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jaqofalltrades · 1 month

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Barracks Bunny

COLLAB WITH @ace-of-spadez GO FOLLOW!!!

POV: You're a barracks bunny and didn't think the Colonel knew.

König x bb!reader

CW: (Part 1) Age difference (König early 40's, reader mid 20's), sparring ig. (Part 2) Size difference, size kink, authority kink, breath play, overstimulation, choking, over-the-desk, public but also not public, multiple rounds, hair pulling, fingering, cunnilingus, headboard banging, creampie, biting, marking, etc.

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You were going on the third week in your new base. Kortac. It was mid afternoon and you were making your rounds. Your evenly paced steps created tiny clicks on the hard floor, ringing out in the relative silence. A shout could be heard every once in a while from every other training room, usually someone being berated and called a maggot. This place was no boot camp, but they strictly kept up with training to whip everyone into shape. You yourself could’ve used the extra cardio, but instead you’re on your way to put bullets in walls.

You turned a sharp corner and took only a few steps, your eyes rested on the shadow of a lonely recruit sitting solemnly by himself, with only the open broom closet across the hall to illuminate his face.. You made an abrupt stop and tilted your head slightly. Your voice cut sharply into the stale air, “Soldier, is there a reason you aren't at your station right now?”

The man’s head abruptly shoots up in your direction, eyeing you incredulously as he rises to his feet quickly straightening his posture. “What’s it to ya?” The corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. The soldier takes a few steps closer coming into the light of the main room, showing a rather rugged man but also well-kept.

“Sarg was taking roll and sent me to seek out the stragglers.” You gave him a knowing look, already aware of the soldiers that were missing in training. You stood up straight and took a step back as the lone soldier finally entered the hall and stood over you with a strange glint in his eyes. You knew that look all too well, he wanted something. Although that ‘something’ was not clear, you had an inkling of what it was. As soon as that feeling appeared, it disappeared just as quick.

“How can you be certain that my name is on that list? I could outrank you for all your knowledge.” He grinned slyly as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Your name soldier.” You stood your ground as you looked at him, unmoving. As your conversation goes on, you’re both unaware of the new looming presence a few feet down the hall behind a cracked door.

He gave you a quick glance up and down, already aware of your position as a barracks bunny. One of his fellow companions had leaked that little detail the other night at meal time. “The name’s Marshall Matthers. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voiced dripped sensually. “Although I may know you more than you think.” Matthers unfolded his gear clad arms and shrugged with a smile.

You shifted your weight onto one foot and crossed your arms, lifting a brow in question. You should be telling him to get back to training, as informed to do. “And what, Private Matthers, do you mean by that?” Taking a firm step forwards looking at him quizzically. A small squeak of a door could be heard by someone that was paying attention.

“It could mean whatever you want honey.” Matthers responded. You could tell what he was hinting at, his tone being more obvious than storm clouds in the sky.

A hint of a smirk crossed your lips as he spoke. You cocked an eyebrow up at him and you gathered your composure to stop yourself from telling him off. You go to speak when you notice the man’s face in front of you drain of any and all color. His eyes go wide and he immediately looks back to you, apologizes and practically sprints down the hall to his designated training room, suddenly more interested in being berated than teasing you more. Your brows furl in confusion, mouth frozen in position as the words died on your tongue.

A looming presence behind you sends chills up your spine and anxiety coursing through your veins. You take a step forward and slowly turn around, seeing a building of a man staring you down. Is this the nearly seven foot giant that has been whispered about around the base? Theres a lump in your throat as you try to swallow, mouth unbearably dry. You straighten your posture to the best of your abilities, putting a stern look on your face attempting to hide your uncertainty and uneven breath.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You notice the man looking you up and down, almost sizing you up rather than checking you out. Clearing your throat with a quick, “ahem,” the mountains eyes snap to your face. “And your name soldier?” You try to hide the small waver in your voice, if it had been anyone else you’d think it would go unnoticed, but the man noticed immediately. His eyes crinkle lightly, as if he were smirking under the veil of a t-shirt with two eye holes cut into it.

“Colonel König, ma’am. And you?” he spoke lowly, thick austrian accent catching you off guard. His voice was smooth, slightly higher pitched than what you’d expect from a man of his build. Large broad shoulders, tall and wide stance, muscular arms crossed against his chest, clad in a bulletproof vest and enough gear to fill a tank. You found yourself spaced out, realizing you must have just been staring at him for a good five seconds before being quick to respond.

“My apologies Colonel, I was not made aware of who you are.” Standing about four feet apart, you and König stood, you clearly trying to remain professional while practically shrinking into yourself and him clearly enjoying having so much of an effect on you. “I was simply sent to collect any missing men for training. And now that I have, I will be on my way.” You nod and start to walk away when you hear him call from behind you.

“You don’t happen to be headed to training room C-16, do you?” The question stopped you in your tracks, how could he have known? I mean yes, he is the Colonel and should be aware of all the soldiers ranks and schedules. But the question remained, why would he be asking if he knew?

“That is correct Colonel. Is something the matter?” you ask over your soldier, hoping to avoid the uproar of anxiety you get from making eye contact with him.

“Oh not at all, I am to be assisting with training in your group today. Shall we walk there together?” He took two long strides towards you, bumping his elbow into your shoulder as he passed. Clearly not a request, but a statement. You attempt to keep up with his fast pace, walking in silence with the tower of a man next to you.

As the both of you neared the open training door, you slowed your pace slightly, as to enter behind him. His head peers back over his shoulder for a second before looking straight on. As you step into the full room, everyone's eyes seem to immediately land on the Colonel and then you, trailing in behind him. A few smirks and chuckles could be seen all around. You knew what they were thinking, seeing as your track record is quite widely known amongst the other men.

You walked to the side of the training room, feeling a few eyes still watching intently. König seemed to have realized the thoughts of the soldiers. He stopped in the center of the room, folding his hands behind his back, observing everyone. He knew of your midnight adventures, hearing about it from other soldiers personal conversations that he eavesdropped on. He decided to shut any ideas down before they could fully formulate. “Alright soldiers! Settle down and pay attention. No need to act like a bunch of idioten the moment one of your female comrades enters the room.”

All of their eyes snapped up and their postures straightened, everyone immediately resuming their work. You however were left standing in thought. Why would he feel the need to stand up for you like that? You two knew next to nothing about the other, much less have enough of a relationship to defend you like he just did. Was it purely just out of respect? Or did he have a underlying reason behind it, a different intent maybe? You’re snapped out of overthinking by a large hand waving in front of your face.

“Welcome back to reality soldier, afraid we lost you for a second there. Everything alright?” König asked calmly. You didn’t know how to respond so you simply just nodded and walked over to a bench to place your stuff down. Although you weren’t yet aware of who your training buddy would be quite yet, you still sat down and quietly began preparing yourself for sparring. Just as you were about get up to ask who you would be partnering with, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Looks as if you’ll be working with me today. I was told you are to work on sparring with enemies much larger than you in preparation for an upcoming mission.” Your heart jumps to your throat as you hear König continue. “I will be teaching you some strategies along with what not to do when up against an enemy twice the size of you, if the opportunity were to ever arise.” Frozen in place you begin to panic, how in the hell are you supposed to take down a man like him? He could easily snap you in half in seconds. You could already tell that today was going to be rough.

There was no doubt in your mind that your were strong, hell you would even be proud to announce that you were stronger and more agile than most of the men in the room currently. But König? That was where your confidence slightly faltered. Putting aside your worry, you confidently strided over to the mat, getting into sparring position with a determined look on your face. Across you stood the giant, now barren of his gear and equipment, t-shirt no longer over his face, instead wearing his baklava which he only wore during sparring.

He’s stood straight, hands clasped in front of him and facing the group of fellow soldiers. “May I have everyone’s attention!” He spoke up, instantaneously getting the eyes of all in the room in which he continued. “I will be providing a scenario in which it may be difficult to fight back, I will be showing different moves and maneuvers that you may need to use to your advantage.” All eyes were on you and König, your breathing uneven. Looking back to your sparring partner, you see him getting into position. Before you even have time to react, he has gotten beside you, splaying his arm across the entirety of your chest holding onto your opposite shoulder pushing back; sweeping his foot into the backs of your knees, you fold immediately.

You try to recover quickly, rolling over onto your stomach, attempting to push yourself up off the ground when he places his foot in the center of your back holding you down. He lectures the others on what you could have done in order to avoid this but it all goes in one ear and out the other as the air gets pushed out of your lungs. Finally, you get let back up as you gasp for oxygen, swiftly darting behind König to jump onto his back, locking your legs around his waist and putting him in a chokehold. Everyone looks shocked for an entirety of 2 seconds before you get flung over his shoulder, your back aching as you smash into the ground.

Your eyes opened as you groaned. The sight you are met with is the Colonel’s body looming over yours, looking down, his eyes looked like they were holding a satisfied grin behind them. He reaches his arm out, and you grip onto it, being yanked up quickly onto your feet with your head spinning slightly.

König faced the crowd of soldiers again, his voice cutting into them, “Okay. Now you have seen what not to do when facing a larger opponent. I’ll demonstrate again, but this time I will show what to do, ja?” His eyes looked around, seeing nodding heads as confirmation they were listening. He turned to you, holding his hands up, “Be in a standard defensive position, hands up, covering your stomach and head. The weakest spots.” He started to circle around you, so you moved opposite of him. He was speaking directly to you now, “Use your size to your advantage. You are smaller, so you can move quicker, and be harder to grab. Stay low to the ground, try to throw your opponent off balance.. Think on your feet. And never, ever second guess yourself.”

The second he completed his speech he darted towards you, and you drop like a bag of rocks in order to trip him. He stumbles but stays standing by which you grab his wrist and pull him over you, using the momentum of his rocking. He braces himself and somersaults forward to try and recover but as he goes to sit up, you lock onto him from behind. Your legs around his hips with your ankles crossed, locking his legs together as you wrap your arm around his neck and fall back. König tries to reach back and unlock the chokehold you have him in, when he realizes he can’t he starts to get even more harsh. Thrashing and attempting to retrieve airflow that he doesn’t think to pull your ankles apart, and finally he taps.

You release your hold on him with a triumphant smirk, hearing him gasp for air inflating your confidence ten-fold. Obviously you offered him a hand and asked if he was okay, that’s more important than beating the nearly seven foot giant, that not a single person would ever think to go into a one on one combat with willingly.

He stood with a lighthearted chuckle. He looked down and nodded his head in approval while replying, “Yes, I’m fine. That was good Corporal (L/n), I am more than mildly impressed with your efforts. And thank you for helping with my demonstration.” You stand straight with your head held high, eyes scanning the room, seeing the faces of the soldiers filled with a mix of nervous confusion and impressed anger. To think the only person to have the balls to attempt to take down the brick wall of an intimidating giant would be the one and only 5’6, 140 lb woman in the entire group.

“Alright soldiers, back to work. I want to see each and every one of you working hard. You have 2 hours.” König stated to everyone as he turns to refocus his attention on you. “Corporal (L/n), if you would please come with me, I would like to discuss the mission plans with you in my office.” You felt confused as to why he was asking about this when the mission isn’t for another couple months. However, swallowing down the confusion and putting on a blank face, you give him a curt nod and follow him out of the training room.

“I don’t mean to doubt your knowledge, Colonel, but if I’m not mistaken the mission isn’t until 4 months from now. How is it possible to have all of the information and suspects needed to start formulating plans on something we aren’t certain the future of?” The rhythmic pace of footsteps echoing in the empty barracks hallway. You and König walk side by side and the slow rising and falling of his chest helps to soothe the tension in the air.

To be continued...

I'm not totally sure when the second part will be out but take this for now...

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #konig call of duty #call of duty #smut #cod smut

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eff4freddie · 1 month

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Touch | Part Six

Words: 5.8k

Just as you approach something resembling contentment, this broken world will exact its toll.

Warnings: smutty smut, trauma, grief, Joel hasn't come to terms with what happened in Salt Lake, Joel is bad at feelings, but pretty good with his hands. Minors DNI.

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

You were busy again, the new table earning its keep almost immediately, and the ease that you moved around your treatment room, the way that you could bend without reaching over, push with your weight rather than your wrists, meant that you could concentrate more, heal more effectively. You hadn’t realised how much the clumsiness of the old dining table had been holding you back. Every day that you used it, you wanted to find a new way to thank Joel. Maybe even sometimes, with all of your clothes on.

Except that the idea also terrified you, in a way that you were struggling to really understand. The idea of him, of being naked with him, not that you really fully had been, of kissing him even, no that you had, was enough to send an absolute riot of butterflies careening through your guts and down into your legs, into your knees. The idea of him scared you, his reputation proceeded him, and you kept thinking of how wary Maria was, how protective Ellie seemed to be, how sweetly oblivious Tommy was most of the time which you were beginning to suspect was actually a choice. You wanted to pull them all into a room and forensically map out who the fuck Joel Miller actually was. You were aware you were thinking like a crazy person. You didn’t care.

Because then when he was with you, when you fell into his orbit, looked into his eyes, there was something heavier and realer and more tangible than your stupid, flighty, squawking fears. It worried you, that he made you into a different person when he was around you. You weren’t sure what that person was capable of getting up to, left to her own devices, but you had an inkling.

You knew that you were pushing him away, pushing it all away, because it scared you, but also it felt like the only sane thing to do, had kept you alive for years and years, had meant that when you lost people it hurt less, maybe. Being busy again, and fairly invested in maintaining your denial for as long as you could manage it, you got back to your usual routine of seeing the broken and weary people of Jackson early, before the work hours, and then steadily throughout the day. It afforded you the illusion of being sociable, of contributing to the community, without having to actually be in it. Without Ray and Marla, with Maria and Tommy wrapped up in the baby, with Joel being…Joel, you had collected a long list of clients and a dwindling list of friends. It could have made you sad if you thought about it, so you didn’t, and you were too busy anyway, and how could you be lonely with all these people in your house?

Besides which, in the quiet moments you could feel the tension in people, the uneasiness woven tight into the musculature of most of the residents you now saw. Not everyone knew Marla or Jacob or the others personally, not everyone even necessarily liked them, especially not fucking Jacob, but everyone had an investment in their safe and hopefully bountiful return.

To escape it, you went for long walks along the foreshore of Jackon’s lake at the bottom of the township, until the dying light forced you back. You were there, hands in the freezing water feeling out for flat stones you could warm in hot water and press into particularly assertive muscle knots, when you heard the yelling. You were up and sprinting, the twisty and icy path underneath you occasionally threatening to boot you into the snow, and if you’d had time to think about it you have marvelled at the difference in your reaction from Joel and Ellie’s homecoming to this one. The elation you felt at their return, the relief of it, not just for you and Marla and Ray, but for Jackon. For what it meant for this community. For your community.

Trying not to knock yourself out on the way to the gate meant that you didn’t initially notice the quiet. There was a smattering of people still out despite the cold, the encroaching darkness, but they weren’t rushing forward, weren’t really helping the returned residents, were in fact milling around, some just standing in quiet observance, and it occurred to you for a second that they were like onlookers at a funeral. You pushed forward into the crowd, trying to see past unmoving shoulders, past still bodies, moving towards the sounds of horses, of panting breaths you weren’t sure belonged to whom.

And then you arrived at the front, and you had a clear view. And you realised the panting breaths were your own.

There were only two horses, and only three riders. Marla at the reigns of one, Jacob slung over the back of her saddle, slumping over at an odd angle, his head rolled back in a way that you thought would really strain his cervical spine, until you realised he was tied to the horse, had been roped around Marla’s midsection, that he was nearly as pale as the snow around you, that he was very dead. The other rider stared, unblinking, into the distance and was eventually helped down and led to the infirmary, not ever having said a word.

Marla had seen you, had watched you fight your way to the front of the crowd, had searched you out. She was shivering, a splatter of blood across her chest and under her neck, and you couldn’t tell if it was hers or if it was Jacob’s or someone else’s entirely, and in that moment staring into her eyes you knew that it didn’t matter, that it would never matter, that whatever damage it was it had already been calculated, tallied, on a ledger somewhere none of you would ever be able to balance.

You motioned to a few of the men around you, gesturing to the ropes around Marla’s middle. ‘Cut him loose,’ you said, in a voice you didn’t recognise, and reached your arms up to hold Marla’s hand. You held it, limp and contrite in yours, while Jacob’s body was freed from hers. When he was lifted away she slumped forward, her back having held his weight for god knows how long, and you caught her, pulled her down from the horse on wobbling legs, let her crumple underneath you and set her down onto the pavement. Someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders and you held her in it, gripped her hard and tight and let her shake in your arms. You looked up into the eyes of Ray, who looked like he might throw up or pass out or both, and you pulled him down with you, wrapped him around her while he cried into her hairline, and you watched as the horses were led away.

‘Did you bring anything?’ someone asked from the crowd, quiet but hopeful, and you wanted to reach up and slap them for every moronic word they had dared speak into existence, had thought to utter in this sacred space of abject loss.

Marla never answered, and you squeezed her. She twisted in your arms to look up at you, an angry purple and yellow bruise forming having formed under her eye. You turned to Ray. ‘Help me get her to mine,’ you said.

You had the fire going, and you pushed your old armchair right up to it, folding Marla into it under a sea of blankets. Ray went to get something to bring her from the mess hall, something warming but easy to chew, and you perched beside her, slid down until her knees were in your lap and she was resting her head against the wing of the chair, and you stared, together, into the fire.

‘We barely made it back,’ she whispered, her voice dry, her lips chapped and windburned. You stayed still, not wanting to shake her, not wanting to do anything that might stop her from talking. ‘Rode through, all night. I wanted to bring him back, bring them all but I could only get him.’

‘Was it raiders?’ you asked, and she shook her head.

‘Both,’ she said, and you didn’t understand. ‘Raiders that had…kept a few clickers, had them locked up, had them uhhh…weaponised.’

You shuddered. ‘Like pets?’ you asked.

‘Like torture devices,’ she simply replied. You contemplated this for a second, couldn’t imagine it, the terror of being faced with that choice: raider or runner.

‘We got within a few hours of where we thought the pharmacy was,’ she went on, her voice catching. She continued to shake, her hands tremoring underneath the blanket, and you tried to tuck her in tighter, tried to warm her up. ‘We’d gone through a valley, ended up on the other side of a glade, it would have been so beautiful in the before times. We found a farmhouse, looked abandoned. Wasn’t.’

