#I am. on the brink of consciousness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heizours · 4 months

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COLLAPSING CONSCIOUSNESS

summary. when you faint in the middle of an argument with them (requested)

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. reader passes out, signs of fainting beforehand, call signs of endearmeant, there are parts where they think that the reader won’t wake up again out of panic, angsty in the beginning

feat. heizou, ayato, xiao

note: i have a history about fainting but i can't tell if what i wrote was accurate enough but, pls lmk if there's something that i should change especially in the warnings.

HEIZOU.

First off, what was the cause of the argument? I don't think big fights would occur between you and him, you see Heizou is a rational thinker and whatever dispute there will be between the two of you — he is willing to solve it right away. He hates it when the both of you are not in good terms.

How would he react if you fainted? Heizou would be frozen at first, but once his senses reach him, he reacts to it immediately once he sees you in an unconscious state or you're just about to fall unconscious.

He is a great detective that is level headed even in the brink of danger but when it comes to you, all those greatness disappears because you're the only one who can make him this vulnerable.

"And I came back, all in one piece aren't I? [Name], what's all got you so worked up over this plain case?" Heizou's tone remained stern, as he tried to keep this little dispute under good wraps.

However the problem here is, he isn't getting your point of view. He is talking about how easy this case was, while here you were at you're wits end after gathering information that this case he claimed to be easy, is very dangerous to the point it can costs his life if he wasn't careful enough in the first place.

To add more gasoline to the fire, he had gotten an injury from it and tried to also hide it from your prying eyes which just increased your disappointment in him.

“You’re simply not getting it, I am getting worked up because if you weren’t careful enough, you could have killed yourself. Speaking of coming back in ‘one piece’, how about that injury you had taken from it huh?” You backfired, as the temperature in the room continues to rise between the two of you.

You could feel the continuous pulse in your head and the sudden need to go to the bathroom as the a tense feeling climbs up your throat, yet you paid no attention to it, thinking it’s nothing more than that.

But, you were very wrong about it. As the argument escalates further, so does your need to breathe and get much air as possible, continues to increase rapidly as well.

Sick of simply hearing his repeated explanation, you decided to stand up from the chair you were seating, finding a pace to cool off and avoiding the path where you could possibly lash out on him.

Unexpectedly, you find yourself standing steadily on the floor for a moment as the noises around started to gradually fade away.

There is this feeling from within you that you need some air or you want to puke, you tried to remain unaffected, ignoring the concern look Heizou was giving you after stopping in place.

It didn't stop there- your sense of hearing was starting to get fuzzy almost turning you deaf as Heizou’s words were beginning to be incoherent in your part.

You could feel the air inside your body being sucked out, like you're losing the oxygen that you need, and black spots began clouding your vision, not before the world before you was spinning.

You heard someone shouting and shaking you vigorously, and with all your might you tried to respond back yet nothing came out, as your mouth remained open without saying anything.

Your body was starting to lose it's balance as it started to fall carelessly, and the last thing you felt before losing yourself was a gentle yet firm hand wrapped around you.

---

Frozen.

That’s what Heizou had felt when you fell right into his arms.

Looking back at what happened when you’re already laid out in his arms, he could still clearly remember how his eyes widened in fear, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were scattered all around the place, as all he could think about is to get you urgent help, but at the same time he doesn’t want to leave you by yourself.

He remembers it all too well, how he finds himself trembling slightly, frozen in place and filled with deep regret by his unthinkable actions.

You were just looking out for his safety, like he have always did back at you, yet when you’re the one who reprimanded him to be careful, all he did was caused you further harm. You didn’t want to let him know the uneasiness you were feeling, and that what greatly fears him the most.

What if you never wake up again?

---

As you fluttered your eyes open, you were met by a ceiling, as you process what just happened not too long ago - Heizou, who was sitting right beside you caught wind of your consciousness and sat right up.

"..[Name]? Can you hear me?" He spoked with such tone that you could feel that a part of his voice cracked out of nervousness and worriedness because of how he was fidgeting in his seat.

You turned your head at his direction, silently observing him - he seemed to be in such a distress by how he looked. As you tried to sit up from the bed you were resting on, Heizou didn’t waste a millisecond of helping you be comfortable in the position you wanted.

"W-what happened?"

You stuttered out, while still feeling a little drowsy from the incident.

"...You f-fainted, it happened right in front of me while we were having a misunderstanding. Before you could fall on the ground, I made it near you as soon as I can so that the fall wouldn't be worse than what I am imagining." Heizou started, as he began to fidget once again and bit his lip to prevent the tears that are threatening to come out.

"Y-you were unresponsive [Name], I was trying to shake you, to get something out from you, anything to let me know that you're still there, my cries of help was heard by the General Gorou, he and his comrades calmed and distract me down while a healer was called upon by the Young Priestess."

He continued.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I made you feel this way my love. If - I wasn't so stubborn to listen to your concerns, maybe this could have been avoided. What I did, was horrible - I shouldn't have been angry about what you said, I had let my words get the best of me during the heat of the moment, I'm sorry."

He finished, averting his eyes away from you out of shame.

As soon as you heard his side of the story, you leaned forward to cup his cheek into your hand, turning him to face you. Despite the tiredness, you let out a grim yet genuine smile along his way, as if to assure him that you too are sorry.

"Oh my love, hush now - I'm alive and still breathing here and right in front of you, see? Do not take all the blame by yourself, as I have a fault too. I'm sorry for lashing out on you like that, when all you did was doing as you're told to, and for making you worried as well. We we're both in the wrong." You replied

Heizou grabbed the hand that was cupping his cheek, snuggled into it before giving a long peck on it before turning to look at you.

"I'm so glad you're alright, I really am. My heart, it always beats for your name, it calls your name and you have no idea how it dropped in a heartbeat like how you dropped in my arms."

He leaned in for a peck on your forehead, before grabbing your face gently into his hands, as if he was holding the whole world.

"You, you are the very essence of my existence"

Heizou finished.

All the tension, fear, anxiousness and pent up emotions that he was holding while you were resting unconsciously was now free, away from it’s cage. The detective couldn't help but to smile at you, that is so full of love and care.

"Now, it's time for you to rest easy again my love. I suppose we won’t be stubborn for the meantime, aren’t we?"

He affirmed while hinting you with a joke at the end of his reminder about your stubbornness, that he also sometimes has.

You couldn’t help but laugh in response, before nodding.

All is well now, and the both of you couldn’t ask for more. What makes the moment more significant, is that you both knew.

AYATO.

Arguments doesn’t occur often as well when you’re in an established relationship with the Kamisato Head, but if minor disputes were to emerge between the two of you, he would like to cool things off like giving you space and him some space to sort things out.

How would he react if you fainted while the both of you are in the middle quarrel? He would immediately set aside whatever the both of you are fighting about, and he’ll be catching you the moment that his instinct tells him so that you’re not feeling well.

He tries to be calm, but his strained voice tells another story. When threat comes close to you that is too much for his comfort, his serene image falls into shambles.

“I don’t know when will I come back, but if the night is already falling late, please do not wait for me anymore, darling.” Ayato announced, still busy on his table

Recently, Ayato has been trapping his self inside his office and has been going on for a while now, much to Ayaka’s concern. At first, you didn’t tried to intervene with it even though you’re worried, since you knew how much your significant other cares about the well-being of the common people.

But, judging by how much he is being selfless to the point where he is not even properly taking care of himself, you decided to step in and pay him a visit with a tray of tea in your hand. You started off with a conversation and then brought up the idea of him taking a break, by drinking the tea you had visited him along with, and as usual - what he had said earlier was his response to your offer.

The situation isn’t getting any better, especially that you have sensed that you’re not feeling like yourself as well. Despite that, you pushed away what you’re feeling at the moment, and chose to persuade Ayato to rest instead.

“Then, can you at least drink the tea I have prepared for you? I’m worried, Ayaka’s worried, we’re all worried about you.” I expressed ignoring the lightheaded feeling that is coming from within me.

“[Name], as much as I would rather do it, I can’t have this documents hanging around. You know that right? Please leave me be while I am still having the patience to do so.” Ayato argued back, his voice trying to sound calm and gentle as possible yet it sounded disapproving.

This time, what you were feeling that you dismissed not too long ago, somehow become worst. In fear that you’ll add more to Ayato’s pent up stress, you just silently agreed and gave up the fight, deciding to take the rest and you’ll try again tomorrow.

Turning your back on him, your body suddenly felt the need to fall - your vision began spotting black and white forces as if it’s forcing you to close your eyes, then came in an annoying yet blurred ring in your ears.

It doesn’t stop there, you could feel your head hanging low, you’re body was rapidly falling and you have nothing to lean on to.

Before you can even entirely fall, Ayato grabbed you by the waist preventing you from the incoming impact. By the time he sat down with you on the floor, you were already unconscious.

Ayato turned your body around so you’re facing him, tapped your cheek multiple times, and shook you gently awake, but to no avail, you remain unresponsive.

---

Guilty.

That’s what Ayato felt, looking from the situation you were in right now.

Not once did he left your side the moment you fell senseless in his arms, no he didn’t want to take the chance - and instead shouted with all his might, that he has never done before, to get you instant help.

And he still hasn’t left you alone, as you were laid down on a futon that you’re resting upon. For once in a blue moon, Kamisato Ayato was scared of even leaving you out of his sight.

It creeps upon him, that all you did was cared and understand him as a busy man, all you asked for once is for him to take a rest even though you should also be doing that to yourself, but no - you putted him first before your well being, and that what makes him feel that he should be accountable for what happened to you.

---

The first thing your eyes laid upon was Ayato, who continued to seat in deep silence, not until when he looked at the slight sound that was caught up by his ears, as he let out quiet gasp of surprise and relief.

As you fidget to sit up from the futon, Ayato took action and gently helped you sit right up. When you finally settled down, he continued to stare at you in silence, but his eyes tells a different story.

They softened at the sight of you, but despite that they were also letting you know how much ache, and ashamed do they feel from putting you in this kind of state.

“...You’re alright, I’m glad.” Ayato whispered, the relief relevant at the tone of his voice, yet you could also that there’s a part in him that just wants to burst out in tears, seeing that you’re still here in front of him, alive and breathing once again.

You looked at him tenderly, as you reached out to grab his hand and squeezed it tenderly and gently, to affirm him that all is alright.

That was the breaking point.

It was Ayato’s last straw, as the tears he was trying to push away to put up his casual facade finally began to stream silently. He brought your hand near his lips, as he pecked it gently and held your hand closer to his face, rubbing it on his cheek, as if holding your hand was his lifeline.

“..I’m sorry, I truly am. I’m sorry for denying your care, I’m sorry for denying your concern and worries, I’m sorry that I made you feel this way. It was not what I intend to do darling, maybe if I did agree for that cup of tea, this situation would have been prevented, and you could have been able to tell me.”

He expressed, the regret clearly evident in his voice, as he grasped on tightly yet gently to your arm that he brought closer to him, placing a light peck every now and then as if it was an assurance to him that you’re still here right beside him.

You cupped his face by cupping your other hand on the other side of his cheek, as if you were holding the whole world in your hands right now, gesturing him to look at you in the eye. Never once did you look at him with such hatred nor misunderstand, but instead kept up the sentimental look that you always used to.

“We were both in the wrong, I hid how unwell I was feeling because I didn’t want to be a burden to you nor be added as something that can distract you. But what matters the most to me right now, is that all is well, my darling.”

You stated, as a gentle smile made it’s way on your face even though a little bit the drowsy feeling is still present there.

Ayato couldn’t help but smile back, as he let out a big sigh of relief, not before affirming you with such words you couldn’t help but feel giddy about.

“From this day forward, I will save the time to rest from being a workaholic man, and I am expecting that you, are to rest with me as well. Will that be a good negotiation between us, darling?”

Ayato replied with a hint of tease at the end of his sentence, as you nodded while laughing lightly - glad that he seemed to be in good spirits now.

He looked at you with such a tender face, as if you’re the whole purpose of his life, that he couldn’t help but to blurt out such words, it just adds to the evidence that despite being focused on his work in the past few days, all he could think and miss about was you.

“I burn for you, [Name], I’ve always been.”

Ayato whispered lovingly.

Stuck in the midst of the sincere moment, the both of you couldn’t ask for more other than the fact, that the love between the two of you is still burning, and it increased more than ever.

XIAO.

Arguments with Xiao tend to be a little rocky, only in the beginning of your relationship though. He avoids bringing arguments into the relationship but if the argument continues to grow bigger like a raging fire, he wants things to not be as worst as it already is, and would try to sort things out in the best way he thinks it would work.

How would he react if you fainted? Xiao won’t have time to comprehend what is happening, because as soon as he senses that something about you is not right, he would be right by your side in a heartbeat. His priority first is to get you to safety, before he would ask such things.

He can’t find a way to stay put, because even if Xiao can stay level headed at such emergencies, he can’t act the same when you’re the one being directly involved.

“...This isn't working out” Xiao said, breaking the tense silence between the two of you after a brief moment.

The argument wasn’t that bad at first, but as the both of you backfired such words at each other, it had came to the point where it is already big as it is before the both of you could even realize it.

Stuck in the midst of trying to mend again the misunderstanding in each other’s perspective, you forgot the fact that you’re not feeling well at the meantime as well, wanting for this argument to be fixed up first.

Looking back at what he previously said - You freeze in your spot, almost as if a bucket of cold water was dump right at your face. You couldn’t find the right words to respond to it, almost as if you’re questioning if Xiao really thinks about it like that.

Xiao’s back remained turned against you, arms crossed as you were right behind him almost in the dark, if not for the moon illuminating some light across his room in Wangshu Inn.

Your breath becomes shaky, but you remained your ground.

“....Well, do you love me?”

You asked, dodging the question he gave and instead gave him another one taking in slow deep breaths maintaining a good pace in hopes that the ringing in your ears would soon stop.

Xiao stood silent, back still facing you - If only you could see how his eyes widened slightly at the question.

“This isn’t the right time for you to be asking m-”

“Do you love me?”

You asked again, ignoring the sudden light headedness that washed over you, as you tried to plant your feet on the ground. The air was silent for a moment, but something was not right, almost as if something more eventful would happen.

Every millisecond that passes by as you await for his answer, your body starts wobbling on it’s own, as black and white spots began to cloud your vision.

