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vibingandsimping · 7 months

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More random intimate positions/scenarios! Pt.2

Morally grey/villain characters this time!

Forewarnings: Dark content… including things like ownership, stalking, gore + obsession. Some pure fluff though :)

(I apologize for this being considerably longer compared to the others. I have been playing some more plus researching the lore. I feel more confident in my understanding of the characters and my writing.)

Gortash had his fingers wrapped around your chin as he beckoned you to look at him. You’re sat in his lap with your hands rested atop his shoulders. His expression is content with how closely pressed you are to his body. He could savor your warmth and read you so intimately. His brown eyes meet yours with a certain warmth laced in all the unwavering dominance. His lips quirk into a smirk as he watches your poorly built facade begin to crumble. His spare hand runs along the small of your back slowly… beckoningly. He'd be the hero of Baldurs Gate soon. He'd have all the power he dreamt of as a boy. Don't you wish to share that with him? His chest purrs when you keen into his touch. Good. He knew you could be a pretty thing for him. Such a formidable foe and he’d have you right by his side.

Minthara had her arms wrapped around your frame protectively. No matter how large or small you were in comparison. She was determined to hold you and plant some sort of reassurance into you. The way she regarded you was not that of any other. No, you were special to her and the woman realized it may not be so clear. She may be a cruel and a standard "drow", but beyond that there was an affection for you within her heart. She plants a kiss against the back of your shoulder-blades and it draws a shudder. Her muscles tighten around you as she presses her face into your shoulder, hot breath washing the junction of your neck and the flesh of your shoulder. You resist a second shudder. Unbeknownst to you, she’d follow you even if it was fruitless. Nothing was shaking her now that she was wrapped around you.

Orin's blade travels down your chest. It was gentle yet sharp... she wasn't particularly aiming to harm you but the thin streak of blood was enticing. The wound was so shallow it barely bubbled- just enough to alert her she broke the skin. Everything about the way she gazed at you was unhinged. You knew if she had pupils they'd be dilated. She draws her face downwards and laps at the tender flesh while you draw a shaky inhale. The whispers of praise and wishes for more barely reached your ears beyond the thrum of your heart. The slimy feel of her tongue worming it’s way up to your collarbones hitch your breath and you watch carefully. Each movement breeds more anticipation- she was soaking in your torment. She was wicked, truly, she devoted herself to you. You’d never understand her… but did you have to?

Ketheric’s hand laced with yours as you walked to his side. He was laid on his throne with open thighs as he acknowledged your presence. The man was aged and once a father. Well, technically still but Isobel regarded him with disowning. He long burned that bridge from his desperation and despair. You entered his life and turned things around. Everyone in Moonrise had never seen him so soft since he lost his daughter and wife. You took a seat on one of his thighs as he drew your hand to his face. His lips planted a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then along your wrist. His beard tickled and caused you laugh, struggling against his hold as he stubbornly refused to let you go. When he finally did his lips were quirked upwards and there was a twinkling in his eye. He never thought he’d take a lover again… so he was glad when you broke down his walls. He’d once curse you for being persistent but now he’d praise you for it.

Raphael tugs on the invisible leash that was wrapped around your neck. You jerk forward on the bed as you kneeled with palms balancing you on the lush fabric. His wings were on grand display as his typically slicked hair tussled ever so slightly. Expression dark and expectant as you slowly crawled toward him. His brows furrowed as he tutted impatiently, a leg swinging out to hook around your thigh and jerk it underneath you. You collapsed as he drew you towards him with little patience. You now sprawled across his lower abdomen and crotch as his chest rumbles in amusement. Your skin burned with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. The hold he had on you, literally and figuratively, elicited a deep part of your brain. One that wished so carnally to be claimed… to be owned. Raphael would see to that, he promised, with one hand stroking your hair. You were such a sweet thing… and if you weren’t so persistent he’d lock you up for himself.

Kar’niss thought of you as a blessing. Truly, a drider like him didn’t deserve such an angel. He was supposed to be punished for all eternity for his shortcomings. He failed once and will never see to being a normal drow again. That’s why it didn’t make sense for him to be rewarded- but who is he to look at a gift with ungratefulness? He always holds you so tenderly… his body shockingly cold. He’s restless today, you note, as his eight legs skitter and his hands curl at you. There’s a flittering look in his face. A hunger he tried to conceal. When you question, he answers truthfully, drider need to feed on blood to survive. Every four days or he’d succumb to weakness and eventually die an empty husk. You offer yourself and he checks you for any hesitancy before diving in. He pierces the flesh with his sharp nails before indulging in the crimson that flowed. Between suckles and licks, he praises you for your generosity. Endless ‘thank you’s’ flow as much as your blood. He’s sure he’d never fallen deeper in love… or was it infatuation?

Haarlep knew their affection for you was essentially forbidden. Raphael handed you as a toy to them. Nothing more and nothing less- they should regard you only for his entertainment. They somehow found themselves wanting to indulge in your mind rather than your flesh after some time. It was your softness that first stunned them and foiled their pure-desire. Raphael never touched themself with such… they could barely find the word. Gentleness? Regard? They’d lay with you after your shared bliss and inch their nails down the side of your hip as you detailed your life. With a hand propping their head; they seemed enchanted. Mesmerized by how simple yet complex of a creature you were to them. Haarlep was a succubus and spent their life serving that purpose. They almost felt jealous of the freedom you held in life. They couldn’t help but find themselves fantasizing a life where you two lived in better circumstances. It was all a fantasy, though, they knew it with a bittersweetness.

Durge had always watched you from afar. Stalking, following and admiring. You caught their gaze amongst the crowd as they deliberately chose their next victim. You would’ve been easy. You didn’t hold yourself with a particular air in the ranks of Baldur’s Gate. Another citizen lost to the crazed killings of a maniac. It wasn’t until you’d noticed you had a secret admirer did your hackles raise. You could feel a pair of eyes on you at the most inopportune times. Then, came the letters at your doorstep detailing how they defied their nature. You could’ve been another hung corpse but instead they wished to wrap their mind around your heart and their lips amongst your neck. A shiver ran through you… a mix of disgust and a strange intrigue? Surely it was the way the letters were so detailed and deranged. You would’ve ignored it all until the stalking emboldened. You saw their figure in the window at night and through the alleyways. It was only a matter of time before they struck and claimed you as theirs. You’d simply have to keep an eye over your shoulder and hold a dagger close. If you could even strike them, that was.

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kentopedia · 4 months

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 6.3k words

PART IV ♰ MASTERLIST

The next evening came quickly, and for the first time in a long while, you were able to sleep through the day. Morning came and went, and the sun faded away without you lying awake, miserable, missing the light of day.

Although Dazai emitted no warmth, you still slept soundly on his chest, the feeling of his arms around you comforting in a way that was undeniable.

When you awoke to another starry sky, clouded over by a mist of smoke, the coffin was empty, and Dazai was gone. The thin blanket pooled at your feet, kicked aside, there for no other reason but for the semblance of a routine where you slept wrapped within soft covers. A beam of light sifted through the cracked coffin, lid pushed to the side, allowing the silver moonlight to caress you gently back to an air of life.

Sitting up, you pushed the coffin lid aside, swallowing the wave of regret that swam through your body. Atsushi’s gentle smile lit up your mind, and you shut your eyes briefly, trying to will it away.

This was a mistake—everything had been a mistake from the moment you’d found Dazai in that bar. It was a mistake to ever think you could drink from him without letting him drag you down with him. Never had you been able to deny yourself the indulgence of his lips, the taste of him so fond in your memories, and you’d been naïve to think this time would be different.

“You slept like the dead,” Dazai said with a cheeky smile, sauntering over to sit at the edge of the bed, staring at you from feet away. Your lips drew together, thin, unamused.

The shift in the air was palpable, the string of oxygen between you pulled tight. Though, you were grateful that Dazai was the one to break the silence, as you still mulled over something to say, observing the subtle little changes in his countenance.

For one, you couldn’t recall a time that he had ever looked so happy, so carefree. A brightness had resumed itself, as if only on pause for half of a century, erasing the resentment, the bitter hatred that had clouded it. The smile on his dark lips tugged upward easily, his eyes an ambered brown, rather than the black that they had once been.

Things were different—that much was certain. Whatever had transpired between the two of you couldn’t be erased, nor could you eradicate the guilt that had threatened to swallow you whole. The two options clashed against each other; a loss too great on both sides. At the end of it all, your feelings for both Atsushi and Dazai were overwhelming, and complicated.

But you couldn’t think, not when Dazai was so close. Not when you were a moth, and he was the flame, burning bright, and only growing more vicious.

“I need to go home,” you said, gathering your shoes, the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

A beat of silence lingered in the room, settling on the hardwood floors, the soles of your feet, before Dazai stood, his footsteps not making a single sound.

“After all that?” Dazai asked, and though he would never let his surprise show so openly, you knew he’d believed you’d been won over.

That’s all it would’ve taken, back then—a few sweet words, your lips on his, gentle hands across your skin. But you were not the woman you’d once been, and though you were still weak, you’d developed some strength.

“After everything, how can you still doubt that we are meant to be together?”

You pinched your face together, wondering if you were a fool for running back to Atsushi. If your love for the mortal man was only a means to an end, a way for you to forget the clutch that another vampire had around your heart. How Dazai’s fingers could squeeze their way around your arteries, and you would watch, blindly, as the blood trickled down his palm.

Was it love or hate you felt? Of both, you were uncertain.

“Osamu,” you said, shaking your head, your gaze drifting towards the window. What a mess you’d made. “I need some time to think.”

That relaxed him; the tautness of his frame slowly began to melt away. “Time.” He nodded, dark hair falling over even darker eyes. “Okay. I can give you that.”

“I love him, Osamu.”

“You love me too. You can deny it all you want, but I know that you do.”

You looked over at him, blinking from under your lashes. “I don’t know what I feel for you. It was not so long ago that you destroyed me. I have hated you as strongly as I once loved you.”

His face twitched, fingers flexing at his sides. The age old tells of his anger, just as prevalent as the stars in the sky, never ceasing to appear at the end of every day. “Will you never forgive me?” he asked, clenching his jaw, tongue appearing in his cheek. “I have given you everything I have to offer. Your life… my life.”

“You haven’t given me patience, Osamu. You haven’t given me the chance to believe that your love is worth the pain that comes with it.”

Dazai looked away, chest rising and falling with the air he didn’t breathe, but made himself anyway, keeping up the appearance of a human being. He had always been so much better at that – perhaps it was the reason he had lived this long. No one had doubted his place in the world, had mistaken him for a monster, unlike the innocent lives that had been lost to such a slaughter.

“Is patience really something I can offer when you are to wed another? Surely your fiancé will grow weary of waiting,” he said, stepping closer, expression serious, devoid of his usual smugness. “You want time, but it is slipping through my fingers.”

“You have nothing left but time.” You shook him off, ignoring the pulsating need that thrummed through your body, never satiated, always wanting more. Your gaze flicked to his vein, then away, as you pushed past him, headed to the door. “Don’t come after me. I will not give you any more chances.”

Dazai said nothing, irritated, but he let you go, and you escaped into the dark haze of the midnight.

Your meetings with Dazai stalled for a few days, as Atsushi returned, and you were left with a muddled mind and a mix of contradicting thoughts. It was best anyway, you figured, to put some distance between you and Dazai, in order for you to work out exactly what it was that was going on.

Despite the conflict you felt within yourself—for wanting to love Dazai once more, for wanting to hate him—you didn’t entirely trust him. Years of memories pointed to a Dazai that was so similar, yet vastly different from the version he presented to you. One that was just as manipulative, conniving, yet held a loyalty and a steadfast love for you that had since been unbroken.

Though, love was easily faked, especially for someone like Osamu. You, with your weak heart, were probably falling right into his trap. How foolish you would be to leave a perfectly good life behind for a man that you could never fully trust, despite how much you yearned for him.

Yet, he never left your mind, always lingering like a curse. Some part of you wondered if there was a deeper magic at play, if maybe, the bond between you as creation and maker had tied you so intricately together than you would always long for him.

But you knew nothing of that…if magic existed outside of the bloodsucking demons that you had joined, if there was a world out there of other supernatural entities you knew nothing about.

Still, it would explain nearly all of your everlasting woes. How Dazai could fuck up time and time again, and you would still crawl back to him, albeit reluctantly. How you craved his blood like a brainless addict, sacrificing your pride for just another hit.

You hoped, if even a little bit, that that was true. At least, that way, you could explain your desperation for him without it being something as complex as love. Something that you could avoid, if you really tried, rather than letting yourself indulge, thinking that you couldn’t help it.

It was cold when Atsushi returned, the weather already growing fickle as autumn bled into winter. He looked better, his eyes brighter, his skin less pale than it had been when he left. His hair seemed freshly scrubbed, clean from a bath at whatever hotel he’d visited for the few nights of escape.

Though, under his softer complexion, you could see the weight that still rested on Atsushi’s shoulders, and the burden that he’d worn for the past few weeks.

Smiling, you watched as he walked through the door, trudging in his heavy boots. There was certainly more life to him now, now that he wasn’t constantly sent on missions, awake for hours into the evening, until his eyes ran bloodshot.

“I missed you,” you said, stretching your arms over to him, body reacting to him, just as it did Dazai. The joy that spread across you was warm, despite the lack of utter feeling that something lingered in your chest.

Atsushi relaxed, then, tension falling from his shoulders. Almost like he’d expected you to start the conversation a different way – a thought that you instantly sequestered.

“I missed you too, honey,” Atsushi said, leaning down to peck your lips, his hair brushing across your forehead. “Everything okay while I was gone?”

Words of a dutiful husband, lover, friend – despite that fact that anyone who could have possibly hurt you wouldn’t be fazed by the presence of a human.

“Everything’s been fine,” you hummed, ignoring the vision of you on Dazai’s thighs that flashed into your mind, your teeth digging into the flesh of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

Atsushi looked at you for a moment longer, memorizing each of your features after just a few days away, and put on a gentle smile. His fingers grazed the sharp hollows of your cheeks, the coldness of your skin sending a shiver down his arm. Goosebumps trailed along his flesh, the hair standing straight up, but he didn’t seem bothered. Not after two years of the same routine.

“I’m better.” The words held little conviction, though, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was something bothering him still.

Or you were just paranoid that he had somehow found out you were protecting Dazai.

Protecting.

Was that the word? You’d been trying to protect Atsushi, hadn’t you? By keeping him away from Dazai. Yet, the more you lingered on it, the more you began to question if that was even the case at all.

Atsushi kissed the wrinkle that formed on your forehead, and you held his hand tightly against your cheek, grounding yourself. How much better things would be if Dazai had left in the first place, if he’d just stayed far away, and never approached you at your party. Had never killed anyone in your town, overworking your partner and murdering your neighbors.

“I’m glad,” you said, instead of focusing on things that could’ve been. You brushed Atsushi’s hair away from his face, his hair so much softer than you remembered—cleaner. “You look better. I’m glad you were able to get some rest.”

“Yeah, well,” Atsushi sighed, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much of a difference it made. I’ll just be heading back into work tomorrow. They’ve found more bodies, I hear. I’m sure I’ll just be back to where I was before soon. Everyone’s exhausted.”

You frowned again, pausing your gentle caress against the back of Atsushi’s palm. So that was what was wrong with him. You’d been so busy with Dazai, that you hadn’t even stopped to think that he was still killing people. It seemed you’d been caring for little other than yourself, these days.

“Good thing they’ve got their best detective back, then,” you said, trying for a more light-hearted tone. “I’m sure you’ll be able to solve this in no time, Atsushi.”

Still, he seemed unconvinced—but he kissed your forehead one more time, relaxing. He left you, then, to change out of his day clothes before sliding back into bed. It had been days since you’d last fed off of Dazai’s blood, but you didn’t feel so reckless, so hungry, that this sort of proximity left you with an aching need to bite Atsushi. Instead, you felt warm, consoled by his presence, and reminded of how gentle you could be, despite your nature.

“I love you,” you said quietly, as he slowly began to drift off, his breathing turning into a snore. “I hope you never forget it.”

A little laugh left him, but something about it seemed nervous—had you really left Atsushi to doubt your affection for him? Though, after all the things you’d done, you probably deserved that sort of karma.

“I know,” Atsushi said, humming, squeezing your hand under the covers. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that I’m certain of.”

The memory of Atsushi’s words left a sour taste in your mouth that lingered as you slept through the day, a palpable anger tensing your body. The rage ran rampant through you from all of Dazai’s lies, promises that he had not kept. At the truth that he’d admitted before – that everything he’d done was to keep Atsushi occupied and away from you.

Dazai was not at the bar when you went the next night, and Atsushi worked late, still out when you left your home after sundown. And when you returned, with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by the gutter rats, your fiancé slept, soundly, hardly alert enough to hear your footsteps against the creaky floors.

You sat in the corner of the room, staring at the cracks of moonlight that brightened into orange rays, wishing once more that you could brush your fingertips along them, if only for a moment, to remember what it was like to be alive.

The routine continued. Anger consumed you, but Dazai didn’t return to the bar the next night. Or the night after that.

“Are you eating enough?” Atsushi had said that morning, the sixth day that you had gone without Dazai’s blood. You’d become irritable, snapping at him over the smallest things.

Digging your nails into your arm, the scarlet warmth dripping down to your elbow as you tried to distract yourself from the thrumming through Atsushi’s veins, you’d nodded and changed the subject.

You knew that you looked awful, and your promises were not believed by Atsushi. Your faded complexion was ghastly, inhuman. How easy it would be to give yourself away to others, for them to see that your humanity and morality was but a farce – it was much too obvious now, that you walked around looking like you’d just crawled out of the grave.

Dazai did not show up at the bar again, and desperately, you went to his hotel, hopeful that he had not moved.

It was loud outside of the building, despite nearing midnight. A crowd of drunk men loitered outside of the building, cheering their glasses together. They sang a plethora of songs in untuned keys, stumbling over their feet to get to one another. Women lined the streets, silk dresses with revealing necklines, smiling for men who would never be able to deserve them.

Despite the scene outside, the hotel was relatively quiet, many of the tenants asleep for the night. The clerk at the front desk seemed unbothered that you waltzed in, already headed towards the stairs, without bothering to speak with him.

You had been in such a disoriented state the last time you’d been here that you’d forgotten to look around, take in the atmosphere of the hotel. It was, really, a miracle that you’d even found your way there.

It wasn’t much on the outside, modest and unassuming, and the interior was anything but. Bright colors of gold and green that you only vaguely remembered from your previous visit adorned the inside, leather couches circling a vast library of books. A pair of older men, smoking cigars, fumbled over a game of chess, their shadowy eyes revealing that they were both desperate to call it quits. A young woman, perhaps the same age that you’d been when you died, perched in a chair, wearing a beautiful gown of rose pink, soothed a crying infant.

It was certainly with its’ grandeur, though that was to be expected, with the centuries of wealth Dazai had lining his pockets. You couldn’t imagine he’d stay anywhere less than impressive.

The man at the desk smiled at you in recognition, and you realized that you must have spoken to him when you’d last been here – or, Dazai had told him to let you pass if you were to come. Just another way you’d fallen into his trap, an endless scheme that was nothing more than a game to him. You were being played, not the other way around.

Still, you trudged up the stairs like a wounded soldier, surrendering. The rage had settled deep within your chest, flattening. Even with the betrayal that encompassed your memories of Dazai, you would always turn into a different sort of person when you were hungry.

Before you could regret your actions, you knocked on the door, once, then again, running your hands along the smooth skin of your forearms. There was a noise from inside, a soft sort of giggle, before the door opened, revealing Dazai, eyes dark, but a smile on his face, nonetheless.

“There you are,” he said, closing his fingers around your wrists, pulling you through the threshold before anyone could see you. He seemed to be clouded over with affection, or lust—but of which, you weren’t certain. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

He kissed you, then, soft, and gently, the way that Atsushi greeted you when you returned home. It was too loving, the quick peck of Dazai’s lips, and you scowled, drawing backwards, the irritation resurfacing.

“Osamu,” you said, sharply, creating a clear division between you and him. “I told you –”

But the words died on your lips when you glanced behind him, noticing the pretty, young woman that was perched on the end of the bed. She laughed again, cheeks flushed red under her tanned skin, dark hair flat across her shoulders. The woman gave you a small little wave, not in the slightest embarrassed, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

You blinked, drawing your gaze slowly away from her, back to Dazai, who was still grinning, teeth glinting in the moonlight, predatory and wicked. His expression was a clear vision of all the reasons you should have stayed far away from him, why what little trust you had for him would continue to rise and fall, until you’d gone so many steps backwards that you would be right where you had been.

