#crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐒𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

bonus chapter in the “Crucible of Desire” universe, but this can be read as a standalone

wordcount: 4.1k words

summary: After a villager covered in mysterious pollen comes to you to patch up his wounds, a weird feeling begins to swell in your body. Good thing the Lord watching you is more than happy to help.

warnings: smut, sex pollen, pwp, possessiveness, established relationship

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Today is painfully mundane. In the past, you’d label the day as normal, but with the sudden excitement you’ve got yourself wrapped up in you couldn’t help but sigh as you looked out the window. A pensive act when nothing substantial was knocking around in your brain. Well, that’s not completely true. The image of a certain quick-tongued silver-haired Lord was plaguing your thoughts. Quick-tongued described more than just his wit. The memory of that tongue pleasurably lashing your most intimate parts makes you shiver.

Damn him for making your libido positively insatiable. Shaking your head, you move to your medicine-laden counter to busy yourself with the mindless task of making salves and cures. You’ve done this so many times you could practically do it in your sleep. Maybe Elena could come over and-

A loud boom sounds as the door to your home almost splinters with how hard it is slammed open. Startled you see Luiza’s husband carrying Sebastian in his arms. Snapping out of your previous stupor, you quickly come to your wits.

“Lay him on the table quickly.” Vasile sets the injured man on your makeshift examination table without any preamble. Sebastion gurgles out a groan, clearly in a very groggy state. Mud and blood are caked all over the man’s body, as well as a dusting of a yellow powder you don’t recognize.

“What the hell happened?”

Your eyes search Vasile’s, but they seem just as confused as yours. “Wish I knew. I was visiting the altar when I saw him stumble out of the gates that head southeast. Took him here as fast as I could.”

Realization dawns on you after only a second. That’s the path to Lady Donna Beneviento’s home. Despite being more than curious about the foliage that grows in those parts you had common sense. You’ve heard countless stories of men and women alike wandering inside and descending into madness. It’s said the plants in that area emit pollen that clings to the senses and messes with the mind and body of the person who inhales it. The very few who have survived the powerful hallucinations claimed to have experienced what they desired and seen what was most important to them.

Blanching you observe the yellow pollen covering Sebastian’s clothes. That’s the last thing you wanted to confirm firsthand. “I need help undressing him.” When Vasile simply blinks at you like a child being confronted by one of the black goats you snap your fingers, “Quickly!”

-

After what must have been an hour you managed to throw Sebastian’s contaminated outer clothes in a cloth sack and treat the light scratches littering his body. A thin sheen of sweat has accumulated on your skin even though you usually don’t get this winded after such minimal activity. You’ve traversed the woods for longer without as much as a sigh for Lord’s sake.

Vasile grunts as he picks up the younger man again. “I’ll take him back to the house. Is he going to stay in good health?”

“I think you found him just in time. I’ll take care of his clothes; just make sure Sebastian drinks this once he wakes up.” You present a glass vile filled with a dark antibiotic liquid before dropping it into Vasile’s coat pocket. “Since he’s knocked out that must mean he’s already gotten through the worst of it.”

The older man nods, “Thank you. I’ll have Luiza come after sunrise to drop off the lei.” When he reaches the door that’s still open, he pauses and looks back at you. “May you have a blessed night.”

Following him to the entrance you give Vasile a thin-lipped smile, “May you have a blessed night as well, sir.” You rest your head against the cold wooden door after you’re finally able to close it. Despite the raging winter outside your body feels unbearably warm.

“You’re just tired,” you try to convince yourself aloud, “Clean everything off, get some rest, and by the morning you’ll be fine.”

When you walk toward the wooden examination table, a sudden dizzy spell makes you fall against it. A tacky waxiness coats your hands when you grab at the surface. You curse when you look down at the substance. The yellow pollen is, has been, all over you, soaking into your skin and probably already making its way through your bloodstream.

In a mild panic, you rush to turn on the lone shower head in the corner of the room. It was used for emergency purposes only, but now seemed a more appropriate time than ever. Frigid water spills over you as you scratch at your skin and rub at the clothes still encasing your body. Despite your efforts, you only seemed to be getting a more intense prickling sensation all across your body; only further igniting the flaming heat that was also plaguing you.

You turn off the water and stumble toward the kitchen countertop. Your fingers bite into the wood as you look over every possible cure laid in front of you to alleviate your feverish state, only to come up with nothing.

“Shit!”

The outburst suddenly gives way to a whimper when the warm throbbing inside you travels lower. To your horror, wetness follows the newfound ache in your groin. An aliment with symptoms including overwhelming warmth, dizziness, wetness, and a sudden desire was not anything you were aware of. When another wave of warmth hits your pussy, you would have crumpled to the floor if not for your grip on the counter.

What was going on?

“Hallucinogenic plants are one hell of a drug, aren’t they?” Your nerves are so shot you don’t even flinch at the husky voice that comes from behind you. The haze circling your brain makes you wonder if the voice was even real. That is all but disproved when a heavyweight settles on your hip at the same time something hard presses against your back.

“Fuck doll… you’re on fire.” The words are mumbled into your ear, the whisp of air coming from it making you shiver. A cloud of smoke wafts from the mouth stationed by your ear and fills your senses. Almost out of nowhere you’re acutely aware of Heisenberg.

He smells of copper and a natural musk that doesn’t deter your senses but draws you in. It’s all accented by a foreign spice that comes from his favorite Cuban cigars. Heisenberg screams of something primal and dangerous, yet oddly comforting. He makes your blood sing and your stomach knot. Unlike the light butterfly sensation that he’s given you in the past, this was far more intense and carnal to the point it almost scares you.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

The sound that comes out of your mouth is barely recognizable as your own. Your voice is as thick as molasses, but also as sweet. So much so that you can not only hear, but feel the satisfied rumble coming from Heisenberg’s chest.