She was jiggling her foot and you put your hand out to hold it, feeling that her socks were wet. ‘By the time we realised they were already on us, were ready, had seen us coming.’

She looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. ‘They tried to lock us in the cage with them,’ she swallowed. ‘Jacob was really brave, fought them hard, stopped them from putting us in.’

If cold had gotten into her boots she must have been freezing, was risking losing a toe. You lifted the blankets to pull at her sock, putting your hand on her bare skin to warm it.

‘But one of them, two of them maybe, they got out,’ she continued. You held the ball of her foot in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the top of her foot in what you hoped were comforting little circles.

‘I just wanted to get him back here,’ she said, just as you felt it, a raised, rough ridge on her ankle, tendrils of heat snaking up her shin. You threw the blankets back, saw the bite there, the way the ropes of twisting fungus had already started their march up to her heart. You froze, your terrified eyes snapping to her wet, sorry, scared ones.

‘Don’t let Ray do it,’ she said.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been there before, you knew where it was. You wrapped on the door so hard you would later discover the skin on your knuckles had split. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears, your vision narrowed down to a pinprick, the look on Marla’s face so drawn, so scared, so resolute, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids. You kept wrapping, hopping from side to side, your tears mingling with the frigid air. You called for him on his front porch, your voice high and choking on the fear, on the grief in it.

He'd wrenched the door open, having pulled his boots on but not yet done up the laces, the furrow in his brow deep, his eyes wild when he clocked you, when he checked your six.

‘Jesus, are you? What is it?’ he spluttered, and you couldn’t let him finish, had to get the words out in case they poisoned you.

‘She’s bit, Joel,’ you spat out, watching his face fall.

‘Who, Ellie?’ he asked, panic rising in his voice, and you choked out a sob, shaking your head fiercely. He grabbed you by both shoulders, bending down to look you in the eye. You shook underneath him, wanted to launch yourself into his chest and bury yourself in it.

‘Marla,’ you said, shivering so hard your jaw was barely cooperating. ‘She came back bit.’

‘Where is she?’ he asked, and you told him. You’d locked her in your treatment room. She hadn’t turned yet, and you figured there was still an hour or two, maybe. The tremors you’d thought were the cold, shock.

‘Please, Joel,’ you said, and he was already heading back into the house to grab his rifle. Tears were streaming down your face now, your knees threatening to give. ‘Please be kind about it.’

He pulled you in, off his porch and into his living room. Set you down on the rug beside the fire.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You stay here, you stay warm. You wait for me. You don’t come lookin’, you hear me?’

You nodded, and he shook his head at you. ‘Repeat it,’ he said.

‘I won’t come looking,’ you said, quiet and desperate like a child. He nodded, then, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You took a long breath in, felt the burn of it down your chest and into your lungs. Felt the electricity crackle between the two of you, arcing from his chest to yours through the air, let it fuel you for the next part.

The three of you had just left Chicago, two or so days into your trek towards Wyoming, to maybe find something better, to maybe find more of the same. Ray and Marla were ahead of you by about four paces, you deciding to hang back to let them chat. You could hear their murmurs, Ray’s giggle high and giddy when Marla made him laugh. You could imagine the two of them strolling down a sidewalk together, one hand holding their coffees with the other hand holding each other’s. You could see the golden light of the late afternoon in the trees, backlighting them as they chatted about their work, about their friends, about what movie they wanted to see on the weekend. You could imagine them going out for dinner of an evening, Marla resting her head on Ray’s shoulder as the sun set over the water, the two of them intertwined and suburban and blissfully, delightfully bored.

You were so lost in this reverie that you hadn’t realised they were talking to you until you nearly rammed into them, and you stopped to see them smiling, warmly at you.

‘You were a million miles away,’ Marla observed, and she reached out to pinch your arm.

‘Years,’ you said. ‘I was a million years away.’

You sat with your legs folded underneath you on Joel’s floor, the fire warming your skin enough to remind you that you were alive. Your stomach ached, your chest burned, you rocked backwards and forwards and tucked your chin into your chest and sobbed, alternating between wiping your tears with the top of your shirt and just letting them fall onto the carpet.

You saw yourself as if you were floating outside your body, observed yourself get up on all fours and keen into the carpet, unleashing a wail unlike anything you’d ever heard. You thought, for a second, that this woman on the floor was unrecognisable, was barely human, scratching at the rug and trying to breathe through the sobs.

The night grew darker. The fire died down. You collapsed in on yourself, felt the last guide rope tethering you to the ground fail, and you slipped under, crouched on the floor with your forehead resting on your arms, your knees numb from the weight of pressing into the rug, your mind empty, time having stopped, the world having fallen off its axis. A small part of you observed in wonder at how much grief you could carry. A larger part, a wiser part, a part that had taken a back seat to let the banshee take the wheel for a while, knew that this was so much more than Marla. Knew that it was all of them, a ledger steeped in red.

In the darkness you became vaguely aware of footsteps, the sound of the fire being stoked, logs being added. Felt a blanket thrown over your shoulders, then warm hands on the small of your back guiding you, pulling you up and over to sit astride a warm body, a strong pair of legs. You wrapped your arms around him, clung to him like a koala to a Eucalypt, snuffled your tear-streaked face into his neck, into his shirt. He held you to him, a hand buried in your hair and cradling your skull in his palm, the other wrapped around your back, easing the fabric away and tucking under, to touch you, skin to skin. You heard whispers of words, mixed with your own sobs, your own gasps. He held you through all of it, on aching bones on the hard floor, until the crashing waves settled, until you finally washed ashore.

‘You don’t have a couch,’ you said, after a while, pulling your head up to observe the oddly sparse furniture arrangement. He snickered, leaning you back to brush the hair out of your eyes, away from your wet face.

You realised, after a moment, heat on your cheeks. ‘Oh,’ you said, simply. He gazed at you, watched you put two and two together, stood unshaken in all that he had sacrificed for you.

‘But where do you sit?’ you asked, and he nodded towards the old rocking chair he’d pulled in from the porch outside. You nodded your head, because it was perfect really, and because it made sense, and because you needed it to.

‘Is she gone?’ you asked, shifting on his lap to watch his face. He blinked slowly, nodded. You felt your face crumple, felt him tighten his hold on you. ‘Was it bad?’ you choked out, and he shook his head.

‘She was so brave,’ he said, gravelly voice just above a whisper. He reached out and cupped your face, wiped a tear away, held your gaze to him. ‘She was ready. She said when it was time.’

‘She didn’t…turn?’ you asked, clinging to his forearms now, letting him anchor you. He shook his head once more.

‘No, baby,’ he said, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in the sound of it, let it blanket you in warmth and quiet, burrow down into it and hibernate for the winter.

‘Thank you,’ you said, simply. He hummed in response, collecting a tear on his thumb and raising it to his lips, licking it clean. You gasped at the sight of it, his eyes never leaving yours, squirming on his lap, the sudden heat in your cunt catching you off guard. ‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Are your legs numb?’ and he laughed then, because you had managed to surprise him, and after he caught his breath he sheepishly nodded. ‘Take me to bed, then,’ you said, climbing off him and extending a hand. You hauled him up, his knees creaking. For a moment the both of you stood, staring at each other in the light of the fire. You felt breathless with need for him, your head swimming, the sadness shifting just enough to let the heat in, the want. ‘Up the stairs,’ he told you. You slipped your hand into his paw.

Joel’s bedroom was sparse, the walnut oak bed pressed up against the wall, a stack of books on the floor beneath a bare lamp, a guitar in the corner. His scent was all over the sheets, all over the clothes strewn around the floor. You pressed yourself against him in the hope that you would absorb some of it into your cotton.

The moment you crossed the threshold his hands were on you, pulling your clothes from you like they had personally insulted him, shucking your jeans off your hips and pulling your panties down with them until you were bare, standing before him at the foot of his bed. He took a step back and you watched his face as his gaze devoured you, the heat of it so scorching that you could swear you could feel his fingers on you even standing three feet away. You trembled from the cold air and the intensity of it, and he saw in your face, read in you that you wanted to turn away from it, from the intimacy of it.

‘Don’t,’ he all but whispered, coming towards you and running his hands up on the outside of your arms. ‘Don’t be shy, not now,’ he said. He slipped a hand behind your back and his knees between yours, pushing you gently onto the bed behind you, laid his body over you and nipped at the skin behind your ear. You pulled at his flannel, trying to claw it from him without even unbuttoning it, groaning in frustration when the garment held fast. He snickered, his little lopsided grin, as he pulled it away.

You lifted yourself up on one arm, bringing the other to cradle him to you, licks and nibbles to his collar bone, to the patches of hair on his chin. His brought his hands to your breasts, pebbled the nipple with his fingers while he pushed and rolled them, squeezed them together just to watch them bounce. He was hard and heavy between your legs, still covered in his jeans, and you lifted shaking fingers to his belt buckle. He froze, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, as he watched you. You faltered, worried for a second you had read it all wrong, that he was going to push you from him, that he had seen something in you, that you had revealed something wrong and gnarled.

‘Do you…should I?’ you stuttered, and he came to his senses again, his brow creasing when he saw you were floundering.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he said, and you thought it would be kinder if he just set you on fire at that point, ‘darlin’ I was just awed for a second, that somethin’ as gorgeous as you would want a man like me. An old man like me.’

You felt the relief wash over you, your pulse quickening now but not from fear. ‘Seasoned,’ you grinned, bringing him back down to you, pulling him on top of you as his hands helped yours to free him, push his jeans over his hips. ‘Worn in,’ you went on, and he grinned at your little game. ‘Fine wine,’ you finished, and he snickered again.

‘Vinegar,’ he said, and you pushed his head down to your chest, fed him your breast, let him lave at your nipple while you gasped and clutched at his hair.

‘Experienced,’ you whimpered, and he huffed out a warm laugh into your breastbone. You wanted to unlock your ribs, swing them open like an ancient garden gate, and capture it there for safe keeping.

Free, now, the two of you naked and lying together on top of his blanket, the sheets rumpling underneath you as you rutted against each other. He reached a hand down to cup your sex, groaning when he felt how wet he had made you, how you were dripping for him. You gasped as he ran his fingers up and over your slit, gently teasing your lips apart, testing you, teasing you. You rolled your hips, trying to snare him, trying to slide him inside, but he worked against you, zigged when you zagged, and your frustrated little gasps delighted him.

‘Joel,’ you groaned, your voice tight across your chest, not enough air in your lungs to properly scold him. He ignored you, instead lifting his lips to his fingers and sampling a little taste. You watched him, eyes wide as his fell shut at the taste of you.

‘So sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before he opened his eyes as if he just remembered you were there. ‘Here, baby,’ he said, and he fed yourself to you, his fingers sliding over your tongue as you suckled at them, his hot breath on your face as he watched you, pupils dark in the half-light of his lamp, sweat forming on his brow.

When you had sucked them clean he lowered them again, slipped them inside you, bending down to rest his ear on your mouth when you began to pant, to whimper.

‘Show me,’ he said, pulling your hand to your cunt and watching as you began slow, lazy circles around your clit. He furrowed his brow, pushed off you and down to watch properly, lifted a leg to prop you open, planting your foot on the mattress beneath you to open you wide and obscene in front of him. You blushed, moved to cover your face with your hands, but he stopped and caught you, brought your fingers back to your core before he slipped inside again. You raised your head to look at him beneath you and you realised he was learning you, studying your movements to replicate them later, letting you teach him how to touch you so that you’d never have to do it alone again.

Your first orgasm hit you hard. Under his careful, studious gaze you felt yourself unravel, your legs shaking where he held you open, his hand grasping at your ankle to keep you from slamming shut. So lost in the feeling of it, of the blooming heat expanding out and into your belly, of the undulations of your cunt around his fingers, that you barely noticed him slip his fingers from you and slide to the ground beside the bed, pushing your legs into your chest and holding them there, pressing you in half all the better to ease his tongue into your cunt and lick up your spend, kitten licks at your sensitive clit before plunging his tongue into your hole, breathing hard through his nose and groaning, uttering filth in the base of his throat as he devoured you, wrung your second orgasm from you in a matter of minutes, rolling from side to side and head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair as his mouth rode you, as he stayed with you up to your peak and then over it, savouring and lapping at your come, rutting into the side of the bed as he let your thighs down to rest on his shoulders, your breath ragged and rippling with pleasure, hands clutching to the blanket to steady himself, to catch his breath.

He gazed at you in repose, ran his eyes over your sopping cunt up to your heaving belly, to the curve of the underside of your breast, the nipples straining into the cold air, and then up to your face, your head thrown back as you came down, as you squirmed from the overstimulation still coursing through you, as you let your hands drop beside you, sated and glorious in his worship of you.

You swallowed, your mouth, lips, throat dry. With shaky hands you reached for him, grabbed at the air above his shoulders, felt him shift and rise up to meet you, felt his weight blanketing you as you came back to yourself. With one hand in your hair and the other tracing your cheek, your jaw, you opened your eyes to stare into his, the desire carved hard and deep into his features.

‘Take it,’ you whispered, watching as his bottom lip quivered with need. ‘Please, Joel.’

He shifted his weight to one arm, reached down between you as you lifted your legs to bracket his hips, crossing your feet at the ankles behind his back. You felt him guide his cock to the weeping maw of your cunt.

‘Please,’ you whispered again, as you felt him slip inside you, the burn and the stretch and the force of him, so hard and pulsing as he parted you. He dropped his head, sighing, and you planted your lips to his brow, whimpered at the weight of his cock inside you, at the weight of the two of you finally, finally joined.

‘She’s tight, baby,’ he said, his brow creasing. He moved his hips, shoving further into you in one shot, and you gasped, grabbed at his shoulders, brought his eyes back to yours. He paused, gazing into your eyes, read the trepidation in them. ‘S’ok baby,’ he cooed, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheekbone. ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged, and you felt the warmth of his reassurance radiate down your thighs. ‘We can take our time,’ he said, languidly pulling back from you before gently, achingly, taking his place again. ‘Got all night for ya,’ he said, and you realised he had started to ramble, and that under his hot breath, on top of his blanket in his sparse bedroom lit only by his bedside lamp, in the cold Jackson night where the snow dampened all the noise, all the loss, all the sharp edges down, you never wanted him to stop whispering his filthy encouragement to you, never wanted him to stop easing his way into you, to the core of you, marking you where only he belonged.

‘Doin’ so good for me,’ he went on, his eyes closing on their own, lost in the grip of your cunt around him, in the heat of you. Finally he was fully seated, the warmth of his belly coming to rest upon yours. He settled there, reluctant to move, until you squirmed underneath him, caged whimpers escaping your throat. He opened his eyes, his lopsided grin appearing above you, as he planted a kiss on your hairline, gazed down at you as you stretched around him. He brought his hand down to cup your jaw again, held you there under his stare, as he withdrew his hips and eased back in again, pushing deeper into you that you gasped when he bottomed out, his eyes never leaving yours as your mouth dropped open in surprise at the feeling he was pulling from you, at the need and the ache of your cunt spread so open and wanting for him, at the way he was so effortlessly taking you apart, so calmly and so warmly unravelling you.

‘Too good,’ you complained, your brow saddling and jaw clenching, as you felt your cunt grip and release, grip and release. He cooed at you, revelling in your whimpers, gasped as you did, shared in your breath, made you submit to the divinity he was pushing you towards. This was how your third orgasm found you.

Locked in his gaze you could only lie beneath him, holding him to you by the shoulders and groaning as he pistoned in and out, watching his eyes slam shut as he was dragged under, submitted to the pull, his come washing the fear and the stress and the grief out of you, replacing it only with scorching heat, with a kind of pleasure indistinguishable from a greedy, pernicious want, with something that, in another life, you could have shaped into love.

You lay, entwined together, under his blanket. Your head on his chest, ear to his heartbeat, you felt your body rise and fall as he breathed underneath you. You hadn’t wanted the night to end, hadn’t wanted to close your eyes and wake to the aftermath. Together you lay and watched the sunrise. Occasionally Joel ran his fingers up and down your arm to let you know he was still there.

‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he hummed in response. You kept your head down, listening to his pulse quicken as you spoke. ‘Canna ask you something?’ you said, jaw resting on his ribs.

‘Uhhuh,’ he said, but his fingers were stopped now, frozen in place on your shoulder.

‘Before, when we were…’ you trailed off, because even though hours before he had been eyelevel with your swollen, puffy cunt, now suddenly talking about it felt too intimate. ‘Before,’ you started again, ‘you said you didn’t think I’d want a man like you.’

‘An old man,’ he corrected, and you smiled.

‘Seasoned,’ you corrected, and he groaned, theatrically. ‘But you said a man like you, then an old man like you,’ you reminded him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the temperature in the room drop. ‘What did you mean?’ you ploughed on, because you were in it now.

He thought for a moment, swallowing hard. You shifted in his arms, looked up at him, saw the flicker of panic there, before he reset his features in stone. You pulled away from him in surprise, not having seen that look directed at you in weeks, not since the first time he had appeared reticent and sore at your door. Your stomach dropped.

‘I gotta check on the horses,’ he said, rolling you out of the way and moving to get up. You sat up with him, grabbing at his arm.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to pull him back towards you, but so easily overpowered. He rolled his shoulder, shaking you off.

‘The two that came back, they need to be checked over. Waited for first light.’

‘Joel, I don’t understand what’s happening.’ He was standing, pacing around the room pulling his clothes back together, gathering yours and dropping them on the end of the bed. He stared at you, expectant, but you refused to move.

‘What kind of man did you mean, Joel?’ you pressed him, and he scoffed, pulling his jeans on and hastily doing up his shirt. He missed a few buttons, and in that moment you didn’t feel like helping him.

‘You know exactly what kind of man,’ he said.

You saw Maria’s tense shoulders when he came into her kitchen, bleeding. You saw her sitting in your kitchen as you held her feet to your chest, explaining how Tommy was different, how he had only wanted to impress his big brother.

Sort of dressed, he was now pacing, the morning light turning his skin a ghostly pale, and you thought for a moment he was haunting you. ‘You know exactly,’ he repeated. ‘Same reason you came running to me the second your friend needed killin’.’

You flinched like he’d slapped you, would have preferred if he had.

‘What kind of man, Joel?’ you asked, and he looked at you, then, tortured for a second before he wiped it away with his hand on his face.