This time, Xiao turned his back on you, but before he could give his answer, he gasp in shock at the state you’re in. Your face was pale, and it seemed that at any minute or even second your body would give up on you.

The high pitched ringing in your ears was more vigorous than ever, and your body screams for you to do something. The blood that flows right through you suddenly drops, as your consciousness leaves you, but before you can fall with a loud thud, a firm grip held you down.

---

Clammy.

Xiao’s hands was clammy from the nervousness and guiltiness sucking him in.

His voice was caught in his throat the moment he caught you, as he tried to speak, to shout for help, anything at all, but all he managed was to inhale a harsh breath, as his grip on your unconscious body tightened.

And at last, for the first time in his life, Xiao shouted for help, he didn’t care who it was, anyone will do, as all he knows is that he can’t lose you right at this moment, not now, not ever.

The tone in his voice still held with the same firmness but if anyone were to listen closer, it was at the verge of cracking from despair, as he tried to gently shook you awake while still calling out for help.

He looked down on you, worried flickering in his eyes as the minutes continued to passed by, while the gut in his stomach continued to dig deeper, it was such a sickening feeling that he thinks he’s about to go crazy.

---

You stirred in the futon, as you slowly gained back your consciousness - eyes darting around the room looking for a certain person, until your eyes landed on him who’s at the balcony, staring off into space outside, as he gripped the wooden railings to ease down his thoughts.

“..Xiao?”

Your voice came out as weak as you’re still recovering especially at a state like that, but Xiao heard it all too well as his eyes snapped open in your direction.

The both of you had a stare off for a moment, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you in just a few strides, as he kneeled down at the side of your futon.

You slowly sat up, as Xiao helped you gently. The both of you still as quiet as ever, that is until you caressed Xiao’s cheek giving him an assuring look.

He let out a shaky sigh of relief, as if the weight in all his body has been now lifted, as he lifted his hand to grasp and caress your hand, leaning further into your touch, as if it was his lifeline.

“..Don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

Xiao whispered, almost too quiet as his voice was on the verge of cracking again - this time not from the despair he felt not too long ago, but because from the comfort and solace provided by your warm touch.

There was a beat drop of silence before the yaksha glances at you once again, still with a heavy heart from the events that took place not too far ago.

"..My life...it revolves around you. You are the reason I breathe, you are the reason I continue to live. Telling you that I love you is an understatement to begin with, because it would not be enough for how much you mean to me."

Your eyes soften as Xiao stated those words with a sincere tone, as he pressed a peck on your wrist, looking at you still as if you are star that hang and brought back the light in his life. It was his own way of apologizing to you.

"We will work this out.."

Xiao continued, nodding at you with affirmation and determination.

"We will"

You repeated with a light yet groggy chuckle, as Xiao pressed a kiss on your forehead this time, before gently placing his hand at the back of your head bringing the both of your foreheads closer to each other.

"Rest, and after that we will talk and fix this out calmly"

He whispered.

No words were spoken after that, but the both of you knew this was enough assurance that in every afterglow, there is a daylight. The both of you will work this out just fine.

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pray4byron · 2 months

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Here I am with the ask!!! I was wondering if I could request headcanons for Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Vox and Lute with how they would be with a sloth like S/o. I saw someone ask this on a blog I follow and I was stoked, I love this concept so much it's so funny I decided it's my favorite. INSANELY sleepy s/o, they sleep ALL the time and still manage to be super sleepy, they'd be walking down the street? They randomly fall asleep while walking, needless to say that's very dangerous in hell. In heaven a bit less, but let's say falling asleep while flying is definetely dangerous too. They're talking to someone? They might be trying to pay attention but still can't help help falling asleep, characters like Adam and Luci would definetely have no problem with that tho. They are incredibly slow, and also have the sloth tendency to climb(for the tall ones) and cling to said partner and hang onto them like ragdolls. They can stay awake if they replenish the energy they use immediately or by being monitored, but they're very concerning. I imagine warm milk would probably knock them out cold, coffee probably does little to nothing, maybe a huge amount would keep them on the brink of consciousness lol. (Sorry this got long, that's how much I find this concept hilarious, you don't actually have to include all everything I said if you don't wanna I was just rambling)

heyy again!! this is so cute and honestly i’m fangirling at the ideas i have for this haha, enjoy!!

Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Lute, and Vox x Sloth!Reader

Adam

There’s a solid chance he makes fun of you for your sleepy antics, but only he can do that, no one else!

Unlike Hell, if you fall asleep on the side of the road in Heaven, he’ll just toss ya over his shoulder like nothing happened

Honestly, Adam is pretty tall, and he’s got a bit of muscle under his fit, so he doesn’t mind a bit if you climb about him and all that

Alastor

Honestly, Alastor doesn’t mind your sleepy antics, it gives him an opportunity to get whatever he needs done for that time until you awake again

Although, he probably won’t let you climb him though, due to his dislike of physical touch, but dw he’ll let you cling to him a bit

If you start to daze off while he’s talking he won’t mind, his smile will soften, and he’ll tug you to his chest, talking you to sleep

Lucifer

You guys don’t go out much, so it’s not often you fall asleep on the streets, but if you do, he’ll pick you up bridal style, he won’t make a big fuss about it, at least until you get home

Like Alastor, if you fall asleep mid convo, he won’t mind, he’ll just bring you to his chest and talk you to sleep

Although he is on the shorter side, if you wanna climb him, he’ll certainly let you! He thinks it’s the cutest thing!

Lute

Honestly, Lute hates it when you sleep a lot, as because of her job, she’s busy most of the time and can’t see you, so when she does see you, and you’re asleep, it’s eh…

If you climb on her, she’ll tense up a bit, but she won’t deny it, but there’s a chance she will the first few times. Affection is new to her.

Vox

He’s another tall one, so you could climb on him, but he’s a bit of a twig tbh, so he might not be able to hold you 😭

If you fall asleep during conversation, he’ll be all pissy, but if you fall asleep ON him, bro glitches so bad

Tried to make sure you don’t fall alseep on the streets in the first place, but if you do, bitch is waking you up, ain’t no way he’s carrying you

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myosotisa · 1 year

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i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it.

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #vampire!Eddie munson #kas!eddie munson #myo4munson

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puckarchives · 3 months

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sweet girl / take a break: q. hughes

blurb: in which quinn takes care of you when you need it most — this was originally an ask i wrote for @sweetestdesire and i am not finally reposting! / word count: 1.4k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader (WARNING: mentions of anxiety, anxiet attack, mental health.)

When you and Quinn had first begun seeing each other, a commitment that you joked “crossed international borders” because of the different sides of the border you were both on, you had made one thing particularly clear: school was something you took extremely seriously, and something you weren’t willing to compromise. Quinn, however, understood perfectly; he understood your want to be the best, to excel in everything, and to break your own records— in other words, you two were perfect for each other.

Now, however, as you sat on the counter of your shared apartment two years into your relationship, (along with your relocation to Canada for graduate school and to be closed to the man you loved,) you couldn’t help but rethink every single decision you’d made when it came to school. Which is how you found yourself at your kitchen island at 4AM, caught up in trying to calculate and write one of your dissertation chapters based off of your research.

“What does that even mean?” you groaned, staring at the chart in front of you, trying to evaluate what type of funding allocations had been given to a certain subset of the community you were working alongside for your Sociology and Statistics dissertation, but feeling like you were majorly failing at it.

You had been at this project for the past three years— and now, in your final year of your graduate program, you had been working yourself to the bone— being the first one in the lab at 6:30AM most days, and not making your way home until late at night, where you would kiss Quinn as he slept in your shared bed, but not join him unless it was to shower quickly before once again getting to work.

As the numbers swam in front of you, you couldn’t help but become more frustrated with yourself. Why couldn’t you understand this material like your colleagues? Why was it so difficult for you, and not them? Why couldn’t you just be good enough? Smart enough?

As these thoughts swarmed— a suffocating feeling of self-consciousness and imposter syndrome you had worked so hard for to trample down since you you had begun your undergrad in Washington, you tried to breathe— to remind yourself why you were here, but still failing; a failure that was making the streams of anxiety and panic bubble to the surface.

Trying to distance yourself from the onset panic attack you could feel you were at the brink of, you tried to make your way outside to your backyard— falling on your knees at the back door as you could feel your frame shake with the sobs of self-disappointment and anguish; of the amounting weight of not being good enough, and of the feeling like you didn’t belong.

You could feel the weight of the anxiety on your chest, a blanket made up of your deepest fears that you tried to breathe through, stuttering out shaky breaths on the floor as you tried to regain your composure. By your fifth breath, however, you couldn’t hold the tears at bay any longer— sobbing and letting the anxiety consume you like an endless and hungry wildfire— one that you couldn’t even trample down when you heard the opening of the door behind you, and felt the presence of the man you loved most kneeling down next to you, bringing you into his arms.

Despite how much you both pushed yourselves to the limit in your careers, Quinn was always there the moment you needed anything. He was your (albeit grumpy,) rock, and always the fresh of breath air you looked for. In a way, he was the Sun you stretched out to during the day, never shying away when he needed you in situations just like the one you found yourself in.

As Quinn brought you into his arms, now rocking you back and forth, he held you— understanding that you needed to be brought back into yourself before he could speak to you first; understanding that you needed to be brought back to your physical state before your emotional one.

As the two of you sat there for what felt like an hour to you, you could feel Quinn petting your hair and leaving small kisses on your temple, the scratch of his scruff leaving tiny trails of kisses as well on your cheeks. As your fears subsided, however, and your breathing went from rapid and choppy to calm and controlled, you disengaged yourself from his arms, only to look up at him immediately— seeing the worry in his big brown eyes, and seeing his sleep tousled hair and bloodshot eyes; remnants of the anxiety he felt seeing you break apart, no doubt.

“You back with me, Y/N?” he asked quietly, wanting to let you come back on your own terms, and without startling you. Quinn, despite everything, was still a big brother— the sibling who was pushed to always put the needs of others before his own, and who was always looking out for others before even listing what he needed. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, but also one who, too often, overlooked himself as well.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, your throat scratchy and raw. You rubbed your thumb on the collar of his shirt, entwining your fingers with his outstretched hand.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you have to take a break, baby,” you heard him plead with you. As you looked up at him, you could practically see the desperation in his eyes— fogged over by the concern he had for your own well-being, which he could clearly tell had been deteriorating over the past few weeks. “I know this is a big project, baby, please believe that I do— but you can’t keep doing this to yourself; to us,” he said. You could feel the tremors in his hands from his pleading, and, looking at his eyes— the dark circles under them only made the pit in your chest cave more. You were hurting him— you were hurting the man you love, and it felt like you couldn’t stop— couldn’t fix it.

“I’m sorry I’m hard to handle, Q, I didn’t mean to wake you up” you said, now sobbing directly into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry” you repeated into his chest, the sweater he had put on haphazardly now soaked through with your anxiety.

“No, no sweet girl, look at me— please” Quinn said, looking down at you, and pulling you slightly away from his chest. “You didn’t wake me up, baby. I missed you, and I wanted to check on you. In no way is this your fault, you hear me?” he said, holding your chin between his middle finger and thumb, angling you to meet his eyes.

He was entirely serious, too; he had missed you these past could weeks, and before he saw you mid-panic attack over your work, he was determined to simply drag you back— but at least now he could make you take a break; make you take care of yourself, and take care of you himself.

“Sweet girl, you are my entire world, okay? No matter what you do, you will still always— and I mean always, Y/N— be the smartest person to me; but you need to let yourself take a break baby, please,” he pleaded. Seeing you like this— your eyes bloodshot from the tears and numerous sleepless nights, had him worrying about you, but despite that, you would always be perfect in his eyes— no matter if you failed or if you passed with flying colors, he would only be proud of you.

“Y/N, you are my light, okay? I know I can’t always express it, but you need to understand how much you truly mean to me— I would be nothing without you, baby, but please— for my sake and for your own, please rest? We can go back to bed, and in the morning we’ll call in, both of us, okay? Please, baby, just let me hold you for longer than two hours,” he pleaded, trying to rope you into resting.

You could only lay your head back on his shoulder; you nodded slowly, encompassed in the smell of his cologne, and breathed. You were alright; you were with Quinn, your rock— and even though you might not have felt it right now, you were going to be okay— you were going to take a break.

In Quinn’s eyes, your image was unshakeable— something to behold, and something he would work for the rest of his life for you to see, too.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks

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prentissluvr · 11 months

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too cold — joel (and tommy) miller

gn!reader , (future)fatherfigure!joel (and tommy tbh) , takes place a year or two after joel and ellie settle in jackson , reader is in their mid/late teens , hurt/comfort, angst , cw : brief mentions of loss of friends and family, hypothermia , wc : 3.8K , special thanks to @piggyjeans for reading this for me and motivating me to wrap up this part and get it out to you guys !! <333

at this point, you’re beginning to wonder why you even try. you wonder if there’s a point when the scraps of any family you had left, found or biological, are long gone and you’re on the brink of freezing to death yourself. you managed a fire last night, but you’re shivering beyond control even in the daylight with your sore lack of a real coat. wherever you are, it’s cold as hell and winter is setting in far faster than you could ever combat. essentially, you’re screwed. it seems like it might snow more, there’s not a building in sight, and you’re running out of bullets and food. the cold bites at your exposed nose and takes permanent root in your bones.

night falls far too quickly, bringing the thick snow that you feared almost as much as infected or people; those you could fight, but the snow? against that you have no defense but a sputtering fire, measly shelter, and a slowly thinning sleeping bag. curled into yourself as much as you can, it takes a concerningly small amount of time for you to fall asleep.

by the time you finally come back into consciousness, the struggle to open your eyes scares you even in the muddled state of your mind. the sun is far higher than ideal; already you’ve lost precious traveling time now that your only hope is to find abandoned buildings to scavenge for supplies. and yet, the last thing you want to do is get out of your sleeping bag. it’s kept you as warm as you could be, and even now in the leftover warmth sleep, you’re all too aware of the snow that blew into the small overhand of rocks you slept underneath and the way it’s freezing temperatures will soak into your feet until it reaches every nerve of your body when you continue your trek through the forest.

but, despite that heavy question of what’s the point, there’s no way you’re going to let yourself give up and waste away in the cold without trying to save someone, even if that someone is yourself. so with every struggle, you pull your hands out from their haven in the swaths of fabric, fumbling slightly to zip open the bag and pull yourself out. you’re eternally grateful that you have gloves, but within the few minutes of packing up, the cold has already started to settle in your hands, feet, and face. begrudgingly, you swing your pack onto your shoulder and shove your hands into your pockets, looking for the most direct path to higher ground to scope out any buildings.

as you start out, it seems as though travel may not be the worst. but the thick snow from last night’s flurries and the still slowly falling flakes are quick to tire your legs from the effort, and the way that your jacket lets in too much of the numbing wind hinders your pace. you find yourself exhausted, taking moments to rest against trees that stretch into minutes, maybe longer as your mind becomes foggy and consistent shivering sets in throughout your whole body.

you stumble a bit and clumsily grab hold of the nearest tree. what the hell am i doing? you wonder. you let your whole side press against the rough surface of the tree, squeezing your eyes shut, then opening them in attempts to clear your head. but that doesn’t seem to help when you start to wonder if you’re hallucinating. just meters away your eyes land on a tall brown horse, an animal you don’t think you’ve seen outside of pictures. you stare at it in wonder for a moment, but a feeling of panic sets in when you process the fact that there’s a man sitting on the horse, a large rifle strapped across his back.

with your shaky hands you fumble around to pull out your gun, but it does you no good when the rifle is pointed at you in seconds.

despite the threat, the man’s voice isn’t harsh when he calls out to you. “’s alright. ’m not here to hurt you, alright? just drop your weapon.” without much resistance, you do as he says, seeing no other choice and feeling not an ounce of energy to fight back. within moments, he’s off the horse, one hand on its reins and the other put up in the air in a careful truce as he slowly moves closer to you. when he’s near enough that the snow doesn’t obstruct his view of your face, he can see the way that you’re shivering and the unfocused look in your eyes and can immediately notice that something’s not quite right.