“I think you know, my little healer. The pollen has taken hold of you…” His sentence cuts off as he kisses your temple, the hand on your hip squeezing reflexively. You lean into his touch with a moan when he starts to trail down your neck. “… not enough to harm that pretty brain of yours, but enough to expose your desire.”

Heisenberg’s hand moves slightly down to play with the band of your skirt, “Do you desire me? Do you desire my cock?”

Your body instinctively responds, all the nerves under your skin practically screaming for Heisenberg. The thoughts you had earlier today have come back with a vengeance. By now you’re dripping with not only sweat and the cold water from the shower, but slick. You can’t control the reactions you’re having, but since when have you been able to when it comes to this man?

“Heisenberg, please…”

In an act of mercy, Heisenberg slips his hand under your panties. Thick fingers slide through your soaked folds and when he bumps against your throbbing clit you can’t help but let out a choked whine. Immediately he shushes you while continuing to stroke you slowly.

“Don’t strain yourself telling me, doll. Your pussy says all I need to know.” Without any additional torment, Heisenberg sinks a single finger inside of you. With your joint sigh, you don’t know who’s getting more pleasure from this. You’re warm, slippery wet, and the inner walls of your pussy are even more plush than usual, practically swallowing his digit.

“I need-“ Once again Heisenberg knows what your body wants without needing another word. When a second finger joins the first an obscene squelching noise makes your face burn hotter than before. The leather encompassing his fingers makes them double their usual thickness and only adds to the depth of your depravity.

Heisenberg’s fingers curl as they move at a steady pace, overwhelming with pleasure, but still not giving you enough. Your voice quickly disappears and dissolves into needy whines.

“Quit your whining, little healer. I’ve got you.” Heisenberg coos his words as he brings his other hand down to rub your clit. The pleasure it pulls from you is immediate. It never ceases to amaze you how deft each little movement he makes is. The tips of his finger stroke your g-spot as the pad of his other fingers drags your clit with just enough friction to make you forget how to breathe.

Despite how wound up you are it is shocking how quickly you reach your climax. You hold the countertop in a death grip as you come around Heisenberg’s fingers. He helps you ride through your high, slowing down his movements until your body finally relaxes. The velvet walls of your pussy flutter around him so deliciously that all he can think about is what it will feel like when he’s actually inside you. Surprisingly enough, you already are too.

Although you just came, it’s not enough. The lust-fueled fever taking over your body doesn’t even remotely dim. When Heisenberg pulls his hands away, you whip around only to be left stunned. The sight of him sucking the taste of you off his fingers sends your already impossibly increased libido into overdrive. You don’t just want more of him, no, you need more. Your legs shake as you step forward until your bodies are only inches apart. Bold hands meet the large bulge straining the front of Heisenberg’s pants.

He’s had yet to experience the pleasure of your plush lips wrapping around his cock. Even though he wants nothing more, Heisenberg is not a complete bastard and tries to stop you from unbuckling his pants.

“Are you sure you want this? Once we start, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You continue to tug at his belt, determined to feel what your body craves. All you want every waking moment of every day is Heisenberg. For once in your life, you have something to look forward to, something to work toward. He could tear you to shreds and you would thank him for it. Not that you would ever say that in so many words.

“She makes you want things that you truly desire right? You’re what I want.”

You fall to your knees rather ungracefully before fumbling with his belt once again. Adrenaline and searing arousal that scorches to the point of pain makes you less coordinated than usual. After another minute of failing to take off the treacherous accessory, large hands push yours aside to take its place.

When Heisenberg pushes his pants down to the middle of his thigh, cock springing free to bob under the weight of its large size, you make no haste in taking him. Right when you encircle the shaft of his cock, Heisenberg’s leather glad index finger tips your chin up so you can meet his gaze.

“What happened to never kneeling for anyone?”

“You’re not just anyone.”

You could have sworn that you saw his eyes flash yellow for a second. If you tried to ask him about it though he would say the hallucinogenic was messing with your brain. In reality, he was quickly losing the war in his head battling between control and ripping you apart.

Worst of all, you mean it. To your chagrin, Heisenberg isn’t remotely like all the others you’ve grown up around. He’s sarcastic, bullheaded, and short-tempered, but the personification of a rainbow after a devastating storm. He can be callous and cold, but by the end, he turns into something sweet that you’re elated to behold.

Thankfully, the boiling pot of arousal you’re sitting in is keeping your sensitive emotions at bay. Carnality now, sensibility later.

Heisenberg braces himself on the examination table as you give a tentative kiss to the head of his cock. The way you kiss him with such tenderness despite your feverish state makes the man groan and already tighten his grip on the wood. If only you knew how you were the one tearing him apart.

Encouraged by his reaction you take the tip in your mouth. Your tongue instinctively swirls around the leaking slit, savoring the salty and heady flavor of his arousal. Heisenberg’s cock is already rock hard and pulsing for relief. If you didn’t know better you would think the pollen was affecting him too.

With slight trepidation, you take more of his cock. Your lips stretch thin around his thickness causing a hint of pain. A factor that only works to spur him on more. Heisenberg begins to stroke the remaining area of his cock left untouched by your lips.

“Good fucking girl…” One of his large hands comes to rest at the back of your head, not to force but to guide your movements. You reflexively swallow around his cock when he hits the back of your throat. The large intrusion in your mouth makes you gag, but Heisenberg groans in approval, “… you take my cock so well.”

Curses push past clenched teeth as you suck harder. You close your eyes to savor the feeling of being completely at his mercy. Heisenberg seems to override the pollen controlling your body and all you could feel, smell, and taste was him. The amalgamation of sensations was almost overwhelming. Each strangled moan around him only thins Heisenberg’s control more. The constricting of your wet, warm throat almost makes him become undone.