‘A fuckin killer,’ he said, quiet and deathly in the chill of the morning.

You stared at him, heart racing. You were surprised and you also weren’t. You knew what this world demanded of people, the toll you had all paid for survival.

‘Infected?’ you asked, and he sighed, frustrated.

‘Don’t be so fuckin’ naïve,’ he said.

You remembered you were naked, but this was the first time he had really made you feel it, and you held the blanket to your chest, tight.

He wouldn’t look at you, staring instead out the window as Jackson woke.

‘I ain’t a good man,’ he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

‘I don’t believe that,’ you said, and he sneered at you then, picked up your clothes and threw them at you.

‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said, and then he was gone. You listened as his heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, the pause as he pulled his boots on, the slam of the door.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction

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puckarchives · 5 months

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i'll take care of you: l. hughes

blurb: in which luke takes care of you while on your period. / word count: 0.9k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader (WARNING: mentions of pain and blood, period cramps too, but they are minimal.)

Pain was always a sore (pun intended,) subject for you. You were resilient, and above all else, were adamant that you could take care of yourself. Even growing up, you would attack all the cuts, bruises, or even illnesses you had ever come across in stride, never letting it get you down for too long, and always putting up a tough front. In your mind, to show your pain, to show your sickness, was only a weakness.

Luke, you realized, wouldn’t stand for this attitude, and merely two hours after you had tumbled out of Luke’s grasp from where you two were laying in the couch, and sprinted to the upstairs bathroom— where, lo and behold, a red splotch stained the inside of your underwear. When you first felt the onslaught of painful cramps and the staining of your underwear and pants, you had almost fallen off of the couch, pulling Luke along with you when he actually fell off the couch in your rush to get to the bathroom.

Groaning to yourself at the fact that you were entirely unprepared for the onslaught of painful cramps you were sure to get in the next few hours, as well as the fact you were wholly unprepared because you were staying with Luke for the weekend, you are caught off guard when you heard the brisk knock at the bathroom door. Shit.

“Y/N, honey?” Luke said, a river of worry coating his voice. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You weren’t embarrassed that you were on your period— you knew it was wholly natural and you trusted Luke not to simply walk away while you were like this, so, taking a deep breath in and trying to squeeze away the pain you could feel at your abdomen, you called out to him as well.

“Sorry, bub, I just got my period. Do you mind bringing me the clean pair of underwear from my bag? It’s on the second drawer in your closet,” you called out to him.

You heard him yell back an affirmative through the door, and then the sound of retreating footsteps from the door. As you could feel the nausea rising up inside you, however, you discarded the dirtied clothes, and waited until Luke knocked once more on the door.

“Come in!” you yelled. This wasn’t the first time he had seen you in this state, and besides— he had seen more blood on the ice this season alone than what was coming out of your uterus.

Now, however, after Luke had entered the bathroom and, instead of simply leaving you to suffer on your own, had started you a warm bath and washed your hair, you came out to an empty apartment and Luke’s keys missing. Before you could feel the inklings of sadness or even frustration, however, you were overtaken with the sound of the doorknob moving around— opening to let in a rushed Luke who held up two CVS bags— filled to what you could see was Cookie Dough Ice Cream, and in the other, a pack of pads— the same ones you used, and the same brand as well. God, your boy did pay attention.

“Hi baby, had to run out ‘nd get some things for you. You feeling better?” he asked as he walked towards you, putting his free hand on the side of your head and kissing the opposite side.

You said yes, and as he led you to the couch, you felt Luke sidle up right next to you— silently unpacking the icecream and handing you one of the two spoons, as well as putting his other hand on your abdomen— splaying out the practically built-in heating pad he had, became as skinny as his hands were, they were still much larger than yours, and always warm.

Now, however, after the events of the day waned on, here you lay: in your shared bed that Luke had carried you into, a wet towel on your forehead, and the youngest Hughes boy fluttering around you— first fluffing your pillow, checking in on your cramps and giving you the Midol and Ibuprofen, and even hand feeding you the soup he had hurriedly called his mom an hour prior on how to make— a conversation you had heard as the sounds of pots banging, a few curse words, and Luke’s newly bandaged hand brought you a bowl.

Now, however, as you laid on the bed, you took in the opportunity to be pampered— to be taken care of by the boy you loved, who was taking care of you and treating you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him; he was up and fluttering around you, always making sure you were warm and comfortable, and truly just trying to take care of you.

“Hey pretty girl, you feeling better now?” he asked as he returned back to where you laid, his hands coming to rest on your forehead.

“Mhm” you only mumbled back, still caught up on the feeling of his warm hands on you, and the immense amount of love you felt for him. Not only had he rearranged the entirety of his plans to take care of you, but hadn’t complained once. He was, for a lack of better words, the best thing that have ever happened to you— something you could quickly judge based off of the way he had taken your needs into consideration, and how he kept sneaking glances at you even now— looks that were full of adoration and love, and that you hoped your own mirrored every time you looked back at him as well.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes

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iamqueenpotato · 1 year

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I Hate That I Love You - Part Five

Azriel x Reader

A/N- Here is part five! Took a bit longer than I planned, life decided to get crazy out of nowhere but what is new haha Anyways here ya go! I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you again for being amazing!

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Angst

Part one

The thread taunted you. The iridescent glow within you felt like needles underneath your skin. You knew it was meant to feel different, but in this moment there was not an inkling of joy across your entire being.

That mating bond had brought back all your fear and anxieties. That pain you fought so hard to beat, grew back within seconds. What if he knew and never told you? What if he deliberately ignored it because he could never have such feelings for you. The new bond only made your heart ache more. You had ran far from the camps, from the cabin, the trees began blurring together, the damn tears that hadn’t stop since you left the training ring. Your lungs burned as you tried to breathe, but each sob was followed by a heart shattering breath. You collapsed onto the ground, clutching your chest as you let out your cries. It was a moment that felt all too familiar.

You knew life was unfair, that you were meant to face obstacles and choices that could break you, but this past year wasn’t right. How could the cauldron damn you so? What did you ever do to deserve such agony?

You wanted to scream, to curse the life you were given. You were content with staying in this forest, letting the cold take you away, numbing everything that had caused you so much pain.

But the sound of wings above you sent you into a panic, causing you to scramble to your feet. No no no. You couldn’t see Azriel right now, he can’t be here. Even though you said you wouldn’t run, that you would face your problems, it all changed in an instant, because this-

This was a different form of fear.

You broke out into a sprint once more, hearing whoever it was land, but you didn’t look back, you were panicking, you knew this. All the sensible logic seemed to have left your head.

“Y/N!” The voice broke through the silence, your legs slowed as you turned to face the male.

“Surin.” You choked out, running back toward him. He approached you carefully but with open arms. And you hastily jumped into them. Your arms shook as you wrapped them around him, clutching the leathers he wore as if you were afraid to let go. Afraid to be left alone with your thoughts.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice echoed in your head as you held on to him, but softly he pulled you away from him, his green eyes searching your body for any injuries. You knew he would find nothing, part of you wished your pain was caused by a physical wound. Perhaps it would hurt less. “Azriel said you ran off, he thought you were with me. But when I said no he looked even more frantic, it got me worried.”

No words fell from your lips, not as your mind drifted to Azriel, you didn’t mean to worry him, to make anyone worry in that matter. The poor male in front of you got dragged into your issues, it was the last thing you wanted to do. You didn’t need someone else’s concerns, you had enough of your own.

“I am fine Surin, you didn’t need to come look for me.” You looked up at him with swollen eyes and the way your voice cracked with emotion contradicted your statement. And you knew Surin was smart enough to realize.

“You can cry in front of me, I won’t judge.” Surin offered you a kind smile before speaking again. “And if you aren’t ready to talk, that’s okay too.”

You let out a small laugh through your choked sobs, Surin pulled you against him, letting your tears fall onto his chest. “Is this about Azriel?” He asked while rubbing soothing circles along your back. Surin was the last person you expected to be here for you, but it made you all the more grateful for the male. You nodded against his chest. You wanted to confide your reality to him, to whisper those words that felt so foreign along your tongue. But the second you spoke them, it would all become too real.

Another set of wings sounded above the two of you, and in an instant Surin wrapped his wings around you as if he were protecting you from whoever was approaching.

“I assure you, Y/N does not need protection from me.” You knew that voice.

Cassian.

Surin pulled his wings back, and all you could see were the red siphons glistening against the fresh snow, Cassian had landed in front of you and Surin.

Cassian’s face was full of concern and he quickly moved toward you.

Pulling away from Surin, you dropped to your knees in front of Cassian. Tears streaming down your face once more. Perhaps it was the relief of seeing your dear friend, but your body gave out entirely. These last few days had drained you, not just physically but mentally.

“Y/N!” Cassian exclaimed as he slid across the ground, catching you in his arms. “Are you okay? What is going on? Kiddo talk to me.”

“Cassian.. please get me out of here. Please. I can’t be here Cas, please take me home.” You sounded so broken, the emotion catching in your throat.

Cassian’s gaze softened. He knew you weren’t going to say much else. “Okay let’s go.”

You were grateful for his understanding, but before Cassian could gather you in his arms, you turned back to face Surin, embracing him tightly. “Thank you. For looking for me.”

Surin placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Never hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “And I mean anything Y/N.”

You nodded, embracing him one last time before reaching for Cassian, who gathered you in his arms before launching into the sky. And you could’ve sworn you saw the reflections of blue against the ground below.

The trip back to Velaris was silent, and by the time the two of you arrived, your tears stained your cheeks. You knew Cassian had an idea of why you were upset, he had always known of your feelings for Azriel, and though he had been supportive of it, telling him that Azriel was your mate felt entirely different. You pushed your thoughts and emotions aside when the river house came into view. You still needed to report back to Rhys, your current problems would have to wait.

“Thank you Cassian.” Your words were barely a whisper as he placed you down at the entrance.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not letting you go just yet. You gave him a shy smile.

“No.” You gently removed yourself from him. “But I will be.” Lying was the last thing you wanted to do to Cassian, but the truth seemed so uncertain, you had no clue if things would ever be okay. Before he could respond you pushed through the entrance, leaving him to stare blankly at you through the closing doors.

On your way to Rhys’s office you passed by the portraits that hung along the walls, each one painted beautifully by Feyre. But only one seemed to taunt you, mocking each movement you made. You stared at Elain, her large brown eyes staring back as if she was watching you in this very moment. Judging you. She was undeniably beautiful, no wonder Azriel had taken a liking to her. You always wondered what she offered him that you couldn’t, what he preferred in her, maybe it was her innocence, her body that wasn’t marked in scars. He had enough darkness of his own, perhaps he didn’t want the burden of yours.

You tore your eyes away from the painting, unable to bear the painful thoughts much longer.

When you approached Rhys’s office, the door opened for you, and you found the highlord leaning over his desk, scribbling across multiple pieces of paper. Off to the side, Feyre had an easel set up in front of her. She smiled at you as you sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“How were the camps? Eventful?” Rhys asked, pushing the papers to the side.

“You could say that.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back into the chair, ready to leave and disappear into your room. “There was this Illyrian, he was older, dark eyes, brown hair, his demeanor was very unnerving. He was curious about the inner circle. And the second I took my eyes away from him, he was gone before I could ask anymore questions.”

Rhys sighed, running his hands through his hair. Feyre moved over to him, tenderly rubbing his shoulders. You only wished to someday have the understanding they shared. “His name is Madok. He is one of the older Illyrians there, and the only one that never moved up in rank.”

“Why?”

“Because I forbade it.” You stared at him, lips slightly parted, waiting for him to continue. “As you know, my brothers and I have put a lot in to change how the Illyrian camps operated, the horrid ways of the past were to be no longer. And as usual most refused, but eventually they slowly came around. But not Madok. I caught him on multiple occasions training men under the old regimen, reprimanding those who refused.” He paused, as if the memory was too much to relive. “I did my best to punish him, but at the time I was new to being highlord and he had more respect in that camp than I did. But after catching him, things fell silent, I assumed he backed down. I now see I was wrong.”

“So you think he is behind these threats?” You asked, moving to rest your elbows on your legs. “If that’s so, can’t we find him and bring him in?”

“We haven’t been able to locate him since. But hearing he showed up and approached you, is no mere coincidence. Where was Azriel?”

You clenched your jaw tightly at the mention of the shadowsinger. “Not around. I left without him that day.” You avoided looking directly at Rhys and Feyre, but you knew they sensed the stiffness in your tone. You felt the claws within your mind, that you had left unguarded. You pushed them out, needing to leave before any more questions could be asked. “Well if there isn’t anything else needed from me, I will retire to my room. Please inform me of any developments.” You stood from your seat motioning to move but Rhys’s voice caused you to halt your movements.

“Is there something else you would like to share?” Rhys asked, a knowing expression across his face. But his eyes were filled with sympathy.

Damn daemati. “You’re a nosy ass, you know that?” You sat back down in the chair, Feyre came over to hold your hand, she wiped away the silent tears that fell. You were so tired of crying. “Azriel is my mate.” Why did it feel so wrong to say that word out loud?

Feyre inhaled sharply, looking back towards her mate. “Does he know?” Rhys questioned.

“I don’t think so.”

“You have to tell him.” Feyre exclaimed and maybe she was right, perhaps you should’ve but it didn’t feel right, you were never the one he chose, if he was happy, then it was not your place to interfere.

“How? He’s getting married to Elain. To your sister. He never once showed interest in me. What if he rejects the bond. Am I supposed to just live with that pain? Watch as he has a happy life with another female?” Your words quickly turned into sobs, Feyre moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, causing the sobs to increase. You didn’t want to hide this from him, you knew it wasn’t right but that fear consumed you, made you feel pathetic.

“But still he has a right to know, he believes the cauldron cursed him with no mate, this changes everything.” Feyre added.

“Don’t you think I know that? I know he deserves the truth. But Feyre I am in pain. I cannot face him without feeling my heart breaking into a million pieces. He has had my heart for years and he knows this. But yet he has done nothing.” You inhaled deeply, the tremble following your exhale. “I want to be with him, but I am not his choice. Who am I to get in the way of his life. I can’t take that from him. Maybe the cauldron should have kept it that way, he seemed to be fine finding love on his own.” You stood up once more, freeing yourself from Feyre’s embrace. “I need to think about this. I can’t walk in there and declare he is mine. He is not an object to be claimed.”

“Tell her.” Feyre spoke up, staring directly at her mate.

“Tell me what.”

Rhys stood from behind his desk, moving to stand in front of you. “Elain has informed us that they plan to marry in the next week. They were going to announce it at the party tonight.”

It felt as though all the air had left your lungs, the numbing pain filling your chest cavity. “Great.” You forced out, turning away from your friends as you held back your emotions.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Feyre whispered back, but you didn’t want her apology.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” You sauntered to the door. Avoiding the sympathy you felt that you didn’t deserve.

“But-” Feyre started.

You looked over your shoulder at the two of them, giving them a pained smile. “I will see you guys at the party.”

It was a beautiful night for an outside party, they had dedicated a small part of the land next to the river house to host the gathering of tables and decorations. Lights floated above the area, it looked like a scene pulled from a fairytale. There were more people than you would have thought, but that was for the better, it would be easier to hide in the crowd the entire night. But you wouldn’t show weakness, you needed to remain strong, even if your soul felt as though it was falling apart.

“You look stunning.” Surin spoke up behind you, turning you admired the black dress clothes he had exchanged his training leathers for, he had slicked his hair back, exposing more of his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. You felt his eyes rake over your body, the emerald green dress you had settled on clinging to your skin, it left little to the imagination.

Surin placed his hands on your hips, placing a small kiss on your exposed shoulder. You quickly convinced Rhys, well more like guilt tripped him into letting Surin be your plus one. “As do you.” You whispered.

You led Surin into the party, his hand held firmly on to yours, it seemed the both of you were equally nervous. You walked around to greet each and everyone of your friends, and you had yet to run into Azriel, it was probably better that way but that didn’t stop your gaze from searching for him each second that passed. You ran into Helion, who gathered you in his arms, his hands always lingering for far too long. Normally you enjoyed his company and the long talks the two of you conversed in, but tonight you forced a smile to him, and the look he gave you was all knowing.

You excused yourself before he could say anything about it, and as you walked away Surin quickly pulled you aside. “If there is something bothering you, if anything we can leave, maybe I can show you my superb baking skills.” He whispered in your ear, enticing a laugh from you. And you understood he was only being nice, trying to be helpful when he didn’t truly know what bothered you, he was certainly a good male, Surin had a good heart, he deserved someone amazing. And perhaps you could love him, find happiness with him. Maybe he could be the male that helped you move on, forget all about the bond you shared with Azriel. But you had so much more healing ahead of you. You could never burden Surin with that. “Where did you go right now?” His voice tore you away from your thoughts.

“What are you talking about?” You blinked a few times at him.

“I can tell you get lost in your thoughts, the way your eyes drift downward. Are you sure you’re doing okay love?”

“Yes.” And the second you spoke, you saw him, standing near the front entrance, his arm was draped around Elain, but his eyes were on you, not focused on the conversation his fiancé was having with the people in front of them. His gaze sent shivers throughout your body but you forced your eyes away from him and back to the male in front of you. You needed a distraction. “Would you like to dance?”

Surin smiled brightly. “Lead the way.”

The two of you danced the night away, the alcohol you had consumed boosting your courage and taking away your care for anyone else around you. Surin held you close as he spun you around, and you knew there was a genuine smile across your face.

The two of you fell into a slow sway. “I never thought I would be here.” Surin whispered as he kissed your hairline.

“What, attending an inner circle party?” You questioned as your head rested on his chest.

He laughed. “No, dancing here.” He paused and you met his gaze. “With you.”

“I am certainly enjoying my time with you.” There was no lie in your words, the time spent with Surin greatly bettered your mood.

“I want to spend more time with you Y/N. I know this is very random, but I think you are a beautiful female with a great heart. And I would be honored to get to know you more.” Surin stared down at you, his cheeks flushed with a light pink, as if it took some courage to admit his feelings to you.

You stared at him, contemplating whether it was the right choice. But maybe it could be for the best. There was no harm in figuring that out. “I would like that too.”

Surin smiled widely before bringing his lips to yours, his smile never faded as your lips moved with one another, you closed your eyes, holding Surin close, until you were abruptly pulled away from him.

