere then.” Enzo said, his voice dropping slightly. “And with no way to run into anything, you can flirt to your heart’s content.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to look him up and down. “As if I’d want to flirt with you.”

“Please,” Enzo smiled, and you found yourself mirroring it, as he spread his arms out beside him. “I’m a catch.”

“You’d be lucky if you even got a moment with me, stud.” You mocked, teasingly.

“And I’d savor that moment for the rest of my existence.”

Damon cut back into the conversation with a loud groan and a bang. “If you’re gonna flirt, can you at least do it while I’m being tortured?” You giggled while Enzo held back a laugh. “It’s less painful.”

“How you feeling?” Enzo spoke softly to you.

After a particularly rough session, in which Damon was immediately carted off for his turn, you could barely manage to lift your head up off the ground. You tried to speak, but even that felt like too much.

“That bad, huh?” You could hear the soft smile in his voice. “And here I was thinking you were invincible.”

The faintest of smiles crossed your face, and for a moment silence filled the cells. With no noise except the faintest clinking sounds of the men in the room over preparing to cut into Damon, you had time to think about or rather acknowledge the thoughts that had been rolling through your head as of late.

When you first got here, your only thought was of how to get out. For you, it wasn’t an if, but a when, and when you did you had plans upon plans of how you would get back at the people who put you and your brother through hell. Now though? Now it felt as if there was no escape.

It was as if there would never be anything other than pain. You began to wonder what it would be like to die here, or if they’d ever let you die. You didn’t know which was worse.

Gathering all of your strength, you weren’t even sure if Enzo would hear you when you spoke. “Keep talking.”

A second passed before you heard Enzo sigh. “It seems somewhat sad to say, but I think you and Damon are the only two friends I’ve ever truly had.”

For the most part, Enzo avoided talking about himself and his past, saying that there wasn’t much to tell. Because of this, anytime he had to talk for more than five minutes at a time, it landed more on you or Damon.

Though more recently, his ramblings tended to land on you, and this time was no exception.

“The two of you showing up was unexpected after being alone here for so long. You more than your brother.” He scoffed to himself. “You could barely move and yet still, the first thing you did was piss off the doc. Thought you were an idiot if I’m being honest.”

“But then I realized what you were doing. Damon did too, which he was pissed about by the way.” You exhaled roughly in a laugh at that. “Either way you definitely weren’t what I was expecting.”

“As shitty as it sounds, I’m sort of glad you’re here.” He paused. “Don’t know if I would’ve survived just your brother.” His laugh sounded strained, as if there was more he wanted to say, but it was a welcome sound all the same.

The more time passed, the more commonplace those kinds of conversations were. When Enzo or you had a tough session, the other would slip into rambling about anything they could think of. Depending on how everything was timed, Damon would be there too, joining in but mostly listening to whoever was talking.

Even when years had passed and you felt as though you had shared all your stories and talked about everything under the sun, you’d all sit around and pretend you hadn’t heard the same story seven times already just so that you could have something to laugh at again. So much so that George Lockwood became a running joke.

“I’m no George, but I know a thing or two about…” being a common one. “George would never,” and even better, because he was a dick, “George definitely would.”

One of these conversations, however, caught you off guard.

“I think we have a plan.” Enzo’s voice pulled you out of your pain induced exhaustion.

Shortly after, you pulled yourself up into a sitting position and pushed them to explain. Enzo told Damon about the Augustine’s party that was hosted every once in a while. They brought the vampires in cages upstairs and showed off everything they had learned through their torture, while scientists and other guests gawked at the monsters in captivity.

Because of how weak they kept the vampires, the people of Augustine didn’t really invest that much into security. If one of them were to have a little bit more strength, they could get out. Or attempt it anyway.

It was decided that Damon would get all of Enzo’s share of blood for the foreseeable future, as you couldn’t get nor give any of yours to either of them while being on the other side of the hall. Damon would then be able to overpower any of the Augustine scientists and get all three of them out when the time came.

“So, we’re actually gonna,” you cut yourself off. Even when whispering the fear that someone could overhear rocketed through you.

“Yeah, we are.” Damon reassured. “All of us.”

“So,” Enzo asked, quietly. Damon had fallen asleep some time ago, and you and Enzo had been sitting, staring at each other in silence since. “What’s the first thing your going to do when we get out?”

“Other than find someone to eat?” You smirked, matching his volume. Enzo chuckled, and nodded for you to give a real answer. Thinking for a moment, you knew there was no other answer. “I’m gonna fix things with Stefan. You?”

Enzo paused, then gave a half smile. “I’m gonna take you on a date.”

You almost choked on your saliva, your eyes going wide. His smile widened at your reaction, and you let out a nervous giggle before responding. “No really.”

“Really.” He said. “I’ve been sitting here, staring at the most amazing, wonderful creature in existence, being unable to do anything but admire for years.” Looking at him, there was never a moment where he looked more genuine in the whole time you had been here, and you could feel your heartbeat speed up at the realization.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’d allow it, gorgeous.” The two of you held eye contact through the darkness. “But I’m starting with a date.”

You glanced away, checking to see that Damon was still asleep. “Uh huh. And,” you paused for a moment locking eyes with Enzo again. “Say I said yes to this date,” even in the darkness you could see his face light up, “how would that go?”

It seemed that smile was permanently etched on his face. “Well, I’m a little behind on the times, but I have a few ideas.”

You gestured for him to continue, keeping a smirk on your face like you weren’t dying to know what he would say next.

“I’m thinking flowers, a classic,” you nodded, echoing him. “I’d ask you to get all dressed up and take you somewhere that serves whatever you want, and we’d drink and dance and torment anyone who was rude to us through the night.” Your lips quirked upward without your say. “Then I’d take you to a clearing in the woods, or to a lake or wherever was close, and dance with you there under the stars.”

Enzo leaned forward slightly, and you found yourself doing the same. “Yeah?”

Chuckling quietly to himself, he continued. “Yeah. My favorite part is that the whole night I’d be teasing you. Flirting, and affectionate, and getting just close enough that you think at any point I’d kiss you. But,” He gave a shit eating grin. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman, and you’d be waiting all night until I drop you off at wherever you're staying before kissing you until you can’t breathe.”

“And if I invited you in?” Enzo raised his eyebrows at you. “Would you still be a gentleman then?”

“Well, now. Who would I be to deny you?”

The next few months you felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. With every day you were one step closer to being free. It was obvious in all of you, the fear of it not working out was overshadowed by the hope and the belief that soon it would be over.

Laughter became lighter, the conversations became easier, and the pain felt like nothing. It was terrifying, but electrifying at the same time, especially for you and Damon.

The scientists at Augustine had decided that in order to make sure that the vampires were ready for being showcased, and that everything was perfectly prepared, they would end their “experiments” for a week before the event. You and Damon had already had your last session, and while you were worried for Enzo, all three of you were content with the knowledge that this was the last time you would ever see the nasty end of a scalpel.

“I never could get into reading. Especially now that they have films, why would I read something when now I can just watch it.” Damon’s voice rang loudly through the cell hall.

“You could never get into reading because you're an idiot, mate.” You laughed loudly at Enzo’s comment.

“He didn’t even grow up with you and he knows.”

Damon glared. “Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Enzo went to say something else, probably calling Damon another name, when the door to the hall opened and the tell-tale sound of gurney wheels rolling down the hall reverberated through their cells. Your heart sped up and you looked at Enzo, worried.

