#listen she has pink blood this has been haunting me

[fluxydrawings]

sure ill post this. i spent too much time on this

[mybeautifuldelirium]

I don’t know why I want this so bad but here we go!

So I had an idea for a reader x Aemond where reader is one of Rhaenrya’s kids and they have been secretly seeing each other since they know their siblings would make fun of both of them if they knew.

Anyway Aemond takes reader with him when he goes to claim Vhagar and she’s a nervous wreck the whole time and if she’s nervous about just sneaking out you can imagine how she’d be when the first flight happens and she’s with Aemond when the fight breaks out between all the kids. During the questioning she sides with Aemond without a second thought and after all the fighting she chooses to go with Aemond back to Kingslanding and eventually get married. Then like the show a few years pass and we have the day of the trial and dinner and she tries to stop Aemond from starting the fight and then just fluff.

I hope this all made sense I got excited and went on a tangent 🤣 whether you take this request or not just know you’re an amazing writer and I can’t wait to see what else you write! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Always Meant to be Together || Aemond Targaryen x reader

A/N: so I did divert a bit from the request but as usual the overall premise is the same, hope u enjoy xx

Summary: Y/N is Rhaenyra’s first born daughter, Aemond’s closest friend, the one who was by his side during the incident and went against her own family to protect him. But after six years of being apart, has their relationship changed or could they be again, what they once were?

Warnings: angst, fluff, Targaryen incest

The true born Targaryen children of queen Alicent and the supposed bastards of princess Rhaenyra were never meant to get along, despite being of the same blood, they could never be of the same side. But as fate has it, rules always have their exceptions.

-

“Behold, The Pink Dread” the three boys laughed in unison as they presented the pig to the younger prince.

A cruel joke, this was, making the poor boy run out of the dragonpit.

“Very mature of you, Aegon” Y/N scolded him as she had just entered “And you two, is this what mother has taught you?”

“It was a mere jest, sister; why are you so concerned?” Jace giggled as he winked at the other boys, making them join in with laughter.

Y/N scoffed at his insinuation and went to follow after Aemond.

“Don’t listen to these fools, I know you’ll get a dragon very soon” the young girl said as she cautiously approached the prince.

“I don’t need your pity” he mumbled in annoyance, without looking at her.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m simply stating the truth” Y/N said, now with full confidence.

Aemond finally stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her “You truly believe so?” he asked, hints of hope in his voice.

“Of course! You’re a Targaryen prince after all” she smiled “And besides I believe you’re much braver than Aegon and my brothers” Y/N scrunched her nose, as they both giggled.

From that day, the two kids became quite inseparable, much to the displeasure of their mothers, they would often sneak out and spend time together.

-

It was way past her bedtime, yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, she was squeezing her eyes shut, tossing and turning in her bed, but to no avail. The images of Laena’s funeral from earlier that day still haunted her mind. Y/N didn’t know her aunt very well yet she couldn’t help but feel consumed by sorrow. Soon however, her eyelids at last grew heavy as she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

“Y/N, wake up” a hasty whisper suddenly brought her back. But as the girl was about to let out a startled scream, a cold palm was placed on top of her lips to shush her. “Hey, it’s me, it’s me, Aemond”

“Aemond?! What are you doing here”

“Shhh, come, follow me” he gestured towards the door.

“What?! Have you gone mad?! It’s the middle of the night!” the young girl whisper-yelled, confusion and exhaustion washed over her face.

“Please, just trust me, I need you”

Y/N sighed as she slowly got up, there was something about this violet gaze of his, when he was looking directly at her, that always managed to make her unable to refuse his pleas.

It was a clear night, the stars were glistening like thousands of diamonds as the chilling breeze was piercing through Y/N’s thin robe that she had loosely tied over her silk nightgown.

“Aemond, where are we going? I’m freezing”

“We’re almost there” the boy tried to reassure her.

The two kids continued their walk through the seemingly endless field and as Y/N was starting to consider running back inside her warm chambers, they were met with the magnificent silhouette of no other than Vhagar, the largest dragon alive, her late aunt’s dragon. And though asleep, the mere proximity to him made the little girl shiver with fear.

“We really shouldn’t be here; let’s go back to the castle” she ushered the young prince, her words, however were left unheard as he slowly approached the beast, enamored by its presence.

“Aemond, don’t!” she let out a scared squeal as Vhagar began to wake up.

“You said I was going to get a dragon and this is what I intend on doing” he smirked at her.

“This is not what I meant Aemond, please”

But the boy did not listen and by the time Y/N had comprehended the situation, he had already somehow managed to mount the dragon.

“Come” he finally spoke, reaching his hand down to her.

“No! There’s no way I’m doing this! And you shouldn’t be either. Please come down” she pleaded, her voice full of worry.

“Fine, suit yourself” Aemond mumbled as he commanded Vhagar to fly.

Y/N stood there, filled with dread as she watched the enormous beast take off with her best friend. Those few minutes of their flight were the most agonizing moments she had endured, they felt like an eternity and she couldn’t help but imagine the worst possible outcomes.

The poor girl almost burst into tears when she saw Vhagar landing right beside her with Aemond unharmed. The boy was beaming with pride and excitement as he had finally gotten his so deeply desired dragon.

“You fool” she wept with relief as she leapt to embrace him.

Their happiness however was short lived as on their way back they were met with enraged faces of Y/N’s two younger brothers and her cousins.

“There he is! Sister, what are you doing with this thief?” Jace spat at her, a mixture of disgust and disbelief lingering in his voice.

“He stole my mother’s dragon, she was mine to claim!” Rhaena screamed through tears as she charged towards Aemond.

It wasn’t long before a vicious fight broke out between the children.

“Jacaerys, Lucerys stop! Aemond, don’t!” Y/N was screaming at them trying to stop the fight, but to no avail. Suddenly a blood curdling scream of agony pierced through the halls. Before she could realize what had happened, Y/N saw the other kids run out. Then she saw, she saw him, her Aemond, laying on the ground, with arm on his left eye, waterfalls of blood pouring between his pale fingers.

Y/N let out a frightened scream as she rushed to him, gently moving his head to her lap.

“Aemond, Aemond, can you hear me? Listen, it’s all going to be alright, I promise” she choked on her tears, weaving her fingertips through his messy silver locks.

-

The following moments went in a blur, next thing she knew, she was standing behind her mother as the kids were throwing accusations at each other in front of the king. Alicent was inconsolable, going from caressing her wounded son to screaming at Rhaenyra and her children, it was like hell broke loose.

“Silence” Viserys at last stood up, making the whole room grow quiet. “Now, may I hear what exactly happened. Y/N, you were the one with Aemond when the guards found you, I want you to tell me the whole truth” he sent a stern look towards his granddaughter.

The little girl slowly stepped out from behind her mother’s skirts. Her face was pale as a ghost, dried up tears covering her cheeks, stains of the prince’s blood still fresh on her white nightgown. Everyone was now looking directly at Y/N, Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with concern, the two frightened boys clutching at her hands, Alicent hardly containing her rage, it almost felt like time had stopped. Then her eyes caught the gaze of Aemond’s remaining one, making her own well up at the sight.

“It was Jace and Lucerys, my brothers. They started it along with my cousins” the girl spat through tears, pointing at the kids “Aemond didn’t say anything to provoke them, they’re lying”

“Liar, she’s a liar” Jace started screaming at his sister “Mother, this is not true, he did call us bastards”

Rhaenyra looked with utter disbelief at her daughter’s face, but before she was able to say anything, Alicent had gotten up, grabbing a dagger.

“What more proof do you need?” she cried, running towards Luke with the weapon in her hand, but was quickly caught by Rhaenyra who leapt in front of her son.

Eventually the fight was put to an end and all were ordered back to their chambers.

Y/N was now sitting on her bed clutching at her blankets trying to erase her memories of the horrendous ordeal that had occurred. The girl was so consumed by those thoughts that she had just noticed that her mother had entered the room. She had an unreadable expression as she slowly approached the bed, holding her bandaged arm.

“How could you? How could you go against your own brothers in front of the king?” she asked, her voice full of disappointment.

“It was their fault. Luke took Aemond’s eye” Y/N sniffed trying not to burst into tears again.

Rhaenyra grabbed at her daughter’s chin, making her meet her gaze. “You siding with that boy almost cost your brother his eye” she hissed “We are a family. Your brothers are your family. Never forget this” she then stood up and left without another word.

-

Y/N had spent the following six years at Dragonstone after her mother’s marriage to Daemon. The girl couldn’t deny that she had rather enjoyed the peace of those years however she so deeply longed to go back to the capital.

-

Her prayers were at last answered as she finally stepped foot in her homelands. Y/N was now a woman grown yet she could still vividly recall her time spent on the castle grounds throughout her childhood. The princess was eagerly following behind her younger brothers as they explored the courtyard that they once used to play in.

However, the sounds of clashing steel immediately had caught the attention of the siblings as they quickly went to follow it.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t have been him. But it was, it was him. Her prince, her Aemond. There was something about the way he was so mercilessly fighting against ser Criston that made her feel intimidated, a dangerous swordsman he had become.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” he at last spoke, pointing his sword at the two boys, no emotion in his words.

“Bōsa jēda daor ūndegon, kēpus” (long time no see, uncle) Y/N smiled confidently as she finally walked out from her spot behind the gate.

Her words made Aemond drop his sword in disbelief and he slowly approached her. There were now mere inches between them as she looked up meeting his gaze. He had changed, yet still possessing this otherworldly beauty she had grown to admire. His face was now chiseled as if carved by the hands of the gods, his silver locks, much longer, reaching the middle of his back and the deep scar still visible under the black leather eyepatch that was covering his left eye, a reminder of the vicious incident. The prince took his time slowly examining her features as if trying to confirm it was really her. He gently picked a lock of her hair, slowly twirling it between his fingers, a devious smirk now playing on his lips. Aemond then suddenly turned around and headed back without saying a word.

-

The king had called for a small feast in honor of his family as they were at last together. Y/N could hardly recognize her grandfather, the magnificent man she remembered from her childhood was now deteriorating before her, half of his stern face, covered by a gold mask, perhaps concealing the damage. He was leaning in his chair, unable to sit properly yet his presence was just as powerful as it once was.

The tension in the room was so present, almost as if you could cut through it with a sword. Y/N’s gaze traveled across the familiar faces around the table, they were her family yet they felt so distant. Then her eyes fell on Aemond, her childhood best friend. She couldn’t catch any hint of emotions in his eye, he was simply sitting with a blank expression, occasionally sipping from his wine. Their last encounter had left the young princess bewildered as he had left without speaking a single word to her. ‘What an arrogant prick has he become’ she thought to herself, angrily bringing the wine cup to her lips.

“Care for a dance, dear niece” she was suddenly brought back from her thoughts by Aegon who was now standing behind her. Seeing that his wife was dancing with Jace, Y/N reluctantly took the older prince’s hand and followed him across the hall.

The girl closed her eyes as she swayed, trying to forget who her partner was as she indulged in the music. A few moments later however, their dance was interrupted by a tap on Aegon’s shoulder and when she looked up before her was standing no other than Aemond, her Aemond. There was a wild look lingering in his eye, could that have been jealousy? She wondered for a second before moving towards his hands, continuing the dance. What she didn’t know however was that throughout her time with Aegon, the one eyed prince hadn’t left her from his sight, feelings he thought he had long forgotten, rushing back.

They didn’t speak the entire time yet they kept their eyes locked at each other’s and for a second Y/N could swear that she had caught a glimpse of the Aemond she remembered and so deeply cared for.

“I missed you” she whispered, almost to herself. His stern expression softened, serving as a proof that he had heard her. This intimate moment however was cut short as the king was being escorted back to his chambers and before she knew it, they were again sitting at the table. Much to her mother and brothers’ displeasure, Y/N was now seated beside Aemond.

Despite Viserys’ departure the feast continued, servants bringing dish after dish.

Luke couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as a large roasted pig was placed in front of his uncle, earning him a warning look from his sister. Y/N then grabbed at Aemond’s hand trying to calm him down but alas, the prince stood up giving a toast to his ‘strong’ nephews. It didn’t take long for a quarrel to erupt, after his insinuations, with Jace punching the prince across his face but before the fight could further escalate, Y/N quickly leapt between her brother and uncle.

“Aemond, don’t, please,that’s enough”

Just as she could never refuse anything to him, so couldn’t he, the prince scoffed and headed out.

Y/N tried to follow after him but was stopped by her mother. “Don’t even consider it” Rhaenyra pulled at her arm “Don’t betray your family once again”

-

It must’ve been past midnight yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, so instead of forcing it, the young maiden decided to take a stroll across the castle hallways.

Suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around her mouth, pushing her against the nearest wall.

“I missed you too, dear niece” a deep voice whispered in her ear. The only light coming from the moon, shining through the nearby window, illuminating the so familiar smirk spread across the man’s face.

“Aemond?!” the girl exhaled, looking closer at the handsome face of her ‘attacker’. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You never came to visit me after the incident, never even said goodbye” he hissed, hints of sadness in his voice.

“Oh Aemond, you have no idea how hard I tried to, but mother wouldn’t let me, she put guards in front of my chambers” Y/N softened her features, moving her hand to his cheek.

“Don’t go back to Dragonstone, stay” he placed his hand on top of hers.

“Why would I, am I not a bastard too, like my brothers?” she suddenly snapped, reminding him of the prior events.

“Ohh, the fuck with this” he grunted, smashing his lips on top of hers. This action caught Y/N completely by surprise yet it didn’t take long for her to eagerly kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his soft silver locks. This was her Aemond she was kissing, the young boy she had unknowingly fallen for way back when they were kids.

“We were always meant to be together, Y/N” he smirked as they pulled away from the kiss.

-

“Mother, I won’t go back to Dragonstone” she had gone to the godswood to announce her decision to Rhaenyra.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to go, I want to stay here” Y/N repeated, trying not to show the trembling in her voice.

“You, you are responsible for this, aren’t you?” Rhaenyra pointed at Aemond who had just approached them. “Haven’t you done enough harm to her!?”

“I simply wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, princess, to strengthen our houses” his infamous smirk, still lingering.

“What makes you think I’ll sacrifice my only daughter to you?” She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Mother, you tried to separate us years ago yet the gods once again brought us together, we were meant to be together” Y/N repeated Aemond’s words from the prior night.

“If that’s your decision, then so be it, I’ll give you my blessing, but remember, once you’ve chosen which side you’re on, there is no going back” Rhaenyra sighed as she left the young couple.

Those words pierced at Y/N’s heart, but she knew she had made the right decision, choosing to marry the one she loved and she was determined to go against anything that would try to separate them.

