Your heart thundered in your chest. Everything was a blur, tinged with redness. Redness from blood that dripped from your chin and onto the ground.
You couldn't clearly remember what had happened. It was a nice and sunny day. You had gone on one of your regular walks. Admittedly, today was a little different.
Your Orc Boyfriend, amazing and wonderful as ever, had brought you back a necklace. He said he found it in a cave full of abandoned clothes and jewels. “Probably left by some bandits or something,” he’d explained.
When you questioned the stolen item, he nonchalantly waved his hand. “That stuffs been abandoned for years. There was a thick layer of dust on the chest.”
With that in mind, you put on the necklace and hadn’t taken it off since.
Now it was gone. Scratch marks on your neck from long fingernails were now rising on your skin, red and angry.
The camp was finally in sight. It gave you a burst of energy. Ignoring the pain, you took off into a run. No longer being able to hold back the tears, you released a wail when you entered the camp.
Your Orc was over with his fellows, eating some kind of meat. He dropped it at the sight of you, rushed over and caught you in his arms. “Love? What happened?” He asked, eyes darting all over your body, putting pressure on the gash on your forehead.
Other Orcs took off in search of the healer, while others crowded around you, bombarding you with questions:
“Who did this to you?”
“They’ll pay for what they did, won’t they?”
“Yeah, of course. We’ll give them a real beating.”
“Everyone shut up!” hollered your Orc.
Once your wounds were tended to and you had calmed down, you and your Orc Boyfriend, along with his group of fellows, all sat in your shared tent, clutching a mug of warm tea in your hands. Since you were in a much calmer mindset now, the memories had come back to you.
“I went to the town, just over the hill.” You started. Instantly, some Orcs snorted and growled, “Fucking humans, always doing this kind of shit.”
“Silence!” Your Orc commanded. They fell silent as you continued.
“There were some noblewomen. They saw my necklace and told me to give it to them.” You gripped onto the mug. “When I said no, they told me I must have stolen it from some other noble woman that I worked for. And…” You fell silent as tears welled up in your eyes again.
The Orc stayed quiet as they watched your tears roll down your cheeks. Your Orc was so quiet you could have sworn that he’d left the tent.
A loud clap caused you to jump. “Everyone out.” Your Orc said.
All the Orcs looked at him like he was mad. “What? You can’t just-”
“It’s my living quarters, everyone out!” He snapped.
Grumbling and casting disdained glances over their shoulders, all the Orcs left. Except for your boyfriend. He sank to his knees by the bedside, head face down to the sheets. “They will pay for this,” He growled.
He went to leave. To go, order his others to prepare for an attack on the village, to avenge you and restore his honour. But your hand grasped onto his. “Don’t go.” You pleaded. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Your Orc stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, down at you on the bed, he wondered how anyone could have tried to hurt you. He returned to his position beside you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “They will pay for this.” Your Orc promised you.
“I don’t want to hear about that right now.” You said. “Please… just… don’t go.”
And he didn’t. When you’d finished your tea and curled up under the covers of your bed, he sat there until you closed your eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
From that night onwards, he vowed to never let you leave the camp alone. Lest something like this happen again. He would never allow harm to come to you ever again. If they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him and his kin first.
Revenge could wait. The softness of your breathing was more than enough to soothe his angry heart.
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"look what you do to me" with ye olde cregan I BEG
worthy of you.
Cregan thinks his little brother is not worthy of a woman like you, which is why he takes the opportunity to show you that he is the one for you.
MASTERLIST
PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader / (Side) Masc!OC x Fem!Reader.
TAGS — smut (f!oral sex, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, OC is a terrible man, older!cregan, widower!cregan, age gap (early 20s and early 30s). If something is missing let me know!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE — first of all, a big thank you to my gorgeous @bucknastysbabe for being my beta reader and helping me edit this, ily!! i got a bit inspired by this plot and it's longer than i expected💀
Thank you Bel for sending this request because i loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy it!!🤍
WORD COUNT — 4.3k
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.
How cruel were the gods when they put you in his brother's arms instead of the ones you craved the most.
The first time that Lord Stark laid his eyes upon you, he felt the air leaving his lungs, and his voice being caged inside his throat. His eyes immediately widened at the beautiful sight of you, bewitched by the way you so politely greeted him, and mesmerized by the way you uttered his name. Cregan was in awe, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut and the quickened pace of his heart as he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla coming from your hair. He wondered if you were some kind of nymph, effortlessly enchanting him with a single glance.
After the loss of his wife, few were the women who managed to catch his eye. A couple of balls were made, and they all resulted in the same thing; a group of ladies following him around, showering him with shallow compliments and words that he did not wish to hear.
How lucky he felt when he saw you walking in with your father, Lord Reed, into the ballroom, and how miserable he left that night after learning you were betrothed to his young brother; Edrik, a careless young man who —according to Lord Stark— is not worthy of you. At all. He's ruthless, the opposite of a chivalrous man. Cregan knows that while you were waiting for him for dinner, he's fucking some whores in brothels and paying with gold that he would steal from Cregan's chambers. He despised him. He was ashamed of him, and his behaviour towards you. You were a lady, a delicate and sweet girl who could have found someone better.
Someone like himself, he would think.
At that moment, while you were nervously chewing your nails sitting at the small table of your chambers as you drank tea, Cregan was out there searching for his younger brother, and trying to force him back to the Winterfell castle. That very same day was supposed to be your wedding, and the groom was nowhere to be seen. You knew better than to cry, you didn't want to suffer for him anymore; so you just sat there, slowly tapping your fingertips against the delicate porcelain of the cup, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about something else.
At that point, you were just begging for him to be alive and well. Nothing more.
A few minutes passed when you saw Cregan entering your chambers with his grey eyes staring intensely at you as he walked inside. His heavy boots stumped against the wooden floor, prompting you to stand up a bit too quickly. You noticed the pitiful look in his eyes when he noticed you were still wearing that white wedding dress; his heart shattered for you.
“Did you find him?” you dared to speak first. Somehow, your voice came out colder than both of you expected.
“We did,” he nodded. “He was in a brothel… drunk and enjoying his last hours of freedom, as he said.” The annoyed tone of his voice was quite clear to hear as he spat every single word with rage and even shame.
Gods forgive him for this insurmountable wrath towards his kin.
“Where is he now?” The question slipped out of your lips merely out of habit.
“In his chambers, being bathed by one of the maids,” Cregan explained, unable to bear the vision of your tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. He sought to look at a place over your shoulder, just to ease the ache in his chest.
It wasn't sadness, not at all. It was ire; he knew it. It was supposed to be your special day, and your betrothed decided to ruin it, though you were not surprised.
“Is it the maid that sucks his cock every morning? Or is it the one that let him fuck her in the arse?” you mockingly mentioned, lifting the cup of tea and sipping it slowly. The knot in your throat was becoming unbearable, too tight and barely letting you utter a word.
Cregan's eyes softened with sorrow. “My lady,” he started, daring to take a step closer to you. The small rounded table was the only thing keeping you two apart. “Allow me to apologize for the misbehaviour of my brother, you deserve the utmost respect from whoever is lucky enough to marry you. Edrik is childish, and his actions often bring shame to our family name.”
“You shall not apologize for your brother's mistakes,” you softly said, sighing tiredly at this situation repeating over and over again. “You're an honourable man, Lord Stark, it's a pity your brother is not even half of the man you are.”
Cregan felt his heart tapping against his chest, even under those thick layers of fur, he was still able to hear how fast it was beating. His eyes briefly looked away from you out of shyness, feeling so flustered by your mere presence. Oh, gods, this was excruciating; seeing you there with your beautiful eyes staring up at him, looking so fragile and bewitching. The white dress fit you perfectly, you were radiant that night, and he cursed at his brother for looking down on you.
Edrik was a dumb boy. Luckily, Cregan was a wise man.
“It pains me to know he doesn't appreciate you,” he muttered as he took unhurried steps closer to you. “You deserve so much more.”
“It's the best I can get, I suppose,” you shrugged. “At least my betrothed is indulging his uncontrollable lust with whores instead of forcing himself on me. It could be worse.”
“But it's not supposed to be bad at all,” Cregan discussed. “A husband has to provide for his wife, and treat her with respect.”
His hand approached your left cheek and he placed it there, cupping your face. Your soft skin felt his calloused fingers and suddenly all the air of your lungs vanished. Your lips parted, and that simple gesture blurred Cregan's mind with the urge to devour them. As he looked down at you, you could see in his eyes that there was a rare sparkle in them. It was so mesmerizing.
“I guess you're asking too much from your brother, my Lord.”
He scoffed.
“If only the gods had been more merciful of us, you would be my wife instead,” he mentioned with a wistful tone. He took another step, and now you were able to smell the pine scent from his clothes. “We probably would be in our private celebration by now.”
You sighed delightedly as his thumb went to your lower lip, lightly touching it as he glanced at it. Falling in love with him had been so easy; he was so kind, so courteous and gentle. Whenever his brother was cruel and mean to you, he was always there to make you feel good. Many were the times you imagined this wedding being with him instead of Edrik.
“I would be looking at your beautiful body as you remove this gown. Only for me to see,” he whispered, his touch going downwards until he grabbed the pearls around your neck. “I would take my time to appreciate every single inch of your skin, touching you… kissing you, making sure you know you're the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.”
His face leaned towards you, and you felt his nose rubbing against your cheek as you closed your eyes. His deep, low voice sent shivers down your spine while your mind was imagining every single word that came out of his plump lips. His touch reached down your sides until you felt his strong grip on your waist.
Cregan took a deep breath as he smelled your sweet perfume; he couldn't help but sigh.
“I would pleasure you in so many ways,” he continued, his voice so raspy it made your knees weak. “With my mouth, my hands… until all that comes from your lips is my name.”
“Cregan…” you breathed out, and he hummed in delight.
“Yes, just like that.”
You dared to open your eyes, meeting his and seeing how they were dilated and glazed with lust; yours were probably in the same state. You were able to feel the heat between your legs, almost causing you to squirm to make you feel something. Something to sate the intense desire crawling around your body.
“I would do so many things to you, my darling,” he murmured. “Would you like me to do them?”
You nodded.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” you replied, embarrassingly fast.
His hands went to your back, calloused fingers finding their way to untie your gown. Your chest was against his, and the closeness did nothing but increase your desperation to have him.
“My brother doesn't deserve you, does he? He is just a stupid boy, and you deserve a man.” You felt the dress loosening around your body and you swallowed hard at the expectation. “Please, let me be that man for you…”
You were unable to bear it any longer, the temptation being too much. You closed the distance between you two at the same time he started to slip the dress down your body — until it pooled around your feet. His lips fit perfectly against yours, they were slightly chapped due to the cold, yet they felt heavenly. He moaned against your mouth when you boldly deepened the kiss by grabbing Cregan’s nape and pulling him closer to you, all while his hands pressed your lower back.
It was slow and passionate, taking your breath away as he claimed your mouth with his tongue, swirling against yours and stealing soft whimpers from you. Soon, he grabbed your thighs to lift you and sat you on the table; the cup of tea spilling to stain your white undergown, you couldn't care less. His lips on yours were all you could think of as his hands gripped your body, pressing you against him.
The thin skirt of your undergown lifted as you wrapped your legs around Cregan’s waist, and his hands began to sneak under it to touch the soft skin of your thighs. He left a heat on your body with his fingertips, one that made you desperate to feel him. All while his mouth was reluctant to leave yours, obsessed with the sweet taste of you. He would unconsciously groan, and as he pressed his hips against yours you could easily notice the effect you had on him.
He pulled away to take a look at you, he found your swollen lips glistening with remains of your and his drool. Your eyes were sparkling as stars and your breathing growing agitated. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Cregan Stark had fallen in love with you once again at that moment.
“You should belong to me instead,” he huskily said. “I should be the one who takes your body-”
“Do it,” you interrupted without doublethinking it. Your tone was decided and demanding, it shocked him a little.
“Oh, my little one…” he murmured with a strained voice as if the thought had left him breathless.
“I don't want your brother… I never did.” Your confession drew a small smile on his lips. “Since day one all I've wanted is you.”
He took a deep breath before cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye.
“Look what you do to me,” he murmured as you stared at his face, noticing a rare glow in him. “Believe me when I say your feelings are mutual… you've been on my mind ever since you arrived. It was torturous to see you being disregarded by Edrik while I was sitting there wishing I could just hold your hand. My heart, my body, my soul, it all aches for you. I'm desperate to feel you, and I cannot bear it any longer.”
The despair in his voice, so clear and vivid.
“Allow me to do it,” he pleaded, “I'm begging you to let me have a taste of you, at least for a night… so I can finally end this torment.”
“I will accept,” you managed to say in small gasps. “Only if you promise me this won't be the last time.”
He nodded. “I promise.”
The time was not wasted, you quickly leaned forward to kiss him again with the same intensity and need as before. Both of you moaned against each other while your hands were swiftly untying his snow-covered coat at the same time his were pulling down your undergown until it fell down your arms. Your breasts were freed and you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed; no man had seen you in such a vulnerable state before. However, all insecurities vanished from your overthinking mind once he laid his eyes on your chest and sighed, enamoured by the view.
He gave you a single glance at you to ask for your permission and, once you nodded, his fingers travelled down your body until they trapped your nipples. He gently squeezed them between his digits, soft enough to not cause you any discomfort but hard enough to make them peak. Your mouth was slightly parted, allowing silent gasps to fall down your lips as he admired your pure flesh. He leaned forward then, and you instinctively leaned back; before you noticed his tongue was lapping at one of your sensitive buds, swirling around it and nibbling on it from time to time. You held your body up with your forearms, closing your eyes once he sucked on it. A moan escaped you as he pulled apart from it and went to the other one, giving it the same attention.
His hand was grabbing the small of your back as you touched his hair, tangling your fingers in his brown locks and pulling them whenever his tongue made you feel butterflies in your belly. It was so good, and you were blissful thinking that you were doing it with him. Your ever-kind and loving Lord of Winterfell.
Suddenly, his mouth traced a path down your body, licking and kissing your belly until he reached your pelvis. You lifted your hips once his hands started to pull down your last vestiges of coverage, and in mere seconds you were completely exposed to him as your cheeks got warm once again.
Your legs were spread by his hands on your inner thighs, and Cregan was able to see the mess in your core; you were soaking, and his mouth watered with the urge to taste you. For a few seconds, he was just there admiring you, and then he started to kiss your legs from your ankles, all the way to your hips, shamelessly marking you and leaving red bruises behind; you loved it.
Cregan gave you a quick look, noticing how you were almost shaking with expectation; your eyes reluctant to leave his frame as his thumb spread your swollen lower lips and exposed that little, throbbing button begging for his attention. He stuck out his tongue, slowly brushing it against your clit. You almost died there. Your hand immediately went back to his hair, pulling it a bit too harshly for his liking.
“Sh…” he cooed, kissing your inner thighs in the meantime. “Come on, little one, let me make you feel good, I know you want it.”
Gods, you did. You need it.
“Keep your legs open for me, and let me have my feast,” he murmured before his tongue lapped on your pearl again.
The way he teased your flesh so sensually made your limbs shake. You were gasping as he licked and kissed every single part of you, lurking around and trying to discover your most sensitive spot. Once he found it, you saw stars.
Your betrothed was far from your mind when Cregan dared to push one of his long, thick fingers inside your weeping hole. You cried out his name as your legs shook around his head and, as he curled up his fingers to rub your walls, you felt a knot in your belly starting to form and begging to be released. Goosebumps erupted over your stimulated body.
“Gods… Cregan!” you found yourself whining. He hummed delighted with the way his name sounded from your lips.
His tongue fervently began to flick your clit as he added another finger, pumping them slowly but deeply. The sound of your juices coating his digits was becoming addictive; so sinful, yet heavenly. He was desperate to feel you all.