All of you knew what was coming. Enzo looked back at you, and smiled softly. Nodding his head at you, you watched as the scientist vervained Enzo and pulled him out of his cell.

His eyes never left yours as they laid him on the gurney and strapped him down, and as much as you wanted to look away, you held his gaze. Enzo clenched his jaw before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. As they wheeled him out, you whispered, “Just one more.”

This time, out of all the others, it was impossible to focus on anything other than his screams. It was almost as if they knew what the vampires had been planning and were making sure that they hurt Enzo as much as they could just one last time.

You could hear every disgusting sound that came with them ripping into him, and every whimper Enzo let out as a result. You swore you could ever hear the sound of tears dropping on the ground.

As time flew by in Augustine, you’d debated with yourself what the worst thing about it was. Was it the starvation? The torture? The looks of the scientists who saw you as an animal to dissect over and over and over again?

No, this was it.

Being forced to listen to Enzo cry out in pain for hours on end. Not even listening to Damon get hurt was this intense. As much as you hated to say it, growing up with him and your father had made you accustomed to your brother in pain. But with Enzo it was different.

Knowing that Enzo had been here, enduring this for so long by himself, only to deal with again every single day. A never ending nightmare in which you couldn��t do a damn thing about it. You couldn’t even hold him.

All you could do was sit and listen as he suffered, and hope that this time wouldn’t be the time that broke him, because if he broke, you knew that you would surely follow.

Hours passed by, in which the only thing that kept you sane was picturing him smiling, flirting with you as he always did just because he knew it would make you laugh. Finally, finally the screaming stopped.

You opted to stay silent while the scientists brought him back in. Pissing them off and potentially getting yourself attacked because of it didn’t seem like the best thing to do. As soon as they left the room, you were as close to the bars as you could be without being burned by the vervain.

“Enzo?” He didn’t respond. “Enzo?” You spoke a little louder, your voice trembling slightly.

He laid still, not even groaning, and even Damon looked slightly worried. He should’ve been healing faster than this, and he would’ve if he’d had more blood in his system.

“Enzo, please! Just, say something. Or move, or groan or something.” Your breath was caught in your chest. In the whole time you’d been here, you’d rarely seen him this bad.

After what felt like hours of waiting, Enzo finally stirred with a soft groan. “Enzo?”

He groaned again, unmoving despite having seemed to have gathered a small bit of strength. You glanced over to Damon’s cell where he looked just as concerned as you were.

Before you could say more, the scientist came back in and set down the tiny cups of blood in front of the cells and then promptly walked back out.

Enzo began moving then. Very slowly he made his way to the front of the cell and slowly slid his cup towards Damons cell.

“Wait, Enzo.” He paused, his face scrunched up as he looked at you. “You should take yours today.” You glanced at Damon who nodded at you. “You need to heal.”

“I’ll be fine, gorgeous.” His voice was scratchy and barely audible. Hearing it made tears that you had been holding off before gather in your eyes.

You slowly moved towards the front of your cell as you spoke. “I’m serious, Enzo. Damon can survive one day without it, you-”

“So can I.” For the first time since you’d got here, his piercing glare was on you instead of one of your torturers. “We need to stick to the plan.”

You sighed out in frustration. “We have been, and you're in so much pain you can barely move.” Leaning against the wall just before the bars, you watched as Enzo’s expression softened. “Please, just… Take a little at least, please.”

Enzo closed his eyes, on the verge of listening to your tearful begging, but ultimately shook his head. Sliding the cup the rest of the way, he mirrored your position against the wall and locked eyes with you. “Just a few more days, gorgeous. Then you can hold me till I feel better.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, and watched as Enzo tried to reassure you by smiling through the pain. “Fine,” as soon as the words left your mouth Damon had his hands on the cup. “But I’m mad at you for it.”

“I know.”

Finally. Finally. It was happening.

After five long, hard years, the day had come. Enzo had healed, eventually, Damon was stronger than everyone thought, and you were the focus of the scientists because of your previous attitude. Everything was coming together and in just a little longer, you would all be free.

You tried not to let it show on your face, but anytime you glanced at Enzo or Damon, you knew that you had the same light in your eyes as they did. All three of you were waiting for the perfect moment, hope was no longer just a distant sound you were clinging onto desperately. Your escape was right in front of you, practically pulling you towards it, and you were ready.

Men and women walked and talked all around you, though never too close to the cages despite believing they were perfectly safe. The smell of blood filled with vervain was all around you, and you were half tempted to drain one of them just so that they knew how it felt to feel the blood slowly leaving your body, unable to move or fight, knowing that the only thing you could do was wait for whatever you attacker decided to do with you.

Just one look at Enzo and you could tell he was debating the same thing.

One of the scientists from Augustine began talking, some long speech about his research and the saving of mankind. You rolled your eyes at that, and the man standing next to your cage tapped the side of it in warning.

Damon glanced over at you, nodding subtly. The men then moved to open Damon’s cage to show off their “domesticated vampire.” They pulled him out, and Damon played the part. Ducking his head and feigning exhaustion, the scientists let their guard down.

A woman got close to your cage while admiring Damon, and thus your part of the plan came into play. You snarled at her, lunging within your cage and ignoring the vervain lacing it.

The man watching over you immediately jumped into action, poking you with a wooden spear, also laced in vervain. Until the main scientist told him to stop.

He handed Damon over to two of the other scientists, and turned to you, motioning for the woman to back up and for someone to start undoing the door to your cage.

“You all must be wondering how we’ve accomplished such a feat. Making vampire’s docile and having them under our control.” Three men pulled you out of your cage, one of them holding a stake to your back just in case. “Most of it has to do with their diet, only giving them enough to stay alive and moving while we conduct our experiments, but the other part of our system is a little more, hands on.”

He grabbed one of the stakes from someone near him and plunged it into your stomach. “You see, with their healing capabilities not at full capacity, it doesn’t take much to render them useless.”

You gritted your teeth, holding back the scream you wanted to let out. Before you knew it, Damon had killed the two men holding him while everyone was focused on you. Chaos had broken out.

Everyone who wasn’t a part of Augustine began to run for their lives, while the ones who worked there tried getting him under control. But, just as you had planned, he was stronger than they expected him to be.

You threw the men on you away from you with what strength you had, snapping the neck of the main scientist who stood in front of you, paralyzed in shock and fear.

Damon went after the remaining Augustine employees while you tried getting Enzo’s cage open, hissing in pain at the vervain. In fighting off the humans, Damon had knocked over a lantern, and fire had begun to spread.

The smoke quickly filled up the room, and in your weakened state you could barely stand to be in the building.

“Go,” Damon came up behind you, covered in blood. “I’ll get him out, but you need to leave.” He grabbed your arms, steadying you when you continued fighting with the cage door. “I can’t carry you both.”

You glanced at Enzo, your breaths both speeding up in fear and becoming short and heavy from the fire. “Get out of here, watch out for any more of them coming.”

A second more passed before you nodded, and rushed out of the building. You took a deep breath, falling to your knees and feeling free for the first time in five years. Doing what Enzo had asked, you used your sensitive hearing to listen for any sounds in the woods, hoping that everyone from Augustine was lying dead in that building.

A few moments later, Damon came walking out of the building. You rushed over to him and pulled him into a hug, and he tensed when you looked around.

