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ldysmfrst · 22 days

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Breaking and Entering (6) - Mikhail

Status: Ongoing Series (hiatus - may start again based on responses)

Chapter number: 6 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 1,085

Word count for Story: 11,534

Genre: Werewolf

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, and m/m. This chapter has some mentions of blood and injury.

To say that Sasha was excited to hear that Borya felt our mate was near would be an understatement, but that would mean Mitch’s reaction would be like I just announced I won the lottery.

I was thrilled to have these two knuckleheads as best friends and my counsel.

Exiting the elevator from my father’s office, I am hit with the scent of blood and healing balm. We all stop in our tracks, looking around us. We don’t notice anything with the staff nearby when Mitch suddenly starts towards a girl in a dark hoodie.

Wait… did he just call her Lov... Lovren?

He knows her, the interesting student I saw this morning. Getting closer to her, the smell of blood becomes mixed with anxiety and fear. Looking at this strange girl, I push my Alpha aura out in small waves, trying to calm her down, but it isn’t working.

Did you see her face? Mitch mind links Aliaksandr and myself.

Who is she? Why is she fearful? Why is she bleeding? My gaze turns from Mich to her, and our eyes lock briefly. They are beautiful. Two different colors, one the brown of dampened wood, the other green like an emerald.

Wow! What happened? Asks Aliaksandr, his face filled with shock and confusion.

I know her for the first question. I don’t know about the second two, and we should have been notified if someone was attacked on campus. Mitch mindlinks us, now annoyed by the failure of reports.

She breaks eye contact with me, glancing at Mitch and muttering something that sounds like a version of “none of your business.” She quickly leaves her movements oozing anxiety, pain, and fear.

My mouth drops open at the notion that my aura did nothing, and she left without being dismissed by one of us. Does she not understand who we are?

Feeling Borya becoming more restless, I focused on him momentarily, trying to calm him down.

There are better times to be antsy or demanding Borya. She is scared of one or all of us. That or something happened, and she fears what will happen next.

I know that, but she did not react like a pack member or a human. Our Alpha aura did nothing to her. She still locked eyes with us. Follow her. Find out who she is, Mikhail.

“Why did she run off? Does she think we are blind?” asks Aliaksandr.

“No, I don’t think that is it. She is the foster kid Gamma Jon, and his mate Rachel took in last spring. She always seems to keep to herself and is an odd duck, but Gamma Jon says there is something special about her,” Mitch explains.

“Wait, she is the foster kid that Papa approved of?” I say, pointing at the stairs where she ran off.

Small flashes of memory race barreling through my mind. She is standing in the lobby with the bandage on. Her figure is walking on campus in the morning. She is sitting in a chair in the library, lost in a book during the summer. She wandered through town in the middle of the night, too.

Why did I never realize that she was the foster kid?

Ring

“Hey, Miky. It’s time for class. Let's go before we are late,” Aliaksandr pats me on the shoulder.

Walking out of the lobby, I glance towards the fourth floor, where she would stay during the summer. What is it about her that pulls Borya’s attention?

Shaking my head, I put the girl with the hoodie in the back of my mind. It’s time to focus on high school.

Walking around campus, I listen to the two go on about different buildings, students, teachers, and hang-out areas, and every time we pass, a pack member takes a knee out of respect for my position.

My father makes it sound like I have never been out of the house, but I have seen everyone on pack runs, meetings, and celebrations. They all know who I am when they see me coming; if they don’t, they can feel me coming. While it is excellent that they respect me and my position, this will get old quickly. It will also attract a lot of attention and cause discomfort for the humans in the school.

The end of school brings a different feeling to the pack. Everyone has bigger smiles, laughter, and lightheartedness because it's time to go home, head to their sports team practice, or train. Even Mitch and Aliaksandr are goofing around and flirting with the girls.

Oh well, Mitch is flirting with his mate Selena. It is great to see that Mitch is moonmatched with another wolf. Several others have found their moonmates, wolf and human, over the summer. I always thought it was funny that the human moonmates are guided by the Goddess to our little town for one reason or another.

Being the next Alpha and without a moonmate, I worry that I will have to start traveling to other clans to find my moonmate.

There is that smell again, blood and healing balm. Following the scent, my eyes narrow on the hooded girl crossing the quad, seemingly oblivious to anyone around her.

No, wait… everyone else seems to not notice her.

How can you not notice her?

Though the blood was stale and the healing balm most likely absorbed by now, I could still smell it like she was beside me. Her pace slows down slightly while I keep watching her.

She is tall, curvy, and different from all the other humans and packmates. She stands out but in an unexpected way. She seems to look worried now.

What is with this girl?

Fear, pain, anxiety, and now worry, does she have a positive emotion in her?

Oh! She is looking right at me, stopped in her tracks, and locked eyes with me again for the second time today. How can she do that without any show of concern? I mean, even humans have a hard time looking me in the eyes.

Wait.. why is she furrowing her brow?

What did I do?

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#breaking and entering #werewolf #werewolves #plus sized mc #hurt/comfort #injury #light angst #fated mates #moon mates #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #alpha beta omega #pack dynamics #high school #chubby reader #chubby #chubby y/n #original character #Ldysmfrst fic

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waltwhitmansbeard · 11 months

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oh, won't you whisper sweet words (a my fair lady one-shot)

sometimes, a girl's gonna do what a girl's gonna do. this is a very nsfw one-shot set in the story of my fair lady, taking place before the start of that fic. like some nights just seem forever lasting, this fic does not in any way affect the main plot of the mfl 'verse, so if you'd rather skip it, don't worry about missing important lore or anything. if you would like a full list of triggers or tags, you can find those on ao3 here. otherwise, please enjoy this fully self-indulgent piece of smut that has been living rent-free in my head for months now.

Keyleth does not know what kind of relationship other heirs have with their royal parents, but she believes herself to be lucky that her father has never looked at her as a threat. If anything, he has always understood that if their responsibility is to serve their people with all that they have to give, then part of that responsibility is preparing his heir, their future sovereign, to take up his role as soon as he has abdicated it. Keyleth has been raised with tutors and instructors in all manner of topics, and though she believes her leadership skills still leave something to be desired, she knows that even at her relatively young age, she understands more than most about what it takes to run a nation.

The war with Draconia, of course, has been a crash course in some of the darkest, deadliest parts of leading a country. She has sat in on countless meetings in which her father, his advisors, and the Ashari Council agonize over the smallest details—troop deployments, supply chains, war mages—to ensure the greatest benefit to the smallest cost. Despite such exposure, she was shocked when, mere months after the devastating attack on Pyrah, her father asked her to make a call regarding the actions of a small band of spies currently in Tyriex, the heart of Draconia. These spies had recently come into some intelligence regarding the location of one of Draconia's largest weapons caches, and they needed orders for how to proceed. Keyleth had joined her father and the others in their discussion of the best course of action, but her father had left the ultimate decision up to her. The spies were confident that they could destroy the weapons cache without needing to wait for reinforcements to try to sneak into the heavily-guarded city, and Keyleth had agreed, authorizing the order for them to do so. She'd felt confident in her decision, sure that the instruction would lead the Ashari Nation one step closer to ending this horrid war.

Until yesterday morning. Until the heads of the five spies she'd ordered to press deeper into Tyriex appeared magically on pikes on the outskirts of Zephrah, dripping with blood and condemnation. Until her father called her into the throne room to tell her of her failure, of the consequences of her poor decision-making. Until she felt the eyes of his advisors on her, cold and piercing, nothing but censure in each stare.

Until today, when every breath is ragged, cutting, burning. The echoing, cacophonous voice in her head is loud, impossibly loud, thunderously loud, a storm cloud that haunts her as she drifts like a ghost through her day. She cannot meet anyone's eyes, cannot hear their platitudes or questions over the sound in her ears.

(—murderer, failure, look what you've done, families torn apart, knew the risk and took it anyway, how can you expect to lead, how can they trust you, they'll always remember what you did—)

She didn't sleep. How could she? How could she close her eyes when every time she does, five sets of lifeless eyes stare back at her, blood oozing from severed throats? She is a ghost, or is haunted by ghosts—either way, she cannot sleep, cannot escape the roaring, screaming, bellowing.

(—will lead your people to ruin, will destroy the beautiful country your forefathers built, what would your mother say, what would she see when she looks in your eyes, what blood would she find on your hands, caked beneath your fingernails like dirt—)

She is so consumed by her torment that she doesn't even notice when she is pulled out of the halls and into a room, can barely see Vax's face as it swims into her vision. "Kiki, I need you to look at me." There are hands on her arms.

She blinks. Again. There he is—oh gods, there he is. (—could have been him, only by the grace of the gods was he not one of the spies you got killed, a mercy you don't deserve—) "I..." Her mouth is dry, can barely form words.

"You are not alright," he is saying. She reads his lips more than she hears the words themselves.

"Too...loud..." she gasps out.

His face folds in confusion. "Too loud where?"

Her hand comes up, presses into the side of her head. "Too loud."

It is such a cruelty, the tenderness with which he kisses her forehead. "I understand." There is an arm around her shoulder now, and she is steered back out into the hall. He walks her down to her chambers, leads her inside, closes the door. Somewhere, there is a vague notion that he should not be here, that it is bright daylight outside, and he cannot be caught in her chambers. Still, she lets him set her on the edge of her bed, does not fight him as he slips off her shoes and lays her back against the pillow.

"I wish you had let me in," he says quietly, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him, and it takes her a few moments to understand his meaning. It isn't until this very moment that she realizes that oh, yes, Vax was not with her last night. She had been so lost in the maelstrom of her own thoughts that if he had come to her in the dark, entreated for entry at the stone door, she never would have heard him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and she is, for an endless list of sins.

"Hey, no." He kisses her cheek, brushes her hair away from her face. "I only meant to say that I wish I had been here with you. I can tell you didn't sleep." He isn't wrong. He straightens up and looks down at her with a peculiar look. "There is a voice in your head, too loud for you to have any other thoughts, is that right?" She nods; it is so very loud. "I have an idea about how to make it quiet. Do you trust me?"

There is no one else. "Yes."