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@ellathefriendlyalpacaaa

@believeinthefireflies95

@caspianobsessed

@hayoooos-blog

@kitkat-writes-stuff

[ladymarvel27]

Live for someone | Carlos Sainz | (ii)

Werewolf!Carlos Sainz x Witch!Reader

Summary: Years ago, you lost the love of your life. But when he has returned back, why is he hostile towards you?

Word count: 700+

Warnings: Supernatural creatures, blood, injuries, mentions of smut, brief smut, experiencing nightmares. English isn't my first language either, so apologies for errors if any.

Part 1 Part 2

You gasped loudly as you opened your eyes which were reddened. You were breathing heavily. Heavy sweat droplets covered your torso. You were once again awoken by the same nightmare that has been haunting you for years-the same flames. You heard a groan and you turned. A large wolf with black furs and big brown eyes sat next to you. You pushed and sat up. Obviously, the over-concerned Carlos shapeshifted as a form of protective stance. He held a paw out. You slowly placed your palm on it. Gradually, the claws transformed into fingers and the human Carlos was sitting before you.

“Are you fine?!” he asked. “Yeah," you answered, shivering a little after another nightmare episode with the same plot. He raised an eyebrow.

“I had a nightmare. You…” your voice broke.

“It’s okay if you don’t want-”

“Carlos,” you sobbed.

“Come here.” He pulled you into his arms as he laid down. You snuggled into his chest. He cradled you and placed a small peck on your temple. It brought you a sense of comfort. It calmed you down and you rested your eyes.

“Don’t be afraid mi reina, I am here,” he whispered, running a gentle hand over your hair, “I am alive,” was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

You woke up and heard the sound of his heart beating against your ears. The sound brought comfort to your ears. You missed the sound. You missed his heart beating, feeling him alive, breathing, next to you. He was still wearing the wolf pendant you gifted him. His arms were holding you close to his chest. This position was indeed perfect. Just laying on top of him, snuggled close to his chest. You looked up to him. His eyes fluttered open and met yours. Soon his lips curled into a smile.

“Buenos dias hermosa.” He spoke.

“Buenos dias,” you replied and in an instant, a grin appeared on your face.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

“Yes,” you blushed as you remembered the details of last night. Exhaling, he took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. You flicked your other hand to open the curtain. The sun’s rays fell on his face, lighting up his big honey-brown eyes. And he looked, ethereal. His big brown eyes, his arched brows, his perfectly tanned skin and his luscious black hair; his beauty is indescribable in mere words.

“Y/N,” he spoke up, “I must apologise for not believing in you.”

“Carlos…” you whispered.

“No, Y/N. I forgive you for whatever misunderstandings happened between us. Just forgive me for expressing distrust.”

“It's okay Carlos,” you cupped his face and rubbed your thumb gently on his cheek. You raised yourself as he pulled you closer and your lips connected.

You both switched positions and now he was on top. He placed his hands on either side of your waist to balance himself. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer for a sweet kiss on his pink plump lips. His lips moved down to your collarbones, making you moan.

A knock came on the door which stopped Carlos. “Y/N?” You groaned. “I don’t want to interrupt any kind of sacred mating but for goddess’ sake, you both, EAT SOMETHING!”

“Uhhh!” You let out an exasperated groan.

“Listen, I didn’t interrupt the last night’s deed-” you both gasped in unison. “-yeah, you both were so loud!”

“Sorry!” He crowed.

“I’ll keep the apology if you both take some bath and come for breakfast.”

“We will!” You replied loudly.

“Okay,” she replied back and walked away from the door. Carlos pulled off the duvet and walked to his closet. He opened the door, looking for stuff. You noticed his back, it looked better than last night. But there were more scars than what you saw yesterday. “Carlos,” he turned his head to you. “What?” He asked, his hands still arranging the clothes. You walked to him and ran a gentle hand on those scars, your eyes moistening a little. But then you felt the fire of anger, and the want of vengeance. “I will take your revenge, I assure you, Carlos.”

He puts the clothes on the shelf and turns around to engulf you in his embrace. He slowly leans and whispers into your ear, “I believe you.”

“Wanna take a shower with me?” He asked, grabbing a towel and putting it on his shoulder.

“Yep.” You instantly replied. He immediately scooped you into his arms and you laughed.

“What?”

“You’re so sweet.”

You clasped your hands together at the back of his and pulled yourself closer to bury your face in the crook of his neck. He exhaled a chuckle and smiled to himself. “Y/N,” he chuckled. His grip on your body tightens as he takes both of you to the en-suite, the bright smile never leaving his face. He was finally back, holding you in his arms, and you didn't want him to slip away ever.

A/n: Thanks to my sister for proofreading it and @faithm120601 for continuing to write the supernatural fics or I wouldn't had the motivation to write this one, I've been trying to write these for the last five months. Also thanks to @samspenandsword and @saradika for the dividers.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt6

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

(The other parts of this story are under the First BG3 Masterlist, or you can use the AO3 link to read it there)

This one is my problem child. I have no idea how to write for the other companions but I needed to have this as context for the companions learning about Tav's bg and yeah whatever I've got better stuff coming up. I am very very excited for future chapters >:)

Warnings: self-destructive coping mechanisms (scratching oneself), mentions of slavery, hints of a panic attack, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of biting, possibly OOC companions

Word Count: 1,334

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

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Everyone eyed you warily. You didn’t blame them. After you scrubbed your hands raw of the blood staining them, you provided no explanation. You’d basically sped in, Astarion trailing behind, and ran for a bucket of water. And stayed there. For hours. After the fact, you changed out the water, of course, but they weren’t concerned as much with the pink-tinted water as they were with the frantic nature you scraped the natural dye from your hands.

Astarion didn’t say anything either. A few of them had tried asking, but he smiled tersely and made an excuse that changed each time. “I was too distracted fighting a beast.” “You know how some people get with germs.” “They really hate the color red.” (This one was not said to Karlach, nor in her earshot.) 

It all came to a head at dinner, when you’d still provided no explanation. Gale handed out servings silently, staring at you as though studying a new specimen. Lae’zel watched you like a predator trying to defend her territory, prepared for the moment the intruder stepped over the line. Shadowheart barely repressed her scowl.

Wyll set down his bowl pointedly. “Haven’t you kept your secrets hidden long enough?” You raise your eyes from your barely-touched stew. You didn’t quite see him. Your mind lingered on the image of the Gur. “Do you expect us to continue following blindly while we pour our souls out for you?”

You bristled. The image disappeared, tucked away to haunt you later. “No. No, I’m sorry.” You sighed and set your bowl aside. Everyone watched you expectantly, more interested in what you could say than filling their bellies. “It’s just… difficult to talk about.”

“Speak,” Lae’zel encourages roughly. “We will listen.”

Astarion frowns at you. He’s taken to sitting beside you for ‘dinner’. They knew by now he wasn’t suited to eating normal food, but he didn’t quite trust them not to stake him through the heart or cut his head off. It was safest to linger by your side. The irony of your trust in him was not lost on him: You understood him best and you feared him the most. That fear may have dampened over time, but you still flinched at the gleam of his fangs, watched him as he left camp to hunt at night. Yet you’d bared your soul to him and him alone. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

You inhale, slow and shaky. Your hands fiddle in your lap, providing you some sort of distraction. It would not be enough to ground you to reality should the thoughts become too potent.

“I was… am,” you corrected unsurely, “a vampire’s thrall. She… uses me as a blood source. Has used me, for years. I’ve been stuck under her thumb since I was a teenager. It’s… easier to have one consistent source of food than to go out looking for it every night.

“When we were out in the woods,” you nod your head slightly toward Astarion, “there was a Gur. A monster hunter. A-And he said he was looking for a runaway.” Your breaths sharpen into quick, frightened little things. You nearly choke on them. You stare into the fire. Your nails start scratching at your hands. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. “He had nothing to go on, just a name, but I panicked and I- I killed him. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I could have explained everything. I could have paid him off. I could have-”

“Steady on, soldier,” Karlach interrupts. You can’t look at her, can’t draw your eyes away from the flickering flames, but you know she looks worried. It always amazed you how openly she wore her emotions, despite it all. “Take a breath, okay?”

Your nails stop scratching in favor of digging into your skin. You take a breath, slowly let it out, and your nails ease off. You run your fingertips mindlessly over the indents left behind.

You whisper, unable to raise your voice any further. “He said my master is in Berdusk.”

Quiet. Gale spoke up, voicing the awful realization everyone had. “That’s only a few miles from Baldur’s Gate.”

You nod.

“You’re marchin’ right back to her.” Karlach sighs, heavy and empathetic.

You finally lift your eyes from the fire. Everyone’s attention is on you, pitying and remorseful. “I have no choice. I can’t abandon you all just to run away. Especially with these tadpoles. I have no doubts she’ll find me quickly once we reach the city.”

“We could confront her,” Wyll suggests. “Go to Berdusk, face her head on, free you!”

“It’s not some goblin camp we can just walk into and clear out,” you protest. The idea thrills you to no end, but you cannot allow yourself that hope. Not when there is none. You will be found. Tonight, the next, a week from now. You’ll be locked back into your servitude. There is no chance you have to be free. “Killing a vampire lord isn’t- It’s not just-”

Astarion speaks up. You don’t expect it; he’d been so quiet this whole time. “If we can kill Cazador, we can kill Kir Parthene.” Your stomach rolls around at the sound of her name. “What makes facing my master any different from yours?”

You know the answer. Even if you don’t realize it yet, you know.

You have no qualms threatening Cazador. You’ve even told Astarion that you plan to help him kill his master, once and for all. Free him and his ‘siblings’, and rid Baldur’s Gate of the nighttime threat to its people. No longer would they have to go out, lure victims in as food for the vampire lord. It was so easy to promise. If you could help everyone else, why should you leave Astarion to the same fate you faced after this quest? He should be as free as possible from the chains binding him.

So why couldn’t you let them swear the same for you? What made Kir Parthene so different from Cazador? She was not stationed in as large a city, she did not steal souls off the street every night just for a quick meal, she did not personally carve poetry into the flesh of those beneath her. She had power, but no more than Cazador held. So why were you so reluctant to even dream of your freedom?

You were afraid.

Astarion can see the very second you know the answer to his question. Your eyes open a fraction wider, filling with a bottomless dread. Your heart stutters and your breath catches. He’s sure you’re on the verge of tears as you inhale a trembling breath, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, even as your fear squeezes your lungs.

“You won’t have to face her alone.” You turn to look at Shadowheart. “You’ve given us the strength to face our demons. We can help you face yours.”

You want to believe her. Believe all of them as they nod in agreement. Believe they could give you the strength you lacked, support you when you come face-to-face with her once more.

But then you see the deep crimson of her eyes and lips. You feel her nails digging into your skin. The cooing affections that come just after the harsh vitriol. Her teeth digging deep into your neck. How can you have any hope of facing her?

You shake your head and push yourself to your feet so fast Astarion is startled. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about this right now.” You abandon your dinner. It sits, lonely and growing cold, as you step away from the warm glow of the fire and the safety of your companions into the edge of trees surrounding your camp. You don’t go far, just far enough you can’t hear them speaking and they can’t see you collapse against a tree, clutching and clawing at your hands to remove the memories from your mind.

At least they know now.

---

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[indiphyr]

Every sapphic movie, show or book I like:

(* = favorites)

Movies:

Bend It Like Beckham (lesbian/trans coded)

Black Swan

*Bodies Bodies Bodies

*Booksmart

Bottoms

Braid

But I'm A Cheerleader

Dating Amber

*Death Becomes Her (sapphic coded)

D.E.B.S

Do Revenge

*Everything Everywhere All At Once

Fear Street

Fucking Åmål

*Ginger Snaps (sapphic/queer coded)

Hearts Beat Loud

Heart Shot

*Jennifer's Body

Joy Ride (I think one of the MCs is sapphic?)

Kajillionaire

May

My Days Of Mercy

*My First Summer

Nope (Sapphic sister I think?)

Pariah

Polite Society (either a lesbian or aroace mc)

Princess Cyd

Rafiki

Rye Lane (Sapphic coded MC)

Saint Maud

Saving Face

Set It Off

*Shiva Baby

*Sissy

Sweetheart

Unpregnant

The Fallout

The Half Of It

The Handmaiden

The Incredibly True Adventure of 2 Girls In Love

*The Miseducation Of Cameron Post

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Shows:

*A League Of Their Own

Adventure Time

*A Kind Of Spark (Keedie is not hetero)

*Anne With An E (sapphic coded)

American Horror Story

*Arcane

Betty

Black Cake

Derry Girls

Degrassi

Druck (seasons 5&6)

Everything Now

Everything Sucks (problematic actor age gap)

Everything's Gonna Be Okay

Faking It

First Kill

Gap: The Series

Genera+ion

Gentleman Jack

*Good Omens

Grease: Rise Of The Pink Ladies

*Hacks

*Heartbreak High

Heartstopper

I Am Not Okay With This

Killing Eve

Little Fires Everywhere

Lucifer

Minx

Motherland Fort Salem

One Day At A Time

Our Flag Means Death

*Paper Girls

*Peacemaker

Ratched

Sex Education

She-Ra

Stranger Things

*Such Brave Girls

Swarm

Teenage Bounty Hunters

*The Boys + Gen V

The Formal (tiktok/youtube series)

*The Good Place

The Haunting Of Bly Manor

The Last Of Us

The Legend Of Korra

*The Owl House

*The Power

*The Sex Lives Of College Girls

The White Lotus

*The Wilds

Upload

Vida

Warrior Nun

We Are Lady Parts

*What We Do In The Shadows

While The Men Are Away

Wo der Egg Priority

Xo, Kitty

*Yellowjackets

Books:

Ace Of Spades

*A Dowry Of Blood

Afterlove

Black Cake

*Black Girl, Call Home

Burn Down, Rise Up

Cinderella Is Dead

Clap When You Land

Crier's War

Dear Medusa

Girls Of Paper And Fire

Hani And Ishu's Guide To Fake Dating

*Her Body And Other Parties

Honey Girl

House Of Hunger

If You Still Recognise Me

It Goes Like This

In The Dream House

In The Ravenous Dark

I Who Have Never Known Men

You're Not Supposed To Die Tonight

*Keedie + A Kind Of Spark

Last Night At The Telegraph Club

*Legendborn (Sapphic SC)

Loveless (Sapphic SCs)

Music From Another World

Nothing Burns As Bright As Her

Not My Problem

Our Wives Under The Sea

Parachutes (Sapphic SC)

Perfect On Paper

Radio Silence

Rise To The Sun

She Gets The Girl

She Drives Me Crazy

*She Who Became The Sun

Siren Queen

The Chosen And The Beautiful

The Falling In Love Montage

The Girls I've Been

The Henna Wars

The Jasmine Throne

*The Kyoshi Novels

*The Locked Tomb Series

*The Mirror Season

The Nature Of Witches

*The Priory Of The Orange Tree

The River Has Teeth

*The Unbroken

These Witches Don't Burn

Graphic Novels:

*Are You Listening

Hi-Fi Club

Jook Joint

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me

*On A Sunbeam

*Paper Girls

*Spinning

The Avant-Guards

*The Tea Dragon Society

[renee-writer]

“An Unwanted LIFE”

There were no balloons announcing "It's a boy!" No sounds of laughter, no tears of joy.