“Where’s Enzo?” He hung his head, and tried pushing you away from the building, eyes glimmering in guilt.

“We need to go.” He said, his voice tight and heavy.

You pushed him away. “You-... No!” Rushing forward, you tried getting back into the building, but got stopped.

“We’re leaving. Now!” You shook your head violently, trying to fight your way through him, but he was too strong.

“I’m not leaving without him, Damon!” Tears began running down your face at the realization that Damon was going to leave him behind. “How could you- No!”

“Listen!” He stopped you, and at the look on his face, you did. Footsteps through the woods hit your ears. So many footsteps. “Someone saw the smoke and their coming, I can’t get the door open and the fire almost took everything.” He pulled you into a hug. “We can’t save him, kid.”

You held the hug for a moment, before gathering every bit of strength you had left in you, and shoved him away. Anger and sadness filled you. “Then I’ll die with him!”

Rushing back into the building, and leaving Damon behind, you appeared in front of Enzo’s cage. His eyes were sunken in and tears were streaming down them.

Enzo and you both started banging on the cage door, pulling and trying to break the lock. But between the fire, the vervain, and not having the strength to do anything, the cage door was winning.

The footsteps reached Enzo’s ears as the fire got closer and closer to him and you. A shock ran through him, and despite being hurt by Damon’s betrayal, he suddenly realized that he was right. You would die here with him if you didn’t leave.

Enzo said your name, yelling it when you didn’t respond. “You need to leave.”

At his words, you paused, eyes shooting up to him. “What? No!”

Your hands swiftly went back to trying to break the lock, ignoring the bright red burning of your flesh as you did. But Enzo wouldn’t have it. “Please, if you don’t leave you’ll die!”

“I don’t care!”

His hands shot through the bars and grabbed yours. “Well I do!”

You could hear men trying to push their way through the fallen ceiling debris, forcing their way closer to you on one side, while the fire got closer on the other.

“I will see you again, I promise you.” Enzo spoke quickly, his undead heart beating faster and faster at the thought of you dying for him. “But you need to leave, run please!”

Tears fell faster and faster down your face, and a crash sounded behind you, men shouting. “I love you!” You said, holding his hand for the first time. “I love you, Enzo.”

He squeezed your hands in his own, his expression a mixture of sorrow and elation that mirrored yours.

“Then live for me.”

You ducked out into the woods, running as fast as you could, which given all the vervain in your system from the stake from earlier and the men chasing you down, wasn’t very fast even for a human.

Stumbling around, you could barely see in front of you, tears blinding your vision. The sound of running behind you kept you going though, you would not be taken back. Not after everything.

A sound up ahead of you caught your attention, and the smell of human blood invaded your senses. Another vampire?

You pushed your way through the trees, heading towards the sound hoping you would run into another of your kind. If anything they’d probably kill the men with stakes and vervain and leave you to die, or at least be a distraction for you to get away.

An arrow whizzed past your head and you narrowly dodged a second one. The third however, struck you in the leg. The burning of vervain entering your system hit you immediately.

You cried out, pushing forwards still. “You fuckers!”

In moments, you came upon a man, no, he was a vampire. An older gentleman in a suit, feeding on a woman. He eyed you curiously before another arrow shot through the air, striking you in the back.

“Please,” you whimpered, shoving yourself towards the man who dropped the woman’s body to catch you. “Help me.”

“Hold on.”

The man set you on the ground, before leaving to go after the men who were chasing you. Their screams filled your ears, and you would’ve smirked had you not been sobbing on the ground.

Damning Damon for leaving Enzo behind, damning yourself for not being able to save him, and damning Enzo, most of all, for making you fall in love with him.

A silence fell over the woods, and you slipped in and out of delirium. You felt yourself choking on your own breath, your face wet with tears and blood, the man from before hovered over you.

Though you could tell he was speaking, no sound reached your ears. The only thing to leave your lips before slipping into the darkness being, “I’m sorry.”

#tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd fanfic #tvd fic #enzo st. john #enzo st. john fanfiction #enzo st. john fanfic #enzo st. john fic #lorenzo st. john fanfiction #lorenzo st. john fanfic #lorenzo st. john fic #enzo x reader #enzo st. john x reader #lorenzo st. john x reader #leemacher

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misselko · 3 years

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Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

This one took me some days to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to give me some advice and ideas for my next fic! Your warm comments will be cherished very much 💕 Thankies!!

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, smut

Words: 3316

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

“(Y/N)!!!”

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you��d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair.

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a blanket and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered. The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame.

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor king desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, somehow managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem three houses #dimitri fluff #fe dimitri x reader #dimitri smut #sfw #fluff #smut #dimitri angst

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

Text

In the Dark

*Loki x Reader

*Summary: Reader is normally the one to help Loki through restless nights. Now Loki finds out what Reader does when they can’t sleep.

*Warnings: Reader wears glasses; brief mentions of death and loss. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: This is a gender neutral reader fic. I finally finished the Loki series and ugh I love Tom Hiddleston so much.

Tip Jar

**********

Loki had never been good with sleeping. He often ignored his need for rest, refusing to go to sleep until his body caved to exhaustion and forced him. He didn’t like sleeping, not when the nights haunted him with so much loss: the loss of his friends when he betrayed them the first time, the loss of his mother, the loss of who he was, the loss of his own life at the hands of Thanos, the list was too long. Then, when you with your sweet words and soft touches were able to guide him to bed beside you, there were moments where the nightmares turned to his current happiness. The dreams of losing you - whether it be by your death or you tiring of him, it didn’t matter - were perhaps the ones that got to him the most. The other losses he could handle; after all, they’d already happened and he’d experienced them. With your loss, however, he didn’t know how - or even if - he’d be able to survive. So when he woke up from one of those nightmares to the bed only holding a whisper of your warmth rather than you, he was confused and a little scared.

His eyes slowly blinked open, trying to make sense of your absence. As it fully registered that you weren’t actually there, his hand frantically patted your spot, as though trying to see if you’d just moved back a little further in your sleep. However, that rarely happened - you were more likely to cuddle further into his side than you were to move away from him. When he couldn’t feel you, he finally opened his eyes fully, just to see the blanket mussed up on your side. He scanned the room, trying to figure out where you could have gone. Your glasses were still on the nightstand, meaning that you hadn’t fully left the apartment. Your water bottle was missing, and the door was slightly cracked open. Reassured that you’d be back soon, he settled back into the blankets, waiting for you.

When you were gone for ten minutes, Loki began to get worried. It didn’t take you that long to fill up your water bottle, even if you were trying to navigate the apartment in the darkness with your horrid vision. Loki climbed out of bed, wanting to find you just to reassure himself that you were actually still there. He checked the bathroom next to your room just in case, but the door was open and the lights were off. Loki shook his head, going down the hallway to check the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw your shadow outlined by the glass door leading to the small balcony. You turned when you heard him, squinting as you made out his form.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You asked, still squinting as he walked closer to you.

“Nightmare,” he explained, shaking his head. “You weren’t there when I woke up and I-”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, immediately getting up to wrap your arms around his middle. He was quick to engulf you in a hug, resting his head on top of yours as he grounded himself. You were really here. You were in his arms, still with him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“It’s okay, dove. What were you doing?” He mumbled into your hair.