“i need you to tell me if you’re infected. don’t lie now, alright? i’ll shoot you if i find out you do.” at this, his voice is more stern, stirring up a bit more fear in you. but you’re able to shake your head clearly.

“no. no, ’m not infected. haven’t run into any for days,” you speak aloud for the first time since you woke up this morning, and you don’t notice the way that your speech is slurred, but he does.

“alright, then. kid, i’m gonna get you somewhere warm, okay?” in the back of your head, you’re terrified to let him closer, to let some stranger lead you somewhere, but the promise of warmth is something you desperately need. even so, you flinch away when he’s finally right next to you and reaches out. “i promise ’m not gonna hurt ya. i’ve got somewhere safe and warm for you, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don't get some help now.” he’s completely right, you realize, so you just nod. “there ya go. do’y have a coat we can get on you?” he frowns when you shake your head, but doesn’t hesitate to unzip his own padded coat. gently, he pulls your pack off your back and sets it down. you don’t even realize what he’s doing until he shrugs his own coat over your shoulders and pulls it tight over your front. the leftover warmth from his own body is heavenly, but in the action, you lose your support against the tree and unconsciously lean into his firm frame. you don’t notice, but he stiffens at this, and his frown grows deeper when he feels how cold you are to the touch.

with strong hands, he pulls you away from him slightly. wordlessly, he guides your shivering arms into the sleeves of his coat, silently grateful for the warm jacket he still has on.

“we’ve gotta get on the horse, now.”

you just nod, letting him guide you to the tall animal. but you stop short at its side, completely unsure of how you’ll get up.

“first you put your right foot in the stirrup, right here.” you don’t have to say anything for him to begin telling you what you need to. “put your hand on the saddle here to help you up. i’m gonna hold you steady, okay?” you nod, letting him place his firm hands on your waist as you put the last of your strength into lifting one foot into the stirrup. “now you’ve gotta push up with that foot to swing your other leg over the horse.” it takes all of your concentration to understand what he says, and strength that you don’t have to actually do it. it’s messy, but thanks to his help and some miracle, you find yourself on top of the horse and putting all of your effort into staying upright.

“there ya go. i’m gonna get on in front of you, don’t you fall off now.” he quickly fastens your pack onto the horse, letting out a small grunt as he pulls himself up onto the animal. his body warmth right in front of you is precious and you don’t have it in you to feel awkward in the way he does as he pulls your arms around his torso to keep you steady. “just hold on and stay awake, alright? shouldn’t be too long til we get you warm.” once again, you just nod, knowing he can feel it with the side of your face pressed against his back.

as the horse starts forward at a decent pace, his instructions of holding on prove to be harder than ideal with your weakened grip. you don’t know how much time passes until the horse’s movement stops and the man’s voice, along with another, meets your ears.

you startle when the unfamiliar voice calls out. “joel! what took you so lon– what happened?”

“sorry, tommy.” you can feel the rumble of his voice while pressed against him, and turn your head to face the source of the other voice. “found ‘em leaning against a tree just a bit off the path. think they’ve got hypothermia.”

there’s another man on a horse, probably younger, but you can’t tell much else in the snow and the state of your mind. either way, you can’t help but read him as a danger. the man in front of you, joel, you assume, must have picked up on your fear behind him

“’s alright. that’s my brother, tommy. he’s here to help too, okay?”

another nod from you, and a “damn” from tommy.

“let’s get going, then. we’ll stay in the lookout for tonight then get them back to jackson first thing in the morning. it’ll be dark soon.”

joel agrees, and with that, you set off. every so often, his voice brings you out of your daze long enough for you to nod your head against his back when he checks if you’re still awake. your sense of time is long gone; all you know when you arrive at the mentioned lookout is a vague sense of relief.

“kid?” his voice rings out and you realize the motion of the horse has finally come to a stop. you do your best to sit up, hating the biting air that immediately hits your front now that it’s not kept warm by joel’s back. your hands stay resting absentmindedly on his shoulders in order to keep you from slipping off of the horse. “tommy’s gonna help you off, okay?” you let out a small hum of acknowledgement as tommy dismounts his horse and comes to stand beside you.

“here we go,” he gives you a small, encouraging smile as he lifts his arms up for you. “put your hands on my shoulders, and i’ll get you down safe ’n sound, alright?” it’s a bit of an awkward reach, and you begin to slip down before you have a proper grasp, but his hands are quick to secure themselves under your armpits, preventing you from falling and instead pulling you into his chest. your knees buckle the moment they hit the ground; tommy’s strong grip keeps you upright. “there you are, ’s alright. god, you’re shivering like a leaf in the wind. we’ll get you nice and warm now.”

there’s a bit of a struggle getting inside, your legs practically refusing to hold your weight. an immense wave of relief washes through you when you collapse onto the couch they bring you to and you let your eyes shut in exhaustion.

“now don’t you fall asleep on us quite yet,” joel warns. “we gotta get you warm first. tommy, get some hot water going.” you force your eyes back open to see him crouching in front of you. “listen, uh. some of your clothes are a little wet from the snow, and we can’t have that.” he pauses at that, studying your face to catch any sort of reaction.

“okay,” you whisper, somehow coherent enough to still understand what he’s saying and know that he’s right.

“okay,” he repeats. “can i take these jackets off?” you nod. his grip is gentle when he pulls you up from your slouched position, allowing you to lean into him when he slips off the coat he gave you, then your own slightly damp jacket. you begin to shiver even harder, your thinning cotton shirt doing nothing to keep any cold at bay. “alright, alright,” he mumbles, half to himself as he pulls his thicker, dry coat back around you. then comes a blanket, taken from the couch and wrapped securely around your shoulders. he shifts you to rest against the back of the sofa.

that’s when he pauses, at a bit of a loss of what to do because your jeans, despite your thick boots, are soaked from the snow almost up to your knees. but there’s no way in hell he’d feel comfortable taking off your pants, much less how you’d feel.

“i’m gonna have to cut your pants,” he concludes. “promise we’ll get you new ones in town, but you’ll never get warm like this.”

“’s okay,” you mumble. so he rummages in his pack until he finds a pair of scissors, doing his best to avoid touching your bare skin with his hands or cut you with the cold metal. it’s tricky business; the jeans stick fairly close to your skin, but he manages not to even nick you with the sharp edges. the moment you’re free from any damp clothing, he wraps another blanket securely around your legs so it won’t fall off.

moments later, tommy reappears in your line of sight with exactly what joel asked for. he leans down, holding it out to you. with shaky hands, you grasp the cup, sighing in immediate relief at the warmth that spreads right into your fingers through your gloves.

“careful, now,” tommy advises. “it’s real hot, don’t burn your tongue.” you do your best to follow his instruction, weakly blowing at the hot water when you bring it close to your mouth. resisting the urge to down the whole thing, you grip it tighter and bring it to your chest, hoping to let some of the warmth permeate through other parts of your body other than your hands. it feels like a little piece of heaven when you feel the steam rising up to warm your chin, your lips, and the tip of your nose and the heat from the cup itself travel through your thin shirt and to the skin above your collarbone.

when you finally begin to sip on the warm water, it’s almost glorious; you can feel its warmth spread through your body. so once you discover it’s no longer too hot, you take long gulps and heave heavy sighs of relief. your trembling doesn’t disappear, but with the third cup, it certainly subsides.

this, and the far more relaxed expression on your face finally convinces joel that it’s safe to let you fall asleep—you’re halfway there anyways. tommy takes the empty cup from your hands before it can slip from your hold, and joel unravels your sleeping bag. at that point, you can no longer process the softly spoken words being exchanged by the brothers, but you’re vaguely aware of tommy’s arms tucking themselves under your shoulders and knees and pulling you off of the couch. then you’re being maneuvered into the sleeping bag that now lays across the surface of the couch, tommy setting you down while joel ensures that you stay properly wrapped up in the blankets. sleep claims you so quickly that you don’t hear the agreement between the two men to take turns keeping watch over you to periodically check your temperature and breathing.

joel wakes you in the morning, his gruff voice quickly recounting the events of the previous day when your jumbled state of mind after waking from such a deep sleep launches you into a panicked confusion. his explanation and comforting hands on your shoulders calm you in moments as the memories return, however vague they are due to the haze of your sickness.

“thank you,” you whisper as he helps you to sit up, his hands still gentle and supportive on your shoulders.

“course. like i said, we’ve got somewhere safe for you if you need. and at the very least, we’ve gotta get you some new pants and make sure you don’t get sick. were you travelin’ all alone?”

“not at first,” you explain, knowing he’s probably wondering about finding someone so young alone. “but now… yeah.” he sighs as if that’s the answer he expected.

“’m sorry,” he frowns. you just give a tight-lipped smile in response. “alright. we should get moving so we can get you to the town doctor. tommy’s gettin’ the horses ready.”

your eyebrows raise at his words. “town doctor?” you question. that puts a small smile on his lips that you don’t quite understand.

“yep. it’s a good place to be,” is all he offers in explanation.

“okay.” you begin untangling yourself from the blankets and sleeping bag that did the job of keeping you warm throughout the night. still covered by his coat, your upper half stays comfortable, but the feeling of your exposed calves hitting the cold air is unwelcome, not to mention the slightly embarrassing sight of the jagged edges of your jeans at such an awkward spot.

“sorry ‘bout that,” he comments, “but we’ll keep your legs wrapped up with blankets for now and get you new jeans in town.” once you nod, he grabs a hold of one of the blankets he laid on top of you after you feel asleep, a rather small piece of fabric, but the right size to help you out. he wraps it around your left leg, using ropes from his supplies to gently secure the fabric, then repeating his actions for your other leg.

as he does so, he keeps his gaze focused on his task, but his gravelly voice meets your ears. “realized we never asked your name,” he phrases it like a statement, but the obvious question is there.

to be honest, you hadn’t even realized either, first, mind clouded by the hypothermia, and up until now too caught up in the oddness of your situation. one moment you’re all on your own and on the brink of death, the next you’re saved and seemingly on the way to what sounds like some sort of miraculous safe haven even from the vague glimpses of information you hear.

you state your name, hoping with all you can muster up that this isn’t some kind of cruel trick, and that the kindness the two men have shown you is as genuine as it’s proved to be thus far.

“well then,” he repeats your name back to you as he secures the last knot, still not looking up at you, “let’s get you home.”

those words nearly knock the air from your lungs. he throws them out like they don’t mean much, but in the most confusing way, because you’re sure he did it on purpose. you’re sure he does know that they mean a whole lot more than a casual tone and avoided eye-contact, but you suppose you can’t blame him. it’s often easier to pretend they don’t mean anything, certainly much more with people you don’t really know at all, people like you. and yet, you can’t help but think he said it to reassure you. to tell you that this place he’s talking about is one where you can find that thing everyone in this world has lost. as if it’s somewhere you already belong without having set foot in it yet. and you can’t tell the difference between hope and fear in that moment, so you shove it all away.

“sure.” you stand just after he does, grabbing your sleeping bag and beginning to roll it to the best of your ability while still weak. but he stops you, quickly taking over the task of clearing and packing up the last few things in the lookout after handing you a cup of warm water, not too hot. you finish it quickly, still more than grateful for any warmth that can be provided.

joel motions towards the door once he’s finished, and on still slightly wobbly legs, you walk up to him, stopping before he can lead you out.

“thank you, joel,” your voice is quiet, but sure when you say it.

“of course,” he assures, genuine in the affirmation.

“and tommy. tommy, too, of course,” you stutter, suddenly feeling awkward.

“sure thing.” he clears his throat, one his occupied hands almost moving up to rub the back of his neck. at that he turns, and you follow him out, back into the cold.

the shivery weather is not welcome by you, but in a properly warm coat and definitively out of the worst of your condition, it’s far more bearable. you feel bad for taking over joel’s coat, but he seems just fine in his jacket that’s clearly far warmer than your old, lousy excuse of a winter garment.

tommy and the horses are waiting there, just as joel said, and he smiles upon seeing you.

“good to see you up and alive, kid,” he grins with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

you answer his playfully reassuring attitude with a bashful smile of your own. “yeah, the alive part is definitely a plus,” you say in attempts of matching his tone. the way his grin grows tells you the joke landed, putting you at even more ease than before. unfortunately, it doesn’t make the way you formally introduce yourself to him any less awkward, but he seems glad to know your name. by your side, joel tightens one last strap on the horse before placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

“i think we’re good to go now. it’ll only be a few hours of riding,” he informs.