You opened your eyes to find Azriel standing between the two of you, his shadows encasing him like a fog, the people around you staring at the scene in front of them. Hushed whispers and gasps echoed throughout the air.

“Azriel!” You heard Elain scream, but Azriel never moved his eyes from you, he was breathing heavy, fists clenched tightly at his side. Surin was pushed onto the ground behind him, Nesta and Cassian trying to help him up. You moved to reach for him but Azriel had grabbed ahold of you before you could, transporting the two of you into the river house.

“What the fuck Azriel?” You yelled, noticing he put the two of you in his bedroom. “Who gave you the right?” There were no words to describe the anger you felt.

“Where did you run off to that day Y/N? I was worried sick.” Azriel looked at you, his shadows still frantic, you leaned against the chair within his room, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave without a conversation.

“Nowhere in particular. You don’t need to worry about me, maybe you should go check on your party, you left with quite a scene.” You spoke with no emotion. The image of everyone's horrified expressions replaying in your mind.

“What happened?” He asked, ignoring your words entirely.

You stared at Azriel, the obvious concern he had for you was prominent in his tone. But you couldn’t tell him the real reason. Not yet. “I had a panic attack.” A statement that wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Why?” Another question. You sighed, straightening your posture.

“Why does it matter Az?”

“Because it does!” He snapped, you were taken aback by the sudden change in his voice. “Because I was worried that something happened to you.”

“I really should be getting back to Surin.” You moved toward the door, but Azriel stepped in front of it.

“Please don’t go. Every time I am near you, you disappear. I just want to talk to you. Ever since you got back I have barely gotten a word in.”

“If you haven’t noticed but I left my date out there. After you rudely interrupted us. Again. Whatever it is you need to talk about can wait.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Azriel lowered his voice, moving a few steps closer.

“Where the hell is this coming from Az? I don’t understand anything with you anymore.” He didn’t respond, letting the eerie silence take over the room surrounding you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You said you hate that you love me? Did you really mean that?” Azriel questioned, his tone desperate, as if that question had been sitting on his tongue since the last time the two of you truly spoke, but perhaps it had been.

You gasped softly, the memories haunting your mind. “Yes.” You breathed. Moving further away from him. If he wanted to have this conversation than so be it. If he wanted honesty you would give it to him. “I cannot think without my thoughts being of you. I live each day with the regret of not telling you sooner. So yes I hate that I love you because if I didn’t, if I never had these feelings in the first place, than I wouldn’t have to live my life with this affliction it has caused.”

“I never wanted this to happen, I never wanted you to leave.” He admitted and you could tell in his voice that it was the truth, but everything still felt off. He still let you leave, he never once asked what was wrong, if he cared, he had an odd way of showing it.

“You act one way but speak another. How am I supposed to know what you want Azriel?”

“I want you.” He whispered.

“What?” You must of been hearing things. The words of his confession weighing heavy on your heart.

He kept his eyes on you as he moved toward you. “I want you, Y/N.”

You tried to move away but your back hit a wall. He inched closer to you, his hands finding their way up to your face, resting gently along your jaw. You were stuck between him and the wall, your heart racing as you stared up at him. You placed your hands on his chest, but you didn’t push away, his heart beat rapidly underneath your fingertips, your breaths entwined.

He moved his forehead to rest against yours, his hazel eyes solely focused on you. “I have always wanted you,” His voice was hoarse and his touch sent shivers throughout your body, the way his chest was firmly pressed against yours. You knew this was wrong. “Tell me to stop.” And as much as you needed to, as much as your mind was screaming to push him away, you couldn’t. Your eyes shut as he closed the remaining distance between you and him, your lips touching ever so slightly. And when you didn’t move away, he wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer, deepening the kiss that should have never happened in the first place.

But yet, neither of you could pull away.

Taglist (I crossed out the ones that tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, I am still trying to figure out why :/) : @honestlywtfisgoingon @fanfictioniseverything @marina468 @positivewitch @maviee @blurredlamplight @bookslut420 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elle10 @dragonstoneprincess @holywolfsstuff @reiincarnatiion @valeridarkness @feiwelinchen @sv0430 @kennedy-brooke @emturtles @nightcourtwritings @zephyg-06 @chantalleke91 @katherinereid @loulou0101 @shadowsingersmate24 @tcris2020 @shadowsinger-654 @nobody00sthings @lucyysthings @turkishgirlslife @rachelnicolee @mich0731 @tobifeemo @kristeristerin @sinnful-darling @hannzoaks @zoe2 @strangersunghoon @bangtanbecks @juneangel21 @hanatsuki-hime @acourtofmarvels @cmay25 @its-sam-allgood

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #Azriel #azriel fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar fandom #reader insert #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster

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girl-failure · 2 months

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Transwoman needs answers

this isnt an easy post to write and it's going to be full of info about me that's personal and embarassing but I am desperate for answers and assitance so please bear with me. Long story short, im almost 3 years hrt (may 19th will be exact) and it's like nothing has changed. More info under the cut.

I'm going to try and explain everything to the best of my memory, but exact dosages and stuff might be fuzzy and inexact. I began HRT on May 19th 2021, when I was 22. I took one and a half 2mg pills, twice (morning and night) daily. I took them sublingually. I was also prescribed Spironolactone, though the exact dose escapes me (i remember it was 1 pill nightly). I had only come out as trans in the December the previous year, so i considered myself unfathomably lucky to get to start so soon. I had done this through informed consent at a planned parenthood and was excited by the possibility of a future where my own body didn't make me want to die. The idea of changing my body gave me a feeling of control in my life that had been entirely absent until that point. I knew I wanted all the help I could get with breast development (the women in my immediate family are well endowed) and I had read & heard from other trans women that prog could help, but I'd have to wait to ask for it.

I think it was on December 15, 2021, I was officially prescribed 100 progesterone nightly. At this point I had began to notice softer skin, lighter hair, the few bits of acne left over from high school had gone entirely, and the inklings of breasts beginning to form. My libido had all but dissipated entirely at that point, but I was told (mostly by other trans women) it would come back, especially after starting prog, and that my body would likely experience pleasure differently, and that my orgasm would be very different. The fat from my stomach (i wasn't overweight or underweight, i was pretty average for a man my height, but I did have a masculine stomach I despised) hadn't relocated at all, but I knew HRT wasn't a sprint, but a marathon, and I had a long way to go. This continued for a long time, eventually i would be bumped up to two 2mg of E (sublingual pill) twice daily (8mg total), and my Spiro would change to 200mg a day EDIT: My Spiro dosages did fluctuate, though again I don't recall the exact dosages, (I initially got it confused with my prog dosage, sorry), though there was the occasional few week period where I'd be bumped back down to one and a half E pills because I had timed my blood-work poorly. It had been a while since starting HRT and I was starting to worry. My libido never came back, I was unable to feel the sensation of pleasure entirely, my breasts & nipples never became sensitive or had growth pains, and my breasts really hadn't grown at all. My stomach still made me feel awful and masculine because fat continued to pile up there instead of in the feminine places I was told and led to believe it should!!! I was scared and frightened and upset. I'd say I developed an eating disorder but my eating was already disordered. I was afraid of food. Afraid it'd just make me look manly, instead of going to my hips/waist/whatever and breasts like it was supposed to. I began to feel like the hrt that was supposed to save my life was just making me feel worse.

On October 23rd, 2023, I finally started seeing a doctor again after 9 years of not being able to afford it, and only then because a parent got insurance through their work. I was officially prescribed Estradiol Valerate (.3mL intramuscular, and the bottle itself is 20mg/mL) , and quit Spiro outright. Now that I was talking to a doc, especially one who had been working with trans people in my area for years, I was starting to have hope again that maybe injections would solve my problems. After all, they're supposed to be more powerful right? Well after some blood-work revealing that my T levels were so low they were undetectable, we started fiddling with my injection dosages. I went down to .25mL. Nothing changed. I went down to .2ml. Nothing changed. I stayed at .2mL and was prescribed a med called EstraTest (.625mg E and 1.25mg T), a single pill which has both E and T in it, to try and raise my T levels back to measurable levels and hopefully find that golden ratio of E and T where maybe my body will start working again and start changing. But that brings us today. I still don't feel any sensation of pleasure (masturbating is pointless, intimacy just feels like I'm disappointing my partner), let alone a female orgasm (which as embarrassing as it is to admit, I was really looking forward to), my nipples still don't get sensitive and my chest doesn't get sore or get growing pains. My breasts look the same way they did 4 months into hrt. I've still had practically no fat redistribution, though I've gotten better about eating and not being afraid of food. I'm even beginning to notice my acne slowing starting to come back. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Why has nothing worked? Why does it feel like I'm regressing? I lost my health insurance earlier this week, and I can't afford to see my doctor again with my dumb pizza delivery job, so I haven't been able to ask to try anything more drastic to try and fix these issues. My current theories are that maybe my body is just more resistant to E? Which would be awful, but might be handled by just tripling my dose or something? Or

that my receptors are fried, and that the only solution would be to stop taking my HRT for a while (maybe even a long while). I pray that isn't the case, because I'd sooner off myself then let my body regress any further.

So this is a call for help. If anyone has any idea what could be causing these problems for me, or knows how I might be able to fix them, PLEASE let me know. I've lost hope in having a future as a woman, or even just feeling apathy towards my body (instead of intense self-loathing) at this point.

Here's my ca$happ if anyone wants to throw some money my way and maybe I'll be able to see the doctor again. cash.app/$occultChloe

#trans #transgender #trans woman #help #please help #trans crowdfund #trans fundraiser #mtf hrt #hrt #hormones

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juancarlos-ortiz · 21 days

Text

Safe - Juice Ortiz x Reader (Daughter!Reader x Dad!Happy Lowman)

Request:

A/N: I hope you enjoy anon! I'm sorry this ended up being more Reader x Happy (daughter/father) than Juice x Reader. I'm thinking of doing a part 2 if anyone is interested. Also, lets say that reader is early 20s and Happy was like 15 when she was conceived otherwise I feel like the age gaps would get a little inappropriate.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex (off page), kissing, swearing, mentions of killing and violence

Word Count: 1984 words

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. Sitting up, you leaned onto one side, resting your weight on your elbow on the bed as you looked down at Juice. He was puffing like you, a satiated smile spreading across his face as he let his eyes roam down the length of your body hungrily. You rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh, dragging the top sheet up from the end of the bed and draping it over your clammy skin. "No, no, no," Juice tutted, ripping the sheet away from you. "Don't hide from me now." He gently nudged you back down, leaning over you and grazing his teeth against the soft skin of the top of your breast.

You gasped lightly, trembling as his hands began to map the warm skin of your torso. "Juice," mumbled as he kissed your exposed chest, slowly making his way towards your peaked nipple. "Hmmm?" he hummed against your skin, drawing a shuddered breath out of you. "We gotta get up," you pushed him off you gently and he groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically and throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them. "Don't wanna," he pouted. You laughed and leaned over, pressing your mouth against his. "You need to get to TM and I told Jax I would watch Abel today, since Gemma isn't up for it and Tara is working."

Juice groaned again. "Do you think bikers can take sick days?" he asked. You just laughed, standing up and grabbing both of your towels from where they hung on the back of your bedroom door. You threw them at him, staring hungrily at his naked form as he made his way to your ensuite. "Your dad has really been giving me shit lately, it's almost like he knows somethings going on," he said. Your stomach soured, any inkling of arousal now completely extinguished. "I really don’t appreciate you bringing up my father after what we've just been doing," you grated out. Juice only laughed, disappearing into your bathroom and turning the shower on.

You pulled on your dressing gown and made your way to your kitchen, switching the electric kettle on and grabbing two mugs out of the cupboard. The low rumble of a motorcycle engine made you pause, tilting your head to the side as you listened. The noise got closer, and suddenly your pulse began to sprint as the bike audibly slowed down out the front of your house. You rushed to the front door, peaking through the curtained window to the side of it. "Shit," you cursed as you watched Happy Lowman swing himself off his bike, undoing his helmet. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," you whispered in a panic, running to your bathroom.

You dragged the shower curtain open quickly, making Juice jump. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart, couldn't wait to get in here huh?" he wiggled his eyebrows seductively. "Juice, baby, I need you to be quiet, ok," you said, waving your hand at him to get him to shut up. His brow furrowed in confusion. "It's funny that you mentioned my dad…" you trailed off. Juice's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?!" he asked. You held a finger to your lips as you heard your front door open. "Ok, keep quiet and let me get rid of him."

"'Ey kid, you here?" Happy called out. You left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and making your way out to where your father stood. You ran a hand over your hair and pulled your dressing gown closer to your body as you walked towards him. "Hey dad, not like you to swing by this early," you smiled, trying to act calm while your heart thundered in your chest. Happy looked you up and down, a scowl on his face. Hiding things from your dad was damn near impossible, and when you did you felt extremely guilty for it. But with your situation with Juice, you had no choice. There was no way he would allow it, and you didn’t want Juice to end up as another tattoo on your fathers stomach.

"You don't want me here?" he grunted, flicking the toothpick in his mouth from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, resting your fists on your hips as you shook your head. "What? No! Of course I want you here, I just… wasn't expecting you that's all," you rambled, motioning to the kitchen. "Otherwise I would of made you some breakfast." Happy's eyes drifted to the kitchen, landing on the two mugs you had left out. You swallowed, your smile faltering. "Looks like you were expecting someone," he scowled. You nodded slowly. "Yeah, I mean, I heard your bike coming so… I thought you might want a coffee or something," you smiled. "But you came from your bedroom?" he asked. You huffed out a frustrated laugh. "Geez, what's with the interrogation?"

Happy only tilted his head, crossing his arms as his mouth pulled into a grumpy frown. "I was running to turn the shower off," you explained. Happy shook his head. You could feel your lies unravelling at the seams, your stomach beginning to feel queasy. "Shower's still on," he prodded. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "I know, I'll go turn it off now," you turned on your heel and began to walk away. "Why is Juice's bike out the front?" he asked. You froze immediately, cold washing over you from head to toe. Slowly you turned, meeting your fathers eyes. "Is it?" you asked, your voice a higher octave. "Maybe he knows the neighbours or something," you tried to shrug nonchalantly, scrabbling to hold onto your last efforts to keep your secret.

"Wrong," was all you father said before he brushed past you, heading into your room. You spun after him, grasping his arm in an attempt to stop him from going any further. "Wait, no wait, dad please I can explain," you pleaded as he shrugged out of your grip. He opened your bedroom door and froze when he saw Juice's cut and clothes folded neatly on the armchair in the corner of your room. Happy turned to you, his face now in an angry grimace. "Don't hurt him," you begged, your voice a hoarse whisper. Happy just kept moving, pulling open the bathroom door and ripping the shower curtain to the side. Juice yelped, covering his groin, his eyes bouncing between you and Happy frantically. "Oh, hey Hap," he said awkwardly, a scared smile on his face. "Fancy seeing you here?"

"Get dressed," Happy barked. "And get to the clubhouse. Now. Before I do something to make you both cry." He pulled the curtain shut and spun to face you. "Living room, now," he growled. "I think there's some things you need to tell me." You nodded, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his stare. Happy left the room and you followed miserably, your heart feeling ready to fracture. No doubt this was the end of you and Juice, there was no way in hell Happy would let you keep seeing him, especially after you had lied about it. Despite being a legal adult, you still never wanted to do things to disappoint your father. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness. That and you wanted to prevent the amount of dead bodies piling up in the San Joaquin area.

You slowly sat down on the couch, the backs of your eyes stinging and a lump forming in your throat. You tried to squash the sensations, knowing Happy wouldn’t have any sympathy for tears at this moment. You heard your bedroom door open as Juice stepped out, now fulling clothed, doing his cut up. He stopped when he saw you sitting on the couch, your hands folded in your lap timidly, your eyes brimming silver with unshed tears. He glanced between you and Happy, and for a second you were sure he was going to make his way to you , perhaps comfort you. But instead he turned, and made his way to the front door. It wasn't until the door had closed and you heard his bike start up and pull away that Happy spoke.

"You keepin' shit from me now?" he asked. You shrugged, picking at one of your nails. "You would never have allowed it," you sniffed, blinking the tears away. "Allowed what?" Happy prompted. You looked up at him, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You motioned your head towards the front door that Juice had left through. "Juice and I…" you leant back into the cushions of the couch. "And what are you?" Happy asked. Your brows pulled together. "What?" you questioned. "You and Juice," Happy grated. "What are you?" You scoffed and shook your head. "You really want me to explain?" you choked out. Happy shook his head. "You his Old Lady, or what?" he pressed.

Your mouth pressed into a line, and you shook your head. "No, it's not like that it's just… casual," you said. Happy's face turned bitter. "What, so you would be ok with it if I was his Old Lady?" you asked, confused and a little hopeful. It was your fathers turn to shrug. "Just don’t want you being treated like some croweater," he admitted. You sat up straighter, shaking your head. "He doesn’t treat me like that dad," you said, holding a hand up when Happy tried to cut you off. "Seriously, he's so sweet. The sweetest. And kind and generous, and thoughtful. He's funny and understanding and-" "Alright alright, I get it," Happy cut you off. "I feel safe with him," you admitted. "There's not many people I can say that about."

Happy knew you were right. Since you were young it had been you and him. Your mom had split and even though he had his mom and aunt to help out when you were younger, you two had basically been joined at the hip. He had been there for every bumped head, scraped knee, fractured bone and broken heart since you had entered this world. He was your safe place to land, and to hear you admit that someone else made you feel that way too - although in an obviously different way - had him feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t want to share you. Wanted to hide you from the world and not let anyone ever know about you. But on the other hand, you weren't his little girl anymore. At least not physically. You were all grown up, and to know that someone other than him made you feel safe, well… who was he to stand in your way.

Slowly he nodded his head. "Gonna take me a while to be really ok with it," he said. "But I ain't gonna stop you from doing what you want. Or being with who you want. Especially if he makes you happy." You stood abruptly from the couch, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Wait, what?" you sputtered. "If he makes you happy then I don’t see why I should stop… whatever it is you’re doing," he gestured vaguely. You grinned and raced over to your father, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. He gripped you back, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "But if he hurts you, then he's gotta die. Like a lot," he vowed. You rolled your eyes and pulled away. "Yeah, yeah, drama queen," you pushed Happy away. "Gonna go talk to him," Happy said, moving towards the front door. "Wait, wait, what? No, what?" you blabbed, following him. "Gotta make sure he knows what'll happen if he fucks this up," he explained. "You're not gonna hurt him are you?" you asked. Happy smiled dryly. "Don't worry. I'll leave his pretty face alone."