“What—” But you stopped yourself, trying to gather the right words, to not sound like a jealous fiend, while still demanding answers.

Dazai, to his credit, and all of his promises that things were different this time, did not give you a chance to finish your sentence. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said, gesturing back towards her, before licking his lips. “I’m not… Not like that.”

You stared at him; eyes hard as you searched for a lie. But he’d always been so talented at dishonesty, and you had never been very good at sorting the truth out of fraudulence. “Then what is it? You’re bringing your dinner back to your room now, for no reason? How do you plan to get rid of the body, Osamu? You’re going to have to leave, you know. Someone could see.”

Though, that thought should’ve made you happier, you realized that you almost sounded disappointed, that you were helping him, when you’d been telling yourself to expel him from your city for months.

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m certainly not worried about any of the detectives in this town,” he said, the jab at your fiancé not going unnoticed. “I’ve thrown them off my trail enough times at this point.”

You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself in protection as Dazai led you forward, a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Besides, she’s not for me, darling.”

The words took a moment to sink in, as you stared at the woman, so peaceful, unassuming, despite everything that she’d clearly heard. You could hear her heart beating under her skin, the color in her cheeks so bright and warm, nothing even close to death. Long breaths escaped her, and she smiled at you, so sweetly, that for a moment, you were considering –

Before the reality of the situation dawned upon you, and you jerked out of Dazai’s hold, away from the young woman, and slapped your former lover across the cheek.

The sound resounded through the room, but the force did little to even jerk his cheek. He stayed still, amused, and held your wrist loosely in his palm once more. “Would you listen—”

“I don’t feed off humans anymore,” you said, your words sharp, eyes narrowed angrily. “I promised myself two years ago that I would not, and I have been true to my word. Yet, here you are, the vilest creature I have ever set my sights upon, trying to lead me back down a road that leads to nothing but emptiness.”

Dazai blinked, before erupting into a fit of laughter. “A tad dramatic, even for you, my love. This is but a manifestation of your very nature as a vampire.” His gaze drew across your features, the way your hunger was evident in the curl of your fangs over your lips, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from lunging at the poor woman. “You cannot deny the hunger that you feel—”

“It’s wrong, Osamu,” you spat bitterly, thinking of your mortal fiancé back home, who would not deserve this sort of end. How easily he could’ve been the one lured to the wolves’ den by Dazai, sitting on the bed of a vampire, none the wiser to the fact that he was to be someone’s dinner. “I was once a human too, was I not?”

Dazai laughed once more, mocking you, this time. For clinging onto the little bit of humanity that you had left, even after all this time. “As was I. But how long has it been since you were human?”

You said nothing.

Dazai crept closer, eyes like a hawk, so sharp and pointed along every line of your body. They flashed a deep ebony, drowning out the sweet caramel colors that always lingered in his irises. “You have always deluded yourself, and you continue to do so.” His fingers were back against your cheek, like long, protruding icicles, against even your icy flesh. “You feel so much better when I’m the one doing the killing, that you can’t see that drinking from me is just as bad as doing the killing yourself.”

Your jaw slackened, falling open, and, despite your better judgement, you let him draw his fingertips across your lips, softly smiling at the delicate feeling of them. “What do you mean?”

“I kill twice as many humans to keep up with your ever-increasing appetite. You might as well have done the deed on your own.” Dazai drew the words out, bored, waving his hand dismissively. And though you had to have known that, could feel in the deepest depths of your soul that that was true, you’d been all too happy to ignore it.

To continue on believing that your choice to use him as a blood source was for the benefit of not only you, but the humans you refused to kill, to bleed to death.

Dazai pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the feeling of his lips, a touch so sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. “You can feed from her without killing her,” he said, drawing you closer and closer to the woman, though you felt stiff as your regret whirled under your skin. Dazai held you to his chest, and you let him, basking in the familiar touch, the familiar hatred and love baked into one emotion that had always confused you.

“You won’t stop me,” you said, mouth moving, though the words didn’t entirely feel your own. You stared at the girl over Dazai’s shoulder, who seemed in a drunk daze, Dazai’s manipulation working against her. “You’ll say you will, but you’re a liar, Dazai.”

“I will. I’ve stopped you before, haven’t I?” he pulled back, meeting your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You began to object, to remind him of how little his promises meant to you, but you could feel the hunger multiplying, it’s claws deep inside of you. It felt like a physical force on its own, and you couldn’t remember a time when you had been so at its mercy, except when you were first reborn, a foolish child with Dazai’s blood coursing through your veins.

And though you wanted to hate him, to blame him for all of your troubles, to call him nothing but a deceiver, you wondered if he really had been telling the truth. If all your years of rejecting human blood had turned you back into the version of yourself that you had not been in a century, of a young vampire who had no control in the face of human blood.

“I’m stronger than you,” Dazai said, following the line of thought in your head, swiping his fingers across the wrinkle there. “It will help you. You won’t crave my blood so often.”

“It won’t taste as good.”

Dazai laughed at the small pout that puckered on your lips, and though you had meant to only think the words, they slipped out anyways. He kissed the frown away, startling you, and yet, you kissed him back, if only for a moment.

“I know it won’t, sweetheart.” Dazai licked his own lips, savoring the taste of you that remained. “But it’ll be better than those rats you’ve been eating, won’t it?”

Always so persuasive, that sharp tongue of his. How easily he could get you to cave with the promise of something so divine, and the lustful glint that coiled in his eyes. You held onto the single shred of morality that was slowly dissipating as you contemplated his sincerity. Then, you let it go, released, and nodded.

Satisfaction curled across Dazai’s expression, and he pulled you over to the bed, the woman, blinking up at you from under her thick lashes. She smiled, almost playful, and another giggle escaped her. “She’s prettier than you promised.”

Dazai, eyes glued to you, softened. “Isn’t she? There’s no one else quite like her.”

For all your resentment towards Dazai, you felt the curl of warm satisfaction spread across your chest, and you glanced away bashfully, hating how he still looked at you with such love. How hard it was getting, every day, to ignore the fact that, maybe, everything he did really was for you and you alone.

“Sit beside her, my love,” Dazai said, leading you to one side of the bed, guiding you into a seated position. Your knees brushed against the human’s, and she pressed it closer, tilting her head away to expose the vein that protruded along her neck.

“Osamu—” you said, glancing up at him with doubt. “I will kill her if you don’t stop me.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t stop me, I will hate you forever.”

His smile widened, a grimace almost, but he acknowledged that with a nod, and waved his hand, urging you to continue.

You dragged your gaze away from him, back to the impatient woman, who was far too excited for you to slowly drain the life from her. She placed a soft hand on your thigh, the warmth seeping through your skirt, a reminder of the life she had swirling in her veins.

It was enough to propel you forward, and you breathed along her collarbone, ignoring the annoying pang of your heart that wished it was Dazai instead. Your fangs sunk into her neck, and the blood rushed along your tongue, down your throat, a flash of white snapping across your vision.

The thoughts drained from your mind, and you were no longer inside yourself, losing your senses in the sensation of the blood, and how warm it felt in your mouth as it settled in your body. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, and you dragged her closer, hearing a soft little moan leave her mouth as you sucked your lips harder.

It was nowhere near the exhilarating rush of Dazai’s blood, but it was warmer, more satisfying, similar to the fullness you’d received after eating a slab of red meat as a human. You weren’t tethered to the girl like you were your maker, but it was different getting the fresh human blood from the source.

You felt stupid, silly, for always rejecting the need to drink from mortals, when you could remember how good it felt. That was all it would take for you to not feel so empty, day in and day out, only longing for the days when you had never cared at all. It seemed nothing more than a daydream – those days when you were just as bad as Dazai, who had always killed and enjoyed it.

“Enough, my darling,” Dazai said, pinching your jaw, slowly coaxing you off of the woman, careful not to tear her throat while your teeth still latched on.

You tried to push him away, a deep sound reverberating in the back of your throat, but Dazai thrust his slit wrist in front of you, the smell overwhelming, better than the scent of the woman’s sweet blood and perfume.

“I have something better,” he smiled, running his hand over the top of your head as he stood before you, looking far too godly in the silver moonlight. “And I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer, too busy swallowing the large gulps you had taken of his blood, softly kissing the skin that had broken there. Your nails curled into his forearm, pulling him close as his palm rested on the top of your head, fingertips lightly scratching against your scalp.

“Dazai—” the girl began, and though you were irritated that he’d even told her his name, the blood soothed you as it rushed down your throat.

“Thank you for your generosity, my dear.” Dazai said to her, in that deep, soothing voice of his that he used to compel humans. “You won’t be needed any longer. Go downstairs and forget any of this evening even happened.”

In a trance, the woman left, woozy, still full of laughter as she stumbled across the floor. Her hair had fallen from the clips, dress strap slipping off her shoulder, but Dazai didn’t bother to tell her. Instead, when you came off of his wrist, a gasp expelling from your lungs, Dazai pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you, kissing all over your face.

Your eyes shot wide for just a moment, before you relaxed into him, threading your fingers through his hair, let him taste his own blood on your mouth. His tongue darted across your bottom lip, swiping the blood that had gathered there, before he moaned, the sound a vibration against your skin.

“Fuck,” he said, coaxing your hands from his scalp, pinning them to the bed. You could feel him straining against his pants, his clothed cock brushing up against your thigh. “The things you do to me.” Dazai kissed up your neck, across your jaw, lacing your fingers together. A soft sigh left you, and you let your head rest delicately on the bed. “I love you,” he whispered, just beneath your jaw, words so gentle that you began to believe them.

You glanced up as he backed away, hair falling down over his forehead as he stared at you, caressing your cheek. The haze of his blood still consumed you, but you felt so light under his hold, like the burdens of your entire life could fade away entirely from his touch. “Osamu,” you began, kissing his fingertips, though the smile didn’t pull entirely on your face, too uncertain.

He sighed, and then sat up, his knees still on either side of your hips, a frown furrowing his features. You crawled out from under him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, before he pushed you back, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” you said, reaching for him, even as he evaded your grasp.

Dazai sat at the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, expression vacant. He didn’t answer your question immediately, and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You laughed, dizzy, as you crawled over to him. “What do you mean, Osamu?”

But once again, he evaded your touch, standing, stalking to the other side of the room, holding only a loose rope on his anger. “I miss you. So badly. I want you; I love you, but I don’t know how to make you come back to me.” He glanced at you, and you could see the hurt in his expression, before he sat at the table, arms crossed over his chest. “My blood… does that to you, and it makes me think that maybe, things can go back to the way they were before.” He sighed, dropping his head. “Instead, everything I do just seems to make you hate me more.”

You blinked, feeling discarded on the bed, and you slumped forward, before making your way to your feet. Your dress had wrinkled, and you smoothed it back out, straightened the straps, fixed your hair. Still, Dazai wouldn’t look at you, and you were struck by his vulnerability, the earnestness in his expression. “I just—” you began, but you had no idea where you were planning to take that statement, too focused on the cloudiness that lingered in his gaze. “Osamu…”

“Go home,” he said, jaw clenched, before he looked up at you, his features schooled into another neutral position. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

You frowned, fingers tensing at your sides before you relaxed them. “That’s not fair.”

Dazai glared. “What’s not fair is the fact that you only want me when I give you my blood. What’s not fair is me loving you with every ounce of my being, for centuries, only to find you again with a human. What’s not fair is—”

“You’re not innocent, Osamu,” you said quietly, lip quivering as you tried to think rationally, but you just couldn’t. Every part of you was pulsing with need for him, and though it had never been a problem when you were together, it was a problem now. “You hurt me. I’m trying. I don’t know how to forgive you, but at least I’m trying.”

He stared back at you, an entire minute passing before he spoke again. “You have always been the same as me. Always as awful as you want to claim I am,” he said lowly, sniffing back his indignation. “Every horrible thing I’ve done, you’ve done too. The blood on my hands is on yours also. For every woman I took to bed, you took twice as many men.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, aching, as you looked away. “You left me to die, Osamu. You left me. The vampire hunters came for us, and –”

“God,” he laughed, darkly, shaking his head. “Even now, you don’t believe a word I say. You think, I would’ve left you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“They told me you were dead. Everyone. I came back for you, but you were already gone. I mourned you for decades. And now I’ve found you again…” Dazai trailed off, realizing that you were staring at him curiously, the feeling of drunkenness slowly evaporating from your conscious. “You know what… It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” A bitter laugh came out of your throat. “You never tell me anything,” you said pointedly, hugging yourself tightly and turning away. “Every time I think I understand you, we take one hundred steps backwards.”

He glared, jaw tight, though fleetingly. The tension smoothed back out, and he sat tall, looking bored, and annoyed by your very presence. “Would it make a difference?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’ll continue to hate me, just because it’s easier.”

You blinked, lips parting briefly before you decided not to even argue with him. Around and around you’d go, at the end of the day, talking each other in circles until you’d gotten so lost, you couldn’t even remember where the conversation had started. “I suppose.”

“Then you better go home. The sun will start to rise soon. I don’t think you’ll want to spend another night here.”

For a moment longer, you watched him, waiting for any slight change in his expression—and when there was none, you turned, and headed towards the door. As you pulled it shut behind you, escaping into the dim hallway, you took one look back at the old vampire, the man you didn’t want yourself to love. But he was ignoring you, easily, his gaze fixated on a point on the opposite side of the room.

You frowned and let the door latch shut.

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @cheriiyaya @iluv-ace @kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @flourescentadolescent1 @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @chosos-mascara @lacunaanonymousd @vljiki @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer

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ronwestbreeze · 5 months

Text

bow to me

pairing: geto suguru x non-sorcerer!reader warnings: gore and violence, use of the word "monkey" lol summary: you're your mother's deadliest sin word count: 5.1k author's note: i had fun with this one, hehe. hope you guys like it <3

part 1 | read on AO3

You weren’t a cursed spirit.

Or maybe you were, you weren’t necessarily well-versed in the world of curses and sorcerers. You just knew them by name.

You weren’t human.

Well, maybe you were, just a different kind. Cursed.

Yeah.

Maybe you were cursed.

There was an eerie quiet now. Your mind had never been so quiet. Not in a long time.

It was a rarity. This silence.

You decided that this was what peace felt like and that you weren’t going to let it go. You weren’t going to deny yourself any longer.

In the end, it was pathetically funny. Pretending to be normal whenever you never were. From birth, you had always been like this. So, you leaned back in the chair, your arm covering your face, and laughed.

And laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

It was hilarious.

The bodies lying at your feet were quiet as stone. But you figured they’d laugh too if they were alive.

Once your laughter went to giggles, you peeked over your arm and stared up at the ceiling fan.

“You’re your mother’s deadliest sin.” You sang to yourself. At least that’s what your father always said.

“She’s saved!”

Applause.

You dropped your face into your hands and shivered. Bile coated your throat, tightened with such conviction. But none of it was from the stench of the bodies around you. It wasn’t the taste of flesh on your tongue.

Tears spilled out of your eyes uncontrolled.

You laughed. You cried. You couldn’t really tell anymore.

“You won’t have to suffer anymore.”

Applause.

What the hell were they clapping for?

You opened your eyes, staring straight at one of the bodies lying down in front of you. Lifeless eyes that were once pleading for mercy, staring back at you. And for an instant, that little voice—the you a year ago, still trying to be human, still trying to live life as a regular sixteen-year-old—whimpered.

What am I doing?

You were cursed.

No, no, no, I promised I would. I promised!

Your father saw you as a blessing.

What am I doing? This isn’t me. This isn’t—

And your mother died for it.

“Now you can rest, my sweet girl.”

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Your breathing was shaky. But your body gave in multiple times. You sat up straighter, taking in all the bodies in the small living room.

Perhaps, you went a little far this time.

Then again, you’ve been hungry for a long time now.

“Do you have any more rice balls?”

You remembered their little faces so vividly. The only memory you allowed to snake its way through your mind while pushing everything else back into the tight box. So detailed. Precious. Undeserving of this world.

You failed them. You should’ve fought harder and killed the townspeople yourself.

Unfortunately, someone had beaten you to it.

2007

It’s been a pretty hellish day.

Granted, it might’ve been partially your fault.

You had gone on another binge but made sure to keep the bodies to a minimum of five this time around. But you supposed that was still too much because it drew some unwanted attention.

Usually, you kept to yourself at an abandoned hospital south of Tokyo. That was where you fed and left the bodies to rot. No one questioned it since many locals tended to stay away from the hospital. Something about it being haunted.

The haunted part was also, technically your fault but that’s beside the point.

Earlier in the day, it was pretty regular. You had a new job working at a café which gave you a lot of access to coffee in case you got a little squirmy around people, especially flesh. And the job had been pretty steady, you’ve been in the city for about half a year now. And it’s been pretty simple.

You’ve somewhat learned to control your hunger, choosing certain days to feed. Choosing the type of people to feed from, such as perverted men or just men in general whenever you felt extra pissed that day. Rarely did you go after women unless you were really, really hungry.

Children were off limits.

Sorcerers were a rarity. And all the more fun.

So what you expected as your usual day suddenly turned interesting when an older man you were serving started asking you strange questions.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not on the menu, sir.” Was your casual answer with the usual customer service smile.

The man grinned, “Wow, you almost seem convincing. I’m impressed.” He leaned his elbows on the table with a smug smirk, “Curses have gotten so advanced in this day in age, especially compared to when I first started.”

You kept your face neutral, “Sir, are you going to order or not?”

You weren’t human.

You knew this.

“Tell me,” The man continued, pinning you in place with an intense gaze. “How were you able to hide from us for so long?”

Now you were irritated. Strange how quickly that happened these days.

Instead of taking his obvious bait, you offered a sweet smile, “I’ll go get you another waitress. And when you’re ready to order she’ll help you.” You tucked your notepad into the pocket of your apron. “I have other tables to attend to. Excuse me.”

After a quick bow, you left his table. He didn’t stop you either with another strange question or observation.

This was going to be a long day. But you couldn’t help the secret grin tugging at your lips as you entered the kitchen.

“Heh.”

“And where is the curse now?”

The human man, Geto never bothered to learn his name, swallowed nervously, “It was at the hospital for awhile and then, well, we lost it for a second—but we managed to track it down to a local café. Since then, the curse hasn’t left.”

Geto hummed and stood from the altar, “Any sorcerers?”

“One found it. But updates have told me neither of them have left the café yet.”

The curse was elusive, Geto figured. A month ago was the first time he received word about it. There were many bodies left in its wake, so it sounded like they were quite the powerful curse. A special grade, perhaps.

It’s just that no one has managed to catch a glance of it. But apparently, it was attached to a human girl.

Simple enough.

“Bring Larue. We’re taking a small trip.” Geto smiled passively at the man. “You’re of no use to me anymore.”

He should’ve sent Larue in the first place instead of this monkey. A mistake he would not make again. While yes, the human could see curses, he was still of little use to Geto-sama. Plus, he was slightly irritated that he nearly lost the curse.

That deserved some form of punishment.

Geto sent him another smile, “Why don’t I award you accordingly?”

A curse appeared next to him, startling the human into a frightful scream as he stumbled off and ran.

“Make sure to go and find Larue for me whenever you can!” Geto called happily as the man kept screaming further into one of the temple corridors.

After a moment, he dusted his robes off and sighed, “Alright then. Time to get to work.”

“Huh, I thought you’d last longer.”

You mumbled as your kagune tore straight through the sorcerer’s abdomen and pinned him against the now scarlet-stained wall. By now you were sure that all the coffee was filled with drips of blood from all the deathly pale customers and former co-workers. How unfortunate.

The sorcerer didn’t respond or move. At this point, you were talking to a corpse.

“Aw, man! Now I have to get a whole new job.” You pouted, letting the body drop to the floor with the rest. “You see what you made me do? Could’ve left me be, serving gross-ass coffee. But you just had to play hero—not a very good one—but a hero, nonetheless.”

You allowed your kagune to retreat into your spine and get off the front counter. “Now how should I paint this canvas? Leave you all as is? Let the humans believe this to be a random homicide?” You stuck your tongue out, “Bleh, boring!” You knelt in front of the dead sorcerer and found yourself giggling as if he told you a joke, "Or maybe you killed them all and then yourself. Yeah, seems fitting. Sure to keep the rest of your kind off my back for a little bit. Including the humans.”