“sure,” you nod. pausing for a moment, you cast eyes down before speaking, albeit a bit timidly. “could you.. could you help me up again?”

you completely miss the soft look on his face at your request. “course i can, kiddo. i’ll get up first and help you from there, okay?” at your affirmative, he easily mounts the horse before holding a hand out to you. “just put your foot here, grab my hand, and i’ll do all the work, alright?” he moves his leg away from the stirrup so that you can use it yourself, his grip on your hand steady the moment you place it in his palm. gratefully, you follow his instructions, doing your best to use your own strength in tandem with joel to ease the effort he has to put forth to help you up. as you swing your leg over the horse, he guides your hand to hold onto his shoulder for you to grip far easier than his hand and succeeds in getting you into the saddle behind him. with that, you’re off, traveling somewhere that you somehow dare to hope is the sort of paradise joel and tommy have described.

part two here !!

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hellfireclubmember · 2 years

Text

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗱

another blurb, boyfriend!steve and dustin finding out you're a tolkien nerd. short and sweet

warning: did not proofread this at all, pls forgive some mistakes.

Pt. 2

“No, Steve. The Shire is in Middle earth.” Dustin was on the brink of no longer being excited about this.

Eddie had, yet again, made a Lord of the Rings reference. This time Steve decided it would be best to just ask what the hell everyone’s talking about. He was sick of being confused about the nerd stuff Dustin and Eddie were always talking about.

You walked into Family Video before Steve had the chance to reply. Which is a good thing considering he was about to smack Dustin.

“Hey, Stevie.” You walked toward the register and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Henderson.” You reached over and flicked his cap. “What’re my boys talking about?”

“The Shire.” Dustin sighed, remembering what the topic was before you walked in. “Your boyfriend is having trouble understanding Middle earth.”

“Yeah, and Dustin is being a jerk about it.” Steve grabbed your hand over the counter and directed you to walk around it. He flung his arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead when you looked up at him. “Missed you, angel.”

“Missed you more.” You brought your hand up and held his. “I can explain it you by the way; I’ll definitely be a lot nicer than Dustin.”

You had never talked to Steve about Lord of the Rings. It’s not like you were consciously keeping it out of conversation, it just never really came up. You also didn’t think Steve would be thrilled to sit through a thorough explanation of the one ring.

“You read Tolkien?” Dustin’s eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion. He felt like that was information he should’ve known by now. He looked over at Steve, almost hurt that he would keep this kind of thing from him. “You knew about this and didn’t say anything? Are you ashamed that your girlfriend is a nerd?” He shook his head. “I thought you were better than that, Steve.”

“Shut up, Henderson. I didn’t know.” Steve’s eyes met yours. “Not that I’m saying you’re a nerd just ‘cause you know about this ring stuff. Well maybe you are? Is that okay to call you? What really even is a nerd?”

You watched Steve ramble on with an amused look on your face, wondering when he would finally put a stop to himself and when he didn’t you put your hand on his cheek. “Breathe, love. Nerd is okay. I am a nerd, self-proclaimed.” You watched him let out a breath.

“Right, what’s your favorite book?” Dustin snapped his fingers to get you to look back at him.

“I think Fellowship, just ‘cause it introduced a darker side to Tolkien compared to The Hobbit but The Silmarillion is a second favorite, gave us such an in depth understanding of Middle Earth.” You could visibly see the happiness grow in Dustin’s eyes as you spoke.

“Eddie’s gonna shit himself when I tell him this.”

“Oh no! Munson’s always had a little crush on you, now it’s gonna be a full blown one.” Steve rolled his eyes at the thought of the long-haired idiot making nerdy heart eyes at you.

“He does not.” You smacked your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“No, he’s totally right. Now he’s really never going to shut up about how Steve doesn’t deserve you.”

“He says that?” Steve was giving an angry pout. He slid his arms around your waist and hooked his chin over your shoulder. “Tell the freak to find his own hot nerd girlfriend.”

#stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic

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sunandflame · 10 months

Note

Hey there :) I hope you’re having a great day :) if it’s okay please could I request a fic of muzan. Where the reader comes from a troubled family, and she’s always kind to muzan every time he comes through town and he’s very fond of her but one day when he visits he finds her on the brink of death so he turns her into a demon and she quickly becomes an upper moon. I hope this isn’t too much information 💙💙

Hi there! I actually never ever wrote something for Muzan, but I do like challenges! And there is never too much information. I hope it's the way you want it and please let me know if not, since I am always looking for a way to improve myself ❤️

Beguiling voice

Warnings: angst, violence, ra.pe attempt

Word Count: 966

Pairing: Muzan x Fem!Reader

Again you had to dry your tears and hide it behind a mask of smiles. Again you had to hide the bruises under your kimono and had to act like nothing happened. It was embarrassing and it became a habit to tug at the sleeve of your own kimono, so nobody saw the evidence of your troubled household. And yet you smiled, remained friendly, because that was your nature. You believed in the good of people even though it's been faltering lately.

You bowed to the pale man in the western suit and white fedora, gave him your friendliest smile. You often saw him here in the tea house and even if he didn't really order anything, you always tried to have a conversation with him as his voice was so beguiling to you and it was always a friendly exchange. He too seemed to be enjoying the conversations. That's how it seemed. Because if it hadn't been like that, he wouldn't be showing up again and again, right? He wasn't always there but as soon he was in the town, he made sure to visit you at least once. His soothing voice and manner were always a blessing on your battered soul and there were often times when you sought for the simplicity in your conversations. He was even in your daydreams when you tried to escape the unpleasant moments with your family. It was your escape of the reality, but the reality can hit hard.

You already had a queasy feeling since you made your way home from work. It was much later than expected and you quickly hurried to get back into your own four walls. You just wanted to be home as soon as possible, but that was denied to you.

With a jerk you were grabbed from behind and pulled into a dark alley and before you even knew what was happening to you your head banged against the wall and you lost consciousness for a moment and something wet flowed down your neck. You heard several male voices

"Fuck, she doesn't have anything valuable on her! Not even worth to rob her."

"Just leave the bitch here"

"Are you sure we shouldn't even have some fun with her? She's quite the beauty, isn't she?"

You opened your eyes in shock and began to whimper and fight. If they try something on you, they shouldn't have it easy at least. You clawed, bit and kicked around, but it only seemed to make the attackers more aggressive until eventually they got tired and just kicked you to the ground. Your consciousness wavered between fainting and trying to suppress the pain.

At some point the pain stopped and you knew that it was not only because they stopped kicking you and went away, but because you felt that you were close to death. It really was like most people said. The pain was gone for the moment and the good memories will flash in front of your eyes. Only that they weren't memories of your family, just the ones you shared with this beautiful pale stranger with the fedora.

You felt movement and someone was gently rocking you in their arms. "Drink this..." A bitter tear ran down your blemished face. You didn't want him to see you like this and yet you were overjoyed in your inner that he was the one to keep you company in your final minutes. You allowed yourself to nuzzle yourself to him or was it him who held you tighter? You couldn't tell "Y/n, drink that" This time the voice was more demanding, not allowing you to resist even as you lay dying.

With your last strength you drank what he gave you and the peaceful death you wished for was undone. Agony tortured you and you twitched in his arms, but he had been so strong that he still had no trouble holding you. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, leaving marks on his perfect jacket. You didn't know what was happening to you, but you knew there was a change and suddenly everything went black around you.

It's been some time, but it was relative for you anyway. You had become a different person. No longer a human, but you were a Demon now. And you became one of the Upper Moon Six after Gyutaro and Daki fell victim to the Demon Slayer Corps. But that wasn't the main cause. Muzan was fond of you and your strength and he regularly enriched you with his potent blood. He wanted to see you strong at his side and in his inner circle. But even so, you had shown an outstanding strength that put a smile on Muzan.

"Y/n..." His beguiling voice reached you as he brought you into the infinity castle.

"Yes, my lord..." Immediately you were on your knees to demonstrate your devotion. You didn't remember your previous life or how you came to 'death'. You knew you owed everything to him. And his voice was always something that caused a pleasant tingle in you. You knew you owed everything to him.

"Come here my beautiful." He gave you his hand and asked you to stand up. His cool hand stroked your cheek and an inner longing spread through you. If only he... You didn't finish the sentence in your head, his lips were on yours, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip while he looked down at you with his red plum eyes. "I thought I would show you how fond I am actually of you... My dear y/n" His fingers rested on your chin as he stole another kiss from you and even if it took you by surprise, you were not complaining as it was exactly what you always wished for.

#divider by firefly-graphics #sunnys work #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny fanfic #demon slayer drabble #kimetsu no yaiba drabble #kny drabble #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kibutsuji muzan #muzan kibutsuji x you #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan kibutsuji x y/n

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horeformilfs · 5 months

Text

Little Crow

Mother Miranda X Fem! Reader

TW: Near Death, Experimentation, Panic Attack, Nightmare, Manipulation

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

The biting cold of winter gnawed at Y/n's consciousness as she lay on the brink of death. A veil of darkness enveloped her, and the frigid wind whispered it's icy lullaby. In the stillness of the night, Mother Miranda discovered Y/n, a fragile soul on the edge of oblivion. The woman, shrouded in mystery, cradled the unconscious figure and spirited her away to the eerie confines of her hidden laboratory.

When Y/n awoke, the sterile scent of antiseptic assaulted her senses. Confusion etched across her face as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Mother Miranda loomed over her, a haunting silhouette against the backdrop of medical equipment and arcane symbols. The ethereal figure explained how she had saved Y/n from the clutches of death.

With a furrowed brow, Y/n questioned the circumstances surrounding her rescue, seeking answers in the eyes of Mother Miranda. "Where am I? What happened?" she inquired, her voice a fragile echo in the sterile air.

The cryptic woman revealed the truth, stripping away the illusion of benevolence. "You were on the brink of demise. I saved you. You are in my domain now," Miranda declared with a dispassionate certainty that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

A chill settled in Y/n's heart as she asked when she would be able to leave. The response was cold and unyielding. "Never," Miranda stated, her voice echoing through the sterile room.

Confused and indignant, Y/n protested, "Why? I didn't ask for your help, and I certainly didn't agree to be your prisoner!"

A smirk played upon Miranda's lips as she revealed her true intentions. "You are mine now. A subject for my experiments. Your destiny is entwined with mine," she asserted, her words a haunting melody that reverberated through the room.

Y/n recoiled, defiance in her eyes. "I am not some property for you to claim! You can't just take me and do as you please!"

Miranda's smirk deepened, and her eyes gleamed with an unsettling confidence. "That's where you're wrong, my dear. In this domain, you are nothing but mine to control and use. Welcome to your new reality."

Days melded into a nightmarish blur as Miranda's relentless experiments continued to unfold upon Y/n. The sterile walls of the laboratory bore witness to the suffering etched across Y/n's face. In a desperate attempt to grasp the reasons behind her torment, Y/n mustered the strength to question Miranda.

"Why me?" Y/n's voice trembled, a plea for answers in the midst of agony.

Miranda responded with cryptic prose that offered no solace. "The tapestry of fate is woven with threads of sacrifice. You are but a pawn in a grand design," she murmured, her gaze fixated on the swirling concoctions in her hands.

A cold shiver ran down Y/n's spine as Miranda injected her with a sedative, the world fading into a hazy dreamscape. As Y/n fought the impending pull of unconsciousness, she struggled to voice her questions, each attempt drowned in the intoxicating numbness.

The next awakening brought little respite. Y/n found herself lying on the sterile bed once more, Miranda meticulously recording notes from the latest experiment. Desperation clawed at Y/n's chest as she summoned the strength to speak once more.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Y/n's words wavered, the echo of her plea lingering in the sterile air.

Miranda glanced at her with an indifferent gaze before resuming her work, the answer elusive as ever. Y/n, tired of the ceaseless torment, reached the precipice of despair. In a voice laced with weariness, she begged, "If I can't leave, if there's no escape from this nightmare, just end it. Kill me and free me from this agony."

A chilling silence enveloped the room as Miranda paused, her expression unreadable. The weight of Y/n's plea lingered, the room suffused with an unsettling tension, as if the very air held its breath, awaiting a response from the mistress of this macabre domain.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open once more, the stark reality of her captivity settling like a heavy shroud. In a desperate attempt to break free from this nightmare, she pleaded with Miranda once again, her voice tinged with both desperation and frustration.

"Please, Miranda, let me go. I beg you. I can't take this any longer," Y/n implored, her eyes searching for a hint of mercy in Miranda's gaze.

But Miranda, unmoved by the plea, shook her head. "You are destined for something greater, my dear. I won't let you go," she declared with an air of finality.

Confusion and fear gripped Y/n as she questioned, "Destined for what? Why won't you just tell me the truth?"

Miranda, ever cryptic, revealed her grand design. "You will be the fifth lord of the village, ruling over your own domain. The cadou will be implanted within you, granting you unimaginable power," she explained, a twisted sense of pride in her proclamation.

Y/n recoiled at the revelation, a surge of defiance rising within her. "I won't be part of your twisted plans! I won't let you turn me into some monster!" she protested, her voice laced with determination.

Miranda's gaze remained unyielding. "As long as you don't succumb to the lycan transformation, you shall rule over your domain with power and influence," she stated, as if sealing Y/n's fate with the utterance of those words.

Despite Y/n's fervent resistance, Miranda stood firm, her decision unwavering. "The procedure will take place tomorrow evening. The other lords will bear witness to your ascension," Miranda declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The weight of impending doom settled upon Y/n's shoulders, the realization that escape was futile. The once-vivid hope for freedom now flickered, threatened by the encroaching darkness of Miranda's ambitions. Tomorrow would unveil a twisted destiny, and Y/n could only brace herself for the unknown horrors that awaited

The night of the ominous procedure descended, casting a shadow over Y/n's fragile hope. Miranda led her to a dimly lit chamber, where the other lords awaited—Alcina Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, Karl Heisenberg, and Salvatore Moreau. Their presence intensified the air of dread that hung over the room.

Alcina, statuesque and commanding, fixated her gaze on Y/n, a predatory glint in her eyes. Before the procedure began, she approached with an air of casual flirtation, causing Miranda's envious ire to flare.

"Well, well, Miranda, you've found quite the interesting specimen," Alcina purred, her gaze lingering on Y/n. "Quite a pity to subject such beauty to your experiments."

Miranda, barely containing her jealousy, shot Alcina a warning glance before dragging Y/n toward the cold, metallic operating table. The restraints clamped around Y/n's limbs, rendering her immobile as Miranda prepared for the procedure.