As he moaned and whimpered against your soaked flesh, you couldn't help but feel an unknown sensation in your gut; as if you were about to explode. Your heart was beating incredibly fast as you leaned your head back and let your mouth spill thousands of obscene sounds; Cregan's cock twitched in his pants the moment he looked up at you.
Gods, you were so fucking beautiful. It was not fair that you belonged to someone else.
Suddenly, with a shout of shock, you felt yourself peak. You gasped loudly and you clenched your eyes shut. Cregan felt your walls squeezing his fingers so deliciously as he drank from you and licked you clean. By the end of it, you were sweating, breathing fast and your hips twitching. You turned into a quivering mess.
Cregan lifted his face, giving one wolfish look before quickly grabbing your cheeks. He desperately kissed you as he groaned in ecstasy. You tasted yourself on his lips as he picked you up and took you towards the bed… the very same bed you were supposed to be sharing with your betrothed that night.
The guilt hit you, briefly making you feel dirty and sullied. But then, as you saw Cregan slowly removing his attires, you remembered who was your betrothed, and what he was doing earlier that day. If he could fuck a whore, why couldn't you fuck another man? You doubted the lesser brother would even notice.
Besides, it wasn't just a man, it was Cregan. Your Cregan.
So, now, as the handsome man in front of you removed his last piece of clothing, you felt your walls clench around nothing as you glanced at his cock. His head furiously red, already leaking and twitching as he started to crawl from the bottom of the bed until he was between your legs. He kissed you again, this time slower… more tenderly. You sighed against his lips.
“You're still a maiden,” he said as a statement rather than a question. You nodded, either way, confirming his words. “Then I'll go slow… though I must warn you, it might hurt for a bit, but I promise you, little one, it'll all be worth it in the end.”
“I trust you,” you whispered as your hand reached his cheek, gently caressing his stubble.
“Open your legs for me, my darling,” he commanded, and you did as he said. He looked down at your entrance, “seven hells…” he groaned at the sight, before spitting down to his cock and stroking it a few times. Cregan swiped the ruddy tip of his prick against your folds, teasing them to hear you moan one more time before carefully pressing the blunt head against your entrance.
You cried out once he started to stretch you out, feeling the slight burn that left you breathless as he made his way inside the tight hole between your trembling legs. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth; Cregan noticed your discomfort, so he brought his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles on it and trying to make you relax. You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving through the pinch.
Your tightness would try to push him away as tried to go deeper, yet he found a way to keep going until he was fully buried inside of you, whimpering your name. Your soft walls felt so fucking good around him, almost making the man drool against your shoulder. His sweaty forehead was pressed against your cheek and you could hear his ragged breathing in your ear, causing chills down your spine. He gave you a moment to forget about the pain, all while he peppered your neck with soft kisses and gentle bites.
“I think I have just reached heaven,” he murmured, his voice sounding so deep and seductive. “So tight, so small around my cock…” he continued words that left his mouth before he could even think about them.
“I- I feel so full…” you muttered, feeling his length pulsing inside of you.
“Shh… I know, my darling, just take deep breaths for me,” he commanded you, and you obeyed. His thumb pushed slightly harder against your clit and you hummed. “Mhm, does that feel nice? My beautiful girl, you're doing such a good job for me,” he praised you, “taking me so well.”
“Feels good…” you nodded.
“It does, doesn't it?” he softly chuckled. “Gods, the way your sweet little pussy takes my cock makes me fucking crazy. Can- can I move? Fuck– Is it okay if I start moving?”
His gentleness and softness did little to make you forget about the way he spoke to you. His dirty words made you clench around his girth, feeling butterflies in your lower belly. You needed Cregan to move and bring back the effervescent heat.
“Please, do,” you begged, and he wasted no time in obeying.
His mouth dropped open as he dragged his cock out of your tightness, noticing how it was covered by your slickness. He pushed in again, filling you and causing you to moan in simultaneous discomfort and pleasure. His left hand went to your hip, grabbing your skin and going deeper inside of you. Slowly at first, he started to fasten his pace until the sound of your bodies colliding against each other was mixed with your moans.
Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he hid his face on your neck, his harsh breathing causing chills on your skin as he moved slowly but forcefully; such a perfect pace to make you see stars. Your legs were bent at each side of his body, while he took you and claimed your shaky frame. Soon you realized that he had not lied, it felt magnificent once the pain started to fade away.
His name would escape your lips as if it was an endless chant, incentivizing him to keep going, to continue his movements until you couldn't bear it anymore. A layer of sweat would cover your body as Cregan's weight was on top of you, it felt as if you were burning yet you didn't want to push him away. You craved to feel his skin on you, loving the way his pelvis would brush against your throbbing clit each time he thrusts into you.
“Fuck, my darling,” he groaned in your ear, “your pussy was made for me to fuck,” he whimpered, biting your earlobe. You replied with a whine. “So fucking delicious, feeling so tight around my cock.”
Cregan lifted his face to look at your messy state. The eye contact that followed almost made you reach your peak once again, it was all so intense it made your head spin. Your nails dug into his flesh and he whispered your name; you hummed in response.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.
He further quickened the pace, his cock now touching that sweet spot of yours. Your walls would clench around him as you felt the much-needed orgasm approaching. A ring of your juices appeared on his cock, and he changed positions so now he was on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking you faster, rougher.
He saw your breasts bouncing on your chest as he thrusted into you, the sight so arousing that he felt his cock twitch inside of you. His stones were full, ready to burst at any moment now. However, no matter how much he desired it, he knew he just couldn't release inside you. No risks must be taken if he wanted to do this again.
With your legs spreaded, his thumb effortlessly reached your exposed clits, flicking it and smearing your wetness around it. Your limbs shook as your mind went numb, and soon your orgasms washed over you. You cried out his name, tightening your grip around his cock.
That's when he pulled out and poured himself on your soaked flesh, staining your folds with his pearly seed.
Once he took a quick look at you, he felt a coil of raw pleasure snake around his body. A whine left his lips as he wrapped his hand around his length, stroking it a few times to make sure he would cover you with every single drop. He was overstimulated already; sweaty, breathless and flushed. He looked so beautiful like that.
“Thank you,” he breathed out, caressing your thighs.
You frown, slightly confused. “What- what for?”
Instead of answering you right away, he leaned and joined his lips with yours, gently and tenderly kissing you. His hands cupped your face and yours laid on his thick arms. A few minutes later, he pulled away only to leave soft kisses all over your face making you giggle.
“For giving me the honour of making you mine,” he replied. “Though I must confess that I don't think I will be able to live without having you in my bed every night.”
You felt a smile appearing on your lips and a familiar warmth on your cheeks.
“Well,” you sighed, “perhaps, you should do something about it.” That flirtatious tone was a bit odd coming from you, but Cregan loved it.
“Yes,” he nodded, softly chuckling as he leaned to kiss you once more. “I will definitely do something about it.”
@arcielee
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Survival | Tim Bradford | The Rookie
Tim watched, helplessly, as the door closed behind (Y/N). He wanted to follow her, but he knew that any imput form him would be useless at best and detrimental at worse.
It was meant to have been an easy day, he could laugh at that thought now. He had grown comfortable, to comfortable. But he had planned for him and (Y/N) take a long weekend off. He had it all planned out, movies rented and cupboards stocked with more food they they could bost possibly eat.
It had been a long couple of months, both he and (Y/N) swamped with case after case at work. So when the last day came before their time off, Tim's head wasn't in the game. He should have been more focussed, if he had, then he wouldn't be here, sitting in a hospital waiting room, drecnhed in his finacee's blood.
It was his fault.
It was all his fault, he would never forgive himself.
It was nearing end of shift when it happened, he took what sounded like an easy call. If he had paid better attention, he would have known how much of a shit-show he was driving into.
(Y/N) had shot him an odd look when he said that they were responding alone. He had said that they didn't need back-up, it was a simple domestic call.
That's another thing he felt like laughing at. He though it was simple. Simple! If the guilt wasn't sitting so heavily in his chest, he might have actually been able to must some sort of reaction to the thought.
But he felt numb. He knew that he had to trust the doctor's to save her. They had brought him back from the brink of death numerous amounts of times, but it wasn't his life at stake here, it was hers. And if she didn't make it, Tim didn't know how he could forgive himself.
The bullet had scraped her neck, breaking the vein. The couple they had been sent to wasn't just having an arguement. The wife had her partner at gunpoint.
Thankfully, the husband wasn't harmed, (Y/N) had made sure of that. She took the bullet meant for him. She had made a split second descision to put her life in front of his. It was her job to do that, Tim knew all too well. But he knew that it was his job as her fiance to put her above all else and he had failed; he failed her.
The rest of it was a blur to him. He knew from the blood on his hands that he had to have tried to stop her bleeding. He could vaguley picture the ambulance that had come to get her and (Y/N)'s attacker running away before she could be arrested.
Everything else was a mystery. All he knew now was that he was in front of doors forbidding the general public to enter.
"Officer," A voice said from behind him. Quickly, he broke from his thoughts. He turned, looking at the nurse before him, nodding to prompt her to continue. "I don't think she will be out for a while, do you know her next of kin?"
"It's me." His voice was shaky and quiet as his spoke. He just about clocked on that the nurse didn't hear him. He cleared his throat, speaking clearly this time. "It's me, I'm her next of kin."
As he spoke, he felt his thoughts clarify for the first time since he saw (Y/N)'s body crumple to the ground. He was useless here but he knew what he had to do.
Ignoring the nurse as she began to speak again, Tim turn on his heels and left the hospital. (Y/N)'s survival was no longer something he could control, the only thing he could do was to catch the bitch who shot her.
That and pray that she would come back to him.
Masterlist
@rookietrek @kmc1989 @augustvandyne
(i tagged people i thought may like, let me know if you wasnt to be added and/or removed)
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Respectfully requesting an Aegon fic ♡
A couple weeks ago we were having a conversation about chubby Aegon and I threw this idea at you -
I'd love to read a story where reader is short and super slender, and people have told her that it's unattractive for a lady, that she needs to get thicker to be able to bear children for the king. And when chubby King Aegon sees her for the first time he's like "she's too sweet and precious, I want her as my queen".
Would you be willing to write something like that? Love you ♡
Existence of a Woman.
PAIRING: Chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader
WORDS: 2,156.
WARNINGS: bullying, mentions of low self-esteem, misogyny, fatphobic comments/references, body contrast/size kink if you squint.
A/N - EZ I love our little convos, seriously you have no idea how happy you make me 🤍 this was an absolute pleasure to write xoxox hope you love it! and same to nonnie, I’ve just meshed the two incredible ideas together!!!
It was sheer anguish, having constantly been surrounded by the disheartening commentary regarding your own body. A body you were born and had grown into with much appreciation everyday for your vital health. A body that had no lesser value than the bodies of other ladies and women alike, and yet, yours was frowned upon relentlessly.
You may not have naturally had the adequate width of child bearing hips, nor the lustrous curves in all the right regions. Your breasts may not have been voluptuous enough, that your mother often worried if you would even be able to produce the Mother’s milk to provide for your own babe.
To make matters even more frustrating, you were in constant comparison and competition with your elder sisters. Their bodies, their curves, their bosom, in contrary to your own, had been approved since their maidenhood had struck. Praised by your own mother, your sisters were ignorant to the constant scrutiny you had endured for so long.
Bickering words from the ladies of the court, from your very own kin, were ruthless enough for bloodshed.
“You are far too slender my dear, and far too small to bear a child to full term. Eat, my dear. Are you certain you eat?”
“You must look promising for your husband, dearest. Or else he may have no desire nor purpose for you much longer… Women like yourself are often tossed aside, becoming a burden to their families.”
“The Gods have blessed your sisters with such elegance and beauty… Mayhaps, your spurt is somewhat delayed. Continue to do your prayers, and the Gods may be merciful.”
It was the endless scrutiny that made it unbearable to exist. You had tried many times to grow oblivious to such comments, yet counting your long, dull days, the voices grew louder and louder, more prominent as you reached a mature age to marry.
“Just as your sisters are, we plan to have you wed before the Winter. Although, be warned your sisters being older will come to priority first. Mayhaps we might be able to spare one year for you to, uh, ripen.”
Nonetheless, when your family had unexpectedly been bestowed a welcoming invitation to King’s Landing to attend a royal celebratory feast in honour of the name-day of their elder, royal son, Prince Aegon the Second, your family humbly yet more so keenly accepted. In a matter of days, your entourage assembled and necessities readied, you were on your way to the city: although this being your second trip, you could barely string a memory to thought, as you were only just a child the first time around.
Now a young woman of age twenty-and-one, despite your sister's enthusiasm, you shared no high hopes of scoring a marriage with any decent man willing to look your way. Far more keen to sight-see the city in all its glory, and with a memory you could reminisce...
"Your Grace, it was an absolute honour receiving your invitation for tis evening's feast. I do hope our Prince has been enjoying himself-"
As your father lavished King Viserys with excessive compliments and many thanks, you could not help but eye each respective Targaryen sat atop the high table. The Dowager Queen, earnestly holding her sickly husband's hand in support, as she bobbed her head in acceptance to your father's words, further down the line, Princess Heleana oblivious to the crowd before her, too enamoured by some black stone or item in her hand, whilst Prince Aemond sat beside her vividly scanning the entire room, looking beyond the foot of the table where you stood. Prince Daeron's seat, you had assumed, empty, the youngest Prince mayhaps amidst the crowds, seeking entertainment and company. Although, it was Aegon who had ultimately caught your attention...
He was no doubt different to Prince Aemond, much larger and plumpier in size, nonetheless, still handsome [he was after all, a Targaryen]. Unlike his younger, menacing looking brother, whose jawline was distinguishable, face chiselled and figure slim and poised: Aegon's features were disguised with a softness, his jaw hidden beneath a subtle layer of fat, his cheeks reddened and full, it did not help that his mouth was constantly occupied with food and wine, as he gorged and guzzled the delicacies before him. As he sat back momentarily, wiping the food residue of his soft-looking lips, a portly belly that appeared rather tight against the restrictive fabric, bloated mayhaps, as the Prince tried to stifle a burp. An electrifying twitch twinged between your inner thighs, as Prince Aegon tenderly patted his distended gut, almost in a prideful manner.
"Aegon, dearest, show your guests the same regard and thank them for making the long trek," Alicent sternly indulged, as she persistently called for her eldest son. Aegon, although reluctantly, devoured his last bite, before heaving himself up with blatant difficulty, walked towards your centre.
"This is Aya, my eldest beauty and very diligent.. This is Sarra, she's got a rather wonderful melody, and isn't she just a sight for sore eyes? And this is Laila, quick witted, she'll keep you on your toes although a belle of the ball. Might I add, all unwedded! Pray the Gods be good, they grace our daughters with a potential hand..."
"And who are you?" Aegon abruptly interrupted, as your mother halted in her speech: her blatantly pathetic attempt to sell her daughter's hands. And although she did not acknowledge you, this had not been the first incident... You had grown accustomed to being invisible. Her cold words burnt into your mind;
"Standing beside your sisters, you might as well not be there... You must understand, dearest, your time will come. Just not now."
A faint, exacerbated breath escaped your lips, as your mouth hung loosely agape. Uncertain if the young Prince was glaring solely at you.
"Uh- th-this one? My youngest... Your Grace."
"Yes, the one who's existence you so obviously ignored," Aegon firmly proclaimed, earning a low, taunting chuckle from his younger brother [who continued ogling the crowd onwards], even drawing Helaena's attention unto him. However, his mother, Queen Alicent, rolled her eyes in defeat, whispering Aegon's name faintly towards him, almost in encouragement for him to settle.
"Apologies your Grace, our youngest is rather quiet and shy, although-" Your mother began to resist speaking, thickly swallowing her words in silence. Her cheeks instinctively flashed red, in exchange to the puzzling, glaring eyes of the royals, bashful against their hushed judgement.