With that, you nodded to yourself and hummed a catchy tune to yourself as you went to grab a knife from the kitchen. After dancing to the song in your head, you stabbed the sorcerer in the abdomen multiple times until it was coated in his blood.

The whiff of the blood was delicious and you couldn’t help but get a few licks before putting the knife in his limp hand.

For a moment, you remained crouched in front of him. Staring straight at this corpse. Wondering when you became so used to the blood. To finding flesh so delicious.

Guess you couldn’t help who you were in the end.

Was it sad? Was it relieving?

You couldn’t say.

With a sigh, you stood, instantly catching movement in the reflection of the café front window.

“Hi, there.”

You barely had time to turn and see who else was in the café with you.

It felt as if an invisible chain yanked you back.

And everything turned black. Though, you weren’t unconscious.

And here entered the hellish part of the day.

Perhaps it wasn’t simple.

When Geto saw the curse for himself, he originally, only saw a human. But upon further inspection, he saw it. That cursed spirit. It was just hidden by that human cover.

Was it inside of the human? Was it even attached?

Or was the human the curse?

Either way, he was able to capture it and swallow it down like all the others.

The taste was strange though. Putrid like the rest but there was a sweetness to it. It was a pleasant surprise. Apart of him wished he could taste her all over again. The type of sweetness that was addicting. What a nasty drug.

It was definitely a special grade. That much was clear.

Useful. He needed power like this on his side. He was lucky to have caught it first before those sorcerers could.

Well, technically the dead sorcerer did find it first but didn’t have much time to exorcise it. Clearly.

He chuckled at the scene before him, “Well, aren’t you a gruesome little thing.”

And it was his to claim.

Proud of his recent accomplishment, he and Larue went back to the temple with more work awaiting them, well for Geto mostly.

“They’re all waiting for you, sir.” One of his followers informed him.

Next to him, Larue grinned, “Another speech tonight, Geto-sama?”

“That’s where I do my work best.” Geto smiled with a nod as he walked to the main room.

Upon entering, dozens of followers left from the Time Vessel Association got on their knees and pressed their foreheads to the matted floor.

“We live in a disease. Sickness everywhere we look.” Geto took his seat at the altar, brushing out his robes. “And it is our job to get rid of it. To clean this world of monkeys. And I recognize that many of you are hungry for that. But all followers must be guided in the right direction.” His smile grew as they kept their heads down. None of them dared to look him in the eyes as he spoke. They respected him. They adored him.

It’s what he deserved.

“You all obey me now if you wish to live and see the world we create.” No one objected to this. Larue stood further at the back with a proud smile. “Do you trust me to lead you all without question? If not—”

It’s as if for a short moment, he wasn’t in control of his body. His stomach twisted into painful knots, and his throat both retracted and tightened until he finally lurched forward and retched the ball with the curse out onto the matted floor.

“Geto-sama!”

That had to be Larue’s voice. But Geto couldn’t hear much of him. Not with a bleary mind, dazed in confusion and shock.

Yes, in the past he had vomited after swallowing curses. But they never came back up.

What the hell?

You weren’t sure where you’d end up after scaping but you sure as hell wasn’t expecting to be standing before a bunch of people, bowing but staring at you in utter shock and delicious fear.

Of course, you were still pissed about being captured but your lips lifted upward into a smirk at the sight. That is until your eyes caught on an old insignia on the wall.

The symbol for the Time Vessel Association.

You scoffed, “You guys never give up, huh?” You wiped the leftover blood off your lips and grinned, “Can’t even let it go after almost three years? That’s fine, I guess. More food for me.”

In your mouth, your canines began to ache just as your eyes locked on one of the men. Frozen in fear at the sight of you. Looking like he was just about ready to run out of there.

“Excuse me.”

The voice rang in your ears. Coming from behind you like at the café. Lazily, you glanced over your shoulder only to be met with the last person you ever expected to see.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t eat my loyal followers.”

You didn’t recognize him at first. His hair was longer, and he wore a kasaya over his black robes—but his smile was the same, just with something a lot more sinister.

“Hey,” You mused with a raised brows, “You killed me last year. And took my girls.”

He stared at you too—you were sure he recognized you too with the subtle look of familiarity flashing in his eyes.

Of course, he recognized you.

The sweet store clerk from that village. The non-sorcerer that had made him falter back then—only by a little.

His conviction about it had been long resolved though. To him, you were just like the rest of them. A monkey.

Although, you looked quite different with blood tattooed onto your face, clothes, and body. Wearing it proudly like a second skin.

Showing little reaction to recognizing you was easy.

But it was the way you said ‘my girls’ that made his fingers twitch and his smile become stiff.

“Larue. The meeting’s ending early. Please, escort everyone out. Some important matters that need tending to.”

After the man, Larue, gave you one last cautious stare—you didn’t bother sparing him a look—he led the rest of the group out of the room. Leaving only you and this man. A cult leader if you had to guess.

“I didn’t think you were close with the girls.” He mused as he began circling you, brown eyes staring intently at every part of your body. Almost as if he were looking for something.

“Yeah? How could you after you killed me?” You threw back easily, unmoving from your spot as you let him circle you. It was a little game, you thought. You would pretend to be the prey while you let him be the predator. “Didn’t leave me much room to say anything more either. Not with your—you still on that whole killing humans shit?”

You heard him chuckle faintly behind you, “Yes, I am.”

“Mmm. How quirky of you.”

He appeared in your vision, stopping before you with his hands tucked behind his back. The way he moved was elegant like he was acutely aware of his body and those near it. “I hate to break it to you but they’ve long forgotten about you,” His smirk grew, eyes gleaming as he watched your reaction—or rather something else, you remembered he always did that when the two of you first met. “I made sure of that.”

Of course, he still wanted some reaction from you but it didn’t help that he naturally had the face of a liar—even more now than back then—so you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

The man’s—whom you still had yet to learn the name of—smirk never wavered but he still kept staring. Right through you. “You wouldn’t be meeting them, unfortunately. Not when I’m done with you.”

“Ooh.” A grin left your lips as he continued circling you. “Done with me, huh? By a girl dinner first.” He hummed from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, having to look up only a little to see his face. Your voice was slow when you asked, “What do you plan to do to me?”

There was a chuckle as he slipped from behind you to appear in front of you once more. “So are you a vengeful spirit? I don’t particularly have time for a random human to be haunting me. I’d just kill you and be done with it.” You tilted your head but didn’t respond. Nor did he look for one. “Or you could just be a simple cursed spirit, but then there’s the question of your cursed energy. It certainly isn’t similar to a cursed spirit. And considering none of the ones I capture come back up, I’d have to cross that possibility off my list.”

“You’re talking a lot more than last time.” You pointed out, watching him curiously. He was dangerously close. And you were all too ready, all too hungry for this.

“Or,”

He continued as if you hadn’t said anything. His eyes still searching, a neutral smile playing on his face.

“Ah yes, now I see. The curse could be attached to you. A cursed human. Now how did your filthy monkey hands get a hold of this curse—”

He was close enough by then. That was his first mistake.

You snatched his neck and slammed him down onto the steps of the altar in a matter of seconds, completely taking the man off guard.

Now you straddled his waist, gripping his neck with both your hands as you laughed with wide ghoul-like eyes. His larger hand gripped your wrist, trying to free himself from your otherwise ungodly strength, his own eyes widening slightly when a red glimmer shot out of your back, sharpening to a point where it was pointed directly at his forehead.

“Who the hell do you think you are, huh?! Some god? Could’ve fooled me! Hey, why don’t we have a rematch? Maybe this time it’ll be a fair fucking fight!”

In a blink, something heavy snatched you up and swallowed you whole.

Geto sat up, rubbing his now sore neck as his curse flung around the room and landed on the ceiling, swallowing you.

“Heh,” He grunted out as he got to his feet.

Maybe he was pissed. Maybe he was intrigued. Maybe a little bit of both. Fortunately, none of his followers were in the room. Imagine they saw you manhandling him with ease like that. What leader would that make him? How could he appear weak like that in front of them?

But that didn’t stop the growing grin tugging at his lips. This was a completely different person compared to the human he met at the store—if you were even human at all. You had been so nice, and sweet—your smile so genuine. And now? Maybe death changed you. Maybe you were a cursed human.

Maybe you’ve always been like this.

“You’re not going to make this any easier on me, are you?” He sighed as he stepped off the altar, glancing toward his curse who still stuck to the ceiling. Watching him patiently. “I was going to offer to kill you quickly and then take the curse, but I see now you don’t deserve my mercy. I could have saved you. Maybe you should’ve stayed dead—either way, I’m going to enjoy having your cursed spirit under my control. It’s useful. Powerful. Something you monkeys lack—”

His curse exploded. Bits of it’s skin falling. Blood spilled onto the floor.

And a blurred object flying toward him at an ungodly speed.

Geto barely dodged you as he jumped out of the way.

You left a large hole in the floor when you landed where the man had been standing. Now your kagune was out and gleaming, hungry, and simmering with rage just as your blood was.

The man landed a few feet away from you, black holes appearing at his side with more curses spilling out of them. You grinned at this and stood straighter at the altar.

You looking down on him. Just as he had done with his followers.

Geto tried not to react at that. Tried not to show how pissed he truly was.

But you noticed it of course.

It made your grin follow into a laugh as you sunk easily into your fighting stance.

“You done spittin’ that narcissistic shit, yet?” You called amusingly. “Or are you ready for that rematch now?”

“That’s enough out of you.” He now didn’t look so amused as his cursed spirits launched themselves at you at once. “That curse does not belong to you. I believe it’s time you hand it over to me now.”

You allowed the two cursed spirits to get as close as possible before dashing from the altar and ending up in front of the man with a sickening sweet smile.

“Make me.”

But he didn’t lean away, your noses practically touching. He matched your grin, white teeth glistening in the dimly lit room.

“Gladly.”

More curses came flying at you. Some large and others small. You dodged and killed the smaller ones. The larger ones were a lot more difficult to get through. Truthfully, you didn’t know much of your limit to your strength or speed since you spent most of your life trying to suppress it all, but it seemed you were able to keep up anyway, coupled with your skills in martial arts.

And it seemed he was using the curses to keep you distracted long enough until he could get up close himself. His arms wrapped around you from behind, restricting you as a flying curse was zooming toward you, its beak wide open and ready to take your head.

“Comfortable?” He whispered in your ear, his chuckle tickling the lobe. “Is this what you wanted when we first met in that store? To be this close?”

You grinned and leaned back into him just a bit, “Your such a tease.”

With that, you smashed the back of your head into his face, forcing him to let you go as you spun and kicked him hard enough that he flew.

Fortunately for him, one of his curses caught him and another smashed into you, throwing you across the room. You quickly tore through it with your kagune and leaped back up to your feet just as he came at you.

His combat style was fast and far more experienced than you were, but you managed to keep up. You managed to land in a few jabs of your own until one of his curses took you down again.

You threw it off and spat out a mixture of spit and blood, “Cheater.”

“Like you’ve been playing fair.” He scoffed, rubbing his jaw from the last blow you had given him.

“Try not throwing your stupid curses at me and fight me yourself.” You challenged, jumping to your feet. “I can’t be the only one making the first moves here.”

Just as you said that you tackled him into the damaged altar stairs, straddling his lap again, tugging his hair so he was looking up at you, “Comfortable?”

He was staring up at you again, this time with visible interest, “You’re not human, are you?”

You rolled your eyes and let his hair go but kept your legs straddled at his waist, “What gave that away?”

“Are you done with your little show now?” He asked with a lazy smirk now on his face.

There was movement in the corner of your eye and you glared, “I swear to go if another one of your stupid curses—”

Another one slammed into you and threw you into a wall. “Asshole!” You grunted, holding your shoulder as you dodged another attack from the curse, “Play fair!”

The cheeky bastard grinned, “Make me.”

Your kagune came out. It was like a tail, almost. An extra limp that was a part of your body but hidden. It swished around, cautiously waiting for your command. Waiting for your next target.

The both of you were bruised and bloodied, surrounded by curses, but neither ready to back down just yet. You wondered how long the two of you would keep at this. Which one of you would eventually give in? Which one of you would die? Is that his end goal here? To still kill you?

Well, with the way the curses and him surrounded you, the latter seemed more possible with each passing second.

That didn’t mean you were ready to give in. Not like last time. Not like that night in the temple. The two of you stared at each other with silent challenge. He was back on the altar as if expecting you to bow down. Like you were supposed to submit like his little followers. He hid it well back then.

Only this time, there was a subtle look across his face. One he didn’t bother to hide.

He was hesitating.

Now was your chance to—

The doors behind you swung open behind you and a call of your name screamed desperately as a smaller body crashed into your back.

Your first instinct was to attack, to direct your kagune at the newcomer. Only when you felt smaller arms wrap around your waist from behind, you faltered.

Now you were hesitating.

Another body came at you at the front, just as small as the other one.

Nanako looked up at you with wide teary eyes, “Don’t hurt him! Please! We don’t want you to get hurt!”

Through your shock, you were a little offended. If they took one look at him, they’d see that you were managing just fine. But you didn’t voice that out loud. Instead, you allowed your kagune to disappear.

“We thought you were dead.” Mimiko whimpered from behind you, her hold tightening. “When Nanako said she heard your voice, I didn’t believe her. But you’re here! And we don’t want you to go!”

“Please don’t leave us again.” Nanako buried her face into your stomach, her voice becoming muffled. Silent tears were falling down your cheeks as you knelt to their height. “Please, please, please, don’t leave.”

“Okay,” You whispered to her, allowing Mimiko to come around and hug you from the front as well. You wrapped your arms tightly around them, ignoring how most of the curses that had surrounded you had disappeared. Ignoring how easily you melted in front of your girls. Ignoring how much your heart had been missing a void up until now. Ignoring how he watched the three of you intensely from the altar. “Okay, okay, I won’t leave. I’m right here.”

Mimiko pressed her cheek against yours, “Promise?”

You chuckled shakily, realizing how much you were trembling as you held them. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Okay, well, we have to pinky promise on it,” Nanako said pulling back a bit as she wiped her tears on her hoodie sleeve. “We kept our promise. Now it’s your turn.”

Nanako held out her pinky which you took instantly. Mimiko lifted her head from your shoulder and joined her pinky with yours. You allowed them to fight over covering your much longer pinky with their little ones, earning small giggles from the girls.

Geto watched the interaction, silently.

The girls never approached anyone other than Geto himself. Not even the people he trusts the most, the girls weren’t as comfortable as they were with him.

He didn’t doubt the girls' adoration for him. Not one bit. They were his.

But perhaps he saw why they were also equally yours.

Mimiko and Nanako weren’t secretive about their relationship with you, even after they thought you had died—like he told them. They always spoke fondly of you, despite knowing you for only a short amount of time. Still, in that short time, they experienced the most kindness they had ever received.

He remembered you freeing them from the cage. He remembered your protective stance when he appeared to you at the temple. He remembered the distraught look on your face when the girls willingly went with him. It wasn’t betrayal. It was sadness mixed with the simmering rage that was directed at him.

You weren’t human.

That much was clear.

You weren’t entirely a curse spirit either.

Probably more human than curse.

Geto wasn’t too sure how to feel about that yet.

Not yet anyway.

The girls were now in front of him, staring up at him with big pleading eyes. They didn’t have to say it with words.

They wanted you back into their lives. Now that you were here and alive, they wanted you. Just as much as they wanted to be by Geto’s side.

Then there was the fact that he didn’t want to kill you anymore—which was oddly unsettling for him. Technically, you weren’t human. But there was still so much to uncover about you.

And your power was useful. He couldn’t kill something like that.

He was smiling at you again. That passive one. The one that was meant as a warning as he approached you with the girls following in tow behind him.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally introduced ourselves.” You raised a brow as he leaned forward, your faces now inches apart. “You can call me Geto-sama.”

You didn’t utter your name, but he said yours with ease. Falling off his tongue in his deep and smooth voice.

“The girls told me so much about you.”

“Geto, huh?” You mumbled when the last curse sunk away.

“My followers refer to me as Geto-sama, yes.” He nodded, the smile remaining on his face.

It was annoying.

You sent him a grin, “I’m not one of your followers. Geto.”

Ever so slightly, you could see the subtle twitch in his brow. And at that, your grin grew.

Mimiko was the one to speak next, “Can we keep her?”

#jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou imagine #jjk imagine #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto suguru imagine #[ *take a bow ]

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spacecowboyhotch · 2 months

Text

The Dead Horse

summary: santi brings you back to reality.

pairing: fem!black!reader x santi garcia

contents: angst & fluff— happy ending, canon typical violence, blood, gore, ptsd, depression, feelings of hopelessness, friends to lovers, kissing

wc: 2,419

an: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now bc of nerves, but always wanted to write Santi with a black love interest. planning to dip my toe into that pool more in the future 🥰

oscar issac characters masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here like this. It could be minutes, hours, even days. In these four walls beneath the shower’s spray, there is nothing that matters. Not even you, not anymore. And while you’re usually the first to be cheery, to tell each of the guys that the work they do— the work you all do together— doesn’t compromise the goodness you see in their hearts, you’re having a hard time believing that right now.

Not with what you’d done. It was to survive, and while you’ve come to terms with how scary you could be in the past you thought it stayed there.

In the past.

Tonight had proven to you that you could always access that piece of you. That terrifying piece that was a killing machine. The emphasis doesn’t lie in efficiency, but in ruthlessness. You had shown no mercy, the switch for empathy and compassion turned off as soon as your hindbrain decided that it was fight or flight. Dormantly thirsty, lurking in the shadows waiting for its time, it chose to fight. But you had gone a step too far—like always— because of your lack of control.

You were messy, enjoying the cutting of thick flesh, the warmth of the blood as it sprayed you. The copper smell, so familiar and embarrassingly comforting, though you didn’t have the mind to think that now, not when you were exposing the pink underbelly of a corpse.

Santi’s been pacing the hallway since you all made it back to the safe house. He’d tried to chat you up on the way home with no success. You wouldn’t meet his eye, and when he drew nearer to catch your gaze it was empty. It chilled his blood. He wasn’t sure of what exactly happened in that room you’d gotten ambushed in but he’d seen the aftermath. Recalling the image of standing over one too many dead bodies, a gleam in your eye had made his stomach curl. He’d smoothed his hand over your knee and left it at that, trying his best to banish all the red and pink and white.

It’s been an hour since you’d stumbled into the bathroom. He can hear the shower still going when he puts his ear to the door and sighs, a mix of frustrated and concerned. He’s not sure what to do– he’s never had to take care of you before. He’s always been grateful for that given all the fondness he has for you bubbling just beneath. Any acknowledgement could jeopardize too much– missions, the dynamic of the team, and most importantly your friendship.

“You alright in there?” He calls softly through the door.

He’s met with silence. He rolls his neck, cursing beneath his breath as his mind goes back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

“Just go in there and check on her,” Frankie says from behind him, causing the other man to flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Santi assures Frankie, leaning against the wall to face the man. He nods at the door. “She could be naked.”

Frankie snorts, shrugging. “She’s seen all of us at least half naked and well, Benny—“

Santi quickly cuts him off, trying to keep the sour jealousy out of his voice. He knows that there’s nothing going on between you and Benny, that Benny is as much of a flirt as he is but sillier and less concerned with his image. “But we haven’t seen her. I don’t— I’m a dog but I’m a respectful one.”

“If she’s gonna get help from anybody on this it’d be you. She trusts you man.”

Santi looks at him like he’s grown two heads but feels a little warm, “She trusts all of us, kind of a prerequisite of living and working with a group of men.”

“It's different with you. You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around.”

Santi almost lets himself think about it. Almost lets himself dream a little. Almost.

“Or see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Like a lost fucking puppy,” Benny pipes in, breezing down through the hallway between the two of them.

“Don’t sound so concerned, Benjamin,” Santi calls after the man, mouth quirking into a grin.

“Don’t look so smug, Santiago,” Frankie teases.

“I’m not smug,” He denies. He decides to go in, okay with being kicked out by you if it means that Frankie will be gone, done poking and prodding at what the man must know is his heart.

“Good luck.”