#sons of anarchy #soa #juice ortiz #juice soa #juan carlos juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy fic #happy soa #happy lowman

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musings-of-miss-j · 5 months

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part three: in which you're further reminded of the doctor's unsavoury methods while childe and a mysterious stranger occupy your thoughts

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: slowest burn that ever did burn, snarky and a tiny bit socially anxious reader, gn reader who is occasionally referred to as 'miss', fluff, crack

warnings: G O R E . blood, unethical scientific experimentation, minor character death, dottore is his own warning and frankly the reader is a little morally questionable too, reader experiences a small identity crisis and kills a man, attempted drugging (dottore tries to place the reader under the influence of a truth serum)

please let me know if you find any pronoun slips!!

series masterlist

word count: 5539 words

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

“Oh, Lord Two? Um… At twenty to three.” Anya told you.

You cursed softly under your breath. It was half past two, so you teetered just on the edge of being late, considering how difficult it was to navigate the ridiculous labyrinth- like palace. You grabbed your best copy of your thesis, the typewritten one you’d paid an outrageous amount for in Fontaine, as well as your notes on your current research; elemental magic and the human body. It’s quite ambitious, the sage of your Darshan had told you, which roughly translated to ‘you’re completely insane if you have even an inkling of hope that this is a worthy investment of your resources.’

After carefully placing the stack of paper into the slim wooden casing Tighnari had made for you, you grabbed your room key and ushered Anya out while flipping through your notebook for the map you’d drawn. You locked your door before all but sprinting towards the spiral staircases, taking the steps two at a time. You were out of breath by the time you reached the landing, but the humiliating prospect of being late was enough incentive to maintain the brisk pace despite the searing stitch that grew in your side. (Cyno would roll his eyes and bracingly tell you that even a scholar needed regular exercise, and damn him for being right.) Several twists and turns and anxious glances at your pocket watch and notebook later, you arrived at the door with four minutes to spare. With a pleased huff, you rebalanced your glasses on your nose and ran your finger down the seam of the door and wall. The words flickered sky blue, and it eased open when you thought please. Telepathic magic at its finest.

you took care not to seem winded as you entered the laboratory. The Doctor had his back to you, focused on something out of your sight. You heard faint whimpering, and when you approached you were a little sickened to see a man strapped to the vivisection table. He was clearly drugged, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and the Doctor methodically pulled a long, red string from a tiny gash in his inner elbow. With a jolt of revulsion, you realised that the string was the man’s arteries. Archons above. You knew the Doctor was morally dubious at best, but surely he could’ve conducted such an experiment on a fresh corpse and yielded similar results. Bruises littered the man’s face, yet the rest of his body was perfectly intact, not a single broken bone though one of his eyes was swollen and his lip bled from a deep gash. Even the clothes he wore didn’t bear signs of extreme wear, not ragged or bloodstained. No more violence than necessary. You clenched your teeth. The subject must remain in a semi-controlled state to ensure validity of the experiment. His sleeve was tidily rolled up to his elbow, but the incision from which the Doctor withdrew the arteries gushed blood in a wavering rhythm; that of his heartbeat, which slowly but surely dwindled. The Doctor didn’t even look up from the forceps he was using to carefully draw out the blood vessels, inch by inch, when you approached him and the test subject. The man spotted you, and even in his delirious state he began to thrash and unintelligibly beg around the gag in his mouth. Distaste swelled in the back of your throat; he hadn’t even been granted the dignity of unconsciousness. The restraints caused blisters and redness where they touched his skin, a sure indicator that he’d been strapped there for a few hours at least. You grimaced, but resolutely kept your eyes on him as the Doctor (ha. The Doctor) slowly, methodically, lovingly pulled out his lifeline. You didn’t deserve the comfort of looking away.

The experiment was familiar. The Akademiya sages, blasted hypocrites they were, had utilised it time and time again; the awful nature of the tests they conducted was a well-known and universally unacknowledged secret. So really, you didn’t even have the luxury of claiming yourself innocent or different from the Doctor. You’d known, just as well as any Akademiya student had known, that lives whittled away like wood chips at a carpenter’s workshop within the walls of the building you’d called home, and you’d done nothing to stop it. For science, you’d let yourselves think. For philosophy, for the good of humanity, for art, even! Looking at the Doctor now, his mask obscuring his expression but his jaw and mouth relaxed, his gloves and forceps stained red as he tugged away at this test subject’s- this person’s life with nothing more than a controlled flick of his wrist, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be adequately horrified. Which you suppose, in the very act of being accustomed to such gruesome displays, made you a monster too. To your dismay, the man wouldn’t even die. He gasped and wheezed and clawed at the table he was strapped to, and after counting to ten (no more than ten second’s suffering, Tighnari had taught you) you leaned across the table and cleanly snapped the man’s neck.

The Doctor’s pace never faltered until the red cord broke, a pile of it laying in a glass dish by his side and the other end indistinguishable in the red of the man’s wound. You stared at the body on the table, the broken neck. Yet another death on your hands. You were the one to break the silence this time.

“I suppose this is some form of a test, doctor.”

“You’re quite right,” he confirmed smoothly, turning away from the body on the table and discarding his gloves. You sighed, tightening your gloves and glancing at your watch. The whole thing had taken barely ten minutes. Ten minutes to wrench the blood vessels from a human body. Usually it took longer. Bile rose in your throat at the way your mind so readily supplied the information.

“Did I pass?”

He grinned at you over his shoulder as he washed the blood from his hands, staining the water.

“With flying colours.”

“Joy,” you deadpanned, tugging at the collar of your cloak. The presence of a fresh body cloyed the air, pressing at your airways. You could never get properly used to this part, the blaring absence of life where there previously had been one. The Doctor walked back over to the vivisection table, pulling his leather gloves on along the way. Well, technically it’s an autopsy table now.

“This pathetic excuse for a man was a traitor to the Tsaritsa,” he began, staring down at the body. For once, you were grateful the mask hid his eyes; what if you’d seen glee, contentment in them? “Let it be known that this is the fate awaiting all who follow the same path.”

“Duly noted, doctor.”

“I do hope so.” He turned his faceless gaze onto you. “I’d hate for my student to end up nothing more than a test subject.” And strangely enough, he would dislike the experience of having to perform such a procedure on you. The thought perplexed him; why would he care? Bizarre.

“I doubt you’d feel anything at all,” you countered, handing him the wooden case filled with your paperwork. You wished you’d been late, now. You wished you hadn’t been crowned valedictorian and piqued the Fatui’s interest. Perhaps then you could’ve left these malpractices behind as a chapter from your past. “Do enlighten me as to the purpose of this particular experiment, doctor. Other than observing my reactions to it.”

He ignored you in favour of reading your notes. Bastard, joke’s on you. You’re listening to me either way, whether directly or indirectly.

“Perhaps I should start calling you by a different title,” you remarked, more to yourself than him. “’Doctor’ isn’t very fitting after this display in human compassion.”

To your surprise, he answered, though without looking up from the papers you’d handed him.

“No. You will continue to address me in your usual manner.”

“As the doctor wishes,” you replied, making sure to inject a healthy dose of sarcasm into your voice as you took out the solutions you’d be using that day. As Nilou would've said, the show must go on.

A servant arrived some time later to wheel the body away, calm and unfazed. Clearly this was a routine occurrence, and you ruminated over the likelihood of being tied to the vivisection table yourself as you worked. By the time the thin, watery rays of light burned orange with the sunset and pierced through the relentless snowfall, you’d decided that it wasn’t a particularly pressing concern. If the Doctor had, for whatever reason, wanted to experiment on you specifically then the Fatui wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of recruiting you. They would’ve discreetly whisked you away instead. Hardly the most reassuring of conclusions to arrive at; regardless, as you measured out samples of the newly made elemental stabilisers you concluded that it could definitely be worse. After all, you had access to a marvellous lab and infinite time to pursue your research. And the Doctor was inarguably a genius, despite… Well, everything. You didn’t exchange any more pleasantries for the remainder of the day. Concocting the elemental stabilisers was a delicate process with disastrous consequences if your hand so much as slipped, and talking to the Doctor was mentally taxing enough without the threat of a possible electro explosion looming over your head. He read through every one of the papers you’d given him, and every now and then you hazarded a glance in his direction to try and determine his thoughts. A fruitless endeavour, as his expression (or at least what you could see of it) remained completely impassive as he sorted through the stack of notes. Still, having an academic higher-up evaluate your research was as nerve-racking as it had been in your first year, and you resented him for doing it in front of you. That was probably on purpose, too.

Once the stabilisers had been painstakingly measured out and stored away, you squinted at your watch to check the time through the remaining vapour after making the pyro-hydro stabiliser. The pearly face revealed that you’d been in the lab for four bloody hours, and your stomach pointedly seconded the fact by growling loudly enough that surely even the Knights of Favonius heard it. You noted the time you’d spent and the solutions you’d made into what you were coming to think of as your Fatui notebook, and after wiping your glasses clean of the spatters you made your way to the door.

“Take your documents with you if you’ve already finished.”

‘Already?’ Did four hours and twenty minutes of work not constitute anything? Damn him.

You pivoted on your heel and turned back to take your things from the Doctor’s desk.

“Anything else, Doctor?” you asked, rearranging the paperwork back into the order you’d had it in.

He settled on a response that he knew would get on your nerves, so that he could derive the thrill of watching you reign in your anger. “Fetch me a pot of tea,” he replied idly, his focus on the last piece of your paperwork.

“With respect, doctor, I am not a maid,” you said pointedly. Irritating as it was, you had to hover on the other side of his desk and wait for him to finish reading. Why would he tell me to take my things if he hadn’t even read them all yet? You were beginning to suspect that every one of his actions was specifically tailored to invoke annoyance, though how he so effectively pushed your buttons was beyond you.

He looked up from your report on the effects of prolonged elemental exposure on ancient mechanisms. It was one of your best, and if he attempted to criticise it you had at least sixty different explanations on why your method was the most effective. Defensive much? Alhaitham’s voice mocked.

“Are you refusing to accommodate your superior’s requests?” He replied, a contented smile spreading across his face. You took a deep breath and rationalised that punching said face wasn’t a suitable course of action, no matter how alluring it was. He didn’t even have the grace to hide the fact that he enjoyed prodding at your composure. Didn’t he already have tea anyway?

“Not at all. I'm merely bringing the inconsistencies of your requests to light,” you explained as civilly as possible. “The assistance required of me pertains to academic matters, and you don’t see how this includes fetching tea.”

“Then join me for tea instead.”

Your eyebrows must have reached your hairline. “I beg your pardon?” Every expression suited you, it seemed; each new reaction was something truly worthy of documentation.

“You heard me.” The Doctor’s vexing smile hadn’t slipped an inch. He leaned forward across the desk. “Take a seat. Or do you intend to display further insubordination?”

You tamped down the urge to snap and lowered yourself into the chair across from him. The report he’d been reading lay forgotten on his desk, and your eyes paused on the sheet of paper beside it. The writing on it wasn’t yours, and you realised with a touch of trepidation that he’d been jotting notes about your work, and although every one of your published reports had been approved after prolonged evaluation by the Akademiya you still had to swallow the lump of apprehension in your throat. He really did embody the air of a professor ridiculously well, with his ceaseless arrogance and lofty attitude, and it brought back too many memories of being a nervous rookie for your liking. A servant brought in a tray laden with a teapot, two cups and a plate of cake. Just when did he call for that? The Doctor poured out the tea, still smiling and being much too cordial not to rouse suspicion; as such, when he offered you a cup your first thought was poison. You stared at the tea then back up at him, frowning slightly.

“What’s the real purpose of this little exercise, doctor?”

He had the sheer nerve to chuckle and lean back in his chair, relaxed and unhurried, as if you were so terribly silly for having your guard up.

“Do you need a reason to have tea with my student?”

You levelled him with a long, pointed look; the kind you used to give to the younger students you’d tutored every now and then. It wasn’t quite as effective on him, but he did drop the mocking smile with a sigh.

“Drink the tea,” he said bluntly, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk as if to analyse you more closely. “That’s an order.”

You snorted. “Well, doctor, you’ve just given me a marvellous incentive to not drink this tea at any cost.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, but his lips remained in a straight, neutral line. You wondered what expression his mask concealed. (Annoyance would be the answer. He’d expected you to fall headfirst into his little trap; perhaps he’d underestimated you.)

“I am not patient enough to allow for your defiance. Drink the tea.”

You pursed your lips to hold back a grin. The Doctor had given you the upper hand by issuing an order you could refuse, and even though he probably did it willingly it still gave you no small satisfaction. Besides, your curiosity was piqued. What could possibly be in this tea that he so desperately wanted you to drink?

“Perhaps I’ll be more willing to acquiesce to your demand if you tell me precisely what’s in it.”

He released a long-suffering sigh, dropping the friendly act altogether, and leaned back in his chair. He tugged thoughtfully at his leather gloves, and it struck you as humorous that you shared such a similar tick.

“A truth serum.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And is that all?”

“I doubt you’d believe me even if I said yes.”

You laughed despite yourself. What a pleasant noise. Winning an interaction with the immovable Doctor so early into your studies was quite amusing, not to mention a massive ego boost.

“You’re quite right,” you conceded, relaxing in your seat and surveying him thoughtfully. “I'm grateful that you didn’t take a different route and simply inject it directly into my bloodstream when the chance presented itself.”

“You should be,” he replied, brusque and perhaps even irritated. Clearly he didn’t share your amusement. “It’s a mistake I won’t repeat.”

“The Fatui are so terribly fond of their blatant threats,” you mused, pulling your watch out of its inner pocket to check the time. “Wouldn’t it be more productive to ask your questions and see what I try to lie about? I'm sure you’re adept enough at reading body language to identify the truth.” At this point you were just gloating, trying to string him along. A fatal flaw you readily acknowledged in your personality; you savoured victories with a little too much enjoyment.

The muscle in his cheek twitched again, and you couldn’t help but feel quite pleased with yourself for getting on his nerves to the point where you could identify the tell-tale signs. The logical side of your brain thankfully decided to return to the situation at hand rather than calculating how long it would take for you to make significant progress in your research (two weeks maximum, if you were clever about your time), and you regained enough clarity to recognise that what you was doing was incredibly stupid. Riling up a Harbinger; Archons, where did your self-preservation go when your pride took the wheel?

You shoved the smug grin off your face and fastidiously schooled your features back to neutrality, slipping behind a façade of polite detachment. The Doctor, by contrast, smiled and tilted his head to the side as you forcibly removed the emotion from your face.

“Fascinating,” you heard him whisper, and for the sake of your own sanity you pretended you hadn’t. He fixed you with a stare that you could acutely feel even through his mask, and you stared right back. Two mad scientists.

You brushed the thought away; even if you did go insane you doubted you’d ever reach the Doctor’s level.

“You may leave. I expect you to be here at seven o’clock every morning.”

“Understood, doctor.”

He gestured at the door with an elegant wave of his hand, picking up the report he still hadn’t returned. You shot one last fleeting look at his writing on the separate sheet of paper before leaving the laboratory.

And bumping straight into Childe.

It took a few muffled curses and a thank you to every higher power you could think of that your glasses remained intact for you to regain your bearings, and the first thing you did once the corridor stopped spinning was shoot Childe a glare, though it was somewhat half-hearted.

“You’re incredibly lucky that my glasses didn’t break.”

He just laughed and even had the sheer nerve to ruffle your hair. You were so shocked by the gesture that for a moment you didn’t move to stop him, but once your brain had caught up with the situation you batted his hands away.

“And what would you have done if I did break your glasses, Trixy?” He challenged, following you down the spiral staircase with that ever-present grin. “Defeated me in a duel?”

Archons alive, he’s teasing me.

“No, no,” you replied sweetly. “I’d just slip some very potent toxin into your food.” Two can play at that game.

That elicited another delighted laugh.

“Stick to the battleground you’re familiar with, eh?”

“Naturally.”

You turned to enter the hallway where your room was, but he grabbed your cloak and tugged you in the opposite direction despite your protests.

“Oh, what are you doing-“

“You missed lunch,” he cut you off, practically dragging you out into the courtyard. It looked much more welcoming than it had when you’d arrived, with the hazy glow from the sunset glinting off the snow and the nearby sound of a chirping bird carrying through the chill air. You even glimpsed tiny blue flowers peeking through the layer of white. You relented, letting him pull you along without resisting.

“Oh, yes,” you agreed absent-mindedly, watching a fox with fur white as the snow disappeared into a burrow at the base of a pine tree. Someone within the palace probably fed it regularly, considering how it made no effort to hide itself.

“Is Dottore already overworking you?” He asked with a touch of humour, linking his arm in yours as he led you through the cobbled pathways. For some reason, you allowed it.

“He tried to poison me,” you offered, lengthening your stride to keep pace with him.

“That does sound like him,” he agreed with a snort as he dragged you into a pavilion adorned with glittering golden lights, which were naturally of the floating, magical variety because Archons forbid the Fatui do anything without being ridiculously extra. Still, watching the gusts of snowflakes through a golden frame wasn’t such a terrible experience, even if it didn’t offer any shelter from the biting cold and you had to properly fasten your cloak to keep it out. Childe evidently didn’t see the point in such frivolities, considering he wore nothing but that grey suit and the amused way he watched you adjust your gloves.

“You won’t miss lunch tomorrow, will you?”

You idly wondered why he was so fixated on that.

“Do the recruits and Harbingers even dine in the same place?”

“Don’t dodge the question,” he said mock-sternly. You chuckled.

“In the very act of issuing that instruction you also dodged my question.”

He dismissed the technicality with a flippant wave of his arm, leaning against the railing of the pavilion.

“Quit shoving your intellect in my face with those fancy words,” he said, his grin taking on a playful tilt.

“Only if you stop calling me by that childish nickname.”

He guffawed. “’Childish.’ Good one.”

You groaned, raking a hand down your face at the dreadful joke. Truly Cyno levels of unfunny, though you suppose you did set yourself up for it. He nudged you in the ribs with his elbow before you could swat him away.