You gasp when Heisenberg pulls you back by your hair. A string of saliva connects your swollen lips and the tip of his cock until he smears the mix of your spit and his precum on your mouth. “I want to be in your sweet pussy when I cum.” You shiver as he helps you to your feet, his canines glinting at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“Take your clothes off now if you don’t want them torn apart.” Wanting to obey and to free yourself from the extra warmth you don’t hesitate in throwing off your skirt, top, and undergarments.

At the same time, the Lord pulls off the endless layers of clothes and accessories adorning his body in record time. They clattered to the floor with such force that something might have broken, but with how Heisenberg is stalking toward you, he didn’t give a single care in the world for anything but you right now.

“B-bed.” You manage to gasp once you’re undressed, the small coherent part of you wanting to be taken somewhere more proper for once.

“Your wish is my command.” Heisenberg teases before lifting you by your hips. He carries the brunt of your weight as your limbs loosely wrap around him like a monkey on a tree. He grunts when you squirm making your wetness coat his cock.

“Careful now. Keep testing my patience and I’ll fuck you standing right here.”

To emphasize his point, he thrusts his hips so his cock slides between the sensitive folds of your pussy. The sensation makes you bury your face in his neck and whimper. Heisenberg chuckles at your reactions to him. Who would have thought that Donna Beneviento would ever end up doing him a favor?

When Heisenberg gently lays you on your cold sheets you moan at the small moment of relief on your hot skin. You don’t even question how he knew where your room was, let alone how he knew to come and see you.

The pollen made your vision slightly blur, causing a haze of confusion to meddle your brain. It feels as though you are dreaming, but instead of your reoccurring nightmare, it’s all that you’ve ever fantasized about. Especially when his eyes held a softness that had to be from a trick of the light.

Fantasy merges with reality until you don’t feel real, like every atom in your body is breaking apart and flying away, but when his lips touch yours it’s like life is breathed back into you. Heisenberg is metal and sulfur and something so tangible with an underlying whimsy. He’s whimsical in the way he growls at you like a wolf but worships you like a princess.

As if he can hear your thoughts, the bed dips as he pulls away from your lips so his wide shoulders can part your pliant legs. Green eyes swirling with flecks of gold pierce you, practically challenging you to look away, “I’m going to take real good care of you sweetheart.”

Heisenberg’s scruff scratches you deviously as he kisses down your thigh. He whispers salacious compliments across your skin between each teasing peck. When he reaches where you want him the most you moan in anticipation. Hot breath fans across your wet core, “Beautiful.”

Heisenberg wastes no time as he licks up your pussy before latching onto your clit. Your hands desperately grip the sheets on the bed. As much as you want to throw your head back, you are hypnotized by the man between your legs.

Each swirl and stroke of his tongue makes you gasp for breath. Just when you think the pleasure couldn’t bring you more rapture a thick finger slides into your quivering entrance.

Heisenberg groans against you, “You are so tight and needy for me.” Like a starved man, he licks and sucks you with a new ferocity. A second finger joins the first and they curl inside of you in a way that makes you forget your name. Sensations blend until all you feel is pure bliss.

“I’m so close! I can’t-“ Your hands relinquish their grip on the sheets only to thread through silver strands of hair. The overwhelming sensation of reaching your peak makes you want to push him away, but your hands pull him closer.

Heisenberg’s pace only quickens. “Don’t hold back. Let me feel you come.” He pleads as though the act of you coming undone was more pleasurable for him. After a few more deep thrusts of his fingers, you cry out his name in pure rapture. Each wave of release is stronger than the last. You try to slam your thighs shut, but two large hands keep you at Heisenberg’s mercy.

His tongue continues to assault your sensitive nerves until overstimulation makes you quiver and beg. With one final kiss to your core, he towers over you on the bed. Your pussy clenches around nothing as the emptiness starts to feel unbearable.

“I need you, Heisenberg.” Grabbing your face, he rubs his thumbs across your cheek.

“You want me inside that tight pussy?”

You were a little too eager to nod your head. “More than anything.” A possessive growl leaves Heisenberg. When he captures your lips again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. He’s primal in his need to feel you with unwavering loyalty.

Hands caress your body like its fine silk. Pulling away from your lips Heisenberg maneuvers your legs around his hips. You can’t help but squirm under his intense gaze. The feeling of his cock sliding against the wet slit of your pussy makes you grab at his knees. You felt like you would explode if he wasn’t inside you for even one more second.

“Please fuck me.” Heisenberg pins you in place by your hips. He slowly lets the head of his cock enter you. Leaning down he swallows the whine that leaves your throat. Heisenberg’s lips are rough and unrelenting. It was like he could heal all your hurt through one kiss.

“All of this for me?” His voice comes out even lower; the huskiness that is usually there sounds more feral and dominating. It felt like you were going to have a heart attack with how much his comments were affecting you. Heisenberg’s hands crawl up your waist, “So fucking perfect.”

At the same time as his words, he thrust into you, pushing his cock fully inside you. You both moan at the sensation of being connected. The usual stretch of his cock doesn’t discomfort you but soothes your ache.

Immediately he begins to thrust into you deep and fast. High-pitched moans are all you can muster. “You’re mine. All fucking mine.” His words come out through clenched teeth. Even though his mind is scrambling while thrusting into your pussy he has to make his point.

Fingers dig into your soft skin. “I want to hear you say it.” You almost can’t hear him when his cock pushes against your g-spot.

“W-What?”

One of his hands moves to rest loosely on the base of your throat. “Say that you’re mine, doll. Come on.”

Heat creeps across your face as you try to steady your thoughts. “I-I’m yours.” Heisenberg’s fingers press into your throat slightly.

“You can do better than that.”

“The only thing I want is you! I’m yours!” Your words come out through heavy pants. The pollen, the thrust of his cock, his possessiveness, it’s all too much.