Santi murmurs a quiet thanks before slowly entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stands, frozen in place for several moments as he digests the sight of you. It's heartbreaking. His chest goes tight, and he curses softly again. What could he do for you? He’d do anything, but he’s just not sure what. He feels helpless seeing you like this. He could burn this entire city, burn anyone who would look at you wrong. Hell, he’d burn the entire world if it meant some warmth would come back into your eyes.

You’re curled up, your arms resting atop your knees, head resting to stare forward. Your curly hair that usually frames your face is completely soaked like the rest of you, flat and sticking to your face in various places. He knows that your eyes are unseeing, that you’re so incredibly removed from yourself because you make no indication that he’s stepped into the room.

“I’m gonna come sit beside you, okay? That’s it. No words,” Despite his words he stays where he is for a handful of seconds, hoping to get some sort of answer from you. You don’t speak a word, don’t utter or sound or so much as look in his direction. But you do shift slowly, making more room for him underneath the water.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” He grits out, drawing close enough to you that your shoulders rest flush against each other.

He gazes over at you, noticing the way the water glimmers on your brown skin. The way its collected on your dark eyelashes. If these were different circumstances maybe for just a handful of seconds he’d let himself get lost in your beauty. But then you acknowledge him– sort of. You hum softly and the leaning of your head on his shoulder. It's a good sign and he relaxes beside you.

“Do you want me to shut it off?” He asks gently, reaching out to take your hands into his. Your fingers are cold as ice, and he rubs at them in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

“No, please. No,” You beg hoarsely, suddenly springing to life. You grip at his hands desperately, eyes wide with panic as you finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, hush, cariño, I’ve got you. C’mere, baby,” He shushes you, pulling you into his arms and flush against him.

At little more present in the moment, you feel the chill registering. You curl up, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. There’s still some warmth in his skin and you press into it, letting the sound of his steady breath lull you back into a dissociative state.

Santi holds you for an undetermined amount of time. He runs his hands up your back, over the crown of your hair, feeling the difference of how your curls feel when wet. His hand drifts to your chin, and he leans away, tipping your head up.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me,” He whispers.

Your dark eyes have a little more life to them, but that’s only amplified the sadness they hold. “Santi, I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me, please.”

“I have to, you can’t stay like this. We’ve got to get it out in the open.”

“Like you do?” You challenge– your voice distinctly unkind, harder than he’s ever heard it before. His brow furrows and guilt blossoms inside of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. This just fucking sucks, Santiago. Its all wrong again.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

“There’s no way we can fix it. I’m just broken. I’ll always be haunted by her. She’ll always be here, waiting for an opportunity for that.”

“You preach that shit to me and the guys. Day in and day out. Every mission, and you don’t believe it?”

“I do— I did. I believe it for you. For them. You’re good people, Santi. Good men, all of you. You take care of me.”

“You take care of us, honey. Fish hangs on your every word. Will too. Benny is well— Benjamin.”

“And you?”

He shrugs, “You know I gave into this a long time ago. Before we even met. No other way for me to be.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I try to. I want to. There are parts of me too that I don’t like. I want them gone. I rip them up and bury them but they always come back to haunt me. I don’t think that means I’m not trying to be better, but it means I’ll never be the man I want to be.”

You frown at him, concerned, “Santi—“

“It’s okay. I accepted that after the first tour. Sometimes you gotta let the horse be dead.”

“Do you think my horse is dead?”

There’s no room for his ego, no room for hiding when he hears the blatant fear in your question.

He rests his head back against the wall, murmuring, “I think you’re the sweetest thing this earth has to offer.”

“You think so?”

“Bouncing around with your curls, and your sweet little smile. Kicking Benny’s ass with grace while you’ve got a cake in the oven. You should see yourself with Frankie’s little girl.”

“Seems like you watch me a lot,” You suggest softly.

“I watch you all the time,” He admits, but there’s no shame in his voice. In fact you can see resolve in his eyes, and possessiveness. A chill runs down your spine and it’s not from the water. Santi mistakes it for that anyway. “Let me turn this off for us?”

He’s still asking. Still checking in with you though there’s much more light in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Santi leans up and turns off the shower, letting out a sigh of relief. He runs his hands over your wet curls, pushing them away from your forehead. His thumbs swipe your cold cheeks, brushing away some of the water droplets.

Without that steady sound of the shower, sheets cascading down on you, you both are feeling a little more exposed.

“I came in here to make sure you were alright, not spill my fucking guts. I just had to take care of you,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You can always take it back,” You say teasingly, though most of you expect him to bite at your offer.

He’s said much more in these last few minutes than he ever has to you— Santi’s a sweet guy under all his charm, but he never lets you see below the surface. Not until now, when letting you in seemed like the only way to get you out.

It takes more effort than he expects to pull himself away from you. He leans back against the shower wall, nimble fingers lacing together in his lap. “And lose you?”

“You could never lose me, Santi,” You murmur, reaching out to grab one of his hands.

Your eyes roam him, a little in disbelief at what’s happening right now. But yes, it is Santiago Garcia sitting next to you. With his dark brown eyes, his sharp jaw dappled with stubble, his salt and pepper hair looking much darker and curlier than usual due to the water.

“Yeah?” Santi asks, eyes glued to where yours sits atop his. He traces slowly over the sight of you two linked together, admiring how soft and rich your skin looks even after sitting in a shower for so long.

He’s a goner isn’t he?

“Yeah.”

There are butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies, sweat slicking his palms despite the fact that he’s soaked through his clothes and down to the bone. He realizes in this moment that he’s not just a goner. No— he loves you. He knew that he was harboring some kind of feelings for you, but when your eyes meet his— earnest and tender— he can only think one thing: I love you.

His eyes hungrily drop to your full mouth, and another shiver runs down your spine. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, squeezing his hand that’s still in yours.

“I need to hear you say it. You have to say it for me, so I can believe it.”

“I want you to kiss me, Santiago. Please.”

He’s on you then. All over you. His hands move quickly, guiding you back into his lap before one loops around your torso and holds you close. The other cups your jaw, angling it back so that he can press his mouth to yours. You’re breathless before the space between you is closed, chest heaving at how sure and firm his hands are. He kisses you. Kisses and kisses you, like his life depends on it. Like you’re lost and the only thing that will guide you home is his insistent tongue.

Your hands slip and slide against the fabric of his wet shirt before you give up, raising them to tentatively cup his face so that you can have leverage.

“That’s it honey, kiss me back. Take what you want to. Whatever you need,” He encourages between kisses.

Take you do. You squirm in his lap until he lets you shift and straddle him. It had started with him leading you, consuming you but now it’s your turn to surround him. Santi gives in, sighing into your mouth as your tongue goes on the hunt for his. You kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him until your mouth aches. When you pull away his is flushed pink, newly wet. You run your thumb over his lips before wiping your own mouth.

He looks up at you like hang the moon. His eyes are soft and hazy, pink mouth pulling up into a smirk. There’s the Santi you know. The Santi you love. But even now, he’s softer and sweeter, gathering you close again.

“What do you need now, sweetheart? What can I do to make it better?”

“You.”

“I’m yours.”

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

#santi garcia x reader #santi garcia x black!reader #santi garcia x fem!black!reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x black!reader #santiago garcia x fem!black!reader #santi garcia #black!reader #santi garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #arson writes

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honeybeefae · 10 months

Note

oooo forbidden love with eris or azriel? maybe even a triangle 👀

Out of the Woods (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

BINGO: FORBIDDEN LOVE

(I ended up going with Eris bc this idea literally is so much fun plus I’ve got so many Azriel requests! This request didn’t specify if it was NSFW or SFW so I just went for SFW! This literally came to life as I was writing it and I want to continue it SO bad so pls let me know if you guys would be interested lmao)

WARNINGS: Fighting, talks of death, a little gore in terms of blood

You had been coming to these woods ever since you had first seen him chasing after your assailants. What he was doing in the mortal realm you didn’t know nor care but you were grateful he was there that day. He had seen them drag you into the woods, ready to do unspeakable things, until each one of them suddenly burst into flames redder than you had ever seen.

One by one they dropped dead and you stood there, terrified, as the red hair fae emerged from the shadows. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and while you should have run or screamed or even fought, you just gazed at him.

He stopped a few feet away from you, his amber eyes focused on your breathing as you opened your mouth and whispered, “Thank you.”

It was the last thing he had expected you to say and it took him a minute to recover, a small smile turning his lips despite the image he was trying to portray. You drew in a sharp breath when he stepped into your personal space, bending down until he was at eye level.

“Run.”

The single word made your heart jump and instinct took over, breaking you from the spell as you turned on your heel and ran back to your village. You kept glancing over your shoulder, making sure he wasn’t following and didn’t stop until you were in your bedroom with the door closed. It felt like your heart was about to burst from your chest as you scurried under the covers like a child.

As the adrenaline wore off and the night grew darker you started to drift off to sleep despite yourself, your eyes slowly closing until you dreamed about the man in the forest. You could’ve sworn you felt something touch your cheek that night, the smell of embers and pine wrapping around you like a blanket.

—--------------------

You didn’t go into the forest for several days, feigning sickness or pain whenever your father would ask you to go forage before the winter. The excuses worked for a while until he put his foot down, yelling at you that you needed to go out or risk starvation.

This time you wore a cloak and had a dagger sheathed in your belt, the empty basket swaying from side to side as you went to the small berry patch close to the thickets and river. You felt tense the entire time, constantly looking over your shoulder, and just as you felt you could relax as you stood you felt eyes on you.

He was staring at you from the other side of the river, taking in your shocked expression before vanishing into thin air. You didn’t stick around to see where he went, turning to run back home only to smack into something solid.

Not something…someone.

“What are you doing in the forest again by yourself?” The man asked, his voice low as he captured your wrist in his hand when you tried to run. “I thought I told you to run.”

Your mouth was dry as you opened and closed it, your pulse fluttering under his fingertips as you struggled briefly to break away. His touch was warm, warmer than the average human, and it made your skin tingle in a weird way.

“Answer me, human.” He sneered, lacking the patience that a man his age probably should have. You knew the fae were practically immortal and given how he looked a few years older than you, he had to have been around for a while.

“I-I had to come to get food for my family.” You stutter, clearing your throat from how hoarse it sounded. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking those questions.” He responded while glancing at your wrist in his hand. “This forest is too dangerous for someone like you to be in. There are wolves and foxes and evil men waiting to snatch you up.”

“Lucky you killed one of those three for me then, isn’t it?” You said boldly, your eyes widening when you realized you hadn’t filtered that thought from coming out of your mouth. Immediately your cheeks heated and you looked away, pulling once more.

He let you go, smirking when you stumbled back and fell on your ass. You scurried back a few paces when he crouched down to watch you more closely.

“Don’t come into these woods again, do you understand? It is not safe and I’m not going to go out of my way to save you.” He stated, offering his hand for you to take. You glanced at it and then his face, your eyes narrowing in suspicion before he grew tired of your antics and pulled you up himself.

He looked you over one more time, catching the dagger on your hips as it caught the afternoon sun. “And make sure you know how to use that or you might as well beat someone off with a stick.”

As he turned to go back from wherever he came from you found yourself calling for him, voice tight as you asked, “What is your name?”

The fae man stopped but didn’t turn around, debating on what he should say before he turned his head to the left slightly. You could make out his profile, the bridge of his nose, and his pointed ear as he said, “Eris.”

You watched as he disappeared once again, your heart thrumming as you stood there for a moment digesting what had just happened. Eris. His name was Eris. The name sounded weird in your head and yet it was all you could think about on your walk home, testing it on your tongue until you arrived at your doorstep.

Night quickly fell as you washed the fruit and finished your daily chores, bidding your family goodnight and making your way back to your bed. The smell from your dreams was still present, especially by your bed, and you fell asleep once more to the face of the fae, of Eris.

Only this time you dreamt of him in a forest of red and yellow.

—--------------------------

The next time you went into the woods was when your village was under attack by the soldiers of Hybern. They were ransacking every home, every family, and taking whatever they wanted. You had heard the screams of women, men, and children as great fires suddenly lit up the sky.

Your family was trying to gather their most precious belongings but by the time they were ready to run it was too late. Three large men burst inside, their entire aura reeking of evil as they took in your small abode. Without warning you saw your father grab his sword off the wall and hurl it at the tallest soldier blocking the door, watching as it sank into his arm.

He let out a roar of rage and your father screamed at you all to run, his stance brave. You and your mother and brother took the opportunity and sprinted out into the street, feeling the other soldiers hot on your heels. You decided to turn the opposite way and head towards the forest, your head screaming at you as both men followed you.

You were breathing hard as you tried your best to see in the dark, crying out as branches and thorns scraped across your skin. Blood was running down your arms by the time you got to the river and when you turned to look behind you, you realized they were no longer there.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

Seconds were passing by agonizingly slow as you waited with bated breath, sweat making your skin sticky as your head whipped around furiously for any sign of them. A twig snapped behind you and you didn’t have time to brace yourself as a heavy body slammed into you, knocking you onto the forest floor and stealing the very breath from your lungs.

“Stupid bitch thinks she can outrun us.” The soldier laughed, pinning your arms above your head as he glared at you with hatred. “Let’s see how far you can run when I’ve got my c-”

Before he can finish the sentence a ring of fire wraps around his throat and squeezes until his head is severed from his body. Warm blood covers your nightgown as you stare in terror, your vocal cords unable to move as the other Hybern soldier meets the same fate.

Soft footsteps head in your direction and you close your eyes tightly, not wanting to see whoever was going to kill you until you felt the familiar tingle of Eris’s hands wrapping around your body. He lifts you into his arms without a word and looks around, making sure no one is left before vanishing with you held tightly against him.

You felt like you were falling as he appeared in front of a cabin, a small candle lit in the window as he walked through the front door and shut it behind him. He wordlessly walked over to the bathroom and turned on the tap, setting you gingerly on the floor.

He tested the water with his rest and when satisfied, poured some soap into it until bubbles started to appear. You had your knees drawn up to your chest, watching him while he strode over to you and picked you up again. Eris made easy work of your nightgown, ripping it down the middle with just a few fingers and putting you into the water.

Both of your hands came up to cover your chest as he submerged you in warmth, looking at your nightgown with disgust before burning it in his grasp. You blinked rapidly, watching the ash fall to the floor, before turning your eyes to his.

“You came for me.” You whispered hoarsely. “You killed those men…for me.”

“I told you to stay out of the forest.” He snapped, a deep frown settled on his face. “I told you the dangers but you didn’t listen, you refused to listen. Do you know what could have happened to you if I wasn’t there?”

You did know. You wouldn’t be here with a strange fae man named Eris. You wouldn’t be in a warm bath in a grand cabin. You would probably be dead, along with the rest of your family and your village.

The thought of your family had tears falling down your cheeks and into the bath, tiny ripples disturbing the water under the bubbles. You hoped they had escaped, found somewhere to hide, and your father…

A soft sob had your shoulders shaking as you turned your back to Eris, bringing your knees in once more and resting your face between them. Everything you knew, everyone you knew, it was all up in flames. Literally.

Minutes passed by without a word spoken and you had thought he had left you alone until you heard him shuffle behind you and sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s not what you need right now. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why do you care so much?” You mumbled, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You barely know me. You’re a fae, I’m a human. What game are you playing here?”

“I’m not playing a game.” Eris defended, watching as you angle your head to look at him. “I swear.”

“Then why save me? Why bring me here? I thought you hated our kind.” You were misdirecting your anger at the man who saved your life but you couldn’t help it, you wanted something to make sense in your life. “Am I a servant to you? Are you going to keep me trapped here for the rest of my life?”

“If I wanted a servant I could have easily found anyone so watch your tone.” Eris suddenly stood, his eyes hot with anger. “Is this how you are thanking me for saving your life? By questioning my decisions? Would you rather I take you back to those terrible men, to that terrible life?”

“I just want an answer!” You scream back, standing up and staring him down. You didn’t care that you were naked, you didn’t care that this man could kill you with a snap of his fingers. He owed you a damn explanation. “Just tell me why!”

Eris’s jaw twitched while his nostrils flared, his fists curling at his side briefly before relaxing. He took a deep breath and turned around and grabbed a towel, tossing it in your direction.

“I don’t have to explain myself to a human.” He said, pausing in the doorframe. “Dry off, get dressed, and come out here when you’re done.”

He shut the door before you could respond but you still let out a scream of frustration, stomping your foot like a child as you gripped the towel firmly. You stared at where he had just been, willing him to come back, before letting your shoulders sag in defeat.

Whatever he was going to do, whatever compelled him to save you, you obviously weren’t going to find out tonight. This communication between the two of you shouldn’t have even started in the first place, it was forbidden and yet here you were.

Stuck in a cabin with Eris…your new home for the time being.

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little-reader · 2 months

Text

"The Son of A Monster." Ch. 8

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. Implied rape.

I sat in a room I was quite familiar with. This time, it had an extra bed, with blankets lying at the end. It was moved into the house after I was checked. I lay in this bed for hours. My back was facing the room as I stared at the wall. Plain blue wallpaper with a few cracks. There wasn’t much to do. I felt like a misbehaving child, sent to his room without supper. I was tired, and I hadn’t seen anyone since I came into this room.

There wasn't much to say. What could I say? I sighed, staring at my fingers as I fiddled with them. The talking downstairs could be heard as it echoed through the hallways outside the door. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I could guess. I feel as though I will not be leaving this house or room for a while. A long while. I guess it wasn't too bad. A bed, food, a shower... and alone with my thoughts. It wasn't all that bad, it was quiet and calm, just what they wanted.

I could hear footsteps coming upstairs and walking down the hall as I closed my eyes. The door handle was turned and pushed in. Soft feet camp in and close the door. I could hear the creak of the other bed and a light flip on, a lamp beside his bed, and pages flip. His beloved comics. That's what he was reading. It wasn’t usual, he'd stay up for hours either rereading comics or action books. Sometimes, he would draw with a Sharpie, making his figures.

I thought that was cute. He is making his figures. When he left the room, I would skim through his stack of papers, looking at the small pictures he drew.

I sigh silently, slowly moving my head to look at the other bed. He was doing exactly that. Reading a book this time in his bed. His hat was hung on the top of the lamp and flannel was thrown at the bottom of the bed. His shoes were left at the door, showing how he lazily took them off.

“You up?” He asked, making me realize he was looking at me. I hummed, and looked at the wall, playing with my fingers. Why did they put me in this room? As a joke, or had he asked? Or was he now supposed to watch over me like I did with him? Doesn't matter really. I'm stuck. He left me behind. For all he knows, I could be dead… I rub my eyes, yawning. “Dad said you're allowed out of the house if someone's watching over you.” He states as I give him another small hum. I was sure this annoyed him, by his small sigh and the sound of shuffling behind me. His light moved and pointed at me. I could see his shadow moving around on the wall as I had my head shoved into the pillow. My fingers played with the fabric of the pillowcase, pulling on the old rattan tag that was attached to it.

I felt a dip in my bed as Carl sat behind me, getting comfortable. I wasn’t sure what his motive was, but I didn’t appreciate it as I moved closer to the wall. I pushed my body forward and rolled onto my stomach, the blanket slipping off me because of the movement and Carl sitting on it. I grunted.

It was a while before he read. I could hear the book pages flip, and see his shadow moving as I stared at it. My heart beat a little faster. Something hit me rather quickly. I kissed him. In front of his family. His whole family. Shit. Though, he acted like it didn’t happen. I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, rejection or throwing it away. Another mistake, another damn mistake. It pissed me off to think he put off the kiss. But that was selfish. I was selfish. Now I’m here, with Carl reading on my bed, in a room I’m stuck in, in a town I have been in for months. I was always stuck here. This time, it would be harder to leave, to sneak out.

I sighed and turned on my back, now staring at the ceiling. Carl looked over from his book at the sudden movement. I stared at him, before letting my arm smack into his book down and sighing again. He rolled his eyes.

“I'm… sorry,” I said, barely over a whisper, as I left my armrest on his lap and stared at my fingers again. I raised an eyebrow. His head tilted slightly. “I… I’m sorry, for everything.” I whispered, only glancing at him for a second. Lifted myself into a sitting position, letting out a breath as I did. “I didn’t know why I was going home. I didn’t know he was gonna kill your people, hell I did too.” I paused, picking at my nails. “And I’m sorry for doin’ that in front of your family. It was selfish,” I stated, not daring to look at the young boy. I was honestly scared to look at him. What emotion would lie in his expression? Disgust?