In a hushed tone, Miranda informed Y/n, "I won't sedate you. The pain will be excruciating, you may pass out if it becomes too much. Do try to endure it."

Terror etched across Y/n's face as she pleaded, "Please, Miranda, don't do this! I beg you!"

Ignoring her pleas, Miranda proceeded with the surgery. Y/n's back lay exposed as Miranda carefully opened it, revealing the vulnerability of her spine. The cadou, an otherworldly entity, awaited its integration.

As the cadou attached itself to Y/n's spinal cord, an indescribable pain erupted through her body. Each invasive touch sent waves of agony coursing through her, and the room spun in a disorienting blur. Y/n's cries of anguish filled the chamber, the torment escalating with each passing moment.

Alcina observed with detached interest, a smirk playing on her lips. "Fascinating, isn't it?" she remarked, her tone betraying a hint of sadistic pleasure.

Y/n, on the brink of unconsciousness, gasped for breath between tortured sobs. "Please, make it stop!" she begged, her plea lost in the sea of agony.

The room echoed with the unsettling sounds of the unholy procedure, and as Y/n succumbed to the unbearable pain, the darkness claimed her consciousness, leaving her at the mercy of Miranda's experiments.

As the procedure unfolded, Y/n's body underwent a miraculous transformation. The wound on her back healed before their eyes, revealing the regenerative capabilities bestowed upon her by the cadou. Satisfied with the apparent success, Miranda covered Y/n with a blanket and gently laid her on her back, allowing her to rest while she conferred with the other lords.

As Miranda engaged in conversation with the remaining lords, Alcina couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss. Her sharp instincts led her back to Y/n's side. The sight of her serene form beneath the blanket belied the turmoil within.

A few minutes passed, and Alcina's suspicion deepened. She leaned in to examine Y/n more closely, her hand gently brushing against Y/n's forehead. Alarmed, she realized that Y/n was burning up with a fever.

"Something's not right," Alcina muttered to herself, her concern deepening as Y/n began to stir.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused and delirious. In a weak voice, she mumbled, "Am I dying?"

Alcina, kneeling beside her, brushed the hair from Y/n's face with a soft touch. "No, my dear. You're going to be okay," she reassured, trying to offer comfort amidst the uncertainty.

The three other lords had departed, leaving Alcina alone with the ailing Y/n. Concern etched across her elegant features, Alcina made her way to Mother Miranda to share her discovery.

"There's something wrong with your experiment. The girl has a fever, and she seems... weakened," Alcina stated, her gaze unwavering.

Miranda, initially dismissive, turned her attention to Alcina. "It's merely a side effect. The transformation is taxing on the body. She will recover," she asserted, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

Alcina, not entirely convinced, kept a watchful eye on Y/n, determined to uncover the mystery shrouding the girl's newfound existence in the village of shadows.

An hour passed, and Alcina vigilantly watched over the delirious Y/n as Miranda continued her cleanup and note-taking from the procedure. The room, once filled with the unsettling sounds of experimentation, now echoed with an uneasy silence.

Y/n stirred once more, her eyes clouded with confusion and her words a desperate murmur. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." she repeated, the weight of remorse heavy in her delirium.

Alcina, attempting to make sense of the apologies, leaned in to question Y/n. "Sorry for what, my dear? What troubles you?" she inquired, her concern etched across her regal features.

Before Y/n could respond, a sudden and violent seizure gripped her, her eyes rolling back, and her body convulsing. Alcina reacted swiftly, rushing to Mother Miranda to alert her to the dire situation.

Initially skeptical, Miranda tried to dismiss Alcina's concerns, but as the severity became evident, her cold exterior cracked. Panic flashed in Miranda's eyes as she rushed to Y/n's side, abandoning her usual composure. "What is happening?" Miranda demanded, urgency replacing her usual stoicism.

Alcina, maintaining her calm, swiftly procured a sedative and a needle, handing them to Miranda. "She's having a seizure. We need to sedate her," Alcina asserted, her eyes locked on Y/n's convulsing form.

Miranda, finally acknowledging the gravity of the situation, nodded and carefully dosed the sedative before injecting it into Y/n's arm. The seizure subsided, leaving Y/n disoriented, her gaze searching for something to anchor her faltering consciousness.

Miranda, an uncharacteristic gentleness in her touch, carded her hand through Y/n's hair, trying to comfort the distressed soul. "It's alright. You're going to be okay," Miranda murmured, her usual air of authority replaced by genuine concern.

Y/n, still caught in the throes of delirium, continued to murmur apologies, her voice fading as the sedative took effect. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she whispered before succumbing to the soothing embrace of unconsciousness, leaving Miranda and Alcina to grapple with the uncertainties of her tortured existence.

Y/n lay in peaceful slumber in a quiet room, the traces of the recent ordeal evident on her exhausted form. Meanwhile, Miranda and Alcina retreated to a dimly lit corner to discuss the unsettling events that had unfolded.

Alcina, her piercing gaze fixed on Miranda, couldn't resist probing the woman about her unexpected display of gentleness. "I never took you for a caretaker, Miranda. What is it about this girl that softened your resolve?" Alcina's tone held a curious edge, her eyes searching for the cracks in Miranda's composed facade.

Miranda, initially dismissive, tried to deflect the question. "It's merely practical. She's a valuable asset, and her well-being is crucial for the success of my experiments."

Alcina, undeterred, continued to press. "Practicality, Miranda? I've seen you deal with subjects before, but I've never seen you show such concern. What's different this time?"

Miranda's gaze drifted towards the sleeping Y/n, a subtle smile gracing her features. Alcina, noticing the uncharacteristic expression, couldn't help but smirk knowingly. "Ah, Miranda, it seems you've developed a soft spot for the girl. How intriguing."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda attempted to maintain her stoic composure. "Don't be absurd, Alcina. I have no sentimental attachments."

But Alcina persisted, her smirk widening. "Oh, spare me. I can see it in your eyes. There's more to this than practicality. Admit it, Miranda, there are feelings involved."

Miranda's stern facade wavered, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. She glanced back at Y/n, still peacefully asleep, and finally conceded, "Fine, there might be... something. But it's irrelevant. She's a means to an end."

Alcina, satisfied with her victory, chuckled softly. "Love can be a powerful force, Miranda. Don't underestimate its influence, especially in these peculiar circumstances."

Miranda shot Alcina a warning glare, but a hint of uncertainty lingered in her eyes. As they continued to observe the slumbering Y/n, the room held an air of unspoken complexity, leaving the emotions between them shrouded in the village's lingering shadows.

Days passed, and Y/n's recovery unfolded slowly. The room, once filled with the tense atmosphere of experiments, now echoed with the soft sounds of her mending breaths. Miranda and Alcina, though each harboring their own thoughts, found themselves drawn back to the side of the convalescent.

Y/n, still in the embrace of healing dreams, remained oblivious to the silent conversations that transpired between Miranda and Alcina. The air hung thick in the room, as both women navigated the uncharted waters of emotions they were reluctant to acknowledge.

Miranda, ever the stoic figure, observed Y/n with a mix of clinical interest and an unfamiliar tenderness. Alcina, however, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease the usually unyielding Mother Miranda. "I must say, Miranda, you're becoming quite the caregiver. Who would have thought?"

Miranda shot Alcina a withering glance. "This changes nothing. She's still a tool, a means to an end," she asserted, though the conviction in her voice wavered.

Alcina, undeterred, circled the topic like a predator circling its prey. "And yet, you smile when you look at her. I never thought I'd see the day when Mother Miranda, the cold and calculating, would show such vulnerability."

Miranda's gaze flickered towards Y/n, who stirred in her sleep. The small smile that graced Miranda's lips went unnoticed by her, but not by the persistent Alcina.

"I wonder, Miranda, are you starting to care for her in a way that goes beyond your experiments?" Alcina's voice held a teasing lilt, testing the boundaries of Miranda's carefully guarded emotions.

Miranda sighed, her defenses momentarily crumbling. "Feelings have no place in my work. This is merely an unexpected complication."

Alcina, satisfied with her playful interrogation, leaned against the wall. "Time will tell, Miranda. Sometimes the unexpected can lead to the most intriguing developments."

As the room returned to its hushed stillness, the unresolved tension lingered in the air. Miranda, with a final glance at the resting Y/n, left the room, her thoughts trailing in her wake. The delicate dance of emotions within the village of shadows continued, shrouded in mysteries that even the formidable Mother Miranda couldn't fully unravel.

Y/n awakened in an unfamiliar bedroom, the soft glow of an early dawn filtering through the curtains. The room felt both foreign and oddly comforting. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she ventured further into the unfamiliar space. The mirror above the dresser caught her eye, and as she glanced into it, a shiver ran down her spine. Staring back at her were piercing yellow eyes, a stark contrast to the familiar gaze she once knew.

A sense of disquiet settled in her chest as Y/n made her way through the house. The walls adorned with paintings told tales of a history she couldn't quite grasp. As she ascended a staircase, she found herself drawn to the dim light seeping through a partially open door. Pushing the door open, Y/n discovered a room bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. Books lined shelves, creating a haven for knowledge. It was a library, a vast collection of forgotten stories and untold secrets.

As Y/n continued to explore the depths of the library, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight. There, on a cozy couch, sat Mother Miranda, appearing surprisingly domestic. The ambient light revealed the striking features that had been concealed by the formidable facade—piercing blue eyes, defined cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and long, flowing blonde hair. Y/n found herself momentarily captivated by the unexpected beauty of the woman.

Lost in her observations, Y/n failed to notice Miranda rising from the couch and silently approaching. The sudden presence startled her, and Y/n turned to find Miranda standing before her. With a teasing smirk, Miranda directed Y/n's face up by her chin, forcing her to meet those intense blue eyes.

"Well, little crow, did you enjoy the view?" Miranda's voice dripped with amusement as her fingers traced lightly along Y/n's jawline and down her neck. Y/n's breath hitched, the unexpected intimacy causing a blush to creep across her cheeks.

Miranda, reveling in the effect, continued to tease. "You seem quite taken by the beauty that's been right in front of you all along. Did you think I was only capable of cruelty?"

Y/n stammered, attempting to regain composure. "I... I just didn't expect to see you like this."

Miranda chuckled, the sultry sound echoing in the library. "Expectations can be deceiving, little crow. There's more to me than meets the eye."

The teasing continued as Miranda leaned in, her lips grazing Y/n's ear. "You know, little crow, you're quite enchanting when you're flustered. It's a sight to behold."

Y/n, now thoroughly flustered, turned away, attempting to hide her embarrassment. Miranda's sultry chuckle filled the air, and she whispered something that made Y/n's blush deepen.

"Such a delicate little thing, aren't you? Easily rattled." Miranda's voice was a sultry purr as she continued to playfully torment Y/n. "But there's a certain allure in vulnerability, don't you think?"

As the teasing dance between them unfolded, the library became a stage for the interplay of emotions, leaving Y/n caught in the intricate web that Mother Miranda seemed to delight in weaving.

Y/n, still slightly flustered from Miranda's teasing, attempted to regain her composure. Clearing her throat, she decided to address the pressing matter at hand. "Mother Miranda, can you please explain what happened during the experiment? I need to understand."

Miranda, with an air of mystery, simply responded, "All in good time, little crow. Right now, you should focus on resting." Her tone left no room for negotiation, and Y/n, unaware of her own fatigue, reluctantly agreed to heed Miranda's advice.

Guiding Y/n back to the room she had awakened in, Miranda spoke softly, "You'll find everything you need in here. Rest well. I'm just across the hall if you require anything."

As Miranda bid her goodnight, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of vulnerability that lingered between them. A step forward from Miranda closed the distance, and Y/n instinctively took a step back, her back meeting the door. A question caught in her throat, silenced by the unexpected proximity.

With a tenderness that contradicted her usual demeanor, Miranda placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Y/n's mouth. "Goodnight, my dear," she murmured before retreating to her own room, leaving Y/n standing there, stunned and breathless.

The closing of Miranda's door jolted Y/n back to reality, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The woman's unexpected gesture left Y/n grappling with a newfound awareness, a whisper of desire lingering in the air of the village of shadows. As Y/n settled into the room, the mysteries surrounding her and Mother Miranda only deepened, leaving her with more questions than answers as she succumbed to the beckoning embrace of sleep.

Miranda, having concluded her work in the lab, was making her way back to her room when she heard a faint murmur emanating from Y/n's room. A subtle hesitation gripped her, but an inexplicable concern propelled her forward. Something compelled Miranda to check on the younger woman.

Upon entering Y/n's room, the sight that greeted Miranda was disconcerting. Y/n thrashed in her sleep, as if caught in the clutches of an unseen adversary. Miranda, suppressing her usual stoicism, approached the bedside with a mix of curiosity and worry.

She leaned in, her voice a gentle murmur, "Y/n, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Y/n jolted awake, eyes wide and frantic, scanning the room. When her gaze finally settled on Miranda, relief and fear mingled in her expression. Her body trembled violently, and it was evident that the nightmare had left its mark.

Miranda reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Y/n's shoulder. "It's over now. You're safe," she murmured, attempting to ground the distressed woman.

However, as Miranda spoke, Y/n's eyes seemed to lose focus, the distant look of derealization clouding her gaze. She shook uncontrollably, caught in the aftermath of the vivid dream that still haunted her subconscious.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Miranda tried to connect with her, concern etched on her features. Y/n's distant gaze met hers, but the glazed-over look persisted, as if she were trapped in the remnants of a fading nightmare.

As Y/n struggled in the grip of derealization, her trembling hand reached out blindly, seeking something tangible to anchor her in reality. Miranda, attuned to the vulnerability of the moment, gently intercepted Y/n's searching hand, clasping it in her own.

With a tenderness that belied her usual demeanor, Miranda held Y/n's hand securely, occasionally squeezing it as if to reassure her. "Come back to me, little crow," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody cutting through the disorienting haze.

Miranda continued to speak softly, coaxing Y/n back to the present moment. "You're safe. Focus on my voice, on the touch of my hand. Breathe, my dear. In and out. In and out."

Y/n, still caught in the aftermath of the nightmare, slowly started to respond to Miranda's gentle guidance. Her vacant gaze began to regain focus, and Miranda maintained a steady presence, offering a lifeline to the shaken woman.

