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rubysunnday · 3 years

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crashing down

Summary: When a heist goes horribly wrong, Jesper and Y/N are trapped underneath the rubble.

`A/N: looks like i’m writing for my murder children now. I have zero regrets

Jesper Fahey x platonic!reader

In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have hung around to steal the brooch. And they probably shouldn’t have even decided to rob the place in the first instance but, hey, when someone brags about the treasures they own and tell you exactly where in their tiny, second house they were hidden, they were practically asking you to steal them.

And besides, Jesper loved a good old fashioned shoot out too much to simply run away from one. And Y/N loved her friend too much to leave him to fight on his own.

Jesper ducked behind the pillar as another bullet whizzed past his head, imbedding itself in the wall behind Y/N.

“I’m blaming you entirely, Jesper,” Y/N muttered, handing him a load pistol in exchange for his empty one. “It was your idea.”

“You’re the one who spotted the damn thing,” Jesper replied, leaning around the pillar and firing three shots, all hitting their targets. “You’re like a bloody magpie.”

“Just because I went ‘ooo, shiny item,’ doesn’t mean you have to steal it!” Y/N hissed. “Now, because of you, Kaz is probably wondering where we are and will likely murder both of us for ruining the plan.”

Something exploded from outside, the orange flames lighting up the corridor as they billowed into the sky. The men attacking them all yelled as they realised that Y/N and Jesper weren’t alone in the building. More footsteps echoed on the stairs in front of them as the rest of the guards ran outside to see what was happening.

Jesper and Y/N shared a look. “Wylan.”

“Well, good to know that part of the plan is going to... well, plan,” Y/N replied. She looked down at the pouch of bullets she had and swore. It was empty. “Jesper,” Y/N said, hitting his leg to attract his attention, “Jesper, we’re out.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah.” Y/N threw the pouch and looked at him. “What do we do? There’s no way we’re getting out of here with them blocking the door.”

As if proving her point, the guards began shooting again. The hail of bullets pinged around them and Y/N dove into Jesper, both of them ducking down and shielding the other. The bullets stopped for a second and Jesper moved quickly, grabbing his pistols and putting them back in their holster and yanking Y/N to her feet, pulling her around the corner and towards the back of the building.

Y/N gripped Jesper’s hand tightly as they ran down the corridor and into a side room full of crates. Jesper slammed the door shut behind them and shoved a crate up against it to block anyone trying to break in.

There was a small window high up on the wall with metal bars running across it, far too small for either one of them to be able to squeeze through.

“What plan is this? Run and hide?” Y/N exclaimed as Jesper began ripping open crates.

“Yes but hiding in the room that, hopefully, has bullets,” He muttered, tossing the paper that was protecting the contents out the crate dramatically. “HA!”

Y/N turned around and saw Jesper brandishing an open box of bullets with a huge grin on his face. She felt herself smiling too, despite the life threatening situation they were currently in.

Jesper gently handed one of his treasured pistols to Y/N, his eyes staring at her intently. She gently took the handle of it and looked up at Jesper, looking into his eyes.

“I know,” she said, nodding as she moved the pistol to her other hand and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “I know.”

It was likely the next few minutes would be their last. They were outnumbered and on their own with limited gunfire. Even if by some saintforsaken chance Inej or Nina or even Matthias turned up to rescue them, they’d probably both be riddled with bullet holes before they got to them.

“No mourners,” Jesper said softly as he let go of Y/N’s hand and spun his pistol around his finger.

“No funerals,” she replied, gripping the handle of her pistol tightly.

Jesper pushed the crate blocking the door out of the way and swung open the door, pistol drawn.

No one was waiting for them.

Y/N matched Jesper’s frown and slowly stepped out into the corridor behind him suspicious. There was a good quiet and then there was a bad quiet.

And this was a bad quiet.

“Where -”

Y/N’s question was cut off as a large explosion rocked the entire building. She reached out and grabbed Jesper’s arm as she lost her balance and Jesper steadied her as best he could. Dust and chunks of plaster rained down around them and several paintings and expensive vases smashed onto the floor.

“That wasn’t Wylan!” Y/N exclaimed as the building stopped shaking for a moment.

“Come on!” Jesper yelled, grabbing Y/N’s hand and pulling her down the corridor towards their exit.

Something was wrong, the entire building was empty and there was no one around. Jesper and Y/N skidded around the corner and spied the door that was their exit and put on a sudden burst of speed.

The door suddenly blew in, a cloud of dust following after it. The explosion threw Jesper and Y/N back into a wall. Y/N felt her head smack the wall and suddenly everything felt odd.

She opened her eyes and saw Jesper yelling at her but couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were ringing and everything felt distorted - like she’d had too many Kerch whiskeys. Jesper pulled her to her feet and she stumbled into him, her legs wobbling and shaking and unable to support her weight. Before either one of them could hobble out the door, another explosion occurred and the entire building began to crumble down around them.

Windows smashed, beams came crashing down and pipes burst as the building collapsed in on itself.

Y/N vaguely registered Jesper wrap his arms around her and pull her down to the ground as the building buried them alive.

Kaz checked his pocket watch again. “They’re late.”

“Yes, but Jesper’s always late,” Nina replied, trying to hide her nerves. She’d been frantically looking to the street near the house every second, waiting and hoping for Y/N’s figure to come running up to them, a flustered and excited Jesper chasing after her.

“Not when he’s with Y/N,” Inej muttered, looking behind her at the building they’d escaped from.

Kaz looked down at his watch and then up at the house again. He wasn’t about to betray just how nervous and concerned he was. But it wasn’t usual for Y/N to be running late - even if Jesper did his usual thing of causing complete and utter chaos.

Wylan was sitting on the edge of a wall, fidgeting with a dummy bomb, his leg bouncing up and down nervously.

“They’ll be fine,” Nina said, looking at Matthias. “They’ll be fine.”

As she uttered the words, an almighty explosion rocked the alleyway they had convened in. Smoke billowed up from the building Jesper and Y/N were inside as bricks, beams and glass all crashed down on top of another in a messy symphony. The walls collapsed down like a house of cards and a nearby flock of pigeons flapped away from the chaos.

The five remaining Crows stared in silence.

Kaz felt as if he might keel over. He stared at the pile of rubble, gripping his cane tightly, the beak of the crow’s head digging into his hand through his gloves. Jesper. Y/N. Both of them were under the rubble that had once been a merchant’s second home. Someone had blown them up.

Somehow, Matthias snapped into action first, grabbing Nina’s arm and pulling her with him, towards the pile of rubble. Wylan scrambled after them, determined to find his friends.

“Kaz, come on,” Inej said softly, hovering beside him. “We need to go look for them.”

Kaz nodded once, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched it, swallowing his emotions down. He limped after the rest of his gang, his cane clicking loudly on the cobblestones, breaking the eerie, deathly silence that had descended upon the street.

Matthias and Wylan had begun removing beams and chunks of brick from the pile, trying to find a way to get inside. Kaz wanted to help, but couldn’t bring himself to be so close to anyone, so he resorted to stay out the way, watching out for any of the Stadwatch.

Nina was trying her best to locate Jesper and Y/N but the pile of rubble was muffling any sound of their heartbeats. Well, that’s what she was telling herself. She didn’t want to even think about the other reality.

Jesper groaned loudly as he suddenly awoke. His head was pounding and he was being crushed by something heavy and wide. He blinked and the world came into view again and he realised what had happened.

A large, wooden beam was lying across his chest and he was sprawled awkwardly across piles of bricks. He could move, however. The rubble had formed a small pocket around them, the beams that had supported the roof supporting a ton of rubble above them.

Jesper carefully slid out from underneath the beam, trying not to nudge it or move it incase he took the entire thing out and crushed himself to death. He somehow slid down the rubble and further into the pocket and let out a heavy exhale as he caught his breath.

He looked around and froze as he spotted the familiar sight of Y/N’s hair and jacket from underneath what was once a door.

“Y/N!” Jesper exclaimed, clambering over bricks, keeping his head down and folding in on himself as he squeezed through a gap to get to her. “Y/N?”

Y/N lay scarily still, blood trickling down the side of her head, a splintered, heavy oak door lying across her bottom half. Her arm was flung across the bricks and her skin was littered with cuts.

Jesper shoved the door off her with a grunt, his eyes running up and down her body to see if anything was broken. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. He crawled closer and grabbed her hand, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and waiting.

For a moment, a long, painful moment, he felt nothing. His heart dropped and he genuinely felt as if he might be sick. She couldn’t be dead. She wasn’t allowed to die. She couldn’t die.

But then he felt a slight beat, followed by another and then another. It was slow, slower than it should be, but it was still going which meant Y/N was still alive.

Jesper forced himself to pause and breathe. They were trapped under a pile of rubble which could collapse at any moment. Y/N was unconscious and potentially dying which meant Jesper had to find a way out to safety and to the rest of the Crows. He glanced down at Y/N again, his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, the feeling of her slow, sluggish pulse helping calm him down. She was still alive.

Dust rained down on Jesper as he nudged a pile of bricks, seeking out the gap in the rubble that was letting the light in. There was a single ray of light shining through from somewhere - it was orange like the street lamps that dotted the streets of Ketterdam and its mere colour filled Jesper with a bizarre sense of hope.

If the light could get in, then they could get out.

He began by carefully moving bricks, stopping each time to make sure the beams keeping the worst of the rubble above them weren’t about to collapse. The broken glass cut into his hands and every movement sent sharp, searing pain through his head.

But he kept going.

Jesper took a risk and moved a large piece of a door. Above him the beams groaned and buckled and a shower of dust rained down as bricks and rubble fell down. Jesper dove across Y/N, shielding her from the falling debris.

Bricks and stones fell down but the beams stayed up, supporting the majority of the rubble and keeping their little pocket safe.

Jesper lifted himself of Y/N and grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse again and making sure her chest was still rising and falling. He reached out a hand and gently brushed off the dust and tiny pieces of debris on her face and sighed.

“Well, at least we’re both still alive,” Jesper muttered, trying to think of something positive. It’s what Y/N would do, she was always positive even if the situation was anything but positive. It drove Kaz insane.

“You could sound a little happier about that, Jes.”

Jesper jumped as Y/N’s voice, croaky and barely more than a whisper, broke his internal monologue of doom. She was looking up at him with the faintest hint of a smile on her pale, dust streaked face.

“Thank the Saints,” Jesper muttered, dropping his head on to the top of Y/N’s head, his shoulders slumping. “I thought you were...”

Jesper trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. Y/N, who seemed capable of reading the minds of everyone, even Kaz, grabbed his hand and squeezed it weakly.

“I feel like shit but I’m alive, Jesper,” Y/N said quietly, coughing slightly. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Jesper looked around again, hoping the new found relief he felt at Y/N having woken up would clear his head. All he could see were wooden beams, pipes, bricks and smashed glass and no exit.

“We’re stuck, then,” Y/N said softly, noticing her friends silence. She winced as she shifted on the floor, trying to move so that she could lean against the large piece of wall behind her. Jesper noticed and came back to her side, grabbing her hand and guiding her up until she felt the wall against her back.

“You good?” Jesper asked, his eyes full of concern, his hands clinging on to Y/N.

She nodded, her eyes shut as she felt the overwhelming wave of pain. She opened her eyes again and looked up. “If the street light is getting in,” she began turning her head with a grunt, “then there has to be a way out.”

“That’s what I thought but I can’t find a way to shift anything without risking bringing the entire building down on us.”

Y/N exhaled softly, slowly turning her head to look at the other end of the pocket they were in. They were well and truly trapped.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N frowned and turned back to face Jesper. “Why?”

“If we hadn’t gone back for that brooch and if I hadn’t -”

“Jesper.”

“ - been so determined to show off and -”

“Jesper.”

“ - we would have been at the rendezvous point in time and we wouldn’t -”

Y/N frowned as she heard the rubble shift above them. She tried to focus on the noise and her frown deepened as she realised that there were voices above them.

“Jesper, shut up a minute,” Y/N snapped, hitting him on the arm to cut off his rambling. “Listen.”

Jesper’s hurt expression at being told to be quiet quickly changed into a defensive one as he heard the rubble shifting and the indistinct sound of voices. He picked up his pistols from the ground and slowly clicked the safety off.

“Good or bad?” Y/N asked, wincing as she shifted herself onto her knees and moved behind Jesper.

“Either,” Jesper replied, his face hardening as the voices got closer. He aimed one pistol at the gap in the rubble where the sound was coming from, his other hand moving to rest on Y/N’s arm, reminding himself that she wasn’t dead, but alive.

Neither one spoke as they watched the rubble intently, bracing themselves for whoever appeared.

A head appeared in the gap and the person elegantly slid into their pocket, feet landing so silently that it could only be one person.

“Oh, Saints, Inej,” Jesper muttered, holstering his pistols and instantly relaxing.

Y/N felt her energy and resolve disappear at the reassuring sight of Inej, all the pain and exhaustion she was feeling return. She fell to the side, barely catching herself before she smacked her head on the floor.

“Saints, Y/N,” Inej said, climbing over to her as Jesper sat Y/N up against a broken piece of concrete.

“I’m good,” she said softly, wincing.

“And I’m a sun summoner,” Jesper replied sarcastically, disbelief written on his face at how much Y/N was playing off her injuries.

“Can you move?” Inej asked. “It’s not far to go until you’re outside.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”

She pushed herself up to her knees, gripping a wooden beam for support. The wooden beam held her weight for a moment before it collapsed to the side.

“Shit,” Jesper muttered as the entire building above them groaned loudly.

“Go,” Inej exclaimed, guiding Y/N up and inside the gap and then shoving Jesper after her as the building came crashing down into what had been their pocket.

Y/N kept crawling and began to panic as the darkness began to feel claustrophobic and tight and she was scared she was going to collapse in the tunnel, her vision coming and going in waves, her heart pounding.

But then someone grabbed her hand and gently pulled her out the rubble and into the open, catching her as her limbs decided to stop working, sending her crashing to the ground

“Hey, hey, you’re alright,” Matthias said, holding her up against him as she clung to his jacket, her entire body shaking.

“Thank Saints,” Y/N whispered, dropping her head onto Matthias shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened at the sudden, unexpected close contact. He’d never admit it but he had a soft spot for the girl and, after a moment of surprise, gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Y/N!” Nina exclaimed, rushing over to her as Inej and Jesper emerged from within the tunnel. “Jesper, are you two alright?”

“Well, we’re alive,” Y/N replied, smiling tiredly. “Much to Jesper’s disappointment.”

“I’m not disappointed that we’re alive,” Jesper retorted.

“You sounded disappointed,” Y/N countered back. “We survive being crushed to death by an entire building and he’s disappointed.”

“Again, I wasn’t disappointed,” Jesper grumbled.

Wylan looked between Jesper and Y/N. “Are they concussed?” He asked, genuine concern for them clear on his face.

“No. Unfortunately, that’s normal Y/N and Jesper behaviour,” Kaz replied, his cane clicking on the cobbles as he walked up to them. He looked Jesper up and down and then Y/N, his eyes running over them both.

“We’re fine, boss,” Jesper replied, sensing Kaz’s unspoken question.

“Good,” Kaz said, nodding. “Come on, we need to move we’re behind schedule.”

And with that he limped off down the street.

Y/N let out a scoff of laughter. She was still holding onto Matthias as Nina grabbed her hand softly and began healing her. “Jesper’s the reason we’re behind.”

Jesper gasped loudly, hand flying to his chest as his mouth opened in mock horror. “How dare you! I found that brooch for you!”

“Just because I see something sparkly and go ‘ooo’ doesn’t mean you have to pick it up!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re not a magpie!”

“The gratitude I get, I swear,” Jesper muttered, stomping off purposefully after Kaz.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment and sighed softly, Nina’s magic working its way through her system. They were a band of misfits and criminals, the dregs of society, but to her they were family.

#shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #jesper x reader #jesper fahey #platonic imagine #platonic

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disasterofastory · 3 years

Text

Keep me warm (Hvitserk x Reader)

Keep me warm Hvitserk x Reader Warnings: smut

Hvitserk and Reader have to stay in a hut deep in the woods for the night.

You didn’t imagine your weekend like this; trapped in a small hut in the middle of a snowstorm without fire. Old candles give you some light in the small, dusty room as you try to find every cover and blanket for tonight. You can hear the wind outside, but the windows are useless at this point. You can’t see anything from the snow in the dark. Of course, you can complain about the circumstances, but you are lucky you even find this cabin to escape from the harsh weather.

And at least you are not alone, however, you are not sure it’s really luck or a curse.

“I’m sorry,” Hvitserk says after a while. His voice sounds guilty and sad. He wanted a pleasant few days with you far away from his family prying eyes.

“Don’t,” you sigh softly, squeezing his arm. “We are still far from your family,” you joke, and he smiles at your words.

You and Hvitserk are best friends since childhood. You grew up with him and his brothers, but as they started to practices for battles and raids, you started working at your parents’ bakery shop. The delicious baked goods helped you to keep Hvitserk close, but it still wasn’t the same. And the blond-haired boy felt that too. So he came up with the idea to escape from the village for a few days to enjoy each other’s company.

“At least we still have food,” he says, sitting down on the bed, patting the covers next to him.

You laugh at his enthusiastic voice as you sit beside him, watching his hands, opening the package. You have dinner with ale while you talk about your days. He boasts about his development in sword fights, and you tell him about your experiences at the shop. At first, you feel awkward. Your tales are much more boring, compared to Hvitserk’s, but the boy looks at you with awe and happiness. He listens to your every word and asks you about things. About boys, for example.

“Nothing,” you shrug. “I had a fling with the fisherman’s son, but it was just… a fling. What about you and the slave girl?”

“She is not a slave anymore,” he reminds you. “Not after he married to Ubbe.”

“Are you okay?” You ask him, setting aside your jealousy.

“Yes, it was just sex,” he replies, drinking from the flask. “But their marriage reminded me of something.”

“Reminded you of what?”

“Marriage,” he answers, looking up at your eyes. “Maybe it’s time for me to settle down too.”

“Really?” You can’t help but smile. The Hvitserk, you know, runs from woman to woman and doesn’t think about the future.

“Yes. It would be good to have a wife before I sail away, so I can come home to somebody. Maybe kids.”

“Oh, Gods,” you laugh, but not at him, and he knows that too. “We really talked a long time ago. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You are still the only one who knows me really,” he says with a small smile, his eyes shine with calmness and contentment.

The coldness gets worst as the night comes, and soon you find yourself in the bed with Hvitserk. You slept next to him before, but it still feels different. You are too aware of his body beside you, and you can’t keep yourself away from him because of his warmth. You needed every blanket and pelt you brought and found anyway.

Your whole body shakes as you try to snuggle deeper under the covers, and you can tell, Hvtiserk isn’t in better shape than you.

“We should get naked,” he says suddenly, and a small laugh burst out of you, hearing his suggestion. “I’m not joking,” he continues, but he smiles at your girlish giggles. “The body heat would keep us warm.”

“Hvitserk…” you start, unsure of your next words. He is right. You know he is right. “It won’t be awkward between us, right?”

“Of course not,” he says reassuringly. He winces at himself. Even the thought of you naked next to him gets him hard.

Without words, you start to undress under the blankets, and the Viking follows your lead. After a few seconds, you lay naked beside your friend’s also bare body. Your skin is hot, and every fiber in your body tells you to move closer to him. And while you try to get a grip on your emotions, he tries to suppress his erection.

You hum to break the awkward silence.

“We should sleep,” he says hoarsely. “If we are lucky, we can go home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you nod. You don’t understand the disappointment you feel, hearing his words.

The sleep comes easier as you thought, considering everything. The warmth and Hvitserk’s safeness give you enough peace of mind to fall into the darkness. But the darkness doesn’t last long.

You wake up to an arm sneaking around you and a body pressing to your back. What gives you the real fright is a hardness against your waist.

“Hvitserk,” you whisper into the silence. “Hvitserk,” you try again, louder. He grunts, moving closer, and you squeal at the feeling. His hand moves up on your body, but you grab his fingers before he can grab something else.

“Hvitserk!” You whisper-yell this time, and it wakes him up. He freezes at first, sensing the position you two are in, and after the recognition, he almost jumps out of the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, turning round to see his dark silhouette. You don’t even know why you asked this. You felt not a minute ago he is just fine. In more ways than one.

“Are YOU okay?” He asks back. “I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

“You… you didn’t,” you answer. Your voice is unsure but mostly because of his reaction.

You feel his gaze on you, however, you can’t see his eyes under the darkness.

“You mean what I think you mean?” He asks after a while, breaking the tense silence between you.

“I hope so,” you whisper.

When he gets closer, you can see his eyes and parted lips before he kisses you while you still lean on your elbows. His hand goes to your neck, keeping you close to him as he starts to play with your tongue.

As the kiss gets heavier, he lays you down to move above you, pulling the covers with him to keep you warm beside his lying body on you. Your breasts pressed to his chest while his cock pulsating against your hipbone. You spread your legs for him, and he snuggles between your thighs without breaking the kiss.

One of his hands goes between your bodies to grab your breast, playing with the soft flesh as his lips go down on your neck. His warm breath fans against your skin, pecking you repeatedly.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “If we do this,” he continues before you can answer. “You will marry me, you will bear my kids.”

“Are you sure?” You ask him back breathlessly, hearing his serious words.

“You are the one for me, Y/N,” he replies.

“I’m sure,” you tell him after a few seconds. Your heart speeds up excitedly at the thought of a life with him.

Yes. You want it. All of it.

He kisses you again roughly, and you grab his shoulders to keep him close to you. His body is heated and hard against you, his hips start to move without his noticing.

You almost giggle at his reflex-like moves, and you reach down between you to grab his manhood. You pull at his soft skin a few times while he grunts into your collarbone at the feeling. You open your legs more, placing him just the right way before he pushes his hips once again.

He opens you up slowly and steadily, basking at the warmth and tightness around his cock and your softness under him. The coldness is long forgotten as you pant at each other. Your caress his skin everywhere you can reach while he supports himself next to your head to move faster and harder in and out of you.

“Cum in me,” you mewl into the darkness, placing your leg around his thin waist to keep him in you. Your wetness coats his cock when your muscles jump and vibrate from the pleasure. Your head falls back on the pillow as you moan his name, closing your eyes at the feeling. His lips find your neck as he stops his movements to stay in you, filling you up with his warm seed.

“If we are lucky enough, you will be with my child before we go home,” he pants with a smirk on his lips, kissing you again. “I just have to keep you full.”

“You are horrible,” you laugh at his brutish words, but your heart flutter at his intentions.

“Yes,” he agrees, pecking you again. “But I will be your husband.”

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk x you #hvitserk smut #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings smut

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Five

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Injuries,

Word Count: 3.2K

A/n: here we are, folks. What if I ended it like this lol that would be kinda gangsta of me LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

You push open the front door with a heavy sigh, setting the paper grocery bags down on the counter then resting a hand on your growing belly.

There’s a tiny flutter under your hand and you can’t help yourself from smiling.

The smile vanishes, however, when a hand grabs at your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Where the Hell were you?” Steve’s angry voice demands.

You look up at him in shock and confusion, looking over at the groceries.

“I-I just went to the store.”

He shakes his head, grabbing your face with one hand and stepping closer. You take a step back with each one he takes towards you, and soon enough he’s got you pinned against the wall.

His grip on your face tightens and you wince, fear overwhelming your body, making your heart race.

“Bucky said he saw you talking to someone. A man. Who was he?”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“H-He was just asking me about my pregnancy. When I'm due, if I know what I’m having.”

It’s nothing but the truth.

“I give you freedom and this is what you do? You go and flirt with other guys? You’re my property. Don’t forget that.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks and into his hand, but he doesn't let go. Even as your chest heaves and sobs bubble out of you, he stays glaring at you.

“Please, Steve, stop. Y-You’re hurting me!”

His jaw flexes and he slowly lets go, only to cage you against the wall, slamming his fist against it in the process.

Your heart hammers in your chest, terror gripping you and freezing you in place as you remember what he did to Nat and her baby.

“I-I came home, didn’t I? I could’ve asked for help! Could’ve said something, but I didn’t. I’m here, again, even though I could’ve run away. I’m here. You have me! You have me.”

You slide down the wall, knees drawn up to your chest as you sob, the reality of your words and the fear doing a number on your emotions.

Steve’s anger slowly melts away, replaced with concern as he sees nothing but terror on your face.

“I-I didn’t mean to yell, honey. It’s okay, shh, come here.”

You don’t fight him as he pulls you into his arms and brings you upstairs into your bedroom, sitting you gently on the bed and pushing your hair away from your face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart I just... You gotta understand how nervous it makes me when you leave the house like that.”

You sniffle then slowly look up at him, your eyes bloodshot and tear-filled.

“Then why give me the freedom to leave?”

Your voice cracks and it makes his heart hurt.

“I... I want to trust you. That’s why.”

You take a few deep breaths, your eyes focused on your trembling hands as your heart starts to slow back to its normal rhythm.

“Ever since that night when Nat and Buck came over you’ve... you’ve been off. I’m worried about you, honey. I just wanna make sure that everything’s okay.”

He wants to know what Nat told you. What she said to have you acting like this.

Your eyes meet his, wet and full of fear as you whisper three words.

“Is it true?”

He has an idea what you’re referring to, and his heart picks up speed.

“Did...did you do it?”

He swallows hard and avoids your eyes, but that’s answer enough.

Some strange mixture of a gasp and a sob bubbles out of you, and you bring your hands up to cover your face as your shoulders start shaking again.

“I didn’t... I guess I did.” You sniffle and look up at him through your tears.

“If you want me to trust you... if you ever want any hope at having some semblance of normalcy, you’re gonna need to elaborate. I’m trying to play your little game but I just... I’m scared you’re gonna kill my baby too. That you’re gonna hurt Sarah.”

He shakes his head immediately, grabbing your hands and holding them softly in his.

“I would never hurt Sarah, or our new baby, okay? Natasha... she was becoming a liability. That being said, I didn’t go into it with the intention of hurting her baby but... I knew it could be a consequence.”

You wait for him to continue, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“When you burned the book... that wasn’t the only copy. Fury made sure there was at least one more, in case we ever needed it. Had his own group working on it, creating a new version of it. Natasha became a test subject long before I met you. Before I... took you.”

He drops his eyes and huffs out a sigh.

“We didn’t need to wipe her memory, we just... needed a way to make her more complacent. To make her realize that she can’t go off on her own and keep secrets like that. Especially when they involve you.”

Your chest heaves as you glare at him, your anger growing by the second.

“Did you kill her baby?”

The words are harsh like the crack of a whip, and he has to stop himself from flinching.

“It wasn’t my intention... but it was worth it.”

You choke on another sob, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“I didn’t know what the tea would do to her baby. It was just a mild sedative so we could get her to the facility and do the procedure. Get her to tell us where you were, where Sarah was. But then she... she started bleeding. I didn’t... I thought maybe it was just a side effect but then the doctors told us... (Y/n), you’ve gotta believe me. You need to know that I didn’t mean to...” he trails off and shakes his head, thinking about the niece or nephew that he could’ve had.

The son or daughter that he stripped Bucky of. The pain he inflicted upon Natasha. But he has you, so in the end, it was worth it.

You slowly look up at him, shaking your head.

“Why? You’ve done nothing but lie to me and hurt me. Why should I believe a word you’re saying?”

He swallows hard, reaching for your hand again only for you to yank it away once more.

“You want the truth? Fine. You’re not the first person that we’ve... taken. And I doubt you’ll be the last. Bucky... he had someone. Someone to help him control the soldier. But she turned out to be worse than him. We had to terminate her because she became a liability.”

He looks down at his hands, remembering how innocent she seemed. And then she snapped. Tried killing Nat and Bucky. Turned the redhead against them until Fury stepped in.

“Nat didn’t... agree with what we did. So we changed her mind.”

Your brows draw together in confusion.

He can’t mean... can he?

As if sensing your confusion, he elaborates.

“We didn’t do exactly the same procedure. But it... its function was the same. We needed her to forget certain things. To be our friend again while still remembering other things about the situation. And it worked. All I wanted to do this time was open her up to us again. Tell me where you and Sarah were. I never meant to hurt her baby.”

You shake your head furiously, tears dripping down your cheeks. “You’re a murderer. A disgusting monster. I hate you.” Your words are venomous and acidic, and Steve almost flinches at them, shaking his head.

“That’s not true, (Y/n). I love you.”

You laugh, the sound manic and for a moment Steve’s concerned.

“This isn’t love, Steve, this is obsession! It’s unhealthy! You’ve got me trapped here against my will! Y-You’ve hurt me and raped me and now I’m supposed to pretend everything’s okay? I’m supposed to play the good little housewife while you go around kidnapping and killing women? Killing other people’s children?! No!”

You stand up and try to move past him but he grabs hold of your forearm, rising to his feet with you.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes are fiery as he glares at you, but you’re not nearly as afraid as you once were. No. You’re just angry.

You glare at him, rage burning through your body as you yank free from his grip and walk out of the room.

“You leave this house and I won’t hesitate to drag your ass right back!” He shouts.

But you don’t plan on leaving.

Oh no.

Why does he deserve his happy ending so much more than everyone else?

You turn to face him once you reach the top of the stairs, your heart in your throat at what you’re about to do. The damage it could cause.

At least it’ll get your point across.

“Why do you deserve a baby so much more than Natasha?” He furrows his brows, trying to figure out what your next move is going to be.

“I’ve given my life over and over for this stupid pathetic world. I’ve sacrificed my happiness time and time again. Do I not deserve something good?”

You take a deep breath and shrug.

“Maybe you do. But not like this.”

With that, you turn around and let yourself fall down the stairs.

Steve tries to grab you, he really does, but he’s just not fast enough.

He watches you fall, tumble down the stairs then lay still at the bottom, and for a moment all he can do is stare.

Memories fill his mind. Of you falling down the stairs. Then bleeding. So much blood. And your baby... gone.

He nearly falls down the stairs himself in his haste to get to you, two fingers pressing first to your pulse, then his hand is pressed against your belly, trying desperately to feel for the fluttering kicks you told him about.

It takes a minute, maybe two, and then he feels a small press against his hand.

He lets out a breath of relief then grabs his phone, calling the doctor.

~*~

When the doctor assures him that both you and the baby are okay, he’s relieved. But that only lasts for a moment before anger takes hold, powerful and persistent.

You can feel the anger rolling off of him when you wake up, and for a moment you’re afraid.

But hopefully, you got your point across.

He doesn’t deserve another baby. Not if that’s what he wants. He’s a terrible human being. And bringing a baby into the world with him as the father should be a crime.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping to keep him as calm as possible.

“She’s having a sleepover with Morgan over at Tony and Pepper’s.”

You nod, your stomach dropping as you realize you’re alone in the house with him and he’s beyond pissed off.

Your mind races back to all the times he’s punished you in the past, and you almost throw up with the anxiety coursing through your veins.

“You ever do anything like that again and I swear I’ll make you regret it. I won’t kill you, no. My baby needs his mommy, but I’ll make you hurt. You’re lucky I’m not doing anything to you now.”

You swallow hard and look away from him in disgust, only for him to grab your jaw and force you to look at him.

“You need to stop acting out like this. I told you what happened to the last asset who became a liability. Fury shot her point-blank. A clean shot between her pretty eyes. Then he left her to bleed out on the bedroom floor while he fixed Nat’s memory. S’why she’s even still here and with Bucky. If she remembered what he did to that poor girl... she’d have killed him herself by now. But he needs to outlet to keep the soldier at bay. And he deserves her. Deserves some happiness in his fucked up life.”