I jolted slightly as he placed his hand on mine. I didn’t move them for a moment before I started to wrap my fingers intertwined with his. I sighed softly. “I don’t know what to feel. It's new for me.” Carl said, in the same calm voice, as he stared at our hands. “I…” He pauses like he’s trying to think about what to say. “I like you… and the time I spent with you, it wasn’t just me keeping you away… I’m sorry about that too. I enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I love going out of the walls almost every week, watching you tell stories in that old house. I love going to that lake, going in and sitting in the field to dry off and stare at the clouds. I love when you give me your comic collection or teach me how to make pasta… I feel myself around you.” He stated, playing with my fingers. “Everyone warned me you’d hurt me… and all you’ve done is the opposite. I can’t count how many times you’ve saved my ass out there, in here… you make this world… better.” He grips my hand, now staring at me. I stare back. I want him. Crave the boy near me. I lifted my hand and rubbed his cheek, pushing his hair out of his face, and looking at his face. His bandage covered the side of it, and his face looked like he was confused, but strong in his emotions.

“I… you know… 'm two years older than you... Bigger than you.” I started like I was trying to deny, reject, or back out. He broke eye contact and nodded, “Hey…” I paused, dipping my head down to catch his gaze. “Just… no funny business,” I whispered, and he chuckled slightly, then left it to a small smile. I rubbed his chin with my fingers. I felt his hand squeeze mine as my eyes flickered to his lips.

I smiled and kissed his cheek softly, pulling his chin to kiss the other. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, and the tip of his nose before I paused. I felt content at the moment. I looked down, my eyes locking with his, as I rubbed his chin with my thumb softly, and softly pressed my lips to his mouth, letting myself sink into the other boy. I let my hands wrap around his hair, bringing him closer.

I had my body draped across his, our legs wrapped together. I had just noticed how much bigger I was than him, but he was younger, so that might change shortly. I had my arms wrapped around his torso, and my head propped against his shoulder as he read. The blanket went to my shoulder. I closed my eyes, letting myself soak in his body heat as I drifted to other places. My mind kept on him as I fell asleep.

Dusty fields overlapped my body, the ingrown wheat or the yellow fields surrounded me as I lay in them. I opened my eyes, slowly looking around, I saw clouds looking down upon me as I was suddenly lifted into a standing position without moving a muscle. I blinked, turning my torso, but unable to move my feet forward. I could see a hand peeking out from the crops as I squinted. I felt my hands clench. The hand from the crops reached out towards me, inviting me in. The ring on the finger was oddly familiar, the hand pale and purple, with long nails and a pearl bracelet. Soft and dead. I reached out for it, trying to speak, I knew the hand quite well, or so I had not seen this hand in a while. I tried to screech out. But hands from the fields behind me started to grab me and pull me into them. I leaned my upper body over, trying to grab the hand, I wanted to yell out, but nothing came out, just the sound of the wind. The other side of the field was lit on fire, engulfing the hand as I was pulled in. One gloved hand, a smaller hand with dirt in its fingernails, two children's hands, and a dead hand with long nails and a black sleeve.

My eyes opened wide, feeling the sweat pool on my back as I lay there and felt my lungs heave quickly. I swallowed, my throat dry as I moved myself away from the sleeping boy. He shifted in his sleep, turning his back to me as I climbed over his legs. My feet touch the ground, feeling the floor beneath them. Something felt off about this room, it wasn’t set perfectly. I mean, everything was in its place, the book Carl was reading, same color, same light, same bead, sheets and blankets… Something was different. I felt wrong as I stood in the middle of the room. It started to cave, the room was getting smaller, and the walls started to turn into shapes as I started to lose my balance. The humming was heard behind me, in different tones, pulling me towards the voice. Blackness. Sweat and a thud.

“He just got out and passed out,” Carl said, looking at the two for help. “He won’t wake up and he’s not responding.”

Yelling was heard down the hall as Rick and Michonne got out of bed quickly, and raced down the hall with weapons in hand. The door slammed open, and the two looked around, expecting to see a different scene. Carl looked panicked on his knees, looking at my sweating, pass-out body as he held my head in his lap.

“Michonne,” Rick said, putting his gun down. She nodded and left the room. Rick made a quick effort to check my pulse. “He’s not doing so hot,” Rick said, feeling the heat radiate off of my body. He lifted my shirt up and slowly peeled off the bandage. “Jesus.” He said, covering his nose and pushing it back.

That made Carl panic more. “What? What is it?” He said, going to pull the bandage but Rick moved his hand back. The smell circled the room. “Dad.” He said, covering his nose. “What's wrong?” He questioned.

Rick shook his head, looking at his son before pulling the bandage and turning on the bedside light. “That smell… that is the infection,” Rick said, looking at the deep wound. There was goo covering the bandage and wound. Carl's eyes widened.

Carl watched from his bed as Aaron, Toby, Daryl, and Carol came in with a carrier. Carol looked over the wound, whispering where Rick could not hear. Michonne had a medical box with her as they lifted my body on a board. Carol took off the old bandage and wiped down the wound with an alcohol wipe. They slowly carried me out of the room to take care of me somewhere else.

Carl was left awake, in his room alone. His thoughts left him in worry.

“Who checked him yesterday?” Rick asked, outside the medical building. Daryl shrugged. “That boy looks like death, his skin is rotting and nobody noticed?” He asked, looking at the group.

“Must have happened when he was taken off the IV,” Michonne stated, looking at the door. “But you're right, he shouldn’t have been brought out.” Rick sighed, hands on his hips.

Fire. I burned through my veins. I was replaying the day over and over. The woods lit. Screaming and blood. Replay after replay.

A hand ruffled my hair as I pushed it off. My small hands patched up a jacket with a needle. “Me and some boys are going to go hunt for rabbit,” Negans said, looking down at me with a sight smirk. I smile back at him. “You be good and stay out of Bert's way, don’t think he likes us after the fight.” He whispered the last part and I nodded.

He had his bat and a bow. The others laughed and waved him over, he called to them and once again, ruffled my hair before leaving. There weren’t many people here, in the tiny civilization we called home. There were tents, big and small, for different families or groups. Groups of watchers are on the sides of the camp, keeping the people inside safe.

I was in a group of girls, and my small body was not able to help the other boys, or at least that is what the others said, and my dad agreed with them. So I stayed with the other girls, helping out with washing, sewing, cleaning, and butchering. It wasn’t just because I was small. I played many sports and built up strength from them, but I was younger and smaller than the rest of the boys, even some girls my age. But I hadn’t minded, that meant I could stay away from one side of the camp. Bert ran half of the camp, and Harriot ran the other. They were connected, chores scattered in many places of the camp but both of them knew how to do two different things. Harriot was a kind woman, who showed me kindness and softness when meeting our small group at first. Then there was Bert, who hadn’t wanted us here in the first place. He fought my dad quite a lot. I’ve sometimes seen my dad grip his bat, looking at it in our shared tent when he thought I was asleep. Bert is an ass, to say the least. Someone you shouldn’t be near. But he wasn’t stupid. He kept his eyes trained on me most of the time. Sometimes I would make eye contact with him to see him glaring at me from afar. But he’d only mess with me when my dad was gone, or when Laura was not watching over me.

I sat quietly, finishing up with the patched pants, that I was quite proud of, when I heard feet trail behind me. I look over my shoulder, folding the pants in my lap. Bert and a few boys, who looked like they wanted to kill me, stood with me with a grin plastered on his face.

“Boy.” He said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s time you do some real work, not sitting around like a little lady.” This made the boys laugh at me, I felt like a turtle that started to tuck into its shell. I glance at the pants and back at him.

“But… my dad said-” He interrupted me with a huff. “- blah, blah, blah.” He said, waving his hand. “I’m sure you’d be fine. You need to be a man, boy.” He said, grasping my arm and pulling me up. “Need to help or I’ll tie you in a tree, let the bitters get ya.” I gulped, nodded along with him as I stood, and placed the pants on the log where I sat.

I was pulled along with the other group of boys, clearly smaller and younger than them. I let myself glance as we passed out of the camp ridge over at Bert’s side, near the butcher tent and fire. The dawn just started to settle. We stopped by the fire, where logs sat near a tree. “Now, c’mon boys.,” He said, clapping as they started moving logs. I looked around, confused without directions. Bert looked at me like I was stupid. “Dammit, boy. Move em’!” He yelled, pointing to the tent. I rapidly nodded and started to move the logs slowly. I had two in each arm, they were heavy but nothing I couldn’t manage.

I felt the playful shove of my shoulder from one of the boys as he grinned and passed me quickly. I blush as I sit down the logs in the pile made. Older boy, by three years. 17, he was. I saw him around a lot, sometimes he would come and talk to me, ask me about how I used to live, or if I’d be joining him in some of the other's chores. Brunette with green eyes and a sweet apple-picked smile. His teeth were almost perfect, one back with a slight outward angle. He towered over me most times, but talked sweetly, sometimes pulling me to his chest when no one was around. Husten, or hue for short, was his name. He called me Pinky or Doll, he said it was because I always worked with the girls and I was smaller than him.

He’d brush my hair with his hands, playing with it, but listen to my ramble on about something stupid. He’d play with his foot under tables during supper, or bump my knee with his. He said his love language was physical contact. I remember, once I had a nightmare and wandered out at night where he was finishing up putting wood in the fire. He brought me back to his tent, where his father was out on watch. He had my head to his chest, rubbing my scalp and humming an old melody my mother used to sing. He rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

We always got along. It made me feel bubbly inside. However, I ignored this fact and went on with my chores. It started to get dark, and now the fire and a few lights lit up the trees as the boys finished up. I plucked up the last bit of logs as I stared at Hue, he was talking to some of the others. This caused me to trip over my feet and land in the mud.

I heard laughter and a huge huff behind me as I lifted myself. The wood under me left my hands scraped and rugged. I hissed and looked at them as I was pulled up by my shirt collar. “Boy, you have annoyed me for the last goddamn time.” He said, gripping the sides of my arms. He then looked behind me and smiled. “Go get the rest, out past the orange line.” He said, pointing over to a spot that had been spray-painted. Danger at night. That is what it meant. The watchers could not see in specific spots at night and marked them not to go near at night and not to stray away from camp. You were only allowed over there if it was early morning and the watchers already checked the area.

“Bert, it's not safe-” Hue tried to reason with the men, glancing at me. Bert interrupted him, shoving me back. “He has to be a man someday,” Bert stated, crossing his arms. “Now, go on boy, go get it.”

I gulped and looked over to the darkness that clouded the trees. I gulped and looked back at him, other boys were smiling, grinning at my frozen state. It’s like they were waiting for my downfall. I breathed in, and out.

Carl stared at the body on the bed as monitors were giving the occasional beep. It had been a couple of days since the night. He sat close, sometimes going out of the walls for supplies or with his dad. Iris was also here a lot. She traveled back from Alexandria, conversating with Carl. Though, she said multiple times she wasn’t feeling it, standing around, waiting for the monitors to lead the beep on. Carl played with his hands, he’d open the blinds and let the sun pour into the room. His heart ran at times, wondering as he would space out for half hours and wonder. He left a stack of his comics on the bedside table to read when bored, but he never really had the thought to.

(Two days ago)

Carol came out of the medical building and cleaned her hands. “The boy is fine. We needed to open the cut again. He stopped the bleeding, but the wound was still internal. We stitched him back up..” She paused, sighing as she looked at the group. “Kid knows what he’s doing, that was only meant to stop the bleeding until he could get attention. I’m honestly surprised he’s not dead… and Not to accuse anyone, but they should have known this was going to happen.”

Rick, hands on hips and in thought, nodded. He rubbed his chin. “I… he’s only two years older than Carl, He saved Carl. That kid is different from his father and people need to see that.”

Rick was out in a few hours, looking for supply with Carl. They stopped at a gas station not too far along. Rick had a plan going along by now, Carl helped for the past two weeks, watching the plan form, and also understanding others were at war.

“I’m glad he’s slept through most of this.” Said Rick, looking at Carl. Carl looked up at the sudden talk with a confused gaze. “He’s his father's son… but he’s got some different traits. Good traits.” He said, tilting his head as he looked at Carl. Carl only nodded. “Listen… He’ll be fine, He’ll be awake before you know it. The boy needs his rest." Silence bore into the conversation as Carl kicked a rock around.

"How?" Carl’s eyebrows furrowed, refusing to look back up at his father's eyes. “How bad was it?” He whispered, looking at Rick's feet. Rick shook his head.

“Not the worst, but not the best. He could have died, honestly…” Rick heard Carl’s breath hitch. “Carol said he should be fine, it might take a while to fully recover.”

I felt the slight wind knock against my skin, allowing me to shiver. The leaves crunched under my nervous foot as I passed the lined grass and into the seething darkness that captured me. I reached my destination. People behind me clapped as I picked up the last two logs. Heavy they were, as I turned on my feet and started to head back.

As expected, the gurgling made me pause and freeze in my spot. I stared into pitch-black darkness. Nothing. I looked over at the group as Bert yelled at me to “hurry my ass up”. I gulped and started walking once again. I continued. I was at the fire that was near the butcher tent and orange line when a branch snapped to my right, and, in a split second, I hit a grill and fell onto the ground.

I could hear myself scream, having my clothed arm in its mouth, tearing at the leather. Its hands tried to reach my face. I felt the heat rise in my face, though I couldn’t tell if it was the situation I was in or the gigantic fire behind the biter.

It was pulled off me in a matter of seconds. I rolled onto my stomach, the world spinning as I looked beside me. My eyes widened. Hue stood beside my lying body, a knife in hand as three biters crowded over him. Bert and the others were focused on the fire that was spreading rapidly. One lurched onto him, and he was able to kill that one, but the other was able to bite into his forearm, ripping out a chunk of skin. The third gripped his arm and bit into his neck, both causing a scream as he pulled it off. He kicked the third away, killing the second.

I stared at him as he turned, holding his arm as blood started to flow out. “I-I… I-” I felt tears overflow my eyes as I stared at him. My hands gripped the dirt. He dropped his knife and fell to the ground in a sitting position as he stared at me. I was able to crawl over to him quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. He examined his arm, which continued to bleed out. He didn’t have long.

“I… I like you, kid.” He said, with a smile, pain in his eyes. He breathed heavily. "You can’t be weak in this world… you’ll die just like me. Just like… I’m not built for this world.” He said. I shook my head and he only nodded, placing his bloodied hand on my face. I quickly held his bleeding forearm and he laughed, pressing his lips to mine, with little energy. “Run.” He whispered, falling against the tree he leaned on. I shook my head as I saw his eyes start to wave open and close. I heard him breathe in deep and shallowly, before letting his chest fall one last time. His eyes stared at me, keeping them open as I started to cry, shaking his shoulders.

“Wake- wake up!” I called him, his head falling. I gripped his sleeves, feeling my upper body start to fall and my forehead pressed against his knees as I sobbed.

Gripping hands threw me to the side and onto a tree. My pleas were unheard as Bert’s angry hands went to my face and threw me into the mud. The cutting started. Blood spilled down my arms. People ignored me, seeing me as a threat as he cut me up. I felt wasted, as blood rushed from my body slowly. My head was shoved into the dirt, and the fire was unsaveable.

People were rushing things away, trying to keep the fire from spreading further into the camp.

Everything was just a ringing tone in my ear. I felt the pain spread, and Bert's hands wandered as I lay helplessly on the ground. People refused to look at it, blaming the event on me, and letting me be cruelly punished. He would say things like, “You wanted all this attention, I’ll give it to you” or “I’ll get one last thing out of you before you die.”

I felt tears welded into my eyes. My hands gripped the mud as he yanked off my clothes. What was I to do, weak, cut, and close to naked where nobody heard my cry for help, not even allowing a glance?

I remember his words. Run. I should have. I should have listened to Hue, he warned me. Like he said, you can’t be weak in this world.

Screaming. Not mine. I looked up, not moving my head. His face was ripped apart to where I could see his skull. Scared, I tried crawling away, but his grip stayed on me, not letting me go. I tried pushing away from him.

It wasn’t until someone pulled him off of me that I was able to get was, sobbing for the other to leave me alone. I was yanked up. “Hey, boy.” My dad said, looking over me. He yanked me to his chest, looking at the two dead. I saw. The biter ripped his face off, Hue. Dead. That made me cry harder as I stared at him. Everything started spinning.

Replay.

Chapter 9

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #twd #the walking dead #twd x you #carl grimes x reader #male reader #twd x reader #negans son #negan #rick grimes #twd carl #carol peletier #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl

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echoes-in-blue · 7 months

Text

Mark Hoffman x Original Character AU - Canon Divergent Story. +18 Readers only.

Summary: What if Mark always had someone behind the scenes, watching his back and helping him out. What would happen after his death and resurrection? When lovers become partners in crime, there will be no stopping their revenge. Tags: Dom/sub, breath play, teasing, language, dirty talk, restraints, spanking, knife play, fear play, injury, gore, violence Notes: This story is fan fiction derived from the universe of the Saw movies and takes place at the end of Saw VI, diverting the canon from there and adding in a bit more of a Hoffman backstory. If you aren't fond of this idea, then feel free to skip. This story is not meant for anyone under the age of 18. Read at your own risk.

Chapter One: Backup Plan

“If you don’t hear from me, by midnight I need you to open this envelope.” “And if I do hear from you?” “Burn it, like the others.”

Typically, when he left things like that, he did contact her before midnight. It was funny to her that he believed she had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. At first, it hadn’t been so obvious but over time it became clear. Possibly because she was an FBI agent and a profiler. Did he underestimate her ability to figure it out or was he with her because he was very much aware that she knew who he was and what he was doing. The fact that it turned her on even though it shouldn’t and she was just as aware as him that she’d never turn him in. They were in love and had been since well before he’d become the Jigsaw apprentice. Things had only gotten more intense since that point. It was never explicitly stated between them what he was involved in but that didn’t matter. He knew she knew. It was why sometimes when he returned home he still had blood on his clothes, his gloves that gripped her chin so firmly. Forcing eye contact to make sure she knew her place. Sending chills down her spine into her very core, leaving her unable to deny how much she wanted him. He knew that too.

That night, though, it felt different. The way he told her the instructions. Almost as if he knew that something wouldn’t go right. She wished he’d tell her more, or at least let her help. The thing was that not speaking of these things in detail gave her the plausible deniability she would need should he get caught. The first person they would go to was his wife. Much like they had gone after Jill Kramer. The less she knew, the better she’d be able to fake it when they came around to interrogate her. No matter what, she’d never throw him under the bus. It wasn’t that she was blind to what was wrong with the situation but she could see, through his eyes, why he did what he did. As someone who worked in law enforcement herself it was easier to justify handing out such punishments to criminals who had skirted the law and never learned the value of their lives or impact of their behavior.

She couldn’t pretend like there weren’t suspects, perpetrators, and guilty men and women she had to deal with every day who she’d like to see maimed in one of those traps. She’d insinuated as much when she could get away with it. While watching the news, making sure to mention to him that some people just deserved what they got. It was not the correct stance for her to take as an agent of the law but nor was it correct for him as a detective so at least they were on the same page.

As she sat there, the clock ticking down, she realized that he had not contacted her. No text on her phone. The one she had as a burner just for these messages from him. It hadn’t rang either. The midnight hour drew closer, and closer, and when the old clock in their penthouse chimed twelve she knew for the first time she was going to have to open that envelope. It was something that excited her as much as terrified her because she didn’t know what she would find. Obviously, she was the failsafe in all of this and since she was a forensic psychiatrist that also made her a medical doctor. He had her as a life preserver because she could preserve life. She’d treated his wounds before when he couldn’t properly seek care for them lest they raise suspicion with local hospitals as to how he’d gotten them. As an heiress, she had connections and money to buy or find anything he could need to treat and hide the injuries until he was good as new. They were a perfect team because between the two of them they could get rid of anything that they didn’t want seen.

From the hidden safe in the wall she removed the instructions packet and opened it up. There she found only one thing. GPS coordinates. There was no explanation otherwise. Though he was smart enough to know that she would be aware that this place that he wanted her to go to was dangerous. Not that it mattered, since she always carried her weapon with her now thanks to being an FBI agent. She punched the coordinates into the burner phone and came up with a location. A warehouse in the middle of nowhere just about. Outside of New York City where they lived, near some docks in New Jersey right across the bridge. As far as she could tell, the property had been previously owned by John Kramer. Hopefully, she wasn’t walking into a death trap, nor would she arrive to find Mark’s dead and dismembered body somewhere on the premises.

