#anatomy of a shadow: chapter one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

billiedeansbitch · 2 months

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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.

(AO3 link in the title)

A/n: after what it feels like a year of depression (lol) part three is finally done. (It's the longest chapter by far so buckle up)

<<PREVIOUS PART

It had been two weeks since she found out that she might be, as ridiculous as it sounded, carrying your child in her womb though she was still in the shadows of disbelief and that the results were something of an error because how? Just how…could this all make sense? Even with the results she paid hefty for wasn’t at all convincing. Were there some lessons she missed in the anatomy class that could somehow explain this phenomenon?

It felt cruel and sad, being played like this, it was her body yet it felt like it wasn’t her own. She was supposed to feel it, right? She should know like all the women who were able to predict their pregnancy by trusting their instinct—maybe her instinct wasn’t that strong enough to feel the changes going on or if there were any to begin with but her period was late. She missed it and that was enough for her to worry.

But alas, Larissa gave her mind a rest, choosing to not dwell on the matter; her days went as normal, nobody suspected anything, not even you. The sex continued, and it was great. She was living her best life…supposedly.

When morning came and the sunlight swept across the walls through the gaps of the curtains at seven in the morning on a wednesday, Larissa was up and about managing through her routine that she had so religiously been doing ever since she could remember.

The coffee was left brewing in the kitchen for later while she took her time in the bedroom, picking her clothes, the accessories she’d wear for the day, her perfume, what kind of wrist watch she was in the mood for and so on. Again, everything was normal like it should be.

Sated with the outcome of her makeup, she gave herself a once over through the mirror. She then slipped her kitten heels over her stocking clad feet, feeling them in since they were new and fresh out of the box.

Looking past her shoulders, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to her already made bed. Only three days ago you were lying there on your stomach, clad in nothing but her shirt that was obviously too big, swallowing your form until the tops of your thighs as you “innocently” read a book from her shelf.

It could have fooled her by the way the space between your brows creased but upon seeing the cover was turned upside down she knew you were only doing it for show or maybe you were bored out of your mind that your last resort to ease yourself was by doing something remotely childish.

Larissa made it a point to tell you that you were “reading” it wrong as she crossed her bedroom to grab a set of underwear from her drawer to which you told her that it was on purpose, that you were testing out how far you could read them upside down. She hummed, a smile unfurling on her lips. The woman was inexplicably drawn to you that even this did nothing to change her mind about you.

She let you be, hearing your soft murmurs in the background as she slid some clothes on. It was funny to think that only half an hour ago you were rearranging her insides and whispering filthy things into her ear making her own cum spill down the bedsheets. God, she was missing you already and there was no way she was able to deny it by the way she felt her chest squeezed.

The kitchen smelled like coffee when she entered the space, its aroma was so rich it nearly made her salivate. She needed it to start with her day knowing well that her body required it to function and stay alert, yet in the midst of pouring herself a cup, Larissa halted feeling a strange turn in her stomach and put the pot down. What little she had poured was wasted away in the sink.

Instead, she grabbed something to snack on: a mix of nuts that she had been liking as of late. She then left the house early and opted for a concoction of fresh blended fruit juice as well as two medium sized blueberry muffins from the roadside cafe on her way to Nevermore, she also ordered a loaf of their special banana bread with the intention to share it with the Nevermore staff and a slice for her, too, just incase she got hungry in the middle of work which she often did these past few days.

–

“Good morning, Principal Weems.” Enid, ever the sweet girl she was, greeted Larissa in the hallway on her way to the teacher’s lounge holding the goodies in one hand as the other held her drink.

The bounce in Enid’s step was enough for the woman to feel sort of amused. She reciprocated the smile and she greeted her, too.

“You look glowing, Principal Weems.” The younger woman chirped, still smiling. Larissa felt blush creeped to her cheeks. It wasn’t odd for Enid to rain people with compliments, it was actually her brand, and Larissa wasn’t a stranger to it as she, herself, had received it plenty of times yet she found herself dumbfounded particularly by this one. Her, glowing? Of course, she kept her appearance as sophisticated as one could muster while running an entire school of outcasts but glowing? No amount of makeup or creams or moisturisers she lathered her skin with could make her glow unless Enid was lying. Or buttering her up for something she wanted to ask as a favour from her later.

Before the woman could react, Enid was saying goodbye and breezed past her to catch up with her friends in the end of the hallway.

She brushed it off and headed to the teacher’s lounge.

This time it was the new professor who complimented her whilst taking a slice of banana bread for herself. Larissa could only stand right there and smile.

One by one they all had their piece, the last one to grab was Professor Vladimir, moaning when he took a bite. Larissa felt pleased by everyone's reactions, it was as if she baked it herself.

The little nudge on her arm pried her mind off of her thoughts, it was Professor Vladimir eyeing her, it was something that let Larissa know that she should leave now or she’d have to put up with his teasing.

“What’s the special occasion?” He had this irritating habit of wiggling his eyebrows up and down while he gave her smile that was just as ridiculous. “Had a good lay, Rissy?” She knew that nickname was coming and yet she had the audacity to be shocked and eyed him dirty.

“Do me a favour and shut your mouth, Vlad.” It was spoken discreetly low that only he could hear it. Looking around, Larissa felt eased seeing everyone was busy conversing amongst themselves.

Alexander Vladimir was her friend, a gay guy that had this exceptionally good facial harmony even with the moustache that made Larissa want to shave it off herself. They had been friends since their own time at Nevermore, and now, here they were, still friends though Larissa doubted it wouldn’t be for long if he kept pestering her with his comments about you. (Oh yes, he knew about you.)

It all started when he caught you one afternoon creeping out in the hallway, Larissa’s lipstick smeared on your skin and hair was a little bit tousled. It wasn’t rocket science to figure that you were both fucking, he could never judge one’s happiness. He had taken so much pride knowing something else not many were privy to. It made him lose his goddamn mind and since then he never stopped harassing her with questions and teasing.

And although Larissa wasn’t ready to spill her secrets out, it oddly felt good to finally talk about you, to have someone listen to her as she gushed over and over how amazing you were as a person but of course it didn’t all happen in one seating during tea time. He coaxed her out of it and in return, he divulged his recent rendezvous with the groundskeeper. To this day, Larissa felt traumatized from all the information her friend should have kept all to himself.

“Tell me, love, have you done anal? Or sixty-nine ‘cause girl, you are fucking glowing. You aren’t keeping her hostage under your desk or tied to your bed posts, are you?”

Larissa nearly did a spit take, though she quickly recovered and schooled her expression. She did a quick sweep around before jabbing her elbow to his side earning her a yelp.

“Girl, you can deny it in ten different ways and I ain’t gonna believe you. Who cares if you do? I don’t. You can keep her all year long over or under any surface of your office and I wouldn’t dare say a thing.”

Okay, that was it. Larissa’s nostrils flared, eyeing down the man. If he could casually talk like that with all these people in the room, no doubt Larissa could casually wring his neck as well but the thought soon vanished when another teacher joined their space leaving Larissa fuming underneath a calm expression.

She put a practiced smile on her, looking sweet and all as if in her mind she wasn’t thinking about murdering her friend.

It was Mrs Bowen, the music teacher, rubbing her very swollen pregnant belly in front of Larissa. A belly that Larissa could swear wasn’t as prominent as it was now when she last saw the woman, she couldn’t even recall if she sent a congratulatory note or anything.

Subconsciously, she placed a hand flat on her stomach, mimicking the other woman.

“Mrs Bowen! It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages. How far along are you again? It looks like you’re ready to pop!” It was Vlad who broke the ice first. Larissa stayed silent, pensively rubbing her thumb on the soft spot of her belly.

“Almost eight months. I’m carrying triplets.” She made a show by pushing her belly outward.

“Damn that’s a horde! How many positions did you do with your husband to conceive not just one but three?”

The high pitch chuckle broke Larissa out of her trance, removing her hand and letting it fall on her side to appear as if she was smoothing her dress. Thankfully everyone was well occupied to notice the gesture.

“Just one. It runs in the family you know. My husband is a quadruplet.”

“Wow…okay, wow. Really wow.”

“Congratulations on the babies again, Mrs Bowen. ” Larissa said finally.

“Thank you, Principal Weems. I kinda want to ask you, well, I was gonna drop an invitation at your office but I can’t climb two flights of stairs like I used to anymore so I’m just gonna say it. It’s my baby shower this upcoming holiday break. I know it’s quite early but my husband and I decided it’s for the best.”

It was plain as day that the impromptu invitation had caught her off guard, she blinked a few times, she didn’t even realize her jaw was clenched and her brows were raised, as her breath was suspended.

She looked at Mrs Bowen’s face, then down her engorged belly, then back up to her face again. She had no qualms with the pregnant woman, hell, Mrs Bowen was the sweetest, most down to earth living person she encountered in this godforsaken town, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be in a…celebratory mood?

“That’s—” it felt like her voice was caught up in her throat “—that’s wonderful. I, um, I have to check if my schedule is clear but I’ll keep it in mind.” she said, putting a practiced smile on her face. She wanted to leave.

“Excuse me, I have to go. Have a lovely day for both of you and see you around.”

–

Larissa sat in front of her desk, the drink she had was forgotten on the table letting the condensation from the melted ice drip.

Seeing Mrs Bowen in her state made Larissa think about herself. It made her heart beat faster, the image of herself with a big protruding belly was unnerving enough as it was and it was made worse by the thought of how, just fucking how, was she going to go through all stages of pregnancy. Not that anything was confirmed yet, but she just couldn’t help herself.

And it terrified her. The future terrified her. If only she could just pull out the test kits she had hiding in her drawer and piss on it, wait for some goddamn five minutes, and be done. She would at least get a grip of what was really going on, though it felt like it wasn’t that easy.

Maybe a part of her was already hoping no matter how much she denied it while the rest was just scared of the disappointing truth but wouldn’t it be better? You were young, free spirited, you often gush about how you’d want to travel the world and explore. You had a full life right ahead of you and she was not selfish to ask anything of you but she knew you were not a terrible person, you wouldn’t just leave.

Thinking about it made me nauseous. It wasn’t supposed to get this serious. None of these were supposed to happen.

She was fucking turning forty-four in a few months, and this kind of dilema was absolutely not she was expecting at this age.

That day she decided she was too overwhelmed and unwell to properly function so she gave into her whims and she went home and spent the rest of the day in her bed wishing you were there to hold her.

–

Eventually it was the end of the week with a long weekend ahead, Professors were gathering their belongings to spend weekends with their families for those who live far away, and students were getting ready for whatever plans they had for the weekend.

She watched from the balcony how the thick crowd dispersed until few of the staff were left roaming the grounds, only then did she summon herself to collect her things, deeming herself ready to go home.

In the middle of applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the silence, the hollowed feeling that lingered in her chest. She didn't know how the thought got to her but she imagined a gummy smile welcoming her home with a tiny pair of hands opening and closing, too eager to grab a fistful of her clothes. The smell of baby powder and cologne as she buries her face on the crook of a little one’s neck and then you…

She thought about you kissing her and helping take her coat off. She thought about spending her Saturdays in her backyard, lounging on a massive picnic blanket under the tree, indulging the day with books and some wine, and then you’d be both surprised because your daughter just took her first step, and her heart was clenching, a proud smile displayed on her face while you were absolutely freaking out because what if she fell flat on her face?

(Okay. Fuck. Goddamnit)

The sound of the drawer slamming closed harder than it was necessary reverberated in the room. She was hot on her heels, ushering herself into the bathroom, leaving the door open, she held two pregnancy tests with a firm grip.

With bated breath, she sat on the toilet and used the first stick.

—

When you arrived on a Saturday morning, Larissa had just come out of her bedroom. You were still in the hallway, your overnight bag hanging on your shoulder, two paper bags occupying your arms. On your way, you took it upon yourself to buy groceries not wanting Larissa to think you were freeloading off of her or abusing her kindness, plus you thought about cooking for her instead of feeding her take outs.

Your eyes lingered to the way the flimsy straps of her baby blue nightgown that hung loosely on her shoulders, it made you feel things, and when they went south noticing how it was cut mid her thighs, giving you enough skin to ogle at. You couldn’t possibly contain your hunger for her. Her skin looked supple, rosy around the cheeks and freckles around her shoulders going down the length of her arms.

Her nipples peaked from the chill of the morning, and the sunlight casted on her skin gave an ethereal kind of glow. You couldn’t ponder how this was real. How she was real.

Before taking the groceries to the kitchen, you dropped the bag in the hallway, mentally noting to pick it up for later, “I let myself in again thinking you were still probably asleep.”

You walked up to her and she met you halfway. There were bags under her eyes denoting the lack of sleep, and her eyes, they look tired and conflicted.

The groceries almost fell when she surged forward, hands cupping your face, pressing a kiss on your lips and knocking out your breath. You wanted to grab the back of her neck, pull her deeper and kiss her harder. You wanted to reciprocate her obvious longing but you couldn’t unless you wanted spilt milk and raw eggs all over the floor.

“Mhmm, later. I need to put this away first.” So with that, you reluctantly pulled away, sauntering over to the kitchen to put the bags on the counter where she followed you, not letting herself be away from you and it made your heart clench.

Larissa kept the distance between you within an arm’s length, leaning her back on the counter behind you, watching you take the fresh produce out of the bag one by one but there was a lot packed in one bag and you didn’t think you had the patience to put them away, not if she was looking at you like that, not when something felt wrong.

The eggs were the last thing you pulled out and set on the counter. When you faced her, she had her lower lip worried in between her teeth, “Baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She shook her head, stepping closer. The instant you opened your arms, your bodies collided. She rested her forehead against yours, “Sorry.”

You brush a strand away from her face, letting your fingertips linger around her jawbone, “It’s okay. I missed this, too.” you told her, getting a sense that it was the reason that made Larissa emotional, and to think that missing you had this effect on her made you want to wrap her in your arms more; to never let her go.

You offered her a wink, hoping to enlighten her and kissed the tip of her nose, it usually earned you a chuckle or a kiss in response but right now, Larissa only sighed.

Your mind circled back to how you thought her eyes looked very tired, and they still were, missing its shine. You could barely see yourself reflecting in them.

“How about you steal a couple more hours of sleep, hm? As soon as I’m finished putting the groceries away, I will lie with you and then after you have your rest we’ll have breakfast. I’ll make waffles, you like that, right?”

It took her a moment to reply, her eyes watching you closely like she had many times before after sharing an intimate moment that left you both emotionally vulnerable.

“I missed you.” she said, cupping your face. The pad of her left thumb grazed the corner of your lips, stroking the skin tenderly.

“And I missed you a whole lot more. So, so much. I have been thinking about you day and night. Most of my dreams were about you which is embarrassing because even in my sleep, I was obsessed about you.” That, thankfully, made her smile even just a tiny bit, barely perceptible if you hadn’t been this close to see it.

“Do you mean it?” She asked and you gave her a reassuring nod.

“Yes, I do. Now, let’s get you in bed.”

In between the conversation, you felt yourself closer to slipping from what you really wanted to tell her, though you held back and managed. It still felt early to say it and you were afraid of how she’d react. There were too many what ifs and none of them were doing you good. So, as long as you didn’t say it, you still had a chance of still being with her and protecting both of your peace.

Looking away, to shake the thoughts off, something caught your attention interestingly enough. On the bench at the end of the bed, you recognized the neatly folded clothes. They were your pyjamas. She must have been expecting you last night, you knew she had this habit of preparing both of your clothes whenever you were staying so it wasn’t completely random to find them there.

In that moment, from where you stood, you were struck with just how much Larissa deeply cared for you. It was palpable from the things she did for you, for what she had sacrificed by far. Because you knew a woman in her twenties being seen in public with another woman twice her age would have had people to turn their heads, and it was sad because it would only take a second for them to judge you, but mostly her. In their eyes she was a predator that preyed on the young. It would do less damage on you even if you were the one who pushed yourself to be with her.

She had a reputable image that she was putting at risk for you so if that didn’t speak volume of how much she was willing to do to be with you, you would be a goddamn idiot to still think that this woman didn’t feel the same way as you do if not more.

“Darling?” Her voice reeled you back at the present moment, she was already in bed, laying on her side with her head propped on her hand.

If your heart could grow every time you think you love her, it would have been massive, uncontainable even. Yes, yes you love her.

“Just give me a second,” You shed your pants, followed by the shirt you have on, then you reached behind you to unclasped your bra which soon fell on top of the messy pile. At this point, your body was on autopilot, acting according to what felt necessary.

You needed her to know that her effort hadn’t gone to waste. You took the simple white tee from the bench, sniffing it briefly. It smelled like her. In fact, the whole room smelled just like her, and you basked in its scent, in its comfort that it gave you knowing that as long as you were in this room you were hers and she was yours, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

You joined her after, sliding into the warm soft sheets and into her awaiting arms. You throbbed to be this close to her all week long, nothing could make up for it, not the facetime calls or the voice messages, or pictures. They all did manage to fill in at least an inch of your longing but nothing could quite beat having her next to you and breathing onto her skin, feeling her pulse beneath your touch and her lips against yours.

She was the pleasure you couldn’t deny yourself from. Every single bit of you was latching like vines around her unwilling to release itself. You craved for the sweet taste of the mornings where her smile ended up on your lips, before you were lapping up the coats of her essence around your fingers and swallowing it.

The silence stretched for a while, the words you wanted to relieve your chest from stayed caged; guarded within your ribs. You wanted her so much you wanted to do this right and you would…just not right now.

Everything was in motion when you blinked, your breath coming in deep, expanding your lungs with the sickening burn. Her scent filled your brain with a high level of dopamine making you feel fuzzy all over.

“What happened to putting away the groceries first?” She asked, a mild tone of amusement apparent in her voice, shifting herself so you could lay your head on her arm.

You snuggled forward, hiding your face on the crook of her neck, “Change of plans.” You breathed out. You then sling an arm around her waist, bridging whatever gap was left until you were all flushed against her with your legs slotted in between her thighs. “Would you rather I do them now?”

“No. I want you exactly where you are right now.” And to prove her words, Larissa wrapped her other arm around you, trapping you into her hold then she hummed, threading her fingers along your hair.

You smirked against her skin, feeling the light satisfaction her answer gave. “That’s what I thought.” And for sure she must have felt it or something because she playfully pinched your arm.

Repeating the process of combing through your hair, you grew silent, your breaths were evened and relaxed, even the tension she noticed the moment she held you disappeared. For a second there she thought you had fallen asleep, which made it kind of funny because you were the one who insisted she was the one who needed some sleep, but she wasn’t going to tease you now. Perhaps, you were just as tired as her, she couldn’t ponder how you could get up at the ungodly hours of the morning and drive two hours to get here.

That was until her skin was met with the warm wet feeling of your mouth. The sensations she adored had rendered her eyes closed. “Darling,” Her hips bucked in the slightest way. It felt like encouragement on your part, as well as the way her back arched causing her breasts to thrust forward. And you couldn’t keep it in yourself anymore, you detached your mouth from her clavicle, continuing your exploration to her mouth and kissed her while you palmed her breast over the silk.

She paused in the middle of the kiss, brows knitting together. You felt her hand cupped the back of yours stilling your movement, “Be gentle,”

“But I’m being gentle?”

“Extra gentle, honey.” You nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again, and your hand resumed working on her breast, “This okay?”

It took her a minute to answer a simple “yes...” it was breathy, almost sounding unsure, but she pushed herself, nibbling on your lip before you had the chance to overthink her tone and you kissed her back with feral need.

The pleasure was slowly building instead of pain, and it went on, until eventually you were yearning to have it in your mouth. With a simple yank on the neckline of her nightgown, her breasts were freed and exposed.

The sight of her nipples hard and rosy sent blush all over your face, it was like seeing them the first time again. But what really tipped you over the edge was the way they looked fuller, more supple and round with new veins visibly showing.

Her fingers in your hair grew slack before they found purchase on your shoulder when your lips suddenly took one nipple in, and it was chased by a muffled cry.

Pushing your shoulder back, she looked down, surprised by just how sensitive and sore she was and it hadn’t been a minute since having them in your mouth.

Wide eyed, you asked, “Sorry, did I hurt you again?”

“No, they’re just quite sensitive.” she was rubbing the nipple with her thumb to alleviate the tingling.

“I’m really sorry.” The fear of hurting her again extinguished your desire, even if it was unintentional you couldn’t erase the pained expression she had.

“I told you it’s okay.”

“Maybe we should stop? Or are you hungry? I can–” Larissa grabbed your wrist before you could get out of bed.

“No, no, not hungry, though a few hours of sleep sounds appealing now.”

You returned back to your previous position, “I’m sorry to cut your fun, sweetheart.” She dropped a kiss on your forehead, her thumb rubbing your brow to soothe the frown on your face, “I’ll make it up to you later, is that alright?”