"Go to sleep." Keyleth blinks in surprise; she has never heard him give her an order before. "I will have food sent in for you, and when I come to you tonight, you will let me in, and I will help you find the quiet."

She has no idea what he's talking about, but the firmness in his tone, the confidence, floods through her like cool water on a summer's day. She nods again. Though she is terrified of what might be waiting for her in the dark when she closes her eyes, the way he is looking at her, patient but expectant, she can't fight the heaviness of her lids anymore. She closes her eyes, and before the roaring can consume her, she is asleep.

When she wakes, a fire crackles in the hearth, and she can smell a warm, fragrant soup somewhere nearby. She stands, stiff but significantly less tired, and crosses to her sitting area, where the soup is waiting beside a folded piece of parchment. Curious, she opens this first, and reads the brief note.

Eat, then dress for bed. I will be at the door half an hour after Jarett takes over. Burn this once you've read it.

And she is so tempted to disobey, to keep this tiny scrap of his hand and tuck it away with the rest of her treasures, but he is right. It is too dangerous to have such a note in her possession, even without either of their names anywhere on it. She presses the parchment to her lips before tossing it into the fire.

The world is dark beyond her windows, and when she pads to the door and presses her ear to it, she can hear the small clink of a shortsword against armor that indicates Jarett is on guard now. She doesn't know how much time she has left, so she scarfs down her soup, more ravenous than she'd realized, and follows Vax's next instruction. Her dress is horribly crinkled, having slept in it for gods know how many hours, but she just drapes it over her dressing screen and slips into her nightgown. It is a relief, to be free of the constraints of her wardrobe; she feels freer, lighter, and though the constant refrain in her ears has not disappeared, it is, for the moment, quieter.

When the familiar scratch at the secret door comes, she lets out a shaking breath and opens it. He is there, his eyes soft and warm in the firelight. He carries with him a small satchel, which she eyes curiously as she moves out of the way for him to step inside. He sets it down, and when she closes the door, the first thing he does is kiss her slow, in the way that usually stills the raging seas of her mind, but tonight, even this cannot quiet the din.

"Is it still loud?" he whispers, and she nods. "Okay." He steps back. "If at any point tonight you are uncomfortable with anything happening, say the word stop, and I will stop at once. Do you understand?" She nods. "I need to hear you say it."

"I understand," she breathes, and suddenly her heart is racing, though she doesn't know why. He kneels beside his satchel and rummages around, and when he stands, he's holding a piece of cloth, slipping it back and forth between his fingers. He reaches out and laces his hand with hers, and then wordlessly he pulls her closer to the fire. As they stand before it, he reaches over to her settee and snags a pillow, which he bends down to lay at her feet. Then he takes her hand and guides her down so she's kneeling on it.

Whatever she had expected, it was not this. The right half of her body is aflame, warm, almost too warm, while the other half quickly cools so much she nearly shivers. He walks around behind her, and that piece of cloth, which appears to be a scarf of some kind, comes down over her eyes. She straightens in surprise as Vax ties it behind her head, beneath her hair.

"Does that hurt at all?" She nearly jumps at the voice in her ear. She shakes her head. "Good. Are you uncomfortable?"

She thinks about that. The pillow is thick enough that her knees aren't digging into the stone. Her right side is sweltering, and her left side is frozen, and yet the dramatic difference between the two is somehow satisfying in a way she cannot even describe to herself. It is strange to not be able to see, not when she can sense the light in the room from the fire, but it doesn't frighten her, not like closing her eyes did the night before.

"No," she whispers finally.

"Good," he says again. He reaches around her and stretches her fingers out long to rest against the tops of her thighs, and then she hears him stand and walk away. The voice in her head grows louder (—of course he's leaving, why would he stay, leave you here to think about what you've done, can barely stand to be in your presence—), but before it can consume her, he has returned, kneeling behind her. Without a word, he begins to brush out her hair, slowly, methodically, from root to end. The steady pull of the brush down her back, the small sound of it, barely audible over the fire and her own breathing, quickly becomes mesmerizing. She is lost in the sensation, in his hands on her hair, and for the first time since she received the terrible news, the screaming in her ear has quieted some.

She doesn't know how long he brushes her hair, but eventually she hears the soft clink of the brush being set down on the stone floor, and then his fingers return, coming to the crown to begin plaiting the locks. This, oh this, this is her favorite thing. She breathes in and out, slow and even, as he weaves her hair into the braid, and the rushing roar of her heart has slowed as well.

When the braid is done and tied off, his hands come to rest on the curve of her waist. She sighs; nothing in this world feels like his hands do. His lips are at her ear again. "Still loud?"

Yes, and no. The voice is still there, angry and vitriolic and so very, very cruel, but the shouting is not so deafening. She lets out a ragged breath. "It...could be worse."

"But it could be better." She nods. "Okay." He stands, and then he is in front of her, hands in hers as he pulls her to her feet. She feels a tug, and he is leading her somewhere. She follows unquestioningly; there is nowhere he could be taking her that she will not follow. They stop, and those hands are on her waist again, curling into her nightgown. "You spend so much time..." He kisses her forehead. "...in that brilliant mind of yours. I should like to pull you back out. Can I undress you?"

Oh, how her heart hammers, rattling about in her rib cage like a bird in flight. "Yes."

He is careful not to jostle the blindfold as he slips her nightgown over her head. When she is bare before him, as she has been so many times before and surely will be many times again, she feels different than she has in the past. Perhaps it is the knowledge that whatever comes next, he will be the one to decide. This is only reinforced by his hands once again on her waist—the one on her right side, which had been heated by the fire, feels cold, while the other warms her—lifting her to sit on the bed.

"I'll be right back." He walks away again, and this time she can't help it; she lets out a small, needy whine, a tiny plea for him to return. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, as if releasing the tension that holds them together will cause her to fall apart entirely.

He returns just a few moments later, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "That's enough of that." Keyleth notices for the first time that he has yet to speak above a whisper since he arrived. "If it's too loud in here—" His hand comes to rest against the side of her head, and she presses into his palm, a cat seeking its scratches. "—then you will focus on being quiet out here." And his fingers come to dance along her lips.

She doesn't understand what he's saying, but she waits patiently, hands still in her lap. He picks her hands up, runs his callused fingers over her knuckles. "I'm going to explain what I'd like to have happen, and then you tell me if that sounds alright to you." She nods. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to tie your wrists together and attach them to the headboard of the bed." Her breath catches in her throat, and he must sense her worry, because he smoothly continues, "You do not have to agree to this, but if you do, you would be able to give me a signal, and I would untie you at once, no hesitation, no questions."

Heat ripples beneath Keyleth's skin. This...this is nothing she'd ever considered before. To be tied up, restrained on one's own bed, it is the kind of horror that any princess, any woman has been trained to fear—and yet there is such implicit trust in him, in his hands and in his love for her, that any such fear gives way easily to curiosity, to desire, to the need to give in.

When she does not object, he presses on. "I will then touch you, in a variety of ways, with a variety of objects, in order to keep your mind on this body that I love so very dearly, and not on whichever horrors it wishes to remind you of. And throughout it all, you will not be allowed to make any sounds."

Keyleth's brow furrows. This instruction runs counter to what she knows Vax enjoys. They are used to being quiet in their endeavors out of necessity, to be sure, but Keyleth knows well how pleased Vax becomes when she vocalizes how much she is enjoying herself. She wonders if this could possibly work, if she will be able to ignore the screaming bedlam in her head long enough to be in her body, as Vax has suggested.

His hands squeeze hers gently, and she realizes he's waiting for an answer. "What if..." She's practically croaking, her voice is so broken. "What if I break the rules?"

He hums thoughtfully. His fingertips are on her throat now, whispering down to her collarbone, along her chest, to rest over one peaked nipple. He gives it a small pinch, enough to elicit a brief jolt of pain followed by an unexpected inundation of pleasure, and like a miracle, she is firmly back in her body, even for just a moment. "Is that too much?" She shakes her head vigorously. "Good. What do you think about my proposal for the evening?"

In truth, she is scared, not of what he has planned, but of herself, of all the ways she might set this plan awry. What if she doesn't react the way he expects? What if she cannot keep quiet—worse, what if she is loud? What if she is incapable of escaping the pandemonium in her mind, and she is lost to the whirlwind of thoughts forever—

"Keyleth." His hand is resting flat against her stomach, pressing just slightly against the rise and fall of it as she breathes. "You cannot disappoint me. It is not possible. I just need to know what you think."

She just needs it to be quiet. "Yes."

His hands are at her wrists now, and there is something silky and soft being woven between them. When he's finished, she gives a small test tug, but they are lashed together, tight but not cutting. He moves her shoulders so she is falling back against her bed, her head caught by her many downy pillows. The stretch in her shoulders as her hands are brought up above her head feels good, if a bit sore, and after some quiet commotion, he murmurs, "How does that feel?"

Another experimental tug, and her hands only move a few inches in either direction. For the briefest moment, there is a panicked feeling in her chest—trapped, can't get out, must get out, must flee—but she takes a deep breath and tries again. She can smell him, the warm, woodsy scent of his skin, and in the quiet of the chambers, she can hear his breathing. She pulls her wrists again, and this time, there is a rippling of comfort, of safety, of calm. She can't move, but she doesn't have to.

She nods, and he hums in approval. "Thank you for staying quiet. Now." The bed shifts, and after a moment, his hand is resting on her stomach again. "I'm going to put something in one of your hands." She obediently opens one hand, and sure enough, something is pressed into it, small and soft and squishy. "That's a little sponge I found. If at any point this evening you are uncomfortable or wish to stop, let go of that, and I will stop what I'm doing at once and untie you. Do you understand?" She nods again. "Good girl."

And oh does that send something hot and pleasant rippling up her spine. She lies there, arms stretched over her head, and her whole body trembles as she waits. She tries to focus on her body, on the cool air settling over her skin, on the anticipation in her throat, but a new thought edges in, twirls around her mind as her breath quickens in her chest.