No little onesies marked zero to three, no warm blankets soft and fluffy...It was a little past five when a little boy was born alive, a botched abortion, an unwanted life. Before the doctor could do what he needed to do, the little guy had pushed his way through. About the same time his mother came to, with me still holding the baby, the doctor nudged me from the room. We walked down the hall, far enough from there. With me muzzling his cries so she wouldn't hear. The doctor said, "Put him in here," as he held out a tub. So I placed him inside, still covered in blood.....Then I listened to the doctor tell her it all went as planned. Then I confirmed it with a smile and a pat on her hand. It was after seven when she left to go home. not knowing her baby was alive and alone. With medical attention, the baby would thrive...but protected by new law, we just left him to die. With the lid on the bin, we could still hear his cries as we closed the door and turned out the lights. We went home like we always did. But. if I could go back, he wouldn't be dead. And now, memories of him fill me with regret. His little face forever stuck in my head. How I found him the very next day, his body once pink, now a shocking blue-gray. He looked so helpless in that cold plastic bed. His body covered in dried blood, his hair matted to his head. What haunts me the most, was seeing him naked. He was given nothing, not even a blanket. His eyes wide open, seemed to stare right through me. Which left me feeling cold and terribly empty. The fear on his face as he struggled to breathe, the doctor and I both pretended not to see. I'm not talking about a woman's choice, I'm talking about a little infant who didn't have a voice. I'm not talking about a woman's right, but a tiny human being, a valuable life. I'm talking about an infant, not quite a day old, with big round eyes, and his mother's nose. With ten little fingers and ten perfect toes. With a head full of hair that curled around his ears, and chubby little cheeks wet with tears. He was never given a name. He was never measured or weighed. He died sometime in the night, scared and alone and too weak to fight. This happens more often then they want you to know, and former employees will tell you it's so. If this doesn't bother you, and you think it's okay then keep doing what you've been doing, and look the other way, I just hope I made you see it's not a woman's body, its a completely separate being. But, if you think life is more valuable than choice, then stand up and fight! Lift up your voice! Innocent blood has now covered this land, leaving us all with red-stained hands.

Written by Shawna Normal.

Please copy and paste.

[howlingday]

Can you remake that Barry scene where Barry is confronted by Albert please?

Previously

---------------------------------------------------

It was hot. So hot. But it must've been hotter in Hell, if that's where this asshole was now. Ren kicked his body into shallow grave he dug, panting from the effort he made in the hot, summer sun. God, it was so fucking hot.

"Lie Ren!"

He recognized that voice. Like the voice of an angel he'd known all his life, it called out to him. He slowly turned and found her standing in the distance. She was a good dozen yards away, but he could still recognize her pink and white outfit. Only thing missing from her usual look was her bright, chipper smile.

Ren stepped closer, away from the hole. His eyes grew hot as she stared at him.

"What are you doing, Ren?"

Ren couldn't answer.

"How much did you get for that asshole?" Again, no answer. No answer save for the shallow shaking of his head. "How much did they pay you?" He swallowed. "How much did you get Pyrrha?"

Ren's heart stopped. His blood ran cold.

"Huh?!" Nora barked. "How much, Lie Ren? HOW MUCH DID THEY PAY FOR PYRRHA?!"

Ren fell to his knees. He remembered the look in Pyrrha's eyes when she saw him last. Fear, horror, disgust, and... pity. The tears that should have fallen that night had come back to haunt him now.

"She was an innocent, Ren! And you gotta tell me right now, Ren! Why? Why Pyrrha? She was the sweetest person, and she looked up to all of us as much as we looked up to her!"

Memories rushed back as Ren's breath came out in shudders. The lunch and dinner dates. The camping trips. The hijinks. She smiled. She laughed. She haunted him, and Ren could barely breathe.

"But you had to kill her, right? So you need to tell me, Ren! Why Pyrrha?!" Still no answer. "Tell me, Ren! Tell me! TELL ME RIGHT NOW!" He struggled to look at her. "DON'T JUST FUCKING SIT THERE! YOU FUCKING TELL ME! TELL ME-" Nora rushed forward, Baretta M9 in hand and pointed at Ren.

Ren screamed as he curled into the ground. Pyrrha's ghost came back to haunt him from sobbing tears. Her ghost, and all the others he murdered for money. For greed. For simply looking at him the wrong way. The weight of it all came crashing down on top of him. In wailing screams and heaving tears, Ren finally answered Nora.

Nora held her gun in shaking hands, watching as the assassin she let into her home, into her life, sobbed like a child. Formerly so stoic, Ren let every emotion he'd bottled up for the past two or so decades spill out into the dry, thirsting earth. With sobbing wails, he said only one word.

"Don't!"

Nora lowered her gun.

"Ren. Ren, listen to me. Calm down." Nora gulped. "I have a son. His name is Magnum. He's six years old. His favorite food is french toast. I wouldn't know that last part if it wasn't for you. He wouldn't be here if you hadn't saved my life."

Ren looked up with weeping eyes for only a moment before returning his face to the dirt.

"I know evil, Ren. I've seen it. I know evil and I know you're not evil, Ren." She shook her head. "But this... This has to stop. All of it has to stop."

Ren gulped and looked up, meeting Nora's gaze.

"Starting... now." She blinked a few tears, then turned around. And after she turned around, she walked away.

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x reader - insane

Heyo, would you be willing to do 12, from your prompt list, with Hotch. - Anon💜

12. “Go ahead, call me the bad guy. But we all know who’s to blame for what I’ve become.”

Sitting in the interrogation room, you had your hands cuffed under the table, and your head was cast downwards.

You didn’t say anything as the door was open, even as the file was dropped on to the table.

“For someone who’s on trail for thirty separate offences you sure are quiet.”

You gave a small hum but didn’t say anything to the agent.

“Do you have anything to say.”

You refused to speak.

“What’s your name?”

You scoffed a little bit, smirking as you lifted your head to look at the two sat in front of you.

You lifted your chin and cocked your head to the side as the pair of them took a minute to register your face.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t recognise your own team member.”

“(Y/N)…” Emily whispered.

You grinned, splitting the stitch on your cheek, making blood slowly trickle down your face.

“Emily..”

“On it.”

You watched Emily run out and you turned to Derek, cocking your head a little as you locked eyes with him.

Without warning you pulled your hands down, rattling the table which made him jump back.

Laughing, you watched as the rest of the team came rushing in and you grinned at them all, still laughing madly.

“What’s wrong with her…?“ JJ asked.

“Her mental state has slipped, whatever happened to her over the past two years she’s lost sense of reality.” Reid whispered.

“Lost sense? I wouldn’t quite say that.”

You watched as they all whispered among themselves and you closed your eyes, tilting your head back.

You listened to them talk and smirked as you heard someone padding over.

“(Y/N)…?”

Opening your eyes, you snapped your head to the man in front of you.

“Aaron Hotchner, such happiness we had.”

“What happened to you?“ he asked softly.

You hummed to yourself.

“I found a new career.”

“In killing people?” He snapped.

He was torn between feeling upset and feeling furious.

The you he knew wouldn’t have dared to hurt a soul, it just wasn’t you.

However, as he looked into your eyes. He wasn’t sure that he was looking at you.

You were scarred on the right side of your face, your eye nothing but a light grey colour as the light pink lines trailed down your face.

You weren’t his (Y/N).

“What did they do to you?”

“They showed me who I really am!”

“No… no they’ve turned you into a killer…”

Your grin fell and you frowned as you looked down slightly.

This time you looked more like yourself, even if you were a former shell of who you were.

“Go ahead, call me the bad guy. But we all know who’s to blame for what I’ve become.”

“What…?”

You locked eyes with him and glared harshly.

“YOU left me behind. YOU were the one who sent me in there. YOU were the one who ran when things got hard.”

“(Y/N) you need to understand…”

“You promised the world to me and that was a goddamn lie! Look at the bigger picture people change and I wish I had died!”

“You don’t me that…”

“I mean every word…”

“You just need help. You can change.. you need to understand I did what I could…”

“What?! That you left me to die because you got what you needed! You left me there Aaron!”

You yanked your arms downed, trying to break the cuffs as you looked eye contact with him.

It was Rossi and Derek that pinned you down. Forcing you to sit in the chair.

You heaved, sneering at your former boss.

“They gave me a choice of life and death… I chose life!” You spat.

Quickly everyone left while you sat there screaming and shouting.

Your words followed behind Hotch, haunting him.

Because he knew they were true.

If he has just turned around, he would have been able to save you. He could have changed the outcome of the person you were today.

You were insane.

And it was all his fault.

After taking a breather he made his way back inside and looked through the glass at you.

You were smiling anymore, you were simply staring directly at nothing.

There was nothing he could for for you now

[lokislastlove]

In Memoriam (Dark! Steve, Bucky & Sam x Reader) 4

Summary: After the death of your grandmother you make a trip to visit her old estate, and you discover it may be more trouble than it’s worth.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, ghosts, smut, bondage, thigh riding, spanking, rough sex, oral sex, over stimulation, mentions of death, allusions of abuse. 18+ only peeps, it’s obviously dark.

Notes: well this started as a tiny idea for @charmed-asylums bingo challenge! (Congrats, love. You’re amazing!) and it kinda spiraled into this craziness. Also there is a surprise guest, but I don’t feel like giving it away so… hope you enjoy! ❤️

Chapter 4:

You would have thought you’d be stronger, more clever and resilient in this situation. But as the feel of his touch lingers on your neck, your body grows heavy and you sink into the bed in dismay. How can you possibly expect to escape an Avenger?

You sit there in silence as the sun lowers in the sky, the pink glow of the sunset filtering through the sheer curtains hung along the bay window. Your ears perk as you hear the tinny echo of voices rising from the vent in the floor. You crawl off the bed and slowly lower yourself to the ground to listen.

“What do you want from me Steve? She came poking around the basement. I had to do something.”

Steve… as in Steve Rogers? Your mind flashes between the various news reports and the memory of the three men in that car who just happened to follow you here. This is insane. Why would they follow you?

“She was asleep when we left. Why the sudden exploration?”

“He was probably watching her again. Woke her up being a creep, huh Buck?” You recognize the third voice as the man from the porch.

“You’re one to talk Sam. Making up any excuse you can to talk to her,” Bucky spits angrily.

“Buck… have you been sneaking out to watch her?”

There is a short pause, your blood going cold as you think back to all the curious creaks and noises that stirred you awake in the night. How you so easily ignored them, blamed them on the old house or even bought into the whole haunted scenario. Could it all have just been him?

“That’s a yes,” Sam snarks.

“Bucky, the point was to lie low. Why would you take that risk?”

“Risk?” Bucky scoffs. “She’s hardly a risk. She’s alone and I feel like I’m going crazy hiding out in that creepy old basement.”

“Ok so what’s your plan now, genius? You gonna just keep her locked up there forever until we move on?”

Another pause in the conversation has you pressing your ear to the grate, hopeful that one of them might do the decent thing. Then Steve’s voice reaches your ear.

“Did you take her phone and keys? … Then I suppose that’s our best option for now.”

—

The morning comes quickly, with a knock on the door and a familiar face poking into the room. The golden haired hero slides through the narrow gap, careful to keep a respectful distance as he sets a tray of breakfast on your side table.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he says warmly, ignoring your not-so-subtle glare.

“How long have you all been in my house?” You demand sharply. Most of your questions were answered after overhearing their conversations last night. “I get why you’re hiding. I’ve seen the reports like everyone. But why me? Why here?”

His jaw clenches as he thinks and looks down with a sigh. “We overheard you in the diner, you were an easy target. I understand you’re afraid, but I promise we’re not here to hurt you.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” You scoff, “Sam wasn’t kidding when he said you were close by.”

You let out a cynical laugh as you mentally kick yourself for being so stupid. You knew something felt off in the house. All the signs were there, but you were too quick to believe in fanciful ghosts to see what was right in front of you.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. We could help you. Help you fix this place up in exchange for a little discretion and a place to stay,” he asserts softly, voice commanding but warm. It’s easy to see why he’s called ‘Captain’.

“I want you to leave.”

He sighs, pushing his leather coat back so he can rest his hands on his hips, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Then let me leave.”

“I can’t do that either.”

You close your eyes and bite your tongue. It’s probably best to control your rage, if Steve can’t be convinced then none of them will be. Your best chance is to try to play nice until you can find a chance to escape, so you’ll have to be convincing.

“Okay,” you mutter quietly in resignation.

Steve smiles and nods, “eat up. When you’re feeling up to it you can come down and start delegating.”

You nod as he leaves you alone once more, closing your door softly. A drawing of you and Arvin playing in some sort of triangular cave flutters to the floor and you stare at it, longing to return to the previous day when all you had to worry about were lost memories.

—

If only your brother were here to see this. As one of the loyalists to Captain America, he refused to believe he would be a traitor, claiming there had to be more to it. You wonder if he would still feel that way if he knew they were the reason you were unable to answer the phone.

“You know, my brother thinks this place is haunted and he’s already worried about me… if you don’t let me talk to him he’s probably going to come looking for me,” you note from the faded loveseat while the men paint the main sitting room.

“Great, then you’ll have someone to share that couch with,” Sam sasses and you scowl.

“He thinks this place is haunted?” Bucky wonders curiously.

You raise a brow at the mild concern in Bucky’s voice, he doesn’t seem the type to be afraid of anything. “Yes,” you say flatly and his eyes shift uncomfortably.

“Don’t start, Buck,” Steve dismisses him as he dusts off his hands. “Funny how a little bit of paint can really spruce up the place.”

He admires the navy blue walls as they dry, a notable improvement over the old browning wallpaper. You can’t deny they are a quick and efficient crew, showing more attention to detail than you would expect from criminals.

“How about I go make lunch? It’s tedious sitting here watching you,” you grumble.

“Getting restless little busy bee?” Sam chuckles darkly. “I’m sure we can find … something … for you to do.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes wander and the small smirk that creeps onto his face, making you shut up instantly. A cold slimy sensation crawls down your back and you try to sink into the couch, the implication of his joke making you want to fade away. Bucky laughs under his breath at the way you cower demurely until Steve barks, “enough you two.”

“I’m just playing,” Sam jokes, though his eyes drift back to you as Steve looks away.

“I think lunch sounds like a good idea,” Steve announces before he wanders from the room, presumably toward the kitchen.

Sam hops down from the tall ladder he used to reach the edges along the ceiling and towels off his paint-stained hands. He tosses it to Bucky who leers at you from a distance while Sam slowly nears.