"Th-This is Y/N, my Prince. Our youngest daughter."
"And is she wed?"
The swiftness of how haste Aegon enquired about your marital status, freakishly made your heart flutter, your rather ravenous stomach churning with uneasiness.
"N-No, your Grace..."
"Good-Good."
Aegon had finished sparing your tongue-tied mother further embarrassment, as she was meekly led by a servant to your table. Although, it seemed Aegon was not yet done with you...
An instinctual gut feeling of a pair of prominent eyes burned against your head, and despite your timidity to decipher who, your curiosity overtook... Mayhaps you overestimated your ability to gain someone's attention.
With intense anticipation and raw shock, your wavering attention was met with Aegon's brutal gaze. As his pudgy finger traced over the blunt edges of his goblet, a sly smirk brewed across his ample face, his focus still fixated directly unto you. And although you had initially struggled to reciprocate the same, unnerving attention, you naturally sought comfort busking in his holistic notice.
A few seconds passed, before an unfamiliar servant called upon you, whispering that you follow his lead into the royal gardens, under direct command of Prince Aegon. You had no apparent need to excuse yourself, as your mother now returned to her usual, collective self, flouncy in talk with other keen mothers, of their aspirations to wed their daughters, whom too were far too immersed in spying and gossiping over which young, unwed lords they would sought, you managed to sneak off subtly.
The crisp, chill of the night air was refreshing, inhaling the floral scent looming over the garden, ridden with a diverse range of captivating, flora species. Slowly striding towards a rose, fearful you would frighten the flower shut, your hand lightly grazing over the soft petal. You had never seen such a vividly red colour, vibrant even in the shadow of the night. Your thoughts silenced, easing into a peace unlike anything you had embraced before.
"There you are-" A disruptive, deep voice loomed from behind.
"I've been meaning to catch you... W-Who are you, my sweet Y/N?"
"Y-You honour me, your Grace. I-I hate to disappoint, although I am just a simple-minded, country girl. The youngest, as my mother insisted, I have come to honour your Grace... That is all there is to me."
Aegon took a stride closer towards you, a chubby hand, meaty fingers tightly adorned in golden bands, rested atop his swollen belly, caressing his pudgy flesh clothed beneath.
"No, no you did not listen to me, sweet thing... I said, tell me who you are."
Inhaling a rather gratifying breath, for what felt like the entirety of the night, you spent in the solace company of Prince Aegon. He devoured your every word intently, as he keenly did the prized hog that was relentlessly prepared for his name-day feast.
Although your truth saddened him deeply, Aegon was rather gentle with you, taking a keen interest in your story.
"You need not listen to what they tell you, dearest Y/N... Your beauty is one blessed and favoured, by the Gods themselves. They surely took their time with you... They do say envy is a green-eyed monster... I know, I am merely a stranger to you now, but I speak only the truth... You will come to know this."
Come to know this... His comforting words echoed through your wondrous mind.
In return, it seemed Aegon too, shared a rather eerily, unfortunate fate to that of yours, with his own family. Although he was the eldest, and the son King Viserys had so desperately prayed for, he was cursed to disappoint since his birth. Often reminded and outweighed by his failures, his larger weight did not help his cause. Born a larger babe than the rest of his siblings, he too, naturally had a ravenous appetite than that of his younger brothers. It somehow brought shame to his family, irreparable, Aegon refused to change.
Now having met you, he selfishly felt comforted... He was not alone in being solely judged by his appearance.
"Do not fret, Y/N. Your existence goes beyond that of child-bearing and sufficing a man. A man ignorant to your kindness and affections, is a stupid man indeed."
Whether it was a buried confidence now seeping through, or by some divine push, you gracefully succumbed to the urge that plagued your mind lustfully, since eyeing Aegon's soft lips closely. Your lips crashed against his, the bittersweet taste of red wine lingered over his mouth, as he too embraced the exchange. It was a solid, passionate kiss, your breaths growing denser, before breaking loosely apart, your noses grazing over each other tenderly, foreheads pressed against one another. Taking your hands in his, his thumb stroking over your soft skin, you felt more at ease than you did at home.
"Rest assured, Y/N. I will marry you, I will save you the torment your own family inflicts upon you. You do not need to suffer in silence any more. You will say yes, and prove them wrong, if that is what you desire... I will love you, all of you. I will make up for all the lost years, all the years you did not need to hear such vile things. I will protect you."
Hot tears swelled your eyes, yet not out of anger, nor frustration or agony. For the first time, you felt intense joy. Nodding in solid agreement, you promised Aegon to be a dutiful, loyal wife in return. One that did not care if his waistline grew or shrunk, one that did not judge a person by scales.
"In return, your Grace, my beloved. I will cherish the life you have granted me, and in return, I will do everything I can to return the favour and more... I love you, Aeg. May this name-day be one that you remember with a warm heart."
"This name-day, Y/N, is one I have dreamt of for all my life. Finally, the Gods have blessed me, gevie ābra [beautiful woman], one I will take great care in. If it is not obvious, I am quite full... Do not be frightened, I will not break you."
"Aeg- That is the least of my worries... In fact, I don't mind this-" You cheekily tease, innocently poking at his round gut, provoking a growling chuckle from your betrothed to be.
"If I'm being honest, I find it quite... Invigorating."
"Is that so?"
general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1
Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel
credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics
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kinktober - day 11: shower sex// j.s
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader
Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, shower sex, penetrative sex, fingering, little bit of teasing, oral (m!receiving)
Word Count: 1,200
Author’s Note: sorry for the last minute change! I couldn't come up with anything for the original prompt :)
kinktober 2022 masterlist
---
Jake had a long day, he wanted nothing more than a hot shower. Maybe his want for you is a little more than that.
The practice was completely fucked. Maverick kept getting on his ass and now that Rooster was back in his good graces as the golden boy, Jake was on an out.
Today was just an off day for him and he wanted nothing more than to see you. He skipped the after training hangout at Penny’s bar and drove straight to your place. He called you on the way over.
“Hello?” You picked up, he could hear how noisy it was on your side. “Hi honey, I'm on my way home.”
“Okay, I'll be a little longer. Just have to finish up with a few patients and check these labs and I should be good. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
“Sounds good.” He tells you, and you end the call.
You and Jake had been seeing each other on and off since he first got there. You never put a label on it either, just friends that helped each other out.
When he wasn't on base, he was at your place. To be completely honest, Jake was basically living there. He referred to your house as home and whenever you're on your way home, you would call to see if he was there.
All his clothes hung in your closet, aside from the couple pieces he kept on base with him but other than that, you kept all of his stuff. You had the spare key to his truck, you were listed as his emergency contact and his next of kin, you were the one by his side when he had his crash during his first year.
When you think about it, it was like you two were married.
Except the team didn’t know about you and no one in your life knew about him.
His fellow pilots knew he disappeared from time to time and as much as Jake loved to blab, he never did about you.
You were his secret and his good girl.
Jake used his key to go in, kicking off his boots by the door before walking to the kitchen to get a beer. The fridge was empty, which meant you had been working late nights again but that was fine, he’d order something for you two when you got home.
Right now he needed a shower, so he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. The beer was sitting on the counter and he left the door wide open as he got into the shower, the warm water relaxing his stiff muscles, but not better than your massages could.
Jake pulled his truck into the garage which meant you had to park on the driveway. His boots tossed carelessly by the door and you could hear the shower running when you shut the door.
“Jake!” You shout, walking down towards the bathroom. The bathroom was steamy from how hot he had the water running.
He couldn’t hear you or he did and chose to ignore you. You hopped up into the counter and took a swing of the beer before reaching over to turn on the bathroom fan.
Jake sticks his head out from behind the curtain, “oh hi sweetheart.”
“Why is your truck in my garage?” You ask, spinning the beer bottle on the counter.
Jake’s brows furrow, “it’s going to rain.”
“Exactly. I drive a convertible.” You remind him, waiting for him to connect the dots. “Oh shit! Right, sorry. I’ll move it when I get out.” He tells you, flashing you a smile before going back to his shower.
Might as well join him, save water or whatever it is they say.
You strip off and get in behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Jake turns around to look down at you, “I won’t get out of here to move your car in time.” He tells you, leaning down to kiss you.
“Oh well, you can clean it after then.” You smile, now on your tiptoes to kiss him. Jake’s hands rest on your ass, pulling you flat against his chest when he kisses you.
The warm water runs over his shoulders, spilling down onto you before Jake turns you, the two of you standing directly under the water. He takes another step, leading you to rest your back on the cold tile wall.
Jake’s hand shifts to rest on your hip, giving it a squeeze before moving down to pull your leg up a bit to rest on the edge of the tub. Your head rests on the wall when Jake slips two fingers into you.
Your hand gripping on his shoulder, “Jake fuck- oh, that, do that again.” You ramble out in one breath, chest heaving, Jake’s fingers curling upwards.
He loved when you praised him, telling home. how good he makes you feel. Jake brings you just to the edge of your orgasm before he stops, moving his fingers to your mouth.
Before you could complain, Jake had pushed his lips past your lips. “Suck,” He tells you, feeling your tongue lap his fingers. Meanwhile, Jake’s other hand is wrapped around his cock, rubbing it along your slit, slapping on your clit a few times.
“Jake,” you whimper, eyes pleading with him, “god just fuck me.” You beg, your hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Hold on baby, patience.” Jake tells you, hooking your leg on his hip instead of resting it on the ledge.
Jake pushes into you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. His lips met yours, a hand resting on your hip to keep you up as he fucked you, your body welcoming him like he belonged there.
There was something about coming home to you, being in the shower together, homely and sweet and domestic.
Jake’s other hand rests on your cheek, pulling your focus to him. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips.
“Hm I love you,” you say back, your hand resting on his jaw.
He can feel you squeezing his cock, your eyes fluttering closed. Jake smacks your jaw lightly, “look at me,” he tells you. “If you want to cum, open your eyes.”
You give in, your eyes opening a little and Jake’s thrusts are sloppy, you know he’s just as close as you are. A few more thrusts and you’re over the edge, calling his name as you do.
“Where?” He asks, his head on your shoulder and you know it’s not gonna last. You push him off of you, sinking onto your knees. Jake gets what you were doing, putting his cock in your mouth when you open it.
He pulls your hair up and away from your face, “you’re so perfect, god I love you.” He mumbles, another string of praise falling from his lips as he cums.
Jake helps you up, giving you a kiss before wrapping his arms around you. “You know I do love you, right? I’m not just saying that because I was fuck-” “I know,” you cut him off, “I love you too, Jake.”
“Good,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
----
taglist: @timetoracewrites @diorleclerc @lickmeleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @halsteadssneakylink @Mashtonbunny @Mashton_Bunny @amsofftrack @ads-skywalker-leclerc @allisonxf1 @making-it-big @ruledchaos @skarlettmikaelson @charles-dimple @miniminescapist @venuschicc @romanjbittenbinder @earfquak3 @hypermess @choppedroadcolorapricot @ellalovesvettel @deviltsunoda @jeannebmnt @pedrohoe04 @d1amianodavidhands @elegantleclerc @lostinketterdam @dragon-of-winterfell @givemeasainz @princessbetsy123-blog @logischeroktopus @wonderwoman292 @valkyrie418 @batmanslittlelover @d0ntjudgemy50shades @ricsaigaslec @ferrarifwendvale @ellabellabus07 @lovelytsunoda @bisexual-desi @freddoneptune @crookedcreationstudent @oultonparks @sebastchin @starlightleclerc @perfectsublimekid @fishtankcleaner1000 @strawberrypaul @defnotsobbing @ifancycharlesleclerc @angstyturtlewitch @apocalumpse @molliemoo3 @pleasedontfollowimlost @sk8jeon @zig-zzag @supertrashheropasta @sainz-leclerc @rhaeszn @coffeehurricanes @symmi @angeluvvv @somanyflippingbooks @simpforpierre @hopelessluvrs @user143859 @chilisainz55 @takktolya @anonymip @beepbeepanna @em-idk-123 @shiftingwh0r3 @mimisshhrri111 @justmeandmyfuckeduplife @lewisthoughts @Bouncyballs001 @carronyaflowers @sugarmelonwater @buendiabebeta
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Stay With Me (WIP) | Excerpt
It was 15:00, Mark was doing the dishes that Simon forgot about, grumbling angrily to himself in the empty flat.
- If he wasnae gonnae come home the least he could dae is the fookin’ dishes ‘e left. ‘S bad enough Ah’m standin’ ‘ere ‘ay fookin’ 15:00 daein’ the dishes while ‘es oot gettin’ ‘is dick wet. Like Ah dun have needs. Fookin’ prick.
He heard the fumbling of someone trying to unlock the door but didn’t turn around, instead he focused on the dishes. The door opens and he can hear someone walking in, but continues to ignore it. The footsteps come closer, still Renton doesn't turn his head or acknowledge the man at all. The footsteps stopped a bit closer than Mark expected but he still kept his eyes on the sink. He could feel breath on the back of his neck, he could tell Simon was standing to the right because of how his breath was hitting the back of Mark’s neck. Mark scrubs harder.
Renton stops when he can feel Simon’s hands on his shoulders, but he doesn’t look. He closed his eyes. Simon’s hands snake their way down to his waist and rest there. Mark grips the sink firmly, his eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath.
“Don’t.”
Simon ignores him, his hands slipping beneath his waistband and resting on his hips.
“Simon.” Mark says tightly, “Not tonight.”
Mark takes Simon’s hands in his own to stop the touch
“Not-... Not when you smell like her.” Mark couldn’t look at his so-called ‘best mate’
The words felt like a slap across the face, but Simon knew he deserved it.
“Rents-”
Mark covered his face and turned away
“I cannae right now.”
Simon could tell by the way he spoke that he was beginning to cry.
“Mark.” the blond attempted to rest his hand on Mark’s shoulder, but the redhead walked away into his room,
“I’m sorry.” He muttered, before shutting the door.
Simon slept on the couch that night, he got shtifaced and passed out, because he felt like shit for making Mark cry. He was an asshole, but he didn’t like making Mark cry, at least not when they were having this agreement. He woke up dazed and confused, it was still dark, it didn’t seem to be morning at all. Simon felt weight on him, when his eyes adjusted he saw Mark. The redhead was straddling him, his face was flushed and his eyes looked a bit off.
“Ye awright, kin?”
Renton looked away coyly, grinning a bit but looking nervous
“Ah didnae mean tae-” he hiccups, “tae wake yewww.”
Simon can smell the vodka on his breath, but more importantly, he could feel Mark pressing against his cock.
The blond doesn’t challenge Mark, he doesn’t question him, instead he allows the pleasure to consume him. The redhead was grinding on him, both of them in a state of drunken ecstasy; their hearts were racing, almost in time with the other and their breathing going ragged. Simon grabs onto Renton’s hips, his head thrown back as he groans - if Si had to keep his cock contained any longer his erection would surely burst the button on his pants.
“Fuckin’ hell, Mark, gis us a ride, ye tease.” Simon groaned
“Yis want me tae sit on it?” Renton raised a brow, “Say Ah’m yer favorite.”
Simon grabbed Mark’s chin with one hand, his thumb lightly tracing Mark’s bottom lip, his eyes met Mark’s and they hold a dark intensity to them that made Mark feverish.
“You’re my favorite.”
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How do you feel about Candy as a Character vs. The character you made? I’m honestly just interested in the character you have for Candy and her relationship with Nikki
HI THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, V GOOD ASK I'M HAPPY TO AWNSER
My version of Candy isn't actually supposed to contradict what we know of her already, more so really really build-off-from and completely take and run with what little we were given about her.