“I may hurt you but I will never harm you, do you understand the difference?” He asked as she sat there, hands cuffed behind her back to the post of the bed that they shared. The concept of the dom/sub relationship was one she knew plenty about academically since she worked in sex crimes but she hadn’t put it into practice herself. They’d discussed it here and there but he knew more than she had. Especially that she was ready to start. “Look at me, Leila.” He put his fingers under her chin to lift her head up, forcing eye contact between them.

“I understand, sir.” She said, “Hurting means pain and temporary suffering but harm would be permanent and detrimental. I trust you not to harm me. I trust you with my life.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked quickly pulling a knife from his pocket to flick the blade up and brandish it within her line of sight. “It could be a foolish decision if you aren’t absolutely sure of what you are saying.”

“I know what I am saying and I know what I want.” She confirmed. He smirked and licked his lips slowly. Bringing the blade down he started to cut away the buttons of her blouse one by one until it fell open, exposing her bra. Then he brought it back up to cut the bra between the cups, splitting it to reveal her breasts. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The adrenaline rush combined with the arousal and the idea that she was completely helpless to his every whim was overwhelmingly erotic. Slowly, he ran the blade over her right breast to where her heart would be positioning the tip there to press into the skin enough to cause pain but not actually pierce it.

“I could kill you, if I wanted.” He said.

“But that isn’t what you want.” She replied. He smirked, sliding the knife over her skin enough to leave a scratch but not a cut until he got it to her jugular, resting the blade there where she could feel just how sharp it was against the vital area.

“What I want is for you to never know what I may or may not do but trust that ultimately this is a game we play and you will not come out of it harmed. As I said before.” He moved the knife from her neck to her lips, pressing the flat of it there. She looked at him, kissing the metal that she was presented with. He laughed softly and folded the blade into the handle before slipping the knife back into his pocket.

“So you want me to be afraid?”

“In a sense, yes, but I want you to trust me as well. Expect the unexpected.” He smirked and then pulled her into a hungry kiss.

She took care to be sure that no one had followed her where she was going. It wasn’t typical that anyone would follow her but she knew there were some eyes on Mark so that meant it was possible that people had eyes on her as well. When she pulled up to the place she found that it was indeed a warehouse. Hopefully, it was not one that involved any of John or Mark’s games. Though she could deal with dead bodies, gore, and mutilation since crime scenes were part of her everyday job, she did not want to leave any evidence that she’d been there. If that were the case. From her back pocket she pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on before grabbing onto the handle of the sliding door in front of her. Amazingly, it wasn’t locked, but she knew that potentially could mean bad news as well. She only opened it enough to look inside and then enter before shutting it again. The area was dark but not pitch black and in the back she could see a light, kind of in a corner.

Pulling her gun, she headed in that direction as quietly as possible, also making sure she wasn’t accidentally going to touch trip wires or step into a trap. This place had to be rigged with them. That much was obvious. She could see all sorts of things that would constitute as evidence from all of the Jigsaw games. When she got closer to the one light that was on she looked through one of the nearby mirrors to see if she could spot anyone in the room as she paused and held her breath. There was a groan and she turned her head towards it. In the corner she saw Mark holding a blood soaked wad of fabric tightly to his face. Holstering her gun, she hurried towards him and got down by his side.

“Mark, what the hell happened?” She asked. He looked at her, his eyes kind of glossy. There was no way he hadn’t lost a lot of blood but he was still conscious so that was good news in itself. Slowly, he pulled the fabric away from his face to show her that half of his cheek was split open. “Shit. We need to fix this.” He nodded, it was clear why he hadn’t called out to her when she’d arrived she doubted he could do much but groan and scream in that condition. She hurried to look through the warehouse to find something that could stitch his face up. The sooner the better. If he showed up at a hospital like that then he’d be caught immediately. There weren’t any real medical supplies in there, not any that would help with this specific injury but she did manage to find fishing wire and a hook. She could close up the wound and worried about infection later. It wasn’t like it would be hard to get antibiotics. Bringing the supplies over to him she got down and threaded the line through the hook.

“This is going to hurt a lot, but it will save your life. I can get you antibiotics after if you need them.” She said as she reached to pull his hand away from his face again. He let out a small groan and almost the moment she touched the hook to his skin he yanked away. “Mark, this has to be done now and…what happened to your hand?” She had only just noticed that it was broken, she could see bone.

“I can do it.” He said, or more accurately she was sure that’s what he meant to say with a huge flesh wound in the side of his face. If he had survived this far he probably could stitch up his own face, she didn’t doubt that.

“It will be faster if-”

“I’ll do it.” He snatched the hook away from her and very carefully got to his feet. She sighed, knowing there was no way to stop him from doing something he was determined to do himself. He hobbled over to the mirror she had been looking into before and pulled the lamp closer to it. Then he took in a deep breath and started to stitch up the wound in his face.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you now?” He asked. This was after she’d been blindfolded in such a way that she couldn’t see anything. Usually, when people messed around with blindfolds there was a lot of room for error. Letting light in or the ability to look down and see shadows. She wasn’t surprised that he knew what he was doing when it came to this sort of thing. “Answer me.”

“Anything you want.” She replied, “Master.”

“That’s a good girl.” He chuckled darkly and patted her on the cheek. She sensed movement around her, first on the bed shifting and then some kind of fabric around her neck. It wasn’t rope, it was something else. Perhaps one of his ties. The weight of the bed shifted again and she was still left sitting there with her arms handcuffed behind one of the posts. There was a pause and she heard a click then felt the cuffs release. There was no moment to recover from this as she was immediately yanked down and out of the bed by the tie around her neck. She yelped as she fell to the floor, with hardly any time to brace for impact. Somehow, she did manage to catch herself but just barely. “Quick thinking, I like that.”

“Thank you, sir.” She replied. The makeshift leash was tugged on again forcing her to crawl forward a bit then another sharp tug indicated that she needed to stop. She could hear him as he walked around behind her then felt his hands on her hips as he shoved her skirt up to reveal her panties. There was the swish of the blade from the knife popping up and the sensation of cold metal against her inner thighs. She gasped, shivered, and groaned softly as he started to cut the fabric of them away.

“My pleasure is your pleasure, your pain is my pleasure, anything I want is for me. Anything you are rewarded with, is just that. You have to earn things here, understood?” He asked then without much warning gave her a rough slap across the ass. She squealed and then nodded her head.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a faster learner. I wonder what else I can teach you.” He said, sounding very amused as she felt his fingers between her legs moving over the wet folds of her cunt. She groaned, knowing she was far more aroused than she should have been given the situation. He continued to tease her perfectly, as if he were playing an instrument that he was a master of. Working her closer and closer to climax before pulling his hand back to give her ass another slap. This was done in such an oddly timed way that she could never predict it and threatened to drive her insane. She didn’t know how long he had kept it up before she lost enough control to scream.

“Please!” She yelled, “Sir…please…”

“Do you even know what you are begging for?” He asked, “Fucking tell me what you want, Princess.” She whined and lowered her head, it was humiliating and so very fucking hot to hear him speak to her like that. She licked her lips slowly and took in a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth.

“Your cock, sir.”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“I…I want you to fuck me with it.”

“Why?”

“For your pleasure, I…I’m your naughty little fuck toy and I’m only here to serve you.” She breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He chuckled and gave her ass another slap. From behind her, she sensed more movement until she could feel the tip of his cock rubbing against her cunt, teasing and touching in all the right places. As she was about to yell out again for him to just hurry up he thrust into her and she moaned loudly. She’d have collapsed forward except for the fact that he had grabbed the tie around her neck and yanked back, keeping her upright lest she wanted to choke. From there he started to pound into her with reckless abandon. Every so often the fabric around her neck would restrict her airflow then release again. When she could draw breath all she could do was let it out as a moan. He’d never been so primal and dominant with her before, they’d dabbled in it sure but it hadn’t gotten this far. She knew she was already addicted to this and would never want it any other way. “Are you going to cum for me? Huh? You naughty little girl…”

“Y-Yes…Yes, sir…” She panted, when he allowed her the air to do so.

“Go on then, cum all over my cock.” He growled. She moaned again, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as his words triggered her climax. He moaned then as well, almost louder than her. The walls seemed to shake with the passion of it and she could nearly feel it vibrating through her as she hit her second climax then a third. Suddenly, the leash around her neck was released. She fell forward, unable to keep her weight up any longer. Then he was on top of her, pulling her close to him as he moved them both onto their side. She could do nothing but lay there basking in the afterglow of her orgasm feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her back. She silently hoped she’d never have to face a moment where such a motion ceased to exist when his blood would eventually run cold.

“You did a good job.” She said, once he was finished working on his face. It was quite impressive actually. Using just that dirty old mirror and some fishing line. She didn’t think she could have done it to herself even if it also meant the choice between life or death. “I have a first aid kit in my car. I can use that to see what I can do about your hand.”

“Be quick,” He said, “I don’t suppose you brought any painkillers with you.”

“Nothing heavier than tylenol but you know we are well stocked at home.” She stroked the side of his face that wasn’t injured and stood up. “Why did you need me to come here, this does seem like something you could have handled on your own.”

“I could have.” He said, reaching out to take her hand with his good one. He gave it a squeeze, “But that had nothing to do with it.”

“Then what else could it be?”

“Things didn’t go exactly according to plan and I’m going to need your help.” He replied, “Get the first aid kit. I'll explain more when you get back.” She nodded, knowing that his immediate care took priority over something he could explain after. If he seemed to think there was time to sit and talk she wasn’t worried about that before making sure he was stable and in as good of health as he possibly could be. As she exited the warehouse again, to get to her car, the gravity of the situation hit her. She had to pause for a moment, catch her breath, and try to stifle the tears that were threatening to fall. In all of this time, though she’d seen him injured, she had never seen him come as close to death as that. She’d also never in her wildest dreams expected for him to say anything about his plans not going as he’d devised them. How bad was it that he wanted her involved? She didn’t know. What she did know was that if someone had done this to him with the intent to end his life, she wanted revenge. Possibly even more than he believed he did at that moment.

#costas mandylor #mark hoffman #horror #saw franchise #saw movies #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman fan fiction

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idolatrybarbie · 5 months

Text

(belatedly) for my 50 follower celebration! @wannab-urs asked: max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." with a twist!

pairing: max phillips x fem!vampire!reader

word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit

content tags: reader is not American/not an "American vampire", porn with mild plot, pet names (honey, baby, sweetie, Maxxie), all the usual vampire genre warnings, including but not limited to - graphic blood and gore, cannibalism, mention of scars, horror themes, love as consumption, smut - mommy kink, degradation (max gets called a slut), cock slapping, dacryphilia if you squint, orgasm denial, handjob, alcohol mention, fluff.

notes: a good ol' hj. this is super belated but life got a little bit better again today so it's time to celebrate. tagging people who expressed interest in this concept at the bottom, mwah <3

He’s got a scar on his left shoulder where you marked him the first time. It seems like so long ago when you’d first taken him into your arms and shown him a new life. A new way to live with the gift he’d been given. Now he has dozens of other scars just like it, bigger or smaller in different places. Still, that one remains your favourite.

When Max wakes, his wrists are already bound together against the winding filigree of the headboard. You considered a hog tie, deciding against it when you got out the rope. For this, you want to see him. All of him.

He wriggles slightly as he comes to, returning from whatever the undead take for sleep. His kind are different from yours. It is what drew you to him in the first place. The great American vampire—you’d never seen one up close. His blood smelled so rich when you first met. You made it your mission for Max Phillips to be yours…and now, he is.

“What’s all this?” he asks, shifting his legs around. They move beneath the covers, rumpling the sheets.

“A project,” you say, sitting by his feet. If your heart could beat, it would be pounding in your chest. The anticipation is everything—this little cat and mouse ordeal being the delicious tip of the iceberg.

“A project?”

“More like a test. Been a while since you’ve had one of those, huh, Maxxie?” you ask.

Max enjoys taking. Pleasure is in the take, of keeping something. This suits you well enough most days; he’s well-behaved and generous. Pleasure is the foreground, but you both know who’s in control behind the scenes.

Some days, though, you aren’t satisfied in being the woman behind the curtain. Some days, you like for Max to give you a little show. Giving for him means giving it all. Today is one of those days.

“Honey,” he says, smugness wiped from his tone. “You know I’m no good at tests.”

“You’re wrong,” you return. “You are going to do just fine.” Max’s brow furrows when you press his nose like a button, grinning down at his body. “I’m going to make you feel good. But you aren’t allowed to finish. Not ‘til I tell you to. Simple, easy. You can do that, Max. Right?”

He wriggles on the bed a bit more, trying to keep his movements controlled and hidden from you. The thought must stir something in his stomach, a whispered yes falling from his lips. You get on the bed properly now, one knee on either side of his legs. Running your hands over the exposed skin of his thighs makes Max shudder. All the silvery marks and mottled skin beneath your hands makes you wet, getting to feel what you’ve done to him.

When you move your hands closer to the hardness in his briefs, Max freezes. He lets you work the piece of clothing from him as he watches. Discarding the underwear on the floor, you focus your attention back on him. The head of his cock is the slightest bit red, the blood he’s consumed flushing his skin.

“Aw, that looks like it hurts,” you say.

“It does,” Max nods. His words elicit no reaction from you, watching him from your seat over his knees. He corrects himself, “It does, Mommy. Sorry.”

You take him into your hand then, the skin of his cock warm against your palm. Another neat trick of the American vampire: warm-blooded. Your skin must feel ice cold against him, but you think he likes that. Max cants his hips up the slightest bit. He’s hoping you won’t notice. Unfortunately for him, you do.

Pulling your hand away, Max groans at the loss of touch. His cock stands at attention, waiting for anything you’re willing to give him. With an open palm, you slap it length-wise. Max draws in a sudden breath, hips jumping.

“Mommy, please. I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” you say with the shake of your head. “Every time you misbehave is just extra time you have to wait. So…one.”

“Mommy—” Max begins.

“Don’t make it worse for yourself, Maxxie.”

You go back to stroking him with light hand movements, watching Max bite his tongue. You pinch the skin at his shoulder and watch his arm jerk away. It makes you laugh.

“You don’t like a little bit of pain?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

Your palm is slick with his precum, lubricating every slide of your hand. Picking up the pace a little bit makes Max part his lips in a moan. When his eyelids flutter, you scrape the nails of your other hand against the skin of his thigh. His breath catches in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

“You know what? You’re a terrible liar,” you say.

“I’m not lying, Mommy. I promise,” Max says. Your hand is still on him. His eyes are glued to your face when they open again, resisting the urge to look down at where you two touch.

“Yeah, you are,” you singsong.

You scratch at his thigh again, feeling the skin break. There’s something about digging your nails in and feeling blood and tissue underneath that just does it for you. You rub the pads of your fingers into the scratch, coaxing blood from the wound. Smeared red, you bring those fingers to your lips to savour.

“Fuck.”

“A bad word? That’s two.” Max throws his head back against the metal of the headboard with a light thunk. “You like it. I can taste it,” you say. “Like it when I hurt you a little, huh?”

“Mommy,” Max pants.

“Baby, it’s okay. No shame in that.” Moving closer to his ear, you hum. “It’s alright being mommy’s little pain slut.”

The words elicit begging from the man beneath you, a desperate string of pleasepleaseplease filling the air. You know he’s close. It doesn’t mean much to you.

“No baby.” You slow your hand down, pumping his cock languidly as it leaks across your fingers. “We’re not done yet.” Getting a grip at the base of his length, you squeeze him. He sighs hard through his nose as the building fire in his gut dulls to an ebb.

“This isn’t fair,” Max complains.

“Mmhm,” you purr, cheek to cheek now. “You think that bad boys get fair?” Nuzzling into the warmth of his skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” he says.

“I don’t believe you.” So close to his body, your mouth waters at the smell of him. You lick at Max’s jaw, trailing your tongue along the column of his throat before reaching his shoulder. “You want to be a good boy? Let me take a bite.”

“Mommy—”

“Maxxie.”

He takes a deep breath and nods, giving you permission. First you mouth at the skin, feeling it against your lips. Reveling in his heat. You resume the pace of your hand jerking him off, the hard lines of his shoulders relaxing. Max’s cock is wet and sloppy between the two of you, bright red and probably aching. Just how you want him.

The bite you take is small, flesh spongy between your sharp teeth. It’s soft in your mouth, sliding between your tongue and palate when it goes down easy. Max bleeds, a dribble spilling into a small stream across his chest and down his arm. You lick at the crimson, letting it pool in your mouth as you perch your lips over the wound.

His blood slides to the bed, soaking white sheets a dark red. In another life, it would be a bottle of Zinfandel carelessly spilled—a waste of the best wine in the world. In this life, Max is the only vice you need. His flavour, the flow, that potency. The taste of Max Phillips on your tongue makes you lightheaded. Plasma and platelets, sure, but so much more. It’s heady and raw; the tang of a rough fuck and a sweet kill.

That rush of ending a life. Holding someone’s soul in your hands and snuffing it out. You can feel every life that he has taken, theirs for his own immortal one. It’s their blood, truly, but all of it has been mixed up and ran through Max’s body enough to make it uniquely him. What better high is there than ravaging and killing the man who kills, and knowing you get to do it all over again?

You ask, “More?”

He says, “Yes.”

So you take another bite, and another. All of them surface wounds. They will heal and scar. His body will knit itself back together all for you to tear him apart again. Just the way you like it. The way he does, too.

You deny him twice more of his release, tutting carefully as you watch Max reel back from the edge over and over. Your hand on his dick must hurt more than the biting or the denial now, but he hasn’t told you to stop.

“Mommy, I can’t,” he shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t.”

You love reducing such a smug and self-assured creature to a sniveling little boy.

“Do you want me to stop?”

A cry tears itself from his throat, your hand still moving quickly. Blood has pooled in his lap, streaking across his hips and thighs.

“No, I just—I can’t,” he snarls. Max’s face morphs into that distinguishable frightening form. His true self. That doesn’t scare you, though.

“You can and you will, baby. You’re almost there. So close. You’re doing so good for mommy,” you say. Kissing his cheeks, you can’t help when your tongue darts out to catch a tear that falls. “What do you need?”

“Kiss me. Please,” Max says. His words come out breathy, light gasps punctuating each one. “Tell me you love me.”

“Aw, Maxxie. Of course I love you. You look so pretty like this.”

Pressing a peck to his nose has Max melting. He leans his torso against you when you finally connect at the mouth. The kiss is soft and slow, the exact opposite of your hand around his length. You slip him your tongue, letting Max taste himself. He moans into your mouth before he pulls away the slightest bit.

He’s breathing against you, still trying to participate in the kiss as he falls off the edge; as you push him. He cums quietly, only a low whimper and heavy breathing to show for it. His spend is sticky across the back of your hand. It dribbles down to your wrist. One liquid mixes in with another, semen and gore staining the both of you.

You cradle his cheek with the messy palm of your hand. The haze in his eyes clears and Max refocuses, looking at you.

“There’s my baby,” you sigh. “Do you feel good?”

The wounds have started to clot, flow slowing as blood dries over his skin and yours. He nuzzles into your cold hand.

“Feel great,” he smiles, and you can tell that he’s back to himself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” you ask.

“Just a minute,” Max says. He puts his arms around you, holding you tight and pulling your body into the mess. Blood smears against your clothes, but you could not care less. “Thank you. I love you.”

You can feel his words thrumming in your veins.

tagging: @beskarandblasters @covetyou

#max phillips #max phillips fanfiction #pedrostories #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x reader #50 followers #gin 🥂

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slutforsilverfoxes · 10 months

Text

Miles to Go

TW: Without giving too much away, the following fic contains discussion of/allusions to mental health issues, violence, and gore- please read at your own discretion

—————

7 minutes and 39 seconds.

You tear your gaze away from the large analogue clock mounted on the wall and refocus your attention on the blonde in the corner who’s been muttering to himself since he entered the lobby nearly eight minutes ago. Shuffling some papers around on the desk in front of you, you lean down to whisper to one of the receptionists. “Has that young man checked in for an appointment? Or spoken with any of you yet?”

She follows your line of sight to the male who can’t be more than thirty, his brow now furrowed as he animatedly whispers to his left. The seat beside him is empty. She shakes her head and you let out a quizzical little, “Hm.”