As Y/n gradually returned to the present, the tremors persisted, and Miranda adapted her approach. She guided Y/n to hold a piece of ice, the sudden cold a sensory shock that could help ground her. "Feel the cold, little crow. Focus on the sensation. It's real. You're here."

Miranda continued to talk Y/n through the grounding process, her voice a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "You're strong, my dear. You've faced nightmares before, and you'll conquer them again. Breathe with me. In and out. In and out."

Miranda, her concern evident, gently asked Y/n, "What happened, my dear?" Y/n, still recovering from the nightmare-induced haze, responded in a detached manner, "Nightmare. Don't wanna talk."

Miranda nodded understandingly, respecting Y/n's need for silence. "That's okay, my dear. Take your time," she reassured, her voice a soft whisper.

Sensing Y/n's need for grounding, Miranda delicately broached the topic of physical comfort. "Is it okay if I offer a bit more comfort, perhaps some physical contact?" she asked, her gaze steady.

Y/n, still shaken but willing to accept solace, nodded in agreement. "Yes, please," she replied, her voice a fragile whisper.

Miranda, with a tenderness that defied her usual demeanor, wiped the lingering tears from Y/n's cheeks. She then cupped Y/n's face, her touch gentle yet firm, providing a stabilizing anchor for the distressed woman. Y/n, seeking solace, leaned into Miranda's touch, finding a momentary refuge in the connection.

As the warmth of Miranda's hand enveloped her, Y/n felt a fleeting sense of security. Miranda, respecting the delicate balance, continued to caress Y/n's cheek, offering a silent reassurance through the language of touch.

In the quiet aftermath, Miranda broached another option. "Would you like to stay here, or would you feel more comfortable in my room?" she inquired, her concern unwavering.

Y/n, craving the presence of the person who had become an unexpected source of comfort, hesitated before answering, "I want to go to your room."

Miranda nodded, accepting Y/n's choice without judgment. "Very well, my dear. Let's go," she said, guiding Y/n toward her room, the shadows of the village concealing the complexities of their connection, woven through shared nightmares and moments of vulnerability.

Miranda guided Y/n to her room, a space that held the echo of enigmatic secrets. As they entered, Miranda ensured Y/n was comfortably settled in bed. The room, bathed in a soft glow from a small lamp, retained an air of serenity.

Miranda excused herself briefly to get ready for bed. Before leaving, Y/n, with a quiet vulnerability, whispered, "Please don't leave." Miranda, stroking Y/n's hair soothingly, assured her, "I'll be right back. Just getting ready."

True to her word, Miranda returned after a brief moment, finding Y/n still awaiting her presence. She dimmed the bright overhead light, leaving only the gentle illumination of the lamp on her side of the bed. The room now held a subtle warmth, a sanctuary against the shadows that lingered beyond.

Miranda slipped into bed, opening her arms in an unspoken invitation. "I'm here, only if you're comfortable," she whispered, her voice a soft reassurance.

Y/n, grateful for the offered comfort, responded by snuggling close to Miranda, wrapping an arm around her waist. She rested her face in the crook of Miranda's neck, finding solace in the reassuring scent that enveloped her – spicy, warm, and infused with the subtle allure of amber.

In the quiet intimacy of Miranda's room, Y/n found herself grappling with the intricacies of her emotions. She hesitated for a moment before expressing her inner turmoil. "I don't understand this," she admitted quietly.

Miranda, lying beside her, propped herself up on an elbow, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she inquired, the dim light of the room casting a gentle glow on their faces.

Y/n sighed, her gaze fixed on an indistinct point in the room. "I should be mad at you for what you did, for everything, but I can't seem to be," she confessed, a hint of confusion in her voice.

Miranda, understanding the weight of Y/n's words, reached over and gently covered them both with the comforter. With a tenderness that belied her usual stoicism, she traced random patterns on Y/n's back while her thumb caressed the younger woman's cheek. "Emotions are complex, my dear. Sometimes, it takes time to unravel them, to understand the why and the how," she offered, her voice a soothing murmur.

Y/n, comforted by Miranda's touch, hummed softly in response. They lingered in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the unspoken understanding between them weaving a delicate tapestry.

Breaking the quietude, Y/n finally spoke, "Thank you, Mother Miranda."

Miranda, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity, gently corrected, "You can call me Miranda, dear." She quirked an eyebrow, prompting Y/n to explain her gratitude.

Y/n hesitated for a moment before answering, "Thank you for saving me."

"You're welcome, my dear," Miranda responded, her gaze softening as she continued to trace patterns on Y/n's back. "You were worth saving, and the reason goes beyond what I had initially thought those weeks ago."

Y/n, looking at Miranda with a mix of curiosity and confusion, questioned, "What do you mean? What's the reason?"

Miranda, her expression momentarily contemplative, sighed softly. "It's a complex matter, emotions. I find myself quite taken with you, more so than I had anticipated. The reasons, the nuances, they extend beyond the boundaries I had set for myself."

Y/n's brows furrowed in genuine confusion. "Taken with me? But why? After everything that happened..."

Miranda, still tracing comforting patterns on Y/n's back, met her gaze.

"Emotions don't always adhere to logic, my dear. There's something about you that intrigues me, something that defies the usual calculations of my mind."

Y/n, grappling with the unexpected revelation, asked, "What do you mean by 'taken with me'? What are these feelings?"

Miranda, her usual enigmatic facade momentarily replaced by a hint of vulnerability, admitted, "I'm not entirely sure. It's a puzzle even I haven't fully deciphered. But there's a connection, a fascination that goes beyond the confines of my usual pursuits."

Y/n, despite the confusion, felt a sense of warmth in Miranda's admission. "Taken with me?" she repeated, a small smile playing on her lips. "I never thought I'd hear Mother Miranda say something like that."

Miranda chuckled softly. "Nor did I, my dear. But here we are, entangled in the complexities of emotions that neither of us fully understands."

Y/n, feeling a surge of confidence, sat up in bed, facing Miranda. The older woman's gaze fell on Y/n's now yellow eyes, and she couldn't help but comment, "Quite the vibrant change in eye color, my dear."

Y/n, embarrassed, buried her face in her hands. Miranda, true to her nature, seized the opportunity to tease. "Oh, come now. Don't hide those captivating eyes. They suit you, little crow."

After enduring enough of Miranda's teasing, Y/n playfully exclaimed, "Enough, Miranda. Seriously, stop."

Miranda, ever the provocateur, quirked an eyebrow and smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction she was provoking. But before she could respond, Y/n decided to take matters into her own hands—quite literally.

In a surprising move, Y/n shut Miranda up by leaning in and capturing her lips in a kiss. Miranda, initially caught off guard, quickly reciprocated, the tension between them shifting into an unexpected yet charged intimacy.

When they finally pulled apart, Miranda looked at Y/n with a mix of surprise and intrigue. The room was enveloped in a comfortable silence for a few moments, both women seemingly stunned by the sudden turn of events.

Miranda, not one to let a moment pass, pulled Y/n closer until she was straddling her lap. Y/n gasped at the sudden closeness, locking eyes with Miranda. The older woman smirked, reveling in the effect she had on the younger one.

As Y/n began to question Miranda, she was promptly cut off mid-sentence. Miranda, with a devilish glint in her eyes, decided actions spoke louder than words.

Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, the air thick with a newfound tension. Y/n, lacing her fingers through Miranda's hair, surrendered to the unexpected yet irresistible pull of desire, the village of shadows bearing witness to the unfolding of a connection that transcended the boundaries of reason and expectation.

In the months that followed, Y/n had embraced her role as the fifth lord with a fierce determination, earning a reputation for being cold, calculating, and intimidating. The powers granted by the Cadou had transformed her into a formidable force—rapid regeneration, the ability to shapeshift into a crow, mental manipulation, superhuman strength, speed, biological immortality, and unwavering durability. These powers mirrored those of Mother Miranda, forging a dynamic partnership that became the talk of the village.

The relationship between Y/n and Miranda had evolved into a public affair, sparking fear among the villagers. Disobeying any of the lords now meant facing not only the wrath of the individual lord but also the combined might of Mother Miranda and Y/n. The village quivered under the weight of their influence, and the dynamic duo maintained order with an iron grip.

Despite the fear they instilled, Mother Miranda and Y/n worked tirelessly with the other lords to resurrect Miranda's long-lost daughter. The process was intricate and delicate, requiring the combined powers and knowledge of the lords. Y/n, serving as a steadfast support by Miranda's side, became an integral part of the resurrection plan.

The relationship between Mother Miranda and Y/n deepened as they navigated the complexities of their roles, both in the village and in their personal lives. The shared goal of reuniting Miranda with her daughter forged a connection that surpassed the surface-level fears and rumors. Together, they faced the challenges posed by their powers, their duties, and the intricate web of emotions that bound them in the village of shadows.

#mother miranda x y/n #resident evil mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #resident evil village

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thelastofhyde · 1 year

Text

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.

#joel miller smut #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

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llamagoddessofficial · 8 months

Text

Already posted this on ao3, but I thought Tumblr would like it too. A lovely commission courtesy of Valacre- cecaelia Skull getting to show his spookier and scarier side.

Some TWs, for this! Bleeding, near drowning, kidnapping and general yandere behaviour, vomiting, being pressured into eating. Proceed with caution if these things bother you!

You felt calm. Very calm.

You really shouldn’t have felt calm. You were probably actively dying. Sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean abyss, bleeding from a head wound you sustained from thrashing against coral in a panic, you couldn’t tell if the way the world was darkening around you was from your consciousness slipping away or your depth increasing. Perhaps a bit of both.

... But... you just felt calm. The toxins had already well kicked into your brain.

That was the thing, about sinking too deep in scuba gear. At depths, pressure changed the properties of whatever gas was in your tank. Unless you had a special concoction, suited for the extreme conditions, a tank of normal air would gradually become more and more toxic to your body the further down you went.

The regulator in your mouth, the very thing keeping you alive... was also the thing slowly killing you.

Nitrogen narcosis, right? You thought, nearly giggling. We learnt about it in dive class. What a dumb name, for something that’s gonna kill me.

The fact that you were sinking didn’t bother you. The fact that you were dying bought no panic. In fact, you could hardly remember why you panicked before. Again, you nearly laughed... you were so dumb, it was entirely your own fault you were in this position. Chasing a beautiful fish over the reef, further and further, not even noticing your dive group disappearing from sight.

The nature had been so beautiful, the fish so pretty... the waters so calm.

You went over an edge, the coral shelving away. You hadn’t seen the bottomless, terrifying void until it had already opened up beneath you.

All struggling did was make you hit your head on a jagged coral branch. Nothing could stop the cold current from sucking you down.

You barely registered the plaintive beeping of the dive computer on your wrist. Quietly, uselessly, trying to warn you that you were getting too deep.

... Eventually, your regulator slipped out of your mouth.

Huh. Oh well.

...

Lights.

Lights filled your vision. Lights in a rainbow of colours, beautiful and vibrant, catching in the glass of your dive mask and casting across your face. The glimmering tucked around your fading mind, drawing it upward, drawing it away from the brink of nothingness.

A warm red colour moved closer, and closer, and closer. Pretty. The other nice colours still surrounded you, but the red was the most dominant of them. It was a welcome break, from the endless black and blue that you were sinking into... you felt big hands, on either side of your face, a comforting sensation.

Is this what dying is like? You stared at the warm red. It’s nothing like what people said it would be like.

You could hear a soft humming. You felt it in your core, too. The drunken, narcotic-esque sensation of the gases was slowly replaced by a much softer and more pleasant emotional state. Less giggly... more peaceful.

Something touched to your mouth. Warm. And suddenly, you could breathe again. A distant, disconnected sense of relief in the back of your head- like despite all of the easy feelings around you, deep down, you were still afraid to die.

... The red glow grew brighter. As it did, the peaceful feeling picked you up, and carried you away.

You were more than happy to let it.

///---///

Your eyes opened.

...

You didn’t expect that.

Immediately, panic rushed through you. It was so dark, so horribly dark - am I dead!? - you sat up, head rushing with a wave of nausea, your lips and fingers were heavy and tingly and your eyes felt as if they were swirling in your skull.

You instantly threw up seawater.

... A cave. You were in a cave. You let out a slow breath, it quivered slightly at the end, eyes darting around the chamber and desperately attempting to gather as much info as possible, hand coming up to wipe your mouth. The walls were black and glossy, seemingly volcanic, and the ground beneath you was dry.

... Wait. You forced yourself to slow down. How can I see?

You turned around. Just behind you, the dry rock shelved away into a large pool. And a faint, blueish-green light emanated from all around its edges, where the mirror-like black water met the stone. Algae? Plankton? Whatever it was, it was just enough light to see by, and it was undeniably beautiful.

... You shuffled over to the water’s edge. Kneeling by it, you leant over, and drew your hand through the still water- the cave grew brighter, as a trail of light followed your palm, flickering across your face and casting soft ripples over the sloped walls.

... The panic didn’t leave you completely. It probably wouldn’t, until you were curled up in your own bed at home. But... something about the bioluminescence helped your emotions settle. It was genuinely beautiful to look at, and the sound of moving water filled your ears, grounding you to the moment. You weren’t dead at the bottom of the seafloor, you weren’t being eaten by some terrible beast. Though you struggled to make sense of the cave’s dimensions in the low light, it certainly wasn’t small and you were grateful to be spared any nightmarish claustrophobia. Not to mention the fact that you were grateful you had light at all.

You took your hand out of the water. Watching the droplets fall, creating their own little flashes of light, made you suddenly realise something.

... The cave wasn’t the only thing that was dry. You were bone dry, too. You touched your dry hand all over yourself, but felt no damp. How long have I been asleep?

For a moment, you suddenly worried that you shouldn’t be breathing stale cave air, and you reached up as if to cover your mouth. But... you also realised that you had no idea how long you’d been unconscious for. Clearly, long enough for you to dry.

... Your wetsuit was gone. So was all of your scuba gear. You looked down at yourself, confused; dressed only in your swimsuit and rash vest, your tanks and hoses weren’t anywhere to be found. Even your dive computer was missing from your wrist.

Looking up only confused you further. No longer frightened about stale air or whether or not you were dead, you noticed there were clothes laid against the rocks closest to the pool edge. Clothes you didn’t recognise- clothes that absolutely weren’t yours. A slightly damp towel, and a very damp shirt, placed neatly and flat... as if someone had taken their sopping wet items off after coming out of the water, and laid them out to dry. Given how warm (yet still somehow fresh) the cave air felt, you could definitely see things drying.