“We don’t have to do anything later if that’s what you’re hinting at. I’m content to just lay here with you and spend the rest of the day rotting in this bed.”

“Oh, is that right?” Larissa chuckled at your choice of words, pressing a kiss onto your hairline.

“Ahuh, I’m okay. Now, will you turn your back on me please, and let me spoon you?” your voice was muffled by the soft skin of her chest when you murmured.

“Did I hear you right? My baby wants to spoon me?”

My baby. Your chest tightened at that. “Please?”

You both exchanged a look with smiles invading both your lips. Without another word Larissa turned her back on you and you gladly offered your arm for her to rest her head, while the other hugged her waist from behind.

Quickly, you were both engulfed by the blissful comfort of silence, hushing the pestering thoughts that loomed. It settled your heart at the right pace. You ever wondered if it ever felt the same way for her.

And as if she could read your mind, she held your hand and brought it to her chest letting you feel her heart thudding softly on your palm. You took that as the answer and smiled.

“Good night, my love.” You nuzzled your nose on the side of her neck like a cat, smelling traces of her body wash and perfume, some of her shampoo as well. Your brain was so fuzzy it didn’t question the last two words.

Meanwhile, Larissa’s heart leapt to her throat.

–

The last time Larissa had locked herself in her office’s private restroom, pacing back and forth with her head pulsing, was outreach day. She was barefooted, she had an unlit cigarette in between her fingers thumbing the filter, too tempted to lit the stick.

And yesterday, she found herself in the same situation. She paced along the black and white tiles with her arms hugging her middle. She had an impending headache so she stopped and pressed her back against the wall. She closed her eyes for a minute, feeling the coolness seeping to her back. She would probably regret this right after but she was far too emotionally stressed to care. She then dramatically slid down until she was sitting, the length of her legs stretched out, one ankle over the other.

The beating of her heart was too damn fast, her tears welling up the corners of her eyes until her vision was a blur and it all came leaking down her face.

On the counter, near the sink, two white test kits laid parallel to one another showing identical results.

Larissa laughed when she picked it up again, staring at the two visible pink lines.

#larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie imagines #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems smut #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #billiedeansbitch #some g!p action

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dogw1tch · 14 days

Text

Escapism 🍂

18+ Minotaur x Gender Neutral Reader

(Size difference, Breeding, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch Notes: Thank you guys for the love on my last story! It makes me so happy to know people are enjoying my work :) this one has a little more build up but it might call for multiple chapters?

Summary: The library is off limits after dark but knowledge waits for no one. Besides, reading mythology is much more immersive at night. So immersive, in fact, that the breath on the back of your neck feels very, very real.

You had been crouching behind the bookshelf for so long now your legs were starting to loose feeling. Finally, though, the university librarian had finished making his checks and began turning out the lights. He was an anxious looking man in his thirties and you felt a little bad deceiving him like this- after all, it was him that had given you the book in the first place. But the tome was a relic that couldn’t leave the library to be read in your dorm room and you were so desperate to finish it. So, since stealing seemed a bit dramatic, you would have to settle for trespassing. You heard the large wooden door echo closed and dragged yourself from your hiding place, book still clutched to your chest. Your eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness as you dug around in your pocket for your lighter. Slivers of moonlight through the window seemed to die in the shadows of the towering book cases. They looked almost identical to the grand towers of the university in the darkness and the chill in the air gave you the feeling of walking through the streets at night.

Lighter in hand, you slowly navigated the corridors to find your much beloved reading corner and lit the candles you had left there. The little corner of light looked so cozy and you smiled as you gathered yourself up in the blanket you had bought and settled down in the old armchair with your book. The title ‘Portentum Complexus’ was embossed in gold into deep red leather. Much of the writing was still in the original Latin and you had been taking your time to carefully translate. However there were passages written in English, seemingly added by a scholar years later as well as beautiful etched illustrations. From all of these pieces, you had managed to put together a tale of a strange beast, roaming the land to find his lost lover. There had been a great war between worlds and the beast was trying to bring life back to his realm. Though the creature was described as being a hulking monster, triple the size of any man, covered in corse hair, obsidian black horns and pointed hooves; he still had a gentle feel about him. There was a sadness in the Latin passages that didn’t seem to properly translate into English. Perhaps that was why previous scholars hadn’t bothered to do so. But you poured over them, wanting to find the words to understand this creature who everyone, bar the monsters of his realm, was so afraid of. Your heart hurt for him a little; after all, he was looking for his love, he must feel so alone.

So this was how you intended to spend your night, curled up on the moth bitten armchair reading about lamenting fictional creatures. University was certainly the right choice. You flicked to the last English passage you had been studying. The beast had been captured by a human army and, not wishing to harm them by fighting back, had ended up bound by thick ropes in the king’s dungeon.

‘The corse binding bit into his soft flesh as he cried out into the empty corridors. He cried for his love, for his mate. He cried for them to find him in this cold and lonesome maze. His sorrow echoed from the cold stone and surrounded him.’

A sudden noise broke you from your immersion. It sounded like the lowing of cattle, strange since you were in the city centre. It was quickly replaced by the constant groaning of the ancient building before you could pay it much mind. The library was surprisingly noisy at night.

‘The beast cried until his throat was horse and even the reflection of his own voice left him alone. He feared he was to die here in the darkness. He spoke a silent prayer to the gods that his love might be safe. His chest heaved against its restraints as the monster resigned himself to his fate.’

Again came that noise, closer now, and sounding more laboured. You looked around but saw nothing in the darkness. Your mind must be playing tricks, you knew you shouldn’t really be here after all.

‘Movement. Movement in the darkness. The beast stirred and strained to see who approached him. Staring, wide eyed and loving through the bars of his captivity there stood…’

The words cut off back into Latin. You sighed and contemplated packing in for the night, translating seemed a tiresome chore at this hour. But something kept you going, call it intellectual curiosity. You needed to know what happened to the monster you had grown so fond of. Slowly but surely, word by word, you uncovered each sentence.

‘His love. His love had come to rescue him. They picked at the lock and made their way inside. The beast stared in disbelief. After all this time, all this searching, his love had been the one to find him. They approached with caution, unsure whether they recognised their mate after all these years. “Please, do not be afraid my heart, it is me.”’

The voice startled you. You read the words but they seemed to come from behind you. You turned again but again saw nothing but empty corridors through towering shelves. Perhaps your love of escapism had just left you with a very vivid imagination.

‘His love came forward, running their hands over the restrains that bound their lover. With a deft hand and a sharp blade, they began to cut through the rope. The beast sighed in relief as the pressure on his chest was released.’

The back of your neck tingled as a warm gust of air blew through the library. You could not shake the feeling you were being watched now but the story had you too gripped to care.

‘Like felled serpents, the ropes lay limp on the stone floor and the beast rose up from his stupor. He towered above his lover but they were not afraid. They knew he could not hurt them nor anyone else. They were bound together by fate and they would always find their way back to one another.

“My love. My heart. Please, I have craved for you endlessly. Let me hold you and make you mine once more.”’

Without warning you were pulled into a sudden embrace that knocked the air from your lungs. In your confusion, you did not even scream as large hands pulled you bodily from your chair. You were suddenly being held against a wall of corse fur, inhaling the bitter sweet of hay and sweat. You look up to see, towering over you in the candle-kissed half light, a great Minotaur.

He held you flush to his soft, strong chest as though you weighed nothing at all. His breath was hot on your skin and as a rough, black tongue ran up your neck making you shiver. “My mate…” The creature’s voice was low and surrounded you just as fully as his embrace, “How I’ve longed for this.” With one sweep of his arm, the Minotaur sent your books and papers fluttering to the ground. You had to crane your neck to gaze up at him as he placed you down on the desk; his dark eyes bore into you with such deep lust that you couldn’t help a pang of arousal coursing through your body. Nobody had ever looked at you this way. The great beast stood tall over you, taking in your body like he wanted to consume every part. You felt then, something hot and heavy resting next to your thigh. Your face flushed red and you had to look away for a moment, suddenly finding yourself embarrassed as the obscenity of the situation dawned on you. The creatures cock was longer than your thigh and just as thick. It made sense with the rest of his towering form but you were suddenly feeling very exposed under the beast’s hungry glare. He seemed to notice your hesitation and cupped your face in his palm, tilting your head to look at him. “Do you fear me?” Despite it all, you shook your head. Embarrassed? Yes. But not afraid.

“I shall endeavour to be as gentle as I can. You are to bear my calfs after all, it is my duty to treat you well.”

Before his words could register, the creatures head was between your thighs. He had ripped away the fabric there and his thick, rough tongue was lapping at your folds like a man starved. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips as you threw back your head. Your thighs clenched around his head, seemingly spurring him on. His tongue began to push deeper, curling inside you and igniting every nerve in your body. A single finger, large enough that you could wrap your hand around it, began to toy with your clit, rolling in gentle circles as you struggled to hold back wanton moans. He seemed to revel in the sounds you made, thrusting his tongue deeper inside with every whine of pleasure until you were rocking your hips desperately against his snout.

You were sure you were about faint from the overwhelming sensation of it all when the creature finally pulled his head back to see his work. You were a drooling mess against the table, slick and stretched open all for him. Still not open enough to take him inside you. A chuckle echoed above you, as though he had read your panicked look. “No, not here. Once we are home, my love, I will have you completely. But for now…” He picked you up with one hand around your waist, the other positioning his cock beneath you. “For now I have other ways to fill you.”

He began pulling you up his length, fucking in between your thighs and coating himself in your slick. He groaned deeply as he used your body to pleasure himself as if you truly belonged to him alone. You couldn’t help but let out your own whimpers of pleasure as your clit rubbed against his rough skin, getting wetter with every thrust. You found yourself wishing he were inside you, his scent, his growls, it all seemed so right, so familiar and you wanted to belong to this great beast that had captured you. You pressed your thighs together as tight as you could as he man-handled like you were nothing more than a toy made just for him. “That’s it, just like that..” he groaned. The muscles under the creature’s soft belly tightened and you knew he was close. “When we’re home I’m going to keep you full every minute of the day. I’ve spent too long without you. I’m going to hold you on my cock and fill you with my calfs until you’re stretched and moulded to my shape. No one else will be able to have you. You’re mine.” Without warning, he pinned you back to the desk and pressed his engorged tip against your entrance, stretching you around him. He let out a deep, echoing growl as he released inside you, filling you so much that you felt his cum leaking out of you and down your thighs.

The Minotaur didn’t seem satisfied to let this happen. He ran his fingers over your thigh and pushed the residue back inside you, fucking it deep into your stomach. You cried out with each thrust of his fingers, rocking your hips and riding out your waves of pleasure. It felt so good to be full of him.

You stayed there a while as he kissed and lapped at your skin, nuzzling into your neck and plugging you full with his fingers. He mumbled under his breath sweet nothings about how he would take you home, back where you belong. How he would keep you full and satisfied in every way. How you would give him such strong and beautiful young. How life would be so sweet now that his mate had been found. You tried to focus on his words, but they bought such a familiar peace that you found yourself lulled into sleep, breathing him in as you snuggled into his warm fur.

“That’s it my love, rest now. I will find you again soon”

***

It was the librarian who found you in the morning. He had gotten some idea of what was going to happen that night but was honestly surprised by the sheer amount of fluid involved. He tried his best to keep his eyes shut as he threw your blanket over your body and placed you back in your reading chair. The book he had lent you was open on the floor, displaying an etching of the Minotaur and his lover in an intimate embrace. The librarian quickly pushed it shut, not wanting to be anymore invasive into your private life. He thought about waking you, there were so many things he needed to tell you before the creature came back to claim his mate. But for now, you looked so peaceful.

He locked the library door, flipping the sign to closed and letting you get your rest.

DogWitch notes: a part two may be in order if you like??

Part two <3

#monster x reader #monster nsft #monster imagine #nsft #monster smut #monster fucker #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster x human #size difference #smut #minotaur

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 19 days

Text

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 5

You can read chapters one, two, three, and four here.

A/N: Not @ me pulling an all nighter to finish a protocol for uni and submitting it at 6 in the morning just 10 minutes before the deadline. Then proceeding to edit this chapter. This series in ruining my future, because all I did in the last two weeks is write 20 chapters! instead of the four protocols that I should've written on time. Anyways, enough about me. Y/n is fighting everyone in this chapter and saying hurtful things along the way.

Summary: Tension rises as Y/n only makes things harder for everyone around her. After moving into the Town House, she is attacked by the King’s soldiers.

Warnings: angst, slight violence, blood.

Word Count: 4.1 K.

Coming to check on Elain, much to Y/n’s surprise, she was not in her room. She paced towards the room where Nesta usually sat, only to hear her telling someone to get out. When she arrived she found Nesta and Feyre by the door and Elain and Lucien sitting in the room.

“I told you to keep him away from her” Y/n glared at Feyre, her voice tight with frustration.

“I came for a book” Lucien stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You don’t fool me, you one-eyed bastard. Get out!” she kept her voice steady, though a storm was building within her.

“She needs fresh air. Get her out of this house” he advised, and although he was right, Y/n barked “do not tell us what my sister needs. You don’t even know her”. In a moment of intense anger, a faint spark danced across her fingertips, the sensation lost amidst the turmoil of her emotions. She clenched her fists tightly, extinguishing the spark, the potential within her remaining hidden.

Feyre had come this morning to apologize for the previous night, but upon being seen in the same room as Elain and Lucien, it only made things worse.

“Y/n, I-”.

“Save it” she gave her sister a glare before storming out.

—

With no one around, Y/n felt cooped up and could not leave even if she wanted to. She decided to explore the rest of the house. Reaching the library, she felt something tighten around her chest. She was greeted by Clotho who wrote on a paper offering to assist her. She didn't even know why she was here, but then an idea came to her. She wrote back “do you have books about the anatomy and strong and weak points of the Fae?”.

“You want to learn about your body?”.

“Something like that”.

Clotho signaled one of the priestesses who led Y/n to the aisle about Fae anatomy a couple of floors below. She started reading out of curiosity but got sucked in. The tightening of her chest returned and she finally put the book down. She looked around, but no priestesses were in sight. She walked around the library when she saw a dark pit below. Something was drawing her closer, and she decided to investigate. She heard a faint voice ask “who walks here?”.

“Hello. Is there anyone here?”. No answer. She resumed her descent.

“Who dares disrupt my sleep?” the voice was louder.

“I-I did not know there was anyone here. I’m Y/n”.

“Ah, the one who’d been lost. I see you’ve been found”.

“What does that even mean? Who are you?”.

“You mean to say, what am I?”.

“You’re not Fae? Wh- where are you? How is it possible that your voice is everywhere?” Y/n was now going down carefully, as the lights began to fade.

“Fae?” the voice laughed “I’m much older, girl-”.

“Y/n, what in the Mother’s name are you doing here?” Cassian grabbed her wrist and led her upstairs.

“What the hell, prick? Let go of me!” but Cassian did not release her until they were in the upper part of the library, where it was safe.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” this was the first time she’s seen Cassian angry. His wings flared slightly, a sign of his agitation.

“What has gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated “how can you just go down there? Do you know what lies beneath the library?”.

“No, I do not. No one has told me anything. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been to the library”.

“You stupid fool”.

“Mind your tongue, General”.

“Why did you even go down there?”.

“Because- I- I don’t know. Something was calling to me. I had this strange feeling and it led me there” she explained.

“If it ever calls to you again, do not answer. Do not go down there, do you understand me?”.

“I do not take orders from you, General. I’m not one of your soldiers that you can command”.

“Mother above, Y/n. Will you just listen for once?” Cassian sighed. He’d never dealth with such a stubborn and infuriating woman before.

“What is down there?”.

“A creature you do not want to face, trust me. Please, just stay away. I’m not commanding, I’m asking”.

“Alright, whatever. How did you even know I was here?”.

“I stayed behind to guard the city and you and Elain-”

“I don’t need guarding”.

“I know. When I came to the house, you weren’t there, so I had to check. When I got to the library, Clotho told me you were here. I did not think you’d do such a stupid thing, but when I came to find you you weren’t there. Only the book you were reading. Why are you studying our anatomy?”.

“I need to know everything about my enemies in order to defeat them”.

“Do you plan on killing me?” he chuckled.

“If you keep annoying me”.

“You’re lucky that I found you. You could have died”.

“Am I supposed to thank you? You don’t know that. Maybe whatever is down there just wanted to chat” she shrugged.

“Since when do you see the best in people?”.

“I don’t, but it is not a person, is it?”.

“Let’s just get out of here” he rolled his eyes.

“Where is everyone?”.

“Hewn city. If you agreed to help, you could’ve gone with them”.

“And see more of your kind? From what I heard, they’re even worse than you”.

“Much worse”.

“Then why would I ever want to go there?”.

“Fair point. But what about your powers, don’t you want to learn about them?”.

“You don’t know if I have any”.

“You are Cauldron-made. I-we believe that each of you has powers”.

“Power or no power, I’m not doing anything to help you”.

“Why not? You’d help save everyone”.

“You ask a lot of questions, General”.

“And you answer none”.

“I don’t owe you or anyone an answer”.

“Sorry, I asked… I have to go now, Rhys just informed me of their return. And please don’t go down again”.

“I won’t. Tell my sister and your brother to come here tomorrow, I have something to discuss with them”.

—

To Y/n’s surprise, not only Feyre and Rhys were in the living room the next morning, but also Cassian, Azriel and Nesta.

“Good morning” she greeted Nesta, and Nesta only. “How are your lessons going?” she took a seat next to her sister.

“I’m learning to shield myself. Yesterday was tiring” Nesta informed her.

“I want to go home” Y/n informed Feyre, who was taken aback, much like everyone else in the room.

“What? This is your home now” Feyre said.

“No, this is your home. I want to leave. I want to go back”.

“But you’re not human anymore” Feyre reminded “they won’t accept you there. It’s not safe”.

“I can glamour myself. And I can decide what risks I’m going to take myself”.

“You can’t glamour yourself forever”.

“Why do you care? I have made my decision. I want to leave” she persisted.

“Because you are my sister, and I want what is best for you”.

“And you think this is what’s best for me? To be locked up in here with nothing to do, surrounded by people I don’t like. I’m sorry that your human life was miserable, that you had to hunt for our family’s survival and just because you found a purpose here, just because you fit in, doesn’t mean we all have to. I had a life back then, a good one”.

“No one is locking you up. I told you, you can leave any time you wanted” Rhys reminded.

“How am I supposed to leave if no one is here to take me out? Or am I magically supposed to send a letter that would go wherever you are?”.

“You can call with your mind and I would send whoever is nearest to get you” Rhys explained.

“Nice trick, so you can enter my mind and read my thoughts? I’m not stupid”.

“I would never do such a thing, I give you my word”.

“You and your words that you can’t keep” she huffed.

“Y/n-” Feyre tried to diffuse the situation.

“I.want.to.leave”.

“It’s not safe. Not for you and not for your father. You have to think ab-”.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you” her reply came with a huffed chuckle “where was all that talk when you came to us for help? Or did our safety not matter to you when your new family wanted help? Because from where I stand, everything that happened to us was because of a decision you made” Y/n’s voice grew quiet, almost hesitant, pain and disappointment evident in her tone. Y/n didn’t want to say these words aloud, knowing her sister felt guilty, nonetheless. But bottling up her feelings all this time backfired on her.

“Don’t blame Feyre for what happened to you. If you want someone to blame, blame the King of Hybern, blame me” Rhys defended.

“Oh, I do, and his turn will come. But she played a part in what happened, I begged her to take her business elsewhere... I played a part in what happened” her voice faltered “we all did. And you? You want to know why I hate you? You made a promise that you couldn’t keep. You and your brothers promised to protect my sisters and when they needed that protection, you were all helpless. I should’ve never trusted you or let you anywhere near them and I have no one but myself to blame. I knew of the danger your kind would bring us, but still I allowed it to happen and now my sisters are suffering and Elain lost her fiance. All because of one decision” tears were now filling up in her eyes, but no one dared to speak. They all partly blamed themselves for what happened to the sisters and now with her confession, they know she blamed them too. A reminder that they have failed her and her sisters.

“It’s not your fault. No one blames you” Nesta finally spoke, trying to comfort her older sister. This was the first time she saw her break. She was always composed, didn’t let anything or anyone get to her. A faint smile appeared on Y/n’s face before she wiped away the tear that slipped and composed herself. She wanted to say something but had no energy left in her to argue, so she only nodded.

“You are right, it would put my father in danger. I won’t make that mistake twice” Y/n admitted before silently walking out of the room.

—

“What’s going on?” Y/n stepped out of her room as she heard noise and movement coming from outside.