(—princess, you're a fucking royal, what are you doing here, stretched out like a pig on a spit, if your people only knew, if your father only knew, what they would say about your depravity, your weakness—)

She is distracted by the strangest sensation at the hollow of her throat. Soft, light, almost tickling—something swirls around her collarbone, an S pattern across her chest, down and around one breast, then the other, and as it skips down the plane of her stomach, which ripples in its wake, she can feel the tight rash of gooseflesh it leaves behind. The sensation pulls at something behind her navel, and her mind is consumed by the feeling, the teasing, the question. It is, in a word, erotic; her breath comes faster, shallower, as this mysterious tingle emanates across her skin.

This object that Vax is using—a feather, perhaps?—trails lower, along the inside of one thigh, just barely grazing where she is now slick and hot, and her toes curl. It tickles the bottom of her foot, and the laugh she lets out is airy, more of a gasp than anything. The object disappears, and Keyleth just manages to choke off the whine in her throat.

"No noise, remember?" purrs a voice at her ear. He's right. She promised, no sound. She nods vigorously, her back bowing off the bed in a silent plea for him to return to his ministrations. He chuckles low and obliges. This time, he keeps his movements unpredictable, the maybe-feather dusting across one nipple, then her cheekbone, then the top of her foot, then the palm of her hand. Her focus is tied solely to where the sensation will be next, leaving no space for any other thoughts or worries to creep in.

Oh. Well. This is nice.

The feather brushes softly, so softly, over her parted lips, and then it is replaced by his, a teasing kiss, followed by, "Did that feel good?" She nods, and this time, she can't swallow the whine that bubbles up when the heat of his mouth moves away from hers. Almost immediately, she lets out a small gasp as her nipple is tugged just enough to send that sharp spasm across her chest. "Quiet now," he reminds her gently. He soothes the now-sore nipple by putting his mouth to it, rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud until Keyleth can only breathe in short, desperate pants.

"Let's move on, shall we?" His body heat vanishes, and there is the sound of rummaging from beside the bed. All Keyleth can think about is what is coming next, where it will touch her, how it will feel. Her ears strain to follow his every movement, so she jumps in surprise when, on the opposite side of her body, right at the concave of her waist, a biting cold presses in, wet and sharp. Her brow furrows—ice?

"This was hard to keep cold," he murmurs, trailing the block of ice up over onto her stomach, which ripples inward in an attempt to shy away from the intense sensation. The ice glides easily over her skin, and for a moment, Keyleth imagines that Vax's fingers are skaters flying flawlessly over a frozen pond. They take the ice up, over each breast, along her bobbing throat. Then it is gone, and Keyleth jolts once again when it reappears at the back of her knee, which kicks out in reflex.

Vax hums out a laugh. "My apologies." The ice teases up her thigh. "I worry you are becoming...overheated, my love." She can feel the cold radiating from the ice cube, just the right side of painful against her heated folds. She chokes back a whimper; she wants, even though she knows it will hurt. "Does this help?"

The ice cube presses in, nestles shockingly into her heat. Her back bows off the bed—it is too much, it is not enough, it is excruciating, it is ecstasy—and a gasp escapes her lips. Her wrists are straining against their binding as he works the ice cube up and down, somehow both satisfying her desire and completely denying it at the same time.

The ice stays where it is, but Vax's mouth is once again at her ear. "Please nod to tell me that you're alright, or shake—"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence, because Keyleth is nodding violently, her hips dancing and twisting as they try to simultaneously move closer to and farther from the cold. A chuckle rumbles low in Vax's throat, and she wants to bite it from him. "Alright then."

The ice dances teasingly among her folds for a few more moments, and then it is gone, and the blood is rushing back to warm the area. Keyleth feels as if she is going mad, her mind swirling not with coherent thoughts but with an overwhelming, cacophonous need.

She is left bare to the cool chamber air for a minute. Her toes clench and relax as she waits impatiently for whatever Vax has planned next. Her face crumples in confusion when she hears the distinct sound of the striking of a match—what is he doing?

The edge of the bed sinks, presumably as he sits on it. "Do you remember the word to say if you need me to stop?" She nods. "Can you say it for me, please?"

"Stop." Her voice cracks, somehow already rough from disuse.

"Good girl." Her stomach flips happily. "I want you to remember that you can say that word at any time."

His palm comes to rest atop the expanse of her belly, and she's chewing over his warning in her mind when there is a sharp, intense spot of pain, just above her belly button. She gasps at the intense, shocking heat, the pooling sting of it that, oddly, begins to cool, almost at once. She can feel other things now, besides the pain: a tightness below the spot, sticky and thick—candle wax?

"Was that too much?"

She holds her breath, thinks it over. It hurt, to be sure, the sharp slap of liquid heat against her skin. But now it is more of a dull warmth, hardened into something that tugs ever-so-gently on her skin. It is...strange, and deeply visceral, and, she thinks, not at all too much. She shakes her head.

"Good. I'm glad. To be honest, I was a bit worried about this one." Another dollop of wax slips onto her shoulder, and she sighs in that odd pleasure-pain again. There is a small sizzle, but Keyleth can't bring herself to worry. She trusts Vax, trusts that he would never cause her any real harm. The wax cools and hardens, and her fingers itch to peel it away, but they remain obstinately tied above her head.

Vax varies the time between drips, leaves her wriggling and unmoored. With each one, spread over her torso and legs, the initial burst of pain quickly gives way to a simmering relief, as if she needed to feel that brief burn for her skin to settle properly over her bones. A large bead of wax drops onto her inner thigh, and the angle is such that it begins to roll down slowly toward the bed. This movement, unlike the others, is a bit too much, and a whine begins in the back of her throat. She instantly attempts to correct herself, not wishing to break the one rule she's been given, but instead of punishing her, Vax is quick to act on the wax. His thumb swipes it away before it can crawl down another inch.

"I'm sorry, my love." His lips, cool in comparison to the melted candle wax, brush over the heated skin. "That was careless of me. Are you hurt?" She shakes her head. "I need you to be honest with me, Kiki. You can speak, if you must."

Except she doesn't want to speak. She wants him to believe her, to listen to what she's saying with her body. With a contented sigh, she lets her leg fall to the side, so that she is more open, more exposed to him than she was before—an invitation, a reassurance. She must convince him, because he hums and presses his lips to the slight burn once more before carefully letting some more wax dribble along her clavicle.

He continues on like this, varying the location and amounts, for a few more minutes, until Keyleth is panting and her mind is swimming. She is entirely, completely aware of her body, more attuned to each inch than she ever has been in her life. She can feel the gently shifting air rustle her fine hairs, feel the distant flames in the fireplace dance across the soles of her feet. She is here, in this room, in this bed, under his eyes, as if this is where she has always been, as if this is where she will always be.

Eventually, she hears the telltale sound of the candle being set down against her bedside table, and Vax asks, "Are you with me?" Instead of nodding, she lets her mouth fall lax into what she hopes is a satisfied smile. "Good." His hand is back on her leg now, drifting inward. "Do you want to be done for the evening?" His fingers begin to tease, slowly, up and down, tiny circles that send her eyes rolling in their sockets. "Or shall I...finish you off?"

So cruel of him to ask her in such a way that requires a response, rather than a shake or a nod of the head. To tell him how keenly she desires him still, she spreads her legs apart farther, now properly open, and she shivers as the air between them cools slightly.

He breathes out a laugh. "Alright then."

The bed shifts, and Keyleth has felt this enough times to know that Vax now kneels between the V of her trembling legs. She doesn't need to see to know what he looks like: backlit by the fire, glowing and warm, hunger in his eye and a mischievous curl to his lips. Rough hands slide up her thighs, caching wonderfully on her smooth skin.

"Remember," he rumbles, his breath hot against her tender, twitching folds, "not a sound, my love."

And then his mouth is on her, his tongue working her open as an arm comes to attempt to still her wild hips. She is still blindfolded, but the blackness explodes into white light as finally, finally, she is granted the relief she has been craving. How easily this man, so adroit in wielding a blade and inflicting efficient violence, has become as a virtuoso in the scales of her pleasure. Were she not under strict orders to stay silent—orders she will follow if it kills her—she would be singing for him, high, sharp notes of ecstasy.

But she swallows them, gathers all of her strength to concentrate solely on not making a peep. He pulls and pushes and sucks and licks, and the only sounds she makes are her heavy breaths and the small creaks of the headboard as she strains against her bonds. She can barely hear him, the wet noises of his ministrations, over the consistent, low buzzing in her head, an even sound that grows louder as her pleasure crests. There is no room in her mind anymore, just the hum and the bright sparks up her spine as his devilish mouth brings her closer and closer to her climax.

Vax must sense this, because his hands clench her hips, pull her tights against his lips. He doesn't even need his fingers, such a wicked, clever tongue he has—the buzz crescendos into a roar, and for a moment, the darkness is blinding light as her body twists up and off the bed. She crashes back down, panting as if she'd just sprinted the length of the castle, as he gently works her through the aftershocks.

Her body is numb and her mind is blank. The bed is shifting again, and she feels Vax's body head along one side. "How are you feeling?" he whispers. "Use your words, please."

She has now idea how to answer that. "I...it's just so quiet." Her own voice, hoarse and shaky, is suddenly deafening, even though she spoke no more loudly than he did.

He laughs at that. "Good. It's what I was aiming for." His fingertips brush her inner wrists. "Shall I untie you?"

She stretches a bit, unsure of what she wants. "I think...yes. But..." She bites her lips, suddenly nervous she's broken a rule.

"Ask me."

"Can the blindfold stay?" There is such unexpected comfort, she finds, in the darkness.

"Of course, my love." He begins to deftly undo her restraints, and as he carefully lowers her arms back down, he litters her wrists with kisses. "Does anything hurt?"

She shakes her head. She cannot imagine less pain than this. He pulls her into his chest, and for the first time all evening, she is aware of his own need, pressing hard and insistent against her hip. She reaches for it instinctually. "Oh gods, Vax, I didn't even think—"

He catches her wrist easily, having the advantage of sight, and brings her palm to his lips, which are still slick. "Do not worry for me, Kiki. Tonight was not meant for my pleasure, but your peace." HIs hand comes up to cradle her head. "Has the storm passed?"

The voice, cruel and relentless, has finally fallen silent. "Yes."

"Then I am perfectly sated. Come here."

