#also learned FINALLY how to make borders around brushes

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital comic in two panels featuring bungou stray dogs characters. the first shows atsushi banging open a door and shouting, dazai-san! are you oka- the second shows a shot from the anime where chuuya is holding dazai against a wall by his neck. the text reads, homoerotic atmosphere, and four squares with text point out whats happening. they read, casual hand in pocket, chokehold, knife, and lastly um... followed by two sweat drops pointing at chuuya's knee between dazai's legs. a tiny panel in the corner shows atsushi covering his eyes with his tiger paws and blushing as he says, i'm sorry... end ID]

come here. crack open the canon with me for a minute. consider. what if atsushi hadn't listened to everyone telling him dazai would be fine and left to save him only to witness whatever the fuck was going on in that cellar. consider the bit.

[koinotame]

if i was your husband

word count: 1.4K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, some nonsexual touching of dubious consent, otherwise just 1400 words of yandere-typical obsession

characters included: childe

a/n: this is a repost (heavily edited in some parts, lightly edited in others)! and a sequel to this. you can read this as a standalone modern au oneshot, but it'll probably make more sense with the context of the previous one. also on ao3! next part here

"you know," you say after a while of quiet between the two of you, staring vacantly at the tv playing some seasonal movie and leaning further into the couch. "my friends were saying you’d make a good husband."

out of the corner of your eye, you see him still.

"…really?"

something about the way he says it makes your stomach queasy.

you hum halfheartedly, still trying to pretend you’re more invested in the movie than the current conversation.

"what do you think, then?"

that gets you to turn to him. "huh?"

he’s looking directly at you, face propped up on his fist. the way his eyes, deep and all consuming, bore into yours makes you feel like you’re a sailor about to give in to the enthralling call of the ocean. "how do you think I’d do as your husband?"

"well…" you pause for a bit, eyes flicking back to the movie and staying there for a bit. he doesn’t move, staring directly at your face. your eyes inch to the opposite corner of the scren, a bit further away from him.

a few minutes pass by before you say anything again. "I mean, your cooking is great. and you like cleaning, and—" you start counting off other husbandly traits he has on your fingers. your hands are almost full by the time you’re done, which is also when you finally turn back to him. "so. yeah, I think you’d make for a good husband."

his stare is starting to get kind of unnerving.

you smile awkwardly, trying to ease the tense air. "…maybe that makes you more of a house husband, though?"

he doesn’t respond to your jest.

"you think so?"

instead, he sounds strikingly serious. he usually sounds light and lively, so his current inflection sounds eerie.

you don’t have time to think about it any more before he’s draping himself over you, his arms leaning onto the couch behind you and torso just barely not touching you. his eyes search your face for something, not missing the jolt at his sudden movement.

after an intense couple seconds of observing you, his face turns up into a wide, almost overexcited smile.

his head drops into the crook of your shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around your waist and pressing you even further into the couch. you hear him inhale loudly, then let out a content sigh as he presses his face further against you. he doesn’t mind the way you stiffen at the sudden sensation, or the way your arms remain rigidly at your sides.

"…what are you doing?"

"if I was your husband," he ignores your question, not moving. "I’d be the happiest man alive. no, forget that—I’d be the happiest person alive."

your mouth feels dry when he presses a light kiss against the exposed skin on your throat.

"I’d cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for you every day. I’d learn all your favourites and I’d pack you lunch every day." he takes another deep whiff. you’re sure you’re not imagining it this time. "I could pack you those cute themed lunch boxes, too. I’d get up early every morning to make sure I can finish everything in time."

his eyes open, his lashes brushing tenderly against your skin. "I’d wake you every day, and I’d hold you as we fall asleep every night. I’d take care of everything so you can always take it easy, and I’d make sure you’re always comfortable."

his breath is hot against your skin. "I’d make sure to tell you that I love you every day. the house would always be ready for your return, the sheets always fresh and your clothing always ironed."

he moves down, pressing his face against where your heart is. his ear lays flat against your chest. the look on his face is hard to describe, bordering on hypnotised. "I’d make sure you’re always happy. I’d take care of all the rent, and the utility bills, and food, and whatever else needs to be paid."

his eyes appear glazed over. "you could spend your days lounging around, doing nothing while I take care of you and pamper you. I could buy you whatever you want, whenever you want, for whatever reason you want. I’d do anything for you. nothing is off the table for you."

his grip tightens, pressing you further into him, as if he doesn’t want there to be an end to him and a beginning to you between the two of you.

"I’d make sure nobody could hurt you, of course. anyone who tries will sorely regret it." he says the words as if they come so naturally to him as his voice gets just a little bit more frantic. "I’ll take care of any and all of your problems. no matter what."

"if I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t have the right to call myself your husband." he smiles up at you, tone suddenly cheerful. if it wasn’t for his previous words, his smile would seem innocently excited.

for all the months you’ve been living with ajax, you’ve never felt particularly threatened by him. he’s never made you think the rumours about him are true, never given you any reason to be scared or angry with him. he’s weird, and kind of pushy sometimes, and you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking of, but he’s never been scary.

you’re not sure you agree with that anymore.

with bated breath, you watch as he takes one of your stiff hands gently into his own and presses it against his cheek. it feels uncomfortably warm against your skin.

"I’d be the best husband you could have. you’d always be happy with me, I promise. I swear it on my life. I’ll never let you down."

his expression remains equally love-struck and intense no matter what he says, like he’s barely managing to contain his devotion, but there’s a hint of desperation behind them the more he goes on.

"if I was your husband…"

he pauses, dark pools of blue staring into your eyes intensely.

"your grace," he suddenly drops to his knees in front of you, keeping his hold on your hand but moving to hold it in front of him gingerly. "would you marry me?"

he doesn’t give you time to answer, instead pressing his face against your knee. his gaze doesn’t waver. "I know I’m getting ahead of myself, that I could never deserve you, that we’re still so young, but… now that I’ve had a taste of being around the real you, I’m not sure I could ever let that feeling go."

his eyelids close and he lays his head on your lap. "I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost your favour. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I drove you away."

the movie is still playing in the background. your fingers feel cold.

"but I can’t help myself." his eyes open again and stare at you again, deeper than any lake could ever be. "I love you."

he presses himself further against you, arms wrapping around your calves delicately.

"I love all of you. I love you when you’re happy and I love you when you’re sad. I love every single part of you." he starts rubbing his cheek against your legs. "whenever you come back home tired or downcast, I want to go out and destroy whatever is causing you grief. I’d overthrow the entire world for you if it’d please you."

the way he talks about you as if you’re some sort of divine being is makes your head spin.

"actually…" the flush on his cheeks accentuates, the warmth of his face tangible even against your clothed leg. "wouldn’t that be nice? you could be the divine ruler and I’d be your personal knight, the strongest and most loyal in the entire world…"

the tone in his voice is overeager, though his words remind you more of a fairy tale story disconnected from reality than like something he really means. "it wouldn’t even be hard, nobody here has visions and no matter what they say, anyone with one has an innate advantage over those who don’t. and should that fail, I’ll always have…" the rest is mumbled against your legs and unintelligible.

after a couple more seconds, he sighs, almost wistfully. "but this world has those pesky nuclear weapons instead, so I’ll settle for being your husband instead."

one of his hands reaches out and intertwines with yours again. he squeezes it tenderly.

"I love you."

his eyes bore into yours even as he presses a reverent kiss to the back of your hand.

"if you find me suitable…" the expression on his face can only be described as lovesick. "please marry me."

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[turnupswritessometimes]

Butterflies - Ch 8 (Finale) - Lies of P/Alice Madness

Relationship: P/Alice Liddell

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898544/chapters/137944243

Previous | First

Summary: “But why go looking for other realities, when there’s no guarantee you’ll pass through to them?” “Because it’s an experiment, and I jolly well won’t learn anything more about all this unless I try,” Alice replied.

Having figured out how to slip in and out of Wonderland entirely, Alice Liddell sets off on a journey to find more realities around her own. When she follows a blue butterfly to Hotel Krat, she meets P. The more time they spend together, the more they feel as though there’s someone else out there, just like them.

Chapter Eight: In Which Alice Returns to Krat Once More

Alice was alone.

Once more, she stood on an unfamiliar beach; it really was becoming a habit. Only this time, she was returning to the real world. Reality. It was brighter than Krat had been. The sky was a deep blue, and a soft afternoon sun shone down, warming her back.

There were buildings on this island. The island on this side of reality was built into a village, with a great bridge linking it to the mainland. The border between Italy and France, Alice assumed.

The bridge would certainly easier than coming by submarine, a dim part of Alice thought.

Then the truth of the situation hit her, as thoroughly as a thump in the chest. She was no longer in Krat. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to get back to Krat. Back to P.

P was gone. He was a whole world away. She could still feel the press of his hands on her own; the cold metal of his legion hand. Her heart still raced. Still pounded. As she’d felt herself begin to slip away, she had realised it; she wanted to kiss him. Even if it was just the once, before she slipped away.

But they hadn't managed it. She hadn't kissed P, in the end.

Would she ever see him again?

Yes, she thought, balling her hands into fists. Yes, she would. She would find a way back to Krat. They would meet again. Alice would make sure of it. Still, she did not have an immediate plan. She was in a strange place, and the couple who passed her spoke in Italian. Everyone was speaking Italian, she realised. The only Italian she knew was from the opera, and even then, she didn't know what it meant. It would be no help, here.

They were noticing her. Noticing the strange girl, stood alone, who was nearly crying. Alice took a breath, and brushed the hair from her face. There was nothing for it. She started to head back across the bridge, to the mainland. She needed a plan. Getting to the docks was as good as any. Hopefully Captain Nemo's ship would be there.

It was always strange, to go back to reality. There were no puppets. No monsters. No blue butterflies. Alice felt more alone than ever.

She drifted, and worried about P. He had lost his father, now he had lost her. He was facing the head of the alchemists, alone, and who knew what else. He would be searching for Sophia.

Alice couldn't find Sophia here, and she also couldn't get back without her.

She wandered through unfamiliar streets. The shops were beautiful. They stocked an array of bizarre and beautiful items, and the food from the restaurants smelt wonderful. Her stomach growled. But she didn't have any money. A few pennies in her apron pocket, but those were English pennies; no good here.

She attracted stares. She kept her head down, and kept walking. But by the time she reached the docks, in the late afternoon, she had to stop. She was exhausted, hungry and tired. Worst of all, her chest still hurt from being separated from Krat. Not just P, but all of the inhabitants of the hotel.

Alice sat on a crate, and buried her face in her palms. She didn’t even know how she was going to get back to London.

"Alice!"

She looked up so suddenly her neck cricked. And then stared. Pushing his way through the crowd toward her was a familiar face. She knew that curly hair and those bright eyes.

Peter.

Alice blinked.

Peter ran forward, grinning. "Gee, am I glad to see you!"

Alice tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. She stayed sat, as Peter came to a stop just before her.

"The Captain was sure you were dead, but I knew you weren't! I knew you'd slipped off somewhere to have an adventure! And you did, didn't you?" Peter paused. He peered at her, closely. "Alice?"

"I did slip away," Alice said. It hurt to speak. "I went...somewhere else."

"What's wrong?" Peter knelt down, so she had to meet his eyes. The sun caught the freckles across his nose. "Was it awful?"

Alice shook her head. Then she stopped, and shrugged.

"I suppose most people would think it awful," she said. "It was. But it was beautiful too."

"Sounds like your Wonderland."

Alice raised her eyebrow. "And like your Neverland?"

Peter nodded. For a moment, he looked different; wild. He said there were wild beasts in Neverland, that fairies were not all as good as the stories, and that pirates were not to be trifled with.

"Sure." Peter stood and held out a hand to Alice. "Come on. Tell me all about it back on the ship."

"You're not setting sail again, are you?"

"Not for another week, no."

So she took Peter's hand, and let herself be led back to the ship. What else could she do?

*

Alice ate a hot meal, at least; a stew aboard the ship. She missed her room at hotel Krat. Missed the warm bath and the big bed and thought it was strange she'd gotten used to it all so quickly.

Strange, perhaps, that she was so attached to P, after only knowing him a couple of days. It felt like much longer.

She told Peter about Krat. He was immensely interested about the puppets. Already, it seemed just as distant as Wonderland. He convinced her to sit on the deck with the crew that evening, and she did. They all thought her a miracle – thought she'd died. But she stayed on the edge of things, and looked over the harbour. There were lights on, in the town. The town full of people. So different from Krat.

P would love this. Would love to see all this life.

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

And she couldn’t stop searching for a blue butterfly in the darkness.

The night passed. So did the day. She didn't find her way back to Krat. Her skin itched with it. Her mind whirled with the effort of trying to slip realities. She only managed to make Wonderland overlap with the little Italian town. It had become full of marble statues and wolf-like creatures. Wonderful.

But not Krat.

She stayed, a while, before falling back into reality.

And then it happened. Alice woke in the middle of the night, and felt a pull, in her stomach, like an anchor being pulled in. She slipped out of her bed, and padded through the ship. It was a familiar pull. The wood felt like it was far away.

Alice reached the deck. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the pull of her anchor. It was easier, in the night. Everything felt more surreal; magical.

Then she opened her eyes. And saw a trail of blue dust, in the air. She stepped forward. Then it appeared, all at once.

A blue butterfly.

Alice rushed forward. She didn't care she was only in her nightgown, or barefoot, she was going to follow that butterfly.

It went down the plank of the ship, down to the cobblestone street.

Alice followed.

The butterfly hovered.

And Alice reached forward to touch it.

In the next instant, she was somewhere else. Somewhere she knew. This was the streets of Krat. Dawn was just starting to break on the horizon. She stood at the docks, staring at the now familiar, empty houses. Puppet parts still littered the streets.

She was back. And the butterfly meant Sophia must be safe.

Alice was more sensible than to start shouting out. That would attract attention, and attention was dangerous.

Especially because she could hear footsteps. Distant footsteps, but footsteps all the same. It could be a puppet, or a monster, or something else entirely. She pressed herself against the closest building, taking a breath. The footsteps came closer. Towards her.

She slipped her vorpal blade from her waistband; it had appeared with her, and gripped it tightly.

"I don't know what you're expecting, pal." A voice came, from down the street. A familiar voice. "There's never any boats at the harbour."

There was a pause. More footsteps. Then, "You don’t know that. You can only remember as much as me."

She knew that voice too. Both of those voices. Alice's heart leapt into her throat. She almost dropped the knife. She fumbled to slide it back into place, as she stepped away from the wall, turning into the street.

There he was. Striding over the cobblestones. But when he took her in, he stopped.

Alice did too. It was P. She recognised his gait; his legion arm; his face, with its constellations of freckles and bright blue eyes. And yet, his hair was different. It shone like starlight – white, and flowing down to his shoulders. It caught in the light wind.

"P." Alice stayed still, for a moment longer, before she started forward. Her shoes slipped on the stones.

He didn't step towards her, but he did open his arms. Did smile that soft smile as she came forward.

She slammed into him, her arms looping around his neck. She held him tightly, and he held her back. His palms pressed into her back. One was very warm, the other cold.

"Alice," he murmured into her hair. He practically lifted her from her ground; she balanced on her tiptoes. "You're back."

"I promised." Her face was pressed against his greatcoat. He still smelt of oil, but mostly of the sea. They stayed close, for another long moment. Alice took a deep breath, and she felt P do the same. Her heart fluttered, like those blue butterflies.

Then she managed to pull away. Just a couple of inches, so she could see P's face, framed with silver hair. She brushed it back, behind his ear.

"What happened?"

P's eyes were soft. He closed his eyes, for a moment, his lashes twitching; they were still dark. "A lot."

"Your hair." Her fingers still lingered at the ends of it.

"It happened when Sophia..." P paused. "When I freed Sophia."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked, feeling a surge of panic.

"And then, I changed again, when my father..." Again, P stopped himself, his breath hitching. "When Geppetto was killed."

"I'm so sorry." Alice smoothed P's greatcoat, still pressed against him. She didn't think she could pull away, not now; she couldn’t bring herself to.

P shook his head, just slightly. "He only wanted my heart. He wanted Carlo. Not me."

So he had been right, then, about his assumptions. That he was only a copy. And whatever had happened, Geppetto had only wanted to take P’s heart to use again. Alice's own heart ached for him. She opened her mouth to say she was sorry, all over again, but P caught her hand. He brought it down, to his chest, pressing her palm there.

There was a beat. Not the beat of his p-organ. This was different. This was the beat of a heart.

P watched her. Waited.

Alice looked up, and examined him more closely. She noticed the changes.

"You've changed," she repeated. She knew what the difference was, but she wanted him to say it.

"I can cry, now. I cried when Geppetto died," P said. " I cried, when I became human."

"You're human." She looked at her hand, over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His real heart.

P was a real boy.

Alice couldn't help smiling. Grinning. P was human. She took his face in her hands; his skin was soft, and warm, and undeniably human. He wasn’t the solid, steady puppet that he was.

P nodded. Still the same nod as before. And his eyes were still the same too; gentle and that too-blue of the ocean after a storm. His white hair made them seem even more vivid.

P's hands moved, from her waist, to take her cheeks. His hands were warm, and soft – human.

"May I?" he asked.