“We’re moving to Rhysand’s townhouse” Nesta informed her sister.

“Great! And when was this decision made?” Y/n sighed.

“Yesterday… after you left”.

“I see. Is it because-”.

“Elain needs fresh air and staying here won’t help anyone”.

“Right… Was anyone going to tell me or were they just going to drag me there?”.

“I was sent to inform you, since-”.

“Since I basically told them to piss off”.

“Something like that. Let’s go” Nesta led her sister upstairs where the Illyrians and their other sisters were waiting, in addition to the one-eyed ginger. Azriel was the only one who dared to offer to take Y/n. He was met with sympathetic looks from his brothers and Feyre.

To his surprise, Y/n did not object and took the hand he extended to her. This time she’d be calm and composed. She did not say anything during their flight and neither did he. Knowing how she felt about him- them, he could not face her, as guilt crept up on him. They were the first to arrive and when they reached the front door, he released his grip from her waist and opened the door. “Where’s my room?” was all she asked. He informed her and she nodded in thanks before leaving for her room.

—

The next day, a healer called Madja was sent to examine Elain. To see if something was wrong with her, but she found nothing. She informed the sisters that there was nothing wrong with her physically and that she cannot enter her mind, since apparently being Cauldron-made gave them immunity against anyone who tried peeking around in their minds. This made Y/n feel pressure lifted off her, seeing as now neither her sister or Rhys can ever read her mind without permission. Madja suggested that Lucien try, seeing as he was her mate, maybe he could sense something they couldn’t. Although Y/n hated the idea, she agreed for her sister’s sake.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Y/n yelled at Lucien as Elain stood from her seat startled by whatever he did.

“Nothing” he claimed and apologized to Elain. After a while, Nesta walked out of her lesson with Amren and took Elain to the garden, away from Lucien. He informed Feyre that he felt her, but as Y/n thought he could not sense what was wrong. Feyre assured him they could try another day before walking after her sisters to retrieve Nesta for Amren. Lucien was left standing alone with Y/n.

“Don’t even think about getting together with my sister” Y/n warned.

“She’s my mate” he reminded.

“I’m letting you near my sister, you one-eyed bastard. You have done enough damage. You might be able to fool the others, but you don’t fool me. I know the only reason you’re here is because Elain is your “mate”. If she wasn’t, you wouldn’t have cared, you would’ve stayed with that dumb fuck of a male, his existance is a waste of oxygen. And don’t think I’ll ever forget how when my Feyre was suffering, when your ‘friend’ locked her up, you did nothing. When you tried taking her back by force, after seeing how she suffered. When you stood by while that monster made a deal with the King to use his land to slaughter humans. When my sisters became what they are because of you and your friend’s stupidity. You couldn’t even be a good friend, and let him spiral out of control, let him become the villain that everyone hates. So, over my dead body would I let you have her, but I don't put it past you to kill me to get to her, knowing who you keep company. But at least if you kill me, Elain will see you for who you truly are” Y/n said coldly, only hatred in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry about wh-”.

“You’re only sorry, because she happens to be your mate. Don’t waste your time with me, I will never forgive you” she walked slowly upstairs, knowing her words will leave a deep scar.

—

Y/n was on her bed reading, when two High Fae males appeared in her room. From the way they looked, Y/n knew they were the King's soldiers. She promptly jumped out of bed and shouted “Elain, get out of the house now! RUN”.

“Don’t worry, we’re not here for your sister. At least not that one” one of them smirked.

“Stay back!” she warned.

“Or what?” one of them blew out blue Faebane dust at her, rendering her magic, whatever it was useless “you can either come with us willingly and make it easy for everyone or you can try and fight back, but it won’t be fun, at least not for you” one of them laughed as he took his blade out.

“I think you know which one I’m sticking with” she gave them a smile, not letting them see her fear. As one tried to move towards her, she threw the lamp on her bedside table at him and jumped on the bed, hoping to reach the door. The other one was fast enough to yank her back by her braid, throwing her on the floor. “Is that all you’ve got?”.

“I’d say it’s not fair to fight an unarmed woman, but again when is it ever fair?” She managed to kick him in the balls before getting back up on her feet and opening the door. When she reached the stairs, one of them pushed her down, resulting in a few bruises and a sprained ankle, possibly a mild concussion as well, but surprisingly nothing more. She limped to the kitchen, in search of a sharp object she could use. The first thing she saw was a small knife, but it would have to suffice. “What do you think that knife is going to do?” a mocked laugh came from one of them as he slowly walked into the kitchen.

“That depends on your fighting style. It could be the eye, your throat or even land right between your eyes or legs. Who knows?” she shrugged “I’m not going down without a fight. The only way you’re taking me with you is if I’m dead”.

“The king needs you alive, but he said nothing about harming you” one of them lunged forwards but before he could reach her, Azriel ripped his throat with his bare hands, blood splattering all over Y/n’s face and nightgown. Before the other one could react, Azriel threw his blade, Truth-Teller at him, which landed in the middle of his face.

“I had it covered”.

“I’m sure you did. Are you alright?” Azriel scanned Y/n bodies for any injuries.

“I’m fine, but Elain-” she remembered as the adrenaline wore off.

“She’s fine. No one tried to attack her” his hands were on her shoulders, still scanning her.

“I’m fine, Shadowsinger. I just sprained my ankle” she reassured him.

“That is what’s worrying me. You fell down the stairs and only got a sprained ankle”.

“How do you know that I fell? And are you saying you’re disappointed I didn’t break my neck or get worse injuries?”.

“I- that’s not what I meant. Just forget it and I’m sorry about the mess and the blood” he gestured to the blood on her face.

“That’s the least of my worries” she chuckled.

Azriel had just finished getting rid of the bodies, while Y/n sat on the couch with an ice pouch applied to her ankle when Feyre, Nesta, Rhys and Cassian walked through the front door.

“You look like hell” Y/n said to her sisters.

“I could say the same to you” Nesta gestured to the blood still all over her and the messed up braid.

“You should see the other males” Y/n stood up and gave her sister a warm hug “I’m glad you’re alright” she took a step back and shifted her gaze to Feyre “both of you”.

The others arrived and gathered in the living room to plan for any future attacks. They informed Y/N why the King was after them and what had happened to the queen who jumped in the Cauldron after them, but still she couldn’t understand how that would happen, seeing as she went in after Nesta and nothing happened to her.

“Maybe it’s because you went in immediately after Nesta and the Cauldron did not realize she took something from it” Cassian suggested.

“But as I recall, you stayed much longer than Nesta and Elain” Rhys reminded.

“The ravens said that both of you stole something from the Cauldron. What did you take, Y/n?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t know. All I know is when I went under, I was full of rage and hatred and I wanted to destroy the Cauldron. Other than that, I don’t remember”.

Then, they went back to discussing the meeting with the High Lord and who had agreed to come and possible outcomes of the meetings.

“The queen might come” Elain said. They all wondered who she was talking about and she clarified it’s the one with feathers of flames. Everyone was confused except for Azriel, who came to the conclusion that Elain was a seer. They started asking Elain questions about this queen and then debated about going to find out more about her and maybe bring back an army when Lucien volunteered to go.

“I need a bath” Y/n sighed before standing up again and heading towards the stairs. Azriel rushed to help her, but she held out her arm, gesturing she could walk alone.

—

“I need to send this letter out” Y/n entered the living room, where the inner circle except for Feyre and Mor were sitting.

“Alright, Az will take you. I have some things to discuss with Amren” Rhys said. Azriel stood from his place and nodded in agreement.

“Where’s Feyre?” she questioned.

“Out with Mor. She’s showing her something”.

Y/n strode towards the door and Azriel followed behind.

“Don’t be late” Cassian quipped and Y/n lifted her hand up, showing him the middle finger before leaving.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me” Azriel said.

“I suppose it’s alright. It was either you or the General and I’d take you any day over him”.

Azriel snorted “what’s the deal between you two?”.

“He’s a giant prick who loves annoying people”.

Azriel winnowed them out to the dispatch center and waited outside when Y/n hesitantly walked in. She had finally decided to send that letter to her father. She informed him of the war that is to come, of how she and her sister were transformed against their wills and that she now lives with Feyre. But she also lied, telling him she’s happy where she is and that he shouldn’t worry about her. That she’ll come visit him once the war is over.

“Is everything alright?” Azriel asked when she finally came out, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s fine. Let’s just go”. With that he wrapped them in the shadows and winnowed out.

“Where are we?” Y/n noticed her surroundings were not something she was familiar with.

“We’re on a mountain”.

“No shit, that I figured”.

“I come here sometimes, when I’m feeling low” he confessed.

“Who says I’m feeling low?”.

“I’m not blind” he gave her a knowing look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say I can see right through your lie “you’ve been like this ever since this morning, especially after delivering that letter”.

“And what am I supposed to do here?” she crossed her arms.

“Take a break. Away from everyone. You can see Velaris from here. It brings me peace whenever I come here. I thought it could do that to you too”.

“I appreciate the thought, but peace is not something I will experience any time soon”.

“Then just take a break for a moment to breathe, unless you prefer going back and enduring Cassian” he joked.

“Fine…so what am I supposed to do exactly? Look down at the city and enjoy the view?”.

“If you want. Whatever makes you feel better” he sat on a rock, his arms crossed.

Y/n stepped towards the edge and looked over for a few minutes before speaking “it’s hard to do anything when you’re sitting behind me watching like a hawk”.

“Would you prefer it if I left? I can give you however much time you need and then come back to get you” he offered.

“No. Just- if you’re going to show me a city, show it to me at night or dawn. Everything looks more enchanting at these times”.

“Duly noted”.

“We can leave now, I feel a bit better”.

—

Y/n was knitting in the living room, a new hobby she’s picked up, when Amren walked in, informing everyone that Hybern had attacked the Summer Court. The inner circle were discussing strategies and exchanging information about what to do next, when Rhys decided they were going to aid the Summer Court.

Azriel and Cassian were preparing for war, checking their blades and tapping the siphons atop their hand, spreading their scaled armor across their body. Their expressions cold and devoid of emotions. Although Y/n had seen him- them in their full armor before, she never witnessed them preparing for a fight or a war. The sight of them made her heart skip a beat. Was that worry she felt? She did not know. She stood from her place to say something, but they were gone before she could. Nesta questioned if Mor and Feyre were going to fight and Feyre informed her that they would if needed.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @aehllitas-blog @nebarious

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powderblueblood · 6 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

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summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months

Note

(from wikipedia) The Malleus is a bone situated in the middle ear. It is the first of the three ossicles, and attached to the tympanic membrane. The head of the Malleus is the large protruding section, which attaches to the incus. The head connects to the neck of Malleus. The bone continues as the handle (or manubrium) of Malleus, which connects to the tympanic membrane. Between the neck and handle of the Malleus, lateral and anterior processes emerge from the bone. The bone is oriented so that

Omg, malleus (hammer)-sama real? 😱

This interaction is vaguely inspired by a really romantically charged wall slamming scene in a K-drama I’ve recently been watching—

Like Fire, Hellfire.

You ran a finger along the next line of the anatomy and physiology textbook in your hands, reciting the words aloud. The chapter was on hearing and the various components of the human ear. You stressed malleus loudly each time the bone came up, grinning madly all the while.

Beside you, Rollo paused in rifling through the bookshelf and shot you a sideways stink eye. He had come the school archives in search of knowledge, not annoyance—yet here you were, acutely aware of how to get under his skin, and doing an excellent job of it.

What an irksome individual.

Handkerchief to his face, Rollo snidely asked, “… Are you quite finished?”

“No, never,” you gasped, innocently batting your lashes at him. (Rollo’s left eye twitched.) “A good student is always on a quest for new wisdom, so I have to study up on the malleus while I still can.”

“At least read it to yourself quietly; this is a library, not a concert grounds. You are so rudely disrupting the concentration of your peers.”

Namely, myself.

He didn’t want to confess it—certainly not out loud—but you had been distracting him ever since you first stepped into the room. Rollo had stole several suspicious looks at you since, glances he justified to himself with, What must they be up to now?

Your goofy grin, your earnest and open heart. They all put him on edge, set the beat to his heart at a rapid, uneasy hammer.

A minion of evil, come to ensnare him into committing vices.

Rollo took a sharp breath to calm himself.

“They can learn about the malleus too,” you said, flipping to the next page. “I’m a free educational audiobook.”

“Then pick something else to blather on about,” Rollo insisted sharply.

“What, do you have something against the malleus?“

His face heated with fury, eyes flashing dangerously. If I hear that man’s name on your lips one more time, my head is going to explode.

“Just tell me your true feelings then,” you urged with a pout. “Tell me how you feel about the mal…”

He moved before you had even registered it. His hand was on your book, shunted shut with a CLAP!! You squeaked, leaping desperately for it—but a tall shadow had fallen into your path.

SLAM!!

A fist came down hard beside you, walling you in between a livid Rollo Flamme and the bookcase to your back. He glared down at you, face twisting with disdain. Gone was his neutral expression, replaced with cruel eyes and a cold, creased scowl.

You gulped, suddenly feeling like a mouse caught in a trap.

“You would do well to listen and be obedient,” he hissed darkly. “Do not speak his name, for you will summon him like the demon he is.”

The only name you should be speaking is…

He banished the blasphemous line from his head. Cursed it, damned it to hell.

Rollo tore the book from your hold and abruptly stepped away. He still hummed with warmth—an exhilarating blend of rage, envy, and, most disgusting of all, desire. Hot, burning, hungry.

He hurriedly stamped it out as though it were an item unintentionally set ablaze. Stuffed it in an ash pile, along with everything else burnt away to black. Happiness, hope.

Love.

“… I will be returning this to its rightful place,” he spat out. “While I am gone, you should reflect on your actions and repent.”

Rollo didn’t wait for a response—he was already gone before you could reach for him.

A hand of acceptance, rejected before it had even been offered.

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme x Reader #Rollo Flamme #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #Rollo at the Writing Desk

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emmitaaa4 · 4 months

Text

Addressing some fandom BS inconsistencies

Gwyn was shadow mommy, Az was shadow daddy, they were gonna have shadow babies with her extra super pliable bones.

I audibly chocked when I read this @nikethestatue (btw everything said in this post was on point). No but seriously this is how they sound, too many of them insisting that there is nothing wrong with basing the likelihood of a ship on who has the more suitable uterus to be with a man... cause supposedly they're just picking up on the hints SJM wrote for them? She likes babies for HEAs so ofc children are the end all be all of a relationship, plus there's absolutely no way that she could ever write an adoption plot SJM is literally adopted and has done it in other series. Selective reading strikes again.

A minimum amount of critical thinking would tell you that 1) the infamous *magical uterus change* scene was about nessian (& feysand), not about any ship; 2) if SJM had written Nesta changing Elain's uterus, it would have given too much away, not to mention 3) how disturbing/violating it would have been for Nesta to change her sister's reproductive anatomy WITHOUT HER CONSENT?! None of it makes sense narratively; my girl Nes would never, especially given the trauma they both suffered from having their bodily autonomy--and so much more--ripped away by the Cauldron.

This argument is so trivialized that I see it every other day on reddit/tiktok/*insert media app*, and yet elriels are the toxic side of the fandom? The ones whom people are allowed to insult, to ridicule for theories all made in good fun, the women that are villainized over a difference of opinion? Don't get me wrong, there's assholes on both sides and people keep calling one another variations of delulu (and the nastier personal attacks). But by painting this fandom-wide villain there is such a lack of accountability for the plethora of harmful talking points spread by other portions of the fandom. (I've been silently reading the anti-elain & anti-elriel tags for like a year, and I'm on tiktok. Yes, I have self-destructive tendencies).

Anyways.

I never understood either how people ever actually thought (or well still think) that gwynriel would happen BEFORE elucien?? It makes no sense logically, narratively, or in terms of characterization & the arc she's set up for Elain, Azriel, and Lucien. Yet it took one controversial bonus chapter for people to decenter Elain in her own story, that is make her choice of romantic partner--which SJM spent 3+ books setting up--Azriel's. It took one bonus chapter that soo many readers are still unaware of, to brush Elain off as a "sexual object" Az is using to distract himself until his therapist-extraordinaire Gwyn comes in and heals him all up. Because ofc she will: she's badass and not the "passive and weak and boring" Eplain (aka "Plant" or "brain dead gardener"), she fits the YA archetype of the spunky warrior-girl so she can handle his darkness, and SJM supposedly spent time fleshing her out because she wrote her as a LI for Azriel; she's made for him, she is what he needs to grow (I actually enjoyed Gwyn's character btw, just pointing out how silly it all sounds). “Next book is a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn” “Elain will turn evil or is secretly evil”. So you're telling me that SJM would pit Elain & Gwyn against each other in a love triangle over a man... all because of a necklace that was not even mentioned once in the actual books? Please, let's be logical for a second.

All this because instead of reading the bonus chapter in the context of the books, some people are reading the books in the context of the bonus chapter. Which now that I think of it is probably why so many people mischaracterize Az the way they do--because yes we know enough of his character to know half of the stuff the fandom diagnoses him with is questionable. Azriel? Entitled incel x fuckboy hybrid (gotta be the first of his kind, minute slay ig)? Interesting tell me more. No joke I saw a semi-popular post on here where a gwynriel said they read the bonus WITHOUT HAVING READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. I'm sorry, ship wars are silly and believe it or not idc who ppl ship, but it makes it hard to take some of the things they say seriously.

All this to say that the fandom isn't even debating the right thing. If you consider everything SJM has said in her interviews:

(she's been planting seeds for Nesta & Elain's book since acomaf; she knows who she is writing the first 2 books about + is keeping things open for the 3rd one--with 5 different ship options--which automatically rules out "Elain will close the series"; she said she's doing research for Elain's book in the ACOFAS bonus & there's seeds for future bookS in acofas; all she said recently about her beloved *heroines* and the themes of fate/true love/choice she finds *very* interesting & wants to discuss)

and if you also consider all she's written in the actual books (elain's characterization + the overarching plot in general & how she fits into it), then it's pretty evident that Elain's book is next.

The question then would be who is the MMC / 2nd PoV in her book, aka would acotar 5 be an elucien or an elriel story? Because logically, gwynriel was always a consequence of elucien. I honestly do not understand how people don't see that.

Oh and they always think they're gagging elriels with the "obviously Azriel is the next MC" as if elriels aren't saying the same thing? And we're the ones twisting info and not making sense. It's just funny at this point.

---sidenote: I realize that this post generalizes some things, and I just wanted to say that I have interacted with lovely eluciens / people on either side of this headache of a ship war. My hard limit is Elain haters though... back off I say 🤺 BACK OFF 🤺

---sidenote 2: I would have written this as a reblog except im not entirely sure how tumblr works and I get no visibility from them rip.

#please be so for real rn #elain archeron #anti gwynriel #anti nonsense #acotar 5 #elriel #pro elriel #pro elain #pro azriel #sjm interview #azriel bonus chapter #nesta archeron #elucien

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staarboyyy · 7 months

Text

unexpected morning - chapter ii [ prev. ]

thomas shelby x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; smoking, fluff, morning sex, oral sex, power imbalance, overstimulation, reluctant feels, thomas shelby please have emotions?? please?? LMAO, irresponsible beta read we die like real men

summary ; thomas warms you up on a cold morning in the office.

word count ; 2.5k

a/n ; yaaall im so sorry this took so long! requests will be open soon <3 love u all, thank you so much for the support!

The morning started as any other would - A strike of a match, a sip of whiskey here and there, and keeping the curtains shut despite the assaulting sunlight. Thomas' temples pulsed, heart flooding his ears as his thumbs rubbed the aching space, elbows resting on his desk. He glared down at the neat stack of papers, cursing himself for organizing everything simply to avoid actually reading through them all. In truth, he drank far too much last night. It coated his teeth, breath burning with expensive liquor as he grunted his way from bed.

Where had you gone? The few hours after the events of the night prior gave way for many opportune moments to escape; Flee in the dark, tell the secrets you learned in sharp whispered turned toward your family. And yet as he watched you leave in the warm morning sun caught his breath. He could not put to words the affect your body had on him, simultaneously intoxicating and ruthelessly sobering. Come to your fucking senses, Thomas.

He watched you slide your clothes over your bare skin, back turned toward him as you dressed yourself quietly. You were careful to collect your things, move them closer towards the door to silently redress yourself and scramble home - Maybe leave a note? You were unsure, hand swimming amongst the fabric of your thick jacket. You could leave a note, though he had enough papers on his desk already; Perhaps a sketch? Your ridiculous yet compelling idea was cut off as the shift of the wooden panels beneath your feet shifted, steps padding toward you in a slow practiced manner.