It’s not uncommon for addicts to wander into the VA hospital, unsure if they’re looking for help or a hit. Either way, you didn’t go through four-plus years of medical school to turn away someone who’s clearly in need of assistance.

Approaching slowly in the hopes of mitigating any panic, you stop before the young man and wait for him to look up at you. With a smile, you point to the seat beside him and open with, “Hi, can I sit there?” He glances worriedly to his left again, then shakes his head.

“Okay, that’s alright. I’m Doctor Gibbs. What’s your name?”

“Can’t- can’t say. He said I shouldn’t talk to anyone.”

“Okay, hon,” you offer gently, letting out a small groan as you squat down and your knees creak in protest. How are you only 47 but your body feels ancient? You should really stop teasing your husband about his age. “I won’t ask you to talk then. Can I ask you a couple of questions, and you just give me a nod yes or no?”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze and you take a moment to study his features. Dull eyes. Mydriasis. Ulcerated bottom lip, likely from a nervous habit of chewing it. He scratches his cheek, and you notice a patch of stubble that he missed while shaving. He jerks his head down once, and you realize he’s agreeing to your offer.

“Do you know where you are?” A nod.

“Do you need some help?” A nod, and then after a beat, he shakes his head vigorously.

“Okay,” you soothe, “that’s alright.” He drops his gaze to his bouncing leg and you take the opportunity to scan him from head to toe. His hair is disheveled, beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. He’s donning a bulky sweatshirt and jeans despite the oppressive June heat, and he has on mud-coated work boots. He anxiously scratches the same spot on his cheek, and you see a glint of metal on his ring finger. “You’re a Marine?” A nod followed by a wry twisting of his lips and a subtle shake of his head. “Not anymore,” he rasps out.

“My husband was in the Corps, too. Semper Fi, right? Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

“No!” he barks back, jerking his head up with a fire in his eyes. “Andrew said not anymore. They made us hurt people- innocent people.” His sudden movement has caused his hoodie to shift, and you swallow roughly at what’s been revealed underneath.

“Andrew’s your friend?” He nods once more. “Did he come here with you today?” His eyes shift to his left then back to you, narrowed, before he bows his head.

“Can’t talk to you anymore,” he mumbles. “Drew says we can’t trust anyone.”

“Okay,” you respond softly, instinctively reaching out to lay a hand on him for comfort before retracting your arm. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. I have some appointments to deal with, but I’ll be back, alright? You and Drew wait here.” You can feel his gaze on your back as you return to the safety of the desk.

Grabbing a notepad and pen, you ask your receptionist to run through the day with you as you jot down some thoughts. “…and then your last one’s at 4:30, but they requested to move it up if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you answer her with a smile. “These are my progress notes from Harry’s appointment this morning. Can you enter them and send a copy to his PT?” You tear off the top sheet and hand it to her, watching her eyes flash before she quickly controls her facial expression. “You’ve got it, Gibbs.”

With a quick squeeze of her shoulder you murmur, “You’re the best.”

As your receptionist heads back to relay your message to the nursing staff, you pick up the receiver from its cradle on the desk and dial your husband’s number. The sound of his voice, the warm rumble of his usual “Hey, honey,” instantly soothes you, and the smile on your face is genuine despite your heart hammering in your chest.

“Hi, my love,” you answer in kind, the nail of your index finger scratching away at the cuticle of your thumb. “We’re still on for dinner at David’s on J street, right? I’m worried we might have to push our reservation back.”

On the other end of the line, the NCIS agent snaps for his team’s attention as he puts his cellphone on speaker. “Write down everything she says, word for word,” he instructs McGee, placing the phone down on the younger agent’s desk. “Dinner at David’s on J street.” Brow furrowed, he returns his focus to you. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Jay, I’m gonna make it to dinner,” you laugh breezily, keeping an eye on the lobby as it steadily empties out. The young man seems to have noticed too, the bouncing of his leg growing more rapid and his eyes darting back and forth between the hallway leading to the exam rooms and you at the desk. “I’ve been eyeing up the dessert menu since my lunch break and the Alaska sounds amazing. I can’t wait to-”

“Put the phone down!”

In the span of a heartbeat, the blonde has crossed the lobby and now stands in front of you, his hoodie open and revealing a rainbow of wiring. He’s gripping something tightly in a shaky fist, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sight. Putting your hands up in a placating gesture, you say, “Let’s all stay calm, okay? You, me, and Andrew. We’re going to do this together.” You can hear Jethro through the phone still, calling your name.

Daring a glance around the lobby, you breathe a sigh of relief seeing that it’s only the two of you remaining. “Can I tell him goodbye before I hang up? It’s just my husband, and I don’t want him to worry,” you explain softly.

His jaw twitches, and he looks to the empty seat behind him before turning back to you and nodding. Lifting the phone to your ear again, you say, “Jay, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you.”

You return the phone to its cradle, then crane your neck to gesture to the seating area in the lobby. “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable? I want to help you, but I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

He shakes his head, doleful eyes watching your every move.

“Then let’s just talk here,” you suggest. “They made you hurt people before, right? You don’t want to do that again.”

“You don’t-” He shakes his head again, more forcefully this time, and flexes his fingers around the object in his hand. “You don’t know me.”

“You’re right,” you answer, slowly lowering your hands and instead offering open palms in an attempt to build trust. “I don’t know you, but I do want to help you. I’m a doctor, and it’s my job to help people like you. Like you and Andrew.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he turns back to you and drops his voice before confiding, “He said if I do this then I can sleep. I just want to sleep.”

A wave of sorrow washes over the fear roiling in your gut. “Let me help you,” you plead, ever so slowly extending your arms to reach toward him. You curl your fingers around his hand, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “That’s it,” you coach as his grip slackens bit by bit. “Nice and easy, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Panic floods his eyes then, adrenaline making his pupils so wide that you can barely see the blue ring of his irises around them. “Don’t!” He wrenches his hand out of yours, chest heaving with shaky breaths, and you take a step back to give him space. “If I let this go now,” he pants, “we both die.”

“Somebody get me eyes in that hospital right now!” Gibbs barks at his team, halfway across the city. He stares at his phone in utter disbelief, willing your melodic voice to come back through the offending device. Just making sure you remember our code, old man, you’d tease. See you at home.

“Gibbs?” Ziva’s hand on his arm has him hurtling back to reality, concern tightening her features as she tries to get his attention. In a rare show of affection, Gibbs places his hand over her own, squeezing it gratefully. “I’m alright.” She registers an emotion swimming in his eyes that she’s never seen before in their leader, and it sends a chill down her spine- fear.

“Let’s figure out what she was trying to tell us.” He gestures for the team to huddle up once more around McGee’s desk where the tech savvy agent is trying to access the camera feed in your hospital.

“There’s no J Street in D.C.,” Ducky points out.

“No, there’s not,” his friend agrees, then explains, “When this crazy girl decided she wanted to put up with me for life, we decided that would be our code if either of us was ever in danger. Never thought I’d hear it, though,” he laughs wryly and shakes his head.

Tony presses further, “And what about David’s? Is that where you had your first date or something?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Gibbs responds.

“Boss, I’ve got today’s security footage,” Tim pipes up, and all heads swivel to his monitor.

“Is it live?”

McGee shakes his head, pursing his lips in consternation. “It’s going to take me some time to hack into the live feed, but I have what’s been archived from the day so far.”

“Skip ahead to 12:30.” Dozens of patients and scrub-clad employees scramble around on the screen in what would be comedic fashion had the situation been different. “There!” Your husband spots you on the screen, your white coat standing out in the lobby. He traces your line of sight to a male seated by himself in the corner of the room. Pointing at the screen, he asks, “Can you zoom in on him?”

McGee does as requested, the young man’s grainy visage coming into view. “I’ll run this through facial rec.”

“Look for any association with an ‘Andrew,’ too,” Gibbs tacks on, recalling your mentioning that name.

“Something is not right here,” Ziva notes, squinting as she gets even closer to the monitor. “Why is he wearing a sweatshirt in this awful weather?”

“Alaska!” Ducky cries out suddenly, and everyone’s attention turns to him. “That’s what Y/N was trying to tell us.”

“Enlighten the rest of us, Duck,” Gibbs says roughly.

“Jethro,” his dear friend starts regretfully, “I’m afraid you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“I’m going to get you out of this,” you say with conviction, your voice strong and steady in direct opposition to your shaky hands. “Look at me.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, and he has the distinct visage of a scared little boy. “I’m going to get you out of this,” you repeat, willing him to believe your words. As you look over the convoluted wiring, you ask, “Can you tell me your name? I’m Y/N.”

“I’m- I’m…”

“… Petty Officer Sean Cassidy, twenty-seven years old,” McGee supplies. “Looks like he enlisted with his best friend, Andrew Duggan, fresh out of high school. Cassidy and Duggan were on a mission with a joint task force in Afghanistan that got taken out by a jihadist group with an IED. Only Cassidy survived…” McGee’s voice trails off as he scrolls through more documentation, “…but he was in a medically induced coma for nearly two years. He was honorably discharged during that time and just returned to civilian life three months ago.”

“Talk about survivor’s guilt,” Tony sighs. “Add in some PTSS and lack of follow-up and we’ve got the perfect storm.”

“Uh, Gibbs?” Ziva’s voice rises in pitch as she calls out from her spot in front of the flatscreen. “You are going to want to see this.”

The senior most agent curses under his breath, watching the ticker tape scroll along the bottom of the screen: Live hostage situation at Liberty VA Hospital. Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, he tosses the company car keys to DiNozzo. Pointing at McGee he says, “You stay here and keep us updated on what’s going on. Get me access to those cameras. David, DiNozzo, you’re with me.”

“You’re doing really well, Sean,” you say softly. “My friend is an expert with these, and I really think she could help us. Will you let me call her?”

He swallows thickly, and a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “Promise me it’s not a trick.”

“I promise.”

He drops his head into a nod, and you slide your cellphone out of your back pocket before searching for ‘Ziva’ in your contacts and clicking on her name. The phone barely rings twice before the line crackles to life. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Z,” you answer, unsure if you’re trying to reassure her or yourself. “I’m here with my friend, Sean-”

“Don’t say my name,” he hisses, stealing a glance at the chair in the corner.

“It’s okay, son, we already know your name.” Your husband’s voice, strong and steady in the face of danger, has your bottom lip involuntarily quivering. “Is Andrew with you guys, too?”

“You can trust my husband, Sean,” you whisper. “He’ll understand.”

He worries at the spot on his bottom lip, breaking the damaged skin again and causing blood to ooze out, before seemingly making up his mind. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” Gibbs responds, and you can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on, Sean?”

“I just-” Tears well in his eyes, and your heart lurches. For the second time that day, you find yourself thinking He’s just a kid. “I just want to sleep, sir.”

“Ya having nightmares?”

“I hear their screams every time I close my eyes,” he whispers.

“I used to have nightmares, too,” Jethro confesses, “every damn night.”

“But not anymore?” Sean asks, hopeful.

“I, um-” He clears his throat before continuing, and you know he’s recalling how you two first met. “I got some help from Doctor Gibbs, actually.” In the car, Ziva and Tony silently exchange a glance. “She can help you, too, Sean. And Andrew.”

Training his baby blues on you, the young Marine lets out a heavy breath before quietly confessing, “I don’t want to die, sir.”

“Sean,” you interject, “no one’s going to die here today. I told you I’m going to get you out of this and I meant what I said, okay?”

“Listen, we’re still ten minutes out, but there’s a bomb tech outside who can-”

“No!” Sean suddenly grows agitated, forcefully shaking his head as he begins pacing the lobby and yelling, “No, no, no! You said this wasn’t a trick!” Wheeling on you, he demands, “Were you lying to me?”

Still cradling your phone, you put your hands up in deference and calmly reassure him, “It’s not a trick, I promise. I’m not trained to-”

Gone is the fear from his voice, his now icy tone sending a shiver down your spine. “If anybody tries to come inside this building, I’ll take the whole thing down with us in it.”

“Jethro,” you order, “tell them to back off. We’re fine on our own.” Trying to calm his frenetic steps, you ask him, “Can you walk me through how to disarm this thing?”

“I don’t-” With his free hand, he scratches the spot of stubble once more. “I don’t remember. Drew helped me, he’s good at engineering and stuff.”

Son of a bitch. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you offer, “Maybe Drew can show me what to do.”

His brows furrow as he searches around the room. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, Tim, what is it?” Gibbs picks up his phone as the company car squeals into the parking lot outside your hospital, Tony and Ziva still tuned into your conversation with Sean. “I’ve got the live footage, Boss. There’s no audio but I can patch the feed in to-”

“Here, Tony.” He hands the phone over to his agent who’s booting up a tablet in the back seat, then steps out of the car to speak with HRT. “Gibbs, NCIS,” he announces his arrival, flashing his badge. “My wife’s in there with a former Marine, and we’ve already established a rapport.”

“I’ve got Alpha and Bravo teams stationed at the front and back exits, ready to go on your command, sir,” the team leader says.

“Tell your men to stand down,” Gibbs orders. “No sirens, no lights, no bullhorns. He’s a kid, a scared kid who just needs some help.”

“All due respect, sir, I think we should breach soon. As you said, your wife is in there with him.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs snarls, stepping closer until their noses are nearly touching, “and if you go in there trigger happy and his finger slips off that detonator, you’ll be in the ground before your next breath. Stand. Down.”

“Okay, Y/N,” Ziva begins, “McGee’s got us access through the camera in the lobby so we can see what you see. I am going to take you through this step by step. Do you have some scissors? Or a scalpel, I guess?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you smile as you slide your utility knife from your pants pocket, an anniversary gift from your Marine. “Rule number nine.”

“That’s my girl,” Gibbs murmurs, watching you on the small screen.

“I know it looks complicated, but it is a pretty simple setup,” Ziva continues coaching you, the steady cadence of her voice giving you strength. “You are going to make three precise cuts, Y/N. Green, then blue, then red. Got it?”

Placing your phone on the floor next to you so both hands are free, you mentally prepare yourself, and after locking eyes with Sean, you nod. “Green, blue, red. Stay still for me, okay?”

Heart hammering against your ribcage, you say a silent prayer that you’ll make it home to your husband tonight, the opposite of your usual morning mantra. Then, you suck in a deep breath and make the first cut.

Finding yourself still in one piece, you move your hands to the blue wire. “One down, two to go. We’re almost there, Sean.”

“We’re almost there,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as you slice through the blue.

“Hey, Jay?” you call, delicately moving the cut pieces aside to reach the final wire. “You remember what I said on our first date when you tried to convince me not to date you?”

The NCIS agent absentmindedly reaches for the ring on his left hand, anxiously twisting it around his finger. “You said ‘I like a little adventure in my life’,” he recalls fondly, clearing his throat after his voice breaks on the last word.

“Well, baby,” you murmur, “here’s to adventure.”

“Open your eyes, Sean,” you say softly. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?” You help the young blonde peel his fingers off of the detonator, then slowly, carefully, remove his hoodie and the vest from his body. “We’re going to get you the help you need, and you’re finally going to be able to rest.”

“Doctor Gibbs,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I’m sorry. It’s just that- well, sometimes, I feel like I’m still there and-”

“You’re okay,” you soothe, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm and try to ground him to reality. “You’re okay, Sean. When you’re ready, we’ll go outside together so you can talk to my husband, alright? Why don’t we sit down for a few minutes and-”

The distinct sound of helicopter blades whirring overhead drowns your voice out, and you see Sean’s eyes flood with panic once more. Snatching up your phone from its spot on the ground, you yell, “Get that chopper out of here right now! Ziva? Can you hear me?”

Sean begins pacing frantically, gnawing on his lip with renewed fervor and scratching the same spot on his cheek. “Sean, look at me,” you plead, lowering your voice as the noise outside mercifully dies down. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

He stops and turns to you, clearly confused and agitated. “Where’s Drew?”

“I’m sure he’s just outside, waiting for us.”

Sean lets out a frustrated grunt and shakes his head. “No, no, he’s supposed to be here with me. I need to know where he is.” He reaches into his back pocket, and you see the smallest blip of red shift from the wall to his chest.

You scream out, “Get down,” but your words are drowned out by the shattering of glass from behind you.

Dropping to your knees, you pull as much of his body into your lap as you can, pressing down on the freshly blooming wound in his chest. “Somebody help me!” Your throat feels raw but you yell out again, desperate for somebody outside the thick walls of the building to hear you.

Sean looks up at you with wide eyes, and somehow he looks even younger now. Bile floods your mouth, but you swallow it back down. “Don’t give up on me, okay? We’re in a hospital, we’re going to get you help.”

His eyelids flutter and he grimaces as he releases the cellphone from his grip and lifts his hand to cover yours. “Please- Please don’t leave me.”

Tears blurring your vision, you answer, “I’m not going anywhere,” your voice a lot stronger than you feel right now. Craning your neck behind you, you yell in another futile attempt, “Someone please, help us!”

When you turn back to Sean, his breathing has grown more shallow. “Don’t you leave me,” you implore, pressing your hands even harder against his chest and willing the rivulets of red to stop flowing between your fingers. You want to close your eyes, want to turn away, but you won’t let him leave this world feeling alone and afraid. Maintaining pressure with your left hand, you cup his cheek with your right and brush your thumb over his cheekbone. Mustering up a soft smile, you whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”

And then his body goes slack beneath your fingertips.

You throw your entire weight into performing chest compressions, breathing out ragged puffs of One, two, three, four, five, your body going into autopilot even as the pool of blood growing beneath you taunts that he’s not coming back.

Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, you whip around and demand with a snarl, “What the hell took you so long? Help me!” You turn back to Sean and keep pumping against his chest, your own heaving with exertion and the force of keeping your sorrow at bay.

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder gently pulling you away, and Jethro whispers a single word that shatters the dam. “Honey.”

You collapse against him, sobbing, and he tucks you into his chest. Curling your bloodied hands against your body, you garble through tears, “I could’ve saved him, Jay. Why didn’t they let me save him?”

Jethro doesn’t say anything, just holds you in his lap until the flurry of activity around you becomes too much to handle. You look up at him with bloodshot eyes, and he immediately understands, standing and helping you up, then walking you out to the periphery of the crime scene. An EMT rushes over, gently curling a trauma blanket around your suddenly frail body, and guides you to sit on the edge of the ambulance. You see her lips moving but are unable to make out her words through the buzzing in your ears. “…Ma’am? Ma’am?” Failing to get a response from you, she turns to your husband with a worried glance and says, “I think she’s in shock.”

“I’m fine, dammit,” you snap, “I’m a fucking doctor.”

She takes a step back at the ferocity in your voice, and Jethro puts a hand on your face, forcing you to look at him. “Let her take care of you. Please?”

His gentle tone softens the broken bits of you, and you turn back to the EMT. With a shudder, you whisper, “I’m sorry, I don’t- It’s been a really long day. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” she murmurs. “I just want to check your vitals and then you’re finally going to be able to rest.”

Her words harken back to your final moment of calm with the young Marine, and you numbly hold out your arm as she fits the blood pressure cuff around your bicep. Tears trickling down your cheeks, you watch the coroner’s gurney roll across the parking lot. At least you can finally get some sleep.

[A/N: Please know I did a bunch of research while writing this to try and do justice to these very real mental health conditions, and I sincerely apologize if I misrepresented them in any way. I was inspired by an early episode of NCIS and a later line in the show where Ducky talks about DC not having a “J street”. It’s also my first foray into a fic that doesn’t wrap up all nice and pretty, so I wanted to push myself as an author. I’m always open to feedback and ways to amend/improve my writing, so please let me know if you have suggestions or can help me make the character’s portrayal more accurate. As always, thank you for reading 🖤]

#NCIS #ncis gibbs #ncis fanfiction #ncis fic #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x you #jethro gibbs x y/n #leroy jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #angst #i made myself sad

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oh-yeah-i-exist · 7 months

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Let me take care of you

Astarion x Durge OC (Eiji) oneshot

Author's note: the idea came to me when I realized I'd been giving all my healing potions and strong spells to Astarion.

Content warning: some gore (par for the course in this game), a bit angst but mostly fluff. Might contain SPOILERS.

Camp was more quiet than usual. Fighting a conniving wizard and his elemental myrmidons had not been an easy feat - even Dame Aylin, who had emerged victorious against yet another villain aspiring to exploit her immortality, had fallen into contemplative silence. By her own words, revenge felt... hollow. In quick succession, the proverbial "bad guys" had fallen by their swords and spells, but when would it all end? Was the end where they really wanted to be? A long road lay ahead, with the Elder Brain still writhing violently against its loosening chains. The party knew what they had to do, knew the price of being the hero, but Gods, a deep exhaustion had settled into their bones this night and none could shake it off quite so easily.