His eyes were on her mouth. He was asking to kiss her. And her lips were already parted, her heart racing, at the thought. It wasn’t a thought she’d ever entertained before, but now it seemed – right. She nodded, sliding her hands over his.

And yet, despite that fact that she was smiling up at him, pressing his hands to her face, he still hesitated a moment. He tilted his head forward, and examined her again, before he closed the gap between them. Very slowly.

P kissed Alice.

She had to balance on her tip toes, her eyes fluttering closed. This was a kiss. Her first kiss. It didn't bring any of that grand, swoopy, floating feeling that Lizzie's books described. But it did feel warm, and wonderful. It did make her feel giddy.

P pulled away first. He looked at her, as though he was gauging her reaction. The same way he had when they were fencing, when they were dancing.

She could have laughed at his nervousness; if only because she was more nervous than she ever thought she would be. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him again. She felt, rather than heard, the sound from the back of his throat. His palms pressed against her back, holding her close.

Gemini chirped. She heard it, distantly, but she was too focused on kissing P. Focused on the warmth of his breath; the warmth of him.

It was certainly not the fairy tale romance from her sister's books.

But it felt fitting for Alice Liddell.

*

The streets of Krat were still not entirely safe.

There were still a few lingering puppets, though they did very little without the king of puppets, or Geppetto, to control them. There were more of the monsters from the alchemists experiments with the petrification disease. They were still dangerous.

He took Alice back to the hotel. She walked with her arm linked in his, her skirts fluttering like petals. Her weight was steady against his, and he liked that. It made him feel safe. It sent the butterflies in his chest into a frenzy.

She was greeted warmly. Eugenie pulled her into a tight hug, and Venigni kissed her hand several times. She laughed, and it lit her face. That laughter disappeared when she heard the news about Lady Antonia's death.

P squeezed her hand, tightly, and she squeezed back.

Eventually, he managed to whisk her away to the gold coin fruit tree courtyard, for them to be alone again. Giangio was nowhere to be found, but he felt relieved by that. His curiosity about Alice, his pressing, earnest questions, had unsettled P. He hadn’t told him anything, and he had the even more unsettling feeling that it wasn’t the last he’d seen of the ‘alchemist.’

P wouldn’t think about it. Instead, he sat next to Alice, with the tree’s branches overhead. It's fruit glistened gold in the sunlight. He couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand.

"Tell me everything," Alice said. She brushed a lock of P's silver hair behind his ear, her fingers lingering over the shape of it. He could really feel it, now. Before, it felt as though everything was smothered. Muffled. He hadn’t even known. Now, it was all amplified, sending shivers down his spine. "Everything that happened, whilst I was gone."

He did. He spoke about finding Sophia, and how he’d released her. Spoke about Simon Manus’ plan to become God. He spoke about finding his father, and his father only wanting to use his heart for Carlo, regardless of what happened to P. His father, pierced through the heart, by P's replacement. Of how P held him in his arms, and cried to lose him, despite everything.

It sent another tear sliding down his cheek. Alice brushed it away. Her green eyes were soft as jade in the sunlight.

"It's strange," P said. Crying still felt strange; made his chest feel tight and his cheeks feel hot. He didn’t like it, it was painful, and that made him like it all the time. "I should hate him. I want to hate him, for what he did."

Alice's knees pressed against his. Her finger fell to the lapel of his coat. She tugged it closed, and placed her palm there.

"Love is complicated," she said.

He put his hand over hers. His flesh hand. Truly flesh now, all the way through. P leant closer, meeting her eyes, and asked, "Do you have any family?"

Alice did not reply immediately. She smoothed P's lapel, again, her hair falling forward. He tucked it back behind her ear, revelling in how it felt like touching silk.

"I did, once." Alice took a deep breath.

P shifted closer. It was instinctual, he felt, to put his arm around her shoulders. Was the right thing to do, because she leant into him, and that silky hair was pressed against his cheek. "There was a fire. I was the only survivor. It was - I thought for ten years it was my fault. But…it wasn't. It was deliberate. A man. A monster."

P's other arm held her, and Alice gripped it like a lifeline. He couldn't understand it; the grief and the pain that she would feel from that. He knew his own was terrible; was all-consuming; it was a wonder that she was still so strong.

"I'm sorry," P murmured.

Alice didn't answer. She stayed pressed against him, a warm weight, and held him back as tightly as he held her. They stayed, twisting into each other like tree branches, for an indeterminable time, to P.

Eventually, though, and slowly, Alice lifted her head. She caught his cheek, and turned his face.

"I've come to terms with it," she said, with the hint of a smile. There was still more to her story, P recognised, but there was also time. They had time, and he could wait to hear more of Alice's story. He would have time to tell her more of his own. He would tell her that he’d managed to channel Sophia’s ergo again, into a puppet.

Still, Alice hesitated, a moment, before she kissed him. He kissed her back.

And despite all of the grief and confusion swirling within him, he felt a surge of warmth in his chest.

Alice had said love was complicated.

But this didn't seem complicated.

It seemed very simple.

*

Alice reunited with Sophia. This new Sophia. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that - about Sophia being a puppet, but her soul remaining inside.

It was certainly a philosophical question.

And yet, this was her Sophia. This Sophia still had the same soft, blue gaze. The same sweet smile. The same way of taking her hands and squeezing them tightly.

"It's so wonderful that you found your way back," she said.

"Thanks to you," Alice replied. "It was your butterfly that led me here."

Sophia tilted her head to one side, examining Alice. There it was - that same glint of mischief that she'd noticed on their first meeting. It really was Sophia, inside that puppet. Though this Sophia's hands were stiffer; this Sophia's hands were cold; this Sophia had clockwork mechanisms inside her. But one day, as she remembered, she might be like P; she may find her way to becoming human, again.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Which was interesting. Very interesting. It made Alice feel capable. As if the secret to reality-hopping was not too far away from her. She might just be able to figure it out, one day.

"Thank you." She smiled.

The hotel was - quieter, now. Without Geppetto, without the alchemists in the city, there was an emptiness. A hotel with no purpose in an empty city.

She began to spend time in P's room. She didn't stay the night – Alice may not be a proper lady, but she still had an idea of what was proper, and what was not – but she did stay late. She spent evenings reading through the posters and papers P had collected on his travels. It was a glimpse of the Krat that was there before. It filled her with the same deep melancholy, deep calmness, that came from visiting a graveyard.

It wasn't all reading. There was a lot of sitting close to P. Closer than close. Of figuring out how kisses worked; what teenagers did, when they were unchaperoned. It was surprisingly awkward work. She felt ridiculously self-conscious of herself, even though she appeared how she did in Wonderland - the way she wanted to look.

As if it mattered, anyway, when P looked at her like that. Like she was beautiful. When he looked at her like that, she could believe it. He’d seen her kill, and he still thought she was beautiful.

She sat on his bed, half on his chest, their legs tangled together. He was warm, and the sun caught his white hair, so it shone.

"Do you remember anything more?" she asked.

P held her as gently as he always held her. He turned his head to one side, and his lips grazed her forehead.

"Only what I remembered on the beach," he replied. His voice was as soft as piano music. "They don't feel like my memories. I still don't feel like Carlo."

"You're P." Alice looked up at him; at those sapphire blue eyes, that seemed to shine. "And you're – you're mine."

She hesitated to say it, and when she did, she flushed with heat and ducked her head to her chest. But P only pulled her closer. Her hand landed over his heart, and she felt it race under her palm like a butterfly's wings.

"And you're mine."

It felt right. It felt like they fit each other. Two puzzle pieces that fit. Two children who'd been thrown into nightmares and betrayed inside them. Time didn’t matter.

Alice smiled. She let P tilt her chin upwards, and saw he was too. It melted her. He kissed her, deeply.

"Do you plan to stay?" P asked.

"I think so." As much as Alice could, anyway, when she still didn’t know how to slide back or forth. It still didn't feel like she was here to stay. "What are you going to do now?"

"I suppose I want to complete my purpose," P murmured. His thumb rubbed circles into Alice's waist; that movement would make her purr, if she was a cat. "I want to save Krat. I will have to travel outside the city - find people who can help."

"The petrification disease?"

"It stems from Ergo. Now it is not being used, the infection rate should slow." P paused. "I knew a man – an alchemist – who supplied a kind of cure. Perhaps it could be treatable, one day."

Alice shifted, so she was sat in front of him. She took his hands, watching her fingers link with his. They fitted perfectly, even the metal ones.

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"It will be." P squeezed her hand. "I will have help."

Alice kissed the back of his hand. "What else do you have planned?"

"I would like to go to London. With you." P tugged their hands to him, and kissed the back of hers. First one, then the other. Alice let her hair swing forward, her chest swarming with warmth. No matter how many times he did that, it had the same effect on her. It made her feel like she was melting.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Then P sat properly too. Pressed a kiss against her temple and cheek. She caught his shoulders, and tried not to giggle like a little girl. "I would like to help the remaining puppets - to remember, or for their ergo to be released." "That's very noble." Alice pressed her own kiss against P's cheek. His warm, human cheek. "You're much more noble than me."

He made Alice seem brutal and vicious. Made her feel ashamed for her actions in Wonderland.

"I think you are more noble than you realise,” P pressed their foreheads together. “And I have done many things that are not noble. I always did what my father asked. Until the end."

He killed whatever Geppetto had asked him to. And that still hurt him. Alice kissed him, as though that could help heal the wound.

She would stay here, she resolved. She would stay, and she would try and do some good in Krat. She would stay with P, and learn more about romance. One day, she would figure out the key to this world-hopping once and for all. She would show P London. She might even show him Wonderland. He would, she thought, understand Wonderland; he'd find it as beautiful as he seemed to find her.

Alice was practically in his lap, and couldn’t be fussed about the impropriety any longer. She looked at P, their hands still linked; her other on his shoulder. She looked at his Ergo-blue eyes. Traced constellations in the freckles across his cheeks – those hadn't changed – looked at his bow-shaped lips.

"You know," Alice said. Her voice was unusually soft, and she hated saying it. Hated being vulnerable like this, but it was hard not to be, around P. "It's the strangest thing, and I never thought it would happen to me, but I believe I—"

Her voice got stuck. The two final words were so small; should be easy to say; she was too out of practice. The words were too important.

P shook his head, and his hair moved with him.

"You do not have to say it," he said. Kissed her, again, and did not pull away. His lips grazed against hers, as he said, "I think I feel the same way." Because neither of them really knew what love was. But one day, they would.

One day, Alice thought, they'd be able to say they loved each other.

[purity-town]

Been a little while since I last answered some asks, so -- replies below the cut!

Here ya go! Also tossed it in my sta.sh in case Tumblr crunches it.

Aha, don't worry, Chris! You'll get to experience plenty of horrors soon that'll validate your weird dreams!

All things considered, Chris is handling things pretty well right now, but I think he'd still accept a hug!

I whipped out my extensive comic collection (four of The Adventure Zone graphic novels) to get some inspiration for this! Those books tend to have a pretty basic back cover with a couple of the main/supporting characters tossed onto it, and I can see something similar working for Purity Town considering how many NPCs there are overall in the game (even though the number we've actually seen in the comic up to this point is much lower)!

:D Thanks for reading! I can't always manage to finish pages on time, but I do my best and I'm glad y'all're enjoying updates.

My first experience learning about the whole Guide/WoF thing was...I think a Stampy Cat video years before I even knew what Terraria really was. I assumed it was the scary final boss of the game, and didn't think anything more on it for half a decade. And then 1.4 came along and I got incredibly attached to the character. That's just how it goes!

For what it's worth, I will make the disclaimer: while I find it interesting to push characters and write how they react as they crack, at the end of the day, I do write happy endings. And there's plenty of room for more happy one-shots in the AO3 fic!

I kept the monsters in a sketch/low-detail/silhouetted style mostly to emphasize that Chris' dreams were strange and imprecise, but it was still cool to play around with monster designs a bit! Translating designs from the game version to comic characters can be weird because you need to account for the game expecting you to always see them from a particular angle -- the Wall of Flesh is the most extreme/obvious example of this. When we get to seeing more of Plantera proper I'll definitely have to brush up on my flower-drawing skills, haha.

I haven't actually built it out in a Terraria world proper! The world used in the blog header is a screenshot from the world I first beat the game in.

As far as a general description goes, the main town is located in a forest biome with the snowy-mountains-and-lake background. In the main area of town is the tavern and the nurse's clinic, plus the (now abandoned) clothier's store. Andrew also lives in the forest town, though slightly up-hill from it, so that he has to walk through some trees before he gets into the town square itself.

For the most part I imagine characters living in the biome they prefer in-game (with exceptions for those who like the Hallow), though the bulk of folks live in the Purity Town. The settlements in the other biomes are smaller, since having the pylons means you can go wherever you need to go for business quite easily.

Thanks! Terraria has some crazy lore once you start digging into it -- I think it'd be really cool to see "Zullie the Witch"-style lore deep dives just going ham on the minutiae of NPC interactions and Bestiary entries.

But in any case, getting to take all of that and work it into the comic here and there is good fun :D

Thank you!! I had a lot of fun with this chapter's cover, especially with the lighting and the border around the top. The Aether/shimmer stuff and the more glowy critters like faelings and prismatic lacewings are just such a delight to draw, haha.

[battlekilt]

@rochenn (ref.)

@battlekilt AAAA THANK YOU <33 i feel like he's underappreciated in many areas of this fandom (which is probably bc most of his potential was never addressed in canon). but it's always great to see more people taking an interest in him!

Let us not undervalue a mighty "Old Person" with enough skill and sass to be a devastating force.

See, my internal argument is...

I have Force-sensitive Clones. Fox and Rex. Fox and Rex. And Clones are already well-trained, right? Well, they are also stubborn. They didn't grow up in the same instructional environment like the Jedi. I could go much further into detail why it takes someone with Dooku's modified teaching methods to get Rex to respond. Tell them they didn't do something right, and they are going to work on getting it right. Don't tell them what they did wrong or right... and their Fett-itude gets activated.

For nearly two years, I've been living with this mental image of Dooku driving Rex crazy. How? Because Rex is doing katas over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and OVER again.

He's an ARC. Mine is an Alpha ARC, as it turns out—sort of—he was raised among them since he was four (8). He's used to doing really darn well pRETTY QUICKLY! Jedi are easily impressed by him. Dooku may have been Sith, but he's... sort of half-reformed?

Anyway.

He isn't impressed.

He looks... bored.

No matter how much Obi-Wan is trying not to flail, tell the good Commander that he did well, he's gotten scolded once for pipping up with a single word. If he wants to watch, he has to shut up. Rex is doing real good! The form is real good, not masterful—obviously. But, for the little time he's begun to be trained? Windu and Plo are pleased with the progress. Wolffe is acting like a cheerleader, and so would Anakin be. Cody is just grumpy because he's lost his favorite brother to the space wizards—in more ways.

Fox is sulking, too, but because he knows that once Dooku is done with Rex—he's going to get the attention. Until then, let Rex get the passive, genuinely UNIMPRESSED, borderline BORDER expression on the old Dark Side's face.

Every time Rex repeats the katas, many peer around the edges at Dooku to see if he'll finally do more than do what he's done...

Each. And. Every. Time.

He doesn't. He might brush some invisible lint off a shoulder. Mostly, though, He just stands there, still like a statue, even makes for Rex to squirm on his feet, before he says, "Again."

It takes a lot to test Rex's patience when it comes to perfecting his form. But, Dooku has it. Good thing because neither Rex nor Fox were responding the way they should have to the others. They just weren't as driven.

Now he's driven. He's driven out of sheer SPITE. Look, once, when he was between seven and eight years old—(14-16)—he got a NOD OF APPROVAL once, ONE TIME, from Jango Fett, and the reluctant fueled him to do it out of spite for the next two years. Probably when he learned the Fett-secret blaster-spin-holster trick Fordo taught him, who learned it from Jango...

Fox is trying to run away—Seventeen has caught him, and is just about ready to hold him up by an ankle. Wolffe is thanking Fett's Frozen Bolts that he didn't get this Force-osik, and Obi-Wan has got Cody held by the collar to keep from launching himself at Dooku like the old "wind-bag" was Grievous.

Rex just huffs, wipes his brow, and starts again.

Baby Boba? Well, he's a teenager now. He's just staring at the chaos.

Torrent is staring in shock. Because... this is very familiar.

Oh, right... Rex did this to them all the time. No feedback. Just... Again, until their heads get twisted up with paranoid delusions of what they could be doing wrong, or what sick and sadistic motivations drive their then-Captain.

For another time, Rex finishes—

The long pause. Someone's holding their breath.

"Again."

The crowd erupts in a groan.

Wolffe offers to get snacks. Fox has started to cry from being held upside. He doesn't WANT TO—he promises he won't steal other people's left-over noodles! Lies, lies, and more lies.

Ahsoka, Rex's other saber trainer, is a little better. At least she smiles! Then she tells him to do it again.

When Ahsoka is heard to say, "Again, Rex," she at least acknowledges that he has a name, and even goes so far as to add, "Please."

Not Dooku. No.

From the Count, it is just a cool, "Again."