The fire still crackled quietly as you turned, holding your folded jacket over your bare chest as he approached you slowly, lips slightly ajar. Thomas dawned his undershirt, buttons loosely undone, sleeves rolled up and suspenders pulled tight over his wide shoulders. His slacks were wrinkled, unbuttoned, hair ruffled. Surely he had to know how he practically oozed sex appeal, ciggarette hung between his index and middle finger as he sauntered closer. You could nearly feel his breath against your own when his steps came to a stop, eyes gliding over your shifting expression.

"Terribly cold this early in the morning."

Thomas murmured faintly, voice crackling with the veil of exhaustion that still shackled him. The sun had hardly passed through the clouds that stuffed the morning sky, clogging the sunrise with a thick shadow. The light in the room shifted, the sun caked in pillowed clouds. He was right. You were awfully cold. Steadily, you dropped the coat from your hands - You hadn't gotten far in getting dressed, only able to pull on your underwear and socks before Thomas caught you. Was that correct to feel like you had been caught? You wondered how long he'd been watching.

"Are you cold, Mr.Shelby?"

You asked, hands reaching forward for your palms to meet his chest. It was sturdy, his eyes following yours, blinking slowly as his arms moved to instinctually draw you closer. One arm hooked around your middle, the other that still held the ciggarette over your shoulder. With a shake of his head, his palm rubbed your back in small circles. It was warm, thawing the rising goosebumps that gardened over your body.

Your heart pounded as you pressed against him. Just his touch was enough to send swimming waves of new sensations through you. You wanted his touch - wanted to cling to him in a way that was almost desperate. But the warmth he offered was not the only kind you wanted; You wanted to burn. You wanted his fire, his passion, his heat. You wanted to feel his teeth and his nails. You wanted him to consume your meaning, take your mind and bend it to something you could never begin to imagine.

He was more dangerous now to you than ever. No amount of guns, no explosions or bloodshed would quite tear you down as much as the look in his eyes in this moment. Recognition. Understanding. It felt real, you wanted so badly for it to all be real, to be - In love. To try, atleast.

You should have run the moment he set his eyes on you. Far away, further than he could ever find you.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke clouding his expression as he leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You shied away from the sudden contact, but he only pulled you closer.

“Come here.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, yet still commanded a cold respect. You could feel yourself being drawn in ever-closer to his warmth, his strength, his presence. You couldn’t help but lean into it; To yearn for it. The cigarette dangled casually from his lips, a small puff of ash falling to the floor before he plucked it, flicking it away from you in a quiet movement. He didn't even bother to glance where it landed as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You were trapped within the grasp of desire, both the desire to run and the desire to give in. To fall from the world, let it slide away as his hands caught your hips, unwavering and strong. He didn't need to stronger and bigger than you, there was no threat. You didn’t need to be afraid. His lips were gentle, tasting of smoke and whiskey. You pressed back, feeling a burst of heat racing throughout your body; His lips tasted the same as the night prior, yet the gentleness of his pace was in stark contrast to it. In a slow shift, your hands gripped the loose collar of his shirt, keeping him close. He took slow breaths between the slow kiss, eyes lulling open to admire you in a half lidded gaze before letting the fall shut, leaning in once more. It was nearly like he was fighting himself; His urges, how they so tightly clutched his mind, binding him to you like an altar, worshipping you with his hands as they fell and swept over your curves.

The kiss enraptured you, and then it was gone. His hands remained on you, coming to a slow pause on your hips as his eyes darted to meet yours - Thomas Shelby didn't hesitate, so why now? You pursed your lips slightly, as if trying to relive the feeling of his own pressing against them.

"This evening, Charles Alabastor will be having a private party at his estate; I'd like you to accompany me. Seeing as your family will be invited."

Your throat dried - Business. There was always the bitter tang of it, lingering the sips of whiskey and rough drags of rolled tobacco. Even you could feel it, wishing to kiss every inch of that taste, relieve him from the weight of it. Though you knew all too well, even as his palm held your cheek, patience would surely reward you.

"I'm not sure I have anything to wear."

There it was again, the small buckle of praise pulling at the corners of his lips as his hand swept from your cheek towards your collar bone. The backs of his fingers were cold, gently brushing over your warm skin as he gave a low shake of his head.

"You're unsure about quite a bit."

Had Thomas Shelby just mused at you? You nearly couldn't belive it. The man who ran Birmingham stood with you in the dark of his office, hair ruffled and a smile on his face - Playfully bickering with you? You couldn't help but mirror the expression, eyes darting down to the floor with a quiet sigh. Maybe that comment had been a last ditch effort to get away, a final subconscious excuse to not to fall; And if you did fall, atleast do it while running, not in his arms, urging for him to become impossibly closer to your body.

It was a feeble attempt.

"I may have something."

"Something is good."

He was a quick one. The more you spoke, the more he did in turn, bouncing from your energy without missing a beat in that cold voice. The draft of his tone came with the presence of his smile, warming the corners of his words as his hands pressed to your hips once again, pulling you closer. You caught yourself then - You wanted to know him. To know what makes him tick, how he takes his tea, who he loves and cherishes, who he'd die for. Was it so wrong? You could see it, somewhere beneath the surfaces of his sharp gaze, to be wanted. Or maybe just held. Perhaps that would do for now, you thought.

Thomas accepted your head leaning against his chest, holding you to his body now with a slow sway. It felt almost like dancing, the creak of the floorboards underfoot making way for a deep symphony, rooting itself in your mind as you matched his pace. Intimacy, the only word you could use to describe the moment as your bare chest pressed to his, your heartbeat rushing in tune. Percussions crashed as you lifted your head, love letters written themselves in your mind, sealed when your lips met his once more. He accepted this as well, eyes falling shut and fingers instinctively slipping to your thighs. He squeezed slowly, taking his time to feel you, understand how you moved against him - This is why he waited. Thomas wanted to experience you.

Your heart thrummed as his grasp pulled you towards his now moving body, stepping backwards and leading you to his bedroom - It was small, a temporary place to sleep during late nights at the office, yet none of it mattered as your back met the mattress. You swallowed, throat drying at the sight of his back turned to you, closing the door with one hand and shrugging off his suspenders with the other. His shoulders were wide, the white undershirt tightening over his body as he pulled his over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he turned. His gaze met yours in a silent beat, eyes lulling over your body, savoring it's vulnerable pose - And in a slow movement, he was on the floor before you. It felt wrong, reversed; Yet even as he knelt before you, he was in control. As his fingers worked your stockings down your legs, stark blue eyes pinning you to the spot as his rough palms groped over your thighs. You watched, legs opening for him slightly with a hitched breath, cheeks flushing. Last night, he hadn't gotten this close, this intimate - Yet as he pushed a warm kiss to the inside of your thigh, it began to melt away. His tongue slid greedily over the skin, teeth nipping as he traveled lower, going to gently rub your heat over your underwear with his thumb. He moved in slow circles, pressing into the cotton as his teeth sunk into your flesh with a quiet groan. You shuddered quietly, hips rocking into his thumb as your eyes stayed on his expression - It was as if work never existed. Business was a waste of time in comparison to simply tasting you. The budding warmth of his tongue replaced his thumb, soaking the underwear with a teasing chuckle. It was unexpected, riddled with a distinct darkness, his teeth pulling at the waistband - It was slow. Agonizingly slow as he pulled down steadily, keeping his eyes on yours until your damp underwear hit the floor.

Thomas' mouth was always warm when he kissed you, yet the heat that spread through your veins as he pressed his lips to your clit, a fire began to light itself deep within you. Your back arched instinctually, body shifting over the mans creaking mattress as you attempted to draw him closer to you. Your hands slid over his shoulders, threading through his hair as you sighed softly, content with the tease of what was to come. His tongue began slowly at first, the flat of it sliding obscenely between your folds as a pace that demanded your absolute attention. You could feel the tip of his tongue prod lightly against your entrance, dragging it until it reached your clit once again, lips wrapping over it with a pleased hum. You took in a sharp breath, hips flinching as your legs made a weak attempt to close them, the feeling of his teasing edging closer to a sparking pleasure you knew all too well. But not even a moment after you moved, his large hand came to palm at your thigh, pinning it down roughly to the bed; His eyes were closed, focused on the taste of you on his now lashing tongue, other arm hooking over your opposite hip to keep you in place despite your growing writhing.

The fire grew, each whip of his tongue against your clit stoking the insatiable flames that knashed at your body. It was electric. Nearly impossible. New to you, the sensation of a man like him knelt before you, messily lapping up anything you were willing to give him, letting your arousal run down his chin and jaw. The noises he drew from you were angelic, sliding through the fogging air as sweat dewed on Thomas' brow; In contrast, the sound of his tongue invading your body and mind was obscene. Messy, saliva stringing from his tongue as he groaned deeply against your sensitive body. The fire sparked dangerously, hot coals threatening to spill over the edges of what you could control - It would set the whole city ablaze, surely. You gave a sharp yelp as his fingers moved to spread you open, diving as deeply as you would allow him, tongue darting in and out as you wrenched your eyes shut tightly. It was a hot white flash, body and mind numbing as Thomas moaned on, perhaps even murmuring to himself into your soaked cunt as you came on his lips and tongue, rolling your hips with a drawn out mewl.

A strike of a match brought you to, eyes sliding open quickly as sweat rolled down your temple - Though upon seeing Thomas beside the rather empty bed you relaxed yourself slightly. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, a book sat open on his naked lap as his eyes fell to yours; You must have fallen into that blanketing heat, letting it drape over your shoulders in something near an embrace. The chaste expression on Thomas' face was soft, lacing in his furrowed brow as he moved to pull his glasses from his nose. He set them on the small desk in front of him, using his palms to rise from the wooden seat with a quiet grunt. Making his way to you came with a wave of smoke, the smell of his aftershave sharp on your senses as he took a slow seat beside you.

"I found the perfect thing for you to wear."

It was not a request anymore - Hesitantly, you felt yourself give a slight nod as his large hand came to hold your cheek. He mirrored the motion, nodding back to you as his thumb met your chin, lifting your head to find your gaze in the quiet moment.

"Will you accompany me?"

As Thomas spoke your hand met his, fingers intertwining with a soft hum - You wanted so badly to feel it. To step into a room by Thomas' side, dawning clothing perfectly made for you, eyes glued to the pair of you as he wore a smugly proud expression. Yet you knew deep down what it was, and what it had to remain; Business. Though dwelling in your imagination pillowed with the feeling of his lips on your own drew a response.

"Of course."

#bowies fics #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine

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wangxianficfinder · 10 months

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Fic Finder

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1. Hello, I need help finding a story. I think it's not on AO3 but on Tumblr.

In the story, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are engaged since childhood, but LWJ is not thrilled with the idea to the point that he goes to war to escape the wedding. However, WWX goes with him to protect him. In the end, in an attempt to kill Wen Ruohan, LWJ makes a strike that would kill both Wen Ruohan and himself, but WWX jumps in front of the sword and gets seriously injured. I don't remember anything else, except that the last words WWX says are that he wants LWJ to marry for love, to which LWJ replies, "Then you must live."

Please help me find it. Thank you so much.

FOUND? rebuttable presumption masterpost by sarah-yyy

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2. Hello! I’m looking for a fic that was on ao3 where WWX and LWJ were both wolf shifters. I think there was a mating run in the beginning and LWJ ended up rejecting WWX and he fell very ill as a result. They eventually moved past it but they didn’t get together until one day JGS I think it was drugged WWX and he was sent into heat. LWJ ended up protecting him and guarding his door throughout his heat. They did end up together in the end. @bigmeatycl0ws

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3. Hey! Can you help me find this fic?

A Canon divergence where wei ying had a son with lan zhan ( that he didn't know about) and a yuan ,where they grew up with a commoner away from the cultivation world after wwx death? ( they were friends with jin ling tho)

Lan wangji didn't know they survived?

I remember they helped the juniors escape the burial mounds after they were kidnapped. @karinasnowwwx

FOUND? Lost children by EonaSPN (T, 42k, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Time Skips, Post Mpreg, Wangxian child, LWJ doesn't find A-Yuan, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Secret Child, A/B/O Dynamics)

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4. hi hi hehe hope you're doing well 🫶i am looking for this fic which is set in space i think and the plot was wwx ship got lost (?) and then when they found it the people(wwx was with the wens) were in a healing pod but one of the pods was empty ... it had a-yuan who is wangxian's biological son and there was a shadow i think that follows ayuanthank you very muc!!!!

FOUND? Per aspera ad astra by Sanguis (E, 17k, wangxian, fantasy au, Implied Mpreg, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Space Opera, Secret Marriage, Kidnapping, Explicit Sex, Sexual Frustration, Dubious Anatomy, Male Lactation)

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5. Btw there's a fic that I forgot the title of. Basically Wei parents survived from the night hunt and seek Lotus Pier for help. They raised Wei baby there and I think Madame Jin, Madame Yu, and Wei mama did sisterhood vows? Wei dad found his siblings one being Sisi and the other being a Nie wife. Yao's mom was rescued from the brothel too and there's a whole chapter about it. I don't remember much but I remember it being so long and oooh Baby Wangji and Wei baby meeting as kids! Thank you!

FOUND? Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, CSSR/WCZ, JFM/YZY, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, 3zun, BSSR/LY, MS/SS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Horror, Nightmares, Family Fluff, Found Family)

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6. Hi there! I hope you're doing well! I have a fic I'm looking for and it's driving me a bit crazy. Wangxian is the main pairing but what I remember about it the most is that Nie Mingjue basically adopted him? He did live with the Jiangs for a bit I think but there was a big falling out so he was kicked out and since he and Huaisang are friends, NMJ took him in and was very protective of him. I believe the fic was in modern au. I'm sorry I can't provide more info and I hope you can help, thank you!

FOUND? Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks) If OP is looking for a fic where WWX was a IT genius and collaborated wit Nie gege's security company then this is the fic :)) / Lwj is a trauma surgeon and wwx is an IT genius who moonlights as a music teacher.

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7. i’m looking for a fic where wei ying hasn’t seen lan zhan in YEARS and lan zhan and his brother are some kind of celebrity (they’re on smth like the great british bake off) and lz gets into an accident which reunites them, and around the end wwx finds out that lsz is a-yuan. i think wwx was a doctor before the separation but i can’t be sure, it was modern au. thank you !!! @willesnelson

FOUND? Lifelong Confidant by saved (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Angst, Past Character Death, Families of Choice, Explicit Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, references to past alcoholism/substance abuse, Alcohol) I feel confident it's this one

but this one has some similar vibes: SIMILAR! plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Explicit References to Injuries and Death, References to Addiction, Doctors & Physicians, Falling In Love, soft romance, background 3zun)

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8. Heya! So, I’m trying to find this fic that I forgot to save the link to, but all can clearly I remember is WWX needing to wear a silver mask due to some prophecy or curse and having an arranged marriage with LWJ. WQ might’ve become a concubine at some point and I think that development lead to WWX moving from Gusu to Yiling and the Lans were very much not happy about it.

I’ve looked high and low for it and I’m really worried it got deleted. (if it was, do you know anybody with a copy? Because if I’ve lost another fic to the void I’m gonna cry)

FOUND? imstillthinkingaboutithmm: #8 is a price to pay by wangxianist, its deletez from ao3. I have a copy and if you want it feel free to dm me.

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9. Hi!!! I am looking for a fic I found recently. In it, ayuan is a a child of single parent wei wuxian and damages the car of lan wangji accidently, and so wei wuxain have to pay for the damage. lan wangji says the cost will be in 5 figures and offeres to give wei wuxian a job. so wei wuxian is paid for being a sub to lan wangji. there's a line in the fic which is said by lann wangji that he has a high sex drive. Also, this is a wip fic. Sound familiar to anyone??

FOUND? The Damage You Do by stiricide (E, 94k, wangxian, modern, mob au, Dom/sub, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Sex Worker WWX, Sugar Baby WWX, WWX Adopts LSZ, dub con, due to wwx feelings forced into being a sex worker by circumastances, Mobster LWJ, Sounding, Fisting, Object Insertion, Objectification, Sex Toys, Deep Anal Play, Enemas, Praise Kink, degradation kink, Size Kink, Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Office Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Consensual Non-Consent, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, warnings/notes on each chapter, bad bdsm etiquette that eventually becomes good etiquette, BDSM, Rough Sex, WWX Has ADHD, Cock Warming, Small Penis, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Face-Fucking, Blindfolds, Phone Sex, Rimming, Exhibitionism, Rape Fantasy)

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10. Hi! :D

I’m looking for a fic in which wwx thought lwj was in love with one of his siblings, I can’t remember if it was jyl or jc sorry. I can’t remember either of it was modern or canon era but it wasn’t too far from canon (like it wasn’t ABO or Royalty or Fantasy or some other kind of super alternative universe. If it was an AU it might’ve been a college or high school one but I doubt it since I usually don’t read too many AUs) My best bet is it was in the cloud recesses study arc but then again, I read it a long time ago and can’t remember much.

Sorry if it’s too vague, and thank you!

FOUND? Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, wangxian, canon divergence, romantic comedy, pining, protective JC, friends to lovers, misunderstandings)

FOUND? ❤️ For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ)

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11. Hello!! I'm looking for an abo fic where o!wwx is married to a!lwj, but it was madam yu trying to get rid of wwx, they didn't have feelings for each other yet. lwj is a bit of a dick to wwx along with the rest of the lan sect (except lxc), wwx is trying to make things work, but later he gives up on having a decent marriage, but then lwj realizes that he's actually amazing and really wants to be his husband please.

There's a scene where lxc helps wwx get an audience with the lan clan elders to defeat the waterborne abyss with his luring talisman, which is where lwj falls hard. I also remember wwx being forbidden from interacting with the younger disciples, and wangxian getting into a big fight over having kids.

I would really appreciate if you could find it, thanks so much for your hard work <3 @vellialavellious

FOUND? Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) Lwj and wwx have an arranged marriage where wwx slowly slips further and further into depression as the lans won't let him do anything or associate with anyone. Angst happy ending though!

FOUND? To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 20k, wangxian, WIP, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Misunderstandings)

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12. looking for a fic that has this scene: lwj drives wwx home with his car. both of them are in... a fraught dynamic? i dont remember the context, but i do remember them not being in the best of relationship (as in, theyre not... getting along well? i dont think they were in a romantic relationship at that time). when the car arrives at wwx's home (i remember the car being parked at a... field (?) so maybe it was an apartment of some sorts?), wwx left the car in anger or disappointment or similarly negative mood, with lwj pretending he doesnt care. after wwx left, lwj cries hard, the hardest he ever cried in his life. then wwx came back to the car because he left his phone, and saw lwj crying, and realized that lwj was only pretending to be okay. iirc their relationship improves after this, but i dont remember if i remember correctly

FOUND! The Flowers Of Autumn by notinamillionyears (E, 65k, WangXian, Loss of Parent(s), Trauma, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, CEO, Art, Museums, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s), Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Self-Worth Issues, Oral Sex, Moscow, Loneliness, Anxiety, Poetry, Insomnia, Dom/sub Undertones, Power Dynamics, Light BDSM, discussion of consent, Delusions, Mental Health Issues, Character Study)

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13. hii!!! for fic finders, i’m looking for a short fic that was basically jyl looking at wwx and lwj getting married and her basically becoming jealous that he got the life she wanted. that’s all I remember of it, ty if you can find it!! :D

hii!! i’m the asker from the recent fic finder, #13, and i don’t think that was the fic i was looking for unfortunately!! it was not in a series, really short one-shot- like around 700 words- and it was just jyl thoughts. thanks in advanced!! :)

Not FOUND After the conference by Ilona22 (E, 2k, wangxian, ABO, not JC friendly, intersex omegas, PWP sort of)

FOUND? Jealousy by Marinelifeclub (G, 816, WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Dark Jiang Siblings)

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14. Hello can you help me find a fic where Wei ying and lan wangji plays an online game . I don't really remember the name but lan wangji goes by hanguangjun in the game and they are actually in the same college or something like that and lan wangji knows that they play online game together but wei ying don't and yes Lan wangji worked at library and wei ying frequented the library. Thank you @sineofu

FOUND? Duo With You by Nyatci (T, 24k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, Gamers, Casual Gaming, enemies to lovers, Secret Identity, league of legends, Crack but treated very seriously, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Comedy, Angst w happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, Abusive Jiāng Family, WIP)

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15. hi. i'm not sure if this the right way to ask. pardon me if i do. i'm searching for a fic where lan zhan is a mob boss and wei ying is his bf. they are childhood friend but wy left when they argued and lz asked wy to go as he wants to protect him. but he went off radar and lz went crazy. they met in a gala that huisang? organize and lz asked wy to come back to him. the last chapter i think wy install a chip in himself so it's easier for lz to find him. it's a gift for lz birthday. thanks!! :) @aishiteru-amie

FOUND? So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 59k, WIP, WangXian, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Blood and Violence, Idiots in Love, Humor, Mafia AU, Modern AU, Flirting, shameless WWX, Confident WWX, Explicit Language, Mutual Sexual Tension, dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Exhibitionism Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings)

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16. I'm looking for a fic I read a while ago that involved WWX somehow getting erased from existence in exchange for a better world with everyone he cares about alive or something similar. What I know is that he meets LWJ again and LWJ falls in love with him and WWX parents are alive and eventually figure out who he is. There's a scene in Cloud Recesses at dinner where Wei Changze asks if LWJ will marry WWX and he says no (probably because of his parents awful marriage) and WWX is heartbroken.