“I went to fill up my water bottle, and I kinda just got distracted by the ways the lights look at night,” you explained. He looked up, looking out the glass door to see what you were talking about. They didn’t look all that different to him, so he looked back down at you. “I forget you have good eyes sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I have my glasses off, the streetlights kinda do this blurry thing where the edge of the lights like diffuse. I dunno how to explain it since you have good vision,” you told him with a small laugh. “Do you want me to go back to bed with you?”

Loki shook his head, looking back out of the window. “No, I think I’ll be awake for a bit longer. Can we just stay here? I think I’d like to see things as you do for a moment.”

“It’s not much, it’s just sitting here and enjoying the quiet. The world is different when it’s the middle of the night,” you explained, pulling him with you to sit on the ground. You sat with your legs crossed, just looking out at the street in front of you. You loved living in the corner unit, getting to see down the length of the street for as far as your eyes would allow. The lights would blur together in this mess of light yellows and whites, providing the perfect background for your thoughts to wander.

Loki seemed unsure what to do with himself, first imitating your seated position, but then sitting with his legs out in front of him. He shifted beside you every minute or so, disturbing your own peace, until finally you forced yourself into his lap, pulling his arms around you. He looked down at you, confusion evident even as his arms tightened around you.

“You’re thinking too much, love. Just focus on the lights and let your mind go blank. Think of a song or something to just let your mind stop overthinking,” you explained as best as you could. You often found yourself here when you couldn’t sleep, thoughts overwhelming your mind as you tried to get them to stop. You would sip at your water, your mother’s favorite song playing in your mind but never out loud because that would ruin the experience. It might take a while, but after you successfully cleared your mind, you’d be able to feel the call of sleep making your eyelids heavier and drawing you back to your spot beside your boyfriend.

“I’m not sure I can, Dove. You know I’ve never been good when alone with my thoughts,” he mumbled as though not wanting to disturb the quiet too much.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” You looked up and pressed a kiss to Loki’s jaw, feeling as he gave you a soft smile in return. You knew this didn’t work for everyone, so you started humming softly to provide some white noise to help ease him into the experience. It was an old song that Steve had introduced you to, but you enjoyed listening to it every now and then as part of your relaxation playlist. Loki’s body slowly started releasing the tension that was there earlier, and though he still held you strong in his arms, you could feel him starting to relax.

After a few minutes sitting there like that, Loki began to see the appeal of this entire ordeal. He always knew you liked looking out at city lights, but for the road ahead to be the only focus for this moment in time, there was just a different feel to it. When you looked at city lights from above, there was the feeling of everything being so small and insignificant, but sitting here in the moment, it was grounding. Loki could feel the lingering effects of the nightmare melt away as he sat here with you in the dark.

Loki didn’t know how long the two of you sat there, but he was content to stay until you told him you wanted to go back to bed. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice when you stopped humming for him. It took him a while to realize your breathing had deepened, but he was quick to notice when your head slumped against his chest, letting him know that you’d managed to fall asleep just sitting there with him. He smiled fondly at you, taking in your sleeping form. He would be content to stay there and let you sleep, but he knew you wouldn’t be fond of the aches that would undoubtedly plague your body when you woke.

“Dove,” he whispered at first, hesitant to disturb you. When you didn’t move, he figured he would have to actually wake you up. He wouldn’t be able to carry you, not from the sitting position he was in. “Dove, wake up.”

“Hm?” You hummed, barely opening your eyes. “I’m sorry, how long was I asleep for?”

“Not long,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure if it was true or not. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You just nodded, still half asleep as you moved out of his lap to stand up. He grabbed your water bottle before taking your hand, leading you back to your bedroom. Loki put the water bottle next to your glasses where you normally placed it as you climbed into bed, eager to be taken into the comfort of the covers. “Baby, hurry up.”

Loki smiled at your half-asleep demand, quick to follow your orders and climb into his side of the bed. As soon as he was settled in, you scooted over into his side, snuggling your face into his chest. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, your breathing enough to lure Loki back into his own slumber.

**********

When Loki woke the next morning, you were already out of bed. He looked over at your nightstand, seeing your glasses missing. Before the slight panic could set in - the nightmare from last night still close enough to make him insecure about your want to be in his life - he heard you making noise in the kitchen. Your noise was enough to calm him, and he was able to go about his morning routine before joining you. You were at the stove cooking breakfast, the song you were humming last night playing softly in the room.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“No, I woke up on my own,” He said, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Is this the song you were humming?”

“Yeah, Steve showed it to me a bit ago.” He hummed in acknowledgement, content to just hold you as you went about making breakfast. “This is gonna sound weird, but did you like sitting there with me last night?”

“I did. It was nice… different. We should do it again sometime,” Loki told you after a few seconds.

“It’s not the same if you plan it,” you teased him, looking over your shoulder at him briefly. “I normally just do it when I really can’t sleep.”

“Why don’t you wake me up then? That way we can both be awake.” Loki knew you wouldn’t agree to it, especially with how much you’d fought to even get him to sleep the amount he did now. “Okay, bad idea.”

“I’m glad you realize it. I’ll meet you halfway - next time you have a nightmare, we’ll come and sit out here for a bit until your mind calms down, alright? That way we’re both awake anyways.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Great. Now, let go of me so I can serve us. Food’s ready.” Loki laughed at your sudden topic change, but let you go anyways. The second you finished serving the food, though, he took you back in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. With you here, in his life, he could actually rest; and even when he had trouble resting, he knew you’d be here to help him.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

#loki x reader #loki imagine #marvel imagine #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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hotwings0203 · 4 years

Text

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first oneshot thingy (or any piece) that I’m posting here, it’s kind of dark but I think that’s the type of fic I enjoy writing. Let me know what you all think, and any suggestions or feedback is much appreciated since this is the first time I’m using Tumblr😆

Warnings: implication of non-con, manipulation, yandere themes, kidnapping

Pairing: Yandere Dabi x f reader

Smoke curled into your hiding place, invading your senses. You could hear him smashing other various household items around the house, attempting to startle you and make a sound, effectively revealing your hiding place

Which wasn’t a very clever one, mind you.

If you only had a couple more seconds, maybe, just maybe you could’ve dove into the closet and actually hidden with some blankets and clothes covering you instead of your current chosen position, which was under the creaky bed.

You cursed yourself for even starting something so stupid, and getting a rise out of him in the first place when you knew, you knew he hated it when you picked fights over the smallest of things. All he wanted you to do was make him some breakfast, now was that so much to ask for? Did you have to put rat poison in his oatmeal at 10 am in the morning?

You didn’t think you could handle playing this happy-go-lucky fake domestic scene any further; you wanted to go home. You wanted to see your family again for Thanksgiving, you wanted to meet up with your friends and get your nails done and coo over pretty boys, and most of all you wanted to go outside and gaze up at the clear blue sky and just watch the fall colors swirl around you in a halo of leaves.

Dabi let’s you go outside twice every month if you’re being good for him, and if you really please him he’ll let you touch the grass without that stupid shock collar that adorns your neck like an ornament with with him by your side, of course. Don’t think he’ll fully trust you after that stunt you pulled last week when you tried chewing the restraints off your wrists.

He had to salute your effort though, you really might’ve gotten away if he hadn’t surrounded you by his flames before you could touch the door.

Kind of like now, actually. While you’re trembling and cramped unceremoniously under the bed, he’s finished scanning the living room and kitchen for any sign of you.

Shit

That means there’s only two places left: the bathroom and his room, where you are.