I'm fine with anyone's HCs I believe everyone should have fun and it doesn't have to match cannon! but in the same note if we're talkin' character analysis and not HCs they often don't even target what she did wrong and just go "whore." And. Uh. Yeah never been a fan of that.. Not a fan of how she was supposed to be a "golddigger joke" or something in the show either but ehh.
She's not a bad mother because she was on her phone or because she wears tank tops or because she has sex or anything else I've heard while being in this fandom dear GOD SKSKNDJN but this post will literally be 3x longer if I get into my takes on that so it's a different post if y'all want it one day.
Candy didn't remember something important, something traumatizing for Nikki and that's where her flaws lay. Their communication is lackluster. I think it makes her a flawed parent and a flawed person but it doesn't mean "she's scum of the earth condemn this woman to hell immediately," she still loves Nikki and shows she does in the same episode she tells her not to karate chop strangers and get them sued so she doesn't just let her do whatever. She refers to her as "my angel" and Nikki looks up at her when everyone is eating with this smile and they LOVE each other and raaahhh I love the sillies so much.... Cryinhng..
I've mentioned in my post about Neil's mother how I believe that the egg episode they're mirroring their own parents and Nikki being so worried about fucking up her egg and not knowing what to do and being unprepared and scared. I HC Candy had Nikki when she was like 20-21 and recently kicked out by her own mother and she had no support or knowledge of what to do or how to care for a baby and it was SO much trial and error but it bleeds into my HC about Nikki where she has all these big thoughts and emotions but gets regarded as simple minded by her peers because she can't find a way to express them verbally and comes off simple minded or stupid. This doesn't stop her from feeling complicated things it just stops her from being understood.
((literally the whole Christmas episode is her going "I love this thing so dang much!!! I can't tell you why though. I'll know it when I see it.?))
So when you have a unprepared parent who's working by trial and error and you can't verbalize to them the errors or make sense of your feelings that's where issues come in!!
Minor New episode spoilers: Nikki can't write eligibly when she writes letters to her mother. I think is some great potential to be visual storytelling about this if I ever could make a fic. Her handwriting is bad. She gets excited and doodles and scribbles. You can't make out what she's saying. Maybe her mother never even got to know about what happened in the flower scouts because she said it over letter.
Candy still sent her there and lied about it being adventure camp and I hc it was done not because she wants to force feminity on Nikki or anything (if that's the case Nikki would be dead like literally 💀 she needs dirt to live) but because she wanted her to make friends and since she had such a good time as some version of a scout herself she thought Nikki would too. She loves Nikki and supports her wolf-kinning and playing in the mud but of course is concerned she's estranging herself from other people by barking and biting them and sending her out into the woods she would've just continued to ignore people in favor of animals. Candy had a "it'll be good for her!" Type rationalization about lying.
Then next summer she wanted to make her happy and followed through with going to adventure camp for realsies and was scatterbrained about it and misremembered the previous year's sign up for that one.
A misunderstanding didn't hurt Nikki any less. You can have all the good intentions in the world and still screw up and accidentally hurt somebody you care about.
Personally I love depicting Candy as being really really affectionate with Nikki and she calls her not only "my angel" but variations of "baby/sweetie/hunny" and the biggest nickname she has for her is probably "sunshine"
Candy also can't cook lol she tries but it's the only thing in the world Nikki won't eat is her mom's cooking so Candy buys them TV dinners and premade stuff alot. They have "barbeque nights" where Candy brings home ribs and they watch TV together and live in this lil trailer home near a forest. (In the first trailer for camp camp we see Nikki using a slingshot on cans with flowers painted on them and I'm like yeah her back yard just goes directly into the woods I know it does)
I actually HC Candy's off and off boyfriend/husband Andrew is the one who'd force gender roles on Nikki if at all. Guy who jokes about "hookers and blow" ((Infront of his 9-10yo daughter)) with his friends yk that guy.
Please take these walls of text I've sent to a friend about Candy 🙏 also that's meant to say spots not sports 😔
Also I wanna mention Candy isn't even her actual name she got it during her time in the adult film industry (🌽) and it's actually Caroline. She doesn't really introduce herself as that anymore. Sex work in general is often an abusive industry and highly exploitive so she's got some baggage from her time there and falls in and out of being a stripper aswell and struggles to hold down a job that can support her and her daughter and it's part of multiple reasons why she keeps going back to her ex husband bc he's well-off. ((Cannonicaly bought her a car and lawyers))
She didn't even know for sure if Andrew was the father, some AUs I have he turned out to be the father in some he didn't, but she chose to tell him because he could give her daughter the best chance in life and support her education and allthat.
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Finally i don't feel alone in thinking the fandom is toxic, because I had to deal with a horrible amount of ableism (for literal disabilities I have and apparently someone thought I was incontinent and basically compared incontinent people to diaperfuckers) and even still I have to hide behind anon due to the fact the fandom also has a problem with stalking too, since i have been stalked by people who made private accounts around me and screenshotting everything I said to the point I had to actually talk to someone from the Trevor Project because I genuinely did not feel safe
apologies for the rambling, this fandom isn't normal about disabled people
Honey I'm so sorry :(. Yes people are mean and something about this fandom normalizes it. Idk what it is exactly. People say it's 'always been this way' and while that's true it HAS gotten WORSE. mainly because the fandom is smaller and the assholes just sort of all form a cult together and thrive off each others negativity. They say the people with the worse opinions are the loudest and that couldn't be more true within this fandom.
Also the ability to go fully anonymous on this sight is both a blessing and a plague. I do feel that there SHOULD be a way to find out who the anon was. I myself have been consistently harassed by a Spain kin for almost 5 years. It used to really get to me and it doesn't anymore. I truly just no longer give a shit. I went on Hiatus for 2 years and they CAME BACK! Like they were waiting in the shadows and like a bond vilian just turned in their chair and were like "well well well...". It's just kind of funny if you think about it I live rent free in their dome and they don't even know me. An I can't block them because they are always on anon. So I just delete it and carry on with my life. Last year my therapist diagnosed me with Avoidant Personality Disorder and it answered a lot of questions I've always had about myself. Which means I am an extremely shy person chronically so. I take things to heart even if I shouldn't. I feel things very deeply for myself and for other people and animals. My therapist taught me some tools to try and help me deal and I got an increase in my meds. One of those was to not watch the news or actively sought out negative events because those destroy me. I just can't take it. It's a huge trigger for me and I wish it wasn't I don't like the idea that I make it about me' in some way. It doesn't really do much but it numbs me a bit and makes me care less. It still affects me sure but I feel too unbothered to care. My AI covers have been a HUGE stress relief for me and a good distraction from my feelings. But again it's just a distraction. They are little boosts of serotonin to make and it makes me happy and it makes me even happier when someone enjoys it.
The reason I tell you this is to help you understand that no one really gives a shit. That sounds harsh but please let me elaborate on that. I mean I have straight told people "I am legit too shy to function and I do not like to talk about certain things because it gives me major embarrassment that can last actual days. Can we find a new topic or maybe pivot." but they don't actually listen to me about it. And I understand that it's hard to remember everyone's little quirks but to constantly have to remind people and for them to just "Oh yeah sorry... anyway like I was saying" really stings. Because of my disorder you can imagine I have an extremely hard time speaking my mind and standing up for myself. I want everyone to like me I don't want anyone to dislike me to a fault. I will ignore my own feelings and emotions to let others speak about what makes them happy even if sometimes it does sting. So I actually very much do know exactly where you are coming from with that. Just please remember that these are strangers online. Yes they can say hurtful things but the second you close teh app they disappear. They don't actually matter. And YES I am fully aware that this is easier said than done please believe me on that.
This fandom does have a serious issue with ignoring and disrespecting others disabilities. Especially some that are not really heard about/normalized much like yours or mine. I 100% know everyone thinks I'm lying about my personality disorder being a real thing If they don't want to understand me I can't make them, which sucks but I have no control over that. I wish it were not that way but we can't change other people and the way they think/ act but we can work on ourselves and how we process harassment. I wish you luck anon, you're never alone on this bitch of an earth, love you <3
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A Shift In Character - 4
This is set two months before Part 1, so it's a prequel. (From Mystery Man’s POV!)
One fucking year. That's all it took for the Hunters Association to either kill or run off the last of the shifters. Well, except for me. I've lived in Koneland City my entire life and I'm not about to budge, no matter how badly the beast wants me to. The moon is strong tonight, ruining the usual buzz a night at the bar gives me.
I down my whiskey and stifle a growl of discontent.
"More," I tap my glass on the counter and call to the bartender, who raises a bushy eyebrow in doubt.
I've drank enough to kill a horse. I should be feeling something at the very least, but all I'm getting tonight is the moon and the beast, worrying at my insides. The beast especially. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. I patrol every night, but it's been months since I scented a female shifter. At this point I'm so horny I'd probably accept a male as well, but they're all too afraid to get anywhere close to Koneland, and for good reason.
I can still smell the blood of my kin, acrid and burning in my lungs. I drop my face into my hands and breathe to center myself. The scent of alcohol and sweat and piss mingle, causing my beast to snap its teeth unhappily.
It's all over. The fighting is over, I remind myself.
I'm beginning to doubt my resolve to stay and fight.
Lost cause, Sai, the beast snivels in my head. There is little food, no friends, and no sweet females to fuck.
"Shut up," I say aloud.
"Might want to lay off the drinks, buddy," the bartender says, furiously polishing a glass.
I flash my blunt teeth. "Give me the damn bottle."
His eyebrows raise again. "People these days," he scoffs, and sets the bottle down with a thud, wandering off.
I smile and lick my teeth as I catch the sharp scent of fear trailing behind him. I scare people. Deep down, humans always know when they're outmatched.
"Hi," a woman shouts in my ear and I lean away.
"I can hear you just fine," I tell her.
Just an excuse to press close with her breasts, the beast sniffs contemplatively. Smells good, and looks meaty too.
I ignore it.
"You look lonely," the woman says.
She has been dancing hard, maybe a little desperately. Her neck is dewy with sweat and I catch a hint of her unremarkable scent under her perfume as she leans over and claims my glass, downing what's left in it.
She grimaces and squints at me through eyes that have been blackened with too much eyeliner. For a minute or so she makes a stab at conversation and I don't bother to help her out. My fingers are tapping on the counter and I'm only giving her half my attention as I listen to the beast.
The moon, the beast growls. The moon wants us. Run through the trees, shed your human skin far from this city. Come.
Not today, I tell it. Maybe not ever.
That makes the beast angry. Its howl rattles in my skull and I wince. My attention snaps to the side as my senses prickle. Someone has just walked in, and the brief gust of wind the entrance makes brings a whiff of their scent to me. It's the smell of the earth when it has just rained, a certain fertile sweetness that holds the promise of new growth.
Who is that? The beast perks up. What is that scent?
The one who just entered is a woman in a purple sweater pulled over a casual dress. Her thighs are soft and god, that makes my blood rush. I study her with narrowed eyes. She's not even dressed for the club. Her hair is pulled back into a bun and she wears glasses that perch on her nose. She looks annoyed as she marches up to the end of the bar and orders a drink. I pick up the subtle scent of her arousal and I have to grit my teeth to quell my caveman urges. My hand curls into a fist as my cock starts a protest in my jeans which are suddenly too tight.
She's high and dry, the beast whines. Go to her, she will have you. Go to her now!
"Will you just shut the fuck up," I mutter.
"Huh?" The woman in front of me shouts and I switch my focus to her. She pouts. "You're not even listening to me."
I glance over my shoulder at the woman in the sweater, but she's gone as quickly as she came. The moon and my beast work together, enticing me with images of all the things I want; lush forests and the taste of cool water from a tumbling river, the stars free in the sky, the heat of lust, and the comfort of a pack.
"Okay, it's whatever. Do you want to fuck?" The woman says.
"Huh?" I blink myself back into reality.
"Do you want to have sex with me," she repeats, shoving her hair over her bare shoulder.
My lips curve into a sharp, hungry smile. Finally, I can get some release.
Two minutes later, I find myself in a tiny toilet cubicle with my pants around my ankles. It's hardly ideal, but I'm not going to complain. The lady is excited, her breath hot against my stomach as she takes me in her mouth, kneeling on the tiles. I entertain her for a minute, but there's no way I can come like this. I haul her up and she tries to kiss me, but that's a hard no. I spin her around so she's facing the wall and push her skirt up.
"Oh yes," she hisses, widening her stance and arching her back. "Fuck me!"
"When was the last time you did this?" I ask against the shell of her ear.
"Two days ago?" She replies and the way she says it like a question tells me that she's not sure.
"Right." I sink three of my fingers into her, testing.
"W-what are you doing?" She pants.
"I need to make sure you can take me," I grunt in reply.
She laughs breathlessly. "Oh, you're cocky. I like that."
I can only groan in response as I line up and thrust into her slowly. She's not laughing now. She can just barely take me and that's not even the whole thing, but I know better than to try and knot a non-shifter. I have to settle for rocking my hips and listening to her moans. It takes almost all my focus to keep myself from ramming into her the way I want to. I taste blood when I bite my tongue with my sharpened teeth.
"Fuck," I grumble.
It's going to be a long night.
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Taproot - (9/25)
Content warnings: (I'm often jokey with these on the lighter chapters but seriously this time) violence, lethal injuries, nonconsensual vampirism, discussion of suicide in the abstract, blood everywhere. And a lot of sad. This one's intense, but it's all in the past, and can no longer hurt us (so they say).
🎵 Music Pairing: The Chain - Evanescence (cover)
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To say that he cannot sleep is too mild, and eventually, Adrian gives up on trying—peels himself out of the blankets carefully, not letting any of the trapped body heat escape. He stands at the bedside for a long moment, watching both of them breathe, listening to their heartbeats. Trevor’s still running a bit faster than Sypha on all fronts, but nothing like he was before, and the cadence is steady. The water must have helped.
It’s easily midday. He could go out, go running as a wolf or as a man, let the cold and the drag of the snow and the high, harsh sun wear him down until he can’t help but sleep.
Instead, he wanders down to the main hall. There’s no real intention behind it; it’s almost muscle memory more than anything, feet moving in one direction while his mind wanders in others. But when he gets there, the two are forced back together at the sight of the white-cloaked figure seated at the edge of the landing. Lazar is there too, is soliciting attention shamelessly, head upon the Belmont progenitor’s leg as if he were just another visitor—but then, a dog’s understanding of these complexities is limited, and Adrian imagines it was a stressful night for him, too.
“Can’t sleep?” comes the question, quiet, betraying no agenda. Just a question.
Which, Adrian supposes, deserves an answer as straightforward. “No.”
“A lot happened, tonight. It’s understandable.” Belmont yawns, betraying his own difficulty being awake this time of day; between the fangs and the hair he really does look vaguely leonine. A more appropriate name than those who gave it to him ever anticipated.
And for a long moment, Adrian just looks at him, thinking. That was clearly an invitation, a Do you want to talk about it of sorts, which feels disorienting coming from a stranger. But then, if he’s been leaving them messages and was here tonight to intervene, he might have been watching, too; might know them better than they know him. It’s an uncomfortable thought.
Another uncomfortable thought: there are creatures in the world adept at shape shifting, and there are casters of very convincing illusions.
“Why now?” Adrian finally asks, because it has been bothering him, and because if this is nothing but a cruel hoax, he will put an end to it before it can get its claws into them.
“Pardon?”
Adrian takes a few steps down to the landing. “Why reveal yourself now?”
Belmont turns, looks up at him for a long, considering moment, then shrugs. “I didn’t have a choice, did I? Trevor was in trouble, and it didn’t look like the two of you were going to get there in time.”
Adrian ignores that, for the moment. It doesn’t feel like it was meant to be an insult. “No, I simply mean… why did you never come to us before now?”
A sigh, evasive. “I think you know how badly he’s going to take this,” Belmont says, regret clear in his voice, one hand fidgeting restlessly with the pale blue trim of his cloak. “Once he figures it out. It was kept secret for good reason.”