FOUND! This is Elisa's thread fic. Super popular Shrek Au. Hehe

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17. Hi! I'm trying to find a fic in which Lwj dies during his punishment. The discipline handling the whip is thrown out of the sect for having killed Hgj. The disciple feels so guilty for killing Lwj that 13 years later, he uses the body sacrifice array to bring Lwj back. Wwx is alive on this one, and if I remember it right, he created the YillingWei sect. Wwx absolutely hates the Lan sect for killing Lwj.

FOUND? Restart from the End by EmBlu (IcyDeath) (G, 72k, wangxian, major character death, resurrection, role reversal, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt LWJ, angry WWX, WIP)

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18. Hello! I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian becomes a god after his death. He is given a heavenly abode that he can shape as he pleases, and he shapes it like the docks at Lotus Pier. Wen Qing’s spirit becomes his secretary, and Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s spirits are his advisors. At the end there is a scene where the remaining human cultivators storm into his abode across a long bridge. I think eventually Lan Wangji ascends and they become a matched set of deities. Thank you!

FOUND? Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, rape/non-con, underage, graphic depictions of violence, canon divergence,Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, GodWWX, God & Goddesses au, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell)

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19. I’m looking for a fic, modern AU, where WWX is a Hannah Montana style idol. Only he was at the audition because JYL was supposed to be there but she got sick so he panicked and took her place. So he’s a female idol, & LWJ is starting to feel like WWX has gotten bored of him at school &lowkey panicking. HeTakesSolaceInHisNewFavorite idol (WWX)&dreamsOfGiving‘her’FootRubs He gets to meet ‘her’ only while he does WWX’s skirt gets flipped. WWX uses his real voice to whisper Lan Zhan in his ear. @any-mouse

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20. It's MDZS/The Untamed. It's alternate universe. During the part of Canon where jiang Cheng strangles Wei Wuxian he's found by someone else. It's the one where he ends up with the Wen and they decide to leave the war. They find an abandoned village and take Wei Wuxian with them. I believe he loses his memory of the event and it has some permanent or semi-permanent side-effects to his health?

One of the Wen elders pretends to be a lost Wei relative when they take him back to the Nie compound with A-Yuan due to concerns about the weather/winter and whether they can survive it in their small village? They also deliver a letter or explain what happened to cause his state and that he doesn't remember?

I've found these ones and it's not the one where he ends up at the riverside village or with the Lan early or with the Wen and then declared a traitor by Jiang Cheng. He does end up with the Wen in this one, but no one learns that they’re the Dafan Wen if I remember correctly and he's not declared a traitor. Any help would be appreciated. @saharrashadow

FOUND? Go Hiking With a Blindfold On by Hauntcats (Not rated, 12k, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX, time travel fix-it, not JC friendly, no golden core transfer) Apart from happening just prior to the core surgery rather than Lotus Pier's fall, everything else seems present.

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months

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🕷️ A Melody of Spiders: Chapter One

A Melody of Spiders: You always tiptoed around your surly, grumpy boss Miguel O’Hara. Certainly after you had inadvertently fallen in love with him and didn’t feel like having your heart crushed. Or your workplace environment made awkward. Too bad your latest mission comes with a chemical surprise.

Warnings: Language, Jungles, Sneaky Shit, Unedited!

To Note: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader.

Word Count: ~2.1k

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How was it possible that you were sweating already?

You were on an Earth, Earth-311 to be precise, on a mission with Miguel to track down some technology that an anomaly had gotten a hold of. Miguel had wanted to go alone, but you had put your foot down. The hulking man had tried to scare you off with his blood red gaze, but you had only dug your heels in. Miguel ultimately relented as you were know for your stealth, and ability to blend into shadows. You were discreet. Like right now, when you were traipsing your way through a jungle to get into the top secret lab on this earth.

The jungle was a natural habitat for a spider, but not for you. You didn’t like sweating. You didn’t like crossing jungles with other creepy crawlies (a bit hypocritical considering you were a spider). You also didn’t really like hot, muggy weather. It was almost hypocritical that you had willingly come to this earth. Slithering your way across a branch, you peered at the entrance of the laboratory.

“Lyla, signature on the anomaly?” You asked the AI. The AI popped up from your watch.

“Inside, Miguel is currently taking out the east wing guards, he’s going after the anomaly himself. The device is on the opposite end of the lab. Disarming the security system for the ventilations.” You eyes searched for the nearest ventilation exit point, and found one. Swinging yourself over to the exit, you silently slipped your way into the laboratory ventilation.

You found ventilation shafts the best way to get around without notice, and often took refuge in such places when your social battery became too much. Crawling your way through the confined space, your senses altered you to each and eery motion detector you came across, and Lyla disabled it as you approached. Slinking your way through the lower level air vents, you came across the vent that opened up to the room where the device was stored. It was stored under lock and key, and surrounded by many different types of sensors. Most prominent, the floor and wall sensors. It was practically set up to be triggered by a spider person! But you weren’t just a spider person, you were Recluse.

So you slipped from the vent and landed light on your feet, practically weighing nothing. Certainly not enough to trigger the floor sensors. Skittering across the laboratory, your eyes gave the locked device another once over, picking up all the different warnings you could set off if you weren’t up to par. With a little finagling and the help of Lyla, you bypassed the tight security and swiped the device right out from under the labs nose. With the device safety strapped to your body and glued with your spider silk, you retraced your footsteps hoping for a clean get away.

“Y/N, we’ve got trouble,” You froze in place, concerned that you had tipped off an alarm without realizing it.

“What is it?” You asked, expanding your spider senses. Nothing was out of place, and no one was alert.

“It’s Miguel, the anomaly managed to expose him to a chemical.”

“And it got through his suit?” You questioned, tapping your watching to pull up the map of the facility and plan a route to Miguel.

“Chemicals were never an issue given his anatomy, I will have to run some tests to ascertain what kind of chemical he was exposed to.”

“Tell him I’m on my way.” Lyla copied that and went quiet for a few moments, then her hologram face reappeared on your watch.

“He’s telling you to, under no circumstances, go to his location.”

“Well you can tell him to shove his reply up his ass,” Lyla coughs, covering a worried laugh.

“Yeah, I think I won’t but seriously, Y/N, it doesn’t look good.” At Lyla’s words, you sped up your trek across the laboratory. It didn’t take you long to track down Miguel, and you were surprised by the sight of your leader slumped against a wall, suit ripping and glitching.

“Shit,” You breathed out, dropping from the ventilation duct to the floor next to Miguel. You stopped his stagger by wrapping an arm across his back and supporting his weight. “What the hell happened?”

“I told you to leave,” Miguel spit out at you, a few curses slipping from his lips in is native tongue. He tried to wrenched himself from your grasp to stop the searing ache in his body from overtaking his self control. He could already smell you. You had always smelled nice, hints of varying floral, now your scent was touched by a saline quality. He wanted to lick your skin to see if you tasted as divine as you smelled.

“You’re compromised and I’m not leaving you behind. You’re barely standing as is,” You told him, knowing that he was probably giving you his blood red glare at the moment. More Spanish curses left his lips followed by nonsensical complaints as you shot a web out and swung you both out of the laboratory.

It was agony to be near you.

Miguel had been through a lot in his life, but nothing compared to the prickling fire that burned within his veins and the intense sexual need to have you. When he had first been exposed to the chemical, the only reaction caused was an uncomfortable fever type reaction. He could handle that. But then other parts of his body began reacting. Miguel was restless. Agitated. There was a sharp pain that burst from nerves all over his body, periodically making his muscles twitch.

Now add you and your bewitching scent? The massive man was using every ounce of control he had to stop himself from turning on you in a heartbeat and fucking you like an animal. Whatever had been in that chemical, had made his attraction to you, the reclusive spider person within his society, a thousand times worse. Even with you dragging him though the hallways of the spider society, barking at others to move it, all he could think about was bending you over the nearest surface and burying his throbbing cock into you delicious smelling cunt.

Dragging the massive man into medical, you left him slumped against a bed while running to a station to find supplies.

“Lyla, get a scan of him while I draw blood to get a work up of what exactly he was exposed to.” You spoke urgently, robbing a phlebotomy kit and returning to the shaking man. While you tore into the phlebotomy kit and scrambled to find the needle and appropriate tubes. Turning to address Miguel, you were not expecting to meet a gaze filled with anger. “Arm,” You promoted, reaching for the one nearest to you. He snatched his arm back as his mask de-pixilated and then bared his teeth at you.

“Leave, I can do it alone.”

“We don’t have time for this, Miguel,” You returned, yanking down your own mask. “Give me your arm!”

This time he lashed out at you with a snarl, his eyes wild with a kind of tension you’d never seen before.

“Dios! Déjame en paz!” (Leave me alone!) Miguel snarled at you, shoving you away from him. You stumbled back, no expecting such hostility from him now. He was stubborn, you knew that, and grumpy, but not unreasonable.

“Miguel you need—”

“Do you not get it woman!? I don’t want your help!” He snarled at you, his teeth fully bared and eyes crimson with anger. gone was your survey boss and in place was the animal that slumbered within him.

“Fine then,” You stated crisply. “But I’ll be back to check on you in half an hour. If you’re not better? I don’t care how much of a fit you throw I’m taking your blood and running an analysis.” With that you turned on your heel and stomped away, planning on turning in the device still strapped to your body. Once you did that, you’d write the mission report and wait in a vent or empty hall until his thirty minutes were up.

So you turned in the device, and wrote up the report on the mission, leaving the notes a ‘pending’ because you were going to have to add to it once you figured out what the chemical Miguel had been exposed to. While you typed, your fingers angrily clacked against the glass touch screen, airing out your current mood. Miguel had been getting increasingly restless as of late. Not to mention short with his words. He wasn’t the most talkative, but he never to short it you like that. He never physically shoved you away from him.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Lyla spoke, rousing you fro your inner thoughts. You glanced up to her hologram.

“Is he doing what I asked?” You questioned, ignoring her statement.

“Yes, so to speak. He went to his office, but I did get him to take a look sample… it’s running now.” You made a pleased sound in your throat and went back to typing.

“Y/N,”

“What?”

“I know things have been tense between you and Miguel as of late, but it’s not because he doesn’t like you.”

“He doesn’t like anyone,” You corrected the AI. “You know that. The most I get from him is respect, but it seems that even that has run out.”

“He’s just… dealing with some things right now and that chemical only enhanced it.” Lyla tried to explain to you. “He’s frustrated with himself.”

You narrowed your eyes and gave the AI a screwed look.

“Do you know something about the chemical that Miguel was exposed to?” You asked suspiciously. The AI had to. She was smart. Incredibly smart. Her database was the best in the known universes so there was no doubt in your mind that she knew something about Miguel’s predicament.

“Look,” Lyla started, “All I can say is that the chemical is enhancing what is already there and it’s driving him a little crazy… okay?”

“So it’s enhancing his irritation with me, great.” You sighed, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. While you prided yourself on keeping your relationships entirely professional, you couldn’t exactly help the fact that you most certainly fell in love with one Miguel O’Hara.

Lyla wanted to face palm herself, well she was face pacing her servers cause holy hell these two were dancing circles around each other and entirely oblivious to mutual affections. They were being idiots in love? Fine. The AI was going to give them a little push. It wasn’t like this little chemical mishap would kill anyone…

“Oh dear, Miguel’s heart rate appears to be crashing…” You were out of your seat and sprinting towards his office before Lyla could even finish her sentence. “Well, I am going to get an earful tomorrow but in the mean time, I think I’ll make sure that Miguel’s office is soundproof.” The AI mused, fizzling out of view.

Miguel’s heart rate appears to be crashing…

You were in a panic over Lyla’s words, sprinting as fast as you could through the spider society to get to Miguel’s office. You one you shouldn’t have let the larger man bully you into leaving him alone, not in that condition, not when he was clearly suffering from severely debilitating side effects. You had seen the shakes, the involuntary muscle movements, increased perspiration… it had been foolish to leave him alone.

You use your spider silk to sling shot yourself up to his office floor. His office door was closed, but you could hear pained grunts and labored breaths. Well at least he was still breathing! You barged in, eyes wild and searching for the massive Spiderman. Your eyes caught sight of Miguel hunched over on the floor next to his desk. Your senses told you he was in bad shape. High fever. High heart rate. A surging chemical in his veins. You dismissed the thought of Lyla’s odd comment about him crashing since his heart was clearly working.

You rushed over and knelt down on one knee, activating your watch to do a medical scan. Something wasn’t right.

“You stubborn idiot,” You grumbled, your fingers reaching up brush strands of damp brown hair out of his face. Your watch beeped and several lines appeared, telling you that the lab analysis was finished and ready for viewing. Just as you took your eyes off Miguel to review the lab work to see if there were any flags, crimson eyes opened.

You’d been the last thing Miguel had been thinking of when his mind went foggy, and you were the first he thought of when he woke up. Your smell. You smelled so delicious. That painful urge to rip at your spider suit, scrape his teeth along your skin, bury his cock into your body, was back. He couldn’t help himself and lunged.

Date Published: 7/14/23

Last Edit: 7/14/23

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#across the spider verse #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel spiderverse

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lesinquietes · 2 months

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A little peek of the next chapter of Thief 🔥 starting to work on this nightmare again

Summary: As a psychologist at a psychiatric ward for villains, you’re used to encountering cruelty and treating trauma. But your days of freedom are unknowingly numbered when a new patient arrives. It’s then that you learn his compliance to your wishes comes at a hefty price — one you can’t possibly agree to.

Pairing: Yandere!Dabi x Psychologist!Reader

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“Think it’s time to take you back with me.”

It’s as though a bell is chiming in your head. It’s distant and faint. Part of you tries to implore that you heard him wrong, because the hell in which you exist is never ending. You didn’t, though; that was real.

You want to leap for joy. You abstain, of course. He bought your ploy of submissiveness. You fucking tricked him. Beyond that, you’re getting out of here. You’re not getting out of this arrangement unscathed, but there’s an end in sight. Being in the populated world again grants you the opportunity to flee without having to bypass chains, a padlocked door, and soundproofing. Others will know where you are. Maybe, if you’re lucky, a real hero will recognize you, and word will disperse that you’re still alive.

You grasp how fat of a chance that is. They found the remains your captor planted. Hawks made a statement. They probably had a fucking funeral for you already, giving some closure to your relatives. No one will be looking for you.

You also understand that it’s premature to amplify your hope. For all you know, this could be another trap. Dabi isn’t the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to emotions and anatomy, though he’s certainly cunning. After all, he’s conquered death. Bearing his trickery in mind, you dull the moths in your chest — fluttering in anticipation for light — and swallow your yips of triumph. The only part of you that’s beyond your control is a minute stutter.

“T-to the base?”

Graciously, he doesn’t pick up on it.

“Yeah.” He reaches down to take hold of your chin. “Old one got fucked, so we took a better one from a group of anti-mutant cultists.”

He was never so happy to kill people and steal their belongings. Those who subscribe to the idea that individuals with physical mutation quirks are lesser have their heads up their asses. He’s lost count of how many times someone’s called him ugly. Fortunately, he can hide his burnt form and avoid most of the bad attention. He can only imagine what people like Spinner go through, however, having a tail and scaled skin. He’s glad to cleanse this society of stupid ideologies while advancing his own agenda.

“You ready, doc?” He prompts you.

You nod quickly. It’s a bit too eager, but you can’t restrain yourself. You’ve been prepared to depart since you arrived. Isolation did a number on you. The dark is as threatening as the arsonists' touch. The lantern he kept lit for you only fuelled your nightmares, as shadows danced on the stone walls and you confided in your hallucinations. Lines have been blurred, and you don’t feel like yourself anymore.

#minors dni #yandere dabi x reader #fem reader

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lovessidney · 6 months

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Orange Juice

Please note that this explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Trigger warning: Alcohol abuse.

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader.

Pronouns: none, (anatomy: AFAB).

Requested by: no one, I for once got inspired on my own.

Summary: You and Gerard reunite, years after letting go of each other. You’ve both changed, but has the relationship you once had changed with the years too?

A/n: Okay, so this fic is inspired by the songs ’Orange Juice’ and ’Homesick’ by Noah Kahn. I don’t even know how the idea popped into my head, it just did. I also found inspiration from another song I used to listen to years ago, in my early teens. Please, if anyone finds it, leave a comment or shoot me a message, it would be soooo fun if someone got it! It’s not that unlikely, really, it would just be really fun.

Also, fair warning, this is another really long one.

The midday sun cast long shadows as you navigated the bustling streets, running errands for your mom's upcoming birthday party. The city held a familiar rhythm, each intersection and storefront a page from the chapters of your past. As you approached a corner of Main Street, a flash of bright red hair caught your eye.

There, across the street, stood Gerard, unmistakable in a white leather jacket and bright red hair that seemed to defy the muted tones of the urban landscape. You hadn’t seen them in a very long time. The years had etched themselves upon their face, but there was a spark of recognition in their eyes as they scanned the surroundings.

Without hesitation, you made your way through the sea of pedestrians, the echo of their name reaching Gerard's ears. They flinched, an instinctive reaction to the possibility of paparazzi or over eager fans. However, as they turned to face you, a genuine smile replaced the initial wariness.

"Hey there," you greeted, a mixture of nostalgia and curiosity in your voice. "Long time, no see."

Gerard's eyes widened, the recognition setting in. "Wow, it's been years. How have you been?" they replied, the hint of surprise giving way to genuine warmth.

You fell into the easy cadence of old friends catching up. "I've been good, just busy with life. And you, how long since you got back?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

"I've been here for a few days," Gerard explained, a nonchalant air about them. "Just taking it all in, you know?"

As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but wonder about Gerard's current state. "How have you been - and are you bored yet?" you inquired, a grin playing on your lips.

Gerard chuckled, a hint of mischief in their eyes. "It's not so bad. It's been a while since I was here last."

You both exchanged laughs, the familiarity of shared memories weaving through the small talk. The city, with its chaotic energy, became a backdrop to the reunion of two friends who had once navigated the ups and downs of life together.

"The weather ain’t been bad - if you’re into masochistic bullshit," you quipped, the banter echoing the camaraderie you once shared.

Gerard's smile faltered for a moment, a subtle shift in their demeanor. As you continued down the street, you noticed a fleeting expression of flustered emotions in their eyes. Something had stirred beneath the surface, and without a word, Gerard excused themselves, citing a sudden errand.

"Guess I've got to run," they said, the words a touch hurried. "Let's catch up soon, okay?"

You agreed, the unspoken tension lingering in the air as Gerard walked away. The city, with its familiar and enigmatic energy, now held the promise of unexpected reunions and the untangling of emotions that had long been dormant.

The next day, you and your mom found yourself at a quaint café, it provided a momentary refuge from the whirlwind of party preparations. You and your mom, coffee cups in hand, settled into a cozy corner booth, enjoying the respite from the hectic day.

As the steam rose from the cups, you caught sight of a familiar figure entering the café. Gerard, with that unmistakable shock of red hair, strolled in. Their eyes met yours, and there was a brief exchange of smiles before Gerard approached the counter to place an order.

Your mom, glancing up from her coffee, followed your gaze and then gasped in recognition. "Oh my goodness! Isn't that Gerard? Your friend from way back?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, it's them. We bumped into each other the other day.”

Your mom's face lit up with joy. "Oh, how wonderful! I remember you two being such good friends back in the day. It's been ages. Look at you both now, all grown up!"

Gerard, now with a take-away cup in hand, joined your table. The genuine warmth in your mom's eyes as she greeted them was evident. "Gerard, dear, it's been too long! You must join us for my birthday party tomorrow. It's going to be such a delightful gathering."

Gerard, slightly taken aback but flattered by the invitation, stammered out a gracious response. "Oh, uh, that sounds great, but I might have other plans. Thanks for the invite, though."

Your mom insisted, her enthusiasm undeterred. "Nonsense! You must come. It'll be like old times. I'd love to have you."

As Gerard shifted, slightly blushing, they found a moment to excuse themselves. "I appreciate it, really. I'll see if I can drop by. Enjoy the party preparations, both of you," they said, their smile lingering as they made a swift exit.