She curls into him her body loose and pliable. Still unable to see, she focuses on the sensations of him she can perceive: the hard, smooth planes of his chest, the smell of his hair and his sweat, the gentle scratch of his fingertips as he begins to cautiously peel back the spots of wax still hardened onto her skin, the sound of his voice, low and crackling, as he says, "I hope you know how proud I am of you. How there is nothing you could do in this life or the next to make me not love you. How much faith I have in you as a leader. How you are, in my eyes, the very best thing the gods have to offer this world." Her throat is thick now, eyes hot with unshed tears. "I cannot make the doubt or the shame or the fear go away, but know that I will always be here when you need a respite from the noise."

Keyleth has received a great many gifts in all her years as royalty, jewels and fine dresses and treasures that could outshine the sun—but all of them together could never be half as precious to her as he. "Kiss me.”

Her generous knight obliges, and he tastes like her, like firewood, like the sun, like home.

#critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #critical role au #cr au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #my fic #my fair lady

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highlifeboat · 2 years

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You got me hooked on mercenaries mode being angsty from the daughter's perspective. And I just can’t help but think, in the game, Miranda gives the basically nuclear kill order to kill everyone in the castle. (If I remember correctly)

What if that kill order had gone only to Alcina, and when Miranda said everyone, she meant everyone.

But of course Alcina isn't going to kill her daughters, she was ready for treason the second Ethan shot holes in the wall and killed one of said daughters and Miranda didn't have a care to give. Alcina threw a vanity and went "to hell with it, revenge it is!" And rebelled against Miranda to try and kill Ethan.

But Miranda wants the slate clean if she's going to bring back her daughter. No failed experiments are allowed in the presence of her grand and perfect daughter. Her Eva. And she has to start somewhere. So she starts with the deadly Lady Dimitrescu

She figures, to repay Alcina for all of her loyal years of service (and because Miranda is a sick twisted person), Miranda had given Alcina an ultimatum.

Either Alcina kills the girls, or Miranda will come over there and do it herself.

Because after all, Miranda only gave the girls to Alcina when they proved to be failures. And such failures cannot be tolerated in the new world she's planning on making.

And both Alcina and Miranda know if Miranda kills the girls, she'll make it hell.

So, Alcina has two choices, mercy kill her daughters before Miranda gets to them or try to protect them only to let them suffer a slow and torturous death for Alcina's failure to do as Miranda ordered.

Alcina is shown to be angry and pissed off in her grief, so no wonder why she seems absolutely ruthless when she kills her daughters.

The girls realize their mother is a monster. They'll never know she was trying to protect them from one.

Holy FUCK this hurts. I love it. I LOVE THIS.

Because imagine the aftermath.

Alcina has killed the children she'd sworn to protect. The girls she'd raised from "infants". The ones she always promised she would never hurt, and never allow anyone else to hurt. Her poor daughters, who loved her unconditionally. Who she loved more than anything. Who cried and screamed and questioned why? Why was she hurting them? What had they done wrong? Who would never understand she was giving them mercy, saving them from something far more physically painful.

Her poor little girls, who felt nothing but betrayal and never stood a chance against her.

Miranda comes to make sure the deed is done, prepared to end thing herself, but walks in on the scene of Alcina cradling the crystalize busts of her children. She's a sobbing mess over them by this point, choking out apologies and begging for forgiveness. Praying her daughters won't resent her wherever they are now.

And Miranda, not caring for the sentiments, scoffs a little. Alcina wants to lash out at her, but she doesn't. As her daughters stood no chance against her, she would stand little chance against her own "Mother".

Miranda tells her not to fret, that in a matter of moments Alcina will be joining them. Despite her own sense of betrayal, Alcina isn't surprised. She doesn't want to live in a world without her precious daughters. And perhaps this is what is owed. Miranda approaches, the Dagger of Death's Flower in her hand. Alcina can see it glinting in the light. She swallows.

And, for what feels like the first time since her mutation, Miranda gives her praise. Says that she's happy to know Alcina still had enough of a head to make smart decisions. She's happy with the work Alcina has done that day. Perhaps even cups her cheek with one hand and tells her she'll grant the mercy of a quick death before plunging the dagger into Alcina's throat

And it burns. Far worse than Alcina ever could have imagined. The busts fall from her arms, Miranda pulls the dagger out, simply watching the black blood ooze from the wound. To her, Alcina is just another failure. A blight on her new world.

All Alcina can do is prey she'll see her daughters again when she join the Black God, and pray even harder that they'll forgive her for what she's done.

#this is tastey angst #asks #anons #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda

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ochamiko · 2 years

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Himiko x Ochako playlist — and she was crying

01. Killer Queen by FIL BO RIVA

02. TEARS by HEALTH

03. Give and Take by Poor Mans Poison

04. Killer Love by Madame Macabre

05. Love bites by Ice Nine Kills

06. Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

07. I Want What's She's Got by D-A-D

08. Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard

09. Freak Flag by Ice Nine Kills

10. Killer Queen by 5 Seconds of Summer

11. I Love Rock 'N Roll by Joan Jett

12. Shadow On The Wall by Mike Oldfield

13. Rainy Day by Ice Nine Kills

14. Goodnight by Jayn

15. Come And Get Your Love by Redbone

16. The dance of the corpses by Kikuo

17. Perfect by My Enemies & I

18. she calls me daddy by KiNG MALA

19. La Di Da by VUKOVI

20. Who Is She? by I Monster

21. Hydrochloride by Ghostemane

22. Pretender by AJR

23. Hold me Back by Bass Up!

24. Little Dark Age by Lofis

25. favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

26. Strangelove Addiction by Supreme Beings of Leisure

27. Can't Pretend by Tom Odell

28. Bang Bang Bang Bang by Sohodolls

29. Slasher by Cassetter, Extra Terra

30. The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit

31. Warriors by Imagine Dragons

32. Talking is Hard by Weathers

33. Novocaine by The Unlikely Candidates

34. Misfits T-Shirt by DREAMERS

35. Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking

36. Freaky Deaky by Tyga, Doja Cat

37. Pursuit by Peyruis

38. Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

39. Formula 666 by Sarah and the Safe Word

40. Sick on Seventh Street by Sarah and the Safe Word

41. rapunzel by emlyn

42. Let's be Friends by Emily Osment

43. Lobotomy by Lucy Loone

44. Toxic Valentine by All Time Low

45. i luv him. by Catie Turner

46. "99" by Barns Courtney, Kat Krazy

47. Golden Dandelions by Barns Courtney

48. Tall Glass of Cyanide by Adam Jensen

49. Feel Real Pretty by Paper Idol

50. Superhuman by Party Favor, K. Flay

51. Palm Reader by DREAMERS, Big Boi, UPSAHL

52. Super Psycho Love by Simon Curtis

53. Love Me, Love Me, Love Me by Kikuo

54. I Just Want To Be The One You Love by Boxout

55. Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

56. Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

57. Love Taste by Moe Shop, Jamie Paige, Shiki-TMNS

58. Hermit the Frog by MARINA

59. Love Me Dead by Ludo

60. Suki Suki Daisuki by Jun Togawa

61. I Love You So by the Walters

62. The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

63. Stalker's Tango by Autoheart

64. Lesbian Vampyres From Outer Space by Scary Bitches

65. by Molchat Doma

66. Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

67. Every Day by bo en

68. You Always Eat The One You Love by Scary Bitches

69. Villain by Stella Jang

70. I Deserve to Bleed by Sushi Soucy

71. Blood and Bones by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

72. Michelle by Sir Chloe

73. I Still Adore You by The Oozes

74. This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

75. Entropy by Awkward Marina

76. Addict by Silva Hound

77. Happy Together by Slothrust

78. I'm Not Angry Anymore by Paramore

79. Screw Loose by Alli Mauzey

80. Cigarette Duet by Princess Chelsea

81. Lemon Boy by Cavetown

82. Sugar Dust by YukoEXE

83. She's Crazy but She's Mine by Alex Sparrow

84. Girls In Bikinis by Poppy

85. FAILURE GIRL by Karikibear

86. The Drug In Me Is You by Falling In Reverse

87. IN MY MOUTH by Black Dresses

88. Good Girl by Morganne

89. Poison by Alice Cooper

90. killer queen by Mad Tsai

#uratoga #togachako #playlist #blahs

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kyeterna · 1 year

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Search Party of Four

"Ioanna Myrou was last seen in the evening of October 5th, as she left the event venue to look for her friend according to eye-witnesses. No signs of her whereabouts have been found so far"

The news were clear, and the police narrative alligned as well, even if they were reluctant to pursue the case further. But the girls something was very wrong about the case.

Ioanna Myrou was last seen in the evening of October 5th, covered in wounds that still bled, presumably running from something, in the back of a storage room near the event venue. Dimitra is sure she saw her. She was certain that even if for a moment she saw her best friend look at her terrified. But before she could confirm it she was dragged away by her new found friends who were running away from angry security guards. "But we were just having fun"

With the police's reluctance to find their friend, Dimitra, Lucy, Rosa and Kassandra, as the last witnesses of the disappearence, are forced to investigate the truth of what happened on that fateful evening of October 5th. Little did they know they would be stumbling upon a conspiracy much bigger than what they could imagine.

================================================

Search Party of Four is one of my original works, taking place in a small coastal city in Greece, in an urban fantasy setting. How exactly? Well you'd have to find out along with our protagonists. The story should be a short one taking place within a month chronologically in universe. A mystery with slice of life elements as we get to learn things about each girl's life and interpersonal conflicts.

Kassandra Petropoulou

The heir in line of the Petropoulos group, a conglomerate that owns multiple businesses throughout the country. She grew up pretty sheltered mostly by the employees at the family's estate. Despite her seemingly closed off attitude she has the undeniable charisma to draw people in. However with their interest appearing mostly superficial she has grown distrustful.

Lucy (Lukia) Glarou

Born and raised in the US, her family had to move to her father's family home back in Greece after one disaster after the other forced them to go bankrupt with no place to stay. Now she has to adjust in a completely different (and quite closed off) environment. Thanks to her very optimistic outlook, pushing her down is gonna be hard.