Your legs are starting to cramp up and you’re wondering how long you can manage to stay still while this psycho is hounding you out.

“If you quit acting like a pussy and come out within 30 seconds, I’ll make sure to leave your face intact. Can’t say the same about the rest of you though, babe, I’m not feeling very generous or inclined to spare you too much after choking down rat poison.” He all but snarls as you can see from underneath the bed his elbows and jaw curl with smoke, blue flames licking at his shins.

The smell of rotting flesh feels like an ominous foreshadowing of your fate if you don’t think of a way out of this, fast.

You’re pulled from your musing as Dabi slams the bathroom closet door shut, and flings the shower curtain aside violently, indicating no more places are left for him to check for you except his room.

You’re out of time.

Picking up the soap dispenser on the sink counter, he weighs it in his hand, testing it’s material. You’re peeking out from underneath the mattress, unsure of what he’s doing.

You don’t need to keep wondering after he suddenly hurls the glass down on the floor, the dispenser shattering on the floor near the bed mere inches away from where your face was.

You let out a small shriek at the explosion, and immediately still and clamp your hand over your mouth with wide eyes.

But the damage has already been done, and Dabi knows this as he lets out a dark chuckle and saunters towards the bed, turning around and plopping down on the plushy material, his boots right in front of your face.

“We both already know where this is going, little mouse. I caught you, but I’ll be nice and give you one more chance to come to me willingly.”

He leans back on his elbows and tilts his head up to the chafing ceiling. He knows you’ll come, you always eventually do, that’s why he loves you, his sweet little girl who always does what she’s told.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is you making one last break for it, clambering out from the opposite side of where you both are situated and bolting to the door.

He whips his head around at the sound of you desperately fumbling with the lock on the door, when did he lock it? God this is taking too long he’s gonna catch you he’s gonna-

But you’re already out of the door and flying down the hallway as you hear him leaping off the bed and scrambling after you, the house completely silent save for the deafening sounds of both of your own objectives pounding away at the floor in the same direction.

“You fucking bitch, I grant you one last chance to come clean to me and this is the thanks I get? You’re dead little mouse.” You hear him howl behind you, and it scares you at how close he sounds.

But now you see it, you see your freedom at the entrance just an arms length away and you’re touching the door and-

The room is suddenly enveloped by blue fire, the door handle becoming so hot under your touch that you wail as you let go and cradle your bubbling flesh, tears blurring your vision as you whirl around to locate your assailant and captor.

Dabi stands in the middle of the living room, ethereal cobalt lighting up the sides of his face and illuminating the staples that stretch and threaten to rip from the shit-eating grin he sports while looking at your defenseless demeanor.

“I told you to listen while I was playing nice, right? This is what happens to little mice who want to turn into rats so bad. Is that why you wanted to feed me rat poison, huh, baby? You were warning me to get rid of what you might turn out to be, hmm?” He pouts at you, the corners of his mouth twitching when you sob in terror

“D-dabi please,” you bawl, “please let me leave. I w- wanna go h-home.” Your chest heaves at the last word, the pain in your hand paling in comparison to the ache in your chest.

“An-and I w-want you on your kn-knees worshipping the ground I walk on and making good use of that bitchy little mouth instead of whining and sniveling.” He mocked and cooed cruelly, reveling at your helplessness.

You could do nothing but wail louder as he started slowly walking towards you, his eyes narrowed, complemented with dark glint in his pupils while his ever-lasting hellish quirk enunciated his heavy steps.

Dabi finally reached you, and you pathetically pressed yourself into the wall and turned your face as he lifted his hand and stroked your cheek in faux sympathy. His bottom lip was stuck out in a fake pout, mimicking your state of panic.

“You’re not scared of me, right baby? It’s just a game, right? I mean after all I do for you-bathe, feed, and dress you- you only feel love for me, right?”

He was toying with you, in a similar fashion a cat plays with its prey before it pounces.

When you hesitated for a moment too long, his hand by your face heated up its dying embers, warning you to give him what he wanted to hear.

You whimpered and tried to evade his hand, only resulting in his gripping the back of your head and yanking back on your hair roughly so you were forced to look up and meet his amused, dark gaze.

“Ah-ah my pretty bitch. You don’t get to move away from me after all the stunts you pulled today. I’ve had enough of your bullshit so don’t test me any more, now I asked you a question: you love me right?”

At your wits end, you maintained eye contact with him as you shakily tried to nod your head, the movement being difficult to do as he had such a death-grip on your locks.

But he wasn’t satisfied by your pathetic attempt at agreeing, it seemed like he wanted to make your life hell even further and draw this out as long as he could because he clicked his tongue and shook your head like a rag doll in his hands, hair flying across your face and giving you whiplash.

“Use that sharp tongue you got on you before I melt your fucking teeth. You might be a grade-A moron, and a pathetic one at that but I know damn well you’re not mute.” He leans in further, his nose grazing yours as you almost went cross eyed trying to keep him in vision.

“Y-yes Dabi, I love you.”

His silence seemed to scream unimpressed, so you hurried to salvage the situation as best as you could so it wouldn’t escalate the knee-deep shit you were already in.

“And I’m...sorry I was being such a brat today, I just missed everyone I used to be close with. But you were right, I should be more grateful after everything you do for me. It’s not fair that I don’t treat you with the same, uh, affection that you show me. A-and I’m sorry I put... rat poison in your food.” You whispered this last part, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

He snorted, not entirely convinced at your sincerity in the apology but it was enough for him to loosen his grip on your head and take a step back from your personal space.

You sink down the wall to your knees, curling up slightly and taking shaky breaths as you attempt to calm down. The room is still engulfed in flames, but thanks to Dabi’s foresight and extensive planning, most of the furniture of fire-proof (god knows how he got it like that, it’s not like he was the son of the number one hero or anything to accumulate such wealth) so the damage was limited save for your mental state and injured hand.

Dabi crouches down in front of you, an odd smirk on his face as you peer up at him in caution.

“You know, I didn’t say I forgive you princess, or that you’re excused for your little tantrum.”

He cocks his head at you and lifts your chin up towards him with a scarred finger. You blanch at the implication of this ordeal not being over from your excruciating apology, and his disturbing Cheshire-cat grin stretches so wide over his face, you wonder distantly if his stitches are going to pop loose any second.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything, just please don’t...please don’t burn me.” You whisper in defeat.

“Anything, you say? But why? Isn’t it more fun if I brand my name into your back? Oh wait! Maybe I’ll burn you so bad you’ll look like me! Then we’ll really be a matching couple, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I mean if you love me as much as you claim you’ll let me, right?”

He’s trapped you again. If you deny, he’ll ruthlessly berate you for lying to his face and who knows what he’ll do just for the sick, sadistic satisfaction he’ll get from making you stumble over your own lie.

If you comply, however, you’ll look like burnt bacon, just like this fucker.

“I’ll do anything to make you forgive me.” You quietly settle for.

He studies you for a moment, and the uncomfortably silence he grants you makes you shift in your place.

Dabi finally stands to his full height and stretches his arms back with a content groan.

“If that’s the case, then don’t say I didn’t let you choose how you wanted to make it up to me.”

You glance up when you hear the sound of a zipper being undone, and you mouth gapes at his innuendo. You can’t seem to look away as he frees himself from his black boxers, the sound of his belt and pants rustling as they hit the floor.

“Now then, what was that you said about redemption? I think this is a great way to put that mouth to good use, little mouse.”