Satisfied with your words he brings his thumb down to circle your clit. The added stimulation makes you cry out Heisenberg’s name. Leaning down he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, fucking you faster at the same time. His praises continue to make your skin tingle. The feeling of being wanted so fully turns you on to no end.

“Now was that so hard?” Spots start to spread across your vision as you near your third orgasm.

Heisenberg can feel how close you are when your pussy wraps around him like a vice. “Come on little healer, I know you want to come just as much as I do.” Sweat-slick bodies rut together as you work toward each other’s climax. The heat you’ve been struggling with pools in your core to give way to a sudden rush of release.

You wrap your arms around Heisenberg, digging your nails into his shoulders at the sheer force of your orgasm. His hips stutter when he finds his own release. Strings of curses and low groans fan across your ear when he makes one final thrust, filling you. Heisenberg continues to pump inside of you despite the overstimulation. He pulls out only when you begin to feebly push at his shoulders. You are the closest thing to heaven to him, divine in all aspects of the word. You’re truly too perfect and kindhearted to be with a corrupted, mutated man like him.

With a huff, Heisenberg lays down next to you on the bed. You immediately attach yourself to his side. Reaching up you kiss the throbbing pulse point on his neck. This was an intimate moment for you both, one that showcased more than just two lovers helping each other through their lust. It’s always more when it comes to him.

A wave of exhaustion has you sinking your front into Heisenberg’s chest. The steady beat of his heart almost instantly lulls you to sleep. You barely comprehend a hand pushing the wet strands of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You can only imagine how much of a mess you looked. On the other hand, Heisenberg would have this image of you seared into his brain for the rest of his Miranda-forsaken life. His little healer, sated and blissful all because of him stirs an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

The feeling only intensifies when you yawn against him. “Don’t leave.” You mumble sleepily, wrapping your arm around his waist, “I sleep better with you.” His hairy chest acts as a pillow as you continue to nuzzle into him. Heisenberg always feels so real, so right.

The moment your heavy eyelids fall shut, a deep voice whispers your name, “So do I.”

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#karl heisenberg imagines #Karl Heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist #karl heisenberg x reader

[ukiyowi]

Channelled Messages II 💌

Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse's guides, your shadow self, your parents.

Note: Have fun!! And please reblog and send feedback (if you want) it helps a ton, have a lovely day everyone. Reblogging and paid readings help a lot! Pls DM me if you want one!

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Future Spouse's Guides

Your Shadow Self

Your Parents

- ✪✪✪ -

💌 Pile 1

My Dearest,

As the spirit guide of your future spouse, I am honored to offer you guidance and wisdom that transcends the boundaries of time and space. Though my role is to support your beloved from the spiritual realm, I am deeply invested in your happiness and well-being, for your future union is a testament to the profound love and connection you share. In this letter, I aim to provide you with advice that is both general yet specific, touching upon various aspects of life, not solely confined to matters of love.

First and foremost, let us discuss the significance of self-discovery. Throughout your life's journey, you will encounter a myriad of experiences, challenges, and joys. It is crucial to embrace these moments as opportunities for growth and self-understanding. As you become more attuned to your own needs, desires, and values, you will naturally radiate a sense of authenticity and confidence that will enrich your relationship.

Never forget the importance of compromise. In every relationship, there will be differences in opinions, preferences, and priorities. Approach these disagreements with a willingness to find common ground, and remember that sometimes, the act of yielding can be a powerful testament to your love.

Remember to nurture the small moments of joy and spontaneity. Life often unfolds in the ordinary, and it is within these seemingly simple moments that the deepest connections are forged. Cherish the laughter, the shared meals, and the quiet evenings together.

The universe is conspiring to bring you together with your beloved, and your spirit guides, myself included, watch over you with love and care. Embrace the lessons and blessings that come your way, and may your love story be a timeless testament to the power of love.

They are waiting for you, your souls are meant to meld and they will very soon, till then please take care of yourself <3.

With love 🩵

💌 Pile 2

Hello love,

Beginning with, let me assure you that your path is illuminated by the radiant light of potential and destiny. The future holds both challenges and triumphs, and it is essential to approach them with an open heart and a resilient spirit. Remember, life is a beautiful tapestry woven from both joy and sorrow, and every thread contributes to your unique and intricate story.

One of the most important pieces of advice I can offer is to embrace the ever-changing nature of existence. Life is a series of cycles, and like the seasons, it brings moments of both abundance and scarcity. In times of abundance, cherish the blessings bestowed upon you, but do not become complacent. Use your good fortune to uplift others and to grow as an individual. And in times of scarcity, hold steadfast to your inner strength, for they are the crucibles in which your character is forged.

In the pursuit of your dreams and aspirations, I urge you to cultivate patience and perseverance. Life's most significant accomplishments often require time and effort. Do not be discouraged by setbacks, for they are the stepping stones to your ultimate success. Your journey may be arduous at times, but your future spouse's spirit guide assures you that every challenge you face is an opportunity for growth. As you journey through life, you will encounter love in its many forms.

Some loves will be fleeting, like shooting stars in the night sky, while others will be enduring and steadfast like the North Star. It is important to discern between the two, for not all who enter your life are meant to stay, and not all who depart are lost.

Your relationship with yourself is the foundation upon which all other connections are built. Treat yourself with kindness and compassion, and remember that self-love is not a selfish act, but a necessary one. When you love and respect yourself, you radiate positivity, attracting love and respect from others.

Waiting for you~

💌 Pile 3

Hi sweetheart!

In the years to come, you will encounter crossroads and diverging paths. The choices you make at these junctures will shape your professional destiny. Remember, dear one, that it is not always about the most lucrative or prestigious option, but rather the one that aligns with your passions and values. Seek out work that resonates with your soul, for a fulfilling career is one that brings joy and a sense of purpose.