[miekasa]

future nostalgia (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader, armin is absolutely putting in the work and deserves wingman of the year, mikasa is your well-reasoned, protective friend how you like them apples

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, everybody is a little bit of an idiot, armin and eren supremacy, i will find a way to make levi captain of something in any and every au

↯ word count: 1.5k

↯ summary: armin arlert is the greatest wingman a boy could ask for; unfortunately he’s also oblivious as hell and painfully single himself, but you know what, he’s doing his best (aka you and eren putting your friends through the mental wingman/wingwoman olympics).

↯ notes: i’m running out of gifs to use i’m going to have to learn how to use photoshop to make headers rip in peace to me, also this an old piece, reworked for eren again, sometimes i cheat off of myself it’s okay  

“Just come by the rink during practice,” Armin pleas, “I promise, he can put his hot-headedness to good use!”

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckle, your voice booming through the speaker of his phone, “But I’m pretty sure the rink is closed to non-athletes or team members, Armin.”

“But I can get you access! Manager’s privileges!” Armin boasts.

“While I appreciate the reminder about how single you think I am—and, I do, truly, Armin, from the bottom of my heart, thank you—you don’t have to try and set me up with one of your hockey jockeys.”

“They’re not jockeys!” Armin protests.

“Reiner Braun is most definitely a jockey.”

Armin slumps down a bit. Okay, most of them are good people. Most of the time. Look, Reiner is the exception, not the norm, but even he could be analytical and composed when he needed to be. 

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Armin threatens.

“Fine, then I’ll tell him that you almost leaked his nudes to the entire girls volleyball team freshman year.”

“You play dirty,” Armin pouts, face growing red at the memory. (In his defense, it was freshman year, pretty much the first time in his life he’d had alcohol unsupervised, and in his drunken haze he thought he might have been doing Reiner a favor; he was pining over Christa pretty hard). “Which is exactly why you’ll love Eren!”

“Eren, still?” you question, trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “What’s the infatuation with me and Eren? You know, if I’m being honest, Jean is more my type, or even the captain—what’s his name again?”

“You mean Levi?” Armin questions, incredulous, “He’s the exact opposite of your type, don’t lie to me!”

“He’s still hot.”

“Is he really?” Mikasa’s voice questions doubtfully; and you can practically feel her rolling her eyes from across the receiver, “You can do better than him, (Y/N).”

“Wait, am I on speaker?” you ask.

“Maybe, doesn’t matter,” Armin hums, brushing away the topic, “Like I was saying, Eren is great, and you’re great, so you’d be great together! Plus, he’s kind of loaded, and very generous. Not that you’re shallow or anything, but I’m just saying, he’d take you on nice dates.”

“You’re kind of loaded and you don’t take me on nice dates.”

“Because we’re not dating.”

“You could take me on a friend date,” you muse, “Don’t be stingy, Armin.”

“She has a point,” Mikasa quips, “You always go to the fancy museums and don’t invite us.”

“Because the last time I did, you fell asleep! In the middle of the coral reef exhibit!” Armin whines.

“Because it was boring as fuck,” Mikasa deadpans, prompting you to chuckle.

“I have to agree. I’m afraid if you and Eren have the same taste in dates, it will never work out.”

“We don’t!” Armin insists, “Look, Eren is exactly your type, (Y/N), I’m telling you! He’s cute, athletic, but not bulky, and little clumsy, but it can be charming! Plus he loves puppies, cares about the environment, believes the healthcare system is corrupt, and hates most branches of law enforcement! What more could you want!”

“Armin,” you pause, holding back your laughter, “Maybe you should set yourself up with Eren if you think he’s that great.”

Armin chokes on the other end of the line, and your chuckles stumble out; you can imagine the blonde growing red and increasingly embarrassed with every passing second.

Mikasa hums. “Armin and Eren do have good chemistry—”

“Hello?! I don’t want to date Eren!”

“—but, I’ll vouch for Eren on this, too,” Mikasa continues, “I think you two would be good together.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You’d always known Mikasa was in support of setting you up with Eren too—albeit much more subtle than her blonde counterpart—but she’d never said it explicitly; showing her approval in contended nods and hums whenever Armin would scheme to get you and Eren together. It was somewhat reassuring to hear.

You’re about to continue teasing Armin about the subject, when you hear your apartment door unlock. You shift your phone to your other hand, as you hear the sound of keys clanging onto the hook near the door.

“Look, guys, I gotta go,” you tell him, “This is been fun, but maybe focus on working out your feelings before setting me up, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a beautiful friends to lovers story.”

“Will you—I want you to date Eren, not date him myself! There—be quiet, Mikasa—there are no feelings to work out, I don’t even like g—”

“Sounds, good Armin,” you chuckle, words hurried as you hear footsteps approaching you, “Try and get Levi’s number for me, would you? Rumor has it he’s loaded, too—old money rich and everything.”

“But Eren is perfect—” is all you hear before you end the call, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, just as your thumb presses against your screen.

Ruffled, brown hair falls onto your shoulders as a chin is propped up against your neck; a flurry feather light kisses greeting you soon after. You hum, reaching your hand back to curl into the brown tresses, a final, exaggerated kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Why are you trying to get Captain’s number,” Eren questions, voice muffled as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, “No offense, but I think you’d have to line up behind his hundred and one fangirls first, babe.”

You chuckle lightly, neck growing warm as Eren continues to bury himself into your skin. His is cold from the winter air, but you don’t know why he insists on inflicting it onto you, when you know he’ll be back to furnace temperatures within the next ten minutes.

“I’m just messing with Armin,” you answer, resting on of your hands over Eren’s at your waist and giving it a squeeze, “He’s still trying to set us up.”

Eren chuckles, undoing his hold on you to spin you around to face him, cold hands cupping either side of your face. You scrunch your nose at the frigid feeling, but Eren finds it cute, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose as an apology.

“Well, Armin is nothing if not loyal,” Eren muses.

“He’s too good for you,” you jest, poking at Eren’s forehead playfully, “He’s putting in all this work to be a good wingman, and you’re slacking off.”

“Technically, he’s not doing any work, we’re already together.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Eren questions, using his hands to squish your cheeks together, “I wanted to tell him two months ago.”

“First of all, this secret thing was your idea to begin with,” you point out, “Which—oh, by the way, I told you Mikasa approves of you; she said we’d be cute together on the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean she still won’t castrate me if we ever break up,” Eren says, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of it.

It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from all of your friends forever, but he was hesitant at first, unsure of how your two friend groups would merge and take the news. And, he knew how much Mikasa cared about you, and truthfully, the dark haired girl scared him a little.

But it was bordering on half a year now, and he was certain that somebody would catch on soon enough. That, or Eren would accidentally let it slip to the entire hockey team one of these days—he almost has on a handful of occasions, but you don’t need to know about all of that.

And while a part of him did like the privacy that came along with dating in secrecy, Eren was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend to not be in love with you whenever you two went out with your friends; and to not brag that he had a super hot, super supportive girlfriend to wear his jersey during games, and Jean didn’t.

“You have plans to break up with me, Jaeger?” you question, but there’s a playful lilt in your voice.

It makes Eren grin, using his grip on your face to pull you closer, words ghosting over your lips before he pulls you in for a kiss, “Not in a million years.”

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

“You will learn to love me.” - With Heisenberg and restorator darling, please? Perhaps when this is her first experience?

Heisenberg/F!Darling: "You'll learn to love me."

TW: Dubcon, loss of virginity, forced marriage

Weddings were usually a joyous affair. Gorgeous dresses, dancing and enjoying your loved ones' company, celebrating the life you wanted to share with your one-and-only... ____'s wedding was not at all like what she or her family might have hoped it would be. For one thing, none of them even knew where she was; she'd spent the last few months trapped by the terrifying man who'd kidnapped her from the Romanian wilderness, a man named Heisenberg who had a gift with metal that bordered on supernatural. As a restorator she would've been fascinated if she wasn't terrified of what he could do with that power of his, especially when his "work" littered his factory with corpses and their scattered body parts. The only other company she had were the wolflike monsters and patchwork creations that followed Heisenberg's orders.

He'd actually bothered to get a wedding dress for her, an admittedly beautiful traditional gown made by the women in the village. The delicate lace along the sleeves and the vibrant embroidered flowers and patterns on the vest looked so out of place in the dusty and rusted-out factory. The villagers were eager to celebrate their Lord's marriage and hadn't stopped sending flowers, pastries, clothing, and handmade talismans for long-life/love/fertility to the outskirts of Heisenberg's property until he'd stationed some of the Lycans to scare off the throngs of annoying worshippers and well-wishers. ____ didn't know if it was better or worse that Heisenberg and her would be the only ones at the wedding; she was terrified of being alone with him, but the way the villagers stared at her and threw themselves to the ground while reverently calling her "Lady Heiseberg" left her uncomfortable to say the least.

____ stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried her best to prepare herself for what was to come. I can still try to escape, but...being his wife just makes it feel more hopeless. She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at the reflection of her dress through her veil. I'll have to be tied to him, even if I'm being forced to say those fucking vows to always stay with him until "death to us part."

She didn't hate him, at least not as much as she did when he'd first taken her. She definitely feared him, but that was just common sense when your captor has an army of corpse-machines, werewolves, and can control electricity and metal with his mind. He'd been more accommodating than he'd expected for a kidnapper. He had been sexually forceful sometimes whenever he groped her or turned her head to kiss her, or lightly rutted against her body when the two of them slept in the same bed. But he'd also given her a room to herself, and insisted on not forcing himself on her completely until he'd made her his wife--another reason she was dreading this day. He'd appreciated her restoration skills and the two of them had actually shared some enjoyable conversations while spending time in his workshop. And he was fiercely protective of her when it came to his equally monstrous siblings and mother. Part of it seemed to be selfishness, not wanting them to go after HIS woman, but he'd consoled her after that wretched little doll of Lady Beneviento's had insisted on "playing" with her by chasing her and tearing at the flesh and skin of her legs. His voice had been soft when he'd promised to not let anyone hurt her, and having him hold her was comforting.

The sound of her bedroom door opening snapped ____ out of her thoughts, and she saw Heisenberg walk into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual trenchcoat, and instead had on an outfit that ____ had never seen him in before: a black vest with similar embroidery to her own outfit, along with a white blouse underneath with fur-trimmed black sleeves. His pants were also black, save for the bit of dust around the hem from walking around the factory. His shoes were made from dark leather and had the same fur trim as his shirtsleeves and the inside of ____'s vest. His signature sunglasses were absent, and his hair was freshly washed and combed.

Heisenberg stared at ____ for a moment, looking her up and down as she stood in her wedding clothes. He had seen what they'd looked like folded up and hanging in her closet, but it was nothing compared to her wearing them. He wasn't used to seeing something so delicate and beautiful, especially in his factory. "Everything's ready," he said. He put one arm around ____'s waist and kept a gentle yet firm grip around her. "Since Miranda gave us her 'blessing' beforehand, we don't need to have her here to watch and attend in all her glory," he quipped. "God knows that bitch would ruin this whole thing just by being here."

____ let Heisenberg lead her to his own room, where a small leather box lay on his bedside table. He used his powers to shut and lock the door behind ____ while he went to grab the box. "I don't have much from my real family," Heisenberg said, carefully opening the lid. The inside was lined with cloth, and inside was a pair of exquisite wedding bands. There were some signs of age in the metal, but the small opalescent jewel nestled in the center of the bridal ring shone as if it had been polished just yesterday. The other ring was less flashy, with the only flair being am etched ridge in the shape of a mountain on the top, inlaid with gold. "This ring's one of the only things I've got from them." He took the groom's ring and slipped it on his own finger. "I want to say it was one of my great uncles who made it? One of them was a jeweler, I think." He shrugged and held his hand out to admire how it looked. "My mom slipped them into my things after Miranda's people had come to take me and my cousins away. I think she knew it'd be the last time she saw all of us together."

____ noticed the strange tone in Heisenberg's voice as he recalled his last memory with his family. She'd never heard him reminisce about them before; with how far-off and melancholy he sounded, she knew why it wasn't something he discussed that often. Just as she was about to try to say something to try and comfort him, he took the bride's ring with one hand and slipped the box into his pocket. He took ____'s hand and squeezed it. "There's no set of vows we have to take," he explained with a half-smile. "One of the perks of being royalty in this shit hole is anything you do is fine, no matter how informally you do it. Not like the villagers are gonna complain about us not following all the traditions, so it saves a lot of time. But..." Heisenberg stared intensely at her as he slipped the ring onto her trembling finger. "One day, you'll learn to love me. I promise that."

____'s hand felt as if it were chained to a sinking weight, pulling her through the ground and crushing her. There was no way out. She'd be "married" to this man who'd ruined her life, isolated from the rest of the world and completely at his mercy. Her heart leaped into her throat and she suddenly felt a rush of dizziness; she stumbled forward and Heisenberg caught her, helping her back upright and holding her in his arms. He brushed her clothed hip with his thumb and then lifted her veil to fully reveal her face. Before ____ knew it, Heisenberg's lips were against hers as he tilted her head back slightly to deepen the kiss.

Heisenberg ran his fingers through her hair as he lowered her onto his bed. ____'s heart raced and panic ran up and down her spine as she lay on the bed. He was taking off his shoes, unbuttoning his vest...reaching down to take off her veil. "K-Karl," she stammered, "I'm not...I've--"

"Never done this before?" He rested one hand on her vest before unbuttoning the golden clasps and sliding it off of her shoulders while she just tried her best to stay still. "I figured as much." Heisenberg smirked and moved one hand underneath the skirt of her dress, creeping up her thighs and stopping just inches from her panties. "You always get that funny little look on your face whenever I touch you for a bit in bed, almost like you're feeling a certain way for the first time. Wouldn't surprise me if you've never even touched yourself."

Goosebumps rose on ____'s legs as Heisenberg ghosted his fingers over her pubic mound, and she looked away as she rubbed her thighs together. Was she really THAT obvious about it? "I know I can't stop you," she said quietly. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes as she tried her hardest to not envision what ____ was about to do to her. Maybe he'd start to tire of her once he finally fucked her and got what he really wanted, and he'd let her go. Would she get blood on the sheets and her dress when he entered her? Would he even care? She could already feel his cock prodding her through his pants; it was a strange, foreign presence that filled her with dread. She knew that some men had penises so large that they could fill someone up all the way to their cervix...just how painful was this going to be once he took all of his clothes off? How harsh would he be now that he didn't feel the need to be so accommodating and kind once he finally claimed her?

____ sniffled and looked up at Heisenberg pitifully. "Please be gentle," she begged. "I don't want...I know it can hurt a lot during your first time, so just..."

Heisenberg cocked his head slightly and rested his fingers on the flesh of her right thigh. "It can hurt if you don't do it right," he replied, sounding a little confused. "What, you think I'm just gonna whip my cock out, go in dry, and finish after a few pumps?"

____ looked up at him, not sure of what to say. "You want to f-fuck me, don't you?" She sounded more confused than accusatory. "That's why you kidnapped me. That's why you've tried to be nice to me and make me trust you." Her shoulders drooped slightly and she clenched her jaw. "I just figured that you wouldn't care that much about...about making me feel good, at least not as much as yourself."

Heisenberg's brows furrowed, but only for a moment before leaning down to kiss her again. ____'s eyes widened at just how gentle this kiss was compared to the one he'd given her after slipping his ring on her finger. "I didn't kidnap you just to be a cocksleeve," he replied with a slightly disappointed frown. He caressed the inside of her thigh and trailed his lips down to her collarbone. "If I wanted that, I would've just raped you the first night you were here." ____ moaned softly as he moved one hand underneath her blouse to massage her breast, and a sudden rush of heat pooled between her legs as he used his other hand to play with an extra-sensitive bundle of nerves through her underwear.

"Kidnapping you doesn't really help my case," he said begrudgingly, "But I do love you, you know. As much as I can love anyone after the shit I've been through." He toyed with her nipple and smiled when he felt her hips rock a bit as he circled around her clit through her panties. "You're not my whore, you're my wife. So tell me what you want, and how you want it. And I'll give it to you."

____'s entire body felt so warm underneath her wedding dress. The places he was touching her felt so tingly, just like how they did whenever he groped her before tonight. Somehow though, this was different. Her fear wasn't as prevalent and the heat bubbling up underneath her skin wasn't from shame. This felt gentler. This felt good. So, so good. He wasn't lying to her about doing whatever SHE wanted; for once, she felt like she had a semblance of control while in bed with him--previously her kidnapper, but now her husband.

____'s voice was breathier than she expected whenever she spoke again. "C-could...could you put your mouth on me?" She rested one shaky hand by her chest on top of his own. "On my breasts, where your hand is right now. I want to f-feel more of...of this." She was struggling to articulate just what she was feeling and what she wanted, but Heisenberg just grinned as if he'd heard her loud and clear. When he lifted her thin white blouse over her head, leaving her in just her skirt, panties, and stockings, he immediately latched onto her right breast while he continued to play with her left nipple. ____ gasped and bucked her hips as he swirled his tongue around the pebble of flesh; his stubble grazed her soft skin, and the texture made her shiver.

Heisenberg finally moved his lips back with a small pop and switched to her other breast while he circled even faster around her clitoris and occasionally stroked the damp spot around her cunt's lips. "Can you feel how wet you are down here?" He chuckled and hooked one finger around the waistband of her panties before pulling them off of her completely. "I definitely won't hurt you if you're dripping like this from just my fingers." He slowly inserted his middle finger inside of her tight walls and eagerly looked at her face as she moaned and moved her hips to take even more of his hand. "Does it hurt, honey?"