You shake your head, disagreeing strongly with every word he’s spoken.

They're monsters. Natasha less so. A victim, like you, maybe. But the two soldiers? Monsters. Monsters who don’t deserve any happiness. They deserve nothing but a slow painful death and an eternity in the fiery pits of Hell.

“I told you, (Y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt her baby. If I’d wanted to, I’d be rubbing it in her face more. Showing off your pregnancy more. And if you think I’m gonna hurt our baby, you’re wrong. I would never hurt my babies. It kills me that you think I’d ever do something like that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve already killed at least one baby.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks and you regret your words.

“You know what? I think you really need a reminder of your place, sweetheart. You’re mine. Maybe not my wife, yet, but soon enough. Until then, you need to know that you belong to me.”

His grip on your face is painful, but you don’t make a single sound.

No, he’s not going to win.

He doesn’t want to hurt the baby or cause unnecessary strain, so he can’t have you on your stomach like he usually would.

So he makes the most of you lying on your back.

He grabs your wrists and binds them above your head, hooking them to the ring on the headboard despite your struggles.

“Steve, no! Please! I-I... Don’t hurt me, please!”

He cocks his head to the side, watching you wriggle and strain.

“You’re mine, (Y/n). You belong to me. There’s no one in this entire world who’ll help you. You’re my property. It’s time you realized that.”

A sick smile spreads across his face as he remembers what made you obedient last time.

“You know, I think I know exactly what you need.”

He climbs off the bed and drops to his knees, rooting under it until he finds his special black box.

You wriggle away furiously, trying to break free before he can hurt you, but deep down you know it’s all for not.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he sits back down on the bed, worming his way between your thighs and flipping your dress up over your extended stomach.

“Please don't,” you whimper uselessly.

He strokes your inner thighs gently, then leans down to spit on your centre.

You flinch away, tears leaking from your eyes as you realize what he’s going to do.

“Please don’t,” you repeat, only to be silenced by him pushing something far too big inside of you.

You cry out, your back arching and sending shoots of pain up to your scalp. The added weight of your baby makes everything ten times more painful, and you can't stop yourself from sobbing as he forces every last inch of the thick dildo into your unprepared cunt.

It burns. Fire spreads from between your legs up your spine and the tears don’t stop.

“Stop! Please! I’ll be good!” He knows you won’t. Or, he just doesn't believe you. You want the pain to stop but you’re not actually willing to change your behaviour for it. Not yet. But you will.

When the dildo is finally fully inside you, he climbs off the bed and shoves the box back underneath it. He adjusts his pants then walks to the door, pausing to look at your trembling figure on the bed.

Your shoulders shake with sobs, and he feels pride swell inside of him.

Good. Now you’ll finally learn.

“You’re gonna stay here until you learn your place. I don’t care how long it takes. When you’re ready to apologize and be a good girl, then we’ll talk. But until then...” He shuts off the light and pulls the door closed behind him, leaving you alone, in pain, and in the dark.

Memories of the last time this happened stab at your brain, and you quickly start hyperventilating.

What’s worse than that, though, is the tiny voice in your head telling you to get off your back. That it’s not good for the baby if you stay like this.

But no matter how much you scream or cry for him, Steve doesn’t come to the door once.

~*~

He leaves you there for hours, or maybe days. It’s so hard to tell.

The room is soundproof, so no one can hear your cries and you can’t hear anything outside.

Even if people could hear you, it doesn’t really matter now.

You’ve been on your back for so long that you’re starting to get dizzy.

During your first pregnancy, you learned only that it’s bad for the baby to sleep on your back. You didn’t think you’d be feeling the effects of it, too.

But here you are, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, mind spinning and lungs struggling to pull in enough air to satisfy you.

It must’ve been several hours ago that Steve left if you’re feeling such strong effects of it. You’re not sure what the technical term is, but you know that you probably don’t have much time left. Your baby has even less.

Your heart aches. Each beat makes sadness bloom in your soul and you can’t stop it.

New tears fall down your cheeks, and all you want is to reach down and caress your belly, apologize to the life growing inside of you.

Apologize for hurting them, for who their father is. For the life you’re bringing them into.

Nobody deserves that.

But now... now you might not have to worry.

Every passing second sends the walls around you spinning faster and faster and faster until all you can do is let your eyes fall closed.

Sleeping will probably make it better anyway, right?

As the darkness creeps up, seeps into your limbs and chases the pain away, you pray.

You’ve never really prayed much before, but you do today.

You send a prayer to any and all Gods, the old ones and the new, and you ask for forgiveness.

You pray for the safety of your unborn child, and for that of Sarah.

A deep part of your brain knows that you may never open your eyes, and you want your daughter to know that you love her. That she means the world to you and you’ll do all that you can to protect her.

Thinking about Sarah brings a wave of strength seemingly out of nowhere, and for a moment you wonder if the Gods heard you. If this is them sending their aid.

You take a few deep breaths, building up as much strength as you can, and try your luck one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as it should be, and the room is so thickly padded that there’s no way he can hear you.

Hopelessness floods your body and you fall into it.

Your sorrow distracts you from the darkness until it takes hold of you and pulls you down, away from the world of pain that you’ve been trapped in.

And you feel peace.

#Dark Series #dark!fic #dark!au #dark!steve #dark!fanfiction #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you #dark Steve rogers #dark steve #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #Steve Rogers x reader dark fic #steve x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic

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whumpzone · 3 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

#tomas and rowe #pet whump #whump fic #deconditioning #mine #my thoughts while writing this: i love my boy i love my boy i love my boy

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koumine · 3 years

Text

🦑 take your tentacle monster on a date 🦑/ Ruri-chan headcanon [OM!] [tentacle monster Reader/Leviathan]

check out the first snippet from this fic here! -> [link]

content tags: tentacle monster!Reader / Leviathan, gender neutral reader, monster courting, fluff, humor, eldritch vibes, communication issues between a tentacle monster & a humanoid demon, my attempt at a Ruri-chan headcanon, one tiny mention of breeding (literally 2 words)

[rated T below] [WIP ZONE]

Courting Leviathan, it turns out, involves a lot more talking than you had thought it would. He’s still pretty damn adorable, bringing you gifts of strange little figurines and textiles and babbling on and on about them. But you don’t understand his fascination with them, or the need to amass so many of them when they all look so similar to you, though of course you safely secret away everything he gives you into a pocket dimension. Until one day, when you come up to meet him in the cool shallows just below the drop-off, and he beams happily as he tells you that this is his favorite and hands you a little clear rectangular prism with air trapped inside along with an idol of -- You hurl the box away from you, your tentacles writhing and flinching in fright. The Mistress of Poison! you howl.

“Hey!” Leviathan cries, snagging the box as it soars by him. “Why did you do that?!” You inch away from him, and the terrifying mint-condition idol he’s cradling in his arms. You have doomed us both, you wail mournfully. None can touch the Mistress of Poison’s unholy idols but for her most dedicated acolytes! He looks confused. “Um, this is just a regular-edition figurine, you can get these anywhere -- I would give you a nicer one, at least an SSR, but I haven’t quite worked out the waterproofing enchantments yet, and I wouldn’t want to waste a limited-edition SSR if it’s just going to get crushed by the pressure when you go home… But here, I doubt you care about mint-condition collecting, so you can touch this one!” And he opens the package, releasing the air in a stream of bubbles, and reaches in -- NO! you roar, and seize his arm to keep him from touching the idol, from being tainted by its venomous corruption and dooming himself, and he flinches so hard that he drops the box and it goes sailing through the water. And lands, open side first, on the tip of one of your tentacles. The idol is touching you. You shriek so loud it kills a nearby school of fish, and nearly tear a hole in the fabric of reality to hurl yourself away from this horrible plane of existence, before you realize -- you feel nothing. No pain. The tentacle touched by the idol is not withering away into a warped husk, no deadly corrupting venom is clawing its way through your being, the ten thousand voices of the Mistress of Poison are not crooning their song of murder into your mind. You’re fine. And Leviathan is holding your tentacle. “Are you okay?” he says, eyes wide with concern for you. You shrink down a little, drawing your tentacles inward. (Including the one Leviathan is holding. This brings him closer to you. Nice.) I am very confused, you admit. You offer the box back to him. This idol is safe to touch? “Yes,” he says, looking confused himself as he takes the box. “It’s just a plastic figurine. Ruri-chan doesn’t poison her fans.” He glances aside. “Anymore.” Ruri-chan, you echo slowly. A fittingly horrendous new name for the Mistress of Poison. He smiles, and gives a happy little giggle, looking at the idol fondly. “I know, right? She’s so cunning and adaptable!” Yes, you agree. You look at the idol, too. The “figurine”. Please tell me more about the recent exploits of the Mistress Ruri-chan, you say. I fear my seclusion in the depths has left me ignorant of Her Venomousness’ latest pursuits. He beams happily with his teeny tiny humanoid teeth, and launches into an adorably excited babble about the last five thousand years of Poisonous news, to which you listen attentively, frequently exclaiming in excitement, in between snacking on the fish you killed earlier, which your tentacles started grabbing as soon as you realized you weren’t about to die. (You try to feed some to Leviathan, but apparently he can’t talk and eat at the same time, so he only eats a couple, before rambling on. It’s ok, you’ll kill a proper meal for him to eat later. Maybe that mega-megalodon is still around?)

She infiltrated the human world? you exclaim. “Yes!” And didn’t poison them all?? “No, listen, you haven’t heard the rest yet --” You munch on your snacks, listening intently. “...and now she uses flower magic to destroy evil demons!” Flower-based poisons, you muse, sagely nodding several hundred eye-stalks, a truly ingenious means of keeping her foes at bay. “Exactly!!” He does an excited little wiggle in the water, and continues. She sang a diabolic duet with Levistus?? you exclaim, sometime later. “I know, right??” And I MISSED IT??? you screech, brandishing several half-eaten fish in agitation. He smirks at you. He’s still holding your tentacle, which makes your other tentacles shiver with joy. “I have the concert special episode on my D.D.D.,” he says. “We can watch it together!” Yes, you say immediately. A Date, a Proper Humanoid Date, aaaaa you are the luckiest direct descendant of Mighty Cthulhu to have ever spawned. “Oh, but …” His face falls a little. “My D.D.D. is only waterproofed to twenty meters.” He gives you a hesitant look. “You’ll have to come up to the surface…” You do your best to suppress the instinctive shiver, tightening your grip on his hand. Do I have to go … on land? you ask weakly. For him, you would, but… “No, the reef is shallow enough,” he says, “you can stay fully submerged the whole time.” Oh, you say, and relax. Reefs are fine. Tasty, though not filling. Let’s go then!

You watch the concert together with him at the edge of the reef, on a tiny little rectangular spell-stone that Leviathan summons and holds in both hands. Sadly, you don’t get to hold his hand during it. But he does let you cuddle up close to him, and blushes and smiles so delectably when you show restraint and carefully lay one (1) tentacle across his shoulders and along his arm. The concert is devastatingly good. You love everything about the new Ruri-chan, and continue to be incredibly satisfied that you pledged to tithe a portion of your ongoing soul collection to her all those eons ago. Your happy screeching (and your attempts to sing along with the one song you know, an old deep-sea trench classic) shatter a swath of nearby coral and shake a bunch of fresh fish and crustacean carcasses loose from the reef floor, so there are also snacks for your Date, oh infinite hells, it’s so perfect. Leviathan even eats everything you hand him, this time, prickling sea slugs and hornet shrimp and anemone-laden chunks of coral, and as he munches contentedly away at the snacks while watching Ruri-chan dance a dance of decomposition and destruction and decay, you feel the constant howling of feed your mate stuff him full feed him breed him FEED HIM in the back of your mind quiet down to a low hiss for the first time in an eon.

read more? -> [masterlist]

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me ��💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy!

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him.

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape.

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking.

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive.

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands.

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red.

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love.

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt.

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment.

He nods.

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly.

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain.

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier.

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window.

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared.

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything.

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After.

#geraskier #geraskier tangled au #rapunzel jaskier #flynn ryder geralt #geraskier fluff #geraskier getting together #bouncey's endless au collection #protective geralt #soft geralt #geralt whump #tangled #blood mention #blood tw #injury tw #death but only for a minute #tangled au #goob prompt fills

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 1/?: Someplace Strange

“HUNTER!”

Hunter sprinted through the hallways, gasping. He’d really done it this time—there was no bouncing back, was there?

“Have to find somewhere to hide,” he muttered. He ducked into the throne room, slipping behind the completed door. Surely no one would risk hitting Belos’ prized project just to get at him. “Just have to—”

Oh, Hunter, Belos’ voice echoed around him, you cannot hide in this castle. I can find you anywhere.

Hunter yipped, backing into the door. It started to glow, and he yanked his hand away. “The blood,” he gasped, “It must have leaked from the key when I took it from Blight!” He glanced around. No. He couldn’t hide in this castle, and there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out without being caught. He looked back at the door, and slowly put his palm on it. The door started to glow again.

Hunter—Hunter, no, you stop that this instant. You cannot hide there, either, the human realm—

Hunter stepped through the portal.

Hunter!

The moment he was through, it closed up behind him. Hunter dropped to his knees with a whump.

He’d really done it.

He’d run away.

To the human realm.

What had he been thinking?!

The portal was gone—he was trapped here, now, with no way back.

Something thumped in the creepy old house he’d emerged in, and he ducked behind the stairwell, whipping out his staff. When the whatever-it-was finally came down the stairs, he jumped out with a yell, swinging his weapon.

He immediately landed in a tripwire that yanked on his leg. He fell with a yelp, struggling backwards, which just made it tighter.

“Whoa—hey, hang on, stop pulling, you’ll just make it tighter!”

The thing. It was just a human. Relief warred with caution, and Hunter scrambled for his staff. “Stay back!”

The human kicked the staff to the side, kneeling down next to him. “Hey, there. I won’t hurt you. You’re… not from around here, are you?”

Hunter surged forward and bit her hand. He was not going to get taken hostage by some human!

“Ow!” she yelped, yanking back, “Hey! I’m trying to help!”

Hunter rolled over on his back, sitting up and tugging on the wire around his ankle. “I—don’t—need—any—”

“You need to give it some slack, or you won’t be able to undo it!” the human approached him cautiously, her hands up. “Just let me help you.”

Hunter scooted away, in the direction of the line. “I knew that!” He undid the pin, and slowly pulled his foot out of the loop, reaching into his cloak pocket for his dormant palisman.

“I thought I gathered all of the traps up, but I guess I missed a—”

The human yelped, as Hunter threw his palisman at her. It came to life and attacked, pecking at her and beating around her head with its wings. Hunter made a break for the door. “Come on!”

His palisman left the woman and perched on his shoulder as he tore out of the house and down a path. “Good work, buddy!”

“Hey, wait!” the woman called from behind him, “You don’t know anything about this wo—”

Hunter ran right out onto a strange black path, and a massive hunk of metal barreled towards him, the lights on it blinding. He reached for his staff, but he must have left it back at the creepy house, because it wasn’t there. The hunk of metal screeched to a stop as he stumbled backwards, tripping over his cape.

“HEY! WHY WERE YOU JUST STANDING THERE, YOU CRAZY COSPLAYER?!”

The woman from the house caught up, panting, and waved. “I’m sorry!” she called, hauling Hunter up to his feet, “One of Luz’s friends!”

She pulled Hunter away, her grip on his arm tight, but not tight enough to hurt. “That was crazy, you’re going to get yourself killed out here!”

“Lemme go! Who are you?!”

“I’m Camila Noceda. You can call me Camila. You’re from the Boiling Isles, right?”

Hunter wrenched his arm out of her grasp. “How do you know?! Who are you?!”