“You hungry for anything in particular, little bee?” Sam smirks leaning down and placing his hands on the cushions arms, showing off his impressive wingspan. Those big brown eyes you once thought beautiful are dark with a hunger of their own. “I’ll bet I could whip something outn for ya,” he winks.

“Shit!” Bucky exclaims as the tall ladder wobbles and falls toward an unaware Sam.

The top step collides with his backside and he howls in surprise as it forces him into you. He gets up awkwardly and rubs his lower back as he swings around to glare at a wide-eyed Bucky.

“What the hell was that?” Sam accuses.

Bucky shakes his head, his brow pinched, “it wasn’t me.”

“You trying to tell me Steve did that?” Sam scoffs.

They start to argue, voices rising as they bump chests and try to goad each other into a fight.

“What the hell is going on? I leave for two minutes and you’re already at each other’s throats?” Steve interrupts taking in the scene with an exhausted sigh. “Find a better way to vent your frustration. I know this is hard but we’re all we have right now.”

“Your right,” Sam concedes apologetically.

Bucky looks down and mutters, “sorry.”

“Bucky take her to her room. Sam and I have to run an unexpected errand,” Steve says, giving Sam a pointed look.

Bucky’s piercing eyes land on you and you push yourself into the chair further. He nears you as the other two leave, Sam following Steve with a disappointed frown.

“Up,” Bucky orders and you stand, trying to lean as far away from him as possible.

You quickly step ahead of him, and toward the stairs. No point in fighting, it’s gotten you nowhere so far. You can feel his eyes on your ass, a happy hum reaching your ears as you start to climb the steps. You quickly get to your door and turn to close it behind you. You don’t care if you’re a prisoner in your room, as long as there’s something to keep him away.

His metal fingers slip between the frame before you can close it completely. You gasp as he pushes the door open and steps inside, forcing you to flee to the other side of the room.

“What do you want?” Your voice shakes.

He smirks at the question, “I want a lot of things… but for now…” his eyes drift from you to the box of pictures sprawled across the bed, “why don’t you tell me a little more about this house of yours.”

He pulls over one of the small armchairs and places it in front of the door, sitting there with an expectant expression. You hesitate, unsure of what he wants you to say.

“It’s just us for a while… so you can talk and tell me what I want to know, or…” his eyes glide down your body, “I can think of something else for us to do.”

You swallow and sputter as you launch into a long winded history lesson of the house, or at least as much as you can remember. You go slow, not keen on ending it quickly and risk discovering some of those other methods of entertainment. Bucky is attentive, his expressions unreadable though he occasionally interrupts to ask a question.

“This ‘imaginary friend’ of yours, what did he look like?” he asks, his pensive expression fixed on the drawings.

Your face twists, “why do you care?”

“Just tell me,” his eyes snap to you angrily.

“Light brown hair, square jaw, thin lips, straight nose, brown eyes… he’s sweet, got a nice smile,” you close your eyes as you picture him and smile softly.

“Hmm,” Bucky hums thoughtfully and nods along with your description.

Your smile fades as you watch him, “what?”

There’s a long pause as Bucky drags his stormy blue eyes back to yours and says, “I think I’ve seen him.”

Tagging: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @queenoftheworldisdead @threeminutesoflife @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @emberenchanted @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken @patzammit @maluisamarvelfan123 @cjand10

[dboliklover]

Breathless Whispers - Shu

My new series. Will take a while to complete (don’t mind the fact I am STILL working on the Easter Smut series). It’s based off an ask I got and is very sinful and I implore everyone who is triggered by the following to NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES. The tags will vary from each entry but “Breathless Whispers” is a SAKAMAKI BROTHERS X STEPMOTHER! READER Smut series. As such Cheating/Adultery and pseudo-incest/stepcest are always going to be included in the chapters. 

Tags for this chapter: Stepcest/pseudo-incest, cheating, NTR (Netorare) ((Karlheinz gets cucked)), dub-con (the reader believes she has feelings for Shu), dubiously-consensual implied impregnation, mentions of pregnancy, blood, and my out-of-practice smut writing skills that border on cringe, Happy sex (?) 

This is as vanilla as it’s gonna get for this series, methinks. Next chapter it’s Reiji’s turn. ;) Happy sinning ❤

WORD COUNT: 5.8K (11 pages)

___

In his life, Shu learnt to try to ignore meaningless things around him and to feel as precious little as possible - he didn’t need to feel, it added no enhancement to his life. To love was to have weakness and those he loved and cared for often ended tragically.

It was only natural that he chose to stick to himself and become a solitary creature after all that he’s been through, was it not? Solitude meant safety. Slowly but surely Shu cut as many emotions away with a metaphorical knife as he could, opting instead to be careless regarding all matters. He didn’t need anyone else, just himself. Only himself.

But there was one emotion that refused to leave, one emotion he would never allow the chance to withdraw from his heart - hatred. Pure, unadulterated loathing towards the man who caused his, his brothers’ and their mothers’ tragedies - Karlheinz. The hatred he felt was coated by a layer of would-be indifference - he knew better than to challenge the man, at least for the meanwhile - memories from the North Pole haunted him still. His father was a cruel, demanding man and Shu felt abhorrence, perhaps it did not reach the hatred felt by some other brothers but it was there and undying.

Karlheinz’s largest sin of all was the pain he caused his mother - the burdens he put onto him were a close second, however. But Beatrix’s suffering still wounded Shu to think about even after so many years had passed. The guilt instilled in him from that time flowed through his veins, unrelenting. His mother had her streaks of emotionally tormenting him but after all she merely wanted to prepare him for a difficult life ahead and Shu missed her presence as demanding as it was. And that was why when his father chose to re-marry yet again, Shu felt nothing but slight pity for the bride but regardless, he felt towards her as he did with most things; wholly indifferent. That was, of course, until he got to know the woman - he recalled the wedding day, it was a boring event and the fact his appearance had to be publicly seen bothered him for he’d much rather be doing anything but - still, he did as told and attended, albeit with minimal effort.

You made for a blushing bride, he couldn’t deny that. Glamorous appearance was hardly something he heeded though, and his father was known for choosing beautiful women as his wives - you knew nothing of the terrible fate that was bound to befall you in the coming months or years. At least all the other wives were long dead, namely Cordelia (whose torments only fed into the neglect his father served his mother, furthering her agonies) so you’d have no other competitors for Karlheinz’s horrid affections. He felt nothing for you, then. But unbeknownst to him, that detachment would not last forever and soon thereafter Karlheinz sent his bride away to live with his sons: what drove his father to such a foolish decision baffled Shu and he felt it somewhat of a ploy, another experiment to conduct. Maybe it was, but then again it only wasted time and energy to speculate on what went through Karlheinz’s mind. But you were their new stepmother, not one of their sacrificial brides; that was made clear, if unspoken. You were not their shared property but the property of the vampire king and it was to be respected, even if you had a puppet authority or no true power over them.

He avoided you at first, in his mind getting to know anyone was worthless;  and yet you persisted under the guise of ‘getting to know’ him and the others, wanting a relationship with your new stepsons. None of them really wanted a relationship with you, except for perhaps Reiji who hoped that you’d speak well of him to his father, ever-the-suckup.

You were a vampire of course, although it was surprising to learn that you were not a pureblood as they were. Karlheinz always made his decisions for a reason and he knew the reason for marrying you wasn’t love: therefore must’ve been something else entirely.

Karlheinz was incapable of love.

Gradually he found himself enjoying your attempted affections and voice - you figured out his disposition and chose to talk to him without expecting anything more than grunts and hums in return, knowing he preferred to listen to his music. Even he wasn’t sure at what point in your relationship he started to favour the sound of your melodious voice to his earphones, but it happened and he soon found himself turning down the volume as you spoke about your day if only to listen to your sweet voice far more vividly. He started to seek you out, something...unusual growing in his soul at the sight of you - he began appearing in places you were around the mansion, silently guarding you against the likes of the others (such as Laito). He liked being around you - a feeling he’d lost long ago ever since the “death” of Edgar - true companionship. But it couldn’t last perpetually, as nothing ever could, and those amicable feelings grew until they bloomed into something far darker than protectiveness towards his new stepmother and prospective friend - his heart yearned for you in the most unusual ways. It was troublesome for an overwhelming variety of reasons, primarily because he couldn’t have you. His romantic intentions soon turned to a subtle obsession. He needed to be close to you, always there - watching.

You’d always smile and greet him pleasantly, innocently - how on earth you could be so innocent after centuries’ worth of living on this earth, much less so after marrying Karlheinz, he had no clue. Your naivety and sweet nature brought him to you, made him fall into insanity because of you. It wasn’t instantaneous, things rarely were. Months went by but eventually he could no longer cope, his dreams were haunted by your form and always the exact same: you laid nude, breasts perfect and demure for him to corrupt, moaning out his name like the most delightful song from an ephemeral musical meant only for him. But when he awoke he was alone.

You tempted him without even knowing it but it was only a matter of time before it would come back to haunt you, he couldn’t be expected to have control over his instincts and needs forever and the time came when he finally snapped.

Stepmother or not, he was going to have you. In a way, it served as the most exquisite form of perceived vengeance towards that man - to steal his wife. He was hesitant about how to approach his desire to seduce you, such things were really more of Laito’s expertise, but he’d be damned if he failed to achieve his goals. You were too good for Karlheinz - a kindly thing to the point of intoxication and frustration, too pure for a vampire. He wanted to be the one to fully spoil your spirit, he wouldn’t permit his father to shatter your psyche as he did with all his previous wives. Shu was going to protect you, but in order to do that he first had to take you; claim you for himself. And that’s when he came across the most intriguing sight: your hushed moans of pleasure as your [slender/chubby/elegant] fingers stroked your glistening cunt in your private chambers - the same chambers which were supposed to be blessed in sacred matrimony if only his father hadn’t left you here all alone at the mercy of his ravenous sons. He must’ve assumed such a thing would happen sooner or later, hadn’t he? If not, then...well, Shu couldn’t help but think it his father’s loss from his own folly. “Shu.” Your angelic voice uttered his name - not his father’s, not your husband’s - but his. In your moment of unholy ecstasy, it was him on your mind; thoughts of him that edged you to your bliss. His obsessive passions were returned to him in kind, it seemed, and he couldn’t be more glad.

“Shu?” You questioned the following evening at dusk, that blossom-pink blush dusting your cheeks like an undead Aphrodite, tempting him further into his hidden lustful hunger, “Is...is everything okay? You’ve been staring at me all evening and I just wanted to ask if there’s something wrong-” He sighed, eyes half-lidded as if tired but it was his internal frustration revealed. “There is.” “Oh?” You pouted and fuck, he wanted to bruise your plump lips right there and then until they held his mark. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” It was a lie, of course, but he was a guarded man and his words reflected that. “Shu…? What do you mean?” The sadistic aspect of him was fuelled by the subtle distress in your eyes, however, you tried to remain calm, he’d said harsher things and you knew he scarcely ever meant them but something...something seemed so offbeat tonight. No, not just tonight - as of recently, but you couldn’t place a finger on the exact date when things began to change between you.

Your hands were down, pressed together as your thumbs nervously rubbed the other. You just wanted answers. “Heh,” He smirked, “You have no idea how alluring you are, do you?” His tired eyes stared earnestly into your soul and you felt stripped of your integrity. An innocent blush flooded your visage with lecherous embarrassment at such a sensual suggestion, sputtering out various syllables as you rushed to find your footing and speak out in protest of such an inappropriate topic between mother and son - that was what you were, related or not...you were his mother, even if merely by marriage. Guilt clogged your throat up as you thought of your own lust for your stepson, he was only slightly younger than you were and handsome beyond compare (as much as you loathed to admit it, your carnal self preferred Shu’s indescribable silent grace and steely blue eyes to the snowy tresses of his father) and disgust for yourself stung you deeper than a knife dipped in holy water - had he...witnessed your acts of depravity in your chambers? Did he know? “S-Shu, I...I don’t know what you mean,” You were drowning, unable to form proper words, “Don’t.” He cut you off before you could deny what you both knew at that moment. You weren’t as innocent and proper as you made yourself out to be. As you wished to be. No, you were a creature of tainted prurience and Shu was more than happy to play into your fantasies. You paled and nodded, if you were human your heart would’ve surely been palpitating by now. Fear wholly consumed you - would he be disgusted by you - no, he would’ve made that clear by now. Shu hid his thoughts and feelings from others but if he’d felt abhorrent disgust he wouldn’t have chosen to speak to you or indeed even be around you, you trusted that truth if nothing else. But then there was only one explanation for his demeanour, one that made you clench your thighs tight as you stood before him, a woman. He stood from his seat, no longer laying on the windowsill. “You’ve been a terrible wife,” Tears of crimson welled in your eyes while your knees felt weak but you nodded, ashamed. “Yes.” “And a filthy mother,” His harsh breath on your ear and neck made you whimper, “Y...yes,” You stuttered out with another whimpering moan, “Shu please don’t toy with me, I’m sorry I-” Without another sound escaping your painted lips you felt the amorous pressure of your stepson’s kiss, disclosing the intense emotions he returned for you. Your mind screamed at you for your sins and yet you were both inhuman creatures; Perpetuity of faithfulness was boresome and your husband had done little but ignore you and your hopes for a good life. Shu, however, had been there since the beginning of your marriage - even if you’d started out as nothing more than his father’s wife - now you were so much more, immensely more. Your knees buckled as you gave into the kiss, unable to avoid your feelings for him a second longer - you needed him just like this and he needed you too.

Human or not, the inherent wrongness burned your flesh and chest. You’d tried to be a good wife but your husband had practically abandoned you here with his sons bred for him by other women, he’d left you here and did little to even write to you. Loneliness was an obvious side-effect and it was only a matter of time before you would’ve fallen into another’s arms. But your debauchery brought you right into his son’s embrace. A terrible wife indeed.

Shu devoured your moans, swallowing your lust and increasing his own as his ample size grew in the confinements of his pants. “Fuck,” He huffed out as you pulled away from him, blinking. Your thighs burned with a need only he could satisfy. A shy hand wandered down his body towards his growing erection, stroking it from the fabric of his pants. Your efforts were rewarded by the sound of his deep groans. How long had it been since anyone touched you like this? Since you’d been able to make someone feel unutterable pleasure - since anyone made you feel wanted? You had slept with Karlheinz only a couple of times and he failed to sate your inner hunger as Shu was doing with only kisses and loving groans. “You’re playing with fire,” He breathed out, staring at you and sealing you in place. “I...know,” You swallowed thickly, “P-please, I...I need-” “What do you need, whore?” His teasing words of degradation made you feel alive, you were the object of his uttermost attention. His lips traced your neck, licking and gnawing but never piercing, fangs flying over the tender flesh. “You.” The certainty in your otherwise meek voice nearly made him burst right there. He was done restraining himself, pearly fangs sharper than needles pierced your neck as Shu drank the sweet nectar beneath. Your pleasured moans filled the hallways of the Sakamaki manor and he prayed his brothers could hear you wherever they were knowing that he won you. And he was going to keep you. You were going to no longer be just his stepmother - you would be his woman.