Trevor’s inherent distrust of Isabel and her people; his immediate distrust of Adrian himself, down in the vault. His kin’s normalization of all the slaughter. Disrespectful jokes about bloodletting, about turning him into shoes, and Trevor’s left a lot of that behind but he’s already hard enough on himself, isn’t he?
“And that reason is?” Adrian pushes, rather than acknowledge it.
“It is very hard to hunt something when you know that something is a part of you.”
It isn’t flippant. It isn’t overly dramatic. It’s a practical truth, and Adrian becomes keenly aware in this moment that he’s standing before a vampire who has spent several lifetimes killing his own kind, who engineered an entire legacy to keep hunting them for countless generations. Who knows exactly how hard it is. Who feels no need to even get up from where he’s sitting, in the face of Adrian’s aggression—not out of disrespect, but because he simply isn’t afraid of him.
“And that was good enough reason,” Adrian asks, though he can feel himself losing momentum, “to let him face this level of danger unawares?”
“I assumed that he would receive the messages I left—”
“That you carved on a random tree, in a language he barely speaks and a dialect that’s been out of use for three hundred years?”
The hand scratching at Lazar’s ear stills. Belmont looks to the main doors, narrowing his eyes. “I had to be discreet. The one I got this information from—she couldn’t know I was passing it along.”
“You mean Carmilla,” Adrian says. It’s not something they’ve talked about, but the Styrian armor the two vampire soldiers had worn is distinctive, easily recognizable. That Carmilla survives, that she is involved in this catastrophe, is no longer just a guess.
A shrug, too nonchalant for the stakes of the conversation. “She never gave up her name. Whoever she was, though, she hounded me for months. Trying to gain my allegiance. She repeatedly refused to take no for an answer.”
That’s… huh. Not quite what Adrian had been expecting. “Did she not know who you were?”
“She seemed to. Which only makes the whole thing more confusing.”
This is a lot to think about, and Adrian isn’t sure he has the capacity right now. Why would Carmilla, who is connected and educated enough to know all about the Belmonts, ever try to turn one of them against another? Surely she must know that their familial loyalty—
No. No, actually. She probably doesn’t know much about loyalty at all.
Adrian sighs, putting it aside, circling back to his original point. “I hope, for your sake and Trevor’s, that you are in fact who you claim to be.”
No response to that, though Adrian can feel the eyes on him before he looks up to confirm he has the Belmont’s attention. “Because if you aren’t,” he continues, “if this is a sham, and you are here to distract him or deceive him, or get something from him, or just fuck with his head, dangle the idea in front of him that he has living family only to pull it away again—I will end you.”
A long, considering silence. Belmont halfway smiles, like he’s trying to hide it. “Understood,” he says, something like amusement and relief glinting in those sharp blue eyes, so much like Trevor’s. “But you do realize that you got your flair for the dramatic from your father, yes?”
Adrian narrows his eyes, doesn’t drop his gaze. “What do you know of—”
“Your father?” For a second, there’s a flash of pain there, deep and broad and immeasurable, and he’s no better than Trevor is at hiding these things. “I knew him when he was still human. When we both were.”
And that—not the words exactly, but the implication behind it, that Dracula was human once, that he’d been as frail as the creatures he later condemned to death, shocks Adrian into silence. It isn’t as if he’d thought his father arose at the birth of the world already an immortal, or even that he was the first vampire. But that someone still exists who remembers that before-time—that his father’s human existence is still in living memory—is not something he ever considered.
And wasn’t Leon Belmont’s time only something like four hundred years ago? Could the reign of Vlad Dracula Țepeș have been so short? The power he’d commanded alone…
“Then you are possessed of a unique story,” Adrian finally says; these are questions for another time, when they are less exhausted, when Adrian has had time to wrap his head around the fact that their answers actually exist. “One that no one else alive can tell.”
Belmont sighs again, a short little huff of breath. “Maybe so.”
Darkness and light, walls that shake and crumble, pain and the lack of pain and fear and—
It’s over. There’s nothing else worth thinking: it’s just, simply, done.
Worse: it’s all been for nothing, agonizingly in vain. Bernhard is dead, never to menace another, but his power has just been passed on to someone who—Leon can acknowledge it now, teeth grit in agony, staring up at the bright, blurred ceiling with blood drying on his face—is just as wicked and amoral as the powerful old vampire had been.
Mathias, he thinks, heart desperate with loss. But he doesn’t bother asking why; there’s no longer anyone who can answer. He understands now that his friend died long ago—when Elisabetha died, really.
It doesn’t make this betrayal any easier to bear.
Over him hovers the creature Mathias had called Death, as if such a force were anything but stealthy and incorporeal and relentless; as if it could ever have a body, could be spoken to and fought with and beaten.
Death, Leon knows. He’s seen it take his comrades, watched it take his betrothed. This? Just a demon, just another monster. But he’s still dying, and it’s a meaningless distinction in the end.
A wave of red pulses through the form, lighting it up like flaming blood. It’s preparing an attack, probably something devastating. Overkill, really, given that Leon felt his back break on the last throw, hasn’t been able to move from this spot on the floor since. Somewhere nearby, the whip calls. It wants him to reach for it, is screaming for him to reach for it. But it’s too far away.
I’m leaving, and you’re stuck here forever, he thinks toward it, toward Sara. I’m sorry.
The glow above him peaks in brightness, magic flowing from it in waves, coalescing into a burst that Leon knows, with surety, will end him. He isn’t at peace with it. But the certainty is, somehow, comforting.
Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice: “Stop.”
The energy disperses instantly, the residue of it trailing out to the ends of the demon’s wing feathers, gathering there in dozens of glowing red spots of light. They wave lightly in the air all around him, like butterflies, like flowers in the breeze. It’s oddly beautiful.
A silhouetted face comes between them, blocking out the light: long hair, devilishly pointed ears, a glint of red at its throat where the crimson stone sits. Leon closes his eyes, turns his face away, because he cannot do this again—he cannot.
“Leon,” the voice says, indulgent, like a parent who knows they should be scolding a child but doesn’t have the heart to do it. A hand clasps his chin, forces his face forward, and when he dares to look up again he can see something held tightly in the death demon’s grasp, well over Mathias’s back—a misty human form, nearly solid. It’s like looking into a fogged mirror; it’s him.
Well. Perhaps this thing really is the reaper after all. At least he won’t have to live with this betrayal for much longer; he can already feel his awareness dissolving.
Then the hand on his chin tightens, claws digging into his skin—sharpening his attention, dragging it back to Mathias. “You said you didn’t want this gift from me,” his old friend whispers, hanging low over his face, close enough for cold, damned breath to roil over his skin. “But it occurred to me that you wouldn’t have wanted me to do any of the things I’d done, had you a choice in the matter.”
“No,” Leon barely manages, voice weak and desperate, because he knows where this is going. If you ever loved me, don’t do this. “Please.”
“But you don’t have a choice, do you?” Mathias continues, voice caught somewhere between cruelty and fondness. “I was still thinking too much like a mortal, you see. But that isn’t necessary anymore—and not giving you something you for the loss of your dear Sara doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Then let me die,” he rasps out around the blood pooling in his throat, choking him. “That’s all I want from you, now.”
Mathias seems to consider this for a moment; cast all in shadow, his expression is impossible to make out. There’s a pained little noise hanging in the air, though Leon cannot say who it came from. Mathias traces one clawed finger along the line of his jaw, like a lover—like he used to before, before Elisabetha and before Sara, when they were young and stupid and lighting up every battlefield with their mad, reckless courage and celebrating every night they still lived with the same abandon—
Then Mathias leans in, pushing Leon’s face roughly to one side. “But it’s not what I want,” he rumbles against Leon’s throat, as if life and death were so trivial to command, were the matter of a whim. Perhaps now, for him, they are.
And he bites.
Things get disjointed, after that. He’s aware of sensations—pain, fear. Being pressed back to the floor as his broken body tries vainly to fight Mathias off, then a heaviness settling into his bones, an unraveling as something vital and important is pulled out of him, snagging painfully on every craggy memory and regret. His soul? He thinks it might be his soul. He remembers Rinaldo’s story, his poor daughter turned into a murderous demon, and he knows that whatever awakens in this body will not have a human spirit, will not truly be him.
Will it be like dying, then? Will he find himself in the Creator’s kingdom, even as his body walks on? Or will Mathias consume his soul like he did Bernhard’s? Will it be drawn to Sara’s, in the whip? Will it wander, restless?
The red points of light hover, smeary and indistinct. In Death’s hands, the misty shape of him dissolves, disperses. The reaper is taking no prize with him tonight.
Then his mouth is being forced open, something pressed between his teeth, and a blooming of iron and salt and something unspeakably dark and terrifying expands in his senses, overwhelms him—washes him away.
“Do with your eternity what you will,” Mathias says after, a perverse twist of hope in his voice, though it’s otherwise all cool indifference. He touches cold fingers to Leon’s cheek, to his closed eyes, then stands back up, brushing the dust from his robes. The blood on his face, he doesn’t bother to clean away. “But never let it be said that I do not pay my debts.”
A swishing of cloth, the tread of footsteps, retreating. The beating of deathly wings follows.
Leon is alone.
He’s alone, in a disintegrating castle far from home, far from help, and he’s hurting. But he can feel his body knitting itself back together with impossible speed, can feel the sensation return to his legs, a stinging rush of agony that strangles a cry from his throat before it subsides down to a crawling, seething itch. The bleeding grows sluggish, then stops. He’ll survive, his battlefield instincts tell him. If he can get out of this place.
He can’t say he’ll live. He knows that much. Before Mathias had even stood up to leave, Leon had felt a dull weight settle in his chest, heavy and dead and nauseating, his own heart gone still. His body is feverish with the contradiction of being alive and dead all at once, rejecting itself, remaking itself, and his head is spinning, spinning—but under it all, he still feels horribly, tauntingly like himself.
Sara had still been herself, right up until the end. But she had been turning slowly, like a poison gradually spreading; she’d not had her soul torn from her all at once.
When will I lose myself? he wonders. It sits like curiosity, benign, idle, like this is something he’s watching from outside—and maybe he is. Maybe his soul is just tethered here for the moment, like a boat whose towline has gotten tangled in the dock pilings, before it tears itself free. When do I become a monster? Will I get a warning, or will it just happen?
A rumble rips through the space, and a chunk of masonry dislodges from the ceiling, crashes down a foot to his right. He finds he doesn’t care.
Leon Belmont is alone, the walls shaking down around him and his oath still fresh where he’s carved it into his heart and his blood going cold on the floor beneath him, going cold inside him—and all he can find it in his brave warrior’s soul to do is curl up and weep. For Sara, for Mathias, for Rinaldo and his family; for his own innocence, now nothing but the embers of a burnt offering on the altar of eternity.
All around them, the castle seems to be holding its breath.
“It isn’t a story for now,” Leon says, in the darkness of Dracula’s castle, to Dracula’s own son. He knows he’ll just have to tell it again, once Trevor wakes, and he hopes he’ll be forgiven for not wanting to recount all the details twice. Still, there’s something about Alucard’s posture, his tone. “...you really do care for him, don’t you?”
Alucard narrows his eyes. “My father?”
“No,” he says, because that’s a given, no matter what the boy had been forced to do. “Trevor. And Miss Belnades, for that matter. You’re very protective.”
A noisy sigh, and Alucard turns away from him, hands settling in the pockets of his coat. Doesn’t reply, which was halfway what Leon expected.
“Right,” he says, looking down to his hands, working the gloves back on. He cannot quite hold back a huff of exhausted laughter. “It’s a liability to admit it. It puts them in danger. I understand that.”
“You find that funny?”
“Not at all,” Leon says, looking up, because that protective edge in Alucard’s voice has just gone sharper, reminds him of a wolf standing in defense of its pack, and it’s important that he be understood. “It’s… heartening, I guess. Our families don’t have the best history. It’s nice to see that starting to change.”
“You’re the one who swore vengeance against my father—brought an entire hunting clan into existence for that express purpose.”
“Yes. I did. But that’s nothing to do with you, is it?”
A long silence, then, as Mathias’s boy considers that. It’s not that complicated, really, but Leon supposes that in the Year of Our Lord 1476, perhaps being held accountable for the sins of the father is more commonplace than it used to be.
“I’ll say it again,” Alucard finally says, more to the ceiling than to Leon himself. “It’s very simple. Don’t hurt him. If you are who you say you are, that shouldn’t be difficult. And you owe him answers.”
“I do, yes.” Truly, he owes Trevor more than just answers; the man has spent the past fifteen years tenaciously keeping the family legacy alive entirely on his own, and for that, Leon owes him all the gratitude in the world—and all the apologies, for not being there to share in that burden. “He’ll have them. Assuming he wants to talk to me at all.”
Here, for the first time tonight, Alucard cracks a smile—just a tiny thing, twisted crooked on one end. “Are you really worried about that?”
“He was raised to kill what I am—raised to see all vampires as monsters, because most of them are. He may not be able to see past that.”
“He was raised to kill what I am, too,” Alucard says, demeanor softening in the wake of that smile. “He’s done a fairly shit job of it, as he would say. I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“What would you worry about?”
Alucard doesn’t hesitate. “Whether he’s going to punch your fangs in when he realizes what this implies about himself, and about the family he’s spent a lifetime idolizing and resenting in turns.”
Wonderful—though Leon can’t say he’d blame him. It’s one of those secrets that only ends well if it’s kept; the second it gets out, it tends to cause more anguish than being open about it in the first place. “Fair enough,” he says, dropping his gaze back to the stairs, catching back another yawn. He has not had to keep daylight watch in a very, very long time.
“You’ll survive, I’m sure,” Alucard says, with that same knife-edged smile, and it’s unclear if it’s meant to be reassuring or sarcastic.
Leon laughs—because it’s been a long morning, a long month, a long year, and because he can, these days. That’s important. “I’ve made it through worse.”
He’ll make it. He isn’t sure that he wants to.
He pulls himself to his feet eventually, some lingering survival instinct kicking in, stumbling and staggering out of the castle and into the woods. Dawn is coming on, as Mathias had said. He could—he could fix this, he could fix it right now, all he’d have to do is stop running, stop looking for shelter, stay exactly where he is and let the sunrise have him.
He can’t stop running. Something is driving him forward that is operating on a level lower than thoughts or wishes or self-destructive loathing of his own newly damned state, driving him to stay in the densest copses of trees, to crawl into the shadow of a wooden bridge arched across a muddy creek bed, to sit there and shiver in the cool muck and moss when all he wants is to feel the warmth of the sun one last time. He’s so cold, so tired, and he’s wept himself dry, the sorrow burning itself out, leaving him hollow and empty.
And no matter the deprivation of his early life and the hardships of the battlefield, he has never been so ravenously hungry.
When do I become a monster? he had wondered, lying there on the cold stone floor of the castle, waiting to feel the tension of whatever cord is holding him here pulling tight, shuddering in the air and then snapping, breaking free. He had thought it would be a sudden thing, and that he wouldn’t really be present for the aftermath of it all.
But now, balled up in the dark, curling around a hunger that makes his stomach clench as if around knives and makes his head spin with a different kind of need than he’s ever had for food or drink, he realizes—this is going to be a slow erosion. It’s the hunger that’s going to do it, is going to winnow him away until all that’s left is bones and instinct and selfish, endless need. It will be a corruption of the self, not an absence of the self, and he’s going to be here for every second of it.
“Damn you, Mathias,” he mutters between his teeth, though he knows it is redundant, unnecessary; Mathias is already well enough damned.
And so, now, is Leon.
Rinaldo is waiting for him at the edge of his property, just as he was the first time. He can feel the barrier just a foot in front of him; it’s innocent enough, at that distance. Like static. It’s a good distraction from other sensations, and he welcomes it.