Let me reassure you that the path you're on is destined for greatness. While life can be a rollercoaster, remember that even the steepest drops can lead to thrilling highs. So, don't be afraid to embrace the twists and turns that come your way. They're all part of the grand adventure. Now, let's talk about your career.

Picture it like a delicious buffet (and who doesn't love a good buffet, right?). You've got a wide array of options laid out before you. Some might look tempting, while others might leave you scratching your head. My advice? Try a bit of everything! Just like at the buffet, you won't know what your absolute favorite is until you've sampled a little bit of everything.

Don't feel pressured to settle for the first dish that comes your way. Explore different career opportunities, experiment with various roles, and indulge in your passions. If you're passionate about something, even if it seems unconventional, go for it

Remember, your future is a canvas, and your career is the vibrant palette you use to paint your masterpiece. Oh, and remember to strike a balance between work and play. Life isn't all about the hustle and grind.

Take time to savor the sweet moments, laugh with friends, and cherish the love of your future spouse. They'll be your biggest cheerleader on this journey, and together, you'll conquer any challenge that comes your way.

Take care love!

- ✪✪✪ -

💌 Pile 1

I see you often doubting your abilities and second-guessing your decisions. When you're faced with challenges or new opportunities, you tend to retreat into your comfort zone to avoid the discomfort of failure or rejection.

My advice to you is this: Embrace the discomfort. Step outside of your comfort zone intentionally, even when it scares you. It's in those moments of vulnerability that you can truly learn and grow. Remember, making mistakes is not a sign of weakness; it's a sign of courage and the path to improvement.

When faced with challenges, don't shy away. Confront them head-on, for it is through adversity that you discover your true strength. Embrace your flaws and imperfections, for they are what make you uniquely you. They hold the seeds of your growth and evolution.

Do not suppress your emotions; they are your compass. Feel them deeply, both the joy and the pain. They offer valuable insights into your desires, fears, and aspirations. Learn from them and allow them to guide your decisions.

Embrace your darkness, for it holds the potential for profound transformation. It is not something to be feared, but a wellspring of untapped creativity and power.

Remember, you are a mosaic of light and shadow, embrace both.

💌 Pile 2

When you hear that inner voice saying, "I can't do it" or "I'm not good enough," that's me. My advice is to confront those thoughts head-on.

First and foremost, remember that your thoughts are not necessarily facts. They are products of your perception and past experiences. Start by analyzing the evidence for and against these self-doubts. Ask yourself, "What proof do I have that I can't do it?" You might be surprised to find that many of your fears are based on assumptions rather than concrete evidence.

Furthermore, consider reframing your self-talk. Instead of saying, "I can't," try saying, "I can, but it might be challenging," or "I can, with effort and practice." This shift in perspective can empower you to approach tasks with a growth mindset, recognizing that even failures and setbacks are opportunities for learning and improvement.

Embrace challenges as opportunities to prove me wrong. Remember that growth often occurs outside your comfort zone. Taking calculated risks, setting ambitious goals, and pushing your boundaries are all ways to demonstrate your capabilities. Each small victory, each obstacle overcome, is a testament to your potential.

Seeking support and encouragement from others is not wrong or bad. Share your aspirations and fears with trusted friends, mentors, or therapists. They can provide valuable perspectives, guidance, and motivation during your journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

Analyse your doubts, reframe your self-talk, embrace challenges, and seek support. By doing so, you can prove your shadow self wrong and unlock your full potential.

💌 Pile 3

When haunting memories of past mistakes and regrets resurface, don't let them consume you. Rather than dwelling on the pain of the past, reflect on what each experience has taught you. Every misstep and error holds within its valuable lessons. Reflect on what you've learned from these experiences, for they have shaped you into the person you are today.

Forgiveness, both of yourself and others, can be liberating. It allows you to release the emotional burdens that may be holding you back and opens the door to personal growth and healing.

Finally, those impulses and desires that occasionally surge within you are not to be ignored or suppressed. Instead, explore their origins and motivations. Sometimes, these desires reveal untapped passions and dreams that are yearning for your attention. By embracing and understanding them, you can find ways to channel them positively, enriching your life in unexpected ways.

I am here to challenge you to become a more authentic and whole version of yourself. They are not reckless impulses but signposts pointing to unfulfilled potential.

By acknowledging and channeling these desires constructively, you can embark on a transformative journey toward a more fulfilling and authentic life.

- ✪✪✪ -

💌 Pile 1

You've been positively shining lately, and we couldn't be prouder.

It's like watching a shooting star streak across the sky – you're constantly surprising us with your brilliance and leaving us in awe. From acing your exams to that recent project you tackled with gusto, you're proving to the world that you're a force to be reckoned with.

But you know what we love even more than your accomplishments? It's your zest for life and the twinkle in your eye as you chase your dreams. Remember, life is not just about reaching destinations; it's about enjoying every twist and turn of the journey.

So, keep reaching for the stars, our little superstar! We have no doubt that you'll continue to amaze us and everyone around you. Just promise us one thing – never lose that playful spirit and infectious enthusiasm that makes you who you are.

We love you more than words can express, and we can't wait to see where your next adventure takes you. Congratulations, and keep on. You're not just making us proud; you're making the whole family proud!

💌 Pile 2

We hope this letter finds you well and wrapped in the warmth of our love, even if from afar. There are words we've been carrying in our hearts, words that need to find their way to you.

We want to tell you how very sorry we are for any moments of pain, frustration, or disappointment we may have caused you in the course of your life. As parents, we've made mistakes, stumbled along the way, and at times, failed to truly understand your perspective.

We want you to know that our love for you is immeasurable, and it is in the shadow of that love that we can identify and acknowledge our shortcomings. We recognize that there were moments when we should have listened more, when we should have supported your dreams more enthusiastically, and when we should have been a more constant presence in your life.