The blood, thick and plentiful, dripped down your neck. The droplets were not wasted as his tongue gathered them before they could drip onto the marble flooring. Shu was going to get addicted to this taste - your taste - he was sure of it. This was what you were made for; to belong to him. As he did this you toyed with his pants, unzipping them and releasing his erect cock from its prison, letting it spring free, wet with precum. “Oh fuck,” You whimpered at the sensation, pumping up and down his length. You wanted this, you wanted him so badly. You could feel yourself slowly dripping with clenched thighs. This was wrong - it was revolting - but you couldn’t stop the heat inside you, your inner desires. On your quest to befriend your sons you inadvertently ended up falling in love with one of them and never before had you longed to be held by someone as you did when you were with him.  

You wanted to be his, no one else’s. But you couldn’t be, for you already were a taken woman; despite the truth, you wanted to succumb to your immorality; to pretend that, for tonight alone, you were his.

Once he pulled away from your neck Shu chuckled lowly, “You’re such a lewd slut, mother.” You cringed at the name, reminding yourself of the positions between you two and, for a short-lived second, you attempted to pull away except the moment you did he caged in on you, back shoved against the wall with burning eyes glaring at you. “But you’re going to be my slut from now on.” his breath hitched as your hand movements sped up, blushing crimson from your wicked sensuality. You were loving this, in all its sinfulness. “Y-Yes,” You choked out submissively as you brought him to his edge, creamy cum coating your hand and sinking into the fabric of your dress, physically tainting you. It drove you wild.

The sight of you in front of him, dress dripping with his cum made him hard almost instantly as he ordered you to strip for him after he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the empty music room - he didn’t want to be interrupted by any of his bothersome brothers.

“Strip for me.”

You nodded and bit down harshly on your lip, droplets of blood still flowing from your neck at the open puncture wound, staining the white semen-soaked fabric as you unzipped the back and slowly released your hold on it as it fell down your form until you were exposed in only your undergarments, intimate and raw. This was incredibly embarrassing and yet, for him...you didn’t mind humiliating yourself. You were convinced of it, now: you were in love with him. Soft hands twirled around to unclip your bra, feeling as though it wasn’t merely your body which you were exposing to him but your very being as your breasts bounced free from the cups’ confinements, bra forgotten as you threw it down onto the floor, not caring about anything else but him. ‘Don’t do this’, your sanity pleaded but whatever morality may have existed in the cage of your heart was extinguished with a single gaze into his yearning eyes. If you didn’t do this the lack of his touch on your skin would surely drive you insane. You just wanted to be loved, cherished and used.

You were married - and although that sentiment alone should have been enough to snap you out of this sexual haze you were trapped in, it did little to sway your lust-filled judgement. Swallowing nervously your fingers dipped below the strips of your panties, sliding down your silky thighs, pride consumed you as you watched his subtle but intense reactions, the way his thick member twitched in anticipation made you feel powerful for the first time in your life. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. “Come here,” He growled, making you squeal as you nodded like a good little whore and fell onto your knees, crawling over to him - you felt like putting on a show for him, filled with risque concupiscence. If your husband was to ever find out you feared the consequences and despite the dangers, it drove you further into the arms of his eldest son to consider how taboo, how wrong such a union was. There was something unspokenly intimate about this. An intimacy from which you never wished to awaken. As soon as you were at his feet you admired his cock, glistening from residue cum in the moonlight. “Oh God,” You were about to cross a border from which you could never return and it turned you on profoundly to think about how your relationship would develop from here. Opening your mouth, you took his length inside your warmth, (e/c) eyes staring up at him like a sweet gazelle, pumping your head up and down and twisting your tongue around him as you sucked his member with a fierce determination to please. He believed this was the closest to heaven he would ever be; you, his personal fallen angel at his feet, his cock in your mouth.

Shu thought you were perfect just like this; doing all the work as you fucked your mouth on his cock, giving him your all as he sat back, eyes fluttering shut to focus on the pleasure you were providing. You were so good for him, such a pretty girl. Such an ideal woman, his woman. Further lewd commentary fell from his lips as he prompted you on. He wanted you on your knees for him each night, and you would be. He would make sure that things would stay this way forever now he was so close to having you all to himself. Even if it meant having to fight against his father, even if it meant the most intensive of efforts and having to use all the energy he had stored in his muscles - though he’d never utter it aloud, for you he would do anything.

Even if the only way to keep you would be to commit patricide. You were worth it. Just before his release, he pulled your head back by gripping your hair forcefully causing a pained yell to escape from you, your voice full of physical anguish that set off a primal need within his chest. “That’s enough.” He then lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, “Ride me.” You gulped back the juices in your mouth and shakily stood as your thighs were flooded with slick. “Y-Yes I…” You blushed vehemently as you aligned yourself with his cock, sucking in a sharp hiss as you felt the heat of it against your burning cunt. “I want you to make me yours.” Instantly you sat down, thighs clenched as your walls adjusted to the intrusion, making you cry out in ecstasy. Did you seriously almost orgasm simply from having his length inside of you? You couldn’t be blamed - not when your husband had neglected you. But it was going to be all better now that Shu was here to help you. Just as a good stepson should. “Fuck,” He gasped out quietly, breath falling from his chest. You were so fucking tight he could’ve potentially fooled himself into believing you were still virginal. That was, of course, until he reminded himself that his father stole that honour for himself and elicited underlying rage in Shu. With the buck of his hips he drove himself inside you as you cried out his name, holding tightly onto him, arms tied around his neck as you rode him, clumsily moving your hips and revealing your sexual inexperience to him; the knowledge that his father didn’t seem to take any time cherishing your body like this, lewd and sinful, eased him somewhat because it meant he could be the one to make you completely lose your mind and become his perfect little whore.

Maybe he’d even make you his wife, along the way.

His arms held your waist and he lazily guided the movement of your hips. You were insatiable, rapid. He could tell you wanted to go faster but his strong hands consistently ceased your attempts - he was going to force you to take your time, to truly feel the way his cock filled your insides, to ensure your walls would take the shape of his dick.

He wanted you to know that he was superior to his father, that no one could ever please you better. He never felt so attached to anyone prior to you, you did something to him. Something dark. Enchanting. And he was never going to let you go after this. By giving your body to him, you have given yourself in your totality.

Even if you didn’t know it quite yet, or didn’t fully apprehend the consequences sex with him would bring.

Your whines became far more desperate with each blunt thrust. Slow, steady but forceful; Shu’s cock reached into the deepest parts of you, lovingly rubbing your cunt. It was indisputable that he was focused on your enjoyment as much as he was on his - it wasn’t anything like what sex with Karlheinz was like, he was self-gratifying and solely cared about his own high, Shu (much to your surprise) paid attention to your smallest reactions to ensure this was as great for you as it was for him. His fingers delved below and started to mercilessly torment your clit, electricity flying through your spine and cunt clenching as more love juices were produced, soaking his cock and helping to lubricate the thrusts.

He wanted to show you how mindblowing sex with him could be, to show you he could love you in ways no one else ever could. In the eyes of his brothers, especially in Reiji and Ayato’s point-of-view, he was the one who got everything; the golden, careless heir. But they did not and would never understand that he had everything he didn’t want. His entire life the things he truly yearned for were stolen from him, his happiness, his innocence, his friends and beloved companions of human and animal kind; destroyed, ruined, killed. It reared his indifference to the material goods he possessed for they held absolutely no value of their own. And now there was you. You, you, you. Sakamaki Shu knew that, without a single shred of disbelief, he would happily give up all of this if it meant he got to keep you. All the wealth and grandeur and power that his position brought was worthless in comparison to his beloved whore whimpering above him as she impaled herself on his cock.

“S-Shu,” You moaned out into his ear, “Fa...faster, please,” You choked back spit as you made feeble attempts to catch your breath, the intense friction between your joined bodies making it difficult to think. It wasn’t as rough or primal as you initially thought it would be like, it was...better than that, intimate. Was this what they mean when they say sex can be ‘making love’? This closeness between bodies as they become one, the heat and passion in the air and bouncing breasts and thighs clasped around one’s lover? It wasn’t fucking - it was so much more. A proclamation of love, even, though you could never dare and utter that belief out loud. His self-satisfied comments, “Hm,” He playfully paused completely, making your eyes widen as you stared at him with desperation for him to continue, to let you reach your climax. Your nails scratched his back like a needy brat as you cried out pleas, “Please - please Shu, I need you to keep going I-” You swallowed thickly, blinking wildly as your core ached without movement and he kept your hips down, unable to fuck yourself on his dick regardless of how hard you tried. “Say you love me.” “W-What?” You gasped out, sweaty and needy but with enough common sense to know that saying something like that to him - even if it was true - would seal a secret deal between lovers, it would open all the nightmares of your very own Pandora’s Box.

But you loved him - you did, somewhere along the way you became enamoured by your stepson and now he was inside of you, fucking you with a tenderness that made you sure that he must love you, too. “I…” You smiled weakly, genuinely. You pulled back ever-so-slightly, (e/c) eyes sinking into his. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that he was finally permitting you to see; he trusted you with his heart, you could see that now. Your hand stroked his cheek, his hard dick still throbbing inside of you (you knew he wanted to keep going but held himself back, resolved to get what he wanted out of you). He melted into the caress, your hands were soft as angel feathers. “I am in love with you, Sakamaki Shu.” Despite the arousal that filled your mind you earnestly tried to convey the true depth of your affections for him and it seemed to awaken the beast of passion as he soon started to bounce you up and down his thick, throbbing member at a speed only vampires could achieve, determined to claim your womb for his own.

It wasn’t hard to notice your maternal longings, your desire to baby the boys despite their inherent aggression towards you all but proved it. And if was a baby you wanted, well...who was he to deny you of that right? His hushed grunts only sent you further into ecstasy - You had the power of feminine sexuality over him and it gave you somewhat of a power rush. It was paradise - not worthless fucking like animals - but true divinity here in his arms, where you felt appreciated and loved and as though you finally had a raison d’etre - You wanted to be his so badly it caused you physical anguish but you were his if only for the moment, connected to him so snugly. “I love you,” You sobbed out as tears welled in your eyes from the intense satisfaction and your own emotions coming to the surface, “I love you, I love you,” Each word sent Shu into a brand new dimension of rapture. You loved him, you loved him - more than anyone else in this world. If binding your bodies together didn’t officially make you his your whimpering confessions just did. The urge to impregnate you with his seed only grew with every passing moment as you mechanically moved in perfect timing to his thrusts, nails once again clawing at his flesh. “That’s a-” He inhaled sharply, stopping mid-moan, “That’s a good girl,” He breathed heavily, you felt so perfect on his dick, his personal cockslut, the love of his life, stepmother and soon; the mother of his children. “F-Fuck you’re going to look...fucking amazing,” He sighed out as he felt your fluttering walls try their hardest to milk him, “When you’re swollen with my troublesome brats, heh…” He could only smugly smile at your immediate reaction to the statement being to clunch down on him, tightening as if your womb was begging him to cum inside, to fertilise your pussy and breed you over and over. “Pregnant?” You exhaled out, teary-eyed as you locked your eyes with him, fucked out to the high heavens with sweat causing your hair to stick to your reddened forehead and lipstick smudged with perky, puffed lips. “Yo-You want to get me pregnant…?” The timidity of your voice betrayed your excitement. Logically you wanted to escape, to push him away and scold him for even suggesting such a thing - you couldn’t become pregnant with his child! It was atrocious enough that you were currently having this affair with him, your stepson, but to be bred by him was in a category all of its own - truly disgusting.

No matter how much your husband neglected you he didn’t deserve to for his wife to not only cheat on him with his own son but to be inseminated by him - but the inner beast within you was wanton, a silent whisper in your mind that tried to persuade you to surrender fully to your hopes for motherhood, to allow this man in front of you, this beautiful vampiric prince, to fill you with his seed and claim you as his bitch, his bride; to be stolen from the man you originally wed and live your eternity as Shu’s whore. “I-...we can’t, Shu! We-” Morals renewed, you tried to get through to him, “Please-” “Shut up.” He ordered and you instantly did as told, being the good girl that you were. “Don’t lie to me. You’re loving the-” He moaned, “-idea of...of my children growing inside of you. I felt you tighten up at the notion, you’re such a fucking lewd woman. My lewd slut.” You hated yourself because you knew he was right; it was true. You wanted this so badly, to give birth to his kin, to feel your uterus painted white with his cum. Primal needs craved relief. “No, we...we can’t, I...don’t…” You choked on your words as he kissed you roughly, his thumb on your clit twirling and pulling until you were unable to form anything more coherent than mindless stutters. “S-Shu! Fuck, fuck, fuck I...I...I love you! I do! I do, please I just...I want-” “What do you want, pretty whore?” “...I want, I w….want your cum! I need it, I need you to fill me up and get me pregnant!” The last remainder of your will crumbled under the pressure of your sudden orgasm. ‘I’m so sorry, Karl…’ you thought bitterly as amazement overtook you, making you screech in the midst of the night in the moonlight, squeezing the lifeforce out of your stepson’s dick. Shu groaned and laughed in dark victory as you came undone around him, biting into his neck instinctively mid-orgasm. The sharp sensation was enough to push him completely over the edge.

Your tongue lapped over his neck, sipping the blood that flowed with delicious fervour as the heat of his semen poured into your deepest depths, coating your womb with his lust. Once you pulled away you felt almost faint from the intensity of your love-making, concupiscence fading as the realisation of what you just did hit you in full force, causing your eyes to open. “Shu..oh fuck, I...we...just--” You squealed and tried to hop off but he kept your hips forced down, still inside your leaking cunt despite slowly growing soft. “No.” Shu was serious, now, eyes grave. “You’re not running away. You,” He exhaled, bringing your lips closer to his, “Are mine.” “Shu-” The distance between your lips was closed as he fought with your tongue. Your heart yearned to return his kiss and despite the inner war ongoing within your soul you did, tongues dancing in the warmth of your mouth. When he pulled away he smiled.

And you felt yourself smile too, hand travelling to the spot below your stomach but above your cunt. “You’re mine now, troublesome woman.” You laughed, nodding and kissed him again. The conflict within you wouldn’t fade, and you were terrified of what might happen now to yourself and to Shu. But maybe it won’t be that bad. It was only one time - you can surely find some form of birth control to ingest before the next time, and he’d never have to know. It was...one time, so you shouldn’t get pregnant this time...right?