“You scholars are so uptight,” he teased. “If you can learn all that complicated science jargon then you can also learn to take a joke.”

“I can take a joke perfectly fine. I'm tolerating your presence right now, aren’t I?”

He let out a sigh, throwing an arm around your shoulders and ruffling your hair with his fist. You immediately tried to shove him away with an indignant yelp, but you might as well have been a harmless ladybird as far as he was concerned. “You have no respect for my position as a Harbinger, Trixy,” he told you in a jokingly strict tone of voice.

“You’ve done nothing to earn it,” you countered, wriggling out of his grip and running a hand through your hair in an attempt to rectify the havoc he’d no doubt wreaked.

“Will I earn it if I defeat you in combat?”

“Why, of course,” you replied with as much sarcasm as you could muster. You’d been reliably informed of its sheer magnitude. “Considering my untouchable physical prowess and how magnanimous a defeat it would be if you somehow succeeded.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel, then. Can’t have my ego taking such a beating, can I?”

“Oh, Archons forbid. Anything but your ego.”

The snow picked up, and you rushed back to the palace before it could pose a difficulty to finding your way back. Looks like a blizzard. Childe pushed the enormous front door shut and a few snowflakes fluttered inside only to melt the moment they touched the floor.

“Dinner should be ready in half an hour,” he told you as you approached the door to your room. Your stomach eagerly took this as a cue to growl.

“Three meals a day? We’re truly living in the lap of luxury.”

“So I’ll see you then?” Completely immune to sarcasm, as you were coming to learn.

“Alright.” you resolved to ask Anya to show you where the dining hall was so you could finish a quick lab report before eating.

He turned a corner and left the hallway, whistling cheerfully as he went.

The dining hall, as you came to learn in the coming days, was incredibly far away from your room. No hastily-sketched map would suffice to navigate the maze of corridors and ridiculous number of stairs, and you realised early on you’d most likely have to bring food back with you so you wouldn’t be obligated to make such a long trip every day. You were pondering the intricacies of what food would keep better and what options might be available when Anya gestured towards the dining room and then left. Embarrassing as it was, you still couldn’t find your way through the palace without guidance. The dining hall was massive and utterly packed with people as always. And unnecessarily lavish, but this particular aspect you were growing accustomed to the longer you stayed in the palace, though you still thought the crystal chandelier was a bit too much.

There weren’t many tables close to the windows because you was a little late to dinner that day, but you were nothing if not determined to maintain your own contentment, so you approached a table that was empty save for a young woman in purple robes and a swarm of strange creatures fluttering around her.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

She didn’t even spare you a glance.

“No.”

Ah, a fellow non-conversationalist. You sat down and began eating, surveying the dining room’s occupants and the whirling blizzard outside. You toyed absent-mindedly with the idea of striking up a conversation with the woman; after all, in a place like Snezhnaya where allies were few and far between especially for an outsider, even a casual acquaintance in the workplace would be beneficial. But it would also open more chances for backstabbing, figurative or literal. Best leave her be. You noticed with an uncomfortable prickle that every last person in the room wore a mask, though they varied in style and intricacy; the recruits with their bronze talismans had simple grey and black leather covering their eyes while the few odd silver talisman or Vision holders donned beautiful, decorative pieces. Though not as elegant as Signora or the Doctor’s, you noted as you ate. You wonder why you weren't given one.

As if she’d read your mind, the woman across from you spoke.

“Where’s your mask?”

It sounded almost like a demand, as though she believed herself entitled to the information, though a glance at the charms hanging from her waist revealed she held a bronze talisman just like yours; your ranking was more or less equal. It struck you as odd that a mere recruit would assert such authority in conversation, and you pondered the buzzing purple-winged creatures around her as an excuse to think before replying.

“I didn’t receive one.”

The buzzing picked up as the creatures flitted back and forth through the pointed ears on the hood of her cape. She abandoned her food in favour of staring at you through the slits in her mask.

“What do you mean you didn’t receive one?”

“I mean exactly what I said. I arrived here less than a month ago and wasn’t given a mask.”

“Ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. You refrained from rolling your eyes.

“Which Lord or Lady do you serve?”

“Why the interrogative tone?” you asked pleasantly, or as pleasantly as you could in your irritated state of mind.

“Answer the question.” Her plate forgotten, she was leaning forward across the table with her eyes trained on you, and you once more marvelled at her brazen attitude.

“Am I obligated to answer?” You asked after a moment’s thought.

“Yes-“ she cut herself off, clearing her throat and relaxing back in her chair. “No. I guess not.”

You raised your eyebrows and took a bite of food. The Snezhnayans really were fond of their fish.

“You’re not really a recruit, are you?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

Her snappish manner was more than enough of an answer.

“I’d wager a guess that you’re a higher-up undercover,” you replied, twirling your spoon contemplatively. “Your behaviour is far too authoritative for someone who’s supposedly at the bottom of the metaphorical food chain.”

The buzzing purple creatures vanished into thin air. That surprised you; the annoyance they’d invoked had been enough to convince you they were real. The woman’s gaze was palpable, and you made a valiant attempt to pretend you didn’t notice it.

“You’re right,” she said abruptly. You hummed in acknowledgement, refraining from asking her about her real identity. “But who are you?”

“Me?” you offered her a quick smile. “I'm a recruit, well and truly. Not a disguise to be found.”

“Yes, yes,” she conceded impatiently, rapping her knuckles on the table. “But you didn’t tell me what Harbinger you serve. Or your name.”

You swallowed the lump of apprehension in your throat; the alias you’d chosen to keep your real name secret still felt unfamiliar and blatantly dishonest on your tongue.

“I'm apprenticing under Lord Two,” you said, avoiding her second question entirely. “Where did the horrible buzzing things go?”

“They were illusions,” she replied dismissively, confirming your suspicions. “How did you obtain such a position?”

You fiddled with the clasp of your cloak. “Is it a particularly difficult endeavour?”

“Dottore has never taken on any subordinates.”

That caught you off guard, and you nearly overlooked the fact that she addressed him the same way Childe did. Could she possibly be a Harbinger too? But why would a Harbinger go undercover at their own base of operations?

“Really?”

“Yes. I'm still doubtful over whether or not you’re telling the truth.”

“And I'm curious as to why you care.”

She chuckled under her breath.

“Fair enough. Trade?” She suggested, tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. The soft tap noise stuck out more than the hubbub of the room, and you wondered if it was a trick similar to that of the illusionary purple things intended to keep your attention on the conversation.

“Alright. One question in exchange for another?”

“Deal.”

Meeting a kindred spirit was truly an unrivalled joy.

“How exactly did you manage to gain an apprenticeship with the Doctor?”

You hesitated. Sharing the details of your offer didn’t seem to be a very clever idea until you remembered the Doctor telling you that verbal agreements were legally binding in Snezhnaya. How bothersome.

“I was sent a letter from the Director offering me the position a week after graduating from the Akademiya.”

The woman made a contemplative noise and drummed a pattern on the table with her fingertips.

“What’s so special about you that the Director saw it fit to offer you a never before available position?” She asked bluntly. Well damn, girl. Hit right where it hurts.

You grinned. “One question was our agreement, yes?” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you had to admit her anger was indeed fearsome.

“My turn. Who are you?”

“I'm not going to tell you that.”

Huh? You cursed yourself for so readily believing she’d uphold her end of the agreement. Clearly you’d spent too much time in Liyue, where contracts were irrefutable law, and this morally questionable and easily twisted system still came as a shock.

“That’s… not fair in the slightest,” you remarked, pushing away your empty plate. “But at the very least it confirms you’re in a high enough position to disregard the rules without a second thought.”

A pleased smile graced her face, and you suddenly and very belatedly realised that she was beautiful in a sharp, morbid sort of way; like the edge of a well-polished knife or a brand new musket.

“Fairness doesn’t concern me. This isn’t Fontaine, after all.”

“Have you ever visited?” you asked, more out of polite curiosity than anything else. If she wouldn’t outright tell you her identity, then perhaps you could glean a clue from the exchange of pleasantries.

“Yes,” she replied shortly. Clearly she didn’t share your sentiment, though it was rather understandable; if she really was as high-ranking as you suspected then she could gather as much information about you as she wished without having to resort to seemingly empty conversation.

“Do you refuse to give me so much as a hint about your identity?” You pressed, resting your chin in your hand and watching her pensively.

“Yes. I refuse.”

With a disappointed sigh, you stacked your cutlery onto your empty plate and left them on the table like you’d seen the other recruits doing.

“Quite cruel of you to pique a scholar’s curiosity and leave it unfulfilled like that.”

A flash of her teeth in another smile.

“What can I say? I'm a cruel woman.”

“So I'm coming to realise.”

You left the table with a nod in her direction, puzzling away at the interaction and wondering who exactly she could be.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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inklings-sprint · 8 months

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And Time To Sprint Again!

#inklings challenge #inklings sprint #inklings sprints #inklingschallenge #inklings-challenge

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allisonreader · 10 months

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I really need to be going to bed. But what am I busy thinking about? Trying to figure out how to introduce the idea of Inklings Sprints for this year and how I need to revamp my initial write up of it from last year. Debating whether I should make a side blog to run it from. If I should call the side blog Inklings Sprints as I certainly don't want to step on any toes but it is an idea related to the @inklings-challenge by @fictionadventurer . Plus I'm wanting to talk about it early enough that a few potential dates can be set so that people all over are given the chance to maybe try if they so desire.

#all the prep stuff for the Inklings Challenge was making me think about this again #feedback is greatly appreciated and I will write a more detailed post when I'm not fighting sleep #last years post isn't going to cut it #as it's too specific to last year #and you wouldn't believe how nervous about posting this post #just because it's a round about way of asking @fictionadventurer if it's stepping on toes at all TO call it Inklings Sprints #I know that you reblogged it last year but clarification and getting approval is always good

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 5 months

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Curiosity Part 1

Summary: Reader wanders into a sketchy part of the city and curiosity is her greatest temptor.

TW/CW: None that I know of. Reader x Mafia/Vampire!Colby Brock eventually.

Requested?: Nope

A/N: This started as a creative writing prompt and somehow turned into an imagine bc I have nothing but Colby Brock on my brain lately lol.

A/N: Fucking adorable little shit.

Y/N's POV

As the sun sets over the harbor, the lights of the city came on, one by one. I shiver, pulling my thin hoodie tighter around my body. I know it’s stupid of me to be out this late, especially in this part of town, but I need to. It began as a need for fresh air but has since turned into a need for adventure. Everyone around me always said this side of the city was dangerous and I want to see it for myself. As I wander the dimly lit streets, eyes scanning for any signs of danger, I begin to think everyone is being dramatic.

I'm not scared in the slightest. My plan is to take off sprinting toward my apartment at the first inkling that I'm in trouble. I'll be fine, right?

I might have been fine had I not wandered down that one street that led me to that one section of shipping containers that led me to that one alleyway. I jump as a smooth voice speaks from the shadows, “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here?”

I look in the direction of the voice, knowing I should run but curiosity keeps my feet cemented in place. Dropping my face into a disinterested gaze, I respond, “Just getting some air. How ‘bout you?”

From the darkness emerges a tall, blonde man, “You’re brave aren’t you?”

I force myself to stay calm and look into the blue eyes of the stranger before me, “Depends on who you ask,” I shrug.

The stranger tilts his head slightly and grins, “He’s gonna love you,” he mutters to himself but I still catch it. My heart leaps to my throat at the seemingly ever-growing grin on his face as he steps closer, never daring to drop eye contact and I can’t seem to look away either. “You’re coming with me, Princess,” he states before turning to walk back down the alleyway.

My feet follow of their own accord. No matter how hard I try to turn the other way and take off running, my body won’t cooperate. I scan ahead of me, trying to discern where the man may be leading me but all I can see is dingy brick walls and busted trash bags. Finally, he speaks again, “Here we are,” stopping in front of a decrepit door with a rusty “keep out” sign hanging front and center. I try and fail to speak as he knocks a pattern into the wooden door.

Promptly, it swings open revealing another man, this one smiles at me and bows, “Come on in.” As I step across the threshold with Blondie following closely behind, I can’t hide the shocked look on my face, swearing I saw fangs on the man who welcomed us in. Shaking my head I mentally deem it an alternative fashion choice and return my attention to my surroundings. Muffled, bass-filled music can be heard from behind the walls around me. Somehow, my feet seem to know exactly where to take me.

The black walls of the hallway are covered in all kinds of spooky and music-related memorabilia. The plush deep purple carpet is a striking contrast to the darkness of the hall. As I round a corner, the room opens up into a sort of speakeasy. I stop in my tracks as the group at the bar pauses their silly antics and turns to look at me. I can feel the urge to bolt out of the room once again but one of the bar patrons calls out, “Whatcha got here Sam?”

The blonde stranger I met what seems like hours ago steps out from behind me and toward the bar, taking a seat, “Found her wandering around the container yard. Didn’t immediately bolt like the others typically do.”

The previous speaker raises his eyebrows in shock before plastering a big, bright smile across his face. My heart does a quick flutter as he watches me and with a few snickers around the group, it’s almost like they heard it.

He doesn’t speak again for quite some time which allows me to fully take in the group before me. The blonde who had brought me in off the streets, now known as Sam, orders a drink from the bartender before nudging and whispering to the one who had welcomed us in, who laughs heartily before shifting his gaze to the one staring me down. This one looks almost devilish yet so charming in his purple button-up and black leather pants. The chain necklaces he wears brush his exposed collarbone and the rings adorning his hands send naughty thoughts through my mind. I shake my head before taking in his striking blue eyes and dark fluffy hair. These men look nothing like what everyone warned me would be awaiting me on this side of the city.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as the dark-haired man speaks up, “What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

My throat is dry and I struggle to keep my voice steady as I speak up, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Several in the group chuckle including the main speaker who replies, “I would. That’s why I asked.” His voice is deep and velvety smooth. The kind of voice that could rile me up but still talk me to a peaceful sleep as well. There is a hint of mischief in his words and yet he remains gentle.

“That’s for me to know and you not to find out,” I state, sounding braver than I feel. I find myself wanting to melt before this man and I don't even know his name yet. Feigning disinterest once again, I add, “Can someone kindly show me to the exit?”

The man before you looks at Sam with an impressed expression on his face, “Quite brave isn’t she?”

Sam looks at me and shrugs with a smile on his face, “Depends on who you ask,” the call back to before unknown to the others but sticking out clearly to me, “Or at least that’s what she says.”

The other man looks back to me, “Here, I’ll go first. My name is Colby. Your turn,” he motions to me before taking a sip of his drink.

I mentally debate with myself between lying or telling the truth before landing on, “(Y/N).”

Colby tilts his head and grins at me, “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” The door greeter whispers something to Sam which draws Colby’s attention away from me immediately making me want it back. Colby gives the man a disapproving look, “Jake, you know we can hear you, why bother whispering?” Jake simply shrugs.

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, “It’s getting late, I think I’ll be going now.”

In the blink of an eye, Colby is right in front of me tilting my chin up with his thumb and pointer finger to lock eyes with me, “That’s entirely your decision but I think you and I both know you’d rather stay.”

Despite my racing heart, my voice remains disinterested and steady, “What makes you think I wanna stay here in this dingy speakeasy when I could be at home in my warm bed getting some shuteye?”

Colby grins, “Because you’re too damn intrigued to leave now. You haven’t taken your eyes off me since you walked in and don’t think I didn’t notice these pretty lips pout when I looked away from you,” he marks the end of his response by brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.

My heart skips a beat at his actions and the fact he saw right through me makes me want to give in completely. I don't. I step back and turn toward the door instead, “I’ll just see myself out.”

Colby’s hand drops to his side as I hear Jake laugh behind me, “She didn’t deny his statement.” I exit the building successfully despite every bone in my body screaming at me to turn back around and run into his arms. Despite my heart feeling a little heavier, I make my way back to my apartment. As I crawl into bed sometime later, I replay the night’s events in my head. I can’t seem to get Colby out of my head and unbeknownst to me, he can’t shake me from his thoughts either. I promise myself that I won’t go looking for him again but that’s a promise I'll soon break. Curiosity might’ve killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back after all.

Masterlist

More Colby Brock Imagines

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #sam and colby imagines #sam and colby imagine

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goodbye-exclusion · 4 months

Text

xx || masterlist || 01 ->

⋆༺𓆩 00 PROLOGUE 𓆪༻⋆

"Hey, Nami! What's that?" Luffy calls out, leaning over the taffrail.

Nami hums, not bothering to look up from the newspaper. "Hm? What's what?"

"There's land! A biiig island, the size of 10 million Usopp noses. No… 100 million!"

"Hey, what type of measurement is that?" Usopp yells, and Nami is inclined to agree, not having an inkling of how big the island really is.

"It's probably Roguetown," she says dismissively. "Let me take a look anyway." Nami sets her newspaper down before stretching. She blinks a few times to adjust to the bright sun as she steps out from under the parasol.

As she approaches Luffy, she furrows her eyebrows. The island was, as a matter of fact, not Roguetown.

"I don't know," she murmurs.

After retrieving her map and compass, Nami's confusion only grows. It didn't exist on the maps, despite it being a massive continent with its own smaller islands forming an archipelago just south of it.

"We'll stop here," she announces.

[■□□□□□□□□□]

After nearly 4 weeks of travelling, you arrive back at Weh'le. You had ventured far Southeast to collect Vlonqo flowers and Raikkon berries, the main components of the ink mixture you use for tattoos. You refuse to settle for anything less than the perfect ingredients, and that means fresh and ripe berries, so you had already made the ink as you collected them.

Which lets you set off again after a quick half hour of settling everything in place at home, aside from the satchel situated at your hip. You'll be back soon anyway.

After all, with the Spirit Blossom festival coming up in less than a week, you won't have much time to venture off. Of course, you'll have your booth to set up, but you're always glad to help decorate the rest of Weh'le Market for the celebration.

So before you spend the better part of your days with those preparations, you set off to visit two of your dear friends in the forest.

Typically, you're happy to take your trip slowly. Admire the beauty of the magic around you and appreciate the scenery that nature has spent years and years detailing.

This time, though, you're off to see Lillia and Ivern after a month, and you're impatient.