“I’m just a human. But…” Camila took a deep breath. “Any chance you met my daughter? Luz Noceda, she’s about your age, brown hair—”

“You’re Luz’s mother?!” Hunter facepalmed. “Of all the—I don’t know what she’s told you, but—”

“You know Luz!” Camila grabbed his hands. “Is she okay? How is she doing over there? Is she any closer to getting back—OH! Wait, you got through! How’d you do it? Can you take me there?”

Wait. He could work with this. Hunter disentangled his hands from Camila’s. “I will tell you everything I know. If you help me.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to—okay. Sure. Come on. Here’s your stick thing.”

Hunter snatched his staff from her hands. “This is an incredibly dangerous—just… don’t touch it, okay?”

“Mmm. Okay. Sure. Follow me, uh…”

“Hunter.”

“Any last name?”

“No.”

“Alright...”

Camila started walking back down the road, and Hunter jogged to keep up. “So—where exactly would be a good place for me to start… looking for a job, I guess?”

“Psssht. You’re what, fourteen?”

“Sixteen!” Hunter snapped. Oh, a fine time for his voice to crack, wonderful.

“Mmm. Yeah, sixteen, no social security, no identification of any kind, no kind of formal education, not even a last name—good luck finding a job. Do you mind… telling me why you decided to come here?”

Hunter’s palisman nuzzled his face, and he gently patted its head.

“I’m going to tell the emperor.”

“I was… running from someone.”

“Oh.” Camila hissed through her teeth. “Ayiyi. I suppose I can see why you’d be friends with Luz.”

Oh. She had… quite the wrong idea. Well. No harm in letting her keep thinking that.

Camila strode up a front drive of a house, opening a door. “Vee!” she called, “Come down, there’s someone I want you to meet!”

Vee? Who was—

Luz came down the stairs. Well—wait. Not Luz? She had strange, reptilian eyes, and spots on her cheeks, and her ears were—not human.

“Watch out, that’s a basilisk!” Hunter yelped.

When the basilisk saw him, she let out an ear-piercing shriek and dove back upstairs. “Vee!” Camilla called, pounding up the stairs, “What’s the matter?”

“That’s a basilisk!” Hunter yelled, charging up the stairs after her, “They’re shapeshifters—dangerous—”

“Vee’s not dangerous,” Camila growled. She knocked on a door. “Vee? What’s wrong?”

“That’s a coven guard!” the basilisk called, “He’s here to take me away!”

Camilia whipped around towards Hunter, a dangerous light in her eyes. “Is that true?”

Hunter backed up. “No! I didn’t even know she was here!”

“Liar!” Vee yelled from behind the closed door.

“I am not a liar!”

“Vee, he says he’s one of Luz’s friends.”

Hunter winced. Okay, that might actually be a dangerous lie in the long run. “Well—I never said—”

Camila face-palmed. “You don’t actually know Luz at all, do you.”

“I mean—I wouldn’t say—I do know her.”

“He’s a coven guard!” Vee yelled, “He probably tried to kill her!”

“Hunter…”

“Kill is such a strong word, I mean, I never really had the intent of killing her, I just sort of threatened her a little bit and—ehhhh what were we talking about, again?”

Camila crossed her arms. “Full story. Now.”

Hunter gulped. “Look, I told you the truth—I was running. I got in some really hot water, and I panicked, and I came through the portal, but what I really need now is to go back, I can’t—I shouldn’t have run. Oh, he’s going to be so mad.” Panic spiraled through him just thinking about it. “Oh, titan. I am in so much trouble. He’s going to kill me.”

“Probably,” Vee growled.

“Vee!” Camila scolded. She reached out, and he flinched away. She held her hands up in surrender. “Calm down. Who were you running from?”

The door opened a crack, and the basilisk peered out at him. “Yeah, who does a coven guard need to run from?”

Hunter hesitated. “I mean—I wasn’t really running from—I did something I shouldn’t have—and I was running away from what I did—I wouldn’t say that there was a person, per se—”

“Who, Hunter?”

Hunter blinked hard. “My—the emperor.”

Vee’s door was flung wide open, and she stared at him, open-mouthed. “You were running away from the emperor?!” She squinted at him. “Wait a minute…”

Don’t figure it out, don’t figure it out, don’t figure it out—

“You’re the golden guard!” Vee blurted, “Camila, he’s not just a coven guard, he’s the head of the coven guards!”

Camila frowned. “Why were you running from the emperor?”

Hunter took in a shaky breath. “I… I fought another coven member.” He reached out to pat his palisman again, making sure it was still there. “She found out that I had Red here.”

“Aw, is that its name?”

“No. Just a nickname. Anyway, she threatened to tell the emperor that I had it, and…” He reached again for Red, and the bird snuggled against his face, warbling reassuringly. “I shouldn’t have attacked Kikimora. It—that was wrong of me, and I need to go back.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know where I’m going to stash Red, though. Maybe… maybe you should stay here?”

The cardinal nipped his ear. Hard.

“Ow!”

“I think the answer to that is no,” Camila offered. “Hunter, if you fought this—this Kikimora, why are you running from the emperor?”

“Did I say—uh, no, I’m running from Kikimora, because running from the emperor would be ridiculous, I mean, why would I be running away from him? I think I said—”

“No, you definitely said the emperor,” Vee interrupted. He shot her a glare.

Camila rubbed her arms. “Hunter, I don’t want to be nosy. But… is everything okay for you at home?”

Hunter laughed, maybe a bit hysterically. “Everything is—it’s fine! I’m fine. Home is fine. And I need to be getting back there. The emperor will be mad, sure, but he’ll be madder if I stay, so I need to—”

“Ahhhh, Hunter? I’m not sure you can get home. The fact that you even managed to get here is—it’s incredible, Luz hasn’t been able to get home to me. It’s hard enough getting to here from there, and getting from here to there? I don’t think it’s even possible without someone reaching out from the other side.”

Hunter’s heart thudded in his chest. “Don’t say it—”

“I’m afraid you’re stuck here.”

#I PROMISE i will give him a happy ending this time guys i SWEAR i will #toh #toh fanfiction #toh hunter #camila noceda #vee noceda #emperor belos #my writing

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

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Blood Bounty - Part 1 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 10K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings: Non-consensual vampire feeding (graphic, provocative, sexual, blood play, and twisted as fuck), captivation/enslavement, blood, drugging (force feeding vampire blood), obsession, violence, PTSD, at one point the OC pleads for death, it’s dark guys you’ve been warned. While the vampire feeding in this part is highly sexualized, I do have somewhat more “traditional” smut scenes planned for part 2 and 3.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: This mini-series is a loose retelling of Anastasia, you’ll find it to be very different from the animated film. I attempted to blend both the history and the story together in a new historical fantasy world that is not our own. Anyway I hope you enjoy the start to my three part twisted tale, and if you have any questions at the end please feel free to send them my way! Also a big thank you to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi and @ladyartemesia. This story wouldn’t have made it this far without you!

This story is dedicated to all of those who have lost themselves to a monster (of any form) at some point in their life. I know the journey back to yourself can be hard, but trust me, you are worth every effort.

...

From the break of dawn you’ve crossed miles of ground, traversing through grassy fields and deep rivers. Accompanied only by the clothes on your back, a stake in your hand, and a pair of boots far too big for your feet, all stolen during your hastened departure.

You consider yourself lucky after making it out unseen. Lucky that Taehyung had left his fortress of a castle, lucky that he took most of his capable progenies with him, lucky that the underling who tended to your room left the fire iron within your reach, and lucky that it was able to break the chain of the shackle fastened around your wrist. You left as soon as daylight broke. With everything working in your favour for your escape, even acquiring your captor’s clothes and cap to pass off as a young man. For sightings of a woman travelling alone might tip off those you would rather avoid.

But now, with your heels raw and bloody, it would seem that your good fortune has finally run out, as the smell will no doubt attract his hunters. You curse your carelessness, for the number of times Taehyung has complimented you for your most potent scent. You’ve witnessed it yourself, a single whiff of your blood during his feedings having sent several of his men into a frenzy. This unfortunate blessing left you to be seen as a bounty, condemning you to his captivity, and now the struggle as you flee for your life.

You attempt to clean the broken skin and stem the flow with strips torn from your tunic. The fine piece of clothing is barely recognizable after the paces you’ve put it through today. With the extra fabric now wedged into your boots you can only hope that it’ll make your journey tomorrow easier, and detain much of the scent that would allow them to track you.

You wish that you could continue on tonight, but the darkness of the wood, your sores, and your fatigue impede your plans. You’ve gained ground but the lack of settlements must mean that you still lie within his realm. With your memories stolen in an effort to keep you at his side you have little to go on but a tapestry that hung in his den. It showed a city to the east, beyond the boundary of his land, and what is hopefully your home. But with the woven display having no proper scale you have no idea how long it will take to actually leave his territory. Freedom could be hours or days away. You can only hope that the rivers you’ve traversed will keep them at bay until you can find a safer place to stay. Their weaknesses are all you have to lean on to prevent recapture, but will it be enough?

After tending to your feet you settle in the nook of a tree, leaning your head against the mossy trunk. Your stomach growls but you have no food to feed it, nor a blanket to dismiss the chilling wind which forces a shiver from you. Your deflated spirit is made even worse when a raven takes notice of your poor state. It circles overhead, undoubtedly looming with the hopes that you have given in, and that he too can feast on you.

Ignoring the omen, you close your eyes, directing your focus instead on the surrounding sounds of the forest, listening for anything that might be a predator making an approach. Despite an exhausting day you still are wary of sleep, knowing what will greet you as you drift off, and concern of someone, or something catching up to you once you do. You rest there for what must be an hour, debating with yourself the advantages slumber, before you hear the snap of a nearby twig. Your fingers drift to the wooden stake on the ground next to you, your movement is slow hoping to escape the notice of whatever might be drawing closer. The footsteps which crunch on the leaves continue to advance on your position. There’s no running now, all you can do is play ignorance until they are in range for you to act.

When a hand reaches down and tilts the brim of your hat, you open your eyes, driving your weapon up in an aim to strike, but your assailant is too quick for you. He catches your arm in an iron grip, much like the remains of the manacle that still holds your other wrist. Though his face is hidden by the dark of night and his frame draped in a long coat, there is no doubt about what he is, and what he’s come for, his speed in stopping you was far too fast to be human.

“Be still,” the monster growls. “It’s me, Yoongi. Are you hurt?”

His concern is almost laughable. His implication of a connection likely a trap, one intent on luring you in, with a motive to end the hunt. “Not if you leave me be.” You attempt to press the stake towards him still, but he barely even registers your efforts.

“Have you forgotten me?” The beast’s grip tightens on your arm as he dismisses your threat, taking the stake in his own hand before he pulls you up while he continues his deception, “I know that to be what I asked for, but I didn’t think... no, it matters not. ” He shakes his head as his words trail off. His voice then returns resolute and firm once he changes thoughts. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

You dig your heels into the ground as he attempts to pull you along, clawing at his fingers until they release you. “I’m not going anywhere with you vampire. You will not take me back to him, anywhere is safer than there.”

“I am not taking you back, but we must leave. They’ve already placed a large bounty on you and these parts will be flooded with hunters soon.”

“How can I be sure you’re not one of those hunters?” You make an attempt to retake the stake, showing you have no intention of complying with him. But he pulls it back, holding it just out of your grasp.

“You will have to take me at my word, I am not of Taehyung’s kin and I have no plans on handing you back over to him. Now if you please, I can either escort you to safety, or take you there by force.”

“I don’t trust you.” You glare back at him.

“Very well,” the vampire sighs, tossing your wooden weapon aside, putting it far beyond your reach. He then bends down, throwing you easily over his shoulder, and thereby ending the argument over your fate. Your fists collide with his back several times in an effort to make him release you, but he doesn’t appear bothered by the attack. You draw breath ready to call out when he stops you with a quick jostle. His shoulder lays into your abdomen knocking the wind from your lungs. “You may hit me all you want, but do not scream. I would rather not alert others to our location.”

Could he really not be someone sent by Taehyung’s underlings? Regardless, even if he is, you don’t have the strength to over power him. There’s little you can do but lay like a rag doll propped over his shoulder, with his arm hooked on the back of your knees.

He hauls you over to a break in the trees, one which leads out to the road where a horse waits patiently for him. You’re thankful when he seats you on the saddle rather than throwing you on your stomach once again. With the full light of the moon on the open dirt road, you’re finally able to see his face properly. His soft and sombre expression is a drastic difference compared to Taehyung’s sharp features and cruel grin.

“Are you going to behave now princess?”

Your eyes widen with terror in response to his last word uttered. You immediately try to pull away to put as much distance as you can between you and him, but he holds you firm in the saddle. The confining grip matching the memories of the name he has just called you all too well. Your breathing comes in short panicked waves as your hand moves to conceal the scar on your neck. You can’t go back, you won’t go back, you refuse to endure that supposed term of endearment anymore.

“Prin-” The vampire tries again to elicit a response from you, only this time you cut him off. Your fear turning to anger unwilling to tolerate another lie from his lips.

“If you are not one of Taehyung’s clan then tell me, why do you address me in that manner?”

“You don’t know why I call you princess?” He gazes upon you, his eyes narrowed in confusion as you recoil once again. This time he takes your hand, which bears the weight of both the iron shackle and bitten brand, to hold you still. When you wince from the pressure of his touch, he looks down to examine the sensitive spot. His jaw stiffens as he finds the source of the pain. “What has he done to you?” He whispers softly as his fingers trail over the wound on your palm.

...

“Open up princess, I have a gift for you,” Taehyung orders, standing over you as you sit on his desk. Gripping your jaw, while your lips remain sealed in defiance. “I said open.” His hand tightens, forcing your mouth to unfasten and expel a cry of pain. He presses the bloody tip of his finger to your tongue, dragging his index from the back to the front coating it with the thick fluid. “Now swallow.”

Your mouth begins to salivate with the intrusion of his blood. You know if you take it in you will lose everything once again, you’ll lose the will you’ve been building back up to defy him. He is never truly out of your system, you still have gaps in yourself, but the need to disobey always has its way of creeping back to you first. To be forced back into obedience within your own body and mind is nothing short of torture.

You refuse to allow him to drag you back to the dark willingly, spitting your saliva along with his blood into his smug expression.

Taehyung chuckles darkly as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right my princess. How could I think that only a drop would be enough to dispel your greed? You deserve more.”

This time he bites into his hand allowing the blood to pool, while the other takes hold of your neck. The dripping flesh of his palm covers your gasping mouth. Your head is tilted back by his grasp as the blood drains down the back of your throat.

“You will keep this down. You will accept my control. Every time you look at yourself you will think of me. When you close your eyes you will dream of me, for you can not run away only toward. You will remember nothing before me, and nothing before the night I bestow you with this.” His thumb passes over a three month old scar on your neck, continuing to mark it as the cornerstone of the earliest memory you possess.

Every week without fail he reweaves his bonds inside you, tending to them as a doting hunter with a valued prey. He takes his fill of you in between, sometimes it’s only a taste and others a full meal. Treating his desk as a dining table and you the feast, placing you down upon it for his consumption.

“I will have to leave you weak in the knees today princess if I must go without you for a fortnight.” His finger catches a drop of blood that escapes your mouth running it back along your lips before his hand moves away and down, trailing deep red lines down the skin of your jaw and neck. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are some pressing matters which I must attend to.” He portrays a look of sorrow, but you know better than to believe that he can possess a single human emotion. “You’ll be good while I’m gone won’t you? Shall I give you something to remember me by? Another mark unhealed for you to see? You can watch as it slowly means, knowing that I’ll be back to tear you open again.”

He lifts your hand to his face with his own bloody fingers. How you wish you could slap him away, but your body refuses to move on your behalf, after consuming his blood it yields only to him.

He does not hesitate before sinking his teeth into the base of your palm. Matching his own wound that he inflicted on himself, but as yours grows deeper, his begins to heal. He takes a long draft before releasing in a pant. Your blood acts like a drug to his system, making him as he so often puts it, ‘Feel alive again.’