“Thank God,” the old man says when he spots Leon, sighing in relief. “As long as you were gone, I thought—well, come on, come inside. You’re a mess.”
“I can’t,” Leon says, quiet.
Rinaldo stops short, turns back to look at him—to really look at him, this time. To see past the dirt and the blood and what he must think is just the pallor of exhaustion, physical and emotional both.
“No,” he says, genuine sadness in his voice. It doesn’t stop
him from taking a cautious step backward, putting himself well within the barrier’s bounds. “Not you, too.”
Leon shakes his head, not denying it, just… in terrible awe of the situation. “You have nothing to fear from me, Rinaldo. With or without the barrier.” Is that true? He wants to believe it is, but his jaw aches and his hunger yawns wide and it’s probably for the best if Rinaldo doesn’t trust him. “I only came to tell you that Bernhard is dead. Your family’s been avenged.”
“My... thanks,” Rinaldo says, a little uncertain, but he closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “They can rest now, and perhaps my time in this forest can come to an end.”
“I also wanted to thank you for your help.”
“Clearly,” the man says, voice wavering with guilt, “I didn’t help as much as I should have.”
No—it’s not Rinaldo’s fault for not knowing that Mathias was playing a game here, was playing all of them. Rinaldo’s as much a victim of that scheming as Leon is. He shakes his head, dismissing it. “Bernhard’s dead. You did enough.”
“But…” A careful pause. “If he’s dead, why are you—”
Leon closes his eyes, interrupts before the question can finish. “He wasn’t the one that did this.”
“Ah. Of course. What… well. This is a strange question I find myself asking. But as you seem to still be in control of yourself for the moment… what will you do?”
A frustrated sigh; Leon plants his hands on his hips, paces a few steps, restless. He’s still half convinced he’s going to throw himself into the next dawn, but… “I have my own justice to seek, now. And another evil that needs to be stopped.” He stops walking, stares at his mud-covered boots, at the feet he should never have stood upon again. The collar of his coat is itchy against his skin, where the blood has dried. He is so, so hungry. “I guess I’ll see how long I can hold onto that, before…”
He trails off. Rinaldo makes no effort to finish the sentence. They both know.
Instead, the man gestures to Leon’s belt, where the whip still hangs. “You’re still carrying that.”
Leon shakes his head, unhooks the whip from his belt, studies it in his hands. The glove leather will give him a few moments’ protection, at least. “It hurts—whatever alchemy you used to make it effective against vampires in the first place. But…” he brings it back toward himself, holds it close in. It burns a little, is profoundly uncomfortable to be close to, but the rage he’d felt from it in Mathias’s presence, in Bernhard’s, is noticeably absent. “I don’t think Sara can hate me, even like this.”
“Then you should keep it,” Rinaldo says, with the tone of a man who knows he’s making a foolish, sentimental decision, and is making it anyway. “Honor her sacrifice. Use it for your vengeance.”
Leon huffs a laugh, derisive. “My vengeance, which I will probably just forget about in a few days’ time anyway.” He lifts his free hand, sets it across his eyes, watches all the bright shocks of light dance there under the pressure. Another good distraction. “I’ve never been so—so—”
“So hungry?”
“God forgive me, yes.”
Rinaldo is quiet a moment, thoughtful. Then he turns, disappears into his cabin, returns a moment later with a small wooden crate.
“Here,” he says, setting the crate onto the ground, just outside the barrier. There’s a sharp glass-on-glass noise from inside, the ting and scrape of vessels clanking together. There’s also a—a smell, coming from it, that—it’s—
“What is that?” Leon asks, prickly and suspicious, not moving an inch toward it. All of a sudden, he can feel some fragile thread of control shaking in the air, ready to snap. His teeth itch. When do I—
Rinaldo sighs, looks almost shamefully toward the ground. “There are a lot of alchemical rituals that call for blood,” he says simply, offering no further explanation. “From animals, mind. I’m no monster myself. But if I’m leaving this place, I’ll be abandoning the more fragile of my materials anyway.”
Oh. That—that explains the smell, and the way it’s made his hunger spike, digging frustrated claws into the pit of his stomach and twisting. Leon feels abruptly dizzy, reaches to put one hand onto the low-hanging branch of a tree. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—I mean—”
“Leon, sit down. Before you fall.”
Leon looks up from where he’d been studying the tree’s bark pattern, trying desperately to steady his stomach, steady his mind. Rinaldo is looking at him like he’s being an idiot child, and Leon can absolutely believe the man had been a father once.
He slumps down to one knee, does his best to sit without collapsing.
“Listen to me,” Rinaldo says, settling to the ground across the barrier from him, and for the first time since he turned around and really looked, really saw what Leon had become, he doesn’t sound like he’s nervously treading water. “There are things I didn’t tell you about my daughter—details that meant nothing in explaining why I was pursuing vengeance against Bernhard. But they are relevant now.”
He remembers the story—the dead son and wife, the laughing daughter, the sea of steaming blood, and God almighty, what would that even smell like—and just like that, Leon feels his insides turn sickeningly. If just the thought of it—
“It took me a while to figure out what had happened when,” Rinaldo says, guarded, keeping a watchful eye on him. “But as near as I could tell, she was turned days before I returned. And the blood, the bodies—they were fresh. She held out that long before the hunger overwhelmed her.”
“She must have been very strong,” Leon whispers, curling an arm around his own middle.
Rinaldo sighs, pain still evident even after all the years that have passed. “I’ve never known for sure if that was simply the natural progression of it all—Bernhard never turned anyone who didn’t become a monster. But maybe it was the hunger itself that damned her. If I’d been there, if I could have helped her stay ahead of that hunger… then perhaps…”
“That’s fantasy,” Leon says, because even through his own anguish, he can hear the guilt, and Rinaldo doesn’t deserve it. “Whatever’s tethering me here—it can’t last. We both know that.”
A raised eyebrow, almost scolding. “I try to be very clear about what I know and what I don’t. What you’re saying is likely, but I don’t know that that it is true.”
He doesn’t know… he doesn’t know? How could he not—he’d been so certain, about Sara’s inevitable degeneration, about the whip and about everything else, and—
“Sara might not have needed to die, then,” he says, and he can hear the accusation in his voice. And maybe it’s unfair, if Bernhard really did corrupt everything he touched; maybe what happened to her and what has now happened to Leon are somehow inherently different, but all he can see right now is the look on Sara’s face the moment before the whip landed—
Rinaldo licks his lips, takes a long time to answer. When he does, it doesn’t sound as defensive as Leon figures it should. “That was the only way to destroy Bernhard. There was no other way. She knew that, and you knew that, and that sacrifice was hers to make—so that none would share her fate.”
So that none would—a laugh bubbles up bitter and dark, and he finds his face pressed into his own hands, dried blood flaking off of his skin.
“I know,” Rinaldo says. “I know. The inner workings of fate are… precarious in their irony, sometimes.”
“Precarious.”
“We’ll say painfully unjust.”
“None of this matters,” Leon says, reaching to push the crate away, only to discover that his strength has deteriorated to the point that the weight of all the glass and liquid is too much for him to budge. “I’ll stop—the one who did this. And then I’ll end this nightmare. I don’t want to prolong it with… with this.”
“You’ll never manage it, like you are now. You’ll just lose yourself faster. You’ll hurt someone.”
“Then forget vengeance; I’ll end it this coming dawn.”
A long, careful quiet. Rinaldo drums a finger on the edge of the crate, a soft and muffled sound but in Leon’s ears it’s like thunder.
“She isn’t on the other side, you know,” Rinaldo finally says. “Even if you find a way to die without it being suicide—you won’t find her there.”
Because she’s bound to a piece of blood-soaked, braided leather. Bound to the earth forever, in who knows what state. Alone. “I know that. I know.”
A hand reaches out through the barrier, settles on his arm; it isn’t the most involved gesture, but in context, it’s a remarkable act of trust. “So stay in the world, Leon. Bring light to its darkened corners. For as long as you can.”
He watches in silence as Alucard slips off into one of the side corridors, seeking the sedating nepenthe of the midday sun—sets his sword across his knees, fighting off his own body’s demands for rest.
There is more, still, that needs to be done here.
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muddy days
PAIRING; c!SBI x gn!reader
SUMMARY; request - platonic Technoblade, where he's trying to maybe give gardening lessons to everyone but someone (maybe Tommy/Wilbur/idk) start a mud fight? Just something fluffy and entertaining, I just enjoy reading about Techno trying to gives lessons of any kind 😁
Phil needs to go do some things, leaving Techno in charge of his siblings - one thing leads to another and a mud fight breaks out
(ages: Techno & Wilbur - twins - 16, you - 9 (also called Clymene), Tommy - 7 (Also called Theseus))
WARNINGS; none
A/N; ahhhh adorable request !!! had fun writing this as I barely write fluff :))
1.3k words - M.LIST
The past week had been rain, rain, and you guessed it – more rain. Mother nature took no break, deciding it best to have it pour non-stop for 6 straight days. Some hours were heavier than others, yet it never varied past a light shower.
The weather was so bad that if it were human you would have no choice but to assume they were miserable.
Miserable. The perfect way Tommy and his siblings would describe this forecast. You were all sick and tired of being locked up inside, to the point where Wilbur got so antsy that he pulled his two younger siblings out with him to play in the rain. Yeah, it did result in a scolding from his father, but all three knew the short time outside was worth more than their money.
After yet another night of seemingly endless rain, dawn broke when the down pour finally eased. It drizzled for a little while longer, but came to a proper end by the time the sun was comfortably above the horizon.
Phil really wanted to take the chance to get out and do what he needed for supplies so his family could suffice, so that is exactly what he did. He was gone before his three youngest were awake, making a quick conversation with Techno to double check the hybrid remembered all of the household rules.
Techno was ecstatic that he would get to boss around his annoying siblings for the day, finally able to get the stuff he wanted done around the house. He knew that their home would look better than it ever had by the time Phil was back. (Because really, all he wanted was to make his dad proud.)
As the Minecraft kin awoke, Techno immediately informed them on what would be happening today – hastily promising it would be fun when he was met with three separates groans of distaste. You ate breakfast as per usual, then the hybrid sent you all off to do certain chores.
“Waaiitt,” Wilbur objected, “can’t we get dressed first? Surely you won’t deprive us of that.”
Techno shot him a glare, which his twin only shrugged off. “Fine,” he huffed, “but don’t wear anything good, we are going to do some gardening later.”
You and Tommy wailed in disapproval whilst Wilbur shook his head, clearly not happy with Phil’s decision.
the break for lunch came and passed sooner than any of you would’ve liked, and it wasn’t long after everyone had finished that Techno was dragging you all out the back door to start gardening. Once all eight gum boots had been slotted onto their respected feet, you raced Tommy down the stairs and to the shed. You were having a good day so far, so you let Tommy win. The smile on his face was much better than winning would’ve gotten you anyway.
As the mud squelches under foot, a brilliant idea forms in your head, and when you look up at Tommy, based on the glint in his eyes, you can tell he has the exact same idea.
The twins interrupt your ‘telepathic’ conversation with Tommy, scurrying into the shed to grab any necessary tools. The duo came back out, guiding you over to the veggie patch.
“Alright Theseus, Clymene, you two will plant whilst Wilby and I will weed,” Techno directed, ignoring the pointed scowl coming from his twin at the childish nickname.
“What are we planting Tech?” you ask.
“Uh- just some carrots and potatoes, nothing that exciting,” Wilbur interjects.
You and Tommy hum in approval, making quick work of grabbing the necessary seeds and running over to a separate veggie garden to be alone. As you hastily throw down your tools, Tommy looks up with the most wicked grin you had ever seen.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he smirks.
“That depends sir,” you giggle, attempting to hide your ever-growing smile. “Were you thinking about how fun mud can be to play with?”
“Yeah!”
“Good me too!”
The pair of you laugh, oblivious to the twins’ gaze on you. They could tell the two of you were up to no good, but were weirdly willing to let it all play out.
“Ok Toms I’ll move to the other side of the veggie patch so that way you can throw mud at me, but I will ‘accidentally’ duck so it hits Wilby in the face,” you snicker.
“Why do I have to throw?” Tommy whines.
“Why can’t you?”
“Techno likes you better so he won’t get mad if you do it.”
You think for a moment. “Good point. You move to the other side and I’ll throw okay?”
He nods, salutes, then crawls so he is opposite of you, his back turned to his brothers. You wait until Tommy is the only one with his eyes on you, then ready yourself.
“Get down,” you whisper, failing to contain your massive smile.
“MUD FIGHT!!” you screech, gathering the biggest clump of mud that you could muster and piffing it at Wilbur’s head. Unfortunately your aim isn’t exactly perfectly accurate – so instead of hitting the twin you aimed for, you may have hit the other.
For a hot minute, everything froze. You thought for sure this was how you were going to die – Technoblade killing you for something you misdirected. Wilbur’s pupils were blown wide – as were Tommy’s – at what had happened, both clearly unsure of what Techno’s reaction would be.
“Tech?” you gulp, fear running rampant through your veins. “I- I didn’t mean to hit you I was aiming for Wilby I promise-”
Your sentence got cut short because a big, gooey chunk of mud landed straight in between your eyes.
“Bullseye,” Techno smirks, already prepping himself to make Tommy his next target. Wilbur seemed to have a similar idea, glancing at his twin before launching his attack.
Wilbur’s mud pie hit Tommy in the back of the head, causing him to turn around and then be struck on the nose by Techno’s.
Multitudes of laughter echoed around the garden at the youngest’s double whammy, joy spreading like a contagious disease. You and the gang felt better than you had in over a week.
Yet when you noticed how clean Wilby was looking, you didn’t bother to resist the urge to push him over and into the mud. Running as fast as you could, you grinned as his own smile faltered, quickly realising what he was in for.
You cackled as he scrambled to his feet, screaming oh so loud. “Noooooo Clymene I’m your favourite! You wouldn’t dare!”
“Yes I would!” you cheered, chasing him in circles around the veggie patches.
You could hear Tommy shrieking in glee as he did the same thing to Techno, antagonizing the elders with you.
Adrenaline flourished throughout all four siblings as the chase continued for a while, the two younger beginning to tire out. The twins knew it to be only fair for them to slow down, meeting eyes for only a second as if in mutually agreement to let the youngin’s best them.
Hope sparks in both yours and Tommy’s chests as your pursuit was coming to an end. For you, all you had to do was stick your leg out for Wilbur to trip on, falling and landing face first into the ground – now coated head to toe in mud.
Tommy, on the other hand, had a bit more trouble bringing down the piglin. So, after lending him a hand up, you and Wilby decided to help him out.
With his twin holding his hands behind his back, Techno was stuck, rendered useless. Tommy and you had a field day smushing mud onto his face, smearing it on his neck and arms.
Despite how grimy and gross the twins felt about being saturated in dirt, both knew the pure happiness that shone from Clymene and Theseus was well worth everything that had happened.
And although he claims it was a waste of time, to this day it remains one of Technoblade’s fondest childhood memories.
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Chapter XXXVIII
A Kili X OC fanfic
Previous chapter // Next chapter
Tw: oh boy. Light hypothermia, descriptions of drowning/running out of air, blood, battle, mention/description of injuries. CPR knowledge from books, Azog (ew), crying. No - sobbing. Life or death situation. So much angst. Descriptions of fatigue. I probably missed some. Let me know <3
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Kili might need a hug
The second Azog and Raewyn fell down, there was dead silence of Ravenhill. Thorin’s eyes were frozen on the newly formed ice hole, desperately hoping for the ranger to come swimming up any moment. Bilbo had taken a running start towards the pair left on the ice, his breath in his throat as his heart beat at irregular speed. A ragged breath tore from Kili’s throat as his eyes were glued to the newly surfaced water as well.