Somehow you felt proud - proud to have his cum flowing from your core, to know it’s his seed that potentially is currently fertilising you and not your husband’s. You did feel authentically guilty but the guilt made you more aroused. Karlheinz didn’t deserve...this and despite that here you were, and the worst part was you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop anytime soon, there was no point in vowing to yourself that this would be the ‘last time’ because you knew that the moment he came inside you you were already addicted to him. The child of your lover...realistically it was an awful, unspeakable idea but a sense within you wanted to go through with it, to allow yourself fertility, to fully become his.

Little did you know you would have no choice in the matter.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

[marvellovegalore]

Breaking You

Chris Evans

Parte Deux - Hurting You

Synopsis: You begin to feel the true consequences of you hurting Chris and it's beginning to overwhelm you - and him.

Word Count: 2,483

Author's Note: I listened to quite a few songs to truly get into the vibe of this but The Cinematic Orchestra - To build a home (slowed) really got me into the energy I want to be delivered from this write-up. Happy Reading! Feel free to let me know how you feel!

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Mental Illness, Sexual Content

You’ve rarely had to consider yourself as someone who runs from her problems. You’d probably proudly tell anyone that asked that you quite confidently tackle your problems head-on.

However, you’ve created quite a serious problem for yourself. A broken heart.

What you have periled numerous men with, is now afflicting you. The odd thing is, is that you are exulting in it. It’s an oddly familiar sensation; it drowns your body in an intangible sickness that paralyses and asphyxiates you.

You sit at your piano, watching the silent and unmoving countryside. The fields of Portofino showered with golden sunlight, the brio reflecting into your room.

You haven’t pushed aside the sheer curtains since you arrived four days ago. You’ve taken your first shower this morning, the water sinking you into its comforting, warm embrace. You don’t really want to tell yourself aloud why you chose to come back to your grandparents’ old house, when stuff is going wrong. You’ve decided that playing the piano and smoking your days away is better than confronting yourself in the mirror - good thing all the furniture is covered with sheets. The sorry state of your face would make you plunder even deeper into your melancholy.

You will yourself to forget him and try to forget his existence.

But it’s virtually impossible, with him promoting a new film three towns over.

Good thing is you feel physically incapable of stepping outside of the confines of the house. The ladies that tend to the house scurry around the town buying food for the house and maintain its upkeep, they attempt to feed you three meals a day or four. You refuse most of the time, and they regard you with concerned gazes.

How could you begin to explain that with breaking a man’s heart, you subsequently had broken your own? His words blistered with bitterness bit you and dragged you down to the same pits of sadness that you plunged him into. You can probably say that you loved him, but you’ll probably truly never grasp why you can’t stay in something that requires such cemented commitment.

“Signora?” Your house governess interrupts your train of thought, you pull your cigarette away from your lips. “Sí?” She presents you with a letter addressed to you. The handwriting vaguely familiar to you. You thank her and dismiss her, the cigarette back in between your lips.

The letter doesn’t inform you of who it is from, but you hope, in the depths of your ribs that it’s from him, but you couldn’t possibly understand why he would ask to meet with you. He left you wordlessly two months ago and hasn’t been in contact since, not even through subliminal messages on social media. You can wager that you’re probably dead to him. It was made clear to you when you stood at the beach outside of your friend’s Malibu compound. He would rather die than get back with you; you don’t blame him.

You turn back to your piano, the keys feeling like lead beneath your shaky fingers. You play out a melancholic tune, your fingers feeling like they’re losing blood, you play clumsily, your eyes welling with tears.

You do have to admit, you feel extremely guilty for leaving him.

Life was beautiful with him.

He would have served you the sun on a platter if it meant making you smile - but you’re meant to destroy beautiful things.

It was what your father told you. You ruined his marriage to your mother; your sheer existence drove her to the brink of insanity. Since you were conceived you were a parasite that took the love your mother had for your father and you guzzled it out of her, taking all of her focus and affection. When you were born your parents refused the diagnosis of postpartum psychosis. Your mother believed you were an angel sent from heaven and doctors were trying to take you from her; so, she slowly succumbed to the madness and your father eventually was forced to send her away. The resentment he felt towards you all but scented the house, you were a poisonous leech, and you were treated as such.

You take the last drag of your cigarette and drag yourself to your walk-in closet, you decide on taking another shower - scrubbing away the odour of tar and smoke. You ready yourself for your strange and mysterious encounter. You dress yourself and half an hour later rush out to your car. The sun is low in the sky by the time you start driving away from the house, the countryside hugging you from all sides.

The drive is long into the town centre. The sky is blushed with pink and tinges of orange. You park your car and take a slow walk to the Splendido Mare; you enter the hotel’s restaurant and are led to a table. Your order a glass of wine and wait. After ten minutes you take out the letter, you read it from start to finish and confirm that the invitation was not a figment of your imagination; you were indeed summoned here by a mystery writer. Whom you hope is him.

You sit for half an hour at your table, you sip your anxiety away through two glasses of wine, you step outside and smoke two cigarettes and yet you’re still waiting. You flit through your phone notifications; you decide against your better judgement to type his name into the Goggle search bar. You fleetingly glance around the sparsely attended restaurant. You lock your phone without looking at the updates about him.

The thought of him makes your chest ache, harshly. The pain is tangible, you place your hands over your chest and wince. Something is not right.

You’re not aware of his slow approach, his hands wringing around each other, his cheeks red with nervous energy. He wishes he had had a shot of something - anything before getting here. He doesn’t recall what filled him the mad inspiration to send you a stamped letter to meet him at his hotel restaurant. He doesn’t know whether he wishes he had just called the brunette and spoken to her tonight; but he misses you. Madly.

He pulls out the chair in front of you. You can both tell that you’re holding in your breath.

Every time you see him it feels like the first time, all over again.

And he feels the same, but for either of you to admit it would be succumbing to defeat. You’re engaged in a silent and unspoken battle of wills.

“You sent me a letter?” You show him the letter. He nods, you sigh. “What is it you want to talk about?” You’re afraid to look into his eyes, they’re huge lakes filled with your dreams and deepest desires.

He hesitates, a ghostly sentence is formed on his tongue – he decides against materialising it. “I heard you were nearby; thought we could catch up.” He motions for the waiter. You narrow your eyes in - almost offence. What does he think, that you’re old pals?

He wants to catch up, but you want to do everything. Mostly profess your adoration for him and make love to him.

You despise the feeling; you’ve never felt like this for anyone. The alien feeling makes you heat up, your chest rises and falls quickly; agony filling your body as if you were a vessel to claim. “Right,” is all you can utter.

“What have you been up to?” He’s ordered two martinis, his eyes connecting to yours. You wince as the pain in your chest returns. How can he be so close yet so far?

“I was filming a fragrance campaign recently.” You speak quickly, an itch to smoke tickling your fingers. He nods, his eyebrows raised high.

“Nice.” He sighs and extends his clasped hands further onto the table. You look even more beautiful than in his thoughts, which he can’t expel you from. It seems your haunting presence is with him to stay, and his imagination can’t do any justice to your face and your intoxicating smell.

The conversation you have over your first drinks is dry, emotionless and full of hidden desires.

After each of you have three cocktails you let out the first laugh. He’s released himself a bit from the shackles of wanting to one-up you, his joke about his dog’s stubbornness reminding you of the good days of domesticity with Christopher and his dog. You move out to the terrace, candles flickering in the wind; you share more laughs. Memories being shared between you about life together.

There’s a clear shared emotion - longing. You crave the late summer nights sharing the dance floor with his friends or yours; him undressing you slowly in your pool; the nights watching the fire pit in your Santa Barbara home; the dinners enclosed in brick walled Italian restaurants with candles illuminating your elated faces.

“Come up with me.” His suggestion is quiet, his lips edging closer to yours. You nod, overcome with emotion. He grips on to your hand, the grip of a man thanking his lucky stars. He leads you to his room, on the top floor. A paradisiacal view of the sea and hills greeting you. The sun has set completely, and the moon casts a pale light over the buildings across the water.

Chris closes the door, and no sooner is he clutching at your lips with his. His hands smother you onto him and you meet him with the same desperation. Your hands slip under his shirt and moan into his mouth, your lipstick smearing over his lips. You feel him inhale your smell; he sighs desperately as he pulls you closer to him. You fall onto the chaise lounge in front of the open doors leading onto his balcony. The wind whispers sweet nothings onto your skins as you meld together, your bodies wanting desperately to be combined. He removes your clothes with familiar precision and your fingers touch him where you know he likes it.

The grooves of his skin are familiar, his dick entering you slowly as your fingers caress his tanned skin. He looks spectacular underneath you, his skin illuminated by the moonlight. You ride him slowly, you lips adventuring each other, like your bodies are each other’s long lost home territory. Your lips touch again, but it feels like the first time all over again. You feel yourself melting, your brain feels high, your limbs terribly relaxed. You guess this is what true love feels like. There’s nowhere else you’d want to be.

You love him. Only him.

He turns you over, on all fours, one hand gripping your throat and the other around your hair. He thrusts into you - with passion, his lips ghost over your shoulder. You feel your eyes close, the strength to fight the sedation unable to be found. It goes on for a while, and he flattens you onto your stomach. He lays on top of you, his hips gyrating against your skin, his arms encircling your torso. You feel safe, his head laying to rest in between you shoulder and jawline. He inhales your scent and kisses your shoulder, his lips printing their mark on your skin.

He turns you over and takes a deep breath, his eyes hold your entire world. They’ve trapped you into his universe and you have no desire to leave. He’s your whole world and you gave him away on a silver platter - but he’s here. He accommodates himself in between your legs and gives you a hug, his lips find yours in the darkness. The moonlight bathes you generously and he nestles himself inside you again. His lips refuse to leave yours; his thrusts grow in fervour; he wants to bury himself inside you and never leave.

He’s so deeply, and madly in love with you.

He can’t believe you hurt him. He hates you for it.

He pulls away from your kiss, his breathing heavy and slightly laboured.

His hides his face in the nook under your head. You feel like crumpling when you feel tears run over your shoulder, you hug him tighter. You want to stitch his wounds closed, tightly with your bare fingers and your lips. You want to mould your bodies together and live forever in this moment. His fingers reach for your clitoris and he makes love to you in two different ways. Your head lolls back and you feel ecstatic, currents washing over you slowly and you orgasm.

Chris kisses you desperately, swallowing your moans. He thrusts into you, complementing your orgasm. He releases himself into you, slowly moaning into your mouth.

After a few moments he stands up from the lounge chair and heads to the shower, as he walks through the door, he turns to you. He smiles in a way that you understand is an invitation to join him in the shower. You stand slowly, your legs feeling like jelly. You join him for a warm shower, peppered with tender kisses and saccharine touches.

Your bodies unconsciously refuse to part until you’re lying in his bed. He turns off the lamp and lays facing you.

A sweet look embalms his irises. His hand lifts itself to nestle under your cheekbone. He regards you softly.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice shaky.

You smile sleepily, “I love you too.”

You’re hypnotised to sleep by his soft breaths.

—

The sunlight reflected on the lake wakes you out of you slumber, the first dreamless one you’ve had in months. You turn to the side where Chris is and find nothing but empty air. You sit up quickly; the room is deadly silent. Nothing but your movements on the bed make noise. You scramble out of the bed and look for him.

There’s no trace of him in the room. You let out small wail of desperation. What if it was all a dream?

You pace the room, an uneasy feeling setting itself in your chest. You feel the space between your ribs tighten and your head feel faint. Your legs feel weak and unsteady, you crumple into a heap near the chaise lounge. Your breath feels constricted, massively so. The world begins to spin, and you fall onto your back.

It feels like a heart attack.

You can barely feel your heart.

You drag yourself to the counsel table, desperate to reach the phone. Your hand misses it massively, instead a hotel branded paper flickers down next to you. You pick it up, the tightness in your chest limiting your movement.

I guess this is goodbye, I can’t get over the fact that I’ll never be able to trust you. No matter how much I want to.

I hate you for ruining us

I’ll miss you, forever.

With all my love,

C

--

Parte Quatre -

Tags -

@chvntelle-99, @krispy-toes, @hampass, @calimoi, @saltyflowermakertaco

[side-writes-fanfics]

“Could you just fuck off?” || One-shot

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Word count:  ≈1700 words

Genre: angst (slightly less at the end)

Tw: mention of death and (accidental) homicide, crying, therapy, yelling

Summary: You’ve been out of the field for four years. A traumatic event caused you to retire and live the rest of your days away from curses to the best of your abilities. At the last year of college you finally feel like life has taken a turn and maybe you’ll be able to feel at peace with yourself once more. However, your happiness was interrupted by the man himself and his new student.

Feel free to leave a or two or more request in my asks!

Masterpost | Asks/Requests

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

You were a ex-jujutsu sorcerer. Some take the day you took your leave as retirement, having done a plethora of work in the years you were active. Others, however, took it as you quitting and running away from your mistakes and problems. That didn’t bother you though. You left that life for reasons important to you and are now, four years later, you were on your last exams of your educational degree and you felt no guilt about leaving. Of course, the reasons you left will haunt you until the day you die.

You swore off using your techniques ever since you left as well. Nothing from that life remained anymore, and you wanted to keep it that way. You may still remember a few tricks here and there, but you haven’t used them since the day you resigned and you never will. 

Sitting in your dorm room, drinking a(n) [favourite unhealthy drink] and staring at the same papers you had been staring at for the past week, you prepare for this week's exam. This exam meant it all and if you flunked this one, your educational career would continue on for a little while longer with a little bit more pain.

 As you began to revise your papers one more time, your roommate called out for you: “(Y/N)!?”

“Yeah!?

“There’s some people here to see you!” An eyebrow raised at her response. No one ever came to visit you these days unless you asked them to. They knew you were going to be busy for a little while so they knew it was best to let you be and focus on your work. 

“Just send them into my room, please!” As three pairs of footsteps walk closer to your door, you hastily rush to scribble down the last bits of information you needed to revise one more time. The door opened while the chair twirled around at your command to reveal your roommate opening the door to let the people in. “Thanks Emi!” you say in a cheerful tone as but your face and joy quickly dropped spotting a very familiar man behind her. “You can leave us be now.” she listened to you, closing the door on her way out. 

“What the absolute fuck are you doing here.” you say, begging the dear lord to wake you up from this hellish nightmare. 

“(Y/N)-chan! How’ve you been in the time you were away from me, sis?” Gojo said, making your blood boil in anger. Still, you kept your cool as best as you could.

“Do not call me that or I’ll throw you out of the apartment myself. I am and never was your sister.” You crossed your arms, taking his presence in more carefully. He hasn’t changed a bit since the last time you saw him. He only looked older, more mature almost, but he still kept that young charm he’d had since the day you two met. However, you know well that this man hasn’t aged a single year when it comes to mental age. He has and always will be the egocentric dickhead you knew back then. 