You watched them go, recognizing the familiar signs of shy retreat. Your mom, undeterred, continued to share memories and express her excitement for the evening ahead. The café, once a brief escape, now echoed with the anticipation of a reunion that seemed to be on the horizon.

Finally, Saturday rolled around. You had spent most of the week helping your mom prepare for the party and suffering through visits to extended family.

Despite the vibrant energy that enveloped your mom's birthday party, you found yourself grappling with an unsettling sense of detachment. The back yard buzzed with laughter, and your mother, the epitome of joy, danced from one conversation to another, her happiness infectious. However, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in your own hometown.

The attendees were a sea of familiar faces, but the connections that once bound you together had frayed over time. Older relatives regarded you with a mix of disapproval and disappointment, their subtle judgments casting a shadow over the festivities. Leaving Belleville and New Jersey behind had strained those relationships, creating an unspoken distance that loomed between you and your family.

As you observed the cousins who once shared childhood adventures with you, you couldn't help but notice the chasm that had grown between you. Their lives had evolved into a tapestry of commitments—wedded partners and children—leaving you to navigate the party with a sense of isolation. The threads that once wove a tight bond had unraveled, and you found yourself adrift among the celebrations.

The music played on, the laughter continued, but the festivities felt like a tableau of past connections that had faded into mere echoes. You navigated through conversations with a forced smile, exchanging pleasantries with those you once knew intimately but now struggled to connect with. The party was a testament to the passage of time, highlighting the divergence of paths and the evolution of relationships.

Then you remember, your mom actually invited Gerard when you met them at the coffee shop. Maybe you should call them? You flipped through the contacts saved in your phone while sipping some water. Sure enough, “Way, Gerard” showed up about last of them all. That number must be a million years old, you thought to yourself. But still, something in you told you to call it.

As the phone rang, you couldn't help but ponder the potential outcomes. What if they no longer used that number? Probably they had changed it after all these years? Leaving the bustling garden behind, you found a secluded spot and took a deep breath before the call connected. The ringing echoed in your ears, each tone amplifying the questions swirling in your mind. What if Gerard didn’t pick up? Or worse yet, what if they did?

The moment of silence hung in the air, teetering on the edge of awkwardness, until a familiar voice broke through the uncertainty.

"Uh- yeah. Who is it? And how’d you get this number?" Gerard's voice, distinct and unmistakable, reached you from the other end of the line. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you hesitated. Should you really be doing this? But then, fueled by a mix of nostalgia and curiosity, you made your voice heard.

"Hi Gerard,” you responded. "It’s me. Sorry if it’s weird that I’m calling—and that I still have your old number."

"Oh. Hi," Gerard's voice softened, and a brief pause lingered before they asked, "What’s up?" The question hung in the air, threthening to choke you before you figured out what to answear.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. The past and the present collided in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you questioned what the hell you were doing. Both of you had changed so much; what remained of the connection that once held you close?

"You still there?" Gerard's voice snapped you back to the present, and you debated whether to end the call. Yet, curiosity prevailed.

"Sorry. This is stupid. I don’t even know why I called. But I thought maybe you’d like to come over? My mom would be so happy. And the party’s gone slower." You paused, realizing the potential complexity of inviting someone who had battled alcoholism up until fairly recently. "No one will tempt you. They know that you’re sober," you added cautiously, hoping to ease concerns.

There was a pause on the other end as Gerard seemed to contemplate your invitation. "Uh. Yeah. I mean, sure, why not. It’s Belleville, after all. Not like I’ve got much better to do," they replied, a hint of laughter breaking the tension. That laugh, once so familiar, tugged at your heartstrings.

"Okay, perfect. I’ll see you soon, then," you said, a smile playing on your lips. As you ended the call, you couldn't help but wonderif this was the most unneccesary awakening of a years old crush? Maybe. You realised that. But at the same time, you couldn’t really let them slip through your fingers again.

You retreated to the front porch, seeking a moment of solace before Gerard arrived. Nestling into a chair, you reached into your pocket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, along with a lighter from the other. The familiar ritual brought a sense of grounding. With the cigarette between your lips, you ignited the lighter, casting a soft glow on your face as the embers flickered to life.

The fading daylight allowed the lights and candles scattered around the garden to become more pronounced. The ambiance was tranquil, a stark contrast to the party in the back yard. Closing your eyes, you took a deep drag, savoring the nicotine. In this moment of quiet reflection, you couldn't help but wonder what the evening held in store.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just focusing and the feeling of the slightly chilly air around you. You’re really hoped that the evening would turn out good. Then you realised that you didn’t even know what you would define as good. Rekindling what you and Gerard had, the friendship or the other feelings would be good. Great even. Yet skepticism lingered.

As you contemplated the complexities of the night, the soft sound of footsteps against the walkway disrupted your reverie. Opening your eyes, you caught sight of Gerard approaching. The sight took you by surprise; they looked absolutely stunning. Adorned in a white button-down shirt, a black waistcoat, and black trousers paired with Converse, it was a look reminiscent of what they might wear on stage, sans the makeup and occasional writings on their neck. You cursed to yourself as you felt old feelings bubbling up to the surface again.

"Hi Gerard," you greeted them, uncertain of what else to say. You rose from your seat, offering a hug—the kind shared by people who haven't seen each other in a long time, loose and awkward.

"Hey you," Gerard replied softly, their eyes reflecting a shyness reminiscent of their high school years. "How have you been?"

"What, since yesterday?" you replied, attempting to sound smart but unintentionally coming off as a bit mean. "Sorry. Uh, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I’ve been okay, really. Kind of bored, so I’m glad I’ve had my hands full with Mom's party. How about you?"

Realizing you were still standing, you settled back onto the porch, gesturing for Gerard to join you. You held out your pack of cigarettes, offering them one. They accepted with a grateful smile, and a moment of comfortable silence settled between you. You didn't know what to say, but the mere presence of Gerard by your side felt reassuring.

"Remember our graduation party?" they asked suddenly, drawing on a shared memory. You smiled in acknowledgment, nodding at the recollection of the night you and Gerard had hosted a memorable graduation party.

"That’s the last time I drank here. If I recall correctly, I ended up passed out on the lawn," they confessed, a hint of embarrassment coloring their cheeks in the dim light.

"That was ages ago, Gerard. Don’t worry about it," you reassured them, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. They turned to you with a soft smile.

"I remember you took care of me. I was so embarrassed," they admitted, a gentle laugh escaping their lips.

"Hey, that’s what friends do," you assured them. "And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

They looked up at you, a shimmer in their eyes that wasn’t there just a moment ago. They appeared absolutely mesmerizing, and you had to look away to prevent yourself from melting into a puddle on the porch.

Pulling yourself together, you shifted the conversation to Gerard's life—tours, the new record, and the various aspects of their world. Gradually, the exchange felt more natural, as if the years of zero contact were melting away, leaving room for the familiarity of old friendships to resurface.

You were sipping your drink, and when the glass run empty, you realised you hadn’t offered Gerard anything. "Do you want something to drink, Gerard?" The nickname "Gee" lingered in your memory, but for now, nerves held you back from using it.

They appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Alcohol-free, of course," you added as an extra precaution, though it seemed unnecessary. "There’s orange juice in the kitchen, I think. We bought it for the children, but it’s yours if you want it." You found yourself rambling, a constant need to overexplain, a bit apprehensive about saying something wrong. After taking a deep breath, you turned to them again, a smile on your face. "Really, I’m just glad you could visit."

A more genuine smile graced Gerard's face this time. "Yeah. That sounds nice. Thanks."

You both made your way to the kitchen, the quiet of the house providing a stark contrast to the fading sounds of the party in the garden. The dim light illuminated the room, and you retrieved the orange juice from the refrigerator, offering it to Gerard.

As you both sat back on the porch, sipping on your drinks, the atmosphere shifted. The nervous tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a more genuine connection. The night held the promise of shared memories and the possibility of rediscovering what had been lost over the years.

The porch cradled you both in a quiet embrace as you sat side by side, sipping on the chilled orange juice. The subdued glow from the nearby garden lights painted the scene in a soft palette. An unspoken tension lingered in the air, both of you acutely aware of the subtle shift in dynamics.

The clink of glasses and the occasional hushed murmur from the party in the distance were the only sounds that dared to interrupt the shared silence. Gerard's eyes, momentarily lost in the play of shadows, met yours, and for a fleeting second, an unspoken understanding passed between you. The nervous energy that had been humming beneath the surface began to surface, threading through the air like a delicate current.

You took a sip, the cool citrus flavor lingering on your tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. The rhythmic pulse of your heart seemed to echo in the quiet, a reminder of the uncharted territories you were navigating.

"I've missed this," Gerard finally spoke, their voice a soft echo in the night. The admission hung in the air, a bridge between shared memories and the uncharted present.

A nervous smile tugged at the corners of Gerard's lips. "You know, I always thought your laugh was the best part of those high school days. Still do," they said, the compliment wrapped in a subtle attempt at flirtation.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, a mirrored response to the compliment and the underlying flirtation. Attempting to compose yourself, you looked away, the faintest smile playing on your lips. "Well, your music was always the soundtrack to those days. Still is," you admitted, allowing a pause before adding, "And your smile... it hasn’t changed. It's still the most captivating thing I've ever seen."

As you both sat on the porch, the night held the promise of rediscovery, the subtle dance of flustered nerves revealing a truth that neither of you was quite ready to put into words. Yet, in the shared silence and the gentle glow of garden lights, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of something beautiful, a connection that had withstood the test of time.

The night air carried a subtle chill, and a quiet yawn escaped you. The hours spent helping your mom with the party had caught up with you, and fatigue began to tug at the edges of your consciousness. The porch, once alive with unspoken words and shared memories, now cradled a comfortable quiet.

Gerard noticed your yawn and chuckled softly. "Tired already?" they teased, a warmth in their eyes.

You couldn't help but smile, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Yeah, I’ve been up since early morning. Mom's party required some serious preparation."

A thoughtful expression crossed Gerard's face, as if an idea had taken root. "You remember what we used to do when we needed a pick-me-up and some good conversation?" they suggested, a glint of nostalgia in their eyes.

Your interest piqued, you leaned in slightly. "What?"

"We used to go to Waffle House," Gerard said with a grin. "Coffee and cigarettes were always best when shared with you. How about we head over there and share a cup or two? Just like old times."

The mention of Waffle House flooded your mind with memories of late-night conversations, laughter, and the comforting aroma of coffee. The proposal sounded perfect, a nostalgic journey to a familiar place where time seemed to stand still.

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, a spark of excitement in your tired eyes. "I could use a caffeine boost."

With that, you both rose from the porch, leaving the lingering quiet of the house behind. The night held the promise rekindling of a friendship that had stood the test of time.

The neon glow of the Waffle House sign cast a warm, welcoming light as you and Gerard settled into a corner of the outdoor seating area. The crisp night air carried the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the aroma of waffles, creating an atmosphere that felt both familiar and comforting.

You both ordered a plate of waffles and cups of coffee, the steam rising from the mugs as the waitress set them down on the table. The first bite of the warm, syrup-soaked waffle was a delightful reunion with a taste you hadn't experienced in years.

As you savored the familiar flavors, the conversation flowed easily between you and Gerard. The nostalgia of the place seemed to open the floodgates of shared memories and laughter, turning the evening into a journey back in time.

"I can't believe we used to spend hours here," Gerard remarked, a smile playing on their lips.

"Yeah, it was our go-to spot. Waffle House always had this magic of making everything feel better," you agreed, a fondness in your voice.

The playful banter and light flirting between you and Gerard added a sprinkle of warmth to the air. Each exchanged grin and shared laugh became a testament to the connection that had transcended time.

As the night progressed, the chill in the air prompted a move inside. The warmth of the diner embraced you as you settled into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking softly as you shifted.

With the change in setting, the conversation delved into the winding roads your lives had taken since the days of hanging out at Waffle House. You spoke of the highs and lows, the unexpected turns, and the way life had shaped and reshaped your respective journeys.

Nostalgia enveloped the conversation, weaving through tales of shared laughter, dreams, and the undeniable bond that had endured over the years. The diner became a time capsule, capturing moments that bridged the past and present.

As cups of coffee were refilled and the night unfolded, you found solace in the shared space, each word a testament to the enduring connection that had brought you back to this familiar haven.

The night settled around you both, and plates and mugs sat empty, remnants of shared laughter and the echoes of memories long tucked away. The waitress approached, signaling the end of their impromptu reunion.

"Closing time, folks. Hate to kick you out, but we gotta shut it down," she called, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You and Gerard exchanged glances, realizing the night couldn't linger in the cozy embrace of the diner forever.

The crisp air hung between you as you stepped out into the night. Remnants of laughter and shared memories could almost be felt in the atmosphere. Silent tention crackled in the air between you and Gerard as the Waffle House door swung shut behind you. You both bathed in the soft glow of the dimming streetlights and the weight of unspoken words lingered, the anticipation building in the quiet night.

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at each other, both trying to find the courage to say or do something. Anything.

In the gentle pause, you caught a glimmer in Gerard's eyes, a reflection of the same uncertainty that echoed in your own heart. The pavement beneath your feet seemed to hold its breath as you both stood on the edge of a cliff, the night holding the promise of something more.

Gerard hesitated, their gaze shifting between your eyes and the ground. It was a delicate balance, all the feelings and the unspoken questions hanging between you. The night seemed to elongate, the world reduced to the two of you and the shared history that bound you together. Your eyes met, and for a moment, the world went still and quiet around you.

As if guided by a force beyond your control, you closed the gap, the space between you and Gerard diminishing until your lips finally met. Their lips were a bittersweet memory, a taste of the past mingling with the urgency of the present. The kiss was soft, a whisper of what could have been, yet it held the weight of a decade's worth of longing. Gerard's fingers, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and restraint, found their place on the curve of your cheek.

The world seemed to dissolve into the sensation of that kiss. It was a dance of familiarity and rediscovery, a silent acknowledgment that time had not eroded the essence of feelings that had once been. The warmth of their lips against yours was both a comfort and an ache, a reminder of a connection that had been paused but never truly bruned out.

The softness of the kiss showed the desperation that hid beneath the surface. It was as if you both were trying to capture lost time in that moment, to bridge the gap that a decade had carved into your shared history. Every nuance, every gentle press of lips, carried the weight of untold stories and unspoken confessions.

As the kiss deepened, it became a melody of sighs and shared breaths. Gerard's hand, tracing a path from your cheek to the nape of your neck, held you close as if afraid that the moment might slip away like a fleeting dream. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that remained was the echo of your heartbeats and the soft, desperate symphony of a kiss that defied the confines of time.

As you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the realization hung in the air. The unspoken had found its voice in the language of shared desire. Gerard's eyes, now filled with a newfound clarity, met yours with a mix of surprise and recognition.

"I... I didn't expect..." they began, words trailing off as the uncharted territory of your connection unfolded before you.

The magnetic pull persisted, drawing you back in for another kiss, this time with a shared understanding of the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. The night embraced the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of a connection reignited, and you found solace in the knowledge that sometimes, the past and present could collide in the most unexpected and beautiful ways.

The air crackled with a tangible tension, the aftermath of the shared kisses leaving both you and Gerard in total emotional free-fall. The streetlights cast long shadows as you stood there, caught in the crossroads of what was and what could be. The unspoken desire hung in the air, waiting for someone to take the first step. Gerard's eyes, now holding a newfound intensity, searched yours for a sign, a confirmation that the connection you both felt was not a fleeting moment. A hesitant smile played on their lips, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in your own expression.

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the city. It was as if the world held its breath, waiting for one of you to break the delicate equilibrium that held you suspended in the night. In a moment of shared vulnerability, Gerard's hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent plea that spoke more than words ever could. The touch, an anchor in the sea of uncertainty, became a subtle invitation to venture into the unknown.

"We should... we should go somewhere," Gerard mumbled, the words hanging in the air like a question seeking affirmation.

The invitation lingered, full of unspoken feelings and desires. Your heart raced, caught between the safety of the past and the uncharted territory that lay ahead. A shared glance spoke volumes, a silent agreement that the hotel room held the promise of something more, a space where the echoes of the past could be confronted and rewritten.

As you began to walk, the distance between you and Gerard seemed to shrink, each step carrying the weight of unexplored possibilities. The city around you became a blur, and the anticipation of what possibly awaited in Gerards hotel room became a magnetic force, drawing you closer.

As the hotel's entrance neared, Gerard stole a glance at you, a silent question in their eyes. The anticipation swirled like a current between you, and in a moment of shared recognition, the unspoken was finally voiced.

"Would you... want to come up?" Gerard asked, their words carrying the weight of vulnerability and desire.

The question hung in the air for a heartbeat before you nodded in response. The hotel lobby welcomed you both, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, Gerards arms wrapped around your waist. A total turn from how they’d been a few moments ago. This was something else, something desperate and yearning. Your hands found their way around their neck, pinning them against the wall of the elevator. You wanted to be closer, if closer was a concept possible to exist.

Time slowed, a combination of the enclosed space and the palpable tension. Your nose touched theirs and your foreheads came close. It seemed as if the moment was stretching on for a lifetime. Just the sound of the two of you, breathing in a tiny space, nearly panting, as the elevator ascended.

But when Gerards lips did meet yours, they were already breathless, ready, needing the contact so intoxicating that the second had already turned into a minute. Their breath was hot on your face, a moan escaping their lips. For a moment you just stood there, looking at each other, trying to grasp what was actually happening. Then the elevator door opened.

Gerards hand grasped yours, pulling you along behind them. They led you to their hotel room. They dropped the keycard twice, hands shaking and nerves buzzing. The second they got the door open and had closed it behind you, they were all over you again, it was as if they were trying to make up for ten years of missing out. Their mouth found yours and their hands pulled you in tight, as tight as humanly possible, in the most perfect way. Gerards kisses were desperate and needy, ten years of pent up emotion. You stumbled backwards onto the bed, their body coming with you, collapsing on top. For a few moments, that's all there was, just the two of you, kissing like the world might end tomorrow.

Suddenly Gerard just stopped and looked down at you. "Is this okay? Like really really okay?" They sounded almost scared. You pushed them off of you and climbed on top, straddling their waist, leaning over. Your face was inches from theirs.

"Oh, 'okay' doesn't even begin to cover it." You kissed their neck, sucking gently, Gerards eyes fluttered shut.

Their hands were shaking as they found the hem of your shirt, tugging, asking permission. You sat up and removed it, quickly, before going straight back to work, trailing kisses down their neck and across their collarbones. You could feel them starting to shift under you, doing their best to disguise the obvious. You ground your hips against them slowly, Gerards breath caught and they whimpered slightly. God, the sound was intoxicating.

Their face was flushed and they were panting, and oh, was it the most beautiful sight. You sat up again, grinding gently into them. Gerards hands tugged at your belt loops, their eyes begged. Your fingers undid their belt and jeans and you slid down their body, pulling their pants with you. Gerards eyes were wide and, if anything, even more desperate than they had been before. Their boxers were tented and there was already a wet patch. You pressed your hand against their cock, Gerards back arched and their hands scrambled for something to grasp onto, finding the pillow behind their head.

Their breathing was getting heavier and they bit their lip, trying not to moan. You hooked your fingers into the waistband, Gerards hips bucked, ever so slightly. You pulled off their boxers and watched their cock spring free. It curved upwards and leaked precum onto their stomach. Suggestively, you licked your own hand and wrapped it around the base, Gerards breath hitched and their eyes shut close.

You stroked them agonizingly slowly, and Gerards hips twitched. You lowered your mouth, their cock was right in front of your lips. Just before you made contact, you stopped and looked up at them. Gerards eyes opened, they whined and their hips bucked again. You smirked and blew gently, teasing them. Their face contorted, this was torture. You ran your tongue up the underside of their shaft, Gerards grip on the pillow tightened. While swirling your tongue around their tip, Gerards breathing became shallow and desperate. They were trying not to beg, but it was getting harder by the second.

"Please" they managed, barely a whisper.

You took them in to your mouth, theirs fell open and their eyes rolled back. Without doubt, you took them deeper. Gerards hips tried to thrust, you placed a hand on their hip, pinning them down. Their chest rose and fell, they were struggling to control their breathing.

You hollowed your cheeks and took them deep down your throat. Gerards knuckles were white, their mouth hung open, they couldn't contain the string of moans, incoherent babbling, gasping your name. You bobbed your head, and their thighs tensed, their whole body shuddering. Their hands found their way into your hair, trying desperately to ground themselves somehow. It was a feeble attempt. Their head was spinning, the pleasure so intense.

"God, fuck, please. You have to stop" they managed between moans.

Your mouth left their cock with a pop, Gerards eyes opened and they panted.