"Ah, n-no..." ____ had never felt so hot and lightheaded and FULL. There was a stretch, but it wasn't painful; if anything, she wanted to feel more and more of it. "It feels good, so good..." Heisenberg curled his finger inside of her and laughed again at how his wife cried out in pleasure, practically shoving her pelvis forward to fuck herself on his hand while her pussy clenched around him. "More, more, please! That felt even better, do it again--o-or, or put another finger inside, or your whole hand or your cock or--"

Heisenberg shushed her and slightly increased his pace as he slipped another finger inside of her. "Easy, tiger," he teased with a smile. "I'm not using my cock until you cum at LEAST once on my hand. I haven't even gotten to taste you yet!"

"But...don't you want to feel good t-too?"

Heisenberg felt his hard-on stabbing through his clothes as he rutted his hips against the mattress. He'd get some relief soon, but for now he wanted to show her just what she really meant to him. He could fill her up with his cum and fuck her silly later--right now, he wanted to make sure his perfect little wife enjoyed every single second of her wedding night the way she deserved.

This WAS a celebration of their love, after all.

[itskatastrophe-x]

Finally Home (c!Sapnap x Reader)

I let my twitter followers decide who I wrote a oneshot for, and they wanted c!Sapnap, so here it is :) Written in the span of like... Idk 2 hours?? It’s a soulmate AU where you can feel everything your soulmate feels when you get in a certain distance of them and it gets stronger the closer you get to them. I hope yall like it!!

Word count :  2,701

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

There it was again. That burning sensation on the palms of your hands. You didn’t understand where it came from or why it was happening, but it hurt like hell. You wondered if it would ever stop, but you doubted it would. You knew the stories all too well but figured it would never happen to you, and slowly your fears confirmed it as all of your friends got theirs and eventually found their person. A soulmate. The way they talked about how they could feel what their soulmate felt on a physical level. They would feel light brushes against their arms or bumps when the other person would be somewhere busy. All of your friends had found their other halves years ago, explaining that when it happened there was a jolt like electricity in their bodies. After all of your friends had abandoned you, you had given up hope in ever finding your person. So you travelled. For miles and miles and miles, seeing every country, village, and kingdom your empty heart desired. You had lost everyone you loved and couldn’t even find your soulmate. 

Then it happened all too suddenly. If you had to guess, it happened when you got within range of the person, so you kept up your pace and travelled. It was an unpleasant sensation. It felt like fire all over your body. At first it was a small stinging, then the farther you travelled, the closer you got to this person, it grew. You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of cuts and wounds your other half would experience. You wished it was something as simple as the things your friends had gone through, but this was a nightmare. You wished you could meet this person once and for all just so you could give them a strong right hook to the jaw, then changed your mind as you remembered that you would also feel it. 

You knew by the things you were going through that this person was crazy and potentially dangerous with the amount of wounds this person was accumulating through the weeks of you travelling, so you did your best to be delicate. Whenever you would feel a new pain, you would prepare healing potions and drink them in hopes that the other person would also feel the effects. Either that or, if it didn’t feel like a gash or deep cut, you would trace your fingers over the spot gently to sooth the other person to let them know you would comfort them. What you couldn’t stand, though, was the feeling of fire dancing around your fingers. You eventually learned to tune it out and numb yourself to it, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when it started, but it was still painful and annoying.

Then it stopped as suddenly as it started. For three whole days. Three. Days. After the first couple hours of the first day you started to worry. It was rare that you got a single second of rest from this crazy asshole, but three days? Part of you hoped he wasn’t dead, but the other part was happy you didn’t have to deal with scratches, bruises, and burning. But you missed it so much that you wished the burning in your palms returned. Nothing stopped you from continuing on though, even though you had no idea if you were going the right way anymore or not. You used the pain as a guide for weeks to lead you closer, but when it stopped, you lost your physical compass. Something in your heart told you that you were still heading towards them though, so you kept on, this time faster and without much sleep. You wanted to make sure this person was ok, and fast. You watched all of your friends leave you, you couldn’t have your literal soulmate leave you as well. 

When the third day ended and you were about to fall asleep, you felt it. The smallest little touch to your cheek you had ever felt. It was out of the blue and you had never felt such a touch come from the other person, so it woke you up instantly. You laid there for a moment, the stroking on your cheek so soft and faint that you wondered if it was even the person at all. Slowly, you lifted your hand to your other cheek and caressed it. The feeling on your other cheek stopped, but the feeling of a hand still stayed there. That’s when you knew it was them. They knew you would feel it, but probably weren’t expecting you to return the feeling to them. The stroking started again, so you stroked your other cheek for them as well. Then it hit you. Why had you never thought of it before? After weeks of knowing you had a soulmate out there, it just now hit you. You sat up from your bed in the little hotel you were staying at and tapped your leg. The feeling on your cheek stopped then you felt the same tap on your leg again. You smiled and pressed your hand down for a second and felt more pressure a couple seconds later. 

Then you started. At first it was a smiley face, then letters one at a time to write to the person. You asked their age first. Then you felt the pressure of the person writing back. “20”. You drew yours back, then they drew a smile to confirm they got it. You asked their name. “Nick” they wrote back. Then you wrote yours. You got as much information as you could from this small communication as possible so you could find him easier. After your small exchange, you got up, got dressed, packed your things and headed towards a location called “Dream SMP”. You had seen it on maps before, but it was so far away that you thought you would never get there. You had already crossed oceans, rivers, and mountains for this man, but now you had a new fire to feel. A fire burning so deep in you that it ignited in your eyes. You used all the money and resources you had to get there. You bought boats and horses for the days leading up to your arrival.

After over a month of travelling, you finally made it to the outside borders of what was known as the DreamSMP. The streets were full and bustling with life. Most people smiled and greeted you as a new member, fully accepting you the second you set foot on the land, others scowled or threw hateful words your way, possibly thinking you wouldn’t hear, or maybe they hoped you would so you would leave. You asked around about this person “Nick” and got an overwhelming response of happy chatter and protests of anger, so you left as politely as you could to search on your own. 

You felt like it would take forever to find this other person if all of the streets and businesses would be this crowded and overwhelming, until you came across one man standing at the edge of a river with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. His fluffy brown hair flipped up in the front and slightly waved in the breeze, the colors he wore matching his vibe completely. You approached him cautiously at first, but felt comforted by the aura he gave off. You cleared your throat quietly, so as not to startle him, and he opened his eyes slowly to greet you, the lightest shade of blue you had ever seen. He gave you a soft smile and waved you over, so you complied. 

For a second, you wondered if this was him, but you took note of his soft, clear looking skin and the lack of electricity as you neared him. When you got next to him, he pointed across the river to a very ornate village sitting on the hills surrounded by flower forests. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You stared in awe at the mushroom buildings and statue and smiled at him. “I’ve travelled a long way to get here and passed hundreds of kingdoms, but this tops them all,” you replied. He made a noise of agreement and smiled, content with your answer. “Well, tell me, new face, how did you make your way to Kinoko Kingdom, and why are you here?” There was no malice in his voice as he asked and you could tell he was being friendly so you knew you wasn’t being standoffish. “I came to meet my soulmate,” you answered. His eyes went wide and met yours, a look of shock on his face. “Th-that’s you?!” You looked at him, furrowing your brows. How did he know? As if to read your mind, he continued. “I knew he was expecting someone, but, wow… I mean… He’s gonna want to meet you now. He literally hasn’t shut up for weeks about you.” You stammered for a second as he grabbed your hand and started running, barely giving you any reaction time to keep up with him. He was fast and energetic and you liked it. He seemed friendly and bubbly and his touch was comforting. 

He weaved in and out of streets and occasional bystanders watching the two of you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You took it these people didn’t see many new faces, seeing as they were small in numbers. He didn’t slow down until both of you were panting in front of a giant cherry blossom tree in front of the biggest library you had seen. You could hear a loud voice echoing out of the open hole, acting as a doorway. The man next to you put a hand on your shoulder and you looked over at his grinning face. “I should explain before you get in there… My name is Karl and Sapnap, or Nick, is my fiancé. Now before you get worried, we’re in an open, poly relationship and he’s talked to me about all of this and I am 100% welcoming you into our little family.” He gave you a warm smile that reached his eyes so you knew he was being sincere. 

A booming shout broke your thoughts and you felt a pain in your toe that almost made you fall over, then loud laughter erupted. You smiled and shook off your foot as Karl motioned you inside, and that’s all you needed to run inside. The space inside was open with books lining the high walls. There was a staircase to your right, a mushroom in the far back, and a balcony above your head. There you saw him. At first he stood there laughing with the other man in front of him, not realizing you were inside, so you stared. You felt something like fire dancing across your skin lightly as you watched him with wide eyes. He was more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen. He had his jet black hair tied into a messy, low bun at the back of his head, a scar across the length of his face that went across the bridge of his nose. He had a light dusting of freckles across his rosy cheeks and the most piercing eyes. The man in front of him caught onto your stare and nudged the man, pointing down at you from their spot on the balcony. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went up your spine and your skin felt hot, like you were now encased in a cocoon of fire. For a moment you both just stared at each other, not being able to move, until you felt a pair of hands push you gently from behind.

That’s all it took to move you. You took off towards the stairs and took them two at a time as he ran to meet you on the landing. You collided into the biggest hug that knocked the wind out of your lungs and almost sent you flying backwards, but he kept you steady. Your eyes welled up for a moment and you laughed into his chest. He smelled like a campfire, fir trees, and old books. He was so warm and your body fit his so perfectly under his arms. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a soft touch to your shoulder, a small hum coming from Karl behind you. “Thank god you’re finally here. Sapnap literally would not shut up. He always talked about how soft you were with him when he knew how hard it must have been for you. Weeks. Weeks.” Sapnap reached an arm out to punch Karl, but he dodged easily since Sapnap still hadn’t let you go. You chuckled and closed his eyes as he put his arm back over your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered into your hair. He squeezed him and smiled. “You thought I wasn’t?” He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I thought you would hate me. I’m so reckless and get hurt all the time. How could anyone want me if they feel what I feel?” You pulled back to look him in the eyes and you gave him the most genuine smile you had ever had on your face. “You’re stupid. Of course I would be here. And I will stay here. I’ll take care of all your bumps, scrapes, and stabs. The pain means nothing so long as I know you’re ok.” His pointed ears turn a bright red and he averts his gaze to the floor, so you bring your hand to his cheek gently. At first he flinches, but soon closes his eyes, sighs, and leans into your hand, his lip slightly quivering from such tenderness. 

“I do have one question, though.” He hums, not opening his eyes. “Why do my palms always burn? Do you just, like, constantly sit around a campfire?” He chuckles and slowly lifts his head, eyes opening to look at you. He pulls back from you slightly, keeping one arm around your waist as he watches his hand, then back to your face to watch your eyes on his hand. In an instant, his hand is surrounded by fire, the burning in your hand starting up. He must have liked the look on your face because he lets out a snort and then starts laughing, all while you stand there in awe at the power he held. “Holy shit… And… And that’s real fire? Just like that?” You look back at him and he gives you a shy smile and a nod of his head as the fire goes out. There was a sparkle in your eyes that he was absolutely enchanted by and he hoped he would get to see that for the rest of his life. You let out a small huff of amazement and smile brightly. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met,” you say quietly as you watch his features soften as he’s left speechless. 

“Oh get a room,” the guy behind Sapnap says, his voice thick with an accent and sarcasm, the sound of a smile in his words. Sapnap looks at the man and points at him, shooting off a mini fire at him. His shirt catches for a second before the man screams and smacks himself to put it out. You laugh as you watch the exchange and Sapnap looks back at you, thinking of how beautiful your laugh sounds. “Well,” Karl starts. “We have a lot to talk about! Ooooooh this is so exciting! We need to know more about you!!” He grabs both of you and pulls you down the stairs and out to the pond next to the tree out front, the sun finally setting over the hills, casting a gorgeous, fiery glow on your soulmate’s features. You couldn’t wait to see what their life was like. To kiss all of his scars and tell him how amazing he was. To run your fingers through his raven feather-looking hair. Oh how you loved this.

[helliontherapscallion]

New Enemies, New Alliances (Sweet Betrayal Part 4)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Swearing, graphic description of injuries/death, violence, grief, blood, manipulation

Word count: 3,661 

(A/N): Things are starting to get spicy, folks!

“Nice job today, I think you’d actually put up a fight in battle now,” Dream grabbed your hand and helped you up. You basked in the compliment, they were few and far between. Now, if you didn’t pass one of the Badlanders by accident, Dream and Lucius were the only ones to recognize your work. 

You brushed off your training clothes and smiled to yourself when you saw Lucius move to pat you on the back before stopping himself. He’s been around for a month now and he still isn’t used to not being able to touch anyone. You remembered that when he was alive, physical touch was his love language. It must be killing him to not touch anybody. 

“Yeah! I’d hate to be on the other side of your sword, homie!” You have no clue why he started to call you ‘homie’, he hated that word when he was alive. Faintly, you supposed that he must’ve learned it sometime between after he died and when he was looking for you as a ghost. 

“Thanks, guys,” you fiddled with the handle of your sword before swinging it over to rest on your shoulder. The walk home was filled with Lucius and Dream exchanging terrible puns, much to your exasperation. Out of all the things he could’ve kept in his personality after he died, it just had to be his love for puns. 

As the days passed and the war’s climax drew closer and closer, stress was increasing in the White House. Schlatt had become far more paranoid of traitors in the midst of the remaining cabinet, and truth be told you were also growing more paranoid. It was like you and Schlatt were the only ones completely loyal to Manberg anymore. 

Lucius had increasingly grown worried for your well being, always trying to push you to go to bed early and urging you to distance yourself from Schlatt. In your opinion Lucius was insane for even suggesting the latter, Schlatt was everything to you. Without him, you’d be nothing. 

“I really don’t-”

“Lucius, drop it,” you hissed out, rubbing your forehead and returning to your work. You needed to get this paperwork done as soon as you could, otherwise Schlatt would have your ass. 

“I’m not going to ‘drop it’, (y/n). You need a break! All of this,” he swung his arms around to gesture at your office, “isn’t you.” 

“You don’t understand, Lucius,” you bitterly chuckled and threw your quill down onto your desk. The ink that was on the tip splattered over the desk, staining the birch wood black. “This,” you gestured towards the office and walked over to the window. Lucius followed you and looked out at the city. You clasped your hands behind your back and smiled fondly at the sight of the endless buildings. “This is me.” 

“I know you, you aren’t this- this brutal or bloody insane!” Lucius tried to put his hands on your shoulders but stopped himself, settling for crossing them across his chest. “You’re caring, funny, ambitious, and most importantly agreeable! Now, if someone even slightly crosses you, your first thought is revenge.” 

“That person was a coward through and through. Aren’t you happy that I’m finally standing up for myself?” 

“Standing up for yourself? Standing up for yourself? You get stepped on constantly by that ram asshole that you call a father, you call that standing up for yourself?” 

You spun around to face him, looking down at his face with a harsh glare, “you have no right to bring Schlatt up, he’s done everything for me while you were just galavanting around the SMP doing Ender knows what! He’s the one that took me in. He’s the one that cared for me. He’s the one who made me who I am today. He’s the one that made me less of a coward.”

“Are you serious? He’s the one that completely fucked up your life! When was the last time he’s said anything that bordered on nice to you? When was the last time he said he loves you? I just want the best for you, (y/n),” he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at you in desperation and frustration. “You wouldn’t be this mentally unstable or this disfigured if you would’ve just stayed away from him like I told you to do when I was alive.” 

“You clearly don’t know what’s best for me if you’re too blind to know that Schlatt changed me for the better,” you scoffed to yourself. “That person left the second I killed you.”

You watched as his already pale skin blanched impossibly and his eyes widened in horror. “You- you what?” 

So he doesn’t remember his own death? How interesting. 

“You don’t remember? You were my first kill, I can still remember the crunching sound your skull made and how warm the blood that splattered on my face was when I drove that pickaxe through your forehead. The power I felt after I came to terms with the fact that I just took someone’s life? Exhilarating.” 

You smirked down at his terrified face, taking great pleasure in the fear he felt. He took several steps back from you, almost tripping when his heel caught the edge of the carpet. Grinning, you followed him until he was pressing himself up against the wall. You leaned down close to his ear and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like it before. You were my first friend and my first kill, kudos to you.” 

He ducked out of your presence with haste and distanced himself from you, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. He stuttered out a response, “do you even regret it?” 

Regret was something you always pushed deep into your subconscious, “regret is for losers, winners own up to everything they do,” Schlatt’s voice echoed in your mind. You didn’t like thinking about your regrets, however the delicious fearful tone that shook Lucius’ voice was too alluring to ignore. He deserved every single ounce of the fear that racked his body, the argument that had raged on previously still filling you with anger. You’d humor him for now.

You certainly regretted it when you first killed him prior to losing your first life, if losing your first life is anything to go by. You hadn’t even done it on purpose; it was simply a freak accident in an abandoned mineshaft. You didn’t know that when you and Lucius discovered it that you’d leave without him. You could remember exactly what happened that day.