Farris had flown down the second her own disappeared from sight, her claws tapping over the ice as she tried to locate her. In desperation, Kili tore the chainmail coat around him off, throwing it on the floor as he neared the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Thorin stopped him, holding a hand in front of his nephew’s chest. For once, Kili didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Instead, he shoved the hand off of him, continuing his path.
“Kili!” The king called again, but he was ignored once more. Grasping the sleeves of his tunic, Thorin held onto his kin. “Don’t. I can’t lose you too.”
Tears welled up in Kili’s eyes as he stared into those of his uncle, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I have to,” He started, his voice cracking slightly before looking back at the water. “I can’t leave her there, Thorin. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You’ll die.” The older dwarf argued. Whilst the water would be enough to drown anyone, he knew about the wounds littering his nephew’s body. With his injuries, he’d never manage to resurface again.
“I don’t want this life if it is without her.” Kili begged, a tear slipping down his cheek as he gave his uncle a final look. Heartbreak and desperation were sewn into his features, and Thorin could not help but let go of his sleeve.
A loud ticking filled the air as Farris’ beak kept beating down on a particular place on the ice. Loud banging came from the other side and the three could almost feel their hearts sinking upon the realisation.
“Raewyn…” Kili breathed, running towards the owl before kneeling down next to her. There, he spotted two hands against the ice, the rest of her figure vaguely seen through the dirty war. “Raewyn!” He called again, pounding his fists against the ice as well, trying desperately to break it as she had taken his arrows with her. A anxious smile appeared on his face through the tears, his eyebrows furrowed together in a foreign combination of frustration and hope.
“Hey!” he called, hoping she could hear him. “I see you! Hold on!”
Her figure suddenly faded from view and the pounding stopped. Kili’s movements halted at the sight, his head shaking furiously. “No,” He mumbled, resting his palms against the lake as he tried to peer down. But when there was nothing else to see, heartwrenching pain gutted through him, his hands slamming down in frustration. “No!”
Bilbo knelt down beside the dwarf, trying to spot his friend underneath the ice, but all he could see were the snowflakes flowing through the streams. Kili had risen quickly, walking back to the opening into the lake.
“Kili,” Thorin called. The younger dwarf was prepared to argue again, pushing the king away if he had to. Instead, Thorin grabbed the back of his neck gently, pushing his own forehead against Kili’s. When they parted, the prince was given a mere nod and a sad smile.
And then he dove in.
Silence. Again. Deafening silence. Farris had ceased her movements on the ice, no longer sensing her owner. Instead, she jumped over to Bilbo, sitting down atop his knees. Bilbo was too terrified to respond to the owl accordingly.
“They’ll make it,” he tried to tell himself. To tell Thorin. “They will.”
No response came from the dwarf. He had wandered back to the place of battle, his hands wrapping around the giant chain that had carried the boulder. Bilbo’s head turned towards the dwarf, not standing up from his spot, but offering him a confused glance.
“Thorin?”
The king had used the chain as Raewyn had, now hitting the ice angrily, causing cracks to appear on the floor.
“Give them a path to get back up.” He panted, not letting the hobbit know anything else. But it seemed enough for Bilbo to comply with him.
Letting one hand wander over Farris’ feather, he urged her off of her. As he stood up, he unsheathed his sword, aimlessly hacking down on the ice, copying Thorin’s movement.
From a distance, two figures walked down the hills, staring at the dwarf and the hobbit attacking the ice wildly. They quickly ran down the slope, spotting Fili against one of the rocks. One leaned down, checking on the dwarf before swinging the prince’s arm over his shoulder. Tiredly, Fili slumped his feet with him, his weight on Balin.
“Thorin!” Dwalin called from beside his brother, waving at the two. Giant eagles flew from the skies, taking all orcs and goblins with them. It seemed the battle was coming to an end. Yet, the pair could not catch a break.
Fili’s blood ran cold as he seemed to process what the two were trying to do. And why they might be trying to do that.
“Break the ice.” Thorin grunted, not sparing his old friend and confidant one glance. His gaze was set on the ice where his nephew had disappeared into only seconds ago. A few seconds too long.He wasn’t as bright as Fili. Dwalin heard an order and followed, his feet carrying him across the ice as Balin dubiously carried the crown prince with him.
“Where?” The big dwarf asked, wielding his axe in pride, as if he hadn’t been exhausted by all the orcs and goblins he had to slay to still stand there.
“Everywhere.” A simple answer. Whilst Dwalin took it as enough, Balin hesitated, still not understanding the situation. From beside him, Fili swallowed thickly tears welling up in his eyes as he realised who exactly were missing.
“Kili and Raewyn.” He whispered. Something that went heard by the older dwarf. His grip on Fili momentarily faltered as the gravity of the situation suddenly began to increase on him as well.
Slowly, he helped Fili sit down on the floor, before he grabbed the club he had carried earlier. Then, he walked towards the crowd, following suit, breaking the ice with every step he took.
Meanwhile, under the ice, all Kili could feel was cold. When he had jumped into the water, a freezing temperature suddenly took over, which shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. Between all the fight and adrenaline, he had forgotten what the temperature had actually been like. But now, submerged by nothing but freezing water, he had to assimilate quick. Too quick for his liking.
His vision was awful under water, and he could see nothing but black ends dragging all the way to the bottom. If there even was one. For a lake on top of a small mountain, the body of water made him feel smaller than anything ever had.
He had immediately swum to the point he had last seen Raewyn, aware of the fact he was held back by ice as well now. Sharp rings suddenly echoed through the water as he saw shadows appearing somewhere on the other side of the ice. Sun slowly began to seep through before it came from directly above him as well.
Turning around, he set his feet against the ice, pushing himself further down without having to spend too much breath. He had never been a champion in holding his breath, but now, it seemed as if he had just dived in, instead of seconds ago. He now knew what he was doing it for.
The further he went down, the more pressure build on his ears, especially adding the terrible sound waves echoing through the water, but he was looking nonetheless. The water seemed to become darker with ever kick of his feet he gave and the water seemed to freeze off his finger tips. Yet, he kept going.
A thousand thoughts ran through his head. What if he would find her, but he had been too late? Or what if he wouldn’t find her at all? What if all this was for nothing and he would resurface without her? What if he wouldn’t resurface?
His lungs were screaming for him to swim back up, to not go down this far. Raewyn had cursed him for not being stubborn enough. He’d show her stubbornness.
And then he saw it. A hand floating into his vision, below him. Pushing his feet away from him once, twice, he grabbed onto it tightly, a floating feeling entering his stomach. He had found her.
Forcing himself back up, something held him back. Slowly, a blade neared him, scratching his arm. Tugging harshly, he tried to free Raewyn from Azog’s deathgrip. But the orc wouldn’t budge. All air had left Kili’s lungs by now, and he was swimming on final oxygen. Angrily, he kept one hand on Raewyn, using the other to swim down, kicking his boot down harshly on top of Azog’s head. The movements were difficult in water, where gravity had decreased immensely, but with two kicks, Raewyn’s figure felt a lot lighter.
His mind wasn’t on the orc. He needed to get Raewyn out there. That is why he was down there. Thus, his feet kicked up as quick as they would allow him, adrenaline seeping back into his features as he was now made painfully aware that the orc was still giving one last fight. He wasn’t chasing Kili, thankfully, but he did not know that.
Trying to be closer to her in case Azog struck again, Kili wrapped his arms around the Asha’s waist, forcing her against him as his legs kept trying to push his body to the surface. It was only now that he noticed the sky above them appeared brighter than ever. His head became lighter the closer he came to the surface and his legs grew tired. He was so close, yet he felt so far away.
His legs began to fail slowly and he felt himself grow desperate for some air. He wouldn’t make it. He could have cried upon the realisation. He wasn’t able to save her. It was almost poetic how he’d die with her after she had done everything in her power to keep him from doing so.
A soft smile climbed onto his face as this came to his mind. There were worse ways to go. He had made peace with this. His fighting was done and though he did not want to think it, he knew her fight was finished as well. Maybe it was all meant to end like this eventually.
That is when a hand grabbed the back of his collar harshly, tugging him and Raewyn with it as it raced to the surface. As soon as they broke from the water, Kili inhaled greedily, clinging Raewyn to him as he tried to regain his breathing.
“You weren’t giving up on my down there, were you, nadadith?” Fili asked, his eyes red as his hand loosened from his brother’s collar. From the solid ice that was still stuck to the rocks, Dwalin extended his arms, grabbing the Asha from Kili’s arms.
Exhausted, Kili tried to climb onto shore. Two strong arms pulled him up as they noticed his struggle. The minute the young dwarf was atop the ice, Thorin pulled him into a tight hug, uttering a silent prayer to Mahal as Fili sat down beside the two of them, his hand clutching the wound on his thigh which had now been immerged with salt.
“Raewyn…” Kili mumbled into his uncle’s tunic, breaking from his hug anxiously. Crawling away from his kin, he sat next to the ranger, who had been laid down on her back.
Balin’s hand was hovering above her mouth, looking for a sign of breathing, but his face fell as he noticed none. Then, he held two fingers just under her ear, trying to find some sort of pulse.
“Lad,” He uttered in a hushed mumble. “I am no medic, but-”
“No.” Kili shook his head, furiously blinking back tears as he forced himself closer to the ranger, brushing wet strands of hair out of her face. “Amad saved a dwarfling from drowning once.”
“Lad, her pulse-” Balin began again, but Thorin held his hand up as a silent order to let him stop. He noticed the shaking hands of his nephew, the broken expression on his face and the scratching of his voice. Maybe it was too late, but he wouldn’t let someone tell that to him. He’d have to figure it out on his own.
“Fi, help me.” Kili pleaded, a sob tearing from his throat as he finished his words. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Fili crawled over to his brother. “I- I can’t remember. How did amad save him?”
Helplessness crossed the older brother’s features as he shook his head, looking down at the limp body of his friend. “I…I don’t know,” He admitted sadly. “Not exactly.”
“Push her chest.” Thorin sighed, knowing the attempts were futile, yet offering his nephew a tiny sliver of hope. His hands folded over each other as he demonstrated to Kili, ushering him to copy his movements. “You have to force the water out.”
Nodding in determination, Kili did as the older dwarf had told him, pushing his hands down on Raewyn’s chest gently. Trying to find the proper rhythm, the prince kept forcing his hands down, blood dribbling down from the new wound on his shoulder. It didn’t seem to bother him at that moment.
Beside him, Bilbo had turned around in desperation, hot tears trailing down his cheek as he held his hand in front of his mouth, trying to stifle his sobs. Farris neared the hobbit, trying to offer him some form of comfort, but her presence seemed to do the exact opposite.
Fili held his head up to the sky as he tried to force his tears back, knowing his brother might need him more than ever now. Even the other dwarves stood there in pure silence, emotions processing through them in a whirl storm.
But worst of all was Kili; he, who had been doing his absolute best to keep the ranger from failing him. She has saved them so often, he almost seemed to forget she wasn’t immortal. And the realisation was horrible. He couldn’t properly see through his blurry vision, his head was aching, his throat felt as if it was burning, and his hands - which had been doing such hard work - would not stop shaking.
“You’ll have to push harder.” Balin offered through a whisper, nearly scared to break the tension on the field.
Kili didn’t look up, didn’t stop his movements. “I’ll break her ribs.” He answered hoarsely, a sniff following his words.
Swallowing thickly, the eldest dwarf frowned sadly: “It isn’t supposed to be pretty.”
Whilst his head seemed to stop working when those words were spoken, his hands did not. A million thoughts flew through him whilst the tears streaming down his face seemed to multiply instantly. And then he set more pressure.
His hands now began to hit the Asha’s chest even harder. He didn’t want to, being fully aware of how fragile bones could be. But in this life or death situation, he had to make decisions he wouldn’t like. If this would save her life, he’d do it ten times over. His mind flashed back to his mother, tearing up when telling him and his brother tales about his father when he was younger. How he had barely known him, and how it still broke his mother. He always felt bad for it, but now experiencing it made him wish his mind hadn’t taken him there.
He could already picture it: his mother returning to the mountain, returning to her brother, returning to her sons. Just to figure out there was very little left of her youngest. He knew how heartbreaking it must be. He wanted Raewyn to meet her, to introduce them. He was sure his mother would’ve loved her. He would be lying if he said he’d never picture them talking about his embarrassing childhood. Things that used to stir up so much unease in his mind now became something he longed for. He wanted Raewyn to laugh over his ridiculous bath time stories, he wanted her to make fun of the names his mother called him. He wanted her to haunt his nights with her teasing and laughter.
Subconsciously, his hands started pushing even harder, slight anger in his movements now. Angry at himself for not having flung himself at Azog earlier. Angry at Fili for not leaving with her, instead of returning to aid in the battle. Angry at Thorin for fighting with her throughout the entirety of the journey. Angry at Raewyn for not having left with him back in Laketown. Angry at her for not knowing when enough was enough; of not knowing when to leave the battle for what it is. Angry at her for being as stubborn as she was. Angry at her for being so endearing and breathtaking and making him want to abandon his entire life just to spend it with her. Of all the creatures on Middle-Earth, he had to fall for the best of them; for the one who was so selfless, she’d sacrifice herself for the one person who had made everything so sour for her.
“Lad…” Balin tried again, pulling him back to reality. How long had he sat there? How long had his hands been pushing and pounding? It had begun to feel like hours. He hadn’t noticed Fili breaking down beside him, or Bilbo clinging to Raewyn’s frozen hand, his cheeks swollen and red. He hadn’t even noticed Dwalin had left, likely to round up the remaining dwarves.
“No.” He whispered, shaking his angrily. “No, not yet.”
“Ki,” Fili rasped out, his hands falling atop Kili’s.
“No,” He repeated, not ceasing his movement. “This isn’t how this ends.”
Pain filled Fili’s heart as he watched his younger brother desperately try to push the water out of the Asha’s chest. Praying for some sort of miracle to save her. He couldn’t hear it, but he knew he was doing so.
His fingers now tightened around Kili’s, gently trying to pry him away from Raewyn’s body. But broken sobs tore through the body of the youngest dwarf, wailing in defeat: “You can’t do this to me!”
In frustration, attempting to get rid of his brother’s hold, Kili’s hands formed into fists pounding down in agony. Grief had turned into anger and regret.
Regrets for not having taken her place when he still could have.
——
Nadadith: Little brother, in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)
——
Taglist: @errruvande @writingawaymylife @justnerdystuffs @spidergirla5 @fallenangeloflight @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @lxdymormont @deathofafangirl01 @the-cranck-hobbit @chaoticpaintsplatter @zaddyluvr @bxtchopolis @derangedcupcake @radbarbariancupcake @gay-destiel
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Hi, it's me again lol, I wanted to participate in your drabble event!! Would you mind writing lee aether with lers xiao and kazuha (these are my comfort characters) and I recently played aether and fell in love with him. The sentence "We’re gonna get you!" seems cool ^^
A/N: WAAAAAAHH ANONNN 🥺 I can't thank you enough for this prompt. A character I kin (Xiao) and two comfort characters?? I'm ascendinggg 💘 Anyway, the drabble came out a bit longer (I really had my fun with it lol) but I like the result, so I hope you do too. Buona lettura (Have a nice reading) 💚🤍❤️ Also, since you said 'it's me again', please use an emoji or something like that to sign yourself so it'll be easier for me to understand who I'm talking to 😅🌸 (I think I know who you are but I'm not sure, sorryyy)
Drabble Event Day 6
Aether's legs were moving as quick as they could through the Chinjou Forest, his breath was uneven and his heart was racing. Only one thought was echoing in his head. Run. A phrase resonated in the deep woods. "We're gonna get you..."
One moment he was hanging out with his friends in the inazuman forest, and the other he was being chased by the same people who were laughing along with him a couple of seconds earlier. And all of that just because of a playful poke! Weren't they exaggerating a bit?