Roza (Rosalia) Lykidi

"Dreaming is for those who can afford to do it" and according to Roza she does't have the means to do it. Leading a life of marginalisation, it's been filled with constant hardship. But even if she seems actively hostile towards most people, she is incredibly loyal, a ride-or-die person with tons of compassion for others. As adult-like as she wants to appear she is still a kid hurt by a cruel world around them.

Dimitra Lyritsa

The most extraordinary thing about Dimitra is how ordinary she is. A walking second place medal. Her entire life she's been living in the massive shadow of her extraordinary family and the expectations placed upon her. But living in said shadow grants her an invisibility she finds quite comforting sometimes. And so she's learnt to move within that shadow. Because if you try to do better, failure means ridicule. Or worse.

Ioanna Myrou

A social butterfly, beloved by both classmates and teachers alike, peers an adults. A personality oozing with charisma it feels like she can make friends with just about anyone. Which then brought the surprising reaction to her disappearance: everyone seemed sad but not too distraught about it. The only ones who really tried to do anything about it were her parents and her friend Dimitra.

Thank you for going through this post with me, I hope you stay around to see more of them and eventually their actual story (It should be about 30 chapters long? It's a short one, but still needs a lot of careful planning as all mystery stories go). Everything related to the story will be tagged as "search party of four" and "SPof4"

#writerna #search party of four #SPof4 #SPof4 Kassandra #SPof4 Lucy #SPof4 Roza #SPof4 Dimitra #SPof4 Ioanna #kyeterna oc #you can tell some of the sketches were drawn more recently compared to the others #you see the initial Dimitra and Kassandra sketches looked ugly af when I made an oc thread thing months ago #so I redrew them for this masterpost and they look much better #dimitra and ioanna are in love your honour #also I should mention Ioanna is alive and stays alive ok I wouldn't let her die like that

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tarnished-doll · 2 years

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girl godrick is afab but still genderfluid and i feel like that angle is interesting, because a lot of canon godrick's character oozes late-stage toxic masculinity poisoning. he's absolutely fucked up over not meeting godfrey standards of cis-masculinity even if he does use grafting as an atypical source of gender euphoria (and, lest we forget, cis ppl experience and desire gender euphoria and feel dysphoria too). from what breadcrumbs we get about him in-game its all tied to how he doesnt measure up to his family's gold standard of manliness to the point of crossdressing rumors floating around so i think its safe to say that there's sort of an effeminate streak there.

his circumstances are a perfect storm for the Worst Environment Ever to come out as transmasc tbh, but also like. masculinity is a performance, but so is femininity. which is why i designed fem godrick (godiva? would the names godiva+godrick be reversed in this situation? i like to think so because that just makes the parental issue headcanons extra messy >:)!) to be extremely feminine, and that means her gender-nonconforming vice is exactly the same toxic masculinity she would have been spared by virtue of not being the male heir.

masc!godrick has a certain softness he tries to hide, but fem!godrick has a certain hardness to her that she was made to repress. the timeline of failures is more or less the same, from both making the same stupid mistakes coming from the same places of wanting to Win and be the cool sexy successful hero that measures up tp godfrey. but while masc!godrick does it out of this kind of grim sense of obligation to his gender and his role in the family line (and its making him fucking Miserable), its much more of a source of liberation and gender euphoria for fem!godrick (and its Fucking Awesome and she's having a blast and she only cries about it Sometimes. she's built different)

#having a real headfoggy day so words escape me #so like dude just trust me on this #godrick the grafted

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benefits1986 · 1 year

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Dopamine & Lo-Fi Beats For Lunch

Last night, I napped at around 7 and woke up at midnight. I checked my phone and got a live update of ina’s final stats. 47/32 BP. Breathing is going down even when the oxygen tank’s pumping at a 10. Funny how I chose to stay home so that I won’t get details about her last two minutes, but, there it goes, again and again and again. SEEN. SEEN. SEEN. Typing... SEEN. Cursor blinking at me. SEEN. SEEN. I almost forgot to take a pee but my 37-year old bladder nudged me to get up and take a fast break. SEEN. SEEN. SEEN. Plugged in deep sleep PL on lo-fi to hopefully calm my numbness. Yes. I calm my numbness, because I’m still managing my PTSD 11 years back. I stared back at the friggin’ uncalled for live updates. UUAP ba ‘to, mhie? Ano na? I tried scrolling through IG Harry Potter and shih tzu reels then went back on r/astralprojection and r/luciddream. Such a fail attempt. Turned up the volume of my supposedly soothing PL, but, no. My numbness is taking over. DOPAMINE The cocktail of my ina’s last weeks. Hello, dopamine! In my 8 years of taking care of mother dragon, never did I come across dopamine as a prescription. I slid a DM to my soul sister who is the half of my Polaris for anything palliative care concerns. ME: So, dopa can be on IV? HER: In SG, we do that too. Depends on the case of the patient and of course, the consent of the family. ME: Can I get a dopa x sero x oxy cocktail even when I’m totes fine? HER: ‘Yan ka na naman. OD girl na malala ang saltik. ME: Just a curious question. HER: I know you too well. ME: I know me too well. HER: How are you? ME: Very sharp q right there. HER: Hug. ME: Oks. Usap tayo soon. Bwelo muna ako. HER: Mag-leave ka na. ME: Tignan ko. HER: Don’t tell me “work is your drug” era ka na naman? SEEN. Twisted humor aside, dopamine really put my ina on a palaban meets happy high. She even managed to speak straight English at times. I joked na lang that I was teaching her some English millennial slang during my graveyard shift with her. Dopamine caused her too much energy that she was not able to sleep. When in pain, she shouted out AYOKO NA so many times. One second, she is still, the other she’s at whatever hallucination heaven she zooms in and out on. Since I was interfacing with her doctors, I asked hard questions like, what’s the end state? We have 1 millennial doctor and 1 senior, so that replies kind of varied but, are in unison with the truth... my ina’s stage lights are going down once the full effect of dopamine is lifted. Most likely, coma then organ failure. By the way, I was in the sidelines when the whole dopamine or no dopamine shebang was ongoing. But, that’s another story. Just want to put it out here, so I am super duper clear. Dopamine, you little trickster, but, ‘wag ako. Tabi. LO-FI (HEART)BEATS One of the tasks I give to her care team is to send me ina’s vital stats several times of the day plus a few more stuff. I know that she’s not gonna be better, but numbers make me see what I can try to troubleshoot, still. Dad is amazed and annoyed everytime he sees me making calls and sending texts to ina’s doctors. Bashing and bleeding vibe siya for the past weeks since he tells me that I am but making my ina’s endgame a more painful one. To add salt to the already oozing wound, he also consoles me saying na anak nga ako ng nanay ko. Translation: Never say never. Ahoo. Ahoo. Ahoo. And syempre, all out sa giving kahit ubos na ubos na ako. :D OWEEMM. He told me that the more I troubleshoot, the more some family members will feel a fake sense of comfort that things are going better. I chose to stay as silent as I can because, I know exactly what he means; however, I am lining up my ina’s best version of her endgame, the one that she deserves after 8 decades and 8 years of being with a family of over 60 people and counting. Next stop: Inception x Dad Edition I forced myself to share hidden stories about how I handled mother dragon’s grand finale. Damn. Damay na naman ako, but, doon tayo sa HEAL TOGETHER mindset. Honestly, I told dad na yes my control freak x empath mode is on a high, but, more importantly, I am guided by a single thing: WWMDD --what would mother dragon do? I said na what I’m doing for my ina is so basic kasi if mom was here and now, naku, tumabi kayong lahat. Siya na. Because I’m trying to be a better hybrid version of mom and dad, I gradually stopped troubleshooting. Gah. Those tiny little details, those moments when I can alert people to a sharp left or a smack right. I need to let go. I need to take off my control freak baby pink bucket hat because no matter how hard I work my ass off, ina is going down. It’s not about the pneumonia, bed sores, fever, or UTI. Her lymphoma reminds me of Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs --’yung lumaki na sila ng hindi mo inaakala and nagtawag pa sila ng tropa. She can no longer swallow because the lump in her throat is getting bigger and bigger. I told dad that this is his last two minutes to make worthwhile memories with ina. I didn’t force or mandate. I simply shared with him the crap that I’ve gone through but how I don’t regret any missed year I could have devoted to work or love life (LUH) because my timer is expiring sooner rather than later with mother dragon. A little over a week, he packed his bags and said that he is coming home, para sa life. CHAR. And today, he called me and my brother with a smile on his teary eye. Dad said na tapos na. Pahinga na siya. Okay lang ako dito. Uminom na ako ng gamot. Bike ako ulit mamaya. 47/32. Breathing is slowing. Vital signs are on lo-fi. 4 last breaths. And gone. Forever. 12:25 am March 23 All six children stayed with ina until her final game. Held her hands. Prayed with and for her. One of the most epic troubleshooting projects I’ve conceptualized, executed and optimized. EMS. But, in all honesty, the past weeks have been a totally life-changing... humbling, nakaka-isod ng kaibuturan and of course, with stories worth sharing. TEDTalks x MNL na pala ‘to. I hope this time around, I would allow myself to feel instead of succumbing to doing. I hope that I choose to grieve even when my emotion spells numb all over. Even my LSS is Defy Gravity which is soooo weird and too problematic. Hindi ko matanggal sa sistema ko. I sincerely wish that this loss will be the beginning of something wonderful. Multiverse, ikaw na bahala. Back to regular programming. Not bad for a lunchbreak thought fart, noh? Sorrnuh lungs my dyslexia is on a high, too! :D

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loverdrew · 4 years

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Just A Little Longer | s.r

(not my gif)

Synopsis: A day out on the field doesn’t go as planned, and Y/N is thrown into am ambulance to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital before anyone can help.

A Grey’s Anatomy x Criminal Minds crossover.

Warnings: none (?)