“Luci, wait up!” You pushed yourself to run faster into the cave, chasing the short teenager. He threw his head back and laughed, “catch me if you can!” 

You grinned happily to yourself, “I’ll catch you faster than you can say a damn pun!” 

You followed him deeper and deeper into the cave, passing different assortments of ores and jumping over crevices along the way. The carefree laughter that bounced off from the stone walls mingling with the slapping of both of your leather boots against the floor. 

Despite the sharp twists and turns, you managed to stay hot on his trail. Eventually, he led you deep into a mineshaft. That was where you couldn’t keep up with him anymore. By the time you followed him around a corner, he was nowhere to be seen. You slowly came to a stop and looked around at the dark hallways. This had to be the largest mineshaft you’d ever seen, it was seemingly endless with a labyrinth of twisting halls. You looked behind you only to be met with even more dark halls. You couldn’t even remember where you came from, everything in here looked the same. 

In the distance, you heard the hissing of cave spiders and the pitter pattering of their multitude of feet on stone. You swallowed nervously and took out your pickaxe, mentally scolding yourself for not thinking to bring your sword. Every single sound made you jump out of your skin and press yourself up against the wall, preparing yourself to swing at any movement. 

Eventually, you gathered the courage to start to wander the maze of hallways. You gripped the handle of your iron pickaxe in a vice grip, ready to kill any mob that would potentially sneak up on you. 

“Luci, please come out. I’m starting to get scared.” 

You paused to strain your ears for any potential reply, only to sigh to yourself when you heard nothing but cave spider sounds and the faroff dripping of water. With a steadying breath, you ventured further into the mineshaft. 

As you passed a hallway, you saw sudden movement from the corner of your eye. Squeezing your eyes shut with a small yelp, you spun around, raised your pickaxe, and swung it down with all your might. 

In an instant, you heard a sharp gasp. When you felt your pickaxe make contact with something, a sickening combination of a crunching and squelching noise accompanied the feeling of something warm splatter across your face. You peeked your eyes open to see what mob had attacked you. 

Instead of a zombie or… or whatever your mind was expecting to see, Lucius stood there looking at you with his eyes bulging and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Your hands left the pickaxe and flew up to your mouth as you stepped back in horror at what you’ve done. As soon as you dropped the pickaxe, Lucius’s body dropped with it. He fell to the stone ground limply with a thud, landing on his side with his arms and legs awkwardly sprawled out. 

You stood frozen as you watched his body start to convulse before falling still completely after what seemed like hours. Nothing but the roaring of blood in your ears and the obnoxiously loud thumping of your heart in your throat was heard. You finally snapped out of your trance when you saw his body still and started to dissolve in glowing golden dust. 

“No, nonononono what the fuck did I just do?!” You dropped to your knees next to his body, feeling icy dread as you saw the telltale sign of death floating from his body. Gritting your teeth, you pressed your hands over his limp arm where the majority of the dust was coming from in a desperate attempt to potentially save him. He was already losing his warmth, you could feel him rapidly cooling under your hands. To your terror, the dust merely slipped through the cracks of your fingers. 

Strangled sobs left your mouth as you removed your hands and dragged his upper body onto your lap. You lifted him up and hugged him as tight as you could, once again pressing your hands over the glowing gold, trying and failing to keep his body in one piece. You hated how he was slowly lightning as his body was dissolving. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated to him like a mantra. “I’m so fucking sorry Luci, come back.” 

Just before he fully left you, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, praying to whatever gods were above that he’d just wake up and laugh loudly. 

“You should’ve seen your face,” he’d tease you, “I really got you good this time, didn’t I?” 

He’d then realize just how terrified you were, and he’d then hold you close to him while humming your song over and over. He’d tell you, “turn that frown upside down! You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” He’d put his pointer fingers on the corners of your lips and lift it into a smile, telling you to “fake it til you make it” and that “your smile is your best asset to use against someone.” 

You’d ask him in a bout of confusion, “but then you’d be vulnerable! Isn’t it better to just… hide it all?”

He’d give you that dazzling smile of his and gently tap your nose with a finger, “hiding everything behind a smile is better than being a husk of a person. I know there’s a constant happiness deep down in you, I’ve seen it and it’s absolutely beautiful. C’mon,” he’d start to jab your sides lightly, “give me a smile!”

You’d shove his hands away from you with a small, genuine smile. He’d then haul you up to your feet and lead you out of the mines, pulling you behind him as he ranted constantly about what he had planned for you both for the day with his signature blinding smile. 

But that didn’t happen.

Soon enough, you were holding nothing in your tight grasp and your face was hovering midair with something coming to rest in your lap. As you pried your eyes open and saw the bloodied pickaxe that laid in your lap and the blood that covered your clothes and slicked your hands, a guttural scream ripped itself from your throat. You’ve never screamed so loudly or so intensely; you were unsure if the copper you tasted in the back of your throat was from your fried vocal cords or from Lucius. 

You stayed in that spot crying until you couldn’t anymore. The full reality of the situation hit you as you finally found your way out of the cave after days of wandering. Not knowing where else you could go, you stumbled to Schlatt and Quackity’s house. 

The second Quackity opened the door and saw you sobbing and splattered with blood looking like you haven’t eaten or drank anything in days, he immediately took you into their household and sat you on the edge of the bathtub. He was the one that cleaned the blood off from your face with a warm washcloth and held you to his chest after you cried out when the feeling of the warm water was too similar to the blood that had splattered your face days before. 

Schlatt had been the one to coax you to eat something after you had passed out in Quackity’s arms, whether due to lack of sleep or nourishment, you didn’t know. Alongside that, he was the first one you talked to about a couple of days into your stay with them. 

Though you never told them what happened to your late best friend and what you did to him, they fully supported you and slowly nursed you back to the point where you could keep yourself alive without their constant aid. Whenever you’d have nightmares of the incident, Schlatt would be quick to make you realize that you were in their guest bedroom and not deep inside of a mineshaft while Quackity would stay by your side throughout the night softly humming small tunes. 

Though everything came crashing down when Philza showed up at their door one day and drugged you home, your time with them solidified your suspicions that you could be loved. 

You blunk, the scene of the blood spattered stone being replaced with your office and the very boy you accidentally killed cowering in the far corner of your room. He was staring at you like you were a starving lion and he was a cornered gazelle, watching your every move vigilantly. You couldn’t blame him, he was in the same room with his murderer after all.

“...I didn’t mean to kill you; I was terrified at the time, I couldn’t believe that I killed my best friend. Hell, I even killed myself because of the guilt.” 

Though a brief flash of sadness reflected across his face, he hadn’t budged from his place with his eyes still trained on you, “t-the past doesn’t matter. Do you regret it now?”

You once again paused, the question of ‘do you regret it’ circulating your mind once more. If Lucius hadn’t died that day, you wouldn’t be the person you were today; you’d still be getting stepped on by everyone. You’d still be a coward, a spineless nobody. You wouldn’t be happy. 

Though you hated yourself for even thinking about this, you questioned if you were truly happy here. You had everything you’ve ever wanted here: the power that you craved, a surefire means of getting your revenge, and living with the person that had constantly supported you. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was missing. Yes, you’ve felt like that your entire life, but lately it felt like a massive, evergrowing void from deep within your core was swallowing everything within you. Maybe Lucius was right. Maybe-

“Why are you hesitating?!” Your eyes snapped to Lucius, surprised at his outburst. Now instead of the petrified look on his face just moments before, a spiteful one replaced it. “Why the fuck are you hesitating?” 

“Lucius-” 

A bitter chuckle interrupted you, “the fact that you’re hesitating tells me everything I need to know. I really thought the real you was somewhere deep within you, but you were right! This is the real you... You really are the monster everyone says you are.” 

Before you could say anything, he fazed through the door leaving you standing in the middle of your desolate office. It felt like a spike was driven through your heart, you never would’ve expected Lucius to say anything like that. Not Lucius, never Lucius.

The pleasure that coursed through your veins previously during the argument had long since fleeted and been replaced with something you vowed to never feel again: regret. Disgust hit you full force as you remembered the delight and satisfaction that filled you at the sight of his fear. Your first and closest friend that stuck with you through thick and thin, his utter fear gave you pleasure. You really were a monster, weren’t you?

A knock sounded at your door, making you jump out of your skin. 

“(Y/n), it’s time for our session.” Dream’s voice sounded through the thick doors. You sighed and looked at your suit, you weren’t even dressed properly. 

“I’m not ready yet, I will be in about five minutes.” Your tone wavered slightly, making you hope that Dream wouldn’t comment on it.

“Is everything alright? I’m coming in.” 

The door opened to reveal Dream wearing his usual lime green hoodie and his signature smiling mask. His curls bounced as he made his way over to you and examined your face. 

“You look like shit,” he mused, “you know, you don’t need that ghost. He’s just been holding you back this entire time.” 

“Well,” you crossed your arms and looked off to the side, “he isn’t in the picture anymore.” 

He was silent for a moment before he walked over to your couch and sat down haphazardly, gesturing for you to do the same. When you did, he hummed, “you know, Lucius isn’t the only one holding you back from your full potential.”

“Who is then?” 

“Schlatt.” 

Schlatt’s name sent ice through your veins, your fingers growing numb and your throat drying up. 

Just as you opened your mouth to object, Dream raised a finger to silence you. “He can’t even run his own country that he claims to be so proud of. In fact, he’s making you do all his dirty work while he gets drunk off his ass, not even recognizing you for your work. Everything you’ll ever do, even if you half ass it, is always going to surpass him at his best... He’s going to fire you soon, you know.”

You felt truly helpless in that moment, “what? He needs me, he-”

“As soon as the war ends, he’s just going to toss you aside just like everyone else in your life has. Just like Philza has, and now just like Quackity, the Badlanders, and Lucius has. But…” 

He turned his head towards you and tilted it slightly. You hesitated before clearing your throat, “but what?” 

“I can help you. I won’t throw you out like you’re a piece of garbage; I’m not a brain dead idiot like they are. I see your potential, and you’re going to absolutely thrive if you accept my help.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “...what’s the catch?” 

“Ever the vigilant one; so wary of the world at such a young age, so smart,” he chuckled to himself. “What you have to do is simple, not even a moron like Schlatt could fuck it up. I’ll do all the work here, all you have to do is pledge your undying loyalty to me. Of course, you could stay here,” he released a long sigh, “and waste your potential while simultaneously inevitably getting abandoned, or you could break the cycle by working with me and reaching your full potential; I’ll never abandon you like they all did. Are you in?” 

He stuck his hand out towards you and held it in the air, waiting for you to seal the deal. You stared at it as you contemplated his offer. 

Though the thought of Schlatt throwing you out crushed your heart, you wouldn’t be lying if you said you expected him to do so sooner or later. With his ever growing dependence on alcohol, his judgement has grown increasingly more clouded. The furthest corner of your mind acknowledged that he was going to abandon you sooner or later as the abuse got worse, but your conscious mind refused to even think about him not being in your life. 

Maybe it was time to turn a new leaf, Dream had said that you hadn’t reached your full potential yet and everything here was holding you back. You trusted him, he had proved to be a good mentor and a good person during your training sessions. He proved to genuinely care about you. 

“Well, are you in or not? I’d hate to see such potential get wasted because someone is stuck in the past.” 

You slapped your hand into his and shook it firmly, “I’m in.” 

His mask lifted up slightly as he smiled underneath it. He shook your hand and matched your firmness, “excellent.”

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[writing-in-april]

Dressed in Crimson

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Royalty AU)

Summary: Spencer is a stable boy with a passion for learning and Reader is the princess of the palace that he serves in. They’ve been in a secret relationship, the two grow restless about not being able to be out in the open.

A/N: Guys I’m so excited for this one I really really loved writing it- it’s my fourth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April and it’s also written for @omgbigfluffwriting !!! I kinda immersed myself into this quite a bit- and it’s my longest oneshot I’ve ever written 🤭The specific historical period theyre in is not specified and the world that they’re in is entirely fictional and not based on any specific point in history- if you’ve ever watched Merlin that’s kinda the vibe I was thinking of just without the magic lol (please still ignore that the gif does not have an accurate clothing choice from Spencer I just wanted a good shot of his hair that I thought of while writing this) i feel like it’s becoming so obvious how much I love historical fiction lol 😂 I’d like to hear from you guys also so if you want to drop me an ask here! It can be about anything 🥰 hope y’all enjoy!!!

Warnings: 18+, Reader has a horrible Father, subtle hints about sexism, Classism, Period typical clothing, Reader and Spencer fight for a little bit, Smut, Dom Spencer, Fingering, Handjob, Unprotected Sex, Day dreaming about fucking in public, Spencer’s possessive as hell, Ignoring the potential consequences of a creampie

Main Masterlist Word count: 4.7k

My day started out like any other with my corset made of whalebone being cinched tightly around my figure with my chemise underneath of course. Every time the ends of the laces were pulled taught on my body I thought of the days where I could get away with not having this wretched piece of clothing cutting off my breath. Those days had been so long ago, when I was just a small child, almost so long ago that I had to strain my memory to recall it. It wasn’t even until I was done clutching my mother’s skirts before I started to be forced into the confines of the worst invention in history. I would have rather muck in the mud in pants like the men, unless there was a reason for me to actually want to wear a dress.

Today, I had chosen a crimson colored gown, one of my only favorites. The front of the bodice was adorned with embroidery, one embroidered with a glistening gold thread. The sleeves were long and ever so slightly off my shoulders, ending just at my wrist. It had been perfectly handcrafted just for me, a seamstress being hired to slave away at each detail with precision. If it had been up to my father the seamstress would have been paid little to nothing for this masterpiece, but you had your own coins stashed away from your allowance to give extra to anyone that gave you goods and services.

The dress was my favorite almost solely because of someone else’s appreciation for the lush fabric, no one needed to know about that though. I did like to look nice on certain occasions, but only special ones. There was no special occasion scheduled for me to have a reason for wearing it, well none that the greater majority of the court would know about.

Only my maid Emily knew what my excursion would be today, why I dressed up so nicely. There was no feasible way for me to hide my dalliances from her, especially the one I was about to go to as it required some higher levels of stealth to be able to evade my father’s guards.

His name was Spencer, one of my father’s stable boys. I loved him more than anything, definitely more than any potential match that was arranged for me.

I gifted him whatever I could without raising suspicion, though I often hid my purchases if someone asked by excusing them as more frivolous in nature, such as a new dress. Spencer had no real need for pretty things as he’d said before, except from myself- those were his past words not mine. And, he did express to me how much he loved the dress I was wearing right now, which was tied to how we had first met.

When I first met him I had been looking for a fabric in the market stalls. I hadn’t really wanted to, I was content with all the dresses that I owned right now, they had no ornament on them, just how I preferred. However, my father demanded I get something fancier for some sort of frivolous ball that was coming up that undoubtedly had no reason to take place besides bleeding everyone else dry.

I brushed hands with him for the first time as I was looking for the material I wanted, something just fancy enough to appease my father. The stall filled with fabrics bordered one that had stacks of books, I would have much preferred to be looking at that one. My hand had gotten close to the edge while I was inspecting a fabric and it had bumped into a man who was looking at one of the books.

When I had looked up to see who had brushed my hand I was met with frantic eyes filled with apology. His stuttered apology had covered my attempt to assure him that it was fine, it had taken me grabbing both of his hands to steady him for him to listen to my reassurance.

When he had introduced himself to me after I asked it flowed into a long conversation. I could have talked to him forever, I would be content to never talk to anyone else. For a stable boy he was exceptionally smart, which I learned was from his mother who had made sure he was educated even in poverty, specifically through having him read anything she could get her hands on. From then on our blossoming friendship had flourished, and had eventually developed into more.

I slung a shawl over my shoulders made out of a fabric of similar color to my gown and also grabbed a purse filled with coins with a smile due to my reminiscing . It wasn’t cold enough for one of my velvet cloaks just yet and most of the walk down to where Spencer was housed was indoors.

The walk from my rooms in the main part of the castle to the stables on the lower floor towards the East end was longer than I would have wanted. Truthfully, I wished I would not have to live in a castle at all, I’d rather live in the small house that Spencer lived. It was just past the castle grounds at the edge of the surrounding village adjacent to the stables so he did not have to walk far for work in the mornings.

My feet tiptoed down the corridors carefully, I was lucky that I had figured out to be somewhat light on my feet otherwise I’d be caught swiftly for sure. I passed by the rooms of most of the lords and ladies staying at court, I always wondered why some chose to stay here, it was positively suffocating here. The door I used to go outside was through the kitchen, that had a myriad of breakable things strewn about that I had to stealthily avoid. Luckily, I knocked nothing over that would have woken up the cooks who slept just a room over. Turning the handle of the door had to be a slow process so no one would hear the creak of the knob while it was turned, but I did successfully make it out with no disturbance.

Beginning the stretch of my journey that was outdoors was perhaps the most risky. Guards were stationed around the perimeter of the castle in greater numbers compared to the ones indoors which were only stationed by important rooms. I weaved my way through, in some aspects it was even more confusing than the inside of the castle. Hiding behind each of the pillars was the most effective way to avoid them, the construction of them making a series of small blind spots. I had just snuck behind one of the last ones when one of the guards nearest to me moved forward a little. I stopped breathing immediately, holding it tight in my chest while I plastered myself as close as I could to the back of the pillar. My nails dug into the stone of the pillar in fear, if I was ever to be found sneaking out at night or worse in the presence of Spencer, I would either never leave my rooms again or be whisked away into marriage even earlier than planned.