Possibilities flashed through your mind. Did you do that, then pass out and forget? Or was there someone else here? You weren’t sure whether to be afraid of that possibility.

“... You’re not gonna get much done sitting on the floor.” You murmured to yourself, instinctively wanting to fill the silence. Regardless of your quietness your voice bounced off the cave walls. “Might as well have a look around.”

Eventually, you forced yourself to your feet. You were a little wobbly... but nonetheless, you were alive.

The cave was, to your surprise, empty aside from you. No other signs of life. No spiders, no worms, no bats or flies- just those smooth dark walls and the shine of the reflected pool light. It was a decently sized cave, more than enough room for you to stand to your full height and stretch your arms above your head. Gradually, you shuffled your way into the back; the roof edged down slightly, before rising up again. You supposed that counted as a second part of the cave.

The second chamber was still a good size, but it was much smaller than the first chamber. It felt a fraction cooler. The light from the pool had grown so dim that you had to use your hands to navigate, feeling the walls to make sure you didn’t fall over- very faintly, above you, you could make out a hole. Though no light was coming through, you felt fresh air on your face... you let yourself enjoy some relief at the knowledge that there was a source of breathable air. You weren’t going to suffocate.

... Though you felt around more, there was no third chamber, and no potential way out aside from the crack directly above you.

And... nobody else was in the cave.

The clothes by the pool must’ve been me. You thought, a strange sensation falling over you. Maybe I have a concussion...?

...

Wait. Your head.

You gasped aloud, remembering that you had hit your head on coral. You reached up to touch your head, expecting blood, expecting matted hair, expecting something, anything at all.

... Your fingers touched dry seaweed.

You paused. The seaweed... it wrapped all the way around your head. Like someone had wrapped it for you. And you felt no pain when you touched the area that you had hit against the coral- in fact, when you moved the seaweed aside, your fingers felt nothing. No scab, no scar, nothing. It was like you had never been hurt.

...

Something wasn’t right about this. The strange sensation grew, uneasiness intensifying. You stumbled back into the first chamber, eyes on the floor to make sure you didn’t trip over anything in the half-darkness, you wanted to look at those damp clothes again to be sure you didn’t recognise them.

You looked up, over to the bioluminescent pool, mostly to see clear light again and partially to try and calm yourself with its gentle blue glow.

... A large, glowing red eye stared back at you.

...

You were frozen. Completely. More than just your physical body- it felt as if the air around you stopped, as if your blood in your veins turned to ice, as if your heart paused in its beating and your breath turned to stone in your throat.

...

The eye didn’t disappear. It wasn’t a stress hallucination, it wasn’t a mirage. As the leadden moments ticked on, the eye remained.

Silent.

... The eye... was in a skull. It twitched faintly. Only half of the head was above the water, the algae faintly shining where the sides of its face met the water. A vicious crack in the top of its cranium... just from the size of the top half of its face, you knew it was huge.

A siren. It must be a siren. A siren big and powerful enough to recover from such a frightening and severe injury as a head crack.

Trapped alone in a cave with a siren.

The realisation filled you with a numb, hollow kind of fear. It spread through every limb like a pale fire eating through paper.

Am I breathing? I don’t know if I’m breathing.

...

The siren, silently, lifted a few more inches out of the water. The only sound was the faint rippling of the pool. Droplets rolled down a smile of razor teeth.

...

You screamed.

How could you not? Pinned in a small cave, with a beast right out of your nightmares. For a split second, a flash of confusion across its huge face. You tried to scramble away and back into the second chamber, somewhere you’d be out of its reach.

Its smile quickly returned. In an instant, massive black tentacles shot out of the water, sending up sprays of light; though you were aware of the siren’s size you had no idea of its dexterity. Before you could even turn around to run, tentacles seized your arms and legs; wet half-sentient masses of muscle wrapping tight around you. You felt the suckers press your skin, the slimy dark limbs squeezing and twisting, your bones suddenly felt so fragile and your screams so useless. Your voice just bounced off the smooth cave walls.

The tentacles pulled down, and instantly your legs gave way under you. He started dragging you toward him, toward the water- you watched in horror as his grin only grew, razor mouth and feverish red eye growing closer and closer. Death itself, pulling you in, images of those teeth driving into you made you begin to lose feeling in your extremities.

Like a child realising there was nowhere to run from the monster, you squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to look, you didn’t want to see the teeth getting any closer, you didn’t want to see the eye fill your vision. You didn’t want to see it coming.

The pulling stopped. You were numb, you’d drawn into your head, you didn’t know if you were even still screaming anymore.

Crack.

The sound of something breaking made any sound you might’ve been making catch in your throat.

...

... Except... you didn’t feel any pain. Seconds ticked by, and you didn’t feel the heat of blood, or the sensation of shock setting in. The tentacles hadn’t moved, still holding onto you tightly.

Whatever had crunched, it wasn’t your bones.

... You were still hyperventilating. But confusion allowed you to, slowly, open up your eyes.

The horrible grin was inches from your face, leering down at you. As was the equally horrible eye, bathing you in an overpowering red glow.

... But also in front of you, was two sides of a cracked sea urchin.

...

You stared blankly. The siren... he was holding them. One half in either massive clawed hand. It was a decently sized urchin, full of golden edible uni.

One hand was big enough to seize your face, crush your head.

...

The siren, upon getting no response from you, moved the split urchin a few inches closer. Like he was showing it to you. You tried to lean away, but he just responded by moving it slightly closer again.

... You glanced up at his face. It was a horrifying thing to behold. Jagged misshapen teeth, a half shattered skull... scars lining his body. That big iris, unblinkingly staring into your Soul. Not giving you an inch of space, as if he wanted to consume you just through eye contact.

...

Back down to the uni. Moments kept passing. Moments where he didn’t maul you to death.

...

... Wait.

No...

You pulled in a little frightened breath.

He didn’t like that, a flicker of something else crossing his expression. That same expression as earlier, when you screamed. Like he didn’t like it- like he was getting upset.

Memories were starting to return, now. Fuzzy recollections of lights filling your vision. Alive in a cave, with new clothes drying on the rocks, your injuries bound and healed...

... This siren had saved your life. Hadn’t he? Dressed your head wound, removed your heavy gear. He rescued you, put you in what must be his cave.

... He was trying to feed you.

Oh no.

You didn’t have a choice, did you? You felt like if you didn't eat the food, he would eat you. Slowly, your hands came up, they were shaking almost comically... you reached forward, taking one of the sea urchin halves.

Judging from his reaction, it was the correct move. His unbearable smile inched wider. And across his tentacles, a dim pulsation of green and yellow light, for seemingly no reason other than happiness.

You didn’t have anything to remove the edible parts with, so you had to use your fingers. Your hands were shaking so much that it took a few tries to actually get it out. But you managed, eventually.

... It was good uni. Incredibly fresh, salty, slightly sweet. But you had to force yourself to eat it. You felt intensely sick from the fear, your head was swimming and several times you had to suppress your gagging. Don't upset him. Just eat it. The food, though the sweetness did ease some of your dizziness, was impossible to enjoy in any way; the entire time you ate, the siren stared at you. He had an intensity only a wild beast could muster. Inches from you, so close you felt his massive breaths washing over your face... watching every. Single. Bite.

... It couldn't have taken long. But it felt like it took hours. Finally, you swallowed the last bit, and to your immense relief he didn’t try to make you eat the other half of the urchin.

He seemed pleased- for now.

... His free hand lifted up. You flinched, closing your eyes again; you felt a large claw trace over your cheek.

It only confirmed your fears.

Sirens don't feed just anyone. They fed their children, their family, or their...

... Their mate.

The tentacle grip around you finally eased. Slowly but surely, pacified by your eating, he withdrew; though the wet limbs dragged across you as they retreated, like he was savouring every moment of contact. The red light of his eye became less and less dominant, the calming blue of the pool returning to your vision.

... He made a sound. It sounded like a deep growl. But given the grin on his massive face, and his obviously pleased disposition... it was probably closer in nature to a purr.

He slipped under the water’s surface, leaving only a glowing ripple behind.

...

... You forced yourself to slow your breathing. You forced yourself to stop thinking about the terrifying implication of what you’d just experienced, but nothing could stop a few tears slipping down your face, nor a few shuddering breaths escaping from your chest.

A siren... was keeping you. Probably as his mate. Not just any siren- a massive, terrifying cecaelia, who clearly had no intention of letting you go. That's why he left you with most of your things, but took all your scuba gear, wasn't it? So you couldn't dive out of this cave.

No... no, you couldn’t think about that. You swallowed the fear, only letting a few more frightened sobs free before scrubbing the tears off your cheeks.

This isn’t ideal. But... you’re alive, at least. You thought. You wouldn’t have survived if he didn’t intervene. So this is better than nothing, right?

Yeah. Yeah, right. You bit the inside of your cheek. You needed to be thankful you were, at least, alive.

You’re alive. Your wounds have all been tended to and healed. You’re safe, somewhere warm and dry, with a supply of fresh air. The giant siren might be freaky, but he bought you food, and even clothes.

He clearly wants to keep you alive. You’re gonna be okay.

“I’m gonna be okay.” You said, weakly... to nobody except the cave walls.

///---///

Skull watched, silently, as the boat moved further and further away. Only once it was out of sight did he allow himself to move through the water again, iris re-igniting. If it had come too close to the den entrance he would’ve attacked.

... He was closer to shore than he liked to be. But it was important he was close to fresh air, and places he could source human things from. For you.

His chest... it warmed so much, at the thought of you. His mate. He had been alone so long, desperate for so long. Now, he finally had company.

... Sure, you were afraid. But it was only natural for a potential partner to be resistant to first advances. It just meant he needed to keep you in the den, and prove he’d be a strong, capable mate. Right? One of his tentacles lashed out, catching a fish. The other divers with you, the members of your pack, were clearly idiots- they didn’t protect you. They didn’t even notice when you were in distress. They didn’t save you when you were hurt... not like he did.

He felt himself warming even more, pride returning, tentacle immediately crushing the fish. He rescued you. He held you close in your weakest moment, and filtered air into his mouth for you. He stemmed your bleeding, he cradled you in his arms, saved you from the brink of death. He held you close for hours, blanketing you with healing magic until he was certain you were stable, nearly killing himself from the exhaustion of ensuring you would be safe.

He was a good mate. Fish blood seeped out into the water around him. You would see, eventually, how good he was. All he had to do was keep you in one place, and prove it to you, no matter how much you fought him.

All he needed was time.

#commissions #tw near death #tw vomiting #some folks on ao3 raised the very important point that skull shouldnt be feeding her raw fish #but dont worry! hes a very conscientious mate who understands his wife's dietary requirements #it's one of the reasons he selected a cave so close to land #he can go and steal human food when nobody is looking #isnt he so thoughtful and forward-planning??

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forcedftmtf · 1 month

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a scenario i keep having:

i imagine being in a crowded space, there are a lot of people having a good time, and then there is you and me. you have me pressed against a wall, still in sight but not the center of attention.

youre hands roam my unwilling body as i try to get away, when i try to scream, your hand reaches up and grabs my throat, restricting my breathing, and forcing me to keep quiet.

you pull my pants and panties down my legs, leaving my bottom half exposed, and that’s when some people start to notice.

it gets the attention of others until everyone is watching me be used by you. they watch me struggle against you as i slowly begin to lose consciousness, but that doesn’t stop you, if anything it makes you harder.

when i am on the brink of passing out you let go, and i fall to the floor, breathing heavily. in one gasp, you shove your hard cock down my throat.

i choke and gag, but you dont relent, pushing me passed my limits and shoving yourself down my throat. when you’ve had your fun, you yank me off my my hair and throw me to the floor, your foot pressing my face into the ground as you offer me up to everyone at the party

#cnc free use #cnc k!nk #free use slvt #r4p3 m3 #r4p3b4it #rap3 fantasy #rough cnc #forced detrans #rapekink #rapetoy

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circyexistforcontent · 1 year

Text

IMPOSTER AU! BUT WITH AN OBLIVIOUS GOD READER

✿ trigger warnings: cultish behavior, yandere's, mentions of weaponry, attempted murder, religious themes, god reader being an idiot because they don't know someone is impersonating them

✿ notes: the reader is actually the god of teyvat, this isn't an isekai story. so if you don't like it I suggest you scroll by.

It's been a millennium since you have descended in Teyvat. Mostly for the reason you had other out worldly matters to deal with, so you didn't have time to visit your acolytes or take care of teyvat as a whole. So you decided to create a small extension of yourself, Celestia, to observe Teyvat while you were gone.

After unloading your work you decided that a small vacation wouldn't hurt. After all, a god deserves to rest too. Should you make yourself known to your acolytes? You probably shouldn't, some of them can be really...suffocating *Cough* Morax *Cough* and they might be busy with their own respective nations.

You decided to fuse back with Celestia, feeling some of Celestia's memories flood your mind and- oh my god. What the hell happened?

When did your acolytes start a war???

Most of your acolytes died a few centuries after you left. Some of your acolytes were so unbecoming at the time, and all you could feel is disappointment. They swore to themselves they would be peaceful, why did they decide to turn their back on you?

You decided once you descend to Teyvat, you will give them a lecture about promises and being truthful to your words.

You made sure to be careful when transferring a piece of your consciousness to Teyvat. Transferring a small piece of your power was hard enough without accidentally exploding the vision holder, if you brought even a fourth of yourself to the domain it will collapse. You can feel the familiar sensation of entering a world, feeling the breeze slowly brush past you as the sunlight beams above your form.

Monstadt, what use to be a frozen wasteland now became a city flourishing with people and plant life. Based on what you can remember, Barbatos, your little wisp friend, has now ascended to godhood and has dominion over Monstadt. You can remember how happy your little wind wisp would be every time you come to visit him after a long day of answering prayers and managing the constellations. He always loved head pats, and he fits in your pocket too.

Maybe you should visit him first, just like in the old times. You started walking through the forest, greeting every slime you walked past and every hillichurl that would see run towards you. Some have even offered you trinkets! Though you sadly couldn't wear it since it was on the brink of breaking apart, you promised to cherish it for centuries to come.