”Is something wrong?" you asked, genuinely concerned that they'd changed their mind.

They panted, or laughed, you didn't quite know which. Then they explained. "No way. I just don't want this to end yet," they managed with a heaving chest.

You climbed back up their body and Gerards hands were immediately undoing your pants. Their shaky hands fumbled, so you helped. Once you'd removed them, their hands found their way into your underwear, eagerly finding the right places to touch you.

You laid back down on the bed and without doubt you pulled off your underwear and threw them somewhere on the floor. Their thumb circled your clit, you moaned and Gerards face lit up, loving the sound. Their index and middle finger found your entrance, gently stroking, testing the waters. You ground your hips into their hand, Gerards eyes closed and they whimpered. Their fingers found their way back to your cunt, and just their sliding over you was enough to make you moan. Their index finger entered you and their thumb resumed circling your clit. You whimpered and bit your lip.

Their finger curled inside of you and hit exactly the spot you needed. The spot that made you weak in the knees. "Fuck, Gerard" you gasped, and Gerards face split into the most perfect smile. It would have been angelic, if it hadn't been so damn wicked. Their finger moved in and out of you, hitting the same spot every time. You rocked your hips against their hand, Gerards face became concentrated. They wanted nothing more than to give you what you needed. You rode their hand and Gerards thumb never stopped, making you shudder and gasp. "God, Gerard, I need you," you managed between moans.

Gerards other hand pulled you into a kiss. Their hand left you and their arms wrapped around your waist. For a moment you were just looking into each other's eyes, savouring the moment. Gerards hands found yours and their eyes pleaded. Your hand guided their cock to your cunt, and slowly you sank down on them.

They filled you up so fucking good. Their hands found yours and they bit their lip, trying not to cum at the sight of it all. You waited a few seconds, letting your bodies adjust to each other. Gerards hands squeezed yours and they nodded. You rolled your hips slowly, feeling their cock slide in and out. Your head rolled back and Gerards moans were heavenly.

"You feel so fucking good. Jesus fuck," they gasped, their words were cut short by a moan. You rocked against them, Gerards face contorted, the pleasure was heavenly.

You leaned down and captured their lips with yours. Your tongue found its way into their mouth. Their kiss was deep and hungry.

"Fuck me," they murmured against your lips.

You sat up and started rolling your hips. The way you moved was slow and controlled. The sensation was intense, almost too much. The most perfect, angelic sin. Gerards breathing was ragged and shallow. They were already so close. You ground your hips, Gerard groaned and their face scrunched up. The way their thighs were trembling, the way they moaned and whimpered, it was all perfect. You did the only thing you could. Yout picked up the pace.

"I'm so close," they whispered. You leaned down and kissed their neck. Their hands tangled themselves in your hair. You nibbled their neck, their back arched. You could feel your legs getting weaker and you fought to keep the tempo up.

"Let me help," they said, sitting up, wrapping their arms around your waist, their cock still inside you. They started thrusting, slowly. Their mouth found yours and their hand cupped your chin. You fucked slow and deep. The friction between you was all you could ever need.

"God, you're so pretty. Where have you been all my life?" they whispered in your ear, nibbling your neck, sucking and biting.

"Gerard" you moaned, their name like honey on your lips. Like it had belonged there all along. The look on their face, the pleasure and desperation truly was a sight to behold. Their moans were so intoxicating and the whole situation was starting to overwhelm you.

You moaned and buried your face in their shoulder, you couldn't think anymore, you couldn't process. All that existed was the two of you, and the sensations. You could feel their breath hot on your neck, and hear their soft gasps and moans. It was overwhelming, and you could feel everything inside you tense up. And just the blink of an eye later, your orgasm hit you like a tsunami. Wave after wave crashing through you. You couldn’t even begin to put words to your feelings.

"Fucking christ, you're a dream. Please don't stop. I'm gonna cum," they moaned just after you.

You ground your hips and they gasped. "I can't wait to see you fall apart," you whispered, your head still spinning from your own orgasm.

Gerards eyes shut and they groaned. Their whole body trembled, their thrusts became erratic, then stopped. They gasped and shuddered, and with that, they came. Their nails dug into your back, their face buried in your shoulder, and they gasped. You slowed down on top of them and carefully laid down on their chest.

Their eyes were still closed, the room wrapped in the feeling of serene afterglow. Gerard's fingers traced absent patterns on your skin, a gentle connection that lingered in the quiet space between you.

As you felt the warmth of the afterglow settle, a subtle unease crept into your thoughts. The vulnerability of the moment brought forth a surge of insecurity, and a voice whispered doubts in the darker corners of your mind.

Without a word, you slipped out of bed, the cool air on your skin a stark contrast to the warmth you had just shared. Gerard stirred, their eyes flickering open as they sensed your departure.

You hesitated by the edge of the bed, while pulling on your shirt again. A swirl of emotions was clouding your gaze.

Gerard's voice, soft and filled with a vulnerability of its own, broke the silence. "Don't go," they murmured, their eyes searching yours.

"I just... I don't want this to be... I mean, I don't want to assume," you stumbled over your words, the weight of your feelings making it difficult to articulate.

Gerard reached out, their fingers gently grazing your hand. "Stay," they whispered, a plea laced with emotion. "Please stay. I want you here.”

With a deep breath, you made a choice. You climbed back into bed, the warmth of Gerard's embrace welcoming you back.

They pulled you close. “I feel like I’ve missed you all my life” they whispered in your ear.

“I’ve missed you too, Gee,” you confessed.

You settled into each other's arms, the vulnerability of the moment transformed into a quiet reassurance. In the quiet aftermath, you both lay intertwined, feeling like you were both exactly where you were meant to be and that the night would last forever.

As the minutes passed, Gerard shifted closer. They nestled into your arms, their head finding a comfortable spot on your chest. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Gerard's breath, a rhythmic lullaby that calmed you down.

Eventually, a gentle peace settled over the room, and you felt the weight of Gerard's body relaxing completely. In the quiet serenity, they succumbed to sleep, their breaths deepening into a rhythmic melody that harmonized with the soft hum of the city outside.

You gazed down at Gerard, their features softened in the subdued glow of the room. The vulnerability of sleep painted a different picture, for a few moments, you marveled at their beauty, before eventually closing your own eyes and drifted to sleep with them in your arms.

Congrats on making it to the end. Once again I’m very sorry I have no chill at all and write things way too long. And also, sorry for being horny on main, lol. But it’s simply the life I lead. If you have any requests, pleasereach out to me!

#My Chemical Romance fanfic #Gerard Way fanfic #Gerard Way x reader #Smut #Ssidney writes #Tw: alcohol

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vxmpswxn · 11 months

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‹⠀𓄿:⠀𝒾n the 𝓈hadows of dance and death, 𝓁aena morberg weaves her tale, a faint reflection of tragedies that dance 𝒾n the twilight, where art and agony converge 𝒾n an ethereal 𝒷allet of grace and darkness.

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⠀ ⠀IMPORTANT. hi, german is not my first ⠀ ⠀language but I try; low activity, 21+ only ⠀ ⠀selective ♡. wire: vxmpswxn. ⠀ ⠀_________________________________　❞ ⠀ ⠀keep reading for info in english.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─── 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐀.

Complete name: Laena Indra Kennedy (née Morberg).

Short names: Lena, Miss Morberg, little bird (just for Rajko), kitten (just for Cailan) & Ms. Kennedy.

Species: Human.

Age: 24 years.

Born: June 16.

Nationality: Swedish.

Parents: Diederik Morberg & Sasha Dupond ( † ).

Relationship: Married to @american-satan

Family: Nova Chloe Kennedy (daughter) & Conde (cat).

Eyes: Gray blue.

Hair: Long, straight and black.

Physical characeristic: Has a scar on each wrist from a suicide attempt at age fourteen.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─── 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓.

ᅠ◗ᅠCurrent occupation: Ballet dancer and student of fine arts. Works part-time restoring tombstones in a cemetery.

ᅠ◗ᅠInterests: History (specially the norse & slavic culture), ballet, art in general (paint, writting, dance, orchestras, etc.), witchcraft & rituals, alcohol (specially wine), criminal documentations and old books.

ᅠ◗ᅠLikes: Sundays. Smell of coffee in the morning. Evenings. Children. Piano. Painting. Noise of the city. Fire. Sweet wine. Anatomy books. Dancing. Order. Candles. Sweet things. Caresses in the hair. Cemeteries. Her husband.

ᅠ◗ᅠDislikes: Illuminated places. Mornings. Sleep. Gaudy colors. Storms. People who are too cheerful. Funerals. Dirt. Physical contact without her permission. Lies. Loud noises. Shadows. Cold food. High temperatures. Her birthday.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─── 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐀.

ᅠ›ᅠLaena keeps a secret diary where she pens down her most intimate thoughts and reflections. She often carries it with her while working on gravestone restoration in the cemetery.

ᅠ›ᅠHer mother died when she was born and, since then, has always felt guilty about it. As grows, the physical likeness becomes more pronounced, causing discomfort and further distancing from her father.

ᅠ›ᅠIn her adolescence, Laena silently suffered at the hands of her ex-boyfriend, Aksel. This dark chapter in her life plunged her into the depths of drugs and abuse. Her brother, Rajko, acted as her secret defender, liberating Laena from torment by eliminating the source of her suffering, though this heroic act remains buried in the shadows.

ᅠ›ᅠEvery time prepares for a ballet performance, she engages in a peculiar ritual: placing a small flower on the lapel of her costume as a silent tribute to her mother. It's a private gesture that allows her to feel the connection between her art and her maternal legacy.

ᅠ›ᅠWhen comes into contact with the shadows of death, she not only perceives their presence but also gains fleeting visions of how and when someone will meet their end. This additional burden of knowledge has led her to carry the weight of others' secrets, often grappling with the morality of interfering in the destinies of others.

ᅠ›ᅠFrom a young age, no one ever believed in Lena's abilities. Consequently, throughout her life, she has been subjected to a series of psychiatrists, all attempting to silence her gift with medication. Rather than calming her torment, these pills plunged her into a haze of disconnection and despair.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Greetings spiders! ⠀⠀⠀Stay hydrated & be respectful

#witch rp #horror rp #nsfwrp #crime rp #supernatural rp #fantasy rp #mature themes #userfakevz #r: married

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takeyourcyanide · 1 month

Text

That Which Destroys You, You Adore

AO3

Content Warning(s): Blood, Gore, Violence, (Technically Unethical) Human Experimentation, Mentions of Cannibalism, Vomiting

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn

Tags: Blood & Gore, Blood & Violence, Blood & Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Aftermath of Violence, Science Experiments, Human Experimentation, Mentions of Cannibalism, Sharing a Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Addiction, Sickfic, Nausea, Vomiting

Word Count: 3 733

Summary: Stein experiments on Spirit whilst he’s asleep, which leads to a very nauseous and ill Spirit.

Note(s): Here’s something in between chapters. I’m working on two age regression fics, too. People, at least on ao3, seem to be enjoying those just as I am, so fun.

Disintegration was far from easy to bear witness to; similarly to taking a lawn chair out to helplessly watch as every last bit of the supposedly stable world you knew is blown to smithereens, only rubble, ashes, and fire remaining - burning every last bit of whatever green is still visible into a cloudy, black nothingness, for that is all you are able to do.

But refuge could be found simultaneously within the madness, within the harrowing, yet captivating static.

It could be found within the maddeningly pleasurable sadism you tried your best to force into latency, within the pleasant curiosity - both the sadism and scientific inquiry intermingling and joining as one, bringing about a thrill with them, becoming a delectable cocktail of pure, and unbridled, fervent pleasure like no other.

Exacting what they consider violence on others was exhilarating; though for him it was not about the fact that it was barbaric or homicidal. He was merely interested in anatomy, in souls, in what lies beneath the surface. An inability to view others as thinking and feeling agents certainly helped, along with the enjoyment he found in the fear and utter trepidation in people’s eyes - for it was simply so incredibly fascinating to observe. It is as though they revert back into small children, pleading for mercy, and pleading for their parents; predator and prey, the cycle of life.

And he’d always experience the seething desire to find out how and why.

::::———::::———::::———::::———::::

The clock ticked on endlessly, the noise reverberating throughout the unnerving and breathing walls, reading ‘02:46.’ And it had been well over a week since Stein had last dissected an animal.

He trudged from out of the whispering shadows of his bedroom, through the threatening and chilling air of the corridor, utensils in hand, clinking gently together.

His frigid hand interacted with the frigid knob of Spirit’s door, an entranced and thrilled grin contorting his chapped lips, as he removed, or ,rather, opened the border between him and his favorite test subject.

Stein had often described people and their fleshy outermost layers as being something like wrapping paper, their insides and what lies at the bottom of the iceberg to be the gift within the gift box. Though you may keep the pretty wrapping paper until it’s no longer useful to you and throw it away, ultimately, that was much more of an adult thing to do. Even if he had himself utilized others to his advantage. And it was in moments like these where Franken felt the most immature, only after his own hedonistic desires, little care for anything else. He never once had any real interest in the wrapping paper covering the box. He may admire its beauty, and even find it to be rather fascinating, but at the end of the day, he’d always mercilessly rip it to shreds to get to the goodies on the inside; what he truly wanted.

And Spirit’s innards, the very recesses of his soul were what intrigued him the most. He wanted to know what the soul of such an interesting individual was precisely made of, what all his body was made of - even despite his extensive knowledge of the average human body. But how different was a weapon’s body from that of a regular human’s?

Truly, viewing photos and diagrams for the sake of studying and getting up close and personal with fluid-covered and eye-catching organs were two entirely separate things.

Stein made short and hushed steps closer towards the weapon, of whom had the idiotic tendency to sleep with his shirt off, which was only idiotic because he lived with a certain opportunistic meister.

As more and more of the redhead came into view, he could see how disheveled and sprawled out both his long hair was, and his body happened to be, the comforter only covering his thighs and a small portion of his abdomen, on which was already a few leisurely healing scars scattered about; products of the meister’s previous endeavors.

His grin grew into a disturbingly wide and manic smile as he beamed at the sight before him, his weapon-partner’s pale skin absolutely littered in markings. The sight was almost too much to bear…… Surely blood would be even more stunning on the male subject’s complexion.

He placed his utensils neatly upon the steel medical tray had he brought along with him, which he put on the bedside table, of which was only occupied by a lamp and a compact clock. He ensured that they each made little noise, taking precautions, despite his scythe being quite the deep sleeper.

As the final scalpel had been lied down onto the reflective and shining surface, Albarn’s fingers twitched, his head turning to the side, his lips pursing as a soft groan escaped him.

‘Perhaps he is having a distressing dream,’ Stein pondered to himself, tilting his own head curiously to the side like a quizzical mutt. His own life was one big distressing dream - torturous, even. Thus, he more than certainly could understand the need to audibly make that known, whether in the form of words or not.

Franken retrieved the latex gloves that had been impatiently awaiting his impending usage of them, tugging them roughly, yet carefully over his fingers, spreading his digits outwards, fitting the gloves over his palms. And with a sense of precision, and a sense of elation, he grabbed the appropriate scalpel, handling it with a tenderness he hadn’t the capacity for when it came to any other existing object or creature. He brought the blade down to the plush, vulnerable flesh of Spirit’s abdominal cavity, applying pressure as he drug it through the lengthy organ, blood beading up from the cut, slow and methodical.

A giggle bubbled up in his throat, on the cusp of his tongue, fully prepared to burst with the slightest of movements. Stein was left desperately trying to suppress the euphoric feeling from escaping from the confines of his skull, focusing instead on ensuring that the moaning scythe not awaken.

The ginger’s hand rose by a slight margin, falling over his face with a noiseless slap, as Stein revealed the blanket of subcutaneous fat and abdominal muscles beneath the sheets of flesh.

The meister’s eyes widened to an unprecedented size, marveling at a sight he’d seen a dozen times.

It never became any less awe-inspiring.

He took a rag, dabbing at the rushing blood, as he grabbed a syringe, entirely unsure of what wonder he wanted to perform first.

Allowing for the middle of Spirit’s abdomen to hang open, Franken placed the needle into a bottle of liquid iodine that he had been planning on using for quite the long while, filling the barrel with the halogen.

He smacked the aforementioned barrel with his fingertips, making certain he wouldn’t be injecting air into his partner’s veins.

Stein brought the needle down, on level with the arm that was simply lying straight upon the sheets, maneuvering the male’s fingers in such a way that he could forcefully form a fist.

A blue vein made itself known, as the meister lowered the needle further, shoving the foreign body into the unwilling skin. A bit of blood poured around the sharp injector, as he thumbed down the plunger, injecting just enough iodine to lead to mild poisoning, but not enough to be lethal, not enough to need an emergency room visit over, curious at to what might happen.

He padded the area with square, fuzzy gauze, allowing it to simply sit there and soak up any blood that dared to spill from the near-microscopic hole left by the needle, shushing the mildly writhing Spirit, whilst moving back to the enchanting incision he had made only moments prior.

He picked the bloodied scalpel up from off of his peacefully dreaming chest, his movements languid, as he scanned every picturesque feature on Spirit’s face. The weapon truly was rather beautiful, at least in Stein’s eyes. And that only made him want to rip him gracefully limb from limb even more so. Perhaps he’d keep his head in a large sort of jar, and he’d fill it with formaldehyde so his beauty could be preserved much longer. Perhaps he’d consume his nutrient-dense liver, allowing his beauty to spread throughout his gastrointestinal system, to be filtered by his own liver… He never had much interest in practicing cannibalism, however… Other than purely scientific.

The scythe’s eyelids were still delicately shut, both of his long sets of eyelashes almost cuddling with one another.

He and Marie were the most fascinating subjects he’s ever been in possession of; two picturesque, scientific wonders of his. It was almost too good to be true.

Stein took his scalpel, placing the blade at the very top of the incision, dragging further upward, the slice extending through Albarn’s thoracic cavity.

The crimson liquid rolled from the blade down to the handle, and off onto his subject’s already dirtied skin, as Franken raised his hand from the male’s form. He placed the tool down onto the tray, taking a moment to admire the buttery yellow, and the reddish striated patterns before his eyes, and just how mesmerizing they were.

He, then, proceeded to take a moment to sigh, a little disappointed he couldn’t take it further to the level of a full on dissection, forced to control and withhold his inexplicable desire, because that technically wasn’t today’s experiment, and he was out of any proper anesthetic that would leave his partner knocked out for the process.

Stein fetched his nylon sutures, readying himself for the concurrent enjoyment and dissatisfaction that always came with sewing his partner back together again.

::::———::::———::::———::::———::::

The morning rays of the rising sun shone through the blinds of each and every window, dusting across Stein’s face.

He lay with an alert expression, eyes having been wide open since he finished with his little experiments, staring daggers into the crawling animals on the ceiling.

The sound of anxious pitter-pattering towards the bathroom caught his attention, as he shot upwards. The same individual those rushing footsteps belonged to began hurling, hacking up a mixture of hydrochloric acid and their own profuse amounts of saliva.

He knew who that ‘they’ was.

The trials had begun.

“Spirit?” He called out, having stepped out into the hallway inquiringly.

The weapon whimpered, Franken listening as he, ever the crybaby, choked on a sob.

“Don’ feel good,” he slurred, his fingers gripping the toilet bowl like a vice, his complexion impressively pallid, somehow even more so than Stein. The only color present in his visage being his vermillion-coated cheeks, of which stretched out to the very tips of his ears.

Stein kneeled beside the scythe, placing his hand upon his sweat-slick forehead, of which was scorchingly hot. Spirit nuzzled into his partner’s freezing touch, shakily whining.

“You have a fever.. Would you like me to get you some Zofran and water?” He offered. “I can get the thermometer, too..”

“Yeah… An’ some Advil. Why’re you bein’ so nice?” He questioned exasperatedly.

Because I am here to observe every single symptom you exhibit that I have bestowed upon you.

“I’m bored and I find illness fascinating,” Albarn rolled his overtired eyes, leaning into the crook of his arm to roughly cough.

“Yeah, that tracks… Thanks, anyway,” he sniveled. “C’n you call ‘n sick for me, too? I clearly can’t go to school like this.”

“Sure,” Stein agreed, exiting the bathroom to retrieve all of the necessary supplies, including his cellphone.

Spirit’s hushed mewls could be heard in the background as he conversed with the staff working in DWMA’s office, more acid being excreted from his churning stomach.

“Here, Spirit,” Stein held out an ondansetron tablet towards his weapon-partner after having finished with the call, placing a glass of water on the counter, ibuprofen beside it, holding the thermometer for himself.

Albarn graciously accepted the medicine, putting it beneath his nasty tongue, allowing it to dissolve into his bloodstream, attempting to ignore his pounding temples whilst it did as such.