When the guard did not move to investigate further I let go of the breath I was holding, still making sure to let go of it slowly so he could not hear me. Moving swiftly forward after I had taken a breath was a bit of a challenge, my knees had gone weak with fear. I pushed myself to take each step even with the weakness in my knees, there was no way I could linger any longer.

Finally I was no longer walking on stone, I was walking on the muddy earth now. It was nice to feel the ground under my feet instead of the harsh stone, it told me that I was now only a handful of strides away from Spencer’s home.

The leaves littering the ground mixing with mud crunched under my feet even as I tip toed carefully. The guards may be in the distance now, but I didn’t feel keen on testing how good their hearing may potentially be.

Passing the stables was the last marker for my journey, then I would be able to see his home too. As I passed the sleeping horses by anticipation began to replace the fear inside me. It had been a while since I had been able to come see him, making me yearn for his touch even more.

His home came into view, even in the dead of night I could make it out if I squinted my eyes hard. My pace picked up exponentially when I landed my eyes on his humble abode. It was a quaint home, fallen into disrepair as he could not afford to fix it on the meager salary that my father paid him. The purse of gold that I had brought with me was exactly for that, the repairs. He would most likely protest the gift just like any other thing I had tried to gift him. From my experience the most effective way to get him to accept anything was to leave it there with no conversation about it. I think it made him feel less guilty even though in my opinion he was owed the money in the first place, no one should have to live in squalor when they did their job every day without question or complaint.

When I finally was at the entrance of his home I entered through the door swiftly, too impatient to wait or knock. Stress melted from my shoulders when I caught sight of him, hunched over one of the books I had given him, candles strewn around to give him enough light to read.

The candles he had lit to be able to read in the night illuminated us both with a glow. He would always compliment me whenever we found ourselves in similar lighting such as this, but in my opinion there was no rivalry. Each time the candle flickered it brightened up every highlight of him, letting me see his wild curls, brown eyes deeper than any others I had ever seen, and a body that I had no doubt was crafted to perfection illuminated in a beautiful glow.

I went to compliment him just as he always did with me, but I became mesmerized when he stood up, then moving his way closer to me.

“It is nice to see you, it feels like it’s been an eternity.” It may seem dramatic for him to say that it felt that long, but I echoed his sentiment willingly.

“It is nice to see you too, Spencer. I agree it’s been far too long.” I was sure it had been at least a full moon cycle since we had the pleasure of being alone with one another, our duties to my father keeping us separated.

It had been painful whenever I would go out for a ride on my horse, to see him hand me the reins of my mare and be unable to reach out to touch him. There had been one day, about a week ago, that I had let my hand brush against his own for a moment while he handed the reins to me. It was an innocent brush of a touch, that also had a barrier in the form of my leather gloves. To anyone else it had meant nothing, but to me and him, it meant everything.

His eyes were blown wide with desire, as I suspected mine were as well. We let ourselves take in the sight of each other for a minute longer before Spencer broke the silence with a request,

“Drop your shawl, so I may see you better.” A stable hand commanding someone of such a stature such as I would’ve seen him whipped if it was any other person before him. His boldness was not unexpected, it had taken a while for him to grow so comfortable with my company. In truth, he had been quite scared when I had first met him. It was perfectly understandable considering his employer was my father, who was not known for his kindness. And, even then after his fear had faded he still had a shy exterior for a while, it only had been lifted when we began to become extremely comfortable around each other. We were each other's only form of solace in this world, we could only escape our reality when we were together.

Instead of having malice in my voice like other nobles would I simply pulled the shawl more taught around my shoulders and teased, “Why should I?”

The expression on his face was one of the ones I loved seeing on his face the most, a sly smirk. He came closer to me, with careful steps as if he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. We were so close together when he stopped moving, but still not touching. He was playing a game with me, not touching until I obliged him. As he leaned in to speak into the shell of my ear he was careful with the way he tilted his body forward so I could only feel his breath on the small portion of my skin, “Because you like it when I look at you.”

My arms fell to my sides releasing my shawl to fall from my shoulders onto the floor at his words, as they rang true. I did want him to look at me and also, of course touch me.

“You wore your favorite dress.” He observed, still not quite touching. I didn't need to answer the statement he made with the thought in my mind ‘I wore it for you’ because I knew he had already figured that out. His observational skills were keenly honed in by his constant reading whenever he had the chance, often reading books that I had gifted to him. He even sometimes read well into the night, straining his eyes in the darkness when the candle was almost merely a wick. I had found that out the first- and sadly, only time I had the opportunity to stay overnight. Since then I had pushed him to get more rest as I knew how hard he was worked to the bone during the day, courtesy of my father.

His eyes were staring at my dress, pupils blown wide, his mind seemingly off in another world maybe thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me.

“Please, touch me.” I didn’t need to speak loud, only a soft whisper for him to hear me because of how close he already was to me. So close, yet so far.

He raised his large hands, calloused from working so hard day in and day out. My own hands were soft from the expensive creams I had been pampered with since I was just a small child. I liked his hands better, they showed the hard work he used everyday to cultivate his beautiful mind and body.

I subtly licked my lips in anticipation of his touch, wanting to feel every inch of his hand roaming my body, from the tips of his fingers to where his palm met his wrist.

His fingers then started to trace over the top of my corset, just a hair away from touching the swell of my breasts. My chest was rising and falling with each breath, each inhale pushing it slightly closer to his fingers. With each fall of my chest I felt the need to quickly let go of my breath, so I could once again inhale and be brought closer to his touch.

“Please touch me.” I repeated, breathless from forcing myself to breathe into his touch.

“I am touching you.” His fingers still did not move to touch my skin, only the crimson accented in gold. It was his turn to tease me now, I was at his mercy, ready and waiting for it.

I could beg again, though quite obviously I could not convince him with it. As he was running his fingers over the cloth for what felt like the millionth time, still not touching me, I teased him back instead of begging, “No you are touching my dress.”

A mere ghost of a touch from his fingers then floated across my skin. What should have calmed my heaving chest from my gasping breaths only served to make my breathing even heavier. The slight touch was still not enough, only making my desire for his hands to roam every inch of my body even more severe.

“Perhaps I should take your corset off, to help you breathe better.” He said, as if he read my exact thoughts.

“I like your thinking.”

I was then spun around so my back was pressed into his chest. It soothes my desire for his touch some, but we both had barriers of cloth preventing me from fully feeling him. I could feel some of the warmth that was hidden underneath his shirt, which was made up of a much billowing white linen that compared to his trousers.

If my skirts were not so large I wondered if I were to push back if my behind would come in contact with his cock and whether or not his desire would be as prominent as the slickness dampening the bottom layer I was wearing. I’d have to find a way to find a pair of trousers then, sometime soon, so I could try to grind into him at a later date. There was no doubt that we’d surely find ourselves in a similar position again.

As his hands started to undo the laces of my corset with care, despite both of our desperation, a thought slipped out from his lips that I’m sure he intended to keep to himself, “I wish I could call you mine in public.”

“My father would kill you!” The taste of my voice would have been bitter in anyone’s mouth, quickly spat out in the same way I said those words. Perhaps my quick anger to his innocent thought would be insane to some, most would probably consider it a sweet thought. However, he knew from previous conversations that when those sweet thoughts were expressed that all I could feel was a heavy sadness sitting inside me, instead of desire.

Tears clouded my vision, so much so that I did not see Spencer’s arms come around me to envelop me in an embrace. I flinched a bit at first, but then melted when I realized it was him. We held each other for a while as I sobbed softly into his billowy white shirt.

He stroked my shoulder with his large hands that I loved, but the corset he had not taken off fully yet was blocking me from feeling his touch the way I wanted.

“Take it off please.” I begged softly, I wanted to feel his skin on mine, and not just his lips or his hands. I wanted to feel every inch of him.

The laces of my corset were already half undone because of his previous attempt at getting it off of me. He finished the job, pulling the corset off of my body, tossing it down to the floor. He may have loved the dress, but he was showing me through his actions that he loved what was underneath more.

Turning me around was his next step, so he could properly kiss me. The pressure was soft at first, as if he was testing the waters to see how I would feel. Feeling his soft lips on my own just made me want to pull him in further, and I did so. My fingers tangled into his curls as the kiss devolved into pure passion, we were both throwing ourselves fully into it, trying to express our feelings nonverbally.

His own hands moved to cup my breasts as he backed me into the cot he slept on every night. I did not let him push me down on the bed so he was on top of me like normal, this time I wanted to be on top for a while. When I straddled his hips the first thing I felt was his cock straining in his pants. I unbuckled them so I could wrap my hands around his cock, I wanted to feel his thick and heavy length in my hands. Precum was already dripping down his hard cock as I pumped his length with my hands. My own arousal was dampening the underneath of the skirt I still had on. Spencer confirmed it himself when he snuck his fingers underneath the fabric to play with my pleasure spots. We both groaned as his fingers entered inside me while he rubbed circles into my swollen pearl.

My skirt was bunched up in his hands, pulling up all the way to the tops of my thighs. He soon got fed up with the skirt being in the way though and maneuvered me to shuck it off of me as fast as possible. Being bare before him did not make me wither in self consciousness, it made me lean into his touch even more.

He leaned up to kiss me again while I grabbed his length and restraddled him. I was definitely wet enough to have him enter me, my separation from him making me desperate, it had been so long since we had the chance to be together like this.

I then sunk down on his length slowly, it was for me to adjust to his size and to relish in the feeling of him sliding inside me. I stilled on top of him as the back of my thighs hit the top of his, he filled me with perfection. Spencer only let me be still for a little while before his hands gripped my hips and started to guide me to roll my hips. The pace I set- well Spencer was the one who set it, was slow and deep, I was languidly rolling my hips while he thrusted up into me at a similar pace.

My face twisted in pleasure as his thrusts became more powerful, still at the same pace but with more force behind them.

“Fuck- I want everyone to know that you’re mine!” It was the exact same thing he had spoken to me earlier that had sparked anger and melancholy inside me. This time it caused a spark of pleasure instead, making me think about him fucking me in front of everyone claiming me as his.

“My father would kill you.” This time when I said it it was gasped into his mouth with little to all anger disappeared from it.

My words made Spencer growl which was swallowed by a possessive kiss. He then flipped me over roughly, my back now pressed into the cot. A high pitched squeak had escaped my lips unintentionally in surprise, it was quickly changed into a moan when he entered me again. This time the pace did not start off slow as I did not need to adjust to him inside of me.

“I don’t care.” His speech was agitated as he pounded into me, holding my legs open with both hands spreading me out for him to see everything, “No matter what anyone says or does, you’re mine.”

Pleasure sparked through me at his possessive words, I grabbed desperately at the cotton sheets trying to hold onto something as my finish was fast approaching. When the cotton sheets were not enough of a stabilizer for me I lifted my hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him close.

“Come on I know you’re close, I’m close too baby.” My nails dug into his neck and back during the latter half of his sentence causing him to slightly wince. I knew he enjoyed it though because of the question that he groaned out next, “Can I cum inside you?”

Biting my lip hard was painful as I nodded my head in response to his question that had me falling over the edge. The consequences of him finishing inside me danced in the back of my head, I chose to ignore them as he did. I did not care as he filled me and I rode out my release, even if I was to somehow get pregnant because of our recklessness it did not matter. I’d gladly have his child, even if it meant I’d have to go on the run.

Instead of falling on top of me directly after finishing like I’ve heard most men do with their wives he gently removed himself from my entrance and laid down beside me on the cot. Bliss was mingling in the air between us, both unburdened by any of our problems that would become a reality as soon as I left for the night. For now we would just hold onto the bliss until it was cruelly snatched away from reality.

Spencer had a solution as always to our problems, and seemed to be thinking about the same thing I was with his next suggestion,

“Run away with me.” We were both covered in sweat that had cropped up from our activities, a contrast to the chilly air outside and in the castle. It was nice to feel warm every time I was in his arms, It was hard to resist being greedy and deciding to stay in his arms forever. It had crossed my mind more than once, but there was always something stopping me from going through with it fully. I opened my mouth to point out all the reasons why that would not be possible when he added, “And, before you say no I want to ask- what’s stopping you?”

His reasoning was sound, as it often was. My mouth opened and closed, struggling to find a reasoning before I accepted that he was right. The only potential downfall was my father’s forces searching everywhere to find me, but it would be worth it. We could also easily cross the border into nearby lands ruled by someone else that was not in alliance with him. I already felt lighter thinking about being free from the confines of the castle- and hopefully my corset. Though I would have to keep the crimson dress I wore today, even if I only wore it around him, It was his favorite and it symbolized the day that we met. He glanced over at me just as I did the same, looking right into his eyes as I spoke,“Alright.”

The light that sparked in his eyes made my heart soar, I could feel just from his gaze how ecstatic he was to spend his life with me. I didn’t need any words to know how much he loved me.

We basked for a moment in the presence of our love, Spencer broke the silence again when he started planning,“You need to go pack!”

I moved myself to sit up even though my limbs protested, wanting to sleep after our post coital bliss. A soft smile was exchanged between the two of us, “I’ll pack light, only the stuff I need.”

The purse of gold I had brought for him would no longer be used to fund his repairs, but to fund our life together. I climbed on top of him again leaning forward to capture him in a kiss that was much more chaste than the ones earlier in the night.

“I. love. you.” He whispered in between kisses making my eyes wet with tears. They weren’t born out of sadness, but of happiness that I had someone to love me as much as Spencer did.

“I love you too, I will see you soon.” I pulled myself away from his lips even though I did not want to, I then got up to leave reluctantly. Though it was easier than previous departures as I knew that it would be the last one that I would have to complete. My whole being was lighter and happier than I had ever felt before as I snuck back with a spring in my step. The only hint of what I was about to do, where I was about to go, was the mud stained at the hemline of my crimson dress.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (why wont tumblr let me tag you😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb @jakobsdump

[rocorambles]

Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg. 

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter. 

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world. 

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again. 

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in. 

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him. 

A sorcerer. 

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here? 

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind. 

“Who are you?” 

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in. 

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own. 

And that thought festers and grows inside of him. 

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage. 

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies. 

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize. 

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together. 

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.  

 You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left. 

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets. 

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters. 

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together. 

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes. 

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf. 

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down. 

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.” 

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms. 

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook. 

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots. 

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air. 

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls. 

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him. 

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago. 

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.  

[fandomficsnstuff]

Special

Ivar x Reader

(Warnings: None I think, but let me know if ya’ll want a part two!:3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You continued to pick herbs, placing them in the basket you had with you and were about to get up when you heard a twig snap, your body freezing for a few seconds before you forced yourself to relax. It's probably just a deer, or a rabbit that went over a fragile stick, you told yourself, feeling your heart slowly begin to beat it’s normal rhythm again. You got up and continued searching the forest ground, bending every now and then and picking up herbs and mushrooms, though something caught your eyes, stopping you from your daily herb and mushroom picking, bending down and brushing off the moss and dirt that was hiding it, letting your basket on the forest ground as you kneeled down, the ground felt cold and a bit wet, since it was still early in the morning. Digging out the shiny thing that caught your eyes, you finally got it loose, brushing off the dirt and moss, blowing it away and examining it. It was a smooth rock, almost like glass, in the shape of none other than Odin, at least that’s how it looked to you. It was in the shape of a man with something covering it’s left eye, a viking helmet on it’s head, a hole in the rock right by the heart, under the ribs, made you sure it was Odin.

You turned the rock in your hand, examining the back of it, seeing nothing special you turned it back, brushing off some more dirt and continuing to examine it, so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear something approach you, it was only when you heard a voice behind you that you jumped a few feet “what is that?” you turned to see the owner of said voice, none other than Ivar, Ivar the Boneless, the youngest Ragnarson, your childhood friend. Once you had regained your composure you hit his arm “don’t scare me like that!” you scolded, Ivar looking at you confused “don’t be so easy to scare then” he snapped back, nodding at the rock in your hand “what is it?” he asked again, making you remember the smooth, cool stone in your hand, and a grin made it’s way onto your lips, a grin that secretly made Ivar’s heart beat faster, but he ignored it, like he always did. You leaned closer to show him the object in your hand, and Ivar could smell that sweet scent that always followed you everywhere, the scent that was unique to you, and you only.