Such a time, however, is short relative to their ages. Lillia is nearly 200 years old (197 this year), and even that is considered rather youthful in comparison to the old forests. And Ivern, the Green Father, is far older, to the point where nearly any amount of time is no longer significant to him. Living for thousands and thousands of years would do that. But all that time never made him jaded. He cared for you as you grew up, and he cares for you now, just as he cares for every other living being.

You can't stop the smile from spreading across your face as you think about them. Your run turns into a strong sprint, eager to see them again.

Past the stony base of the mountain that Weh'le is tucked against, past the river separating the rocky ground from the rich soil, past the hills and through the trees, is the grand forest of Navori. You're a bit out of breath, and the sun is nearing its peak, but you've made it.

Magic flows around you. Sitting on a smooth rock, you close your eyes and bask in the floating magic mixed with the gentle sun dripping through the trees' canopies.

The quiet sound of trotting on soft soil announces Lillia's arrival. You turn your attention towards her with a smile.

And although she's only peeking her head out from behind a tree, you still wave to her. "I'm back!" you greet.

And Lillia thinks you look breathtaking, smiling softly with patches of sunlight draping over you. Her heart floats, thinking about how that smile is just for her.

"I missed you so much, [Name]. Ah, of course w-we all did. The whole, um, the whole forest did!" she adds on quickly.

"I missed you, too," you assure. "Come, sit with me!" You pat next to you on the rock, even though she can't really sit directly with you.

At last, Lillia rounds the tree and makes her way towards you, staff in hand, semi-confident with the knowledge that you might have missed her a fraction of how much she missed you.

She's a fae. Where her legs would usually be is instead the body of a deer. Her fur is a soft tan, growing reddish-brown near her hooves. Instead of human ears, she has somewhat droopy, long ears. Reaching just below them, around the small of her back, is purple tinted magenta hair with an almost glowing blue hue at the tips. Two smaller sections are parted away into pigtails, held together with leafy bands.

"You look lovely as always," you say, and her face reddens.

The purples and blues in her eyes shine at the comment. "Oh m-my, thank you so much!" She giggles nervously, lying down in the grass in front of you, in fear that her legs may give out from excitement.

Without a second thought, you move from your seat on the rock down to the grass next to her.

"Oh, [Name], your clothes will get dirty!" she frets. You chuckle, and she sighs. "I k-know you don't mind at all, but, well, I've heard many humans do. If they were to think poorly of you for it…"

"It's alright, Lillia. Most people are lovely people, I'm not sure anyone would care all that much."

And she can't exactly argue. After all, you're the only human she's ever spoken to. But she's still seen many, many humans come and go in the decades she's spent observing them. If only you knew, she thinks, of all the horrible things humans will do without a care, then you may not think so. In fact, you might decide to come live in the forest with her!

She sighs dreamily at the thought.

"Something on your mind?" you ask.

Lillia shakes her head, but she can't help but smile at the thought of you and her living together. "Not really. So, tell me about your adventures! What kind of things did you see? What kind of humans did you meet?"

You hum thoughtfully. You open your satchel and pull out your journal. It's a relatively new one, but it's already filled to the brim with stories and notes and drawings. Lillia happily adjusts herself next to you to look at everything you've documented in the past few weeks.

You show her several pages dedicated to your experience with an older lady, who had helped you for a day and housed you for a night. She taught you how to make white tea from Xaolan flowers and a delicious toast spread from Kiwa berries. Your tea was nowhere as delicious as hers, but she simply smiled and told you that it was just fine.

I'd be far more impressed had it turned out poorly, she had said. That nature must have seen the idiocy of too many hard headed humans and decided to make it easier on us.

And a few pages held detailed sketches of your experience there. A page for her small cottage. Half of a page for the small plate of toast with Kiwa spread and cup of tea, the other half containing drawings of the berries, flowers, and trees themselves. Then, a full page of her.

An old lady with a bright smile, one she must have worn for many of her days given the crinkles lining her eyes. Her name was Ahn, and when you asked for her age, she chuckled and said to take a guess.

"No older than 30, I would imagine," you said, and she agreed.

"28, actually."

And with that, you decided that it didn't really matter.

You flip the page.

Immediately smiling, you begin to tell Lillia about the tall man you drew sitting in a field. Four patches of flowers were almost perfectly positioned behind, in front, and to the sides of him.

Lillia nearly saw red at how brightly you spoke of him. She glared. Glared at the drawing of the cute little matching flower crowns you made for the two of you. At the fact that you were so enthralled with talking about him that you didn't notice how clearly upset she was. Can't you see how unsettled it makes her? Don't you care?

Look at that man. He had a mask, far from organic, far from nature. His body looked stiff, like the limbs of a puppet. Don't you like nature? Don't you like her?

"He was so kind," you say. "For a while on my journey, I felt followed, like a creepy force always behind me. We happened to meet on my way back, and he travelled with me for a few days."

She could make you feel safe, too. Does she seem too weak?

In the midst of her silent rage and your distracted rambling, a light voice interrupts both of your thoughts.

"My children!"

The two of you snap out of your own minds.

"Ivern!" you greet.

His long, thin legs fold beneath him as he takes a place next to the two of you in the grass.

"I trust you've been safe in your ventures," he says, and you nod eagerly.

"I was! How have you been?"

"I've kept well. I know you must be in a hurry with the Spirit Blossom Festival preparations. Go, child, we can gossip later!"

The two of you share a giggle before you depart, saying your farewells to the two.

When you're out of range, Ivern turns to Lillia, frowning.

"My child, do you wish to talk about it?"

Lillia stomps one of her hooves and scowls. "You sent them away! You're going to make them leave me for good!" she accuses.

The elder simply shakes his head and sighs. "Perhaps one day you'll grow up."

Shivers run down Lillia's spine. She's not a child anymore. You're the only one who takes her seriously. You're the only one who truly cares.

[■■■■■■■□□]

The sun that once burned at Nami's eyes and skin seems like a dream now.

Instead, a thick fog wraps around the Going Merry. It feels heavy, spreading across the ship's deck. Nami's compass is circling aimlessly, spinning almost as much as her head is.

Usopp and Luffy's babbling doesn't help, either.

Nami rubs her temples as Sanji tries to get the two to quiet down, but ends up yelling, too, out of frustration.

Zoro sighs, regrettably getting up from his nap. "Quit freakn' out already, there's land right behind us," he calls.

"Behind us? When did we get so turned around… And just how far have we gone?" Nami murmurs to herself.

But she finds that, sure enough, there's a glimpse of a port not too far away. The docks poke through, as if inviting them. It's the only direction the fog lightens up—or rather, the fog feels like it's purposefully blocking out everything else, leading them where it wants them to go.

Luffy is thrilled, bouncing and pointing at the newfound sight of land. "We're not lost!" he cheers.

But Nami can't shake this bad feeling that twists her gut.

#one piece x reader #league of legends x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #nami x reader #lillia x reader #sanji x reader #usopp x reader

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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hear me out, goo with a s/o that loves to bake. his house is always full of sweets he isnt going to eat (until they start adjusting recipes so it suits his diet) and every time he tries to given them his card to buy something nice like expensive clothes or a new phones, they end up sprinting right to the nearest grocery store for oat flour because they had none left to make macarons....its just so silly i cant not

Anon this IS cute! Here's a silly little scene on trying to feed Goo. Sorry for the delay and sorry that this fic barely even touches what you requested. It's a.. special skill of mine, sorry!!

Goo Kim x Reader: Brownies for your boyfriend

No braincells left, brain fully rotten

"Babe you don't look like this," Goo points at his body, "by eating all of that."

And even though you say it's fine, you can just hand out the tray of brownies you baked to friends and family, Goo feels an inkling of guilt.

He hates it. He hates this goddamn pesky conscience.

"One can't hurt..." he reasons, plucking a brownie from the baking tray.

"Wait, no-!"

"SHIT!" he passes it from hand to hand; the fresh from oven, almost molten brownie moving in a blur.

It doesn't help, close to burning his skin.

Not cooling down anywhere near quick enough; the brownie falls, with a SPLAT, on to the floor.

"Guess it's just not meant to be," your boyfriend scoops it into a bin as you roll your eyes fondly.

"What about these?" you say, holding out a slice to him.

Goo eyes it with suspicion. "More brownies?"

"They're made with black beans, so it's healthier and more filling-" Goo wrinkles his nose at that. Black bean brownies? Blehhh. "and I added extra protein powder for your training too."

Ew.

It sounds revolting. Who likes protein powder for the taste. You're trying to poison him. Leave behind a beautiful corpse and run away with his riches.

"You're trying to poison me!"

"Just. Try a bite."

"Nope."

"C'mon," and you hold it up, smushing it into his mouth, trying to force a nibble.

Goo shakes his head vigorously, lips sealed together. Not even a stray crumb can enter.

"One bite and I'll stop."

He holds up one finger. You nod.

"Fine."

He takes a sniff first, if there's even a whiff of black bean then he's gone.

It smells... fine. Delicious, actually.

Tentatively, he cranes his neck forward, pauses with it against his mouth and takes a nibble. It's a few crumbs at best.

"An actual bite!" and you shove half of it in.

Goo is furious, cheeks stuffed and about to spit it out... Then he chews.

And chews and chews.

Huh.

There's no black bean taste. There's no weird protein powder. It's just sweet and indulgent and chocolatey. The perfect kind of moist on the inside and a slight crisp on the edges.

"Good?" you ask, once he swallows.

Goo nods eagerly and reaches for seconds.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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zombiepuke · 1 year

Text

never.

ellie accidentally scares you. you leave. probably not the best idea you've had.

I hope y'all enjoy this!!!!! Lots of good stuff yknow getting dragged across the floor, threatened to be killed, yadda yadda (also ellie deals with some emotion heyyyyyy)

18+, wlw oneshot

word count: 5,992 (goddamn)

You knew she hadn’t meant to hurt you. You knew it had just been an accident, a slip of her claw against your throat that just so happened to be a little too deep, a little too bloody, a little too close.

She hadn’t meant it, really.

But fight or flight was a strong instinct. Your gut reaction was to run, and that you did. It hadn’t been merely fifteen seconds after the slice of her nail to your neck, the thin red line of your blood down your frontside, and your eyes went wide, glazed in animalistic fear, lip trembling in a quiet sob, your hands shaking, grabbing your phone and your keys and barreling out of the front door, leaving Ellie behind without even a glance backwards towards her. Of course, if it had been anyone else, she would have pounced, snarling, sinking gray teeth into their shoulder to bring them down like a lioness would a buffalo, for even daring to attempt to run from her.

But the only thing Ellie could fathom was how much she really didn’t want to see how your hand grasped at the bleeding wound she had inflicted, that fear in your eyes directed towards her, ever again.

Demons weren’t hardwired to feel remorse, or regret, or anything other than hatred, bloodlust. Any remnant of the woman she was, had been crushed into sawdust, thrown to the wind to be forgotten and forced down by time. Ellie could remember faint inklings of what guilt felt like deep in her soul, so riddled with disease and suffering it was difficult for her to recognize, but it was there - regret of a single mother that had been etched into her DNA, something not even the Necronomicon could take away or replace altogether. And that feeling, that sharp twinge of fuck what have I done I fucked it all up for good this time was an insistent voice gnawing in the back of her fucked up brain.

Needless to say, it was at moments like these where the ancient evil realized it was indeed quite sweet on you.

—

You weren’t really sure why you had run so quickly out of her apartment, weren’t familiar with the surge of explicit fear that had ravaged your body when she had, albeit accidentally, wounded you. You had never run from her before, not even upon your first meeting her, that sudden run-in after exploring the abandoned building and your curiosity had almost gotten you slaughtered. But at this moment your lizard-brain had decided to feel terror, and fight or flight had unanimously chosen flight.

Now, you just felt silly, the gash in your neck was much less a gash and more akin to a scratch that your cat would make; yes, Ellie had drawn blood but, considering her unique nature, was that really so out of the ordinary for her? The blood had stopped flowing nearly as soon as it had begun, and now you were halfway to your own apartment, white-knuckling your steering wheel and you wanted to literally die of embarrassment. Not only that, your mind refocused on poor Ellie, how awful did that make her feel? You sprinting out of her home, terrified over… what, exactly? Seriously, what the fuck?

The incident, although from the outside looking in, seemed very petty and minute, raised a relatively serious question about the nature of your relationship with Ellie - you two couldn’t have been more different, and sometimes the question of your compatibility for lack of a better term, arose. This only added to the equation - were you and Ellie truly too different from one another to even begin to try? The very thought in your head of never seeing her again made your stomach twist in nausea.

With an exasperated sigh you decided to continue to go home, now too embarrassed to face her and try to, probably badly, explain what just happened. She was an ancient demon, of course she wasn’t going to understand some dumb human’s flighty behavior, how sometimes things that didn’t bother you suddenly did bother you, how anxiety worked, all those boring human things that you just tried to keep to yourself. Being around Ellie could be difficult, to say the least - you weren’t exactly sure how much humanity the woman still had left, you weren’t sure how she would react to.. anything, really. Apparently, demons had good days and bad, just like people - sometimes Ellie was an absolute pleasure to be around, funny, playfully mean, even gentle and sweet at times. But other times, she was cruel, angry, sharp to the touch. On those days, you figured she was just hungry, or maybe something else. You knew she could get upset, could see it in how her head would jerk, her body twitched, her eyes glowed. Maybe, on those days, when Ellie was a little snappier than usual, a little more harsh, there was something human bubbling up inside of her, maybe she was trying to piece together the person she once was. Maybe existing in this world as something so old you couldn’t fathom, so divine in its own sick right, so otherworldly - maybe it hurt. Was Ellie in pain herself? Did her body ache, after so long of being used as a puppet, her arms and legs twisted and retwisted back together, stagnant scars weeping across her joints where she was first taken by the book? Was she burning? You didn’t like to keep those questions around.

Being close to, and especially sleeping with a thousands-of-years-old monster disguised as a pretty single mother was not something anyone had written a self-help manual about. It’s not like you could just hop onto the internet and google search my zombified demon girlfriend just drew blood while scratching me, should I be concerned she’s going to actually turn on me and eat me, or are my feelings totally invalid right now? and get hundreds of hits from Cosmo articles and women’s advice blogs.

You really were quite alone with this problem.

So you decided to stay home for the next two weeks, because your idea of facing a problem was more like doing the complete opposite and ignoring said problem until it disappeared. You at least attempted to live your normal routine, but you quickly found out Ellie had been your routine. You didn’t know what to feel, terrified Ellie was angry with you for leaving, terrified you broke her.. heart? The Deadite version of a heart? She hadn’t shown up or made herself known at all, no demon-related hallucinations of blood filling the bathtub or dead birds on your doorstep or even excess bugs in your home. Nothing. Regardless, you were too much of an anxious wimp to face her, to drive back to the apartment building on the corner on the far side of town, to simply take the broken elevator (broken for anyone but you) and burst through her front door and grab her shadowy face in your palms and kiss her like you’d never kissed her before, some attempt at an apology for running out on her in the first place.

You had thoroughly known Ellie was a monster when you first started becoming interested in her. You had known of her violent ways, of her summoning and chaotic nature, and in spite of that, because of that, you stayed by her side completely, a silent promise to her that you would never be pried away from her, not even if your human instincts kicked in. But here you were, alone, sinking into your unmade depression bed at near three in the morning, wallowing in self-pity for breaking your word to Ellie, for running, for not going back.

Despite feeling sorry for yourself, your feelings for the woman held fast, and soon enough you found yourself missing her terribly; you missed her fucked up jokes, that lingering scent of iron and rot and smoke that always dripped from the air, how there always seemed to be blood trickling from beneath her door, the stupid busted elevator and the stupid busted stairs and her stupid pretty face and her stupid pretty voice–

You probably broke ten different traffic laws just in your frantic drive from your apartment to hers.

You weren’t really sure what to expect when you got there - you decided to knock on her door rather than just barge in like you typically did, as you weren’t sure you’d even be welcome in her home anymore at this point - no idea of how an offended Ellie would react. Your thoughts of anxiety, nervousness that she no longer wanted anything to do with you, or that you may even be met with your blood-soaked end as soon as she realized you were here, were broken in place by the front door slowly creaking open by itself, controlled by Ellie, who was nowhere to be found in the front hallway of her apartment. There was this shrill cold in the air, blistering and dull, and it reminded you exactly of how it felt when you first met her, freezing, dark, empty.

But alongside that chill there was a familiarity, a sense of being called home as the door opened just for you, and you knew, then, she was the one beckoning you back to her, back to where you belonged. God, how you missed her.

You finally found her in the bathtub, filled with water, there was no telling how long she’d been cooped up in there; the water had long gone freezing cold, dark with the seepage that always flowed from her nostrils, her eyes, ears. It shook and splashed over the edge as she craned her body towards you, acknowledging your presence with a flash of bright eyes, clawed fingertips clutching the side of the porcelain tub and she stayed still for a moment, peering over at you standing helplessly small in the archway of the bathroom. Her scent was the strongest here, orange spice and rot, a smell you had come to want to delve yourself into at all times, save you were ever not near her for more than a few moments. You felt unbelievably tiny and minuscule at that moment; Ellie rose to her full staggering height, bones snapping into place, inhuman arching and joints popping and you could hear her spine creaking as her legs propelled her upright, water sloshing over and spilling onto the tattered old bathmat and she was petrifying, horror incarnate, death bubbling up as she stood, towering. Her worn-out button-down soaked through, clinging to her lithe body, translucent in places and you could see fragments of her ages old tattoos under the drenched fabric. Dull red hair flowed over her thin shoulders and her neck was gashed open and graying, her eyes boring into yours, some lifeless shade of diluted red-milk, filled to the brim with an emotion you weren’t quite sure how to interpret - anger, demonic rage at your leaving, but something sincere, a monster’s version of sparkling happiness that you had come back? You really couldn’t tell but the hairs on the back of your neck were alight and standing on end.

“Ellie, I,” the frightened squeak in your voice made you want to kick yourself, last thing she needed to know of was your fear at that moment. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to stay gone for so long–”

The sentence you attempted to utter out was viciously interrupted by Ellie suddenly falling down onto all fours, sending water flying across the room, hitting you in the face and she was crawling out of the tub, straight to you - an animal, an apex predator with its sight still as day right on your middle. Ellie’s movements were jerking, swaying, not complete movements but in pieces, her human facade barely clinging on to her. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, run from her and she grabbed onto your lower legs, nails digging painfully into your exposed skin, leaving tiny impressions of her claws as she clambered her way up to your face. Every part of your body she grabbed onto in her way up was set alight in a blaze and you felt her manipulating you back to her, you don’t need anyone else but me, stupid girl. You’re nothing without me. Nothing.