Please understand that our actions were never intended to cause you harm. We were navigating the complexities of parenthood the best we knew how, often learning as we went along. Sometimes, our fears and insecurities clouded our judgment, and for that, we are deeply sorry.

Our love for you, though, has always been unwavering, a beacon of hope and pride. Watching you grow, accomplish, and become the remarkable person you are today fills us with indescribable joy. Your kindness, intelligence, and strength are a testament to your character, and we couldn't be prouder.

We hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us for any past missteps. Our wish is that we can move forward with a renewed sense of understanding, compassion, and love between us.

We're here to support you in all your endeavors, to listen when you need an ear, and to be the parents you truly deserve. With a love that will never die,

🩷

💌 Pile 3

You are a cherished part of our lives, and nothing will ever change that. We wanted to share some feelings with you because we believe in open and honest communication. Recently, there have been moments when we felt a slight sense of disappointment in some of your choices and actions.

Please understand that this disappointment does not diminish our love for you, nor does it define our overall view of you as a person. We apologize for feeling this way, as we recognize that no one is perfect, and everyone makes mistakes. Our expectations might have been too high, and we realize that it's important for us to accept you as you are, with your unique strengths and flaws.

Our intention in sharing this is not to make you feel guilty or burdened but to foster understanding and growth within our family. We believe that through open conversations and support, we can work through these feelings together. We hope that you can forgive us for any undue pressure we may have unintentionally placed on you.

Remember, our love for you is boundless and unconditional, and we are here to help and support you as you navigate life's challenges. Let's move forward together, learning from our experiences, and growing as individuals and as a family.

- ✪✪✪ -

#pick a card reading #pac #daily tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot #intuitive #intuition #intuitive readings #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot witch #tarot deck #psychic

[morallyinept]

Back Alley Bang! - A Dieter Bravo One Shot

Summary: Down a dirty back alley, sleazy Dieter Bravo coaxes you into some lewdness. But, do you really need coaxing?

Pairing: Sleazy!Dieter x MenaceF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader wears a dress and has hair that can be pulled. Otherwise, reader is a blank slate.)

Word Count: 6k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral M & F receiving/spitting/mild voyeurism/dirty talk - A LOT of dirty, filthy talk - Dieter calls you a slut & whore which you love/verbal degredation/very mild ass eating, just a slurp/sleazy/lewdness/come eating/mild drug use/Dieter lives up wholly to the trash rep & he is not a famous actor in this story. Reader is incorrigible and wants it all.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: I blame the recent outtakes of Pedro's Esquire shoot for this. Probably the filthiest thing I've written so far... 🫠

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

In the pulsating nightclub, bodies sway in the oppressive furnace as the bass reverberates through the crowded space.

Coloured lights flash sporadically, casting erratic shimmers of neon lights in the glassy eyes of the feverish dancers around you.

The packed dance floor is a writhing mass of heat; bodies moving in sweaty unison lost to the rhythms of the slick night. The heat is palpable on your skin, a relentless force that wraps around you like a ruthless, suffocating hold.

It's as if the very air is saturated with fervour, clinging to you like a hot, heavy mist. You feel it in the back of your throat, under your eyelids.

The flimsy dress you’re wearing clings to your frame; a barely there silken slip of oil, black and saturated with your perspiration as it sticks around the swell of your nipples. The dance floor becomes a crucible, each striking beat intensifying the atmosphere until it's as stifling as a steam-filled alley after a torrential rain.

Amidst the chaotic tempo, eyelashes damp with exertion and your mascara creasing no doubt, you lock eyes with a persistent figure at the crowded bar.

His gaze is predatory, a calculated intensity that tops the disorienting haze around you. You’ve noted him watching you from various positions in the club.

As you lock eyes with him at the crowded bar, a magnetic pull ensnares you like a chafed noose around the throat. His gaze, penetrating through the vapour, stirs a primal response within the pits of your belly.

A tingling sensation ripples across your skin, heightened by the throbbing ache settling between your legs. It's a visceral reaction, a silent acknowledgment that something beyond the ordinary is unfolding in the dimly lit confines.

Your breath catches in anticipation; the air thickening with a heady cocktail of desire and apprehension. The chaotic energy of the nightclub momentarily gives way to a singular focus on the mysterious figure.

Despite his seemingly dishevelled appearance, there's an inexplicable allure that transcends the rough surface. The stranger's grimy exterior only fuels the flames of attraction, a paradoxical magnetism that bends societal norms until they crumble. A scummy diamond in the chintzy rough.

You hazard a guess at his age, mentally placing him around his early to mid-forties; the salt and peppered scruff around his jaw is lined with the scuzz of a moustache that taints his top lip. His hair is an unruly affray of dark chocolate curls, spiked in their fluff and streaked with grey when the strobes hit it.

His shoulders, hunched over the bar, seem far too broad to fit into the leather that sculpts around them and his biceps. His hand engulfs the glass tumbler, making it appear comically small, as though he could crush it with a simple squeeze of those thick fingers, some with silver bands woven around them.

You swallow dryly, feeling your trachea pulse at the thought of those hands crushing you.

You get a brazen flash of an earring, possibly a hoop, in his left lobe; a gold twinkle at you as he turns his head, cocking it, to observe you.

Watching you watching him.

His gaze is akin to a solitary predator surveying its prey from the shadows - unseen, but undeniably present. A lurking panther in the urban wilderness, patiently observing the dance of gazelles amidst the chaos of the nightclub.

His dark eyes, gleaming with a primal hunger, follow your every sway; an intense focus that obliterates the mere act of watching, and enters the realm of silent pursuit. It's a chary stance, like a sentry in militant vigilance and absorbing every nuance of your dancing amidst the nightclub's frenetic energy.

You feel his eyes all over you, in every sweaty nook and cranny of your flesh.