He tore his eyes from you and to the thing in your hand “it’s Odin!” you said with excitement in your voice, and Ivar frowning, taking the stone from your hand and examining it for himself, turning it like you did to examine the back before looking at the front of it again “it is, do you know what that means, (Y/N)?” Ivar asked with a smirk as he gave it back to you, watching you shake your head no, which he thought looked adorable “it means you are special, Odin has chosen a great destiny for you, and you only, you are favoured by him” Ivar explained, and the way your eyes lit up and your cheeks flush with heat made his heart soar higher than the clouds. “You are teasing me, Ivar, it does not mean I’m special, I was just lucky enough to find it” you gently shoved his arm, and Ivar instantly frowned at your words, catching your gaze with his serious one “I do not joke about the Gods, (Y/N), you are favoured by them, special, it is a sign from Odin himself that you will do great things” Ivar made sure you knew he meant each word, and the sweet, adorable grin you gave him made him think he had died and gone to Valhalla “then I’m special like you, Ivar” you said in a sweet voice, and now Ivar KNEW he had died, he had gone to Valhalla for sure. Ivar scoffed instead and looked at his legs with a bitter smile “I am not special, I am a cripple, there is a difference” he joked, and now it was your turn to frown and turn serious “you may be a cripple, Ivar, but that does not make you any less special” your tone was just as serious as his was earlier, and for a moment, just a brief moment, he believed you, and you could see it on his face, the way his whole face softened, eyes soft and doubtful.

You got up, picking up your basket and putting the stone down in it “come on, Ivar the Special, let us go back” you smiled at him and began to walk back towards Kattegat, knowing he’d follow, and he did, crawling after you and matching your pace, you were one of the few who did not mind his crawling, or feared him. When you were younger you would even crawl around like him, at first he remember thinking you were mocking him like everyone else, but when he saw that you just didn’t want him to feel alone and left out, he fell for you, even when he was just a little boy, he fell in love with you, not that he’d ever admit it, remind you, he never would, at least not aloud, too scared that you would hear it, that you would judge him, laugh at him like everyone else.

He was too lost in thought to hear your voice, but luckily you always had the patience of the Gods, you simply bent down and gently nudged his shoulder to get his attention, it always worked, his eyes darting up to meet yours, about to apologize for not listening when you cut him off “so, were you looking for me, Ivar, or did you simply stumble across me?” you asked, making him smile and scoff as he continued to crawl, the two of you reaching the borders of Kattegat. Unlike so many others, you were not embarrassed being seen walking by him, you did not even react to their gazes “yes, I came looking for you-”

“How romantic” you joked, Ivar scoffing, hearing you giggle a bit, the sweetest music to his ears, Siggurd could only ever dream of playing something that compared in beauty. “As I was saying; yes, I came looking for you, I wanted to tell you something” he began to grow a bit nervous but kept his gaze away from you, making sure you couldn’t outright see it, but you were currently looking at the different things in the stalls in Kattegat, looking at the available things, “what is it?” you asked quietly, a necklace catching your eyes, but you knew you couldn’t afford it, so you put all your attention back on Ivar, who was already looking at you “that… that drink you made, the other day, for my pain… I was wondering if-” you cut him off by lifting your basket, showing it to him “what did you think I was doing out there?” you asked in a playful voice, Ivar outright blushing at the fact that you had thought ahead and had gone out of your way to gather the herbs and mushrooms ahead of time. “Come, I will make it for you, I made sure to pick more than needed, I can teach one of your slaves to make-”

“No. I’d… rather have you make it… they will only get it wrong” Ivar said the last bit to not sound so… sentimental… he always seemed softer around you, more careful with his words, he was truly himself, the wounded, broken, Ivar, instead of the angered cripple Ivar. You smiled and opened the door to your home, letting Ivar inside and closing the door after going inside, you took the Odin stone and put it on your dinner table, gathering the herbs and mushrooms, getting out a knife and cutting them up, squashing the mushrooms and making the sap run into a cup, placing the cut up herbs and mushrooms in the cup too, pouring some water in and putting it over the lit fire, sitting down next to Ivar, who had pulled himself up on a chair, fiddling with the stone. You took this opportunity to study him, his handsome features, everything from his nose, to his lips, his cheekbones, chin, brow, hair, everything, but mostly his eyes, his beautiful, beautiful eyes, you could get lost in them easily, and you would, if only you could.

His eyes moved up to meet yours and you instantly looked away, feeling heat burning your cheeks, daring to glance back at him to see him still looking at you, “so, do you think it looks like Odin?” you said, clearing your throat and fiddling with your own fingers, your eyes downcast, not daring to meet his gaze again, “I already said I did” Ivar said in an annoyed voice, making you feel smaller than you were. Ivar had this ability, he could make someone feel so small, so unimportant with just the tone of his voice, and that was how you felt now, eyes downcast at his demeaning voice, for all of his beauty, all of his talent and kindness towards you, he had his moments where he could seem cruel, but you always shook it off, you knew he didn’t mean it that way, so bearing that in mind you shrugged “you could have lying” you looked back up at him as you spoke, seeing him still looking at you, but this time you didn’t look away “so what makes you think I would not lie to you now?” Ivar asked smugly, a smirk on his lips as he studied you, another gift he had, he could play with people, like dolls, read their thoughts, read THEM, it never stopped amazing you, but you kept your composure, shrugging “your eyes, Ivar, you are clever, more clever than any other man alive I think, but no one can lie with their eyes” you shrugged once more as you spoke, watching his eyes as realization kicked in, his smirk growing bigger, eyes narrowing as he took you in “maybe you are not as dumb as you look” Ivar joked halfheartedly, making you roll your eyes and scoff “thank you, Ivar, you really know how to talk to a woman” you got up and checked the tea, hearing him chuckle low “I know, it’s a gift” Ivar joked back, now it was your turn to chuckle “among other things” you mumbled, getting out a cup and carefully pouring the tea into it, making sure not too many herbs and cut up mushrooms made their way into the actual drink.

You gave him the warm tea, sitting down across from him again “I will have to teach you to make it one day, if you really think your slaves will get it wrong, what happens if I am not around and you need it?” you half-joked, but you were also serious, seeing Ivar take a sip and shrug “I won’t need to learn it, I will have you” Ivar said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, your smile fading as you looked down at your hands “Ivar… I’m getting married…” you barely got the words out, Ivar spitting the tea he was drinking out, staring at you with wide eyes, but you kept looking at your hands “my father… he has found a good match… he does n’t live that far away from here, a day's ride at most, but he is rich, and says he will pay for my hand in marriage…” you explained, not daring to meet the eyes of Ivar. You weren’t dumb, you knew who Ivar was, he was bloodthirsty, he could be cold and cruel and demeaning, but he had never been those things towards you, he had always been kind to you, you knew of the things that troubled him, and he knew of the things that troubled you. After a longer silence you were about to add something when the door opened, your head turning to see your father home, who grinned widely at Ivar “Prince Ivar, what a pleasure!” he said cheerfully, not reading the room correctly.

You moved your gaze back to your hands, the situation growing ever awkward as your father just walked in, giving you a peck on the top of your head and putting his fishing gear away. “No” Ivar said suddenly, making both you and your father look at him confused, or well, for you it was more of a shock “you are not a slave or a horse, so why are you being sold like one?” Ivar sounded outraged, as if he was personally offended, your eyes growing ever wider, especially as your father got up and slowly walked towards Ivar, not in a threatening manner at all, but more of a confused one, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out the situation “Prince Ivar, I am not sure I know what you’re-”

“Do you even love him, hm? Do you even find him handsome, would he be a good husband? Do you know that? Do you even know if he would lay a hand on her or not, or do you just offer her to whoever has the most riches?” Ivar now looked at your father, who was in utter shock, before looking back to you, and you knew he wanted an answer “I’ve… never met him, Ivar” your voice was timid, again, you weren’t stupid, you knew how violent Ivar could get, but even when it was you who annoyed him, he never hit you, so now you were more fearing for your father, your eyes meeting Ivar’s eyes once again, seeing them full of rage “you have not met him? How can you know if he will be good to you? How do you know, hm? Did he send a letter, saying he would be good to you?” Right now Ivar was more rambling than actually wanting answers, but your father made the mistake of thinking that he did “I’ve met him and-”

“Good, at least one of you has” Ivar said with false joy, throwing his hands up and leaning back in his chair “but you are not the one marrying him, are you?” Ivar asked, doing that thing where his tone made people feel small, and your father, a real viking, tall and strong, looked down almost ashamed, “how can you send her off like this? You know what? I want to meet him, go, get him, bring him here for me to meet” Ivar said casually, crossing his arms and relaxing in his seat, leaving you to glance at your dad as he quickly went outside to get his horse. Everyone knew Ivar wasn’t one you should disobey or anger, even your strong, tall, muscular father knew this, he had fought with Ragnar, slain many christians, but even he knew when to obey.

“Ivar, what are you going to do when you meet him, hm? Kill him?” you asked in a slightly scolding voice, Ivar avoiding your gaze, looking like a stubborn child, which made you sigh in annoyance “why do you even care, Ivar? I can still visit you, I can still make the tea” you continued, Ivar just furthering his gaze from you, making you sigh annoyed again, getting up “what are you going to do, Ivar?” you asked again, your back leaning against the kitchen table, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him carefully, you could practically hear him thinking, but when he didn’t answer you, you buried your face in your hands and nearly screamed “Ivar! Answer me!-”

“Do you love him?” his voice was so calm, his gaze still not meeting yours as you looked at him, eyes wide, partly in shock and partly in confusion “no, Ivar, I have never met him…” you pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes to try and relieve yourself of your new found headache. Ivar mulled over your words for a second, leaning over the table, arms resting on it in consideration, and for a moment, just a single moment, he was about to ask you if you would marry him instead, but he didn’t, he simply sat in silence with you, even as it grew dark outside. As it grew dark you began to make some soup, none of you having said a single word yet as you served it to him, but he barely touched it, which just concerned you even more, and you finally decided that enough was enough, putting your spoon down and leaning back in your chair “Ivar, what is wrong? Why do you not want me to marry him? It is not the first time a father will arrange a marriage for his daughter, and it will not be the last time. I am not happy about it but I have nothing else, Ivar, the only things I have are you and now that stone I found, that is all, I have nothing else” you explained, your voice sad, and your face made it even more showing, Ivar finally looking at you, studying you as you looked down, gently biting your lower lip in thought, and he felt awful, not only for treating your father like a slave, since he knew you loved him, but also because of your own words, you had nothing, you had no wealth, your father was a fisherman who occasionally went on raids and you picked and sold herbs, he did not even pay you for the tea you made him. He sighed and leaned forward, arms resting on the table as he looked at the wood as if it had committed a terrible crime against him, your eyes moving to him at his sigh and staying on him, waiting for him to speak, patiently “I do not want you to be unhappy” Ivar admitted, and you sighed, leaning over the table, your hand on his arm, catching his attention “thank you, Ivar, but maybe I will be happy, maybe he will be a good husband” your words were meant as comfort, but only served to make him feel worse, but as he always did, he hid his pain “I bet he is ugly” Ivar sneered, making you laugh at his stupid comment, something that made him smile, just a tiny bit.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a negotiation goes bad, you learn a lesson from a rake, and you receive a long awaited reward. 

wc: 1.9k

tw: none! 

masterlist

It had been a month since you were abducted and taken off to be the property of General Geto Suguru, the Curse-Eater. And it had taken the Imperial Court that entire month before they sent an emissary to negotiate with him. 

When the emissary’s impending arrival had been announced, Nanami - with his blonde hair and piercing gaze - pulled you aside, mumbling:  

“You’re going to see a different side of Geto when the emissary arrives. Don’t be alarmed by his facade, no matter what he does. He has a reputation to uphold.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re preparing to see as Kaori bathes you and fashions your hair so it’s pulled back and out of your face. In the short month together, you’ve gotten only marginally closer to the General, his feather light touches and sweet words staying consistent over time. He protected you when necessary, which included during your appearances at the dinner table where he would be committed to feeding you from his hands still. 

The joke had run its course, despite the occasional appearance of Yuji, who still tried to feed you the odd pieces of fruit or meat when he could. The only consequence he ever received was a slight scolding from Nanami, whereupon he would cry and then be hushed almost immediately by Haibara. Nanami and Haibara had also gotten closer to you than you expected. Nanami turned out to be helpful and rational, and Haibara was always positive, bringing the sunlight with him even when it was thundering and storming outside because, as he put it, “there was always something to be excited about”. 

“Where are Haibara and Nanami from?” you wonder, and Kaori hums in thought. 

“Many of us come from conquered towns where Master Geto overcame Imperial rule. But Nanami and Haibara have always been with him, even in his early days…” 

“And where did the General come from?” 

“You don’t know the story? I assumed everyone knew his origins. I thought he’d tell you, especially.” 

“No, all we are told is that he’s ruthless, eats curses, and loves to burn villages down to the ground. He hasn’t mentioned his mother or even if he has any siblings.” Kaori laughs at your admission, and dips her hands into the soapy hot water before drying them on the towel. 

“He was born in the city of Saighara, which is not too far from the southern border. He’s either conquered every city from there on up to this location, or he’s annihilated them.” 

“What about your village?” you inquire, and Kaori’s eyes lower to her hands, holding a soap bar. 

“I… I don’t know. I was given to Master Geto as part of a peace offering, but we were sent away before he had decided what to do. Neither Nanami nor Haibara know what happened that day, either.” For a moment, you feel immense pity for the woman. She didn’t know if her family was dead or alive, and no one that she was close to could help. 

“Have you tried to ask Gojo?” At the mention of the second-in-command’s name, Kaori fumbles with the soap and drops it into the water. Her cheeks are flushed red, and you wonder for a moment if she has a crush on the white-haired devil, or if the mention of his name brought up a memory she would rather not express. 

“I-I’ve never spoken to him in a familiar way,” she begins. “Besides, he’s Master Geto’s half-brother. If I were to question him about my village’s fate, he might report me. I would rather not know and imagine the best.” You agree with her silently, moving to stand from the bathtub. “In any case, I’ve picked out the best kimono I could find for you. If you don’t like it, please let me know and I’ll make sure I retrieve a new one.” 

You run your hands over the peach-colored silk and then turn back to Kaori, eyes alight. “This is incredibly beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? It has been stowed away for many years - even before I arrived - but I do believe this will be  a flattering color and shape on you for your meeting with the emissary.”

_______________________________________________________________________

When you arrive at the meeting area - which is just the dining hall rearranged so Geto is at the head of the table and not on the far left corner - Nanami places a hand on your back, guiding you to your seat right beside Geto’s. 

“Remain stoic, no matter what either of them say. This isn’t really about you or him - this is about how the Imperial Court wants to appear to an enemy that has something they desperately need.”

“Desperately? Could they not find another match for the princes?” 

“Not quite,” Nanami begins, sliding out your chair. “You were not promised to a specific prince, but--” Haibara bursts into the room, followed closely by Geto, who is fussing with his robes incessantly. Forgetting Nanami instantly, you stand from your seat at the sight of his frustrated expression and hold out your hands for the thing that’s causing him so much stress.

“It’s not right.” Geto sighs and hands you the sash to hang on his left shoulder and down to his right hip, and wordlessly, you rise on your tiptoes to drape it over his head and place it under his other arm. His unruly hair is all over the place, and you consider for a moment if you should ask if he wants it braided. 

“My hair,” Geto gripes just as you finish your thought, and you spin him around to work your magic. 

“Haibara, could you find a ribbon for me?” you ask, leaning over to catch the young man’s gaze. 

“Certainly,” he offers, and walks out of the meeting room purposefully, his own robes flowing behind him in the wind. Nanami takes his place in a corner of the room while you briad swiftly, hoping the emissary wouldn’t find you doing something so familiar with the person who is supposed to be your captor. When you finish the braid, you hold the ends between your fingers, and Geto looks over his shoulder at you as if he is finally seeing you for the first time. 

You catch his eyes and smile up at him, hoping that he would say something about your appearance - anything at all - but Haibara reenters, holding a red ribbon in his hand. 

“Straight from little Nobara’s hair as a gift to you, Lady y/n.” Haibara knees on the ground dramatically and you laugh, plucking the ribbon out of his fingers. 

“Tell Nobara that she is too kind. Master Geto thanks her for her service,” you chuckle, and deftly wrap the material around the end of his hair before stepping back to examine your work. Geto’s shoulders slide down a little, and he takes a deep breath before moving around you to sit in his high backed chair, hands resting on the carved wooden dragon heads on each arm. You also take your seat beside him, and Haibara moves to push you in as Gojo parades inside the hall, waving his hands about as if he were dancing. 

“Emissary Noritoshi, I present you to General Geto Suguru and Lady y/n,” he waves in a younger man with short black hair and closed eyes, the absolute picture of what you imagined an emissary would be like. He enters with a calm demeanor, looking around the room curiously before acknowledging the both of you, bowing slowly when he stops in front of the table. 

“Please, have a seat,” Geto offers, holding his left hand out and motioning to the chair directly across the table. 

“Thank you,” Noritoshi murmurs, sitting easily. “I see you’ve invited the woman in question to our meeting. Would it not be better for her to be with her own kind while we discuss the matter at hand?” 

“As far as I’m concerned,” Geto laces his fingers together in his lap, a sign of restraint; the emissary had already managed to get on his nerves. “This entire conversation would not be taking place without her. So, Lady y/n stays as long as she wants to.” The emissary shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head.

“Then let’s get straight to the point, shall we?” From his robes, Nortitoshi produces a hefty bag of coins and tosses it on the table with a dull thump. “The Emperor is willing to pay her weight in gold if you hand her over to us today.” Geto scoffs, looking over his shoulder at Nanami. 

“I assume that the Emperor does not know how much she weighs, then.” Nanami lets out a rare laugh and you almost do as well, except you remember his advice: 

“Remain stoic, no matter what either of them say.”