“Well you’ve changed a lot, got a little kick to ya now.” He teased, letting out a chuckle. Your eyes wandered away from him and to the figure behind him. A young boy. Pink hair; tall-ish; looked way older than he most likely was. He had little scars under his eyes that you noticed instantly. ‘I wonder what those are…’ you thought, but kept it to yourself.

“Who’s the kid?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of him. Something didn’t feel right. You just knew his aura was off. 

“Oh right! I didn’t introduce you to my student! (Y/N), this is Yuuji Itadori. Yuuji, this is (Y/N), the nice lady I told you we were here to get.” As Yuuji waved to you and said something, you became confused. 

“You’re here to get me?” only a seconds pause happened before you connected the dots. “No.”

“Please, (Y/N), we need-”

“You don’t need me for shit.” 

The two of you argued back and forth quietly enough not to disrupt your roommate while Yuuji stood there confused and slightly scared. Neither of you was going to give up, strongly believing that they were going to win for their reasons were valid. This carried on for five minutes before your temper snapped.

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO COME TO MY APARTMENT AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED? FOUR YEARS WENT BY, WHY COULDN’T YOU ALL JUST FORGET ABOUT ME AND MOVE ON!” You screamed at him, causing both of the males to flinch. Neither of them expected this from you. Yuuji heard about you from his sensei and never once did he mention you having burst like this and that was because… well… Gojo never saw you like this. You never were like this before. When he worked with you and studied with you, you always managed to keep yourself calm, no matter the situation.

“Yuuji can you… go talk to Emi for a bit. I think (Y/N) and I need to talk about this alone…” Gojo asked Yuuji and while Yuuji wanted to stay and find out why she was like she was right now, he knew that he would only cause trouble to both of them.

“The only thing I’m over is jujutsu and being a sorcerer.” your words shot through him with a feeling he’s never felt.

Once the door closed, both of you stood/sat there in silence for a moment, gathering your thoughts up. Gojo was the first to break it, letting a sigh escape his lips. “I thought you were going to be over it…”

“It’s been four years… Please… Come back...” Gojo held back his cocky remarks, knowing that they could ruin a chance in convincing you. They really did need you at that moment and without you, a lot of people would die. The only problem is that you thought differently. Still shaken up over the reason you quit.

“Yeah, it’s been four years. So?” She spat, “Do you know that in those four years, going to therapy twice a week barely made a dent in the guilt and hatred I’ve been feeling ever since that day. I’ve been lying to her, trying to tell her as much as I could without revealing anything about curses and all that bullshit, but after four years of constantly trying to feel at peace and feel like I wasn’t the cause of everything that happened I still feel like a criminal who doesn’t deserve to walk this planet.”

“(Y/N), you know The Incident wasn’t your fault.”

The room fell silent. Gojo couldn’t say anything. He physically couldn’t break himself out of the guilt he began to feel. Slowly, carefully chosen words began to come out of his mouth. “Sorry if this isn’t the right moment, but… Can I ask you something?”

“It wasn’t my fault!? Gojo, 17 people died because of me. 30 people were crushed to death because of my poor evaluation and aim. You cannot tell me I wasn’t responsible for those deaths!” tears threatened to fall off her cheeks at any moment, but she tried to remain strong. “And even if you still believe that I am not at fault, the meer fact that I couldn’t handle death, after everything I’ve been through, death still hurts me and taunts me and makes me feel guilty even if there’s nothing else I could have done. And for that I don’t deserve to be called a jujutsu sorcerer. Because as a jujutsu sorcerer you have to be prepared to face death each and every single day and I, (Y/N) (L/N), cannot do that.” you didn’t even feel yourself beginning to cry but you weren’t going to acknowledge it. “Do what you will, but I am never again going on the field and causing more harm than good.”

“Sure, why not.”

“Do you… still see curses?” You nod. “So you see the curse on your roommates back each and every single day, yeah?” You nod once more. “And the thing in the corner of your room?” both of your gazes shift to the corner.

“He’s just chilling there.” the words came out cold. Gojo instantly knew you were lying. 

“Are you sure about that?” You didn’t want to admit that both of those slimy little creatures annoyed you. They annoyed you like crazy. But in reality you were too scared to exercise either of them. Your gaze shifts downwards, averting itself from Gojo. He caught you. He caught you in a straight up lie. You still saw it all, you could not not see it. Every day, every hour you see the curses around you; next to you. But you tried to ignore them because of internal fear you felt. You didn’t hate jujutsu, you were scared of them. Your internal hatred started as a coping method to help you through the feelings you couldn’t tell anyone. Tears began to fall faster as you tried to breathe. Though, that breath turned into a silent sob. Your world came crashing down as you realised that the reality was you weren’t happy. You were terrified. But that fear became a norm to you. Something you couldn’t escape. And now that you realised it, everything came in like a bomb, spiraling out of control. The veil was lifted over your eyes, allowing you to see the mess your life actually was. The realisation you lived with two things you were supposed to hate the most. You lived with a curse, no, TWO curses, and you did absolutely nothing to get them out of your life even though you could.

Gojo approached you, hugging you softly. This was the first time you two had seen each other in 4 years and he already had to comfort you. He didn’t even have infinity around him, knowing you couldn’t hurt a fly. Some people put up an act but he knew you weren’t one of those people. Even after a long time you were still the same old (Y/N) he knew.

“You don’t have to come back if you don’t want to, we just thought you would be the best solution to our problem.” Gojo said as he softly rubbed circles in you back while you silently cried into his shoulder. “If you’re not up for it, I’m sure there’s another way”

“What do you need?” you mumbled into him.

“Excuse me?”

“What do you need me to help with?” Gojo paused to realise what you said before smirking. He hugged you tightly before explaining the situation to you. 

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

[ignisaeri]

~

At that time, all Alatus could hear was the howling of the wind, and the screams of the Yakshas as they waged war against their karmic debts.

A blaze of crimson flame splits the night sky as the Pyro Yaksha shrieks, clawing desperately at scarlet locks of hair with bloodied fingernails, trying to rid herself of demons only she can see. Her eyes flash with the light of a thousand stars as she throws her head back, pleading with the darkness in ragged gasps to leave her, to go somewhere where they could not haunt her. She’s still begging as she dies.

~

The Geo Yaksha rests his foot against the Hydro Yaksha’s abdomen, using her still body as leverage to draw his sharpened blade out from between her ribs. His eyes stare into the distance, unseeing, pupils clouded over with an inky black, fingers twitching as they hold the weapon that had killed one of his oldest friends. The Hydro Yaksha only lays quietly, death caressing her form with its bony fingers, the pool of water beneath them tinged pink from blood.

~

The Electro Yaksha falls to his knees, gaze finding Alatus’ one last time, seemingly apologizing for leaving the Anemo Yaksha alone for eternity. His slender hands float over the blade embedded in his chest, then collapses onto his side as his last breaths leave him, currents of violet electricity flickering out into nothing. He dies silhouetted against the blackness of The Chasm, as silent as the sun creeping over the horizon, even as the battle rages endlessly around them.

~

Rex Lapis gazes at Alatus with such pity, such sadness, before smiling hesitantly, gold eyes meeting the Yaksha’s.

‘Sit, Ever Vigilant Yaksha. The archon war is over. Let us share a cup of osmanthus wine.”

“Alatus, I free you from your duty as a Yaksha. In the fables of another world, the name Xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. He endured much suffering, as you have. Use this name from now on.”

“Yes, Morax.”

~

The God of Freedom seeks him out one evening, when he’s resting quietly near the edge of a cliff, feet dangling restlessly off the side, imagining the faces of the lost Yakshas floating through the clouds. Barabatos’ braids glow a gentle forest green, and he inclines his head slightly towards Xiao as he nears.

“Alatus, correct?”

“Xiao,” the adeptus corrects him.

“Xiao,” Barbatos says, “Rex Lapis told me of you.”

~

“It was you with the flute, was it not?” Xiao tells Barbatos as they watch the workers construct a massive statue in Liyue’s center, honoring the late Tianquan. Ningguang’s placid face smiles down at them as the workers dust the marble, freeing it from dust and grime.

Venti bobs his head, gaze never straying from where Rex Lapis (now Zhongli) stands with arms folded, gaze dark. With Ningguang gone, the last of the Liyue Qixing has perished.

“Yes,” Venti says. “I saved you that day.”

~

Tonight, they drink, in honor of the dead. Zhongli gingerly holds a glass of osmanthus wine, a glaze lily tucked into his hair. “To Guizhong,” he says. “Havria, Ningguang, and Tartaglia.”

Venti hiccups, face the color of an overripe tomato, the glass of dandelion wine tipping dangerously in his grip. “To the children of Mond,” he choruses. “To the Ragvindr brothers, to Jean, to Lisa, to Noelle. To Klee!”

Baal is here tonight too, and she leans forward restlessly. “To Kujou Sara,” she adds. “To Kitsune, Chiyo, and to Sasayuri.”

Tonight should be solemn, Xiao thinks, as they list the names of their dead companions. Yet, nearly five hundred years after the last of them passed, he feels nothing but contentment.

Xiao raises his own glass. “To the traveler and his sister,” he says. “And to the Yakshas”.

~

Xiao watches as Venti’s fingers dance, weaving an enticing melody through the hollow sounds of his flute. He’s sitting against a rock, the cool water of the stream lapping at his ankles, washing against the outcropping where Venti stands, a face full of bliss as he plays.

The song is one that Xiao wished to hear, one that he had first heard from the cart of a passing merchant shortly after the end of the Archon War.

The notes seem to float away into the air as he listens, chasing away the darkness in his soul, and he closes his eyes, reveling in this small moment of peace.

~

Sometimes, when Xiao sleeps, he dreams. He dreams of a woman wreathed in fire, eyes burning tears down her cheeks. He dreams of a not-truly-there man, standing with his blade buried in the chest of a woman floating limp in blood-tinged water. He dreams of purple lightning dying as a man takes his last breaths deep within The Chasm.

~

He knows, of course, that he cannot run forever. One day, he will become engulfed by his karmic debt, like the Pyro Yaksha, or go mad and disappear, like the Geo Yaksha.

That day comes sooner than he thinks.

~

Liyue is burning. The city is just as Xiao remembers, a perfect place of beauty. If he concentrates, he can still barely remember the night of the Lantern Rite, thousands of years ago. He closes his eyes and wishes to see the light of a hundred lanterns, instead of the light of fire the buildings shudder and succumb to the roaring flame.

Zhongli stands in front of him, something akin to pain in his gaze, one arm thrown to the side to keep Venti from rushing forwards. The Anemo Archon’s eyes are wide and wild, hat askew and bow grasped in shaking hands. Baal stands straight, weapon drawn, sorrow dotting her gaze.

Fontaine’s archon, the God of Justice, flits around the backdrop of burning flame, hurriedly trying to save as much of Liyue as she can. Her hands wave, spilling waves of water over the temples and buildings, undoing the damage that Xiao caused. The Dendro and Pyro Archons are busy, pulling screaming mortals from the wreckage and destruction.

Three torches and three exploding barrels, compiled with Xiao’s anemo attacks, had set all of Liyue aflame.

There is distant screaming in Xiao’s ears, sounds he knows only he can hear. Deliriously, he recalls the Pyro Yaksha howling at non-existent demons millennia ago and wonders absently if the same will afflict him.

The karmic debt has finally taken over, and it seems to favor the path the Geo Yaksha had taken. Xiao almost laughs as he realizes this, feeling trapped within his skin as he wields his polearm, pointed unwaveringly at the archons.

“I am sorry,” he rasps. There is darkness at the edge of his sight, and the screams only intensify. He can hear individual voices now, hissing and howling and wailing, crying for mercy and death and blood.

“Do not apologize,” Zhongli says. “It is not your fault.”

“What is this?” Venti gasps, the sound echoing in Xiao’s ears. “Xiao, what is happening?”

Baal answers for him. “It is the fate of a Yaksha.” Electricity begins to crackle around her shoulders, eyes darkening to violet as she calls the power of the storm.

Xiao wants to weep at how much she reminds him of the Electro Yaksha.

Maybe, he muses, he will see his fellow Yakshas again. Maybe he’ll meet Aether and Lumine too, in the place that lies after death. He may finally meet those who used to belong to Mond, the ones that Venti talks of so adoringly.

Zhongli finally draws his polearm, an earthen pillar appearing before him, casting protective gold around the archons. Xiao knows why.

He can feel the wind gusting around him, responding to calls he does not remember sending out. Leaves swirl in the gale, and trees rip their way out of the ground. The pain in his head intensifies as the number of screaming voices triple.

Xiao meets Zhongli’s gaze. Sometime, somehow, over the years, the archons had become his closest confidants. Yet, Zhongli was always his oldest companion, so now, Xiao asks Zhongli to do the impossible.

“Morax,” he croaks, using a name that hasn’t been spoken for ages. “You must.”

Zhongli’s gaze is pained, yet resolute, and that is how Xiao knows that Morax will kill him to save the world. Baal seems to sense this too, and lightning strikes the ground not too far away, anxiously awaiting her command.

It is only Venti who has not yet seemed to grasp the situation. He frowns at both archons. “What must you do, Zhongli?”

Zhongli only shakes his head, and Xiao knows it pains him to be the one who will have to kill the last Yaksha. So he answers Venti, limbs shaking as he desperately tries to contain the whirlwind threatening to tear from his chest.

“He must kill me. If he does not, I fear I will destroy Teyvat. I have lost control over my body, Venti.”

Barbatos’ eyes flash green, and Xiao is yet again reminded of the power of the archons. “No,” he says simply. “You cannot die. To live for thousands of years, to drink with us, all this time? You cannot die like this.”

Xiao loses concentration, just a tiny sliver, yet the gust of wind that tears from him shears the top off of a nearby mountain. He groans, harnessing the gale yet again, even as the action forces him to his knees.

“Morax,” he says again. “Please.”

Zhongli looks at him, and the archon’s eyes are glistening in the light of the dancing flames, as wind whips his hair into his face.

“Alatus,” he says, and his voice is full of hurt and resignation. “It has been an honor.”

Yes, Xiao wants to answer back, but he cannot force his mouth to move. He just nods, shaking his head as if he can jar the wailing into silence.

Venti starts towards Zhongli, power thrumming at the edges of his fingers, seemingly ready to resort to battle in order to prevent Xiao’s death, and that is when Baal moves. She slams into Venti, pushing him into the ground, even as wind starts to whirl around them - Venti’s magic, not Xiao’s. Her element locking curse comes a second later, binding itself around Venti, even as he hisses at her in protest.

“Xiao,” Venti cries, twisting as if he can escape the curse. His hat is lost, blown away in the wind, and his hair has come loose from its braids, flying around his face.

“Barbatos,” Xiao whispers. “I never thanked you, for saving me that day.”