Her breath was sweet and hot panted right onto your face, her black hands wrapped around your temples, her eyes fiery and you felt your knees going weak as she lolled her tongue out, laving it across your cheeks in long swipes, leaving gray saliva dripping down your face, grunting and whimpering and her body shaking. She was licking you like you were her long-gone owner and she was some fucked up mutt, some hellhound sent to tear your soul down into the bowels of the earth. Maybe she was, and you found yourself not giving a shit, as long as she kept holding onto you the way she was.

You stumbled backwards, cautiously letting your own hands move to her hair, threading your fingers in the tangled locks there and you felt her body tense, freeze up for a split moment - and then she was violently shoving you down to the floor, your back slamming into the hardwood. You let out a shocked yelp on impact, and Ellie laughed meanly, both of her strong arms flying down on either side of your head, bracketing you in. The gold, tarnished jewelry around her neck dangled down onto your face, the cold chain scraping your cheek, your heart nearly breaking your ribcage in fear, in something else.

Heat and wet pooled in between your thighs at the sight and weight of her on top of you, and Ellie reacted as immediately as she understood - her nose was unlike anything in the entire animal kingdom, the scent of you heavy on her nostrils and her eyes turned near black, her body shaking with deep accusing laughter.

“I can smell how wet your cunt is, you filthy thing. Do you like that, sweetheart? When I push you around?”

Your throat was dry, your fingers scrambling for purchase against the floor. She was terrifyingly beautiful, necromancer of the sick feeling that bubbled in your spine when you were around her, your soul surely tainted and worn thin by her and you wanted it all more than anything you’d ever wanted before, wanted her more than you could muster.

“I’ll teach you to ever try to leave me again, you stinking slut. I’ll tear you to shreds if you ever think you can walk out like that again and I’ll leave you alive to feel it all.” She was roaring at that point, shrill shrieks vibrating your spinal cord, making your ears feel like a knife had been dug in and spun about, the entire apartment building seeming to shake in her wrath.

Tears of fright, of want, of building excitement boiled in your eyes, dripping down your face and Ellie leaned forward to lap at them, each touch of her tongue followed by a sweet kiss, direct contrast to her evil words she barked at you. You sniffled and nodded pitifully in understanding, unable to get any words to leave your trembling mouth.

Then she was literally dragging you, flipped over onto your belly like a shot deer, ankles in her inhuman grasp, across the floor. You inadvertently screamed out, her strength and the sharp tug of your very human, very fragile body across the wooden floor and over the area rugs decorating the apartment more than uncomfortable, to say the least. You could hear the demon’s growling and chittering mixed in with your noises of pain as you got dragged backwards by your feet into the living room, her nails drawing blood around your ankles and rug burn covering your frontside where your shirt had lifted. Your mind was in a hundred different places, instinctive human fear spreading through your nervous system but there was a more overpowering sense of arousal at Ellie’s blatant violence, her uncaring attitude and the forceful way she had pulled you from the bathroom to quite literally throw you onto the threadbare couch with a quiet grunt from your throat.

“You’re mine. You and that vile, spoiled cunt of yours. You are mine, and you always will be,” she snapped her teeth in exasperation. Her words were misshapen, the syllables off ever so slightly, giving away how far she truly was from any semblance of human anymore, the letters stripped to their raw sounds and you could see Ellie’s building frustration in her inability to speak fluidly. In that moment, you splayed atop of the sofa, her kneeling in front of you, hands clutching both of your knees, there was a flash of pain in her gaze, a worry that was almost not so alien - something you yourself could recognize. A silent plea that you really were here, and you weren’t going to leave again, and god it had been so long since she had felt any humanity left in her but alas, there were remnants - and she felt those remnants when she looked at you. No kandarian curse could ever take you away.

Ellie couldn’t apologize to you. But she could make it up to you in so many other, better, ways. And for you, that was okay.

Pulling herself up to meet your eye level, her face centimeters from your own, she kissed you - and it was as if the world outside went black, the switch turned off, no noise, no sight, nothing. Suddenly you remembered exactly why you kept coming back here, to this condemned place, to this literal evil, letting it take you over and over, and it was her - you wanted to touch her and trail your fingers through her hair and over her pretty shoulders, down her back and press your lips to every piece of her body and make her shudder your name but you held yourself back, for now. Let yourself be ravaged by this beast because you had an understanding of that is what Ellie needed, then - was for you to lie still and let yourself be worshiped by this repulsive god, to let her remind herself that yes, you were hers and no, you weren’t going to leave her ever again. This was your apology to her.

“I should bite you, here,” a sharp claw caressed the bob of your throat, the exact place where only a handful of days ago she had accidentally scratched, as she pulled away from your lips, tickling the frail skin there. Her face was slightly shrouded by the darkness in the living room, moonlight casting eerie shadows across her angular face. Her eyes were literally glowing, worked up, angry, aroused.

“Bite you, drain all of your blood out, hm? Let you flop in it like a dying fish. I could. So easy. Like biting through but-ter.” a soft, warbled chuckle that went straight to your soaked pussy. Her brow arched.

“I could just drink you down. ‘Til you’re nothing. Nothing but a dried up corpse. I just want a little taste, baby girl.” you sighed raggedly, her body pressing forward into yours until she was draped over you, her mouth directly next to your face. You could feel her breath against the shell of your ear as she spoke.

“Won’t you let me have a taste, sweetheart?”

The vertebrae in your neck popped with how quickly you nodded your head, exhaling hard, involuntarily leaning back into the worn couch, opening yourself up to her - and isn’t that what you always did? No matter what the woman did, no matter how much blood was spilled, how many bodies lay in her wake, you were there, willingly by her side. Internally, you were no less evil than Ellie - in fact, moreso. At least Ellie was more akin to an instinctive predator than a soft-willed human like yourself.

That internal monologue was quickly chased away by Ellie’s nose, pointed and probing, starting at the underside of your chin and following a hot trail down your frontside. The curve of your throat, dipping into the indent of your chest plate hitting your collarbones, down in-between your nipples - she paused there, moving her head side to side to leave a wet press of her lips to both areola - sniffing down, through the valley of your ribcage, the line of your belly, tonguing your navel. Nipping at your lower stomach pudge, she panted and huffed like a foxhound on a scent, chattering her teeth and her hands were following shortly behind her nose, running her palms down your arms by your sides, flowing down your hips and settling in-between your legs, claws biting at your inner thighs. You watched helplessly as her powerful body moved with her, arching backwards so she had enough room to pry herself between your knees, once again taking her place knelt before you. It was some type of magic, seeing such a being as Ellie knelt in front of you, but you knew - you absolutely were not, never, in charge here. Her eyes fluttered, long lashes battering, her expression near soft and giving as her nose ended its pursuit and landed right at the apex of your thighs - pressed right at the ridge of your clothed cunt, she took a long drag of an inhale of your scent, eyes rolling. Ellie stared up at you like a wolf, bloodshot eyes unblinking and arrow-sharp right into your own. You could do nothing but simply stare back.

In a whirlwind of movement, Ellie maneuvered her way closer to you, using a clawed finger to virtually rip your shorts and underwear off in one fell swoop, the sound of the fabric pulling and tearing hitting your ears before a whoosh of cold air hit your now exposed skin. Your head went back against the arm of the couch and you gasped harshly as she took no time, no teasing, no soft caresses or build-up - her mouth dropped open and went forward, taking the entirety of your cunt in, nose pressed to your mound and her tongue opening you up to her, one long, hard sucking pull of your flesh. Trembling legs were weighted down by Ellie’s large palms, keeping you still and in place to accept all of her intrusion; she was rough, careless in her treatment of your pussy, biting and slurping as hard as you could handle, obscene noises and your startled cry of pleasure enticing her to go harder, faster. She was lulling you into another dimension, another universe where it was only her and you, her tiny human pet, for all of eternity.

Stars twinkled behind your eyelids, white hot and yellow shrapnel; the demon’s mouth was unlike anything you’d ever felt, somehow blazing hot and numbing cold at the same time. It was like your body was set ablaze under a glacier of ice, spiraling, falling into some deep dark unknown, only for her to grab you back into her embrace, holding you tightly to her chest. She would let you fall but never allow you to break, not altogether anyways, piecing you back with every dig of her nails, every swipe of her black tongue against your exposed clitoris.

You gained enough confidence to crane your head down to see how she was latched onto your core, nose flaring as you saw that she was already looking directly at your face, all half-lidded eyes and drawn in cheeks and hair tousled around her pretty face, hands gripping your outer thighs, thumbs moving in slow, dangerous circles there. You wished you could imprint that image of Ellie between your legs forever, burn it into your retinas to witness again, and again, and again. Ellie may have been ancient, disgusting, a bundle of pure chaos, but to you, she was the most perfect being you could ever conjure up in your diseased reality.

“Oh god, Ellie–fuck, please, more, more,” you begged, voice splintered. A thin smirk quirked up the corner of her mouth; she shook her mighty head back and forth, purposefully slow as to keep you as on edge as possible - she never gave you outright what you wanted, no - you had to plead with your life to get anywhere near what you truly desired. It was her sick, twisted little game, and you either played, or got nothing, and you couldn’t handle having nothing from her.

“You only get what I choose to give you, slut. Look at you, begging for more like a starved animal,” Ellie’s voice telepathically rattled in your brain, bouncing off every neuron, alighting every nerve rushing down to even your fingertips, her mouth never stopping its onslaught of your cunt. Bits and pieces of her words were unintelligible to you, spoken so sweetly in some language you didn’t know, something as old as the solar system itself; a demonic, otherworldly font, known only by those possessed, transcribed on the very pages that brought her here. The mix of this unknown jargon that seemed to come from every corner of the room at the same instant, had your ears throbbing, spliced in with her words of fucked up sweet nothings - tied together with the beat of her tongue across your clit, lips suckling at your dripping folds; you tensed, hardly able to breathe through it all, the chanting of obscenities blossoming into praise, and with one final swipe of her mouth between your thighs you were coming, hips stuttering and pushing against her face, pieces of her name between your lips. She drank it all down, swallowed you up, sucking til you were near crying, your hands desperately attempting to push her face away to no avail; she would continue as she damn well pleased, only stopping until she’d had her fill of you.

But oh, she wasn't done with you quite yet.

Pulling back from you spit-slick core, your own wetness and saliva leaving a thin line from her lower lip to your flesh, Ellie’s eyes glowed under the darkening light in her apartment, a slow sultry journey up your body once more, stopping to bite here and there, a kiss or two at your abdomen. Your head lolled back in exhaustion.

“Mine, mine, all mine. Always mine.” mumbling to herself, half spoken, half conjured in your mind. “Not finished making you mine, little thing.”

With that, you were being grabbed, hoisted upwards into a sitting position, knees pressed to the couch cushion and your arms out in front of you, hands forcefully moved to hang on to the armrest before you. You hadn’t even the time to recuperate, still your pounding heart from your previous orgasm and here she was, bending you into some other form to do god knows what to you. But you were pliant, willing, happily allowing her to mold you into whatever she wanted, because this is what she wanted, needed, of you - relinquish your control to her, and she would be your lifelong protector, partner, a twisted facsimile of a best friend.

“There you go. My good girl. So ready for me,” her voice so sweet, contrasting how absolutely terrifying she truly was; a large hand enveloped your chin, turning your head to the side so she could swathe her lips across your cheek, reaching your mouth to kiss you as if you’d disappear into thin air if she didn’t. Her mouth was still wet from your pussy, your salty taste lingering on her gray lips. The room spun in your cloudy vision as she released you, urging your body up a tad, just enough for her to slip down behind you, sliding beneath your raised hips - the upper portion of her face visible beyond the softness of your belly as you shifted your gaze downward, her crimson hair a halo around her shining eyes.

You involuntarily flopped forward, arms quivering, hands grasping at the fabric of the armrest as Ellie snaked her own arms around your upper thighs, efficiently anchoring you down, her strength frighteningly more than your own as you flexed and realized you genuinely could not move an inch from where she wanted you. Anticipation boiled your spinal cord and she yanked you down, like a cinder block in lakewater, delivering your cunt right to her open mouth.

“Ffffuck, Ellie, ohmygod,” rough pants and whines slipped from your tongue as hers was winding up inside of you, licking deeper than she had been, as gravity opened you further - alighting nerves you weren’t aware you had, your clit swooning over the tip of her nose.

“I am God. Only me. Only me. Only me.” archaic, deep chanting in-between laps at your pearl, eyes igniting with some sinister brine, you had no choice but to sit there and take all she gave you, the drawing of your folds into her freezing mouth and swirls of her pitch-dark tongue over, across, back to back on your most nerve-filled, overly-sensitive spot. You knew Ellie enjoyed pushing you to the absolute edge, testing your human limitations and picking you apart, lick by lick, until you were crying, screaming, babbling her name and bygone texts she had imprinted in your soul. Head thrown to the heavens, pleading, practicing dark prayers to whatever fucked-beyond-belief god that would listen - and it was her whose ears your shaky words fell upon.

But through it all, despite the iron grip across your thighs, she allowed you one small victory; grinding your hips across her face, fucking her tongue exactly where you needed it most. She ate you down as roughly as asphalt because she needed to stitch your taste upon her mouth, regardless of the festering demon she needed to know you were hers, in every sense - only she could make you feel this good, only she could take you like this. Had you actually left for good, it very well might have been the end for Ellie, or at least, any semblance of Ellie that remained. Hell itself may have come and swallowed her back down, just as she was swallowing your cunt.

Your eyes transfixed themselves back down upon her, sweat beading along your hairline, your hips aching with every thrust forward but it wasn’t enough. Obsidian blood vessels deepened across Ellie’s neck, shoulders, cheeks - you were hotly aware of your second orgasm inching closer in your abdomen, and so was she; she could feel every molecule of your body, alight with dopamine, and it was as if she could feel when you came as much as you could. Somehow you were both connected, a dull red string from her to you, in every sense. When Ellie fucked you she planted little shards of herself deep within, tiny jet-black crumbs of kandarian evil sprouted in the marrow of your bones, the pulses of your heart. When Ellie made you hers, she was truly remodeling the very innards of who you were - and you went down with no fight.

“You won’t ever leave me again. You are nothing without me.” the whispered voice in your head was angry, a quiet rage, a fury she kept with her at all times, waiting to be unleashed, always teetering on the edge.

Ellie’s body was trembling underneath you, taught with pent-up desire to give you everything she had, to keep you as close as physically possible, her legs drawn up, bent at the knee - your own hands swayed backwards to grasp onto her kneecaps, using her legs as a brace to thrust your lower body harder, faster against her face. Her nails scraped harder over your thighs in approval at your touch. You were a mess, panting, drooling, unable to form articulate sentences without blabbering.

“Ellie, please, that’s so fucking good I’mgonnacome–”

Upon your announcement you felt her smile lewdly, focusing her entire mouth solely on your clitoris, alternating between harsh pulls with her teeth and softer sucks against it, humming praise through her throat, the vibrations shuddering through your entire body. Your eyes were white, rolled back like marbles and you fell forward, hands flying to her hair - your body wanting to keep her where she was, that perfect spot, holding her face in place and red locks tangled in your shaking fingertips. This time, she didn’t reprimand you for moving her where you needed her; her repeating chant of mine mine mine mine never escaping the turntable in your ears.

Huffing and whimpering your way through the throes of your climax, Ellie’s mouth still molded perfectly to your cunt, slurping and open-mouthed kissing you through it, a literal supernova of light ricocheted up and down your back, sending sparks to your fingers, your toes, directly into your bloodstream - fire and ash and pure energy balled up in your throat and you could feel your legs buckling and your hips churning but weren’t aware of it in that moment. Only the sharp pang of bliss that barreled through your body, and the woman beneath you that was responsible for it. Ellie’s cruel laughter echoed through your skull, only egging on the process and you eventually rode it out, and slumped forward with a pained, overspent noise.

Exhaustion overtook your senses, your body unraveled and thoroughly used, your legs cramping and fatigued. Cold hands helped you move so that you were on your back on the couch looking up, and all you saw was her, face drenched in you and her eyes were luminous, gleaming rays of blacklight and her expression was softened a bit from earlier. There wasn’t that harsh spiral of fury at the front of her eyes; it had since been tucked away for later, and now she allowed you to finally breathe, to finally relax.

“Don’t leave again. I won’t have it,”

There was a scarce sincerity in Ellie’s face, her features blurred and gentle by the moonlight that was soaking the living room, dancing shadows and ghosts alight in the backdrop of where you both sat. She was so beautiful, delicate-looking, even; high cheekbones and sharp, attentive eyes. You sat up to rest on your elbows, mesmerized with how the panes of light illuminated her hair, the indents of the knuckles across her long hands as she wrapped them around your face, cold palms shaking with an inhuman flutter. For a split second, she was human again, pleading with her lover to stay, please don’t leave me. I have nothing, I have no one without you. Stay.

One of your own hands came up to rest against hers, clutching it tightly, the bones beneath her thin skin poking through like spider’s legs. You shook your head no, I will never leave you ever again, I promise and that promise was final, eternal. Longer than a lifetime you had sold your soul over to her, given it willingly. She could bite and tear and rip you limb from limb but in your sick mind it was her way of loving you, of adoring you, devoting her soulless heart to you and you could do nothing but accept it. Wanted nothing but her, regardless, because of, what she was.

“Never, Ellie, I promise I’ll never leave. I promise. I’m so sorry, please, forgive me–”

But she shushed you, gently, as a mother would her weeping child. Swept you up in a tight embrace, her arms cradling you around your back, palms flat against your shoulder blades. Her nose nuzzled into your neck, tickling the skin there, and you welcomed her in entirely, pressing forward against her, never close enough. Despite this sudden display of gentleness, you could still feel her claws against your back, pressing just hard enough for you to purposefully feel them. You could still hear her growling, not directly from her throat, but embedded in the very cells of your brain, a dangerous warning.

Leave again, sweetheart, and I’ll decorate this apartment with everything that is inside of you.

#evil dead #evil dead rise #ellie evil dead #alyssa sutherland #reblogs are defintiely appreciated!#maggot mommy

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