He wipes his palm on yours allowing the breach to clot, he doesn’t mend it completely, instead leaving the painful imprint of his teeth, branding you anew, just as promised. “Appetizer, now entree Princess,” he mutters as he moves on, shifting to cradle your head and neck in his arms. You attempt to pull away, but that only forces him to issue the command, “Stay still.”

His face hovers over the pulse of your neck, with you now frozen beneath. His fangs are careful not to dive too deep, retracting just as the blood begins to trickle from your throat. It collects in the well of your collar and trails down your chest, seeping beneath the bodice of your dress. The white fabric of your garment starts to bloom with scarlet. He could have chosen a gown of darker cloth for your personal wear, one that would be less prone to display the gruesome patterns of his actions, but he prefers to see the art of your suffering, your clothes and body becoming a canvas for his great masterpiece. He mutters how beautiful it looks while his fingers add to the display, painting a ruby-red choker around your neck using the blood as a stain.

His eyes linger taking in the sight before he moves in again to collect the flow, lapping it off your skin like a beast amidst a drought. You cringe as his tongue crosses your flesh, relentless in its desire to gather every drop it can. And just when you think he’s finished it makes another pass, accompanied by a growl and another sharp nip.

Unlike your hand, he completely remedies the gash on your neck, leaving only the one scar upon your throat from his first feeding. The loss starts to hit you, your skin turning cold like his, your breathing shallow, and your pulse quick. You hope that might be the end, that he has had his fill and needs no more, but his hand then fastens on your leg having pushed up the hem of your skirt and thin petticoat. “Let me in princess, I still have room left for dessert.” His teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh mapping his preferred spot from your pained twitches.

You whimper as he clamps down for his last bite. The only solace you can take is that he will not be here for two weeks. You have more time without him feeding, time to gain back control, and time to escape. You stare off to the woven tapestry map behind him, not knowing where to go but longing to be anywhere but here.

...

“D-don’t call me that.” Your demand catches and cracks at the back of your throat.

“But it’s what you are-”

“I am not his dinner, I am not his slave, and I am most certainly not his princess! I will not go back. If you have any mercy, please... drain me here. For I am far more willing to meet death, than I am to see him again. ”

To your confusion he looks shocked that you would even suggest such an act. He takes a moment before looking into your eyes with a narrowed gaze, “You don’t remember anything do you? It’s not just me you’ve forgotten.”

You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes, “I remember nothing before him.”

The vampire holds what’s left of the iron shackle in his hands, bending it apart with only his grip, freeing you from it’s clutches.

There's another sigh from him as he takes the space on the saddle behind you. His body is uncomfortably close to yours, with his breath on your neck, and arms wrapped on either side to take the reins. “And I thought he could sink no lower...” He urges the horse forward with a nudge and a few mumbled words far too low for you to hear. “You are right, you are not his meal, nor his property, but it is not simply a given moniker to which I am referring, it’s what you are. You are the only living heir of a human kingdom just east of here.”

“You lie, there is no way I could be,” This is just another game of his. It has to be. “If I am what you say, how could I have ended up where I was?”

“You went missing, disappearing from your bed in the night. Your people assume that you were kidnapped, that you were taken by a monster, not knowing what we are. But I assure you, you are the lost pr-” He stops as you stiffen once again. “I can take you home, back to your family, back to your people, if that’s what you wish.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I broke a promise long ago, I plan to remedy that mistake.”

“I fail to see how that applies to me.” You mutter as you slump down in the saddle, no longer fighting your current fate. This vampire too can easily overpower you, he can take you wherever he desires to go, but as long as it’s away from Taehyung you have no wishes to slow him down.

He pulls a skin of water from his horse’s pack offering it to you. Your dry mouth wants to empty it in one swig, but the possibility of what else it could contain holds you back. You turn your nose up instead fearing that he’s drugged it with his own blood.

“I have not tampered with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You keep assuming your words carry weight with me. I will need more than that if I am to drink this.”

“If I intended to manipulate you with blood I would have done so already instead of fighting to get you on the horse.”

He’s right, it would have been far easier. You take a careful sip rolling over your tongue, trying to detect even the slightest taste of iron before your swallow.

He holds out food too, in the form of a few pieces of dried meat. Your mouth waters at the sight. The unaltered drink gives you the confidence to abandon your worries and take it, asking more questions while you eat. “You said I forgot you, but how was it that I knew you Yoo-” You pause trying to recall the name he led with when he found you.

“Yoongi.”

You wait for more but he doesn’t continue, after swallowing your current mouthful you press further. “Are you not going to tell me?”

“It would be better if you remembered.”

“You expect me to trust you, but then you hide truths?”

“I expect you to trust me because I want you to recall your truth of our encounters, not mine. When you do I will gladly discuss it with you, but not until then.” His tone is stern, boasting an air of finality to his argument.

You huff back in frustration. “Can you at least tell me how long you’ve known me?”

“More than ten years now, you were a child of fourteen when we first met.”

“So you must know my name? My real name?” You ask with near excitement, hoping it might stir up some of your past within you.

“I do.” But as he recalls it, whispering the name for you to hear, nothing happens. You thought when you heard it again that everything would come back all at once like a spell broken by one magical word. But the name that comes from Yoongi’s lips has no meaning to you, no memory, no warmth. It bestows only a cold emptiness, a fear that you’ll never quite be able to bind yourself together with the person who bore that name before.

...

Hours later Yoongi pulls his horse off the path and into the woods, trotting down what looks to be an overgrown trail. You finally come to a stop in front of a mound, backed by an elevation of stone and earth, bearing a small cave-like entrance.

“What is this?”

“An old mining site. We’ll have to stop here for now.” Yoongi helps you down off the horse before removing the tackle and taking the large pack, he ties his steed up with a long lead on a grassy patch. Once finished you follow him through the dark and into the cavern, lagging a few paces behind with your legs stiff and sore from the night’s travel.

“But there’s still another hour or two until the sunrise. Why stop here?”

“Because this is the last dark space that’s marked for the next fifteen miles.” He opens one of the bags pulling out a lantern, he lights it, dousing the cold and damp walls of the cave in a warm glow. Taking out a thick piece of paper next, he unfolds it with careful precision, laying it gently across a leather pack. He acts as though it’s a precious heirloom passed on to him from a loved one long gone. Your heart starts to race upon realization that it’s a map, and how with it’s aid you’d be able to find your own way home.

Dark circles on the heavy parchment denote what according to the key is a resting spot. He opens it further pointing to both your current position and destination, your fingers tracing over a kingdom which he says is yours. With still three times the distance you’ve travelled yet to traverse, much of your contentment fades.

Despite the blow to your morale, you continue your examination of the map, hoping to learn as much from it as you can. It’s beautifully intricate and precisely made, the only flaw is an ink smudge in the lower left hand corner, which appears to be a faint mirror image of the compass rose on the right. Likely the result of the map being folded before the ink had completely dried. You run your index over the blot feeling much the same. A partial imprint of your past life, and a great distance away from what you must have been.

Yoongi watches you with a keen eye as you attempt to commit your future route to memory. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

“No, I remember nothing of this land.” Not the names of rivers or cities return to you. How can you call a place home if you know nothing of it? “Thank you for your assistance. I know you have to stop, but after seeing this I feel that I should keep going.” You offer cordially, praying that he’ll agree to parting ways here.

“Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until the sun sets, and we’ll continue together.”

“Why should I? If the sun is out I’m not at risk from vampires.”

“It is still a while before we reach your kingdom. You can see that can’t you? At least two more nights where you would be alone if I let you leave. Not to mention the risk from your own brethren. You haven’t been among other humans enough to know that they can be just as malicious.”

“Then give me your horse and I’ll out ride them.”

“When was the last time you rode a horse on your own?” He asks lowering his brow, scoffing as his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek.

“I-I...” Naturally you can’t remember, and he knows it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes of course you’ll be fine, it’s not like there will be vampires nipping at your heels the whole way home. Do you know I could smell the blood trailing from your feet a mile away? I can’t imagine they are in a good state. If the horse were to unseat you and run off, would you even be able to continue?”

You wince at the thought of treading forward on foot. The blisters are already a source of great agony, it’s painful to think what they would be like after another mile or two.

Yoongi notices the show of discomfort in your face, “Looks like you’ll be staying with me then your highness.”

“I’d rather not...” You're grateful he’s stopped calling you by the other title, but that still doesn’t prove his loyalty. “Why are you so insistent on taking me home? What’s in this for you?”

“Your company.”

“I am serious,” you groan, casting a dark glare back at him over the candle light.

“So am I.” He mutters his response, it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

“You are insufferable! I should be taking advantage of the daylight, I should be putting more distance between myself and his prison. You should have left me there in the forest so I wouldn’t have to deal with your so-called assistance.”

“Forgive me for wanting to keep you alive and safe. It must be truly awful to have someone come to your aid.”

“You are not someone, you’re a vampire,” you bite back against his sarcasm. “I take no pleasure in being in the company of your kind.”

Yoongi sighs looking defeated, following it with an odd request. “Give me your hand, the one with the wound.”

“Why?” You clutch your palm to your chest in defence.

“I’ll mend it properly for you, your heels too if you’d like. I want to help undo the damage that my kind has done to you. He should never have left you scarred like that.”

“He shouldn’t have fed off me in the first place!” You shout back your voice echoing off the walls.

“You’re right,” Yoongi levels with you. “But I can’t imagine you want to keep it.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want help from you! I would rather carry this than any more of your poison. So you can keep your blood to yourself.”

“As you wish,” Yoongi responds, yet he still shifts towards you, encouraging you to back away and keep the space between you.

“I’m not going to...” His tone sounds exasperated but soon changes to a softer register as he looks at your terror ladened face. “Just, take this.” Yoongi passes over a bed roll before pulling one out for himself from the woven pack.

You stare at the bedding, questioning it, the convenience of such an item along with supplies all seem too good to be true. “Why would someone who travels alone have a second? Why would a vampire have a stash of water he can’t drink, and food he can’t eat?”

“I brought them for you. I knew you would need them on the journey.” His answer comes off as thoughtful, but the explanation still doesn’t sit right with you, surely there can be no rational reason as to why he was so ready for your escape.

“You expect me to swallow your perfect timing? That you just happened to be in the right place at the right time, ready to play the role of saviour-”

“Who said the timing was perfect? It has been anything but ideal,” Yoongi growls cutting you off. “I have been trying to get you back ever since I learned that you were taken. But we have limitations that prevented me from just storming his castle. A vampire can not enter the home of another without permission. I tried to get you, believe me I did. While you were trapped inside for five years, I was kept outside for just as long. But I have always been prepared to leave with you at a moment's notice.”

You were ready to continue your argument again just as he was to finish, but one of his last reveals disarms you with an all too unpleasant fact. “H-how long did you just say?”

“Five years?”

“No... that’s not possible, I can’t remember more than a few months.”

“Prin- your highness.” Yoongi catches himself as you turn to panic.

“Please don’t tell me that he held me for years.” You panicked whispers become sobbing pleas, you would gladly take the lie now. The thought of more tortures of imprisonment lying just below the surface of your memory is enough to make you want to do away with your entire past. Blindly tossing it all away and building it all anew, if only it worked that way.

“It’s been years, I’m so sorry, but you’ve been with- you’ve been missing for half a decade.”

“Why? Why would he take that too?” You whisper stand up clutching the scar on your neck, the mark you thought to be the first was likely a only a sequel to many. How many more lie hidden in your skin, healed and masked his blood? Feeling a pull to leave, you stumble towards the mining shaft’s entrance, unable to take another minute beside a monster who could do the same. Yoongi grabs you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to prevent you from progressing any further outside. You strain against him determined to go back out into the open air. “No, let me go.”

“I can’t do that, your highness.”

You turn into him pushing against his chest as you shout. “Let me go Yoongi.” He doesn’t stop you from shoving, or cursing him out. He just stands there holding tight as you take out your loss on him.

“If I were to do that his hunters would find you,” Yoongi warns. “Is that what you want? Because I’m not ready to lose you to him again...” The last of his sentiment drifts off as if he’s said too much. His grip loosens to the point where you can slip away. As much as you want to turn out and run towards the sun he’s right, you can't risk losing another five years or maybe more. He nods down to the bed roll abandoned on the ground. “You should get some rest, you’ll need it for the journey tomorrow.”

You obey, taking the bedding and lantern, wandering back farther into the cave and further away from the vampire. Slipping off your boots you find the cloth you had wedged in earlier caked with blood. You glance over to your nocturnal companion seeing if the reveal had any effect on him, but he’s already lying down, his back towards you, paying no attention. Desperate to dispose of the temptation you hold the two strips of fabric above the lantern flame. Fortunately they are dry enough to burn, leaving only ashen traces of the linen scraps. You redress your wounds with more fabric from your garment, but before curling under the blankets for the day you take one last precaution. With numerous broken branches littering the floor of the cave, you take the most jagged and sturdy, tucking in by your side. The sharp twig is not quite a stake, but a better defence than nothing at all.

...

Even after travelling all day and night with little rest it takes an age for you to fall asleep, not because of the hard ground, not due to the pain in your legs, nor the questionable motives of your new guard, but the knowledge of who you’ll see once you do. Although Taehyung’s blood has lost control of your physical movements, his hold on your mind is still tight. You know you’ll see him when you drift off, but your exhaustion is unwavering and your need of rest undeniable.

It seems like only moments after you close your eyes that you’re reunited. He lies there beside you back in his castle, with his own eyes closed, his face content with a small smile as though he’s just fed. But on this night, something’s different. You finally feel as though you have the power to fight back against him. The stake you had stolen from his collection, and promptly lost to the forest, found again by your side. You’ve always wanted this moment, taking vengeance on the one who put you through hell. Even if it is only a dream you’ll embrace it though reality.

Mere inches away from his chest your hand is stopped by his. His eyes fly open and he tackles you back. “Killing me won’t grant you freedom, it won’t stop others from coming for you.”

“Then let them come,” you sneer back at him. “For any life without you Taehyung will be a vast improvement, no matter how short or perilous.”

There’s a quizzical look on his face, his thumb pushing into your palm trying to get you to realise the stake, “Wake up your highness, it’s not what you think.”

You are pulled from the dream to find yourself with your pitiful excuse for a weapon in hand. Pointing it at Yoongi’s heart as he hovers over you. You drop it quickly, and attempt to slide out from beneath him out of fear of retaliation. “I thought you were him.”

He places a heavy hand on your shoulder preventing any further retreat on your part. “I figured that to be the case. Do you have these dreams often?” His tone is not angry, but concerned.

You relax with his understanding, “Every night, he made sure it was so.”

“I know it won’t mend the past, but I’m sorry... for what he’s done to you.”

“I’m sorry I attacked you...”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Yoongi admits with a curling smile on his lips. “If I looked at myself and saw Taehyung I would respond in the same manner.”

You let out a small chuckle, leading to a surprised expression on Yoongi’s face. His smirk soon turns into a sad smile. “I want you to know, when you are with me, you are safe. No one will feed from you, no one will touch you, myself included.”

...

You wake to the sound of a raven in the early evening, the deep croaks of the bird carrying through the mine. Keeping your head down you glance with narrowed eyes to spy on the vampire who currently ties a small roll of parchment to the leg of the dark creature. It waits patiently on his knee until the knot is firmly in place, letting out another loud cry once Yoongi’s hand retreats.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting more then?” Yoongi takes his index, and presses it down onto one of his sharp teeth, allowing a bead of blood to form on the tip. The raven then takes his finger into his beak and tilts his head back as it feeds on the red droplets. You start to gag at the sight, alerting Yoongi to your awakened state. The bird takes flight as your escort gets up to check on you, but as he comes closer you draw back. He pauses after his first couple steps, and asks from a distance instead. “Are you alright?”

“Why did you feed it your blood?” You heave again at the thought, but with little in your stomach there is nothing to come up.