“This is merely a fraction of what he will send over if-” Geto cuts the man off with a hand, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Have you seen the size of my camp, Emissary? How do you think I feed all of these men, women, and children? How do you suppose I have well-fed, well-paid servants and maids to attend to my - and her - every whim and need? The only things that separate me from the Emperor’s other sons are a crown and a palace. That’s all.” 

“The Emperor is also willing to add two bed-slaves for you, should that be the reason why you’re holding onto this common girl so tightly.”

“Bed-slaves?” You watch Gojo lean against the table and bow over with silent laughter, his long white hair cascading over the black haori, shaking his head at the audacity of the offer. 

“Then, what do you want?” Noritoshi asks calmly, folding his hands together on the table in front of him. 

“I want my honor back. My crown. My rightful place as heir to the Imperial Court.” 

“General, you know that all of that is not your birthright,” the man states simply. Geto raises a brow, then leans over to you, brushing his lips against your ear. 

“You see how my own father treats me? Even from thousands of miles away, he refuses to give me what is mine.” The effect of his whisper - which is heard by all who are present - isn’t to startle you. It’s to startle Noritoshi, who turns to you in shock. Had the emissary expected you to play along with the role of the woman who pleaded to be set free? Or had he entirely missed the way Geto’s right hand had been placed on your thigh when he walked in?

You don’t make a sound, though, opting to face Geto head on and raise a brow, too. When you both turn your heads to face the young man at the same time, Noritoshi is obviously flustered and unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“General, I- I would advise that y-you--” 

“I already have several advisors; I don’t need another. I think…” Geto places his hand on your thigh again, this time, the motion catching the eye of the man across from you. “I think this meeting has run its course. Gojo, will you make sure that Emissary Noritoshi makes it safely out of our camp?” Gojo stands and nods eagerly, leading a shocked and slightly embarrassed emissary out of the meeting hall. After they leave, Geto slides a hand over his face and sighs. 

“So, what happens next?” you wonder aloud, and he opens an eye. 

“Now? We move camp further North.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​

[halfway-happyyy]

The Girl

Friends, this piece is a bit naughty, so it’s under the cut. It’s also inspired by this ask: 

How he has always possessed the ability to know exactly what she needs without vocalizing it.

How all he must do to see how badly her body yearns for his, is to press his lips to the warm nape of her neck.

How all she has to utter is, “I need you…”

It's late when he arrives home for the evening; the scent of damp pavement from a recent storm floats in on the breeze from the open front door, and she drops her head back for a moment to breathe it in. Dinner is already long but forgotten; a plate of walnut-crusted trout (his own catch from a few weeks ago), blue cheese and bacon brussel sprouts, and roast potatoes sits on a rack in the oven under an all-encompassing warm setting. The flame from a candle wavers in the spring draft beneath her gaze and she sighs contentedly when she hears him enter the kitchen.

He sidles up behind her, his deft fingertips brush the hair back from her shoulder blade as he begins massaging her shoulders. His ministrations are firm- bordering on painful, but she stays rooted to the spot because she knows she'll feel all the better for it in the end. “You're carrying a lot of tension kid,” He murmurs, lowly. “Everything alright?”

She turns in his arms to face him, then. Blueish-violet circles grace the delicate space of skin beneath his beautiful azure eyes, speaking volumes of how much time he's spent on a film set the last few weeks. She fights the urge to trace a fingertip along the deepened creases next to his eyes, and drags a bottom lip between her teeth. She’s managed to keep the feelings at bay most of the day, but now that he's finally home- warm and hard and utterly alive beneath her touch- she is rendered entirely powerless. “I crave you, Alex…” It exits her mouth more strangled and embarrassingly desperate than she wants it to, but luckily for her, it seems to get the point across.

A barely audible noise exits his parted lips before he offers her one last look, and makes for the living room. He doesn't beckon her to follow him but she does regardless, and watches him take a seat in the plush, burgundy chair adjacent to their bay window.  Their home perches high above the city of Los Angeles, a myriad of lights twinkle before them like a starlight-woven tapestry. Alexander clears his throat and pats the top of his black, trouser-clad thigh. “Come here, and I'll see if I can give you what it is that you so desperately need…” She takes a seat atop his thigh; the soft material of his trousers is felt easily through the thread-bare cotton of her sundress. Levelling his piercing gaze with hers, he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “Now what's got you in such a state, hm?” He wraps an arm around her waist to secure her to his lap.

She swallows hard- opens her mouth to answer him but feels his fingertips on the soft skin of her knee and she shudders. They travel lazily up her thigh and he nods his head to encourage her forth.

“I had a dream about you last night. An inexplicably sexy one, and when I woke up this morning you had already left…”

Alexander clicks his tongue, pouting his pink lips up at her. “How unfair… will you share with me what your dream was about baby?”

A shadow falls over her features; she suddenly grows bashful and turns to bury her face in the hollow warmth of his neck.

A soft chuckle erupts from the base of his throat and he squeezes the tender skin of her inner thigh firmly and tries to press her on further. “Did I have my lips on you, gorgeous girl?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth again and nods her head against him. “Yes…”

“Good girl. Did I make you feel good?”

She untucks her head from his neck to gaze at him, and he certainly doesn't miss the sudden burst of pink in her cheeks, or the way her heart thrums a little more wildly in her chest. “So good…” She whispers, earnestly.

She can feel his erection growing in the crotch of his trousers, how hard it swells beneath her thigh.

“And did you touch yourself at all today while I was gone?”

She shakes her head no, and it’s the honest truth.

His fingers travel farther up her thigh, and he groans when he notices her complete lack of panties. “Did you do this for me?”

And what she wants to say is, of course! But all she can manage is a meek nod of her head. He's close to the center of her hot, wet core now. One fingertip away from it, and the urge to grind down against him is overwhelming. He takes a deep breath and swipes the hardened pad of his fingertip over her slit, catches the moisture there and groans loudly at the notion of it. “So wet for me baby. Probably making a huge mess out of these pants, hm?” Her eyes fall shut as a desperate moan escapes her parted lips. Alexander sighs heavily at this and clicks his tongue. “This isn't going to work if your eyes are closed. You're going to be a good girl for me, and watch everything I'm about to do to you, hm?”

She concedes without fuss.

Alexander pushes two fingertips deep into her soaked cunt and leans in to take the velvet softness of her earlobe between his teeth. The fullness of his fingers inside of her, combined with the sensation of his stubble against her cheek; her earlobe as he gently suckles on it, has her trembling violently against him. He pulls away to blow a stream of cool air over her lobe, and admires the goosebumps that rise in patterns over her chest and neck. “How does this compare to your dream?” He smirks.

A breathless laugh escapes her lips and fans a lock of sandy blonde hair out of his eyes. “It doesn't.” She squirms above him as he begins to fuck her more aggressively. She resists the urge to close her eyes as her pleasure builds in her belly. “More,” She suddenly whimpers.

Alexander clicks his tongue, slows the movements of his fingers to an aching crawl. “I beg your pardon? Is that really any way to ask for what you want?”

She swallows hard and tries to grind herself against him, in dire need of more friction. “Please,” She whimpers breathlessly. “More please…”

Alexander hums against her. “I don't know if you can handle a third one, baby. I think it might just be too much for this sweet, little cunt of yours to take…”

“Please…” She whimpers again.

And he finally relents, pushing a third, thick digit into her hot, dripping wetness. His rhythm is lackadaisical at first; followed by a period of a sped-up tempo for a few seconds, with his long fingers hitting her spot every time. Her orgasm builds steadily in the pit of her tummy like a blaze gaining momentum. He can feel it in the way she clenches around him, can see it in the perspiration that blooms over every bare patch of skin on her body. And God, he wants her so bad…

“You're so close for me, sweet girl.” He purrs, softly. She nods her head; her gaze is utterly pleading and glassy and he simply assumes that this is just her looming orgasm taking its toll on her… but then the glass in her eyes turns to tears, which cascade down her flushed cheeks, and he fears for a moment, of coming apart on the spot. “Good girl…” He manages between groans, as he continues to fuck her without abandon. He has a strong hold on her, knows that if he loosens up even the slightest bit, that he'll lose her for good. “Let go for me sweet girl,” He whispers.

She tosses her head back as his words echo through her foggy brain. Her orgasm ripping through her, sending shockwaves of electric pleasure that exit her body in the form of ragged moans and breathless sobs. It takes her a while to recover from her high, but Alexander takes the extra time to wipe away the stray saltwater with the calloused pads of his thumbs. “I don’t think that's ever happened before…” she murmurs lowly, her voice utterly wrecked.

He wraps both of his arms around her protectively, grounding her damp, flushed frame to his, and rests his chin in the crook of her shoulder. The image of her coming apart beneath him plays on like a film in his mind, makes him even more dizzy with need for her than he already had been. He allows himself a deep, steadying breath, cuddling his face ever further into her. “I’m always learning something new about you, my beautiful girl.” A heavy, contented sigh follows in that statement's wake. “I have a feeling I be will until my last, rasping breath.” His brimming, unadulterated admiration for her causes her heart to swell with endless amounts of love.

[redux-iterum]

A Kindling: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Rusty jerked awake and banged his head on the bottom of the armchair he lay under.

His immediate reaction was to hiss and duck down again, silently bemoaning each residual wave of pain between his ears. The armchair, just tall enough to allow him space to crawl underneath, shifted above him. The top of his human’s head appeared upside-down to peer at him curiously, mane dragging on the floor. He blinked at them and they chuffed, eyes crinkled, before the head disappeared again.

Rusty waited for the last achy throb to fade away before he crawled out from underneath the armchair, stopping to stretch between his human’s feet and shake his fur out to the irritating dinging of the bell on his collar. He felt fingers gently scratch at his neck and between his shoulders, to which he responded with an obligatory purr. The fingers lifted away as the human trilled something in a high pitch. Rusty’s pelt brushed against one of their legs as he turned and headed for the next room.

His food was still there, in its bowl. Rusty ignored it completely, even as his stomach gave a hint of a growl. The stuff tasted terrible and never seemed to make him full. Not for the first time, he reminisced about his last home, where he had been given something soft and much more delicious.

His mind started wandering on the topic of new and old sensations, as it always did, and he distantly felt his feet carrying him through the overly-warm kitchen and to the flap in the door he’d learned to use on his first few days in this house. He barely paid attention to where he was going; he was in the throes of his dream, before he had been startled into the waking world.

It was always the same: he would be prowling through a place he had never been, yet felt right at home in. The place changed every time he dreamed. Sometimes the grass was tall enough that he had to rear up to see ahead, sometimes it was unending stone formations that curved oddly smoothly and arched above his path. Usually…

Rusty pushed through the flap into the night, walked across the yard with cut grass that irritated his pawpads, and leaped onto chairs and pots until he was at the top of the fence that separated him from the outside world.

Usually, it was what he saw ahead of him—a thick forest, so dense with trees and ferns and bushes that it was impossible to track any potential trails to follow, and rich with the scents of the wild. Even from this distance, through the dark and the petrichor from the rain, those scents seemed to find him at all times of the day and night.

Rusty breathed deep, enjoying the freshness of the damp earth and the many, many smells he could not identify from the forest. It was close. Very close—

“There you are!”

Rusty blinked in surprise and turned his head to see another kitten in the next yard, who did a much less graceful job of getting up onto his fence, scrabbling and puffing for air every time he had to heft his considerable weight to meet with his friend.

“I didn’t think you’d be out this late, Smudge,” Rusty said once he had finally sat down on the rail and was catching his breath.  

“Well, I was looking for you all day,” Smudge said, letting out one final huff before sitting up straight. “Were you inside the entire time? What were you doing?”

“Ehm…” Rusty cocked his head sideways a little in thought. “Sleeping, I guess. I was having a lot of nice dreams. I suppose I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Very unlike you, bud.” Smudge gave him an amused look. “Even the old homebody down the way asked where you were today. He said you weren’t around to scare his prey off.”

Rusty snorted. “He’s never caught a thing in his life and we all know it.”

“Well, neither have we,” Smudge said. “Just a matter of time with you, though, I suppose.”

Rusty frowned. “You could catch something one day, too—”

Smudge blinked slowly, unimpressed, and motioned with a paw to his own chest and belly. He was quite different from Rusty—black-and-white and much softer and rounder. He looked like how he lived, never moving far from his bed and food bowl if he could help it.

Rusty, ginger and much wirier, persisted. “Still, you never know.”

“S’pose we don’t.” Smudge glanced out at the forest before them. “Though I wouldn’t dare try, myself. Not over there, anyway, since you keep looking that way.”

“There aren’t really any other places to hunt, though,” Rusty said. “Unless we wanted to go—”

“’We’,” Smudge muttered.

“’We’.” Rusty nodded. “Unless we wanted to go further into the neighborhood and try that park.”

“Eh.” Smudge rolled a shoulder like the very idea of walking that far pained his limbs. “There’re probably ferals out there too.”

Rusty did not respond to this. He was looking back into the forest, thinking. He’d heard stories of feral cats living in those woods—wild giants that lined their borders with the fur of trespassers and ate the bones of helpless kittens and house cats. He’d been warned many times by the adults in his neighborhood to stay away from them, and to run as soon as he saw a hint of their eyes or caught the scent of strange plants and cut wood (whatever that smelled like, he wasn’t sure). Apparently there were even more feral colonies far away, but he knew nothing about them. What everyone was concerned about was the group in the forest.

“Mind a nibble on your thoughts?” Smudge said, jerking Rusty back to the present.

“Just—” Rusty looked between his friend and the woods. “Just wondering what’s in there.”

“Probably nothing good.” Smudge wrinkled his nose distastefully. “A bunch of mud and bullies, I’ll bet.”

“Really?” Rusty looked at Smudge sideways, head tilted a little. “I’ll bet there’s a lot of prey and adventures waiting past those trees.”

“Ohhh,” Smudge said with a grand sarcasm. “Lots of good times in there?”

“All of the good times,” Rusty returned. “And if there are cats, I’ll bet they’re not as bad as everyone says.”

Smudge huffed an amused breath. “Tell you what, you bring one back for me to see myself, one that’s real nice and friendly, and I’ll personally take you to the park tomorrow.”

A spark of something lit up Rusty’s mind. “You know, I might take you up on that.”

All of Smudge’s snarky demeanor vanished in an instant. “Rusty, I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not.” Rusty bunched up and looked over the fence, eyeing the best place to land.

“Don’t—” Smudge puffed up out of the corner of his eye and his volume rose. “Rusty, don’t.”

“No, no, we have a bet.” Rusty jumped and landed with, he proudly noted, barely a stumble. “I’ve got to go find you a feral.”

“They’ll eat you alive!” Smudge protested, looking genuinely anxious. “Come back here! I wasn’t even serious!”

“See you in a while, Smudge!” Rusty called over his shoulder, and started off at a trot through the soft, uncut grass.

“Rusty!” Smudge shouted, but Rusty didn’t look back. He simply padded along, ignoring his friend’s yells, only pausing for an instant as he hit the treeline before pushing his way past a fern. The forest swallowed him and Smudge’s voice faded away.

Rusty stopped a few steps in, eyes wide. The trees, he knew, were always taller than the houses, but up close they seemed to scratch the sky—he wasn’t sure he was even able to see their peaks from here. Some smaller forms of them, much more delicate and thin, fought their way out of the brush that covered almost every bit of ground. The ferns, soft and broad and fringed, took up what the brush didn’t, and patches of incredibly soft grass soaked up what little moonlight they could catch. Everything was vibrant, fresh, alive.

More than that, though, were the scents, so numerous and strong that they threatened to knock Rusty off his feet. Even the trees clouded his nose, and he understood instantly what smells the adults were talking about. The ferns and grass were almost delicious, and the packed soil under his paws smelled not only of rain, but of something that made Rusty’s stomach growl. Something like what he had eaten in his old home.

He wanted to find it.

Without quite understanding what he was doing, Rusty lowered his body into a half-crouch and he tried to pinpoint the scent past all the others. Experimentally, he opened his mouth, and the air brought him a taste that seemed to be coming from his right. He sniffed, turning slowly, ears swiveling.

Something rustled in the ferns, and something else lit up in his head.

Very slowly, very carefully, Rusty moved forward, trying to track the scent as he went. His shoulders brushed against the fronds, but luckily, they made no sound (“Luckily?” What was he trying to sneak up on?). He cursed in his head when his feet shifted the soil and the rustling stopped. He paused, and the rustling eventually continued, as did he.

He closed in on this unknown target, until he ducked below a fern that was blocking his view. In a little clear patch of ground, he could see something tiny and brown scuttling back and forth, digging at the earth or chewing on grass. It had a long, naked tail and wide ears, and Rusty had a vague idea of what it was supposed to be, based on a toy he had at home that looked about the same, save being much more brightly colored.

Again, not having a clue why, Rusty crouched further, eyes focused on the animal. He kept as still as possible, waiting for an opportunity to… do something. The animal was entirely unaware of him. He lifted one paw and took a step, pulling himself closer.

The bush ahead of him violently shook and the animal darted into the undergrowth.

Rusty straightened up, greatly annoyed. He glared at the bush, now catching a scent of something else. Something that was also familiar, but still as new as the rest of this forest. And, going by the continued shaking, something quite large.

Rusty had a faint idea that he should probably run.