Venti pauses, for a second, stunned into silence.

“Thank you,” Xiao says, over the voices in his head. “Thank you.”

Baal only looks at him solemnly, and Xiao stares back at her. They exchange no words, but Baal just nods, once, the simple gesture conveying everything he needs to know.

Xiao holds her gaze for a few more seconds, turning back to find the point of Zhongli’s spear resting above his heart.

Zhongli's face is twisted in grief, yet his blade still hits true, sliding into the hollow space between Xiao's third and fourth ribs.

Xiao chokes, the whirl of wind around him finally dying out. His legs buckle and he falls ungraciously, feeling gentle hands grasping at his clothes as he does.

Somewhere, Venti is screaming his name.

The wailing inside his skull is dissipating, and near the edges of his sight, Xiao can make out swirls of color. At first, he thinks they are the archons, and his failing body cannot see the details of their faces. Then, he recognizes a blue that does not belong to those in the present.

“Rest,” Zhongli whispers, as Xiao fades. “Rest, Alatus.”

And Xiao does, letting himself fall into the embrace of the Yaksha's, who are only becoming clearer, even as Xiao dies.

~

637 years later, a scholar strolls through the bookshelves of Sumeru's most famous academy, searching for a piece of information that could support her thesis.

She turns into a lane labelled Mondstadt: The City of Freedom, and begins to scan the titles, careful to replace everything exactly where she finds it.

There are two other travelers within the small space between the bookshelves, and they're talking to each other, quite loudly.

The scholar frowns. No matter how foreign these travelers are, the rule of silence in a library should be universal.

The first traveler, a tall man with golden eyes and umber hair that falls to his lower back flips another page in his book, completely ignoring his companion. A jade spear is strapped across his back, and the scholar thinks idly that the weapon looks more like a piece of art, with great wings of green jade shattering outwards from the main spike.

The tall man's companion is quite short, with yellow cat like eyes and evergreen tufts of hair, a pink pearl necklace slung loosely around his throat. His boyish grin seems quite misplaced.

It only takes the scholar a few moments to figure out why.

A few months ago, the scholar had studied ancient folklore of Liyue. Among them was a tale of several Yakshas, the last of whom had supposedly been buried beneath a statue of himself, on the highest peak in Liyue.

The man standing before her looks exactly the same as the grainy photo in the text. However, in the scroll of lore, the last Yaksha had worn a fierce scowl across his features, nothing like the one that stands before her now.

"Come, Zhongli," the should-be-dead Yaksha says, tugging on his friend's sleeve. "Baal is waiting for us."

"Baal can wait a while longer," the taller man says, turning the page of his book a while longer, which the scholar now sees is a copy of The Ruling System of Mondstadt: Grandmasters and Cavalry Captains.

"You said you wanted me to learn more about Mond, didn't you?" the taller man continues. "Besides, I am quite intrigued as to exactly who this 'Kaeya' is, the one you keep referencing."

The yaksha frowns. "Kaeya," he says. "Diluc's brother."

At his companion's blank stare, the yaksha says. "I'll remind you later," he chides. "We really must be going, Zhongli."

The scholar startles, embarrassed that she eavesdropped for so long. However, she still hears what the tall man says back.

"Fine. Let us go, Venti."

[amjustagirl]

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese  gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.    

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training –  because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses  Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses  her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as  home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about  ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’  - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won  -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair -  fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and  love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

[zafirosreverie]

Hey can I have a request with Agatha x reader where reader is a vampire and drinks off of Agatha. But one day reader was having a really bad day and accidentally drinks to much of her blood so reader feels terrible and takes care of Agatha cause she’s really weak please. I freakin love your work❤️❤️❤️❤️

A vampiress and a witch being a lesbian power couple?! SIGN ME UP!

Once again, i got carried away (listen, you can't mix vampires, witches and lesbians and then expect me to hold myself) so the actual request is going to be on the next part (i hope).

Also, i changed Agatha's trial a little.

Anyway, i hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: a little dark?

Little bird(Agatha x Vampire!reader) part 1

You smirked when you heard the steps getting closer to the tree you were hiding in. They were human steps. More than one human, by the sound of it.

“Excellent, I'm sick of animal’s blood” you thought. 

You were a child of the night. The creature parents warned their children about. A vampire. One of the youngest, you might add, but also one of the strongest. Your power was what made your own kin afraid of you. But you didn’t care. It’s not as if you needed them anyway. 

“What’s happening?” you heard a voice and your smirk widened. You recognised that tone. Fear. One of the people was really, really scared.  

“Oh, poor little thing” You thought and decided to get closer, still hidden by the darkness. 

“Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?” another voice said and you got there just in time to see a young woman tied, many women around her. 

You knew this. It was a trial. A witches trial. Hmmm, this dinner just got interesting. What did the little witch have done to make her own people condemn her? Taking a closer look, you noticed how cute she was. She seemed nice and her cute pink cheeks made an amazing contrast with the ice in her eyes. 

“She must have been the one who’s fear I felt” you thought. 

You saw how the little witch begged for her life. You almost felt bad for her. 

“Maybe I will drink her blood the last” you thought. But then, you blinked when she called the eldest witch “mother”, and you frowned. 

Vampires were known for not caring for anyone but themselves, with a few exceptions to the closer relatives, but witches? You always thought witches were better than that. At least that’s what they claimed themselves.

“I can be good” The little witch said and something in her voice made your heart start to crumble. Why? Why was this witch doing that to you? You didn’t know her, you shouldn’t care for her, you just wanted her blood, and for the few parts you actually paid attention to, she was messing with dark magic…

...Okay, THAT you could understand. Dark magic wasn’t that bad, it was more the stigma than anything. 

“No, you can’t” The older witch said and you watched as the rest of the witches attacked the poor girl.

Her screams were almost too much for you and it was making you angrier. Why were you feeling like that?! You always enjoyed other’s pain! (well...not really, you just didn’t care) So why was this different? Why would you care if she reverted the tables and was stealing the other witches’ magic? why would you- Wait what?!

You blinked and saw how the magic turned purple, taking all the magic and life form the witches attacking her. Well, now that was something special. The older witch stared in disbelief as the younger one killed the rest. You couldn’t help but feel proud of the little witch.

“Teach them how to treat a lady, girl” you thought. 

But your amusement didn’t last long. You saw how the older witch prepared herself to attack her own daughter. And most importantly, you saw that the little witch didn’t just take the magic and life from the others, the corpses were totally empty, which meant no blood for you.

“Hell no, princess, I won't drink more bear’s blood tonight” you thought and decided it was a good moment to make an entrance. 

You were sure the little bird (Agatha, your mind whispered, remembering the name she was called by when the trial started) was able to stop her mother, but you already lost the blood of the others, you wouldn’t lose this one. 

The tiredness in Agatha’s face wasn’t the reason you knocked out the older witch. Of course not. 

Agatha blinked when her mother fell to the floor. What the hell happened? One moment she was about to kill her and the next she was just there, unconscious. 

“Well, well” a voice said but the witch couldn’t see any one, just the darkness of the night.

“What do we have here?” you said and smiled at the way the little witch turned around, trying to find you. She was so cute. 

“W-who are you?” Agatha asked and tried to stay calmed. She just got rid of a whole coven, she will take whoever it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, little Agatha?” you said and smirked when she gasped.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, her voice sounded a little scared “Show yourself!” she demanded and you laughed, making the witch shudder. 

“As you wish little bird” you said and stepped out of the darkness, appearing right behind her.

Agatha jumped when she felt a hand on her back. Quickly turning around, she lifted her hands, ready to fight whoever it was. You found her defensive stance a little too cute. 

“Who are you?” she asked again

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you” you said and smiled, allowing her to look at your teeth. The reaction was immediate.

Agatha stepped back and gasped. Your fangs were too long to be normal, and now that she looked closely, your e/c eyes had a string red in them. 

“You’re-”

“A vampire” you finished for her and smirked at the look in her beautiful face “And you’re a witch” you said, walking to her and enjoying how she trembled under your gaze “a witch that played with dark magic” 

“I didn’t break any rules” she said, still trying to appear calmed and strong, but you were making her really nervous. She knew vampires were powerful, much more so than witches. Whatever spell she might know, wouldn’t hurt you. She was defenseless. 

“They just bend to your power” you finished again, having heard what she said to the witches. Agatha nodded. “Which just makes you more interesting, birdie” you said. 

It was true. You knew dark magic was powerful and hard to control. It took a strong being to even begin to learn it, so the fact that this young girl claimed to be chosen by the magic itself, was beyond amazing.

Agatha wished she had learned to disappear. Your eyes were making her nervous and the closer you got, the smaller she felt. Lord, how much she hated feeling small.

“Don’t be afraid, darling. I’m not going to hurt you” you assured her. You had used that line on many of your victims, but for the first time, you actually meant it. 

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” she asked and arched an eyebrow. You giggled. 

“You certainly shouldn’t” To your surprise, the witch smiled. It was small, but it made your heart jump.

A groan interrupted you and you saw the older witch standing. She was too weak, but her gaze was enough to make Agatha nervous. Her mother always had that effect on her. That gaze haunted her dreams, always making sure she understood how disappointed she was in her. 

You felt Agatha taking a step back and you sighed, frowning at the old witch. Why did mothers always have to make their children feel less than a miracle just to feel better with themselves? If they knew how fortunate they were to be able to watch their children grow u- No, you didn’t want to think about it.

“Agatha” the witch said and the younger one tensed. No, you weren’t having it. 

You stood in front of the younger witch, covering her from the gaze of the older one. That got you reactions from both. They were both surprised, but Agatha also felt a little hope, while the other woman felt fear. 

“You won’t talk to her like that, am i clear?” you said, walking to her. She tried to step back but you took her by the neck before she could.

“Let me go, child of the night” she demanded and you laughed. It was a cruel laugh.

“Or what?” you asked.

Agatha was frozen. She couldn’t do anything but watch as you threatened her mother. Nobody has ever stood for her, not her cousins, not her so called friends, no one. And suddenly a freakin vampiress was defending her? Why?!

“Agatha!” the older woman hissed, making her daughter jump. You laughed again.

“Really? You’re expecting to be saved by the woman you tried to murder less five minutes ago? How pathetic” you mocked and tightened your hold on her neck.

“Aga- tha”

Agatha just stared at her, not moving. You noticed it and turned your head to her, without letting go of the witch. 

“Listen, little bird” you said.

Agatha blinked and looked at you, she noticed your voice was smooth and calm, pretty different from the cold one you used with her mother. It made her blush. 

“I came here to eat. I haven’t had anything better than bear’s blood in months, and you dried them completely” you said, pointing at the corpses around you. 

Agatha stared at them and gulped before she looked back at you. Her mother made signals with her hands, trying to make her help her. Agatha smirked in her head when she realised you were blocking her mother’s magic.

“Good, that’s how it feels, mother” she thought. 

“And she tried to murder you just for being more powerful” you said.

“She broke the rules” the other woman said and you growled.

“But that’s not true ” you answered “Is it, Evanora?” you asked and smiled at the horror in the witch’s face. 

Surely, she thought you read her mind, which, for the record, wasn’t true. Vampires can’t read minds as many people like to think. At least not the young ones like you. But for now, it was useful for you that she thought you could. Truth is, you heard some witch say it. But she didn’t have to know.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with the rules, does it? This is you, afraid that your daughter is more powerful than you, afraid that you cannot control her anymore” you accused. 

You really didn’t know if it was true. You didn’t know these “rules” they were talking about, but you didn’t care. You were too familiar with the situation: a parent sensing their child becoming more powerful, trying to control them and, when they couldn’t, destroying them. It was sickening. 

You might be a creature of the night, but you were once a mother, and you just couldn’t understand how someone would murder their child instead of being proud of them being better. And the look on Evanora’s face told you everything you had to know. You hit the nail.

Agatha gasped when she heard you. Sure, deep inside she always knew her mother was afraid of her power, but hearing it out loud hurted. 

“You’re gross” you growled, then turned to Agatha again “Look, hot stuff” lord, her little blush was so adorable “I’m not leaving without my dinner. So, it’s your blood or hers” you said. 

You hated doing that to the poor and cute little witch, but you were starving and you knew Evanora wouldn’t even try to stop you from eating her daughter. It was gross how she hoped Agatha would sacrifice herself when she just tried to murder her. 

Agatha looked between you and her mother. Evanora looked at her with a gaze that clearly said “you’re not worthy, let her eat you and save me. I deserve it, you don’t”. The thought broke her heart but also made rage bloom on her chest. 

“Well, little bird? Who 's going to be?” you asked. She was cute, but you were losing your patience.

Agatha looked at her mother for the last time and closed her eyes before she nodded. You smirked when Evanora gasped.

“AGATHA! NO!” the older woman screamed and you saw tears rolling down Agatha’s cheek. You felt bad for her, but it didn’t stop you from sinking your fangs into Evanora's neck, sucking her blood and taking her life with it.

The witch screamed, kicked, and tried desperately to use her magic on you, but after a few minutes, everything fell silent.

You dropped her body to the ground, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your dress. You moaned in pleasure at the taste of blood on your tongue. Animal blood helped, but it didn't compare to human blood, magical or not.

Agatha’s eye widened when she saw her mother’s body falling to the floor. She was gone. She really didn’t know how to feel. Guilty because she let you kill her to save herself, sad because she was gone and even after all that happened, she still had some love for her. 

But what she felt the most, was relieved. Relieved that she was finally free. That she would never have to feel her disappointed gaze over her, that she would never have to hear her hurting words. That nobody would ever make her feel unworthy again. 

You turned to see the witch falling to her knees. How could anyone hurt someone like her? Just for power. You truly didn’t understand. You took Evanora’s pendant and walked to her. You carefully kneeled in front of the girl and handed it to her.

Agatha jumped a little when she saw your hand right in front of her eyes. Her mother’s pendant was resting in your palm. She hesitantly took it, not looking up to you. She didn’t know if she could trust you. You said she shouldn’t, but you defended her. And also killed her mother. What if you were lying and would eat her too? She wasn’t even sure it would be that bad. After all, she actually didn’t have anywhere to go. Not anymore.

You saw how confused and conflicted she was and it broke your heart. This woman was broken. Broken by the people that should have protected her, left alone in the world. And yet, she was still trying to hold together as many pieces as she could. It truly amazed you. 

You gently wiped her tears, making her jump again, but she didn’t move away from your touch. You caressed her cheek and saw how her little blush appeared again. It was adorable. She was adorable. 

“Come on” you whispered and stood up, pulling her up with you. When she got to her feet, she looked around again, watching the corpses for a moment.

“I don’t have anywhere to go” she finally said softly, almost crying again.

You took her hand, already cursing yourself for such a risking decision, but you knew you would hate yourself more if you didn’t. Agatha looked at you, confused and you gave her a reassuring smile. 

“Now you do”