“He’s delivering a letter for me. The blood is his reward; it keeps him healthy, but it also allows me to convey where he needs to go and who he needs to find.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“The raven is more than happy to take it as payment for his service. But I know of what you mean, when the exchange is done improperly...” Yoongi pauses as another wave of nausea overwhelms you again, “Forgive me, I thought you were asleep, I didn’t know you would be watching.”

“What were you sending?”

“Notice to my clan. I left my surveillance post, they will wish to know why.”

“Will that be a problem?” You hadn’t considered groups other than Taehyung’s, but if you can avoid interaction with them all the better.

“No, returning you home will be a greater blow to Taehyung. He has likely built a dependence on your blood and without you he’ll be left in a far weaker state. We might finally have a chance to diminish his hold on the region.” Yoongi takes a brief glance to the entrance and starts to pack away his supplies. “You should ready yourself to leave. The sun is almost down.”

You climb out from your bed roll to find that in the night the blood had seeped through the new makeshift bandage. Yoongi clenches his teeth, and makes another offer. “Please just let me heal them, you'll only need a drop.”

“That’s one drop too much.” You move back unsure if you should be more worried about Taehyung’s men tracking you down, or the more current and looming threat of the vampire in front of you. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” “No,” he confirms, however there’s a slight hesitation in his answer. “But you should go wash up before you lose all daylight, there’s a river just down hill.” He takes a kerchief from his pocket and places it on a rock between you. “You can have this if you’d like. I don’t have any bandages to offer, other than the treatment you find so distasteful.”

You reach out and grab it. “You won’t be getting this back.” You eye him darkly.

“That’s fine, just go clean them off before others who may be nearby take note of your aroma.” You observe him with caution, hesitating to pass by his threatening mouth to get to that of the cave’s. “Unless you want to stay and watch me eat.” He comments as he pulls out another soft flask which he carries in his jacket. You cringe as he holds in what is likely a stolen meal.

“What?” He fires back at your critical glare.

“Do you drain all your victims into wine skins, or just those you wish to save for later?”

“The one who gave me this was not my victim. They were willing to part with it.”

“Willing?” You scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure you did not slip them some of your own blood first?”

“No I did not, but if you have a problem with how I conduct my feedings you only have yourself to blame.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Now hurry, so we can make use of this night.”

You do just that, darting past him you leave the mine heading down to the river in the fading sunlight.

...

As you return Yoongi is already outside and packing the horse. With his back to you he pulls an apple from the saddle bag, and the horse turns his head towards the treat with it’s mouth open and reaching. He pulls it back and away from the creature, “I know, I know this should have been yours, but you’ve had enough grass and she needs food. Do you mind sharing?” You watch as he rubs his steed behind the ear and it gives up on it’s want for the fruit. “Thanks, next one is yours, I promise.”

“Am I to thank you or the horse for my meal?” You call out to the vampire.

“You may thank him if you like.” Yoongi hands off the apple to you as you approach.

You can’t help smile as you stand in front of the massive and beautiful stallion letting him smell the back of your hand before you reach you pet the star on his forehead. “What is his name?”

“Horse...” Yoongi admits.

“Horse? Surely you jest. Why would you not give him a proper name?”

“He went for so long without one it just stuck.” Yoongi responds as he tightens the girth of the saddle. “What would you have named him?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly not horse. You poor beast, first he deprives you of a suitable name, then an apple.” You take a few bites but with your stomach still queasy and unable to take anymore, you give the rest to the poorly named steed. Once the bridle and tackle are secure you mount up despite the instant outcry from your legs. You find Yoongi watching you, taking notice but remaining silent. You’re grateful for his lack of discourse, not wanting to have to explain the tenderness of your ass and thighs owing to yesterday’s travel.

Regrettably, the aches become worse, and after only a couple hours of riding you’re barely able to stay upright. If Yoongi’s arms weren’t circling around you to keep hold of the reins you would have slid to the ground long ago. It seems that he’s no longer able to disregard your comfort though. “Are you well?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.” You whisper holding in a groan.

“Relative to what?”

“Relative to a week ago.” To your time with Taehyung. You grimace further with each mounted stride.

“I think your scale is skewed. We’ll slow for a bit. Though you might think differently, I have no desire to see you in pain.” He slows his steed to a walk and dismounts, letting you lean back as he leads the horse forward.

“This is nothing I promise. We should keep the pace up.”

“You wish to be rid of me so soon? Even if it causes you agony?”

“Yes.” Your short reply is enough to make him pause for a second, his face splitting into an open smirk before he continues again.

“Though I appreciate your honesty, the horse could use a break too.” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “You’ll have to learn how to hold that tongue of yours again once you return to court.”

You take in a sharp breath as a chill runs down your spine. You’ve been so focused on what you are running from you haven’t given thought as what you are running too. “Do you know much about my family, about my life back home?”

“Some.”

“You said I was the last remaining heir. There must have been a time when that wasn’t the case.”

“Your brother...” Yoongi explains, his gaze fixed on the road. “He passed away a few weeks ago. He was very ill, had been all his life.”

You take a deep breath as you register the news, but it’s hard to properly grieve when you can’t recall what you lost. “I wish I could remember-”

Yoongi must be taking pity on you as he delves further without your prompting. “You loved him very much, but you weren’t as close as you would have liked to have been. His ailment was unknown to many and it prevented him from spending much time with you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you told me.” He whispers, finally meeting your eyes again.

“Wh-what else do you know? Will you tell me?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Give it time and you’ll remember on your own. His hold won’t last forever.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t say more.”

“Because I don’t want to give you a false sense of your past, only to find out later that it was different than I thought, than I hoped. Your affection for your brother was obvious, but with other focuses of your adoration I cannot be sure. So please do not ask much of me. You’ve gone through enough, I have no wish to plant false regard for things you did not actually love.” While Yoongi continues to look up to you his expression takes a sudden shift. His nose lifts into the air and takes a deep breath, before his head snaps back at the road ahead. “Humans... four of them.”

Your heart leaps at the prospect, but Yoongi cuts your anticipation short. “Don’t get too hopeful. They are currently trying to conceal themselves on the path ahead. I doubt their motives are well intended.” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out from your cap. “Stay on the horse and keep quiet. I’ll deal with them.”

“But-”

“For your own safety, please do what I ask.”

The trees growing around the road are thick and dense, your eyes dart between the trunks in hopes to catch movement, but with the forest cloaked in darkness you have little ability to find anything. Minutes pass and just as you are about to question Yoongi, you spot a man with tattered clothes lying in the middle of the dirt road ahead. Thinking he might be a victim of the others mentioned, you make an attempt to dismount. But Yoongi holds your hand firmly on the reins, while he calls out to the casualty. “The wounded traveller? Do people still fall for that?”

There’s a moment of silence before a man emerges from the forest to the left. “You’d be surprised,” he responds, while two more appear on the right.

The destitute wayfarer on the road gets up and dusts himself off. “It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our ploy, it’s much easier both for us and those who do, so much less blood. You look to be worth the effort though. I’m sure we could fetch a pretty penny for a steed like that.”

The four close in ranks and advance. Yoongi stays by your side, eyeing their approach, he gives a warning. “For your sake, I hope there will be no blood involved.”

“Is that a threat?” One of the highwaymen asks. “I should like to see how you plan on besting us without a blade.

The man closest to you, with a dagger drawn, reaches out to grab hold of your leg. “Come down off the horse lad. There's no point in putting off the inevitable, it’s ours now.” In spite of his weapon you ready to kick the man off, but before your foot can lay into him his grip is torn away. In the blink of an eye Yoongi is on the other side of the horse forcing the assailant to his knees with an arm behind his back. There’s a loud pop from the thief’s shoulder, resulting in a cry of pain. One of the other bandits charges to free his ally, his sword ready. Yoongi succeeds in dodging the initial thrust of the steel, and with one hand takes the saber, turning it instead on it’s owner. Your vampire escort issues another caution with the point at man’s throat.

“If you would like your friend to keep use of his arm then I suggest you all back away.” While the disarmed thief retreats backward with his hands in the air, the rest are frozen in place refusing to move. “You think I jest?” Yoongi’s grip tightens while his captive lets out a shout. The little effort used on the vampires part to make the man submit finally prompts his fellows to take two steps back. “I swore to my companion that no one would touch them on this journey. You’ve made me break that promise, and I am not pleased.” There’s a deep growl to his voice that sends chills through even you. “I should take this limb in payment, and maybe one from each in your party too.”

“Yoongi....” You whisper in a low tone.

He turns back to you with a slight smirk. “But you are lucky, my friend prefers mercy. It’s far more than you deserve.” Yoongi lowers his head muttering into the bandits ear. “I’ll tell you what. You may keep your arm, but you and your men will abandon your camp, head south and keep walking. You will tell no one of us, and if I ever come across your path again I will not hesitate to act on my threats.”

Yoongi releases the man allowing him to scramble away as he clutches his shoulder. The other three support their injured cohort as they run off.

Yoongi takes hold of the horse from the ground once again, leading you off the road. “Their camp it’s just this way. They might have had some supplies which will be of use to us.”

You only nod in response unsure of what to say, after what you just witnessed. The first humans you had interacted with in years, and here they intended to rob you.

The smoke of their smouldering fire draws you in. Yoongi’s hunch was right, they had a good deal of useful items. Rations for you, along with spare changes of clothes. He fills a bag and ties it on the saddle, leaving their stolen riches along with the blade behind for someone else to find.

He mounts up behind you again, carrying on forward for some time before speaking again. “Are you well your highness? You’ve been very quiet.”

You give him another nod, while chewing on your lip. “Why south?”

“That’s where my own clan’s territory lies. If they try to pull something like that again they’ll regret it.” He shifts in the saddle behind you, “Back there, I-I didn't scare you did I?”

You fall silent again, unable to confess he somewhat had, but also that the terror of your fellow mankind outweighed his by far. You fear the idea of having crossed them alone. They would have taken advantage of your mercy, who knows where you would be now if it weren’t for the self-proclaimed guard at your side.

Yoongi seems to take your lack of answer as confirmation of his worry. “I needed them to see me as a vicious monster, had they not backed off I would have had to become one. I’m sorry you had to witness the threat but it was necessary. I needed to terrify them for their sake and yours. I promise didn’t intend to frighten you, only to keep you safe. ”

...

Coming close to the break of day you find rest this time in a small abandoned house. The windows shuttered completely to prevent even the smallest stream of light from entering. Unlike the night before Yoongi doesn’t light the lantern. It’s so dark inside that he has to lead you to an empty space of floor for you to rest on. He takes a couple steps away, giving you some space before settling down himself once again between you and the door.

“I’m not going to run, you’ve made your point, or I should say the thieves did.”

“I don’t rest between you and the exit to keep you here, but to stop others from entering,” Yoongi explains. “These spots I’ve scoped out, I am not alone in using them. They are how my kind travels, some might have found different places to rest away from the sun, but I can tell that others have used this location. Don’t go examining your surroundings too closely, you might not like what you find.”

Now thankful for the darkness, you take your bed roll from Yoongi. “Rest easy,” he mutters as you climb in between in the blankets.

“Not likely,” you whisper back. “But thank you.”

Unfortunately you are correct, your sleep is once again disturbed by Taehyung. You catch a glimpse of his face before you're surrounded by him. The darkness holds you in a suffocating grip, your mouth slowly filling with blood. You struggle trying to breath reaching out to take a hold of anything that would pull you out.

A hand grabs on to the side of your face, another on to your arm. Finding the shine of Yoongi’s eyes once you're able to open your own, you gasp out to him begging for some sort of relief. “Can’t see... can’t breath...”

He picks you up only to set you back down on the floor a second later. There's a click and the front door opens to reveal a narrow shaft of sunlight. A single beam a couple inches wide, but it’s enough to dispel the darkness inside. Your eyes start to water, blinded by the light, but it’s far too warm and comforting to deny yourself the sight.

To your disgust there’s a lingering taste of blood in your mouth. Reminding you of the shackles that still bind you to Taehyung as it continues to overwhelm your senses. Yoongi’s voice flows from the darkness just to the side of the door, his eyes glowing like that of a predator’s. “I think you might have bitten your tongue in your sleep, your highness.”

He’s right, you find a sore spot as you press it to the roof of your mouth. You make an attempt to focus back on the sun. You sit there in silence letting your breath and heart return to a normal rate. All while Yoongi’s eyes continue to watch you, burning in the darkness. He apologizes for his gaze, but does not withdraw his attention, “Sorry but it’s been so long since I’ve seen someone bask in the sun. I’ve forgotten what it feels like myself...”

“How long?”

“I lost count around the century mark, but it’s likely been double that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes, but I understand. Immortality is a large price to pay, and every monster must have an equal weakness.”

“But I suppose, not everything it repels is a monster.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow as if he’s hiding a small smile in the darkness. “Dare I say, that sounds almost like a compliment?”

“Merely an observation,” you whisper, but your words trigger something inside you, a pain and longing which you can’t explain. “Yoongi, what were we to one another before...” Before Taehyung interrupted your life. “Please I know you don’t wish to speak for me, but I need to know your view of what we were.”

“We were friends, just friends.” He responds but you're not convinced, just friends do not wait outside the home of their enemy for five years. Just friends don’t put their entire life on hold for another. Just friends aren’t overwhelmed with the desires that seem to be returning to you now.

You’ve seen this expression on him before, you know you have. On the edge of your memories lies a dark cavernous stone built hall, one in which only you and him resided. You find him crumbling under the weight of what he is and what he’s lost because of that. Fragments of your words and his surface in your mind.

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here... You would be better off if you forgot me entirely.”

You remember your wish to comfort him, to embrace him and prove that he has not lost everything because of what he is. With the recollection fading, falling from your grasp, you panic out of fear of losing the brief moment of memory. Closing the door you move towards Yoongi, the only focus you have of your previous life, hoping the scene in your mind might continue.

“I don’t need saving from you,” you mutter, blinded by the rapid loss of light, reaching out in an attempt to find him again.

He takes your hand and holds it, his cool fingers trailing soothing lines over the mark on your palm. “If not from me, then at least from my kind,” he responds, following the path of your dialogue from long before. “You remember our last meeting?”

“Only a fraction of it. I remember wanting to...” To confess to him, to kiss him, that was your past self was leaning towards. You thought well enough of him to desire an intimacy with one who feeds on others... that can’t be right. But even now you can start to see the appeal your younger self cared for. His soft touch on your hand, his calming presence, and protection, those are not qualities of a monster. And in the memory you were worried that he would reject your affection, that he would be the one to pull away, not you. “Did you ever desire to be more than friends?”

His eyes grow wide at your question, but his stance remains the same. “You know I will not answer that.”

“But this is regarding your feelings, not my own!”

“I will say no more of us. I’ve told you far too much already.” He leaves the topic at that, directing you to your present state instead. ”There’s a few more hours before sunset... do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shake your head and move to sit with your back against the boards of the wall. Your reply is slow to come, and muddled with the first gasp of tears. “I can’t...” The prospect of closing your eyes again is too terrifying.

Yoongi comes to sit beside you, as he continues to hold your hand, his other arm wraps your shoulders as you let out the pain. A couple of hours ago you would have pushed him away out of fear, but with the spark of your past self craving his presence, who are you to deny the support it needs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I have to keep my view from you. I don’t want to add to the damage that has been done.”

“There is not more damage that could be done. All I have to remember is a few months spent in agony and terror. How can I find comfort or rest when that is all I have? I have no knowledge of who or what made me happy, or of what dreams chased away the nightmares.”

“An adventure,” Yoongi mutters, his head bowed to the floor as he concedes with another part of your past. “You always dreamed of having an adventure.”

You let out a broken and weeping scoff, crestfallen that your ambitions to learn more only exposed a further divide. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Your parents were overprotective, because of your brother's condition. You were forced to keep to the castle, you just longed for something different.” His thumb rubs along the back of your hand as he holds it.

“But I don’t feel like one to see the risk of adventures as desirable.”

“You’ve been through much since then, fear has a way of changing what we want. I will admit I wished for you to be more careful back then, but never at a cost like this.”