There was a ringing in the air louder than the one you hear everyday. I felt my breathing hinder. My eyes can only open so wide, enough to see the light, but once by my side, could see only a dark substance quickly oozing out of my body. As I came to, I could tell it was getting harder and harder to breathe, a sharp pain with every inhale and exhale. Upon instinct, I checked my fingers for mobility, feeling that they could move slightly. At least this means I am not paralyzed in my upper body. There was no other noise for a few more minutes, just a slight rustling of trees and the dirt road beneath me. I don’t even remember the initial shot being taken, whether it was from me or him. All I remember is instantly falling to the floor once I arrived on the scene. I just laid in my own blood, the realization that no one may be coming for me.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!” I could faintly hear from what felt like a mile away. My brain perked at the voice, definitively Morgan, but my body would not react. I tried with every might to move my limbs once again but alas, nothing. It was if my brain was screaming and sending pulses to my muscles but it just refused to move. I started to feel hands all over me, lifting me and placing me on what I could imagine was a gurney, as it moved. My sense of hearing coming in full force, beginning to hear people talking and shuffling. Hotch and Morgan were asking where I was being transported to and Emily and JJ consoling someone else who I could hear was practically sobbing.

“They’re going to take care of her, c’mon let’s just go follow them now!” Emily yelled to everyone. But that distressed someone fought back.

“No! She’s not even moving! They’re intubating her! Emily she’s dying!”

Spencer....?

“Reid, you want to help her? Get out of here and go to the hospital.” Hotch firmly said, I could even tell he probably put his hands on Reid, as the sound of prominent footsteps were halted. And the next thing I heard was doors closing, and the sirens blaring.

Once we had arrived at the hospital, I heard a woman’s voice that sounded very strong, like she was in charge.

“What do we got?” She asked.

“GW to the left ribcage, she’s lost a lot of blood, almost 2 pints. We’ve been intubating her since we got to the scene but Bailey, it doesn’t look too good. Possible head contusion when she hit the floor as well.” The EMT stated.

“Alright I’ll page Shepard and Hunt immediately. Out of the way everybody! FBI agent coming through!” And my gurney started moving even faster, winding down a short hallway into a room where I could hear many doctors coming to look at my wounds. I felt absolutely helpless, not being able to communicate what hurts for me. What if they miss something? What if they can’t help me in time? The EMT said I lost a lot of blood, what if it’s too much to come back from?

“Hang 2 units of O neg now!” A man with a deep voice yelled out. I could feel big, callus hands turning me on my back, and the next thing I knew a needle was being shoved in my arm and a warm sensation filling my arm.

“Owen she needs to go up to CT now or she’s not going to make it.” A woman with a softer voice spoke next to the man.

“Amelia she needs this wound patched first or she’ll bleed out and then she won’t even have a chance in CT.” He raised his voice at her, kind of like how Hotch can be sometimes.

“Let me see, I can patch quickly if everyone gives me space. Looks like the bullet left through the back as well.” This time it was another man with a softer voice than the first, and instantly felt his delicate hands holding onto my ribs, feeling a metal substance touching my skin. By my analysis, he’s most likely a plastics surgeon. Only a man in plastics has such delicate touch.

“Well hurry Jackson she’s got about 10 minutes before that brain contusion completely debilitates her and she’ll be in a coma.”

“Yea I got it.” He said nonchalant.

The sounds of beeping and shuffling were quickly interrupted by deep screams, of which belonged to the lanky pretty boy. My heart rate instantly got faster the second his voice entered the room.

“Sir, sir who are you?” The plastics guy asked urgently.

“I-I’m her, her uh- I’m just a friend, please let me be next to her.” He pleaded, rasp in his voice. I can tell he had been crying the whole ride over.

“Okay, sir you’re gonna have to wait with everybody else, she’s in a lot of distress and she’s lost a lot of blood. We’re doing everything we can for her.” Almost on cue, my heart monitor started spazzing. The loud beeping indicating I’m going into cardiac failure.

“She’s in V-fib, get the defibrillator now!” The man with the lower voice yelled. I felt the clothing on my body being ripped open, a few buttons popping and flying off. The patches were on and in a few seconds, I felt the shock and I could feel it vibrate every vessel inside me. They cleared a second a time, my heart rate returning to normal.

“Okay Jackson you’re gonna have to finish her later she needs a head scan now.” The women voiced, and immediately I could feel the gurney being whisked and into an elevator, going up to the CT room.

Being in the big machine and hearing the slight “ZZZ” sound felt like the first time of peace since my brain fully woke up. For a few hours now I was being poked and prodded, not even getting a chance to hear my own thoughts. This was the only time I got to really savor whatever life I had left, to really hear and feel the people I love around me, and to prepare for what could happen. It felt inevitable to try and escape death, it was a part of my job. And the one regret I’d have is not being the real me with the person I loved most in this world. That tall, pretty, incredible genius was the love of my life for the past 3 years I’ve been with the BAU, and he was everything and more I could’ve ever dreamed of and better. I could physically feel my heart aching at the way his voice cracked yelling for me. I wished nothing more than to look him straight in the eye and hold his hands, telling him I’ll be okay. The way he stuttered when he said friend, so unsure. We had kissed just a few days ago, after a long day of work he came by my hotel room and finally expressed his feelings after so long. The fireworks we shared were something out of a book. The way his hands fit around my face, holding me so close and so softly as if I were glass and he was afraid to break it. We hadn’t talked about it since, but we figured we had more time. But now I realize time is never guaranteed.

Within 30 minutes I was in a regular room, the plastics man working on sowing back up my wounds. “You, Ms.Y/N are one of the luckiest gunshot victims I’ve seen; no severe tears. Which means this just needs a quick stitch and you’ll be all set.” He said softly to me, I could feel a smile on his face as he spoke.

I heard another person walk into the room, footsteps almost so quiet.

“H-How, how is she Dr.?” He was shaking.

“The CT showed some swelling but no internal bleeding. We’re going to keep her here overnight but I’m sorry, I don’t know if and when she’ll wake up. That’s all up to her.” The women sadly spoke, unsure of even her own diagnosis.

I heard Spencer start to cry again, a loud puff coming from deep in his chest.

“Dr. Reid, could you please sit with me.” The two of them stepped to sit in the 2 seats next to my bed.

“I know what it feels like to be in a field of study where, you know everything there is to know. And I also know what it feels like to be completely out of control in that field, when you know what to do, but you can’t even do it.” She sighed. “I am one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, I know almost everything...but yet I had a brother who died of a brain injury. I could’ve been there to help him but I couldn’t do a damn thing. I know what this feels like.” Reid started crying harder, his cries muffled by his own hands. He was trying so hard not to let the sounds leak from the room, but it did and it made my bones stand still.

“I had a mentor who was in a coma, and even though I’m in plastics”- (told y’all) -”there was still nothing I could do for him. We just had to wait. He was one of my greatest friends, one of the best people you’d ever meet, so loved. The love of his life died in front of his eyes and I think most of us knew he’d be going next, to be with her. Life was too painful without her. Do you love this girl right here?” Spencers respond came almost immediately.

“More than anybody or anything.”

“Then wait, just a little longer. If she loves you like you love her she’s going to fight to wake up and be alive.” Both of the doctors walked out, leaving me and my lover boy.

His veiny hands grabbed onto mine, rubbing softly at my knuckles.

“I’m gonna do what he said, just wait a little longer. But please Y/N, if you can hear me, come back to me.” He cried into my hand, the tears coating it.

As if the Gods granted it themselves, I moved my eyelids open. Very slowly, and it hurt to do so, but they opened. Spencer sensed movement, and his head instantly came up holding on tighter to my hand. A weak smile placed on my face as my tired eyes loving locked with his.

“Waiting for me?”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine

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neo-crimson-palace · 3 years

Note

Is it true that Junko raped you Makoto because she thought it would give her 'despair'? How did that work out?

Makoto looked up from the video game that Chihiro designed and pointed to the girl in question.

Laid sprawled out on the ruined bed, covered head to toe and filled with a swollen belly full of cum was none other than Junko Enoshima. The Ultimate Despair Fashionista was currently unconscious, the mere sound of her breathing being the only thing that could show she was still with us. After her attempt at trying to get the boy to submit, all the seductive blonde received for her actions was a massive cock being rammed down her throat, pussy, and ass. With the Lucky Boy treating her like a worthless cocksleeve just waiting to be filled. But the time he had been finished, the blonde’s mind had shattered, leaving nothing but a drooling whore with her blue eyes rolled up into her head. It had been a good hour since she had been rendered to that pitiful state, and her holes was still oozing out the thick amount of spunk Makoto filled her up with. All in all, this mission had been a complete failure.

. . . Or success depending on how one would look at it.

#DanganRonpa Smut #Makoto Naegi #Junko Enoshima #Ask Prompt

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

#harry styles smut #anon request #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry angst #dom harry #harry styles vampire smut #vamp!h #vampire harry

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cathrrrine · 3 years

Text

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 15 - GHOST

----

[2009.]

Cold, unforgiving metal met the tender skin of my arm as I blocked his punch. That's going to leave a bruise. His blows were getting stronger, faster. He was testing my skills, they wanted to see how far I could be pushed. Although I wasn't far from the edge, I wasn't going to let myself fail today either.

"Focus!" He yelled.

I grimaced, ducking under his arm and landing a punch to his gut. Rookie move, but it was all I had at that moment. He grabbed my arm, quick as lightning, and dragged me by the chin so he could look me in the eye. My fists were still clenched but the exhaustion was starting to take a toll on me. I panted heavily as I tried to mask how drained I was.

With my arm still in his grasp, he said, "Who are you fighting for?"

It was almost a mantra that I was forced to reiterate every single time I fucked up. "Hydra."

He said it again, louder this time, his grip on my hand growing tighter. He could break my wrist if I didn't deliver. Hell, he could break every single limb I had. I couldn't fail.

"Hydra!" I scoffed. I belonged to them. I had to die for them. Hydra ran through my blood, and if it was ever spilled one day, it would be justified in their name.

That's what they told me.

Who was I to question them? I was nothing but a vessel, a weapon for these people. If I failed to deliver what was asked of me, I'd be killed. How ironic was that? To kill or be killed.

I hated it.

As soon as he let my arm go, I thrusted the top of my head into his face. I heard what sounded like his nose breaking and true enough, as I regained my balance and faced him, I found him wiping blood from his nose with the heel of his hand. It was satisfying, to say the least, to see that I finally made a dent.

"Perfect." He nodded.

God, it wasn't over yet.

He pulled his knives out of the holsters he wore, spinning them in the air and catching them both flawlessly. It was his signature trick. Honestly, I thought it was a bit too dramatic. But what can I say? Hydra loves their drama.