He didn't have time to complain about whether their reaction was fair or not, he had to focus only on dashing through the trees and not get caught. But what chances did he have against a Yaksha and a samurai who knew that island better than the back of his hand?
Just when he was realizing who his ... were, a shadow jumped down from a tree and grabbed him by his shoulders, taking advantage of the surprise effect to pin him down to the ground. "I got you!" Kazuha said softly, winking at the blond and sticking his tongue out playfully.
Not even a second after, Xiao reached the two of them and straddled Aether, sitting on his knees to prevent him from kicking. He wasn't even trying to keep his grouchy attitude, for once he was smiling playfully while looking down at the poor Traveler. "So, what was that stunt you pulled earlier?" He asked while cracking his knuckles.
The blond gulped loudly and stuttered, trying to talk his way out of that predicament. "It... it was nothing serious... I j-just wanted to see you smile..!" To be honest, he had considered the chance that they would try to get him back, but he had also decided that it would've been worth it.
"That's really sweet of you to say," the wanderer cooed "we'll make sure to return the favor tenfolds." He stated while gesturing to the shorter guy to wait a second before striking. Then he brought his hands above Aether's tummy and wiggled his fingers without actually touching him.
"Aeeehehehe wahait Kazuhahahaaa thihis is unfahahair..!" The Traveler whined, giggling already. "Why are you giggling already? Can't you see that he isn't even tickling you yet?" Xiao asked directly, genuinely confused by his friend's behavior. However, the blond thought he was just teasing him, so he just arched his back and kept laughing with a faint blush on his cheeks.
"That's how sensitive he is to a gentle touch." Kazuha explained, ignoring the distressed whine coming from the adventurer "The mere sight of some wiggling fingers makes his face become as red as maple leaves in autumn. Isn't that right, Giggles?"
"Noooooohoho" the poor guy couldn't do anything but blush even harder and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping to find some sort of relief in not seeing those sneaky fingers anymore. "Not a good move for such an experienced warrior like you..." the white-haired guy commented feigning seriousness while nodding at the Yaksha "If you stay like that, you'll never know when your opponent will strike." He said with a natural tone, and at the end of the sentence twenty fingers descended on the Traveler's tummy and sides, poking, caressing and digging in the soft skin.
"Wha- nahahahahaha Ihihi wahasn't reheheadyyy ehehehehe" the yellow-eyed guy protested, only to be told that a surprise attack wasn't supposed to be announced. Kazuha was really in a mood that day, he thought.
"What's wrong, huh? Can't take what you dish out?" Xiao teased while tickling his sides, ribs and the v-line of his hips, making him buck them in a futile attempt to make him fall. "Serves you right for poking me earlier..!" He scoffed in fake anger, although the thought of the squeak he had made was still making him blush a little.
"Yohohour ehexpressiohohons ahahand squeahahahals wehere wohohorth ihihit!!" Aether said in a moment of sudden boldness, making the other two gasp. "Well, there's only a way to find out if they were really worth it." Kazuha stated while moving his hands to stretch the skin around his friend's belly button.
The Yaksha understood immediately and unleashed his tickly wrath on Aether's death spot, making him go ballistic immediately. "WAAAAHHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAT THEHEHEHEREHEHE NOHOHOHOHO" The blond begged in vain.
The shorter guy completely ignored him. He just kept tracing the rim of the navel before dipping a finger in, wiggling his finger inside, giving quick pokes and scratch delicately at the walls as if he was trying to clean them.
For someone as ticklish as Aether, it was way too much to handle. "AAAAAAAAHHHAHAHAHA PLEHEAHAHAHSE STAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIT IHIHI CAHAHAN'T TAHAHAHAKEHE IHIHIT" Hearing him beg, his friends immediately let him up and helped him lean against a tree to recover from all that laughing.
"Thahat was mean... all ohof that for a lihittle poke..." the Traveler complained. "You like it and we all know it." Kazuha stated calmly as he booped his friend's nose, making him become more red than a jueyun chili.
"Aaaahh..!" The adventurer whined while hiding his face behind his hands, "Your squeals were really cute though... I don't regret anything..!"
"HAH?! As if, Yakshas don't squeal..." Xiao huffed, turning around to hide the light shade of pink that was painting his cheeks. The Traveler smirked to himself, observing his friend's ears change color, then he whispered to the wanderer "He's gonna be next, right?"
Only to see no one by his side. As soon as he realized that the white-haired guy was nowhere to be found, he heard a surprised scream, a little thump and some high-pitched giggles.
It was going to be a long day.
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It's wild how every day when I was friends with cloud and mars I'd have to write posts being like "sorry @ ppl for not responding to messages" and like, explain myself, and now that I'm not friends with them I don't have to worry about that at all bc no one else makes me feel uncomfortable for not responding to them. Also how id constantly have to put posts I wanted to reblog into drafts to reblog later so cloud wouldn't get upset that I was posting but not responding. And he pretended like it didn't make him upset but the moment he got angry at me it was "like you even ever talk to us you're only in the GC twice a week". Like I seriously hate ppl who are like "I understand and I'm here for you and you can be whoever you want" while they secretly are fuming about the things they just assured me were okay with them. Also the reason I was never in the group chat was bc you guys were trying to isolate me and make me feel left out. I'd be watching y'all send messages with no breaks and I'd join in and EVERYONE would go silent. "You always joined when we were busy" is such bullshit. You always got "busy" the moment I joined. And I express that I hate zo/san and then they'd try to force me into conversations about it and try to convince me to like it, and their reasons were like "yeah like sanji could give zoro unfulfilling abusive sex like lol wouldn't that be funny." And like that's the exact reason I hate zo/san and I'd be so uncomfortable and they'd just keep going and I'm like... "hehe yeah.... that's terrible... I actually like Zoro so this isn't something I think is interesting" and the cloud has the audacity to say he's "Zoro kin" for one, grow up, for two, you fundamentally hate his canon character and who he is and you're the exact opposite of what he represents as a character. Anyways I just wanted to rant bc I noticed I was no longer drafting all my posts and no longer making "I'm sorry for not responding" posts. Oh also I would CONSTANTLY say "please don't respond to my personal posts where I'm ranting bc I'm only doing that to work things out in my own head" and every time I'd post something, cloud would immediately come to my inbox to talk to me about it........ it's like .. the types of people who idolize toxicity and codependency, will always ignore your boundaries bc they think they're the person you need. They can show you the affection that will cure you. And that's literally SOOOO gross. I'm a grown adult. If I need or want support, I'll ask for it. I obviously didn't ask you for a reason.
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Naga! Karl heisenberg x F naga! reader
Warnings: threats of violence,actual violence,reader is a rattlesnake type naga. Implications of abuse
Reader meets karl for the first time
A trail of snow was left in the lord's treak to the church,lycans keeping farther and farther away as he got closer and closer to the broken church. He groaned,the snow cold against his scales as his clothing barley helped keep his body warm. He was somewhat used to this,knowing miranda never gave a rats ass so he had to make sure he himself could make it back and fourth with no trouble.
He heard the bickering before he even got there,alcina and moreu fighting over something he couldn't see. His 'sister's' attention snapped to him when he slithered into the church,ears perked as his glasses hid the annoyed looo in his eyes.
"Late again heisenberg? Thought the cold finally got to you" she sneered. He ignored her and made his way to the bench,moreu backing away from him as he took up a majority of the bench then lit a cigar. He would naturally have a rude responce ready but miranda appeared before he could speak. He kept his mouth shut,waiting to see what miranda had summoned them there for.
"Normally I wouldn't do this but something new has come up and I am no longer in need of this...thing anymore" she said,gesturing to the cell in the middle of the lords that was covered with a thin sheet. He could see something in there,thinking it was another mutant like him or moreu but didn't exactly care until miranda yanked off the sheet.
He saw something of kin to a giant snake,expecting this to be an actual giant snake until he saw a head pop out-a human head. An angry look on the persons face as she moved about to sit up and stare at the lords. Her body manuvered itself like it wanted to strike,a loud rattling noice being heard as miranda neared the cage.
"Another freak!" Angie screamed then giggles madly. Alcina scoffed,her glancing at heisenberg then back at the cage.
"Another holder of the cadou,though he's proved rather useless and failed tests needed to be a host for my dear daughter. Figure out who will take this thing,I am in no longer need of it" with a flutter of her wings,miranda dissapeared and left the four lords to continue bickering about themself. What they had not noticed,was the cage being unlocked and the secondary naga alowly making her way out. Karl pretended to not care,hoping she would get out quicker while he bickered on why he should be allowed her.
He took note of the diamond markings down her back,the large rattle at the tip of her tail that she kept still as she quickly make an escape. Unfortunately,this was not the case.
"Oh no you don't!" Alcina said loudly and stomped on the base of her tail,enticing her rattle to shake and her body rear up. Alcina didn't have time to react as the naga reared up then stuck alcina,fangs sinking into her hand and injecting a painful and potent venom.
"You bitch!" She screamed,yanking her hand back as the venom took effect quickly. Moreu wobbled over to her,checking the wound before angie ran over to the unknown naga. She was quickly yanked back by angie when the rattling noise became louder and louder as she freaked and backed away.
She didn't notice heisenberg until he dropped down from the bench and snuffed out his cigar. Taking his time to slither over and watch the strangers movement,his hammer slung over his shoulder incase she wanted to strike. She didn't,her eyes locking with his in a hypnotic gaze as they both hovered there for a second.
"Hi" she softly said,her gaze dropping from his as her head lowered,no doubt feeling the power of his gaze. She felt oddly calm when he neared her,a hand grasping her as he examed her body.
Alcina was too busy screaming for help as they quickly made their getaway,not taking much convincing as karl led her back to the factory,using one of the metal pieces on his hammer as a sort of collar to pull her along just in case she tried to escape. He saw crows watching them,so he made the show of yanking her along with a stern gaze before they made their way into the warmth of the factory.
"Welcome to this..fucked up thing I call a home,name's heisenberg,yours is...?" He asked while leading her deeper and deeper into the walls of the factory. He heard her name,mentally taking a note as he and she made their way into a rather large room. In the corner of the room was a makeshift mattress on the floor covered in heating packs,in the other corner was a large infloor bathtub that was empty.
Karl felt something when the other naga made her way to the bed-his bed and curled up in the warmth. Her gaze held some sort of sadness as she layed there and basked in the wamrth of the packs. He slid closer to her,her gaze snapping up to his before she flinched as he raised a hand to touch her. He snapped his hand back like he had been burned by an unseen flame,anger boiling in his core as he quickly came to the conclusion on what she had been through with miranda.
"Look" his gruff voice made her gaze meet his, "I'm not miranda,but I'm also a lord of hers and...I hope you understand.." his throat dried up quickly,"we are similar,I will treat you as such but don't expect sunshines and rainbows".
She smiled,a soft smile that made something bloom within his chest that for once wasn't anger. Her smile felt like the sun,so bright yet so wanted and addicting. He then turned and slid straight into the door,effectively shocking him and laughter to ring out through the room. He felt rage she laughed until he took notice in the mirror how ridiculous he looked.
Her laughter felt so refreshing to hear,the sound making the feeling in his chest bloom tenfold like he was stabbed with a flurry of happiness. He did something he's rarley done,he laughed with her. Her laughing as contagious as her adorable smile,her eyes glinting with unseen joy. He stopped to catch his breath then slid over to her,her posture relaxed and aloof as he practically towered over her form.
"You and I will get along together just fine,I'm sure of it" he grinned,noticing how her face turned a deep shade of crimsom.
"Yeah...yeah we will!"she squeaked out nervously as karl slithered out of the room. She took a deep breath in,trying to quench her blossoming feelings as karl made his way into his workshop across the hallway. He had a camera in her room,so he watched her as she happily squealed and wiggled on his mattress.
He subconsciously hoped they would closer,perhaps in another fic?
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Second one for Ki. Him introducing Mason and Kinsley to his girlfriend!
She's not exactly his girlfriend in this drabble but he does really like her lol
"Why are you so nervous?" Kinsley laughed when she saw that Kiyoung's knee would not stop bouncing. The two of them, along with Mason, were sitting in the cafeteria of JWA, waiting for Kiyoung's latest girl to show up.
"Yeah, it's just another one of your girls," Mason added.
"That's the thing, you two," Kiyoung sighed. "She's not. I can tell."
"Really?" Kinsley asked.
"Really. I don't think I've ever felt this way about anyone in well, ever," he chuckled. "She's headstrong, determined, ambitious, smart, funny, and sexy as hell."
"Have you had sex with her yet?" Mason questioned.
"Nope, only kisses."
"Oh shit," Kinsley and Mason replied at the same time, realizing how serious Kiyoung was about her.
"I know," Kiyoung huffed. "So I really want you two to sniff her out for me and let me know what you think because I trust your opinions more than anything."
"Ok," Mason said and just then, Kiyoung hopped up out of his seat when he saw his girl walking towards them.
"Hi baby," he grinned, leaning forward and kissing her firmly. The woman clearly didn't have any qualms about PDA and kissed him back, which instantly seemed like a good sign to Kinsley and Mason. The woman was tall, thick, and had the most gorgeous hickory colored skin.
"Hey," the woman smiled after pulling away from Kiyoung's lips.
"Kins, Mase, this is Vanessa Childs," Kiyoung introduced them. "V, these are my closest friends Kinsley and Mason Kim."
"Nice to meet you both," Vanessa smiled, reaching out and shaking Kinsley's outstretched hand.
"Nice to meet you too," Kinsley replied.
"Hyung didn't tell us you were so beautiful," Mason smirked as he took ahold of Vanessa's hand and kissed it.
"Ignore Mase, he's a charmer," Kiyoung said as he pulled out the chair next to him for Vanessa, waiting until she had sat down before he did the same.
"So, Ki didn't tell us that you were American," Kinsley chuckled.
"Yeah, that's how we met," Vanessa replied. "I came to Seoul to work with an act and Ki was working with hem as well."
"Someone was trying to act like they weren't interested in me at first though," Kiyoung said.
"Because I know a hoe when I see one," Vanessa shot back, making Mason and Kins laugh.
"I like to refer to it as sexually free," Kiyoung huffed. "And you've gotten around too."
"Regardless, we started talking and he found out that I was based in New York."
"Which turned out to literally be perfect."
"And after he got on my nerves about it enough, I finally agreed to going on a date with him," Vanessa finished as she reached over and leaned against Kiyoung. "And the fucker has wormed his way into my life."
"Damn right," Kiyoung smiled.
"He has the tendency to do that," Mason chuckled. "So, are you back and forth between Seoul and New York then?"
"I'm still mostly in New York but I've found myself staying longer and longer here in Seoul every time I come back," Vanessa admitted.
"Make Ki come out to you next time," Kinsley spoke up. "I always tell him that he doesn't spend enough time in New York anymore."
"Oh trust me, I think I've found a reason to go back more often," Kiyoung smiled. As lunch went on, Vanessa proved to be just as amazing as Kiyoung said and by the time they were getting up to leave, Kinsley and Vanessa had exchanged numbers.
"So you have to come visit me at HYBE before you leave," Kinsley said as Mason helped her put her jacket on. "I'd love your opinion on this rock demo I have going."
"Of course. Oh, thank you baby," Vanessa smiled at Kiyoung as he helped her put on her jacket as well. "As long as you come visit New York and show me how you do ballads so effortlessly. I always feel like I'm trying too hard."
"Well, you have my number so you can just call or text me," Kinsley said as they walked away together.
"I don't think you have to ask Kins if she loves her or not," Mason chuckled, making Kiyoung do the same.
"I guess not," he agreed. "What about you though? What did you think?"
"I think you two could be amazing together, as long as you don't fuck this up," Mason joked.
"Oh, I'm gonna try not to," Kiyoung smiled softly.
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