#tw dubcon #dabi smut #mha x reader #yandere mha #bnha yandere #yandere #yandere dabi x reader #kidnapping #dabi #bnha oneshots #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha dabi

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Concert || Fic

Part 2 (oc) Part 2 (reader)

Content ║ Sukuna x Reader

His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

Count ║ 1,664 words.

Consider ║ Cursing. Sukuna being kind of being a dick. Female reader. Grammar issues most likely ^^”

Creator ║ So uh…. I saw a photo of Rockstar Sukuna and this happened. Enjoy my self indulgence. Also… Song for Reference.

Ryoumen Sukuna positioned himself on stage. The sea of people were glued to every motion he made. You were one of those people in the front. Dead center. Your editor paid a lot of money for that spot, too, but you still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, you needed a big story to get out of that damn plateau but this was not what you had in mind. You focused on fashion, not punk boys with eyeliner.

His face turned to the stage, knees rocking his body to the beginning of a simple, yet effective beat. Broad, muscled shoulder curled forward, securing his zone. But then the guitar came in. A near feral grin ricocheted onto his features as it did. In an explosive leap, his feet left the ground only for the scuffed Doc Martens to slam into the stage at the second beat. Right hand whipped the mic’s wire out of his way, left arm jostled as he started to sing.

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck

Docs crashed with every step, their synchronicity with the band behind. One hand kept on the mic, the other whipped its wire out of his way. It wasn’t that he was energetic, no. He was captivating, calculated in every step, yet casual. His control over his body and the crowd… immaculate. It was a precarious balancing act that he pulled off with little to no effort at all. Steps were to the beat, his entire torso being thrown into the movements.

He wore a white tank top with a breast pocket. The branding of it was recognizable simply by the pristine floral embroidery along the bottom and hems. It hung past the hem of black leather pants. A custom-made silver necklace beat against his chest with each toss of his built physique. You snapped a photo.

His prowess was obvious, even for someone like yourself who knew not a single lick of rock culture. Even with the vulgar and energetic lyrics, the whirling stop-start slow-fast tempo, Sukuna perfected the music as though he were at one with it. Embodied and embraced it. The sharp smile he threw to the collage of faces before him was the only thing you needed to know that he was in his element.

The song was strong, heady even. It buzzed throughout your mind and swung at your heart like a right hook. Each punch of the drums was exhilarating. Every kick of the bass left you wanting more. As alive as Sukuna was on stage, you were there feeling it with him.

The concert went on, moving through each piece like a surging smooth river. It was hard to tell when one song began and the other ended. Whenever you could, you’d snap a photo. There were some good shots in there. Some of his imposing form dangling at the edge of the stage, arms wide out displaying his designer bracelets. Others when he’d toss his entire spine back. The best, though, were when he’d come face to face with the guitarist, his brother, in a beck and call. In their wardrobe, they were a delicate balance of blacks, whites, and coral.

A certain thrill came about you as you realized the wardrobe of each member reflected their position. They weren’t to outshine him, but they all had a theme. Everything must have been custom ordered and hand tailored. Their entire image was just as important to the show as music. Every photo was set up to illustrated the complementing lights and darks they had set up on stage, a living and breathing portrait of youth.

You couldn’t help but notice how every time you’d point the camera at him, he’d lock those brilliant eyes onto yours. He recognized you before. How could he not? Out of everyone in the front row, you were the only one wearing some preppy knit dress. He never would have expected to see a face like yours in his crowd. Some rising reporter with a side blog. He never cared about press, but you’ve been making a name for yourself due to your precise analysis of social culture and clothes. He actually thought your last article on street fashion was interesting and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gawk at your Instagram after. All in all, he kept his glances for your camera instead.

The stage lighting shifted, illuminating the beads of sweat sparkling along his tatted skin like diamonds. The unnatural redness in his eyes blew an intense gaze across the still crowd. They came to a complete stop. Unease settled into your stomach. This was your cue to go. You knew what would happen next and you weren’t ready for when it did.

His foot tapped. The guitar started. A mosh pit rioted.

It was a concert tradition according to the fan page you looked at moments before walking through the door. ‘If you don’t leave with a black eye, did you even go to a Two Faced concert?’ they’d ask.

Your frame was shoved against the rail, knocking the wind out of you. Bodies collided behind and you felt trapped. Your lungs squeezed and your hands scrambled for your bag. Inhaler. Inhaler. Tightness inflamed your chest as a particularly bulky man squeezed you into the rail. Your hands clasped to inhaler, but before you could press it to your lips, another body collided into you. It clattered a few feet over the rail, hitting the stage. Fuck.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw it happen. Panic painted across your face as you hauled your torso over the rail. Your arm reached for what was dropped before it immediately covered a coughing fit. What idiot would come to his concert an, his domain, and expect to just come out unscathed? It was your own damn fault if you got the wind knocked out of you, but he had to give you credit for trying. Just as he was about to look away, someone grabbed the back collar of your dress.

Sukuna wasn’t one of those artists who genuinely cared about their fanbase or paparazzi. That was for the other members to do. It was well known, too. He didn’t indulge in pictures if he didn’t want to or wasn’t on stage. He didn’t sign anything without a check. No one knew music like he did. No one performed like he did. No one mattered like he did. Whatever it was that overtook him then, he wasn’t sure, but he dropped the mic. A sharp blare washed over the P.E. system. All eyes turned to him. Bandmates faltered for only a moment.

Two steps back. Sprint. The tips of his shoes left the edge of the stage. Ryoumen Sukuna took flight. Arm reached for him, stopping his prized body from colliding with the harsh concrete below. The hand on you left, desperate to make contact with The King of Curses. The band went on, the crowd’s scream piercing the air as they swayed the singers body this way and that. You clambered over to grab the inhaler, took a hit, and dove for an exit.

That’s how you found yourself where you were now, in a backstage hallway, staring directly into the fierce gaze of the lead singer. He smelled of sweat and cedar. A brow rose, hands stuffed into unimaginably tight pockets. Confidence wasn’t lost through Sukuna’s stature; shoulders back, weight slightly on one leg more than the other. What was lost, however, was the excitement. In fact, you felt like studied specimen, eyes scanning your limbs and stopping on your ribs. The bruise forming under your dress seemed to flare in response. His tongue clicked disapprovingly.

“What do you want? You’re not some rabid fan.” His voice was smooth as a sip of whiskey. He already knew the answer. For a moment you wondered why he didn’t just call for guards. He wondered the same thing. Just as he wondered why he leapt off the stage. Not that he regretted the act seeing as it got him trending for the umpteenth time.

Sukuna had become accustomed to certain responses. Some offered him their bodies in exchange for a few moments of his time. Shit like that was beneath him. If he wanted a quick fuck and a column, he’d find it himself. His free time was his and that was non-negotiable. So, he almost always cut them down to size. It didn’t matter to him if he made them cry or threatened their careers, he’d always say no. Pictures? No. Signature? No. Coffee? Get the fuck out of his face. Attention and fame may have been his drug of choice, but desperation and disrespect were one in the same and you do not disrespect the King.

“No. I didn’t even know who you were until 12 hours ago,” you admitted with a shallow breath. You stroked his ego like velvet rubbed the wrong way. He opened his mouth, ready to toss you out then and there. The look in your eyes was enough to shut him up. Hunger. And he was your dish of opportunity. “However, I do want an interview, maybe even film you for an expose,” Your hand reached for his.