Sunlight shines through the end of the forest, but as you made your way to the exit an arrow whizzes through you. Not even getting the chance to make contact with your flesh (it's not like this form even has flesh), you saw a figure above a tree branch before it gracefully landed on the ground. You saw that they were holding a bow.

"Stay where you are, imposter!"

'Imposter?' You thought, what was she talking about? "Excuse me Amber, but who are you referring to?" Amber seem to be tense the moment you said her name. She prepared her bow again, making sure it's pointed to your head.

"How do you know me? And I was referring to you. You're trying to impersonate the Divine Creator." You made an 'aah' sound before waving dismissively, giving her a care free smile.

"You must be mistaken, you see I AM the Divine Creator. I know I haven't descended for a long time and this might be sudden but I promise I will make up for all the time I was go-"

Before you can try and reason more with Amber, an explosive plushie was thrown at you.

#🍒sagau #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #sagau brainrot #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #self aware genshin impact #zhongli x reader #venti x reader #sagau venti #sagau zhongli #sagau amber

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reqxxyt · 1 year

Text

snowed in d.r

[unedited] requests open !

pairings: daniel r. x f!reader

warnings: none (?)

masterlist

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Usually, when someone asks another to come over at 12 am directly, it’s expected to end up in a bed. When I got the text from Daniel to come over at 12:15 am, I didn’t think much of the situation thinking it was just out of boredom. That’s how I ended up at his apartment, snowed in. He didn’t think to tell me that the chances that this would happen were high seeing as there were ice on the roads and the streets were barely walkable.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here” My breath could be seen as I bundled myself up into what was meant to be a heated blanket he offered the first hour when the electricity was going but now was just a regular blanket after the power outage.

“I didn’t want to be alone” he argued in disbelief that I would leave him. I only rolled my eyes, still shivering while watching the downloaded movie that was playing on his laptop on the brink of dying. We stayed underneath the same blanket for heat support meanwhile my own heart was pumping abnormally fast each time his skin would brush against my own leaving harsh goosebumps.

An intimate scene came on screen, having the two main characters near kiss underneath the starlight night. Without realizing, I leaned closer being invested in the movie until the laptop suddenly shut off.

“What.” I said pushing my upper body back where Daniel had been leaning against the couch now having his front touch my back. I groaned now too invested in the movie wanting it back on. Daniel chuckled beside me and I lifted myself up, allowing part of the blanket to drop on the edge of the couch. “I should just leave, what am I still doing here?”

“You wouldn’t dare” his jaw fell and I only glared in response ready to say yes, not being serious. “Fine. Let me walk you outside then”

My heart stopped for a second, thinking if I should take back what I said not being serious about me leaving. But maybe he was tired of my complaints so I headed to the door with him tracing behind me.

I stepped foot outside the apartment building and immediately felt snow rush to my neck, crawling downwards. I shrieked at the feeling before turning around seeing Daniel with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oh you’re so dead” I accepted the request and grabbed a fistful of snow before chucking it at him, plastering it straight to his face making me laugh while he coughed up some remains from his mouth. We kept throwing snow balls at each other laughing whenever one tripped just to fall right afterward.

Heavy laughter could be heard all the way from down the street if one tried to intervene but no one would walk out while snowing this badly. As I went to pick up another snowball ready for the best throw of my life, I turned my head not being able to spot Daniel.

“Daniel?” I called out, feeling my throat get itchy amd could already hear my voice sounding horsed. As I was about to turn to check behind me, I felt a giant body weight land on top of me only to spot the person I had been looking for laying on me. He laughed while I groaned trying to shove him away. “Get off”

“Never going to happen” he booped my nose and it finally settled the position we were laid in. My breath slowed down as he stared down at me with soft eyes, our visible breath connected with one another as my hands that were before trying to shove him, comfortably laid on my chest not sure where to lay them.

My heart started to pick up its pace the longer we lasted in the position, wishing he would be the first to move whether that was forward or backwards.

“Your nose is really red” was the only thing he whispered to me. Finally my consciousness came back as I shoved him to the side making a joke out of it in fear he didn’t mean anything by laying on me.

“You owe me food for practically killing me” I said getting myself off the ground. He laughed nervously before following me to the car garage.

“You really shouldn’t drive in this weather” his voice filled with only concern, I looked to my car before looking back at his pleading eyes and finally caved in.

“It should’ve been at my house” was all I could say as we went back inside feeling a small relief that it was a bit warmer compared to outside. I didn’t want to mention what happened only 5 minutes ago and I doubt he wanted to either so we stayed silent the entire way back to his apartment.

My phone had been on the brink of dying for the last hour and I refused to use it knowing I didn’t want a dead battery so there wasn;t much to do as the morning started to rise.

“Want to go to sleep?” I heard Daniel ask behind me as we entered immediately wrapping myself in the blanket. I nodded and followed him to the bedroom thanking myself for my earlier decision on wearing sweatpants and not jeans. Neither of us said anything as we lie down, on opposite sides of the bed having trouble going to sleep with the constant reminder of the cold.

The silence was loud. I tried going to sleep but the constant teeth grinding heard from the other side was starting to get irritating. “Daniel?”

“Yeah” was barely above a whisper, we turned to each other and without much light in the room I could still see cheeks turning a pink tone.

“You're shivering,” I said with a concerned tone pushing him the heavy weighted blanket that I had. “We can share”

“Thanks” he said huddling up closer to me but with enough safe distance to have both of us feel comfortable.

Hours passed by and the sun finally shined through the window, little warmth entering the bedroom as I started to wake up. I felt arms wrapped around my sides, confused I look to above to be showcased a VIP of Daniel's face.

Immediately, my face flushed and I wanted to get out. Our arms had been intertwined, mine wrapped around his own torso meanwhile our legs were wrapped around each other. I physically couldn’t see a way out of his grasp so I stayed there knowing how grumpy he’ll be if woken up.

Half an hour passed by and I stayed, not moving. Contemplating all my past life choices. My heart kept going fast every time I would glance at him and he would mumble something.

“It’s not nice to stare” was the first audible response I heard before I jumped at the sound quickly getting out of his grasp, thankful he woke up but also missing the warmth that his body brought. “You okay?” He asked seeing my stumbles out of the bed. I only nodded trying to get myself to calm down.

“Sorry if I woke you up” I quickly apologized as he slowly adjusted himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed having a personal heater. "His smile made me want to jump out the window. Not my best idea considering we were on the third floor. I sat o. The edge of the bed having my hands laid flat on both sides with my back facing him. I heard sounds of him moving before I finally felt his hand graze my own sending goosebumps up my arm.

“What are you doing Daniel?” I asked, turning to see him still playing with my hand, tracing the outline before looking up at me with curious eyes. His gaze kept drifting downwards to my lips, debating whether to do it himself. “Daniel-”

Lips interrupted me mid sentence as I felt his lips harshly land on mine, bringing his hands on both sides of my face. With not much hesitation, my lips followed, crazing for more as I could feel my own stomach doing summer salt flips with the way my heart had no intention of slowing down. The kiss turned gentle as he had brought himself forward, now having to lean down to reach me.

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that sooner” his voice made my heart stop for a moment, loving the way it sounded from it being early in the morning and the intense make out we just had. I stayed silent, not sure how to approach this. “Y/n? Don’t tell me I just threw our four year friendship because I couldn’t handle my emotions”

“I’m glad you did do just that” With a small smile, his own brightened.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine

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storiesforftm · 2 months

Text

Astarion x Masc! Reader

The Brink on The River Bank

(Not Requested)

Disclaimer: this story may have some lore not relevant to the lore of BG3 and/or D&D. I have not completed BG3, but figured this would be a fun story to write anyways! I hope you enjoy.

As my wound worsened by the hour, I could feel myself getting weaker, and with no one around, I knew death was certain. I clutched my wound with both my hands, holding onto my side where I had been cut deeply. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The sound of a river nearby. I knew if I were to die, I’d want to die somewhere peaceful. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I could gaze upon the stars one last time. As I approached the river, I collapsed onto the ground, and couldn’t find the strength to get back up. I had to crawl the short distance to be beside the creek.

I laid on my back, allowing my hand to touch the water, washing off my bloodstained hands. I could feel my eyelids droop, I could feel death approaching me slowly, like an animal hunting it’s prey. Slowly, quietly, then it pounces. I was going in and out of consciousness, and soon, found myself in a world of dreams.

My dreamscape had been interrupted by a sharp pain in my throat. It was almost painful enough for my adrenaline to kick in so I could fight. But I couldn’t. The initial pain was the worst part. Now, I hardly felt a thing. I allowed myself to relax, believing that some animal was now eating me alive, but soon, everything would be over.

To my surprise, I woke up the next morning, under the shade inside a tent. In my confusion, I set out to discover where I was. As I went to open the tent’s door, I heard a voice, strictly telling me to not touch it.

“Ah, ah, ah!” The white haired man started.

“Where am I?” I stuttered, “Who are you?”

“Now now, let’s just take a seat and I’ll explain everything,” the man said. I took a seat the farthest away from this stranger I just met. He sat opposite of me, his eyes almost peering into my soul.

“First of all, my name is Astarion. Second of all, last night, I found you. Just by the riverside. You were almost dead.” That’s when I noticed I had no pain where my wound was. I had almost completely forgotten about it. I lifted my shirt to take a look, and it was gone. Healed.

I was amazed, and I looked at Astarion. “What happened to me? I thought I was as good as dead?”

“You would’ve been, had you not placed your hand in the water.”

“Wait, I don’t understand?” I said, confused.

“You placed a bloody hand in the river, and as it washed off, the blood went down the river. I found you that way, by following the blood trail in the river. It les me straight to you,” he let out a small chuckle,” you didn’t even flinch when I bit you! Ha!”

“Wait, that was… you? I felt it, but went numb shortly after.”

“Yes, we’ll, darling, you were almost dry. You were bleeding out so much, I’m surprised you even made it as far as you did.”

As he spoke his words, I took in all his features. His white hair, his red eyes, his pointy teeth. A vampire. This only triggered me to start exploring my own features, mostly by feeling my teeth with my tongue. Two sharpened canine teeth sat in the front, and I looked around for any reflective surface.

In almost a panic, I get up and try to find a mirror or spoon or anything I could see myself in. I was rummaging through anything Astarion had, when his footsteps kept getting closer. He held out a mirror to me, and I took it from his hands. I peered into it hesitantly, but was shocked when I could see everything behind me, but I couldn’t see me.

“Did you turn me into a vampire?” I asked hesitantly, my back facing him, my arms to my side. Slowly, I turned to face him.

“Yes, I did, darling, and I must say, you make a handsome vampire at that. Your eyes are the most astonishing shade of red I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you save me?”

“I guess in some ways, yes. But if you’re asking if I wanted to change you, the answer is also yes. When I smelled your blood, I traced it to you. I was hunting alongside the woods when the smell started coming down the stream. It was the most delicious smelling blood I have ever had the pleasure of smelling.”

I listened to him tell me how he found me, how he saved me, and how he carried me back to his tent. He explained that he stayed by my side while I was turning, and he was preparing to tell me about everything once I woke up. He carefully sealed up the opening of the tent so no daylight could reach me, and so I wouldn’t accidentally burn myself when I awoken scared.

He explained how he had his mirror ready, so I could understand quicker, and he brought me back up to date. At this point, I felt a deepening burning in the back of my throat. I started to feel weak again, throughout the day. And as night came, Astarion helped me hunt for the first time.

He taught me how to be stealthy on my feet, as to not scare off prey, and how to be persuasive and confident. I hugged him after our first full day together, and thanked him for saving me. To my surprise, he hugged me back, and assured me that I would always be welcome if I needed a friend or any advice, although I don’t plan on leaving him any time soon. I’m glad that now, I have a second chance at life.

#x male! reader #x ftm reader #astarion #astarion x ftm reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x tav #astarion x male! reader #baulders gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x trans reader #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion bg3 #bg3 imagine

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stevesbestgirl · 11 months

Text

Dreamweaver

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore

A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)

5775 words

"Dream."

Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.

"Dream!"

He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.

"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."

"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."

"Forget your gallery, come here."

Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.

Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"

Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"

Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.

"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."

Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."

"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."

Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."

Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.

Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.

Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.

Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.

His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."

Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.

"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."

"Are you going to speak to her?"

"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."

Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"

"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."

After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.

Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.

Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.

Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.

A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.

"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.

"Approach, Y/L, L/N."

She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.

It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.

She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"

The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.

She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"

The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."

She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"

He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."

It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.

"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.

His voice remained level, "Yes."

"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.

There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.

It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.

But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.

A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-

"You should not be here."

Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."

She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?

His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.

"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."

His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.

She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.

She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.

And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.

"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.

"And why are you here again, Death?"

"To catch you in the act, obviously."

Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.

Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.

The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"

"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."

"Do you spend this long on every one?"

She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."

Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."

"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."

Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."

"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"

Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.

He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.

"Dream, what did you do?"

Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."

Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"

"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."

There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"

Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."

Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.

"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"

"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."

Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"

"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."

"Of course, brother."

That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.

"Approach, Y/N."

She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.

A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.

"Dream King."

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."

Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."

"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."

She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.

Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."

She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."

She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.

Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"

She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."

"I apologize."

Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"

He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"

Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.

She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.

Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"

Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."

His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"

She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"Simply an observation."

"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"

"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.

"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.

There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."

She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."

His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.

"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."

She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."

His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."

She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"

"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."

"Your sister?"

"Death."

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.

"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"

"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."

"Dreams affect human development?"

That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"

"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.

"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."

The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."

"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."

"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."

"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"

"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."

She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.

"Are you alright?"

"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.

"No."

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.

After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."

Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"

Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."

And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.

As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.

"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.

Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."

The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.

"Unless-"

"Unless." Dream was unamused.

"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."

If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.

"You believe such foolishness, sister?"

"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"

"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"

"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."

"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.

"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."

"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."

Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."

"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.

"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."

Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."

"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.

"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.

All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.

The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.

The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.

There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.

She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.

But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.

Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.

"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.

"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.

She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."

"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.

Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."

She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.

"I'm sure you have questions."

She nodded, "A couple, yes."

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"

Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.

She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."

That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."

She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"

He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."

"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"

He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."

The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.

Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"

Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."

Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.

"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.

"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.

She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"

She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."

"You are quite skilled."

He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"

She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."

She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.

She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.

So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."

A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."

Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."

He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.

She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dreamweaver #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #one shot

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