He massaged circles into his skull, his countenance stuck in a permanent grimace, as the meister merely stood, watching him, observing him with pensive eyes.

He was underneath the inspecting lens of Stein’s microscope.

“Advil and water, please,” he held his hands out expectantly, Franken handing him the gel pill.

“Do you want me to help you with the water?” The ginger popped the Advil, awaiting the pleasantly cooling liquid.

“Why?”

He pointed towards the weapon’s hands. “You’re trembling.”

“Oh, yeah… Tremors,” a disappointed sigh racked his shuddering frame. “Fine, if I have to.”

Stein grabbed the glass from off of the marble, moving to sit beside his partner, as he slotted the edge of the cup in between his most likely bitter-tasting lips, tilting it upwards.

He obediently took sips, swallowing the pill, only to place both of his hands around the glass and, with assistance from male next to him, swig every last drop of water down his burning, scratchy throat.

“Ah,” he put his relief on display. “Thank you,” Stein stood, depositing the glass back onto the counter, as Spirit fussed, evidently seeking comfort from the same individual who had hardly heard of the concept. “I wanna go back to bed.”

“Let me check your temperature first,” Franken spoke in his typical monotone, sticking the thermometer into his ear, the beeping disturbing the both of them.

A part of Albarn found his meister’s voice to be the least soothing thing ever, a public display of his apathy. But another part of him found its gentle timbre to be relaxing, its steady, unchanging rhythm something he could easily fall asleep to.

“39 degrees,” Stein read aloud, Spirit groaning in response, as deliberately sitting it next to the emptied glass. “All right, let’s go… Here,” he lifted the scythe up by his armpits, shifting him and allowing him to lean against his form, Spirit’s head resting against the top of his own.

Franken pushed open Spirit’s bedroom door, assisting him with getting settled under the comforter, pulling the blanket all the way up to his collarbones.

The scythe winced, sucking in air through his gnashing teeth, moaning in pain.

“What is it?” Stein knowingly asked.

“I’ve b’n having, like.. not only inner stomach pain, but outward, if that makes sense. It’s like my skin… and even some of the deeper layers of my skin are really tender, an’ it hurts when I move in certain ways,” he deliriously elucidated. “An’ I don’ ev’n know how I ended up with this shirt on me. I could’ve sworn I’d fall’n asleep with my shirt off… Maybe I sleep walked? Or jus’, actually, forgot to take it off?”

Stein shrugged his shoulders, inching farther and farther away from Spirit - much too far for his liking.

“You’re not leaving are you?” Albarn rushed out, almost sounded panicked.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it,” he slinked under the covers with his partner. “You actually want me to stay?

The redhead appeared almost bashful as he replied, his already vibrant cheeks becoming rosier. “Well, um… I don’ really like bein’ alone like this. I c’n hardly ev’n think, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled, making himself comfortable on the weapon’s awfully silky sheets.

“Oh! An’, uh… My right arm’s b’n a little sore, too… A li’le bruised.. ‘M starting to think I really am a sleep walker..”

“You’re ending up like me,” he jested with a smirk.

“I really am! I wake up with cuts an’ bruises an’ shit all the time, an’ I never know how I got ‘em! Like, huge scars, too! Kinda like you… I don’ know how you manage to wake up with new bruises all the time, but now I do, I guess,” he allowed for the weight of his eyelids to emerge victoriously as they fell, a particularly piteous and raspy cough beating its way from out of his oral cavity. “There was ev’n a little speck of blood on my sheets, I think, when I woke up.”

I suppose I got a little sloppy this time.

“Going to sleep?” Stein asked, suppressing a pleased grin as he imagined how the previously gaping hole in the male’s abdomen must look now.

“Thin’ so,” he murmured sleepily.

Humans were so adorable sometimes, along with fascinating. How could Spirit possibly fall asleep with an individual such as Stein merely right beside him? Franken often questioned whether or not he should even sleep in the same apartment as his weapon… And really in the presence of anyone, which only served to worsen his treacherous and horrid insomnia.. Though, perhaps that was a good thing. He knew the truth. Perhaps this was Spirit’s way of tricking him into believing that he was safe to sleep, and he’d exact his revenge on him come nightfall.

Whatever the case may be, the moment the scythe’s breaths steady to a certain point, and his wheezing ceases, he’d examine the infuriated scar that was clearly forming. He’d need to take the stitches out rather early and hope for the best… Or perhaps he could utilize a little ability he had been working on..

Albarn soon stopped moving entirely, though Franken still poked him a couple of times simply to make sure.

He soundlessly twisted himself out of the coziness of his partner’s comforter, tip-toeing over to where he tranquilly rested, pulling the covers down slowly and gently. The ginger whined a long complaint out in his sleep, but as soon as Stein began deliberately running fingers through his scalp, he returned to his former contented state.

How easy.

He found the hem of the male’s shirt, lifting it warily, as the owner writhed. The sight before him was a heavenly one; the cut was enraged, ruby red and pinkish, the stitches holding the skin together evidently against its will.

With ungloved hands, Stein pulled each and every section of the thread out conscientiously, a little bit of blood smearing on his fingertips.

The incision reopened - not to completion, but it could still most certainly be classified as having been open, as the mad meister took an attentive seat on the edge of the bed, just barely not touching the older boy’s legs.

He had been rigorously practicing it for a long while, practicing making sutures with his soul wavelength, and it had been going rather well, but he never once tested it on a breathing human subject, despite the passionate desire and impulse to do so. Thus, as he eyed the angry wound, he muttered as quietly as possible, “Soul thread sutures,” holding a focused hand above the injury, concentrating on his static-filled wavelength, as he heard the faint sound of skin being sewn together.

His soul-curated stitches were crafted in such a way as to not be visible to the naked eye, to anyone’s naked eye, not simply just so he could continue his non-consensual and delightfully unethical human experiments, but also so he could utilize them on the battlefield - leaving enemies sewn to the ground and unable to continue fighting, confused as to what has caused their sudden paralysis.

It was nearly flawless.

And as he opened his eyes, the incision was sutured perfectly together, the skin almost appearing as one again, if it weren’t for the long line going down the scythe’s middle. It, thankfully, just looked like a healing and irritated scar now.

With this, and hopefully with a shipment of proper anesthetics, he could, soon, proceed with a true dissection. Of course, he couldn’t detach his organs from the rest of his body, but he could definitely have a little look around, and analyze whatever differences and similarities exist between weapon-human bodies, and average human bodies. He could observe what this most engrossing and riveting scythe was made of.

Just the thought was enough to brighten his morning in a way no other thought or other thing could. He didn’t just want to dissect him and everything else, he needed to dissect him and everything else. There was nothing else that made him feel so… good. He might even give up cigarettes if it meant he could dissect all day, everyday…. If he could face no repercussions for his actions. Sure, the possible consequences add an obvious layer of thrill to the vivisections, but they were such godsends on their own, that they didn’t need that extra layer. He couldn’t care less whether there were consequences or not - dissection, both metaphorical and physical, and observation were all that mattered to the unhinged, maladjusted scientist - without it, what would he be? Who would he be? How would he be?

He bit into his lip, hard enough to draw a teensy bit of blood, as he tittered, pulling the weapon’s shirt back down, and tossing the covers back over him.

If he lost the ability to dissect, he’d lose everything. He owes his life to dissection, to the scientific method itself - it’s how he’s survive in a world not suited for the likes of him.

It was an addictive force.. It was his drug, besides the nicotine. It was his only shred of will to live. But what would become of him if he indulged in it too much, if he fell into it like an abyssal hole he failed to detect? What would become of him if he allowed himself to disintegrate, allowed it all to slip through his fingers? But it felt so wondrous…

It was the static that felt as gut-wrenching as a crucifixion. And surely he’d be crucified if he were to continue. But he had to. What else would he do? Dissection was his life, it was the oxygen he breathed, even the static had become a cruel mistress to him. Even if he was being destroyed, where would he go in the forest without that vintage radio? Without his scalpels?

But he could never put his steel blade down at the end of the day. Nor could he release his hold on the radio and allow himself to be taken away by those shouting endlessly into the waves of static, pleading for his return, or really, his first steps into their world.

Perhaps he’d just allow for the thievery of his soul. He’d observe, sitting in a lawn chair as everything and everyone crashed and burned.

After all, he could never learn to properly care.

<——————>

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anticanonsposts · 5 months

Text

Lunar Embrace-Chapter 7

cw: fem pronouns used, NSFW-mdni, references to female anatomy, p in v, oral m receiving, others?

wc: 2,941

Turns out, y/n wanting to stay, as long as König liked, really had nothing to do with it. The weather outside had gotten significantly worse from when she first arrived. There was a blizzard that had gone on for nearly three days. During which the two cooked together, cleaned together, and talked for hours on end. König did his best to answer any questions y/n had about his condition. But after each question he saw nothing but pure curiosity in her eyes. No whisper of fear, no shadow of doubt or apprehension. She seemed to trust him completely, at least trust that he wasn’t going to hurt her. Something he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. He had always hated what he had become, hated what he did, feared that at some point he would lose control. He simply couldn’t understand why she had such admiration for, well, a monster.

Right now she lay in bed next to him, fire crackling downstairs, the heat slowly traveling upwards. He laid on his side and she lay next to him buried under several thick quilts. She had mozied up there and fallen asleep while he braved the storm and collected enough firewood for the night. He had been very hesitant and intentional with his touches since he confessed to her, he didn’t want to push it. So he just laid there watching her, lying on her stomach, back rising and falling with each deep breath she took. He was still too afraid to touch her too much. Having sex with her felt like being in heaven without ever earning the passage there. But he still denied himself that pleasure. The only time he welcomed her touch was when she initiated it. When she crawled to him in her sleep, or asked to join him on the couch or in the shower. He welcomed up with a lot of enthusiasm, enough so that she didn’t feel unwanted.

A prime example was a couple days prior, after he had confessed to her who he really was. After finishing their meal, and cleaning up together, he went to take a shower. He wanted to just stand under the hot water in hopes that it would melt at least some of his stress away. Distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t hear her softly patter into the bathroom. Only being broken out of his trance when he heard a soft knock on the door. Followed by a “Do you want some company?”

“Yes please.” he responds, already feeling a flush spread across his cheeks, even under the hot water.

She then slinks in and quickly strips off her clothes, folding them before placing them on the ground. Gently, she opens the shower door and steps in. Stepping towards him she gently pulls him down by the back of the neck, bringing his face to hers, and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Why don’t you relax for a minute? Hmm?” she hums grabbing whatever bar soap or body wash and starts to lather it on the washcloth König had been holding in his hand. Then she gently pushed him back against one of the shower walls, so that he was still under the water. She started to gently scrub his torso down, eventually he let his head lean back and closed his eyes.

What followed was one of the softest, most cherished moments he had ever shared with someone. The care and time she took with his body, her soft touches, getting even softer when going over his wounds and scars. At first, he found his muscles tensing and holding his breath as her fingers kindly danced over each scar. Each time she would look up into his eyes and softly exhale, which prompted him to do the same. After about 5 minutes he was accustomed to her patterns and allowed his entire body to relax, completely melting in her touch.

She had given him a taste of intimacy that he had never felt before, or even knew existed before. A softness that he honestly hadn’t felt since his mother, which felt like eons to him now. He was accustomed to the harshest parts of the world. He had suffered numerous wounds that were only skin deep. But the isolation that came with his condition was the worst. Even as a young boy, all he yearned for was a friend, someone to share his feelings with, something that had been robbed from him. But she started to make all of this better. While letting her in was a welcomed change, it also unlocked new fears within König. What would he do if he lost her, if she left, if something happened to her. It was still so early but he already felt the growing understanding that if anything or anyone harmed her, he would let the side of himself out that he tries every day to keep buried.

As if she could hear his ruminations, y/n stirred from her sleep, eyes scrunching open. König quickly turned from his side to his back, desperately trying to make it seem like he had also dozed off and was not just staring at her.

“Mmm-do you want to join me under here?” she hums leaning herself up on her elbows so that she can better see him. “I’d appreciate the company, the heat” she continued, pulling herself toward him, propping herself up on his chest. Since she initiated, he pulled her closer, moving himself under a few of the quilts, wrapping his arms around her. He still hadn’t quite gotten used to her soft touches, and warm, round body, especially when it was pressed against his. She let out a contented hum and burrows her face where his neck meets his shoulder.

The combination of her leg wrapping around his, her soft breath on his neck, and her hand running up his chest made his pants tighten. He simply couldn’t believe this, she had so much as breathed on him and he was riled up. Here she was giving him more soft touches, giving him hope that even someone like him deserved soft touches, and grace, and kindness, especially from someone so understanding.

He was not alone however, with her clothed core gently rubbing against his thigh. Smiling to herself against his neck she started to trace kisses along the base of his neck. Feeling a twitch against her leg, from his pants, her smile grows wider. She loved how she had this effect on him, he made it so easy. He was just so open to anything she had to give him and he was so eager. She almost felt bad, how easily she made this colossal man putty in her hands. His quick and fervent response to each and every one of her touches.

Maneuvering her body, she situates herself so that she is straddling his lap, her core pressured just below his belly button, not giving him the friction she knows he wants. He responds to her touch and glides his hands up her thighs, ending at her love handles, giving them gentle massages. She cradles his face in her hands, giving him timid, gentle kisses to his lips. She’s teasing him, as if this is the first time she has ever kissed him. Slowly opening her mouth more and more, not wanting to push him. He knew it too, and he was eating it up.

For about thirty more seconds.

Next thing they know, König is sitting up, one arm pressed around her, hand spread and pressed against the middle of her back. And the other bracing himself up from behind. The sudden change caused y/n’s body to shift lower so her core was pressed right up against his. Pushing his chest against hers, he deepened the kiss while also flattening her boobs against his chest.

Finally she gives into him and grinds her core down against his, earning a groan from him. After a few more ministrations he flips the two of them, so that she is resting on her back.

“Do you want to continue?” he asks her, panting. He wants to check and be safe, seeing as this is still one of their first few times together.

“Yes.” she says fervently tracing her hands along his forearms, hands pressed against the bed on either side of her.

Then she lifts her top layers off and exposes her chest to him and he all but faints. Still taken aback at how beautiful her plump, chubby body is. Completely entranced by how her flesh moves under his hands, how she pokes out from between his fingers. And she’s just laying there, beaming up at him, she knows, she knows exactly what she does to him. And he couldn't fault her for it.

Again, he hunches over lining her chest with kisses, touching every part of her body he can. Humming in response she arches her back into him as he takes each of her nipples into his mouth.

After letting him have his fun she gently pushes him to sit back up, and starts to pull at the bottom of his shirt. He understands right away and takes it the rest of the way off for her. She quickly starts shimming out of her shorts and he returns the favor and quickly stands up to take off his pants.

Cock springing up, König moves to get back on the bed but even faster, y/n moves down to the edge of the bed. Guiding his hips towards her with her hands splayed on either one she gives him a playful smile and starts creeping her hands closer and closer to his dick.

“Schatz, you don’t have to-” he starts to say before her mouth is on him.

Smiling at the pet name she couldn't understand while she licked up and down his shaft. His hands came to gently rest against her head, guiding her as she moved.

Now finally taking more and more of him into her mouth, she starts bobbing her head. The man above her murmuring and whimpering, praising her to no end.

“Ok, ok, I want more” he says finally breaking his symphony of moans. Intonation of his voice changing slightly, more demanding, not mean, just demanding.

Releasing him with a dripping pop she giggles and says, “Don’t be shy, take what you want.”

Good lord, this woman was going to be the death of him.

Scooting herself up the bed, he joins above her, caging her in under his larger form.

“I love how big you are, it makes me feel so safe” she whispers, pulling his mouth to hers by the nape of his neck.

Then, unexpectedly she flips herself over pushing her hips up slightly so her butt was somewhat in the air. Gripping onto his right forearm she asks him, “Will you fuck me from behind König? Please?” staring up at him with those beautiful y/e/c eyes, that he was not afraid to admit already made his mind and body weak with devotion.

Feeling more confident in himself he says, “Of course angel” ducking his head down to leave open mouthed kisses and bites along her neck, leaving her skin aflame.

Gently, he prods at her entrance with two of his fingers, wetting them with his mouth first. She is already slick, lips puffy, she is clearly very aroused. Which just fuels his confidence more. Carefully he starts to scissor her open with his fingers while kissing up and down her shoulders and back, earning mewls and hums from her which all go directly to his cock. At this point his tip is bright pink and leaking, desperate to be inside of her.

But he waits patiently, until she is pressing back against his hand, whining pleas for more, more of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he removes his hand and lines his cock up with her entrance. Slowly pushing himself in, he stops after about halfway not wanting to stretch her too quickly.

She is thankful as her grip on his forearm gets tighter, bracing herself for the intrusion. After taking a few deep breaths she gives him a small nod and he continues to press into her. Once he bottoms out they both give deep sighs and a shudder through their bodies.

The front of his thighs pressed against the back of hers he starts to make slow, shallow thrusts. Gliding against the spongy spots inside of her, stretching her in the best ways.

“Oh my god, fuck König please!” she says.

“Already so needy, hmmm?” he responds grinning into her skin, now pressing his chest against her back, his arms splayed out on either side of her.

“Just shut up and fuck me, please” she responds boldly. This is all it takes. All it takes for him to completely crumble and give her exactly what she wants, everything that she wants.

Thrusting in and out of her, breathing in her smell, half of his body pressed against hers he got lost in this blissful feeling, her perfect pussy gripping onto him so tightly, especially when he grazed all of the special spots inside of her.

‘Jesus christ he feels so good’ y/n thought to herself. She still couldn’t believe this is where she was, especially now that she knew König better. She couldn’t tell if she just didn’t care about his newly divulged secrets or if they attracted her to him more. What she knew for sure was that the band in her center was getting very close to snapping. So she snaked a hand down between her legs. Which was quickly followed by one of König’s no doubt also nearing his high. When their hands touch and fingers intertwine neither of them pull away and both start to rub circles against her clit. All of this makes her whine even louder into the bed below her, making him groan into her, reaching ecstasy.

“Oh fuck König, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum ok? I want you to cum in me, deep in me, please!” This is all it took for König to completely lose any sense of control he had left. Drilling into her he felt his high tipping over the edge, only made more intense by her orgasm ripping through her, her pussy clenching even more around his fat cock.

A cacophony of moans filled the room as König continued his thrusts, guiding them both through their orgasms. Slowing his movements, while still inside her, y/n twists herself around and brings his face to hers in a long sloppy kiss.

Pulling away to breath, they rest their foreheads against each other, both catching their breath.

Now, completely pulling out of her, König gently pulls her body towards him and stands her up, leading her to his bathroom. They have a long, hot shower together, gliding greedy hands over each other. Once done he joins her on the bed, already nestled in one of his large shirts, he pulls her against him. He never wants to forget this, forget how this feels, he thinks. He never realized how nice it was to sleep at night with someone warm laying beside you until he had her. And she didn’t realize how nice it was to have a nearly seven foot personal heater in bed next to her. Steadily they each drift off to sleep.

What feels like hours later, y/n wakes up to a full bladder. Sneakily she moves out from under König, she assures herself since her absence won’t be long, that he won’t wake up before she returns. She trots over to the bathroom, then once she’s done, figures she might as well refresh her glass of water on the nightstand. Tip toeing around the bed, she stops and gazes at König’s sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, his seemingly permanent furrowed brow and worry lines finally relaxed as he was in deep sleep.

Quietly she makes her way downstairs to get water from the kitchen sink, almost humming to herself, just absolutely content with everything right now. She doesn’t hear the first noise. Something in the distance, outside of the cabin, a sort of…howling. There’s only about a sliver of the moon out tonight but given all the snow, the light reflects on everything, making it bright enough outside to see a few feet from the windows of the cabin.

Then the howls ring again, making her jump slightly, turning the sink off, she assures herself that it is nothing to worry about. But then, as she makes her way back to the stairs, the howls continue, she tells herself she’s crazy but it sounds like they are getting closer and closer to the cabin. Against her better judgment she makes her way to one of the windows by the front door and cautiously peers out of it. Scanning her eyes around the very snowy outside she starts to reassure herself that it truly was nothing. Until she sees a pair of glowing, yellow eyes. They seem to be about 30 feet away from the window. Something about them makes her freeze. She feels like prey. She looks down at the doorknob, assuring that it is locked. Then, as she returns her gaze out the window the eyes are now less than 10 feet from the window, and whatever thing it is lets out a louder howl, making y/n’s blood ice cold.

“König!” she screams into the dark cabin, yellow eyes fixed on her, close enough now that steam from the thing’s hot breath is sticking to the window pane.

taglist:

@honeybeeznutz

@bebitadelsol

#werwolves

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