"Pay attention." He pointed the tip of the knife towards me. "Or you'll bleed."

He pounced, spinning his knives like they were toys and not murder weapons. He thrusted his right knife in the vague direction of my shoulder, I took a half-step back and circled around so I was behind him. It only took a second for him to whip around again, but I expected that move. So, I threw my leg up as soon as he did and I kicked the weapon out of his grip.

The knife spun around threateningly in the air before falling onto the concrete across the room with a thump. He didn't seem to pay any mind to his fallen weapon. That's when I remembered he had another. He twirled it around his fingers before gripping the handle and thrusting his right arm with full force, the gears of his metal arm whirring as he did so.

I thought I had it. I jumped back so he wouldn't catch my rib, but he was quick to calculate my movements. I should have known.

The pain was searing.

Blood oozed out of the newly-made wound on my calf, the knife buried to the hilt. I screamed uncontrollably as the pain of it kicked in, my body going limp immediately.

"That's enough, soldat."

Tears were falling down my face against my will. You know how sometimes your body does things you don't want it to do? I know, logically, tears were just how your body reacted to certain things. For example, being stabbed in the goddamn calf. But I knew, despite literal fucking science, the people around me took it as a sign of weakness. That's how messed up in the head they are.

But I wasn't weak. I just got through 2 hours of intensive training with the Winter Soldier while they just watched.

I'd like to see the lot of you fight him and manage to not get killed.

One of the medics went over to my side and helped me up. The Winter Soldier stepped aside and watched me with disdainful eyes. I knew I disappointed him. That alone could have fucked up my assessment. How did I not see it coming? How did I miscalculate that movement?

The Commander leaned in to talk to him as he watched me limp away. I made eye contact with both of them. The Commander's lips were moving but I couldn't make out a word of what he was saying.

Through pain-ridden eyes and a half-delirious mind, I could almost make sense of what the conversation was about.

Girl...Mission...Out...Threat.

Next thing I know, I was being treated by Dr. Nolan in the Medical Room. I don't think I processed anything yet. My brain felt numb. My eyes were glued to the knife — now on a metal tray — that I failed to dodge.

My mind flickered through all the different scenarios that I could have went with. I was beyond frustrated with myself and with my complete and utter failure. What were they going to do with me now? They couldn't really kill me...could they?

My mind reeled back to the conversation I saw that the Soldier and the Commander had earlier. What were they talking about? Did they finally decide what to do with me? The defective agent?

I wasn't perfect. I tried to be, but I wasn't. Somehow I always found myself disagreeing with their rules and their missions, even if I carried them out anyway. Although, sometimes I couldn't help but protest. I had to. Even if the consequences would hurt me. If they knew that I'd gone against more than just a few of their regulations, there's no doubt I'd be dead within the minute.

Footsteps came through the corridor, yet I didn't even think to look up.

"Your mission." The familiar faded black of a case file was thrown into my lap carelessly, the papers crinkling in protest as it landed. I looked up to see an annoyed expression that was attached to the face of one of the high-ranking agents.

"Mission? I thought I failed the assessment." My thumbs flicked through the papers almost automatically, scanning through the details quickly. I didn't miss the red stamp on the front. This wasn't just any mission.

He–David, I think–shrugged, "The Commander asked me to hand this to you. You're leaving in an hour."

"What?"

I was...thrilled and appalled at the same time. The whole point of the assessment was for them to see that I was worthy enough to be placed on important missions like these. If they trusted me with it, that means I succeeded.

"In an hour?" Dr. Nolan chipped in. "She hasn't fully recovered from her stab wound yet. You need at least two to three weeks of rest."

The red star-shaped stamp looked even more brighter in that moment, even if the room was poorly lit. "I've had worse. I can survive a limp."

"You won't even be able to walk." He raised an eyebrow at me in disagreement. Somewhere deep down, I knew I should listen to him. I wasn't in the best shape for a fight, let alone a mission like this one.

David huffed, "Orders are orders."

Then my brain clicked back into place. David was right. I nodded once. "I'll be at the hangar in 30 minutes."

"You better gear up by then. They wont wait up for you."

Dr. Nolan sighed and shook his head before wrapping my leg up with bandage. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

———

Snow was blowing in my face. The cold seeped through my coat, prickling my skin like tiny little needles made of ice.

"Any minute now." He spoke through the earpiece.

We were supposed to ambush a S.H.I.E.L.D operation that was a threat to Hydra. I wasn't entirely sure why I was sent along with the Winter Soldier, but I wasn't in the place to argue. Not when I just barely survived the assessment.

"Get in position." I crouched down, trying to smother a whimper that threatened to escape my throat. My calf was burning, but that wasn't a priority right now. Everything was always burning somehow, and I learned to ignore it overtime. I scanned the area through the scope of my sniper rifle. As soon as a car came into view, I steadied my hand on the trigger.

"Now."

Four continuous shots for each tire. Every single one blew out and the car spun out of control, spinning from left to right. It was a narrow road, the plan was bound to work to our liking. After a few nasty turns, the car swerved off the cliff, leaving nothing but dust and debris in it's place.

"They're not dead yet. Keep an eye out."

It was quicker than I expected, but I spotted two figures climbing out of the wreck after a while. Their movements were slow and staggered, but alive nonetheless.

"Target acquired."

I watched through the scope as he stepped out of his position in the shadows. One of the figures moved in front of the other, shielding them with their own body. I knew it was useless. He'd kill them both anyway.

A single shot rang out. I could picture the bullet going through one body to the other. They both dropped to the ground, dead.

"Target eliminated."

"Roger."

He didn't say a word. I didn't hear the usual rustle of his movements through the earpiece. Silence engulfed me. Usually, I wouldn't be so unnerved. He was always silent. But this time it felt...strange. I stayed where I was, unmoving. Something in my head told me I shouldn't move, shouldn't speak.

It seemed too easy.

I don't know what it was, but I didn't take my eyes off him. Something about this whole thing seemed...off. He could have completed this mission alone.

Why did they ask me to go with him?

He turned away from the bodies and faced me. I gulped, hands trembling as I held my rifle reluctantly. What was he doing?

"Sir?" I managed to say. Everything was telling me to RUN. NOW.

Slowly, he raised his gun and pointed it towards me.

Girl...Mission...Out...Threat.

My whole body trembled at the sight before me.

"Take the girl on your next mission. I need you to take her out. She's a threat to us, soldier. She's defective. Eliminate her. "

I was right.

Bang! The sound of a gunshot snapped me back to reality. It was real. They wanted to kill me. The Winter Soldier was standing ten feet away from me with a gun in his hand, ready to kill. To eliminate the threat.

Out of reflex, I pulled the trigger of my rifle that was pointed to his head, only to find it empty.

Four bullets. They only gave me four bullets and nothing more.

Without thinking, I ran. I dropped the rifle and ran as fast as my legs could take me. I heard another gunshot, closer this time. That's when I started to feel a strange sort of stinging at the back of my leg. The pressure felt strenuous as I continued to sprint in the snow.

Oh, God...Dr. Nolan was right.

I could feel the pain taking over once more as my stitches started to pop. Warm, thick liquid ran down my leg and seeped through the pants of my uniform as the wound on my calf bled out. Between the stinging cold and the stinging pain, I was starting to feel hopeless. I couldn't possibly go against him.

Bang!

Closer this time. I was running blindly into a vast, wide-open landscape of infinite snow. Not only that, but I was also leaving behind a trail of blood behind me. Deep scarlet upon stark white. What a contrast. Was this Hansel and Gretel or some shit?

"You cannot run forever." His voice was crisp, threatening. I couldn't take the fear that ran cold through me. If I stopped running now, I wouldn't ever get up again. He was the embodiment of fear, and he was chasing me.

I tore off my earpiece and threw it behind me. How could I have been so foolish today? Of course they sent him out here to kill me.

All along I thought I was playing the part perfectly. But, maybe I didn't hide my doubts of Hydra as well as I thought I had. Did they find out about everything I've failed to do?

How could I have killed those innocent children? How could I have murdered that innocent family? Or that innocent man who just so happened to stumble across a Hydra operation?

I was fine with the blood and the gore. I was used to that. The only thing that never sat right with me was when the innocent had to be slaughtered. The first time I went through with it, they haunted my dreams. Their animalistic cries for mercy, their howls of pain...I couldn't live with myself.

They were right. I was defective. I didn't have the makings of a Hydra agent. I wasn't as ruthless as I should be.

I ran and ran, hoping that he was far behind me. The snow was getting thicker by the minute, it was getting harder for me to see and to navigate.

I ran until my aching feet hit the pavement of a road that led to a small village. It looked homely, with houses and shops lined up along the road. Lanterns hung from roof to roof, providing light in the heavy snowfall. If I didn't know any better, I'd try to hide there. But I knew he would only tear it apart and kill everyone on sight just to eliminate me.

Then I sensed footsteps behind me. There was no time to think. It was my only option.

I sneaked through the worn paths of the area, trying my best to lay low. It didn't help that I was sporting a mean limp and bleeding all over the place. People saw me and they avoided me. I started to wonder why I thought heading here would help me. I scanned the area for anything, anything that would help. A weapon, a car, a spot that I could take shelter in...

Then, out of nowhere, I bumped into a woman.

"Oh!"

I held onto her arms as I tried to keep us both from falling. The woman was wearing a niqab. Her piercing green eyes looked right at me, distracting me from my original plan for a moment.

"Are you alright?" She asked, gently.

I must have looked horrible. Sweaty and bloody with panicked eyes. I didn't notice that her arms were still locked on mine, keeping me upright.

That's when I felt it, the surge of energy suddenly coursing through me. It was a peculiar sensation, but I welcomed it. Her green eyes widened. I knew she felt it too.

"You're-" she gasped, trying to pull away from me. I held onto her tighter, not wanting to let go just yet.

"Please." I begged. "It won't hurt."

I had to go before he came.

I heard gunshots behind me. I couldn't let him get to me, not when I just found the key to my escape.

"Who are you?" The woman whispered, struggling against me.

"Someone you’ll help escape death." I looked into her eyes, trying to let her see how desperate I was. I didn't want to take anything else from her but this.