You like it, the way he circles you from the outer orbits; the way you sway and dip your hips deliberately lower, giving him a show. Bending purposefully this way or that, a flash of inner thigh, the trench of your cleavage… And you can sense he knows it’s all for him.

He sups from a glass knocking back the golden liquid. His intense stare pierces at you through the smoky ambiance, and a subtle beckoning gesture of his head soon suggests an invitation beyond the confines of the pulsating music.

In a daring move, fuelled by the flutter between your legs and the need to seek a respite from the intense heat of the nightclub's intoxicating energy inking your skin like a cheap stick-poke, you decide to follow the tempting hulkness of him.

Drawn by a magnetic force, even if a small ebb inside your gut warns you against your chagrin. It's the kind of sensation that leaves a lingering taste of ash in your mouth - a pertinent reminder that, in the urban landscape, even what feels undeniably good can be wrapped in the coarse fabric of moral ambiguity.

But you quickly push it aside as you totter after him; you know what you crave. And come Hell or high water if you're not going to get it.

As you step into the night, the abrupt transition from the seismic warmth of the club, to the cool night air, is palpable on your skin. Emerging from the sweltering cocoon into the refreshing breath of the outside world, a welcome, soft breeze soothes your neck and stirs the tendrils of your hair stuck to it. Your lungs fill with condensation as you breathe in.

The distant thud of the music forms a muffled backdrop to the dimly lit street as you search his broad shoulders out.

The neon glow from the club spills into the side alley, casting long shadows on the brick walls as you navigate the uneven pavement after him.

The cool air becomes a pragmatic balm for your overheated skin, salved in as you wipe at it. The atmosphere shifts from the previous frenetic energy of the dance floor to a hushed anticipation, as guided by a heated curiosity, you venture further into the unknown and shadows alike.

The sounds of the city, normally drowned out by the nightclub beats, become more pronounced in the secluded alleyway, adding an eerie dimension to this clandestine encounter. The pungent aroma of a nearby Chinese restaurant weaves through the air. The piquant notes of soy, ginger, and garlic emerge, battling with the prevailing stench of decay from the dumpsters that line the labyrinth, blocking out the light in its opacity the further you follow.

You can feel your body buzzing; a low hum that centres in your core, radiating outwards down your limbs that feel wibbly like spaghetti.

He lights something, smoke billowing out from behind him; the embers fizzing a vitriolic red in the darkness as he turns to ensure you’re still following. The only light on his succinct features as he inhales through the dark.

You palm at your neck, feeling the clammy stickiness of your own skin, cracking it out from side to side as your heels scrape along the rough concrete, matching the tempo of your heart beating in your ears as you keep pace.

The abrupt shift in the atmosphere is palpable. The cool night air, tainted by the distant scent of fetid dumpsters, provides a stark contrast to the stale waft of the club. Neon signs from nearby establishments cast erratic patterns on the uneven brick walls, revealing the hidden textures of urban decay.

The stranger, a silhouette in a dark leather trench, against the backdrop, beckons you further into the shadows down the alley. The flickering lights create a break dance of uncertainty, as the city's nocturnal sounds amplify in the secluded space.

In the grit and shadows of the back alley, you confront the dichotomy between attraction and uncertainty. It's a feverish anticipation, the air thick with a blend of arousal and the acrid scent of the city's underbelly. Your mind becomes a battleground of intense desire and shrinking caution, drawn to the enticing danger that lurks in the shadows, tumbling further down the rabbit hole, giving Alice a run for her money.

In the dank ambiguity of the alleyway, the decision to follow him becomes a bold plunge into a swampy narrative where the lines between hazard and want blur.

You’re not afraid of him, you’re incredibly turned on; the duality of forbidden fruit, smirking as you can feel your heat soiling your underwear.

He stops, smoking on what you now see is a fat blunt, and he offers it out to you, smoke billowing from his nostrils. You drag on it deeply and hand it back, before he takes another for himself and flicks it away, a comet’s tail sparkling in the dark.

The man materialises fully from the alley's shadows, a silhouette of dismantled disarray under the glow of purple neons from above on the rear of the club.

He reaches for you, giant paws maraud on your hips and he pulls you close, skin soldering to yours.

You make quick notes of the scuffed denim clinging to his waist that tells a story of hard-worn days around the knees, while the long leather trench, battered, drapes over his form, riding especially tight around his upper body, with an air of seen-it-all nonchalance. The leather is scratched as you feel your way up his arms.

The deep V-neck top underneath hints at a familiarity with the less savoury corners of the nightlife; a sartorial choice that leans into the sleaze rather than away from it. A cheap brassy chain with an indiscernable pendant hangs long beneath his clavicle. His sternum hints at tone and muscle whilst his stomach puffs out slightly at the waist, indicating the embryonic stages of a middle-aged spread.

His slovenly facial hair seems more like an afterthought than a fashion choice; a careless, scruffy embellishment left to weed on a face etched with the marks of countless dubious dealings. The moustache, weathered yet defiant, clings to his upper lip like a survivor in the chaos. Caught in the purple glow, it resembles the dark foliage of a tangled landscape, patchy in places up close.

You lick your lips wondering what it will feel like running against your cunt.

His tanned skin carries a patina of large pores over a hawkish nose, the biggest feature on his face with a prominent ridge as the harsh clinical glow of the neons expose every imperfection. He becomes a figure caught between reality and illusion in your foggy view; the violet tinge revealing a chiaroscuro of contrasts on his skin, transforming him into a nocturnal spectre that will haunt your dreams long after this clandestine tryst is over.

He pulls you closer into the raw, unfiltered reality of his fingers squeezing your hips and bunching up the obscenely thin material of your dress around them; the breeze licking delectably up the back of your thighs. His dark eyes wander obviously down to your chest, licking his own lips as he revels in the absence of a bra as your nipples dare to harden.

“What’s your name?” You query as you inhale him in.