His mouth pulled into a beautiful predatory grin. This one had ambition.

“I’ll allow it.”

#this is just me being indulgent #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🍺.fic #🍺.jjk #⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Oh raven won’t you sing me a happy song

So, if you haven’t noticed, this is an older fic. I’ve improved since this point, and I’m also taking time to edit my work, so there is a descrepency. I hope those who read this can find enjoyment in it anyway though! And I hope my editting saves it from being total garbage

Warning: here

previous part: here

cw: dubcon, weaker writing, Gogol being a sadist, I think that’s all!

After your first run in with the man, you learned his name was Gogol, Nikolai Gogol, and even though he was very fucked up personally, keeping you in a cage was something of a dead give away for that, he did at least have a nice side. Aside from being pervy and really wanting to touch you when he came to deliver food or take trays, he was respectful enough to not hurt you. He'd grab your hand, kiss you on the wrist or lips, really anything he could to give you small affections, but rarely anything severe. It was a mixture of charming and creepy. You couldn't really figure out exactly what his intentions were.

For a while, you did try to avoid him, scrambling from side to side in the cage to try and avoid his touches, but after a few days you gave in. You'd let him pet your (h/l), (h/c) hair, or kiss the backs of your hand, being an obedient little bird in hopes of earning freedoms.

When he realized you were growing more obedient, his orders grew bit by bit. Allowing him to simply touch you turned into you now initiating contact, you assumed that was because of some level of touch starvation, small kisses turned into letting him leave hickeys on your neck. It was on the creepier side of things, but you were determined to get at least a little bit of freedom so you could try to escape, so, you indulged him, grabbing his hand, or playing with his hair for a moment when he came down to your basement, and slowly, you began to enjoy him coming around.

Being locked in a massive suspended bird cage in a windowless basement wasn't the best setting for a social life, so to avoid going insane from loneliness, you didn't shame yourself for the flutter of joy you'd get when the tall man would come visit. Luckily for you, he came around for more than simply feeding and watering you, he'd sometimes come down and just sit with you, talking about nothing in particular, showing you magic tricks, small things like that. You weren't quite attracted to him outside of looks, but you didn't exactly push yourself to find some similarities to relate to or anything, you just needed physical contact for your sanity, you didn't want to so easily be that girl who falls for a violent kidnapper. However, you also fought against the shame you felt for even finding him attractive at all. After all, if you were going to be stuck in a cage in a basement for however long you were gonna be there you couldn't afford to guilt yourself over such fickle things as physical attraction.

Allowing yourself that freedom from guilt helped you to cope without going absolutely bat shit. It wasn't the best situation, you still had plenty of days where you tore at the fabric that formed your cage's cushion, kicked at the bars and threw one hell of a tantrum, but at least you were doing the best you could be expected to. Right? It was on one of your bad days, one of the days where you yowled curses at Gogol and try to tear up your cage like a rabid dog that you heard it. Once you were tuckered out, reduced to a puddle of sobbing screams of despair clutching your blanket and biting at the cushion of your flooring you heard him, or more, his laughter. When you looked up, into the darkness of the basement where your dim lantern couldn't reach, you could just make out Gogol's silhouette, only sure it was him due to the dim glow of his mismatched eyes. At least, it looked like they glowed, it could've been the light reflecting just right to give that effect. "Awww, little Golubka, why so upset?" he asked, a sickeningly cheerful lilt in his thickly accented voice "I thought we were past these fits. Although, I do admittedly find them to be very entertaining~" he sang, getting up from the bed across from you and meandering over to the cage, his grin evilly charming.

When he was right in front of you, he reached out and tried to touch you, not being able to quite make contact, and while you didn't want him to touch you, you also didn't want to piss him off when he seemed to have some sort of teleportation ability, so you moved closer and let him grab your hand. "How about this, my little dove, I'll make you a deal. All you have to do is give me a blowjob." he said, giving your hand a firm squeeze when you tried to yank away. Your cheeks were crimson, your stomach churning with anxiety and embarrassment...and lust, but Gogol didn't let you go, "Come now, Golubka, a blowjob is not too hard to ask in exchange for a nice little walk outside, right?" he soothed, and after a moment you nodded. He gave you a charming smile and yanked you forward, making you squeak and close your eyes. When you opened them again you were outside of your bird cage, being held by your captor. He happily brought you over to the king-sized bed and plopped down on it, keeping you in his lap for a moment before beginning to nudge you back until you took the hint and got between his legs like he wanted. You didn't want to ponder how he got a boner seemingly so fast, so you simply focused on pulling his striped pants down to free his erection. You weren't super shocked to see that he was a healthy size for his height, not unreasonable, but not quite average either, you were surprised though at how quickly your lust grew. Though you were also thankful for that, it made the task easier on your mental health ever so slightly. The way he hummed when your fingers brushed his length made you think he wouldn't take too much to get off, which made you feel a bit better about the situation. It wouldn't last too long. So, you gave him a lick from base to tip than pumped him with your hand until the clown tangled his gloved hand in your (h/l), (h/c) hair and pulled you forward with a groan. So, you smartly decided to skip the foreplay, just slipping him past your lips and going as far down as you could before needing to pull back. You started off slow, needing to work up you courage before bobbing your head faster or anything, though you did try to be considerate and used your hand to stroke what you couldn't reach. Your actions earned a few moans from the white haired Russian, the noises sending little bolts of pleasure to your own nether regions while his hand gripping your hair tighter and pushing you down more when he got impatient with your pace. At least, not long after that he did orgasm, forcing you to choke on his member as he did, humming with satisfaction and grinning when a few tears slipped out of your (e/c) eyes. Finally, he let your hair go and let you sit up properly to cough and breath. While you caught your breath and gagged on the salty taste of his cum, Gogol got up and pulled his pants back up before heading upstairs and heading into what you assumed was the rest of the house. He left the door open, and was gone for a long moment, so you felt a spark of hope flutter to life in your chest. You were shaky, but you got up from the cold concrete floor and scrambled and stumbled for the door. Your heart beat like a jackhammer and your nerves felt like they were burning with energy as you tripped over yourself on the stairs and got to the door, stumbling into some sort of pantry that led to the kitchen. With the new scent of anything but stale basement air, you were flooded with adrenaline that made your muscles shudder, urging you to bolt like a scared rabbit, but you forced yourself to creep forward and peek out. The kitchen was empty, no Gogol in sight, and, your luck was good, a backdoor was in reach. So, you dashed for it, too excited and panicked to care about the noise or anything else, trying to unlock it with unsteady hands and than tearing it open.