Her eyes jumped from mine to behind me, before flickering back to look at me again. "You're like me, aren't you?"

"You don't need to do anything." I assured her. "I just need to leave."

It took a second of hesitation for her, but slowly, she nodded. She opened her mouth to say something, but I never heard what it was. Because that's when the screaming erupted.

I closed my eyes and teleported myself the fuck out of there.

#run pietro x reader #enemies to lovers #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #avengers reader insert #marvel reader insert #mcu #mcu x reader #pietro x y/n #the winter soldier #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #james barnes #hydra mcu #winter soldier x reader

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fusrodie · 3 years

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

chapter 1 - grisly reunions

SFW, canon-typical violence, blood, mention of death. 2K words.

link to ao3 (or read down below)

Nothing ever happened in this boring old village. Every day he would wake up to the same dull sky, the biting cold on his skin, the smell of blood in the air. And the chanting, for fuck’s sake, the goddamn chanting. In the silence of night, you could hear them if you listened close enough. Even cooped up in his factory, trying to focus on bringing his latest creation to life, through the humming of engines and rattling of pistons, he could hear their voices pleading forgiveness and salvation.

It paints a perfect picture in his mind: a bunch of old farts holding hands in a circle, standing over a creepy-ass painted crest of an unborn baby, pouring their heart and soul into their prayer, accepting death and giving glory to their murderer. The prayer itself never made sense to him, not really, but he had to admit it was a damn good way of justifying their atrocities. Nobody batted an eyelash when someone was taken away, went poof overnight to never return. Something about the sacrifice having been made, fate had led them to the light at the end or some shit. It used to fascinate him back in the day, when he was just a child watching everything unfold hidden behind his mother’s skirt. But he was no longer a child, and after almost a century of bullshit, it was hard not to impale every single fucker who talked about devotion and destiny.

Not that anyone would care about it, of course - sister dearest routinely kidnapped girls from the village and no one seemed to notice the Castle was a death trap. Boxes and boxes of wine would make their way into the village and out into the world, the truth right there in the label, and no one seemed to put two and two together. Dimitrescu had offered him more than a few bottles as a courtesy, an attempt to bridge the gap between them - even he had limits, however, lines that he would not cross. The very thought of bringing a goblet of blood-infused wine to his lips made his stomach turn; he had never been one to experiment much with food. He drew the line on frozen pizza and energy drinks.

It’s a wonder the village still had people in it, really; between Alcina’s obsession with maidens, the poor sods taken to Moreau for Cadou experiments and the failed vessels Miranda would discard like common garbage, he figured at this point there were more lycans than people around. More for him to experiment on, he figured, though digging up corpses in the dead of night had done a number on his back. Haulers could only do so much, and more often than not he would have to get his hands dirty. Not having a proper bed, sleeping on a bare metal cot and decades of living on borrowed time had nothing to do with it, of course.

The Castle drawbridge lowered as he approached, hammer thrown over his shoulder, one last peaceful drag of his cigar before he was thrown into yet another boring council meeting. The vineyard greeted him with the bleak vibrancy of a cemetery, scarecrows drained of color, barely recognizable but eerily preserved in chunks of ice. A waste of perfectly good specimens, really.

The halls were quiet for a change, no tormented screams and blood-curling wails, no giggling sisters running around in the hallways. It all smelled of death and old people, expensive perfume and a good dose of arrogance.

He flashed a charming smile at one of the Castle’s servants, laughing when the girl turned a bright shade of red and scrambled away from him. Heisenberg could hear the bickering as he pushed the doors open, Angie’s joints clicking incessantly as the doll moved about. Moreau’s breathing sounded as loud and disgusting as ever, yellow teeth and the smell of a polluted riverbed with a hint of fish. There they were, his beloved little family, waiting patiently for him, staring at him like he had fucked every single one of their mothers.

“You are late, Heisenberg.” Alcina began, as she always did, eyebrow raised in contempt. “As always. Mother,” she turned to Miranda, gesturing towards him with her hoity-toity, stupid cigarette.

“You are obnoxious, Dimitrescu.” He replied without sparing her a glance. “As always.”

He could practically hear her seething as she finally placed her humongous backside on her chair, having given up on chastising him when Miranda paid both of them no mind. Mother sat at the end of the golden-trimmed table, looking awkward in her great black gown and modly crow wings. Dimitrescu’s finest china was laid perfectly for their little afternoon tea party, cup handles that were too big to fit his fingers, minuscule spoons that were fit for Angie’s creepy hands. The servant that had scurried away at the sight of him had come back with a tray of hot tea, biscuits and blood - the house’s specialty. Miranda began speaking as the girl poured her drink, some small chitchat about the state of the village, the influx of foreigners and progress on her grand resuscitation project.

“Thank you darling, but I brought my own.” He started as the girl circled around the table to serve him, pointing down towards his belt buckle to the whiskey flask he always carried around. She couldn’t help but look down, and then up at his sly smile, the blush returning to her cheeks in full force. Dimitrescu’s reaction was swift, a well placed slap with the back of her hand square on the girl’s cheek. He felt sorry for her for a moment, but it was good training - if she wanted to survive the Castle, she would have to learn that it was better to be blind and deaf, and that she had much more provocation coming her way than his harmless flirting.

Heisenberg tuned out of the conversation as he poured his whiskey, pinching the teaspoon between his index and middle fingers, swirling it slowly, scraping the sides of the porcelain. Alcina’s displeasure at his use of her china for such vile beverages made it all the better. He slurped it loudly to add insult to injury, savoring the drink for a second, sloshing it around his mouth before swallowing, a satisfied “ah” escaping him when the liquor burned down his throat. If Alcina didn’t already look like a corpse, he felt like she would have turned purple. When he unceremoniously shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, crumbs falling all over the tablecloth, he thought she would vomit.

“The latest vessel, unfortunately, has been a failure.” Miranda announced with sadness in her voice, which prompted all of his other siblings to sigh collectively in sympathy. What a bunch of morons. “However, we have made some progress. It seems my theories were correct - younger subjects are far more receptive to the Cadou.” Kidnap babies, got it. There was no limit to how low Miranda would get to fuel her quest for a daughter that had been dead for longer than she was alive. “I regret to say there are no suitable infants at the moment,” she stopped to sip at her tea. “We can only hope the harvest fares better in the coming months.” Had she seen them as nothing but guinea pigs back then, too? No doubt in his mind she did. The only reason she kept them around is because she might not be able to kill all of the monsters she created - better to keep them close than risking losing it all.

“There is but one more matter I would like to discuss, Mother Miranda,” Dimitrescu began, a lilt in her voice, the telltale sign that whatever would come out of her mouth next would be positively foul. “My girls have brought me troubling news.” Troubling, he repeated to himself, but she had a smile on her face as she said it. Miranda gestured at her to continue, which she gladly did, excitement rising with every new word. “It would seem a monster prowls near our blessed haven. There is talk among the villagers of bodies being found drained of blood, organs harvested, but without a single cut left behind.” She stood up to pace the room, one of her favorite displays of grandiose that made her look like the world’s biggest buffoon. It suited her. “At first I believed this to be a mere rumor, a lycan attacking the livestock, a corpse refusing to rest. But then,” she clapped her hands, the doors to the room promptly opening to give way to Crazy, Dumb and Ugly, giggling in their flowing black dresses, dragging a corpse along like it was a treasure they had found in the forest. Angie tagged along with their excitement, pushing Moreau away to get a better look at the stinking body thrown onto the hardwood.

There was no mistaking the lycan, all teeth, claws and complexion of the finest of silver poisonings. It smelled just as bad dead than it did alive; bruises and injuries and gums that stuck out of its mouth. How, pray tell, was this thing still in one piece? Heisenberg rose to take a closer look, pushed its stringy hair away from its face to reveal glassy eyes poking weirdly out of their sockets. He tested its consistency with a slight kick, stabbed it with the butter spreader, shoved a gloved hand in the cut to pull it apart and open. It looked fresh enough, but nothing but a foul vapor oozed out of the body. Crystal dust lined its insides, shards poking out of muscles. He pushes his arm deeper, feels around the chest cavity to find nothing.

“No cuts, no holes,” he begins as he pokes and prods. “No bites, either. Heart’s missing. This your handiwork, Alcina?” Heisenberg quips, suspicion seeping through his stoic facade. For a moment, he swears he can see the lycan’s flesh pulse, the smallest contraction of a muscle. This whole situation got weirder by the second.

“The technique is truly admirable, is it not?” She offers with a gleeful smile, picks up her cigarette and places a hand on her hip. Here we go again. “I simply must have it. Besides, we must know if it poses any threat to us.” She was right, this time. After decades of experimentation, none of them had ever managed to keep an infected subject whole after death.

His shoulders slumped as she spoke, head bowing to hide his discontentment behind the brim of his hat. He knew what this meant: being sent on a stupid adventure in the ass-end of the woods, because he was the only one out of this freak show with the brain and brawn to venture out into the world in broad daylight, without dying to the cold or stopping every five seconds to infect and pet wild animals. Some of these missions he did enjoy, like being sent to nearby towns for special supplies - or special victims. He was never gone long, nor would he stray far, but those escapades never failed to serve as a reminder that he had a reason to keep going, that maybe one day he would be free and the world would be his to explore.

The four of them eyed Miranda quietly, waiting for the verdict that was certain to come. Moreau cut the silence by volunteering to investigate, the pathetic pitter-pat of his feet filling the room when Mother smiled at him.

“I would not risk you in such a way, my son,” she patted his head without a hint of affection. “Not when we are so close to answers. You must continue your research - Heisenberg will look into this… Whatever it is. You are dismissed.” Her tone was nonchalant, her confidence rock solid. This was merely an obstacle, not real danger. At least, that is what she wanted them all to see; if one looked close enough, they would notice the slight furrow in her brow through the slits of the golden mask.

“As you wish, mother.” He tipped his hat before taking his leave, chewing on his unlit cigar, feet pressing hard against the gravel underneath.

Heisenberg never thought he would come to regret having a proper spine and a functional pair of legs.

#resident evil village #re8 #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #technically #virgil writes #blood tw #death tw

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