As she peeled off her dusty boots, Eiji mulled over her decisions. Though many in the group would sooner keel over and die than admit they were following anyone's leadership, the bulk of strategic planning had fallen on her shoulders. And as if resisting her psychopathic god of a father was not enough of a monumental task, she had her companions' conflicting desires to balance. Choosing Dame Aylin over the powerful wizard, who could have been a valuable ally instead of a useless, crumpled corpse, was one of those bets she was not entirely certain would bear fruit. Strong and fearsome as the Moonmaiden's shining offspring was, Aylin's temper may yet prove to be her undoing - without thinking, without a single moment of hesitation, the paladin had charged headfirst into battle, practically forcing Eiji's hand. Being referred to by the celestial being as "ally mine" afterwards was barely a reward, and it appeared that even Isobel understood the tension when she'd expressed her fear of her lover's future folly and offered her thanks.

But without any clear recollections of her bloodied past, there was not much else Eiji could rely on besides her instincts. And her first instinct was to never betray her companions, her friends, no matter their faults.

Rummaging through her pack, she was surprised to find five bottles of superior healing potion. She could have sworn her stock had been down to only one or two, especially since she had explicitly refrained from using the precious resource during battle. Even with the mysterious surplus, she figured there was nothing a night's sleep wouldn't fix. No point wasting the very thing that could save someone else's life the next day.

"You know, I do feel for the Dame, considering how revenge against Cazador gave me less catharsis than... well, emptiness," came Astarion's voice behind her back. As was natural for creatures of the night, the pale elf's footfalls were as light as a feather and made no sound, allowing him to make her heart jump whenever he drew near on his own accord.

Straightening up from reorganizing her pack, Eiji sighed in agreement. The movement caused the wound on her back to stretch and throb painfully. She tried to hide a wince, but nothing escaped her lover's blood-red gaze.

"Gods, there really is no justice in the world, is there?" continued Astarion with a frown, taking her pack from her hands. He strode towards a fallen tree trunk nearby and motioned for her to follow suit. Since that one evening in the Underdark, which felt like a century's worth of ceaseless struggle ago, they had grown accustomed to sharing these private conversations while the rest of the party hunkered down for a long rest.

"I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of sneaking these into your possession if I'd known you were too stubborn to use them," Astarion abruptly changed the subject, his tone going from contemplative to annoyed.

"I-- what?" Eiji turned to look at him, genuinely confused. It was the last thing she'd expected him to mention, given where their conversation had started. "Don't tell me you didn't even realize you had healing potion on you," the elf rolled his eyes.

"No, I... I saw them," though not quite understanding what the fuss was about, Eiji went along with his harmless banter. "But I don't think I need them, really. I'll just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, good as new."

"By that same logic, the rest of us should just snooze our injuries off instead of using the potions you so generously lavished on us," he pointed out. "Or is there something special about Bhaalspawn physiology that I might want to know?"

"No, I don't think so..." she answered under her breath. Vaguely, she was beginning to catch the drift beneath his characteristic quips. "But I don't lavish anything on anyone. I do what is necessary," she insisted. It was not entirely the truth. Only now did it come to her attention that indeed, she'd been loading her companions with as much aid as she could, her own safety be damned. And she might even be guilty of favoritism, seeing how she invariably made it a priority to shield her lover on the battlefield. It was as though her body moved on its own, without so much as a conscious thought on her part.

"And you find it necessary to leave yourself an easy target?" Astarion retorted, almost angry at what he deemed utmost foolishness. "Gods, I should have known you were doomed when you first started feeding Gale our hard-earned loot."

"That was necessary, too. Can't have him blowing us all up one sunny day," she chuckled, half-hoping the joke would persuade him from this particular line of inquiry. But she could see it in his eyes that he wasn't going to let it go. She could see his worry behind the annoyance, his concern and affection. Hells, she could see his love that she returned in equal measure. "I just don't want to see anyone hurt. I don't want to see you hurt. I wouldn't be able to think of anything else during a fight if..."

Astarion's expression softened as he listened intently to her quiet words. Gently taking her hand in his, he asked, "And has it ever occurred to you how much it pains me to see you fall?"

She said nothing in reply, rubbing his knuckles with the pad of her thumb in an effort to soothe him.

"There has been enough pain and suffering in my life to haunt me for a thousand years. If you're really asking me to stand aside and lose the one person I've ever truly cared for, then you should just drive a stake through my heart and end it all," he said shakily, lacing their fingers together so she'd know there was no smoothing over the matter. "Let me take care of you. Please."

For a moment, she refused to look at him. But he waited. Until she finally caved and leaned her forehead against his, letting him support her wary body. "Alright," she breathed, arms circling around his midriff for an embrace.

"Alright," he smiled, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck. Gingerly, he pulled away just enough to be able to examine the cuts on her cheeks. "I've got you, darling."

#bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #my oc: eiji

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mishapocalyse · 1 year

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Chapter Two: One on One Within The Great Hall// A Place To Call Home For Now

Description: Not many travel up the walls of Asgard, and you are one of the few. When searching for Atreus, you encounter much on your way as a long journey lies ahead of you.

Description for this chapter: You follow Heimdall to the Great Lodge, along the walk, you find Atreus. As it is a happy reunion there is much to unravel.

Pairings: Heimdall GOW! x Reader// Thor GOW! x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Gore, Mentions of alcohol, Abuse, Sexual content, sexual assault, mentions of suicide, mental illness may be within this fan fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

You have been warned.

There could be other horrible more death craving things that you would have wanted. Instead, you were trailing behind a man, who had first insulted your presence but also had almost killed you on sight.

Either of those were not the most welcoming, as you glared daggers into the back of his head. Grötti chattered, slung against your shoulder, while you waved him off. You had done your best to silence him, gaining the glare in return from the god in front of you.

In silence, Heimdall held much hatred for your presence as you followed him through Gladsheim, towards what you were hoping was Odin's Great Lodge.

Had it not been for the sudden stop, face planting into the man in front of you, falling backwards onto your rear--you would have been less surprised.

"Watch where you're going...mortal filth." sneered the god of foresight.

You held your tongue, getting back onto your feet. In front of him was none other than Odin himself, who had Atreus by his side, deep in conversation with the boy about something secretive. When Heimdall had cleared his throat, you could tell that the All Father himself grew increasingly annoyed with him.

"What is it...Heimdall?" Odin had asked, while you caught eyes with Atreus, who practically beamed at your presence.

He had ran to you, arms outstretched as you drew him into a tight hug.

"My boy!" You cried, earning looks from both Heimdall, Odin, and the other bystanders nearby.

Atreus could not help but to shed a few tears, while they stained the cloth of your tunic, you couldn't help but to raise his face to look at him.

"My dear boy, Atreus...oh how I have missed you. You were missing for weeks. We have been worried sick at home." You cried.

Atreus buried his face back into the leather padding on your stomach. You wrapped him into a tighter hug.

"I am so so sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to worry you." the boy cries into you.

You lightly rubbed his head, and hold him, just as a mother should when their child was upset. As for Atreus, since his mother had past years ago, you had stepped up into the role when you met the boy awhile after. So much had happened, and earning a son on your journey was one of the best things that could have happened to you.

So you basked in the moment as you always would, not caring about the eyes all around.

"Do not fret, Atreus. I am here, everything will be okay." You say, Atreus wipes away the few remaining tears that stained his cheeks.

Your attention turns back to the All Father and Heimdall before you.

"What are your intentions with my boy?" you ask. Odin raises his hands as if to calm your nerves.

"It is quite all right. Your boy is safe, and treated quite well amongst the other Aesir. There is nothing to worry about. But I understand a mother's right to know that her son is safe." He speaks softly to you.

Heimdall scoffs, crossing his arms. You had a hand placed on Atreus's shoulder firmly.

"I wish to take him home. He is but a boy."

"A boy who is old enough to make his own decisions, don't you think?" Odin retorts.

You look down at Atreus for a mere second before the All Father continues.

"Being as you are not his actual mother, yes?" You nod, yet Atreus leans into you as what a child would have.

"That may be so, but I take full responsibility for him. And I have worried enough don't you think?" you hummed.

This earned a laugh from the All Father, the way he chuckled wholeheartedly gave you some closure.

"Atreus is not a prisoner here. He is free to come and go as he pleases. The only reason I wish not for him to go is that we were in the middle of a session." Atreus raised, remembering that and looked to you.

"It's okay...I'll be okay, Y/N." He then looked to Odin with that same childish look in his eyes.

"Can she...stay?" Atreus says.

For a moment all there was, was silence, which drained all the hope from your eyes, and before Odin slapped the his sides, and gave another bellowing laugh.

"Why the hell not? We don't get much company anyways." Heimdall was quick to try and reason with Odin but had been turned away.

The All Father had motioned for you to follow him and Atreus, and now with Heimdall thick on your heels, this was turning out to be worse than what you had thought originally.

Now, you were making more enemies.

*********

When given your own room, you had been made aware that this had once been Thor's sons room. And you had tried to reason for another room, except the other rooms were small, unlike them to give a guest a small room. Since they were gone, there was no sense of leaving the rooms vacant. You took to respecting the wishes of your gracious host.

Night came too quick for you to grasp a hold of, as you were staring up at the ceiling above you, the way the candle flickered shadows, made you think of the flames back home at Sindri's. You wondered what the other's were up to. Hoping they were alright, and not worrying too much of your whereabouts as you were with the one you were searching for.

The sigh that escaped your lips pulled you out of bed, and out into the hall. A quick trip to the Great Hall for a drink of water would help you, at least you thought.

Your nightwear hung below your knees, hair tied into a loose braid, as it swung side to side while you walked down the hallways nd made it into the food hall.

Grasping hold of an empty cup you sloshed the cup into the water barrel and took a heavy drink, before the sound of a throat clearing had almost caused you to drop the cup in your hand.

Turning you found yourself not as alone as you thought you were. There with you was the large, burly god of thunder, himself.

Thor.

"Didn't think I would be sharing the evening with a new face." he says, taking a long drink of his mead.

You refill you water cup and walk over to sit with the god of thunder. From where you sat, adjacent from him, you were quick to notice he had been almost four times your size, but his inviting demeanor had intrigued you the most.

From others around here, they were quick to push you aside, yet with him, it was much more friendly. Unless that was the mead that was talking.

You laughed to yourself.

"What're you drinking tonight, little miss?" he asks.

"Just water."

"Ah, no fun."

"It is much into the night to be drinking as such, dear god." you stated, earning maybe your fiftieth chuckle from someone this day.

"No need for the formal shit. Thor is just fine. " And you did as such.

You stared into your cup as if it had said something to sour your mood.

"The boy...he your kid?" Thor asks, which made you look up.

"In a way, yes. I look after him, I've looked after him for quite sometime." You said, sloshing your cup once more.

"I can tell you care for him. He needs someone like you. He needs a mother. " Thor gave a small smile, which you gave in return.

"Do you..do you have children?" You asked.

"That I do. Or did." He looked away, down at the ground as if you had pulled a nerve. You reached over to place a hand on top of his. He turned back to look down at you. Whether it was rude of you to do such a thing, it seemed to ease the god, as he relaxed.

"I have one daughter." You smiled up at him. "She must be proud to have you as a father." You state.

Thor then proceeded to ask you about your children, in which your smile slowly faded away.

"I-"

"If it isn't the drunk and the mortal filth. Isn't it past your bedtime?" Oh no, you thought.

Heimdall.

Thor kept his back turned, keeping quiet. You did the same, hoping he would get the message and leave.

"Are you also deaf? My, my what are they teaching you mortals these days?" He snorts, grabbing ahold of a bit of bread and cheese from the shelf.

You bit your lip in frustration, looking down into your cup of water. You could handle the insults, but what you couldn't handle was him three times now,, was him breathing down your neck. Why would he not leave you alone?

"Have fun with drunk Aesir trash there. Father's unlucky son. Bid you the worst of nights, stupid mortal." With that he left. Which also meant you could have more peace and quiet.

Looking up at Thor you could see that same, sullen expression wafting over his face. His shoulders slumped forward. His cup empty. Reaching across you slowly unhooked the god's fingers from it, he gave you a look.

"Let me refill it for you." You said softly.

And he let you.

Returning from refilling his cup to the brim with mead, he had also returned to being silent with you beside him.

"I find this place...a little suffocating." You say, Thor jerking his head to you. It was such an out of place thought.

"How? Many find this realm, beautiful, astonishing--" You place a hand onto his wrist.

"Well I find it, suffocating, overwhelming and a bit stuck up." When you heard Thor laugh, it echoed through the entire Great Hall.

"You are something else," He paused.

"Y/N."

"That is a name, for sure." Thor compliments.

Soon after, you yawn, stretching. Time lead on well into the night, as you stood, excusing yourself. Thor had turned to you, getting up at well.

"I'd like to walk you back to your quarters, Lady Y/N." He quips.

You accept his offer, walking beside the large, burly god, out of the Great Hall. The walk had been calm, silent as you shared a few key conversations, as well as a couple of laughs. Nearing your door, Thor's composure changes immediately.

You smile up at him.

"I bid you goodnight, dear god." You give a slight bow to him, and when you raise he gives you the same small smile as before.

"Again, no need for formalities. Yet I do require more about yourself soon. " He says.

You nod, slowly closing the door.

"Goodnight, Thor, thank you." You say.

"G'night, Lady Y/N."

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

Those that want to be tagged:

@lunaryasha

#thor x reader #gow thor x reader #heimdall x reader #gow heimdall x reader #gow x reader #odin gow #Atreus gow #thor gow #heimdall gow #gowr #god of war ragnarok #god of war ragnarok x reader #gowr x reader #kratos #odin #Atreus #reader gow #gowr fanfic

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hellowhisperingstars · 11 months

Text

The Boogeyman

Summary: You’re Joseph Quinn’s girlfriend and the lead in the new Duffer Brothers horror movie. He comes to surprise you on set after months of video calls.

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x Actress/GF!Reader

Words: 1443

Warnings: RPF, Duffer level gore, Fluff, The Boogeyman

A/N: This story has nothing to do with the new movie that is coming out. This is one of two one shots that I wrote for Joe. Please let me know what you think!

You can find more of my stories on my Stranger Things Masterlist!

Or read this story on AO3!

Joe smiled as he watched you on the monitors from the directors tent as you laughed with your young co-star, Grace, who played your daughter. He was hiding from you since this was a technical scene and he didn't want you to be distracted by his presence. He had flown in yesterday, with permission from the Duffers, to the south of France so he could surprise you on set of their new horror movie.

The movie was about a young mother named Bliss who inherited an old château after the death of a great aunt she never knew. Your character was adopted by a loving family in America after her parents died and she grew up knowing nothing of her biological family. Bliss, her daughter, Hailey, and Bliss' older adopted brother Marcus all came to the south of France to clean and sell the house, not realizing the house holds a creature known only as the Boogeyman until he starts to terrorize them.

It's been a long couple of months but from the video calls you've done he can see that you've been having a blast filming. He was glad he had convinced you to audition for the role, and had even helped you film your tapes. So when your agent called on behalf of the Duffers for the main character he pushed you to take the role, after seeing how much fun he had on the set of Stranger Things you were biting for the chance to work with the brothers. He remembered when he had to calm you one night before filming had even started.

You were excited and nervous as the time for filming drew closer. "Is this a good idea babe?" You asked as you packed your bags a week before the filming began.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Joe asked, folding a shirt for you as he sat on the bed you shared in your London flat, watching you as you paced from the closet to the bed with a few more shirts.

"It's just I'll be gone for months. You'll be all alone here and I'm going to miss you." You said with a pout as you dropped the clothes on the bed when he pulled you between his legs with his hands on your waist giving you a gentle shake.

"I know love. I'll miss you too, but this is a big opportunity for you and I would hate for you to pass on this and regret it later in your career." Joe smiled up at you, his chin on your stomach. "Besides it's not like we'll never see each other, we'll FaceTime just like we did when I was in Atlanta."

"That's true. We'll be okay. Won't we?"

"We'll be okay." Joe said with a nod. Letting your waist go he reached up, placing a hand on the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss. "Everything will be fine my love."

And he was right. You had made so many great friends and memories on this set, calling Joe every night when you got in bed to tell him all about it. The Duffers didn't disappoint with this film and you were even more excited for when the world got to see it.

"Joe! You made it!" Matt Duffer said as he walked into the tent clapping Joe on the shoulder while they shook hands.

"I did! How've you been, mate?"

"Just great! Your girl is a dream to work with! Thank you for convincing her to do this!"

"I knew she'd be perfect for it!" Joe smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest as pride swelled in him as he turned back to look at you on the monitors. Even when you were covered in fake blood and bruises you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Alright," Matt said as he took his seat and put on his headphones, grabbing the microphone and getting ready for filming to start. "Can we clear the set please? Everyone to their places."

Joe sat in the available chair as he watched you jog down the opulent hallway away from the little girl and grabbed the prop gas can that sat on the floor. It was a large pyrotechnic scene so everything had to be perfect. Giving a thumbs up to the camera you smiled as you got into character.

"Cameras rolling and action!"

Bliss moved quickly as she poured the gas from the can down the hallway towards her daughter, tossing it to the side when it was empty and ran to the little girl grabbing her in her arms and pulling her up so she sat in her left hip while she shoved her hand into her right pocket to grab the zippo lighter.

"Mommy!" Hailey screamed pointing down the hallway as the Boogeyman appeared where Bliss had just been.

"He can't hurt you." Her mother said as she flicked the lighter open expertly on her thigh watching as the flame burst to life. Holding it out in front of her she breathed heavily as she glared at the monster in front of her.

The inhuman wail that sounded from the beast made her flinch as she gripped the lighter tightly.

"What do we say to the Boogeyman baby?"

"I'm not afraid of you!" Hailey yelled as her mother dropped the zippo, turning away clutching the girl for dear life and running out of the house as the gas caught flame and the hallway went up in an inferno.

The Boogeyman wailed again rushing down the hallway towards them as it caught fire.

"Cut! That was perfect!" Matt yelled as he watched the stuntman in the Boogeyman costume be put out with fire extinguishers by his fellow stuntmen. Getting the thumbs up he was waiting for, confirming the stuntman was okay he looked over at the others in the tent. "Check the gate."

They waited a few more minutes before it was declared a successful shot and the day was called a wrap.

Joe clapped with everyone else as he watched you high fived Grace, gave her a hug, and a wave as she walked away with her mother for a good night's rest. Grabbing the water bottle you usually use he said a quick goodbye to Matt and made his way towards you as you searched for the wayward bottle by your chair. He convinced your assistant to give it to him before filming that last shot so he could surprise you.

"Where the hell did it go?" You muttered as you searched your chair and bag for it. You just wanted to get to the apartment you were renting and shower before you called Joe.

"Looking for something, my love?" He asked as he got close enough to you holding it up for you to see when you looked at him.

"My water bottle.." You said still searching your bag for a moment before his voice registered. Your head snapped up looking at him with wide eyes as you let out a shocked gasp. "Joey!!"

He quickly placed your bottle on your chair and grabbed your waist with a laugh as you launched yourself at him. Hugging you to him tightly as he felt you start to cry. "Shh, it's okay love. Why are you crying?"

Holding on to him like a koala you buried your makeup caked face into the side of his neck as you cried. "I'm ju-just s-so happy to s-see you."

"I've missed you," Joe said, kissing the crown of your head.

"I've missed you so much." You said pulling back so you could look him in the eye. Wiping under your eyes you blinked at the makeup on your hands. "Oh shit I'm all gross and I got you all gross. This fake blood will ruin your shirt."

"I'll buy a new shirt, love." He smiled, running a hand up and down your spine. Bending down a bit he brought his lips to yours giving you the first kiss you've shared in months. Breaking away he moved his hands to cup your face and rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks. "What do you say to a hot shower and some dinner?"

"Yes, please." You nod as you move away to grab your bag and the no longer missing water bottle before you grab his hand leading him towards the hair and makeup trailer to remove the wig you had on. "I'm starving. Oh! I can't wait for you to see the apartment!"

"I can't wait to get you into that bed." He laughed following you with a squeeze to your hand.

"Oh my god!"

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn #chocolate button eyes

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