“I don’t know if I will ever be that person again...” You draw your knees to your chest letting your head lull to the side and onto him.

“That’s okay,” His arm grips you tighter, as his face lowers to the top of your head. His lips briefly brush against your hair, before his cheek comes down to rest, taking their place. “That’s why I’m taking you home.”

...

#bts smut #yandere bts #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts vampire au #yandere taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #suga x reader #v x reader #bts blood bounty

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yonkimint · 3 years

Text

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

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When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long.

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit.

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat.

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon.

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not.

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing.

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives.

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down.

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments.

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway.

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line.

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks.

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one.

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon.

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar.

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands.

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet.

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page.

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him.

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls.

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus.

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working.

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren.

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch.

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish.

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him.

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him.

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks.

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before.

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

my virtues uncounted (5)

warnings: blood & injury, arguing, villain remus mention

It felt like all the air left the room as Anxiety went limp.

Roman stepped forwards, clenching and unclenching his fists as though he could somehow fight what just happened. Everything had been fine for a heartbeat, and then they’d turned around and found that their escape hadn’t come without a cost.

“It’ll be fine, right?” Patton asked, eyes flickering between them, voice high and reedy with uncertainty. “He’ll reform, and wake up here, and we can-- we can make it up to him!”

“His room won’t shift so easily,” Logan countered, still sitting there next to the other Side’s unresponsive form. His hands were tacky with blood. “He’s been here for… scarcely seconds. If-- when he discorporates, he’ll likely return to his room in the subconscious. Thomas’s mind might perceive this as a-- a repelled intrusion, some kind of defeated attack. It’s possible our decision to allow his presence could be reversed entirely.”

Another beat of silence. If this continued, everything would return to the status quo. It was the perfect answer to their earlier problem, the sort of solution that Roman would have seized with both hands only hours ago, but looking at Anxiety now-- still, small, covered in blood-- he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

“No. No,” Patton shook his head stubbornly. “There has to be something we can do!”

“We couldn’t even heal a superficial scratch before.” Logan sounded numb, already defeated. “Our excess energy is still all but depleted. There’s simply no way we can heal an injury of this magnitude.”

The words struck a chord in Roman’s mind, his gaze dancing to and fro for a moment before lighting up. He snapped, drawing everyone’s attention. “Size! That’s it, the size is the solution!”

Neither of the others understood at first, still mired in the desolation of the moment. Patton went as far as to shake his head, looking more mournful by the second.

“Changing a wound like this counts as healing, Ro, big or small… We barely have enough energy to maintain our forms, we can’t…”

“Not the size of the injury,” Roman corrected, his eyes glittering, “and not our energy.”

He paused dramatically, and Logan’s head snapped up, some familiar tension returning to his frame.

“The size of the Side,” he said, and Roman was excited enough that he only nodded along, graciously allowing Logan to steal his thunder and explain. “If the repressed half of Thomas’s creativity can reduce our sizes and cut off our connection to the other half of the mind, logically, it follows that Roman should be able too as well.”

“Yes, exactly!” Roman cried, grinning triumphantly. “And with the excess energy leftover…”

“He can be healed,” Logan finished with a faint, disbelieving smile of his own.

“We’re doing what Remus was doing?” Patton asked, torn between hope and concern. “Isn’t this… trapping him?”

Both Roman’s smile and his heart dropped, hurt despite himself.

“Anything my brother can do, I can do better,” he defended, crossing his arms as though to protect his idea. “We’re preventing him from waking up next door to the guy who stabbed him. Did you see how angry Remus was?”

Something about his brother had been more frantic, more frayed at the edges than usual. He shuddered, exaggerating the motion so the others wouldn’t see just how real it was. “Anxiety will thank us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Logan said, still somewhat subdued. “Recall how it felt for you to be tiny and stuck in unknown territory. Factor in his nature as Anxiety, and it becomes likely that he will be defensive and upset.”

“Specs, come on--!”

“I’m not against it,” Logan continued, cutting off Roman’s argument before it could even form. “Objectively, that is still better than him being dead. This way, there is still a Side present for us to prove our good intentions to.”

Roman turned to Patton. “Pat?”

Patton looked between the three of them, trying to decide what to do, what was right. Roman met his gaze firmly, certain that this was the best choice.

“This is what we can do,” he said, extending a hand palm-up. “Let me do it?”

The heart finally nodded, his face settling into something determined as he grabbed Roman's hand. “Okay. Save him, Ro.”

Roman squeezed his hand once and released it, quickly dropping to his knees by Anxiety’s side. Time had slowed, the way it always seemed to when they started arguing, but even at a decreased rate, the effects of the wound were severe.

He pressed his palms over Anxiety’s heart, inches above the all-too-realistic gore of the gut wound, and reached for the feeling of Anxiety-- the core of him.

This, more than anything else, spoke volumes as to how far gone Anxiety already was. Any Side would put up a fight if someone was messing with their core, but Anxiety was part of Thomas’s Self Preservation. If he’d had even a scrap of consciousness left in him, he should have been fighting this tooth and nail.

The fact that Roman could even sense his core’s location, let alone pull it closer, was chilling.

He took a deep breath, time passing once more, and Anxiety went foggy at the edges, like dust particles swirling in the light. It looked close enough to discorporation to make Patton whimper, but Roman’s hands were steady as they plunged into the other side’s chest. He made a slow scooping motion, drawing in and condensing that essence into a new shape.

He didn’t need anything extra for this. Shapeshifting, conjuring, imagining-- they would always come easy to him. Creation was his core function, and he would make this work.

When he lifted his hands, they came cradled around a miniature Anxiety.

The energy that used to be a full-sized side automatically tried to disperse into nothing, tried to return to Anxiety’s room and begin the slow process of reforming. Seeing as Roman held the most vital part of that process, he immediately pulled the particles from the air.

It felt wrong, almost vampiric to claim the energy for himself, though, so he didn't. Instead, he simply channeled it back into Anxiety, giving it a gentle nudge in the right direction and watching as the damage from Anxiety’s wound was smoothed over.

Finally, he broke away, task done.

“I’ve got him,” he panted, exerted in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time. “He’ll be weak-- that used up a lot of energy, and he didn't have much to begin with-- but he’s alive.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped with relief, and Patton burst into tears and tugged them both close, careful to avoid squishing Roman’s hands or their tiny passenger.

Roman leaned into the hug gratefully, glancing down at the Side tucked between the three of them, taking in the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, and felt the stress of their terrible adventure into the Subconscious finally begin to melt away.

#this is a short chapter sorry T-T #my virtues uncounted #mvu #g/t #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #my writing #writing #sanders sides #alt chapter title: uno reverse card

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rosy-wooyoung · 4 years

Text

[04:38]

pairing: swimming captain! Y/N x rival swimming captain! Yunho genre: enemies-to-lovers (kinda?), suggestive, bad humour word count: 3.5k warning: first time writing something spicy and probably badly written, make-out session, fem!reader, swearing, lots of kissing and touching A/N: please be tolerant, it’s my first time writing something spicy. I hope I did good, I’m open to any constructive criticism 😊 feedback is appreciated :))

You woke up early this morning, ready to go to the swimming pool to practice. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and the dawn sent chills down your spine as the wind blew relentlessly. You grabbed your swimming bag and walked out of the door, zipping up your jacket to your chin and quickly walked to the swimming pool. It was only a few minutes away from your house, it was your only way to go there since the buses weren't operational yet.

When you arrived there, you quickly put on your swimsuit and tidied your stuff in your claimed locker, an essential element since you were a member of the swimming team. As you walked through the door that linked the changing room to the pools, you heard screams and water splashes. You frowned and blinked, the sleepiness remaining in your eyes made your vision slightly blurry. You had forgotten that today, your college was racing against one of the neighbouring towns. And the swimmers were already there, intensely practising as if it was the middle of the day.

You were confused and tired but you put on your cap and goggles anyway. Some swimmers looked down on you, but you couldn’t care less as you lowered yourself in the pool, rolling your eyes to oblivion. You were about to start swimming when someone jumped in the water next to you, giving you a taste of the cold water and the chlorine so early in the morning. You grimaced and sighed, wiping your mouth and shook your head as you recognised the figure emerging from the water.

Jeong Yunho, the captain of the rival swimming team. Your greatest enemy.

“Look who we got here, it’s our lovely captain Y/N,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Training hard?” Even if his words sounded kind, they weren’t. Everything coming out from his mouth had no intention to be nice towards you. You huffed and shook your head, again, sinking in the water and started to swim, slamming your feet against the water, purposefully splashing water on the young man's face.

You let out your frustration while doing your laps, never stopping. You didn’t want to give satisfaction to the rival team to nag you when you rested, degrading you and calling you names. You swam until the chlorine became your new fragrance, the chemical smell invading your nostrils and already drying your skin and scalp. When you allowed yourself to stop and grab your water bottle, you noticed that most of the college students were gone. You checked your wrist and noticed your locker key still hung to it, relieved that none of them will manage to go through your stuff. Sadly, it happened before. You were naive at that time, carelessly leaving your keys lying around. It became a mess to try and get all your stuff back when you found your locker empty, forcing you to walk home barefoot. One of your classmates, Seonghwa, was kind enough to lend you his jacket to cover your swimsuit to go home.

You were breathing deeply, and your thoughts were running in your mind as you blankly stared at the other end of the pool. Checking your pulse out of curiosity, you fixed the clock on the wall with a look and estimated your pulse. It was above average since you had swum so much without taking a break and you cracked your shoulders muscles as you made eye contact with a tall boy, who was fooling at the other end of the pool with his friends.

Still that damn captain, you thought. Your relationship with him was quite interesting, to say the least. You hated each other, you wished you could rip his cocky smile off his face and throw him in the pool. Everyone could see that you weren't the bestest friends, which was understandable since you were rival captains, but there was a sort of attraction between you two at the same time. Yunho seemed to take pleasure and entertainment in teasing you, always laughing as you tried to not take his jokes seriously, pushing him away or “accidentally” making him trip on your foot. You couldn’t resist his small remarks, always snapping back at him on every occasion, sometimes even creating a conflict between you two. Yunho was a proud boy, he always talked back, never letting you hurt his pride as much as you let him hurt yours. You had other worries to deal with, but deep down, you still felt hurt every time he and his friends teased or made snarky comments about you and your team.

He was standing at the other side of the pool with his friends, who were laughing and pushing each other, sometimes close to falling into the water. “What do they feed him to be this energetic at 4 am?” you mumbled to yourself as you deeply exhaled and swam again. Yunho stopped laughing as his classmates were starting to leave, keeping their energy for this afternoon’s competition. He heard the water moving from the third lane, a slim silhouette cutting through the water with long and muscular limbs.

He observed you moving like a dolphin and closed his eyes as you did a U-turn underwater to start a new lap, splashing water on him and his friends. They started to leave one by one, each going to shower before going back to sleep for a while. Yunho was the only one who stayed behind, still mesmerised by the way you swam. He was always goofing and joking around, but you were a water goddess in his eyes. He silently walked towards the side of the pool where you were massaging your foot, your body curled into a ball, entirely underwater. You reappeared at the surface with a grimace drawn on your face, still holding your cramping foot.

“Yunho, I’m really not in the mood for your fucking lame remarks,” you spat as you noticed a smirk on his face. It suddenly vanished when he heard the pain in your voice, jumping in the water next to you. “Give me your foot,” he ordered but you didn’t move. You rested yourself on the pool wall and stared at him, clutching your foot in pain. “Why?” you glared, suspicious of his ulterior motives. “Come on,” he said, looking at you, “I’m not going to snap your leg in half if that’s what you’re scared of.” "You could," your eyes squinted as you directly stared at him, "I don’t think you’d be unhappy to see me in clutches while you win all the local championships," you reluctantly extended your foot underwater, which he caught with ease and started applying pressure on the sole of your foot with the palm of his hand. A sharp pain shot through your muscles, making you hiss, but it started to fade as Yunho kept the pressure on your sole. After a few minutes in absolute silence, the pain disappeared.

"T-thank you," you grudgingly said to the man standing in front of you, retreating your leg from his grip. He smiled as he swiftly shook his hair to remove excess water from it. "You’re welcome," he shot a wink as you felt your heart skip a beat. Your self-control was fine so far, but it was now all over the place as the tall swimmer was near you. “You know,” he said, coming closer to you, trapping you between him and the swimming lane, “I like to tease you and annoy the crap out of you, it's really funny, but I will never, ever, try and purposely hurt you.” His voice was serious, and you had a better vision of droplets of water running down his muscular torso, which was a huge distraction of the conversation you were having. His lips were chapped and pinkish, contrasting with the paleness of his skin.

“You never know what people are ready to do when they want to win. I speak in full knowledge of the facts and you surely know it,” you stretched your arms in front of you to cool your muscles down as you completed your workout. “Oh really?” Yunho said, raising an interrogative eyebrow at your remark. “Yes," you rolled your eyes and stared at him, "I’m talking about your teammates during our first year. They ripped and my cap and goggles right before the race. I’m still mad that no one got in trouble for that.” You whispered your last sentence as you hauled yourself out of the pool, walking to the red plastic chair, your towel resting on top of it. You plunged your face in it, letting go of a big breath as you felt the tiredness of early morning and your workout kick in. “You know that I can’t do anything about it,” Yunho followed you, wiping the water running down his nose.

”Oh yeah, you might be surprised but there was and still is something you can do,” you looked up from your towel and stared at him straight in the eyes, “you could actually behave like a captain and treat me like one too, instead of the constant teasing you make me go through whenever we see each other. I can see that you like it, but I don't,” Yunho wants to interfere but you rose you pointing finger, “no, let me finish. I know you enjoy teasing me, it's annoying to see your fucking smile on your face when you laugh at me, and since we see each other pretty regularly, my team never takes me seriously. I can’t be taken seriously when I’m the captain and supposed to help them and give pieces of advice.” You stopped ranting, not knowing where you wanted this conversation to go. “Just keep your nasty remarks and teasing for someone else, someone who’s willing to go through the bullshit and teasing you make me go through every time we see each other. There’s no need to act like you are the king of the pool, everyone has eyes for you, even my mates and my teachers. It’s frustrating, sometimes even infuriating. So you either you leave me alone, or I quit, so you'll actually have the entire pool for yourself.”

You walked to the changing room without another word, even if you heard Yunho calling your name, jogging behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, gently catching your wrist to stop you, placing himself in front of the door as you sighed but didn’t push him away. “I never meant to hurt you, really. I never thought that it would hurt you that much, or that you would take anything seriously. I just thought that since we were captains, we could tease each other for fun. I've always done that with other captains when I was in high school and at the beginning of college too, but I should have noticed that it hurt you.” You were a bit suspicious at first, but when you saw his guilty yet serious expression, your features softened. He stepped closer, keeping the eye contact with you as a smile appeared on his face.

“I’ll stop teasing you, you have my word.” He declared as something in his eyes changed, but you couldn’t describe what it was. Even if you hated to admit it, Yunho was a handsome guy, girls swooning over his personality and muscular body when he was messing around the pool. You were quite oblivious of what was currently happening, but the situation wasn’t unpleasant. His hands linked behind his muscular back, he neared your face with his, his lips hovering above yours. “But now,” his voice was an octave lower, making you shiver, “what do you think our teams would say if they saw their captain kiss?” Your eyes widened at his words, never imagining that he was this kind of feeling for you. His hands left his back and landed on the damp skin of your waist, feeling surprisingly warm against your cold skin.