However, before you could run out into the cold, crisp night air that had just hit you in the face like a schoolyard bully, without a sound of a single footstep to warn you, you felt a strong arm wrap around your midsection and hoist you up until your feet no longer touched the tile floor. You kicked and shrieked of course, but from what you could see, the house was at least in the countryside, so your pleas for help were unheard by anyone but the distant cows or deer. "What a naughty, naughty Golubka! I was already going to take you outside, you should've known better than to try and go out alone!" Gogol chided, sounding sickeningly amused by your attempt. You hated that, hated that in this moment of near freedom after such an embarrassing low point, you were snatched back into the darkness, and he had the balls to be happy. As if the small crumb of escape wasn't insult enough, you wouldn't even get the pleasure of pissing Gogol off. Instead, as you thrashed and yowled, fighting for all your worth to get free before he could shut the door and lock you away again, the clown was giggling. He giggled and relished the struggle you put up as he carried you back through the pantry, tore your hands from the door frame when you tried to latch onto that, getting a few more gulps of non-basement air before being brought back into your cement prison and teleported back into your cage. Of course you threw one hell of a fit, throwing pillows and blankets at the bars, shrieking insults at the twisted grin of your captor, but he simply waited for you to exhaust yourself before speaking again, his voice a calm, almost playful scolding, "Now look what you've gotten yourself. Instead of a nice walk with me, you must now stay in the cage. Maybe next time either think twice before bolting, or be quicker." he said, and you kicked the cages side again, making him full out laugh before vanishing again. The last thing you saw before returning to the dimly lit darkness, was that slice of light being slowly, tauntingly thinned until the basement door clicked shut once more.

#yandere gogol #bsd #bungo stray dogs #nikolai gogol x reader #fanfiction #quotev #not sfw #sing sweet nightingale

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nootgi · 3 years

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Hello it's me haha ehm, do you do imagines? I wanna request for Albedo; if it's ok, just a small fic of Klee catching her big brother kissing his S/O and Albebe is stumbling in his words trying to reason with Klee 😂 if it's ok-- *scurries awayy*

A little help please? - Albedo

A/N:// SORRY FOR THE WAIT, it was taking longer than expected to do other requests but, here ya go ^-^ one embarrassed and mortified Albedo comin your way

You couldn’t breathe.

It was impossible, every intake seemed to be cut off with a harsh exhale. Your lungs began to burn, sides started to ache and tears rolled down your face. Albedo watched in dismay as you keeled over, laughing your ass off at him. He couldn’t believe you still had it in you to laugh for 20 MINUTES after what happened. Every moment you feel as though you calmed down you look at his flushed cheeks and it sends you back down into a flurry of giggles.

What happened 20 minutes earlier? Well it begins with Albedo sneaking into the library during his lunch break to visit you. He catches you off guard as he presses you between the bookshelf and his sturdy chest. He had you pinned between his two arms. The book you were holding falls out of your hand, landing on the floor with a thud but you two don’t pay any attention to it. Both of you are looking into each other’s eyes, one hand came down to intertwine his fingers in yours.

“What brings Mr Alchemist here?” You whisper, bringing up his hand to kiss it softly.

“I missed seeing my precious dove.” The press of your lips against his hand bought that colour you loved seeing on his cheeks but that didn’t stop Albedo and that smoulder of his. It did turn your gears how easily he slipped into his flirt mode, how his body seemed more imposing with his relaxed posture. The small quirk of his lip brings it up into a barely visible smirk, only noticeable with how close he drew his face to yours.

“Ah did you now? It didn’t seem like you did the way you left today.” You smile, playing along with his mood, leaning up to bump your foreheads together. Today morning when you awoke, Albedo was already leaving out of the door mumbling something to himself. He took his portion of breakfast along with your morning kiss.

“Forgive me dove.” His eyes slightly darkened at your words, as if taking offence to your doubt, you were his world and stars and he wouldn’t let you doubt that even as a joke. You raise your eyebrows at his change in mood, about to question what he is doing when the hand that was holding yours so delicately, came up to hold the back of your hair in a firm grip. The kiss started out soft, his lips parted to draw your tongue in and dance along with his. Gradually the passion increased, causing you to lose yourself in the kiss. You felt your balance leaving you so you wrapped your arms around his neck, his arm that rested on the bookshelf moved to band around your waist. You let out a whine when Albedo pulled back to move his head down your neck and move his wet lips to drag lightly over your collarbone.

“You see dove I had something,” between each word was a swipe of his tongue against your most sensitive spot, every puff of his hot breath sent tingles down your spine and goosebumps to flourish everywhere, “To attend to for-”

“ALBEDO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO (Y/N)!?”

“KLEE!?”

Klee had escaped from solitary confinement with the secret help of Kaeya! She had a secret mission of infiltrating the library to recover her story book that Lisa confiscated from her. It was very important that she got it back, it had all her survival tips and treasure maps! She made sure that Miss Lisa was gone to lunch with Miss Jean before sneaking into the library, the knights that stood guard turned a blind eye to the small girl since they knew she had no explosives. Upon entering she heard a small thud, her active imagination put her on high alert so she ran over to see what was wrong. As she was about to rush over, she remembered that Kaeya said stealth was key in these types of situations. It took Klee a while and a few bumps to quietly sneak down the stairs and cross the squeaky floorboards in the library. When she turned the corner she wasn’t expecting to see big brother Albedo and (Y/N). The two of you instantly separated, you turning away from Klee to recompose yourself. Redoing the buttons that got undone in that rush and fixing your hair as Albedo was silent. Klee stared Albedo down with her arms crossed and an unusual angry look, Albedo just stared back. It was like that for a few seconds before you cleared your throat and turned back around, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of you.

“Albedo what were you doing to them!?” She stomped her little legs over to take your hand and drag you away from Albedo. Putting herself between the two of you as to protect you from him and his mouth. Albedo’s eyes, comically wide, glance to yours to plead for help but you just shrug with a face splitting smile.

“Y-you’re misunderstanding Klee.” The confident Albedo you knew a few minutes ago was gone and in his place was his blubbering embarrassed self. It wasn’t often you saw this side with Albedo so you savoured every second of it. You knew you could help but why waste such a good opportunity.

“You always told me seeing is believing! I should trust what I saw and not your words!” You swear you were gonna have jaws of steel with how hard you're clenching them right now.

“Well- uh you see Klee, me and (Y/N) were…” Albedo never thought his science tips would bite him in the ass this hard. “Kissing.” Honesty is the best policy?

“I saw kisses in my story books! That was not kissing!!” Right, Albedo forgot Klee had some picture story books about love stories and all kinds of fluff. You could see the blood draining from Albedo’s face as his hands flapped about trying to make up an excuse. And honestly…

“When two people love each other…” It became harder to listen to.

“Big brother Albedo deserves to be in solitary confinement! Klee goes there when she hurts people so Albedo goes there too.” She reaches her final verdict, her hat bouncing as she does a satisfied nod. By this moment, Albedo’s puffy hair is flattened from how many times he nervously ran his fingers through it and you were holding onto a bookshelf for support to hold in your laughter.

“How will you be getting Albedo in there Klee?” You ask after composing yourself a little with some deep breaths, ignoring Albedo’s betrayed look.

“Miss Jean will after I tell her!” Albedo has never been more at loss in his life, he was so used to being able to find an answer to everything or at least be on the right path. But with this, where was he to go. Every route was a dead end and his precious dove, his lifeline, left him stranded. Well there was one thing he could do.

“A little help ple-” His voice cracked. As did the dam holding back your laughter.

You sent Klee off, reassuring her that you were okay and could punish Albedo yourself. The two of you stood in by the table, listening to her grab her book and leave the library before turning to each other. Albedo looked worse than he did after a long night in the lab, hair messy, eyes bloodshot and dry from how wide and unblinking they were moments before. He made sure to clear his throat before speaking to you however when he caught your eye, you were back into your fit of giggles.

All he wanted was to get his missing morning kiss and instead got a lifetime of embarrassment and a suspicious pat on the back from Kaeya.

#genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #fluff #nootieml #nootieasks #gn!reader

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