"Are you out of your mind?" you asked as he pushed you backwards, your shoulders coming in contact with the cold swinging door, making you stumble in the girls changing room. You were at a loss of words, too surprised by the current situation to make a single sound. “Hm, Y/N? What do you think?” Yunho repeated as your answer didn't satisfy him. “I just think that you shouldn’t be in the girls changing room,” you finally answered, earning a smirk from him. You couldn’t resist the intensity of his eyes, so you looked away, but Yunho didn't appreciate that. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him a few seconds in the eyes before lunging forwards and locking his lips with yours in a swift motion. He grunted as you pressed your hands on his abs, your tired muscles slightly giving in at the sudden new feeling. His arms landed on your waist as you pulled on the hair at the back of his head, earning a grunt from him. Feeling that you were kissing him back, Yunho didn't hesitate and took your response as the green light to let his hands explore your body.

The kiss was getting more and more intense and heated as minutes passed by. You were too caught up in the moment to care if someone walked in, too busy to make your mouths move in sync. Who comes to swim so early in the morning anyway?

You circled your arms around his neck as he hugged you even closer, the sheer fabric of your bathing suits being the only restrictions between your bodies. Yunho pushed you backwards, again, your back slowly colliding with the wall of a shower cubicle. He locked the door behind him after pulling you in it, trapping you in his arms as your mouths danced again together. Hands in his hair, sometimes pulling on it, you managed to earn a few other grunts from him.

Droplets of water fell on your faces as some entered your mouths, the taste of chlorine adding fuel to the already steamy exchange. You suddenly felt hotter when Yunho’s hands went from your waist to your ass, pushing up the fabric to get full access to your skin. Softly grasping the flesh before slapping your butt cheeks, you felt him smirk against your lips as you moaned loudly. His tongue took advantage of your slightly opened mouth to enter it, slowly dancing with your tongue, looking like they were shaped for each other.

Yunho broke the kiss and didn’t let you time to breathe as he was already attacking your jaw, slowly leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck and collarbones. You had made out in the past with your exes, but none of them made you feel as good as Yunho did. His hands and mouth were exploring your body, a sensation that you had never felt before. It was a very new sensation and your stomach did flips as his lips connected with the soft skin under your ear, tongue twirling on your shivering skin, his action increasing your arousal. You let out a moan as you caressed the nape of his neck, drawing him as close to you as possible. His kisses were addicting, you felt like a junkie who hasn’t had their drug in years, eyes rolling at the back of your head as goosebumps took over your body. It felt so good that you wanted to let the entire world know how good he was making you feel.

“Y-Yunho,” you whispered as you tried to get his mouth away from your skin, suddenly snapping back to reality, “we race this afternoon, I compete with a purple neck.” Yunho’s mouth came back up and kissed you on the lips to prevent you from further complaining. “I don’t care,” he grunted, drawing you closer by your neck, “I want to show everyone that you’re active. I want to show every single student there that you’re mine and mine only.” Gosh, he could be so competitive and greedy sometimes, you could only give in when he assaulted your neck, again. Your worries vanished, getting replaced by waves of pleasure flooding your veins.

The captain felt you shiver under his touch and he smirked, dragging you in the middle of the shower stall and turned on the water, the tap on the warm side. The water hitting your skin made you tremble even more, but it was a different kind of shiver. Throwing your head back, you gave Yunho more access to your neck and moaned his name as he found your soft spot, right under your ear. He turned you around, pressing you against the wall. His hands travelled the sides of your body up to your arms as he kissed your shoulder blades, teeth grazing on the skin. Spinning around to face him, you held on his shoulders for your dear life as he passionately kissed you again, his lips being your new obsession. They needed to be against yours to make you feel satisfied.

But you had enough, it was your turn to feel him up and explore his body. Your hands travelled down his torso, touching his strong abs and his happy trail, going dangerously south as he groaned at the pleasant feeling. He stopped kissing you, making you open your eyes, only to find him hungrily looking at you, biting his lower lip in the process.

"You're so fucking hot," he whispered, and you stared at him, smirking as your eyes filled with lust. As you were about to caress him further, you heard voices behind the main door, and you recognised your friends' voices. You both immediately froze, and Yunho turned the water off as quickly as he could. You jumped in his arms, and he hugged you close to his body with one arm wrapped around your figure, the other pushing the hair away from your face. He then pressed his forefinger against your lips, signalling you to stay quiet, only to have you opening your mouth and sucking on it. His eyes widened and darkened, surprised by your actions. He mouthed you to stay quiet, and you nodded, still sucking on his digit as you stared at him. It was so explicit and eager of you, but you felt a rush of adrenaline in your body, scared but also yearning to get caught.

While your friends were taking their sweet time to get ready to swim, you were both shivering in the shower stall, breaths shallow and quick, hoping not to get caught in the middle of your heated make-out session. You could feel that Yunho was starting to get bored as your friends laughed at some dumb jokes they made, and you didn’t like the look he had in his eyes, unwrapping your mouth of his finger.

You knew what he had in mind, and you rapidly shook your head, silently pleading him to stay still. What a bad idea of teasing him, you knew he could be spiteful sometimes. He smirked and sank his head in your collarbone, dangerously going south as he landed right above your chest, sucking on the sensitive skin. Yunho heard you squirm as one girl closed her locker, his hand kneading the skin of your ass. He had to resist the urge of slapping the jiggling flesh, feeling so soft against his palm. You clenched your teeth to prevent you from making a single noise, pursing your lips as you heard two girls walking towards the pool, letting out a long sigh as soon as they closed the door.

“I hope no one comes in and interrupts us next time,” Yunho nonchalantly said as he opened the cubicle door. You almost choked on air at his words, slapping his shoulder. “Because you think there’ll be another time?” You almost yelled but quickly caught yourself and lowered your voice. “What do you think we’re going to do when we’ll finish first from our respective category? Did you really think I was done with you? You’re just lucky that I’m tired, otherwise we would still be in that cubicle,” He winked and quickly pecked your lips before you could hit him again.

“I hate you,” you scoffed as you took your showering products and went back to the cubicle. “If you say so, darling,” Yunho mumbled with a smile, knowing that it wasn’t the case. You couldn’t hate him after all of this, rather the contrary. But it was just your way of protecting yourself. “I’ll treat you like a princess if you get a good result.” "And if I finish first?” You teased, closing and locking the door. ”I’ll treat you like the queen you are and make you taste a bit of paradise,” he stated as if it was the most normal thing to say and he left the girl changing room, making his way towards the changing rooms where he was supposed to be since he finished swimming.

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undermattsun-archive · 4 years

Text

flavor of the month

(skate rat) matsukawa x fem!reader | word count: 2k

slight!hanamaki x reader (established relationship)

a/n: based off this post i made n spurred by some enabling :^) “no beta we die like men” -lin

18+ university age | PLS READ WARNINGS

warnings: cheating, public sex (fingering), toxic behavior, manipulation, bad language, dubcon (if u stare too long/squint at it) mattsun is a bad friend

hanamaki takahiro was a godsend in your final year of college. the sweet, doting boyfriend you had been waiting for —what felt like— your entire life. there was nothing under the sun he wouldn’t do for you, he helped you study, do your chores and had even carried you across campus, carrying both of your backpacks simply because you had a bad fall and twisted your ankle ever so slightly. he was perfect in almost every way. almost. you suppose his choice of friends could be chalked down to a little less than perfect, specifically, when it comes to who he so proudly calls his best friend.

matuskawa issei’s name was tacked with some of the dirtiest of rumors that were accompanied with a plethora of gross truths. when you had met him you were floored, your dearest, loving makki, called this entitled, smug skate rat, his best friend? it didn’t take long for his sliminess to seep through immediately and in the beginning of your relationship with makki you did everything in your power to avoid being near matsukawa. but as your relationship grew, so did your face to face contact with his dangerously flirty best friend.

“i just want two of the most important people in my life to get along!” makki had said one night while you two readied to go out for drinks with his friends. you had melted at the sparkle in his eyes when he smiled so lovingly at you. you know that could’ve told makki just how much his best friend made you uncomfortable, but the endearingly fond tone of voice he used when he spoke of the other man made you keep your lips shut tightly on the manner.

it was how you ended up in your current position, sitting at the back corner booth of one of your favorite restaurants, makki seated across from you and matsukawa seated beside you. you had made a point to sit as closely to the wall as possible, punctuating the action with a curt glare at matsukawa before focusing all your attention on the love of your life.

“it was incredible really, i can’t believe you tried to climb a tree that tall.” makki amuses as he recounts another mischievous act from their childhood.

“now now makki you mean succeeded to climb,” he spreads his legs further under the table, forcing you to squeeze your legs together to dodge any contact, “i was a tree climbing god.”

“yeah tell that to the broken arm you got when we were 10, oh excuse me we’re ready to order.” you almost sigh dreamily at the polite smile makki has on display as he waves the waiter over. as the waiter makes his approach, makki continues on with the story behind matsukawa breaking his arm and you do your best to ignore said man yawning dramatically, stretching his arms out and almost swiping at your face. he shoots you an unapologetic smirk as he scoots just little bit closer to you, you lean your head against the wall trying to focus on whatever makki and the waiter were idly chatting about.

“and for you miss?” you snap your eyes up to look at the waiter, opening your mouth to recite your order when you feel a hand land on your knee, making your eyebrow twitch. this isn’t new, you couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but matsukawa had always been a little bit too touchy, so a hand on resting on your knee or an arm thrown around your shoulder was nothing new. what is new, is when you slightly jerk your knee to tell him to remove his hand, only for him to keep it there firmly planted with the audacity to even squeeze lightly.

“babe?” makki stares at you intently, and with a clench of your jaw you ignore the hand on you to tell the waiter what you would like. as the waiter turns away, makki dives into a story from his russian literature class, detailing just how insane he thinks his professor is as you nod along, forgetting that matsukawa has planted his hand on you. until you feel his hand slowly start to creep up your leg, making your entire body tense up, you send him another narrow look as he shifts in his seat leaning towards you a tiny fraction. for a split second, you wonder if the metal of his rings were cool to touch, or had they siphoned the heat off his hand, and would feel as if it was burning into your skin, branding each inch of bare flesh he touched with the crawl of his fingers.

“-okay love?” the soft coo brings you from your thoughts, making you flush with shame, your hand comes down and grips at matsukawa’s wrist to stop him from going any further.

“i’m sorry i might’ve...”

“spaced out? thats okay. i was just saying i don’t think i can do our usual monday study date. iwaizumi and i have this biology project and...” his voice drowns our as your focus is pulled to the sensation of matsukawa forcing his way out of your hold and pushing his fingers between your thighs, continuing to slide his hand up at an achingly slow pace.

say something, your brain screams, anything, get up and go to the bathroom, do something, your boyfriend is right there.

you press your legs together tightly, hoping the message comes across, but matsukawa is on a hell path, shamelessly trying to push you beyond your limits as his fingers dig into your inner thighs. at the back of your mind is that tiny voice that’s tormented you since meeting him. a part of you wants this, you’ve always been curious, that carnal attraction to such a rotten and handsome man is undeniable. because despite the perfection and bliss of an achingly sweet, tooth rotting boyfriend, the utter taboo of his disgusting best friend is far too tempting to not think about.

“th-that’s okay hiro.” you chew at your lip trying to play off the the stumble of your words by relaxing your shoulders, hoping that he won’t question you. you try to start a round of idle chatter as you make another weak attempt to remove matsukawa’s hand from you.

“hey you know what we haven’t done in awhile? bothered oikawa.” matsukawa leans back, looking almost innocent with his signature lazy grin. you wrap your fingers tightly around his wrist, trying to keep your position as natural as possible so that makki doesn’t pick up on what’s happening. makki agrees with a flourish of words and you don’t miss the way matsukawa’s eyes slide over to you, as if challenging you to say something to makki.

“it’ll break his heart,” matsukawa had said once when he had trapped you on top of your washing machine in the apartment you shared with makki, he had the tendency of backing you against a wall, making you feel small under his presence, “besides who do you think he’ll really believe about who came onto who? i’m his lifelong best friend and you’re just the flavor of the month.”

the memory causes a searing sensation to burn at your chest and your face, this time you dig your nails into matsukawa’s wrist, a more adamant command to leave you alone. only to make your resolve crumble as his fingers dance along your clothed cunt, making your legs fall apart just a touch. it’s a shameless action that incites a bubbling of shame in your stomach and you realize your fatal mistake. you’ve shown a sliver of interest, you’ve given in just enough that he’ll only push further.

the moment you spot the waiter holding plates of food you breathe out in relief, figuring it’s the end of his little game as the plates are set out in front of you. you release your grip on his wrist and he retracts his hand slowly, a wave of relief washing through you. tinged with something resembling disappointment.

“here babe try this.” makki holds out a spoonful of curry and you lean in to take a bite, spluttering at the feeling of matsukawa suddenly shoving his hand into your pants. you choke and cough as makki scrambles to hand you a glass of water, matsukawa a disturbing pillar of silence beside you. you stiffly turn your head to look at him, eyes pleading for some sort of answer as to why now he’s decided to hurdle himself past the line he’s been so keen on toeing since you’ve started dating his best friend. to your horror he’s sitting there quietly, as he peacefully uses his right hand to feed himself, as if his left isn’t currently shoved into your pants teasing at you with the full intent of driving you insane.

“sorry sorry i’m,” yours eyes widen as matsukawa’s fingers press harder against your covered folds, harshly dragging his fingers up to your clit, “f-fine.”

“are you sure? you’ve been looking a little red the past half hour or so, are you really feeling okay?” the concern in makki’s voice punctuates your guilt as you squirm slightly at the way matsukawa teases your clit through your panties.

“promise love, i’m fine. i think i j-just,” in one swift motion matsukawa pushes your panties to the side just enough to thrust a finger into your core, “didn’t sleep well!”

“mm it’s the stress from your history class?” you don’t trust your voice to not shake as matsukawa pushes deeper and deeper, achingly slow there’s an almost delicious burn from the sudden entry.

“mhm.” you grip your silverware tightly in each hand, a helpless shake of your hips as matsukawa curls his finger inside of you. the way you clench around his finger only encourages him, a soft huff of amusement spilling from his lips as he thrusts his finger into you.

“makki, did you finish the chem homework?” he pulls his finger out just to the first knuckle, teasing at the rim of your hole, you try not to jump when you feel the tip of another finger settle near your entrance.

“don’t.” you whisper, but the word goes ignored as he thrusts in the other finger, the sting of the dry addition burns through you and biting back a moan as your eyes widen at makki who’s so peacefully eating before you.

“did you say something love?” you feel your legs start to shake a little as matsukawa ruthlessly thrusts his fingers in and out, pressing the heel of his palm against your swollen clit.

“i um don’t forget to, empty the dishwasher?” your words come out breathless and makki only hums in agreement before continuing to shovel curry into his mouth.

“doing okay there? haven’t touched your food.” the glint in matsukawa’s eyes is borderline sadistic as he pointedly looks between you and your food. before you can reply he sharply curls his fingers again before scissoring them apart making your legs spread further, silently and shamelessly asking for more.

“i’m fine? see?” you make a point to take a big bite of your noodles, swallowing them down as matsukawa presses in a third finger. there’s barely an ache this time as he works in another finger, your dripping cunt practically begging for it at this point. the familiar tightness begins to coil deep in your belly and with a particularly harsh curl of his fingers, your head snaps down, jaw dropping as you clench around him. without hesitation he continues to knead the heel of his palm against your clit as your cunt greedily squeezes his fingers. his motions become lazier as your body shakes from the searing bliss shooting through your veins. and the thought of choking him when this is all said and done is at the forefront of your mind.

“y/n?” makki reaches across the table and intertwines your fingers. guilt swirls in your chest as you raise your head to meet makki’s eyes, a weak smile at your lips.

“thought i was gonna sneeze.”

“say makki can you get the waiters attention, i want some more water.” he makes a point to shake his cup of ice. makki pulls away from you and looks away from the table. you pant out a few breaths as matsukawa pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty and shaken. you take the risk to look at matsukawa, looking painfully proud of himself as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking the glistening juices coating them.

“sweet.”

#skate rat hq #miki writes #tw public sex #tw toxic behavior #tw manipulation #tw dubcon #just in case #tw cheating #under.mattsun

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