Despite reeking of a calculated indifference, a cloud of stale cigarettes and clumsy hand-rolled joints clings to him; an obvious scent that weaves through the fabric of his jagged clothes, reminiscent of countless nights spent in the gutter with a different body wrapped around him, no doubt. It's the kind of smell that seeps into the pores and stays there until you wash it away in the morning.

Beneath this layer of grimy urban residue, there's a faint trace of cheap cologne, a feeble attempt at masking the raw essence of the streets. It's a fragrance that mingles with the sour tang of sweat, creating a cocktail of dizzying odours that hovers around him like a weary trail of late-night escapades that stack up against him.

The subtle hint of leather from his long trench coat adds another dimension to his olfactory presence. It's a stink of marred resilience, a tangible reminder of his nocturnal tales that have seeped into the very fabric of his attire.

He hums of sex, of regret and bad choices.

“Does it matter?” He responds with a lazy click of his tongue as his eyes penetrate yours again. A voice that is raw with the thickness of phlegm, grating at the back of his throat.

You nod. “I wanna scream it as you make me come.” You say, a smirk across your dewy lips as you saturate them.

You carry an aura that bears no wanton shame; you flout it at him, challenging him. Your red light in the window signalling that you're free of constraint, of moral and disregard.

There's a lingering hint of your sweet and zesty perfume, a delicate fruit ripe for the plucking. It's a fragrance that, despite the allure, cannot completely mask the subtle undertones of sweat and exertion from your time amidst the pulsing crowd of the nightclub.

Your fingers find their way up the lapels of his coat, the soft leather creaking in places as you tighten your grip around it.

His fingers have pulled your dress up now, revealing the cheeks of your ass to the potent kiss of the cool air and anyone who would happen a glance down into the deep trench of the ally.

“Dieter.” He gruffs.

Your lips meet in a gritty collision. His bedraggled scruff brushes against your skin; a coarse texture that adds a raw intensity to the kiss. It's not tender, but a desperate melding of the two of you clattering against one another. A rebellion against the urban pulse around you.

His fingers claw into the meat of your ass as your tongue clashes with his, sucking the remnants of the whiskey he sank at the bar out of his gums.

When his hands make contact, pawing at your bare skin as he pinches the plump flesh between his fingers, there's a roughness; an unapologetic texture that speaks of calloused resilience. Delectable abrasiveness that cuts through the usual softness associated with human contact.

You briefly wonder what it is he does for a living, if he has one at all. Something with his hands perhaps? Either that or he’s not adept to the external care of them. It's not a touch that seeks to comfort as you gasp with his grip that binds. It'll leave bruises and you soar at the thought.

He slaps you; a sting burning on your right cheek, echoing down the alley, which is rewarded with you pushing your tongue further into his mouth with hungry groans.

“What are you gonna do to me, huh?” You tease, catching your breath for a moment. The bite of his chapped lips against yours makes you shudder.

He grabs at your skimpy thong, pulling the sheen of the flimsy material from the nestled crack of your ass, and tears it with ease. The elastic snapping makes you claw deeper into the leather.

“What do you think, baby?” He smirks.

“I think I’m gonna have a good time with you right here.” You gasp as he tongues your neck, tasting the salty brine of your skin.

“Right here, in this nasty alley?” He taunts.

“Yeah.”

“Fucking filthy aren’t you?” He draws back to watch your eyes as his fingers swipe through your folds and coat them in your slick that’s almost watery, there’s so much of it dripping out of you.

“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lip.

“I like it.” He says, as his finger, you're not sure which, teases the entrance of your hole.

He can feel you clench, wanting to bear down around it as he slides the rough pad of it in.

“So fucking wet for me,” Dieter praises.

Your hand palms him, hard and bulging inside his jeans. He grunts like a hog searching out truffles as you squeeze.

You moan as he slips his fingers in, feels like two, but they're so thick it could be more.

“Mmm, fuck.” You whine as you feel him pump them in and out. The sensation grips you like a vice; a gut-wrenching mix of pleasure and discomfort as he stretches and scissors inside you.

“Want to stretch out this little hole, get you ready for me.” Dieter says, as the sound of your cunt squelches loudly around his digits. “Tell me how it feels?”

“It feels so fucking good.”

And it does; it's a prickling awareness that crawls beneath your skin, like the unsettling shiver that precedes a storm as it crawls over your scalp. There's a metallic taste in your mouth as you bite down on your cheeks, groaning and feeling your body start that delicious wind inward.

He pushes in deeper, stroking against the fleshy, swollen spot that makes your thighs tremble.

“Oh God…” You whine, trying to steady yourself against him as you cling onto this belt. Desperate to unlatch it, but unable to focus on the task fully as he faps harder.

The cleft of his hand pushes against your clit as a noise similar to a toad escapes your throat.

“You don’t even know where these fingers have been, do you?” Dieter says, lips rolled over his teeth. “And now they’re in your cunt. Oh, I can feel you tighten… you like the thought of that, huh? My fingers in someone else and then fucking you with them. God, you're nasty.” He smirks.

You grin as you pull on his bottom lip, nipping on it ravenously as he hisses.

“Taste it. Taste how wet I just made you, baby. Yeah.” He slips his fingers out of your pussy and into your mouth; your slick coating your lips like freshly applied gloss. You lick in between them, murmuring in delight as he simmers at you darkly.

He stuffs his fingers back into your soaked hole. You’re so wet that it sticks in your thighs, cooled by the faint breeze that ripples down the scummy alley.

“Look at you standing here with my fingers in your pussy. Fucking slut. Are you a slut for me?” Dieter mutters, his hot mouth in your face.

"Yeah, I'm a slut for you, Dieter." You moan.

He licks up the side of your jaw, all the way up your cheek and hums in your ear. “Get my cock out.”

You pull his belt open, chinking against itself as you unbutton and unzip him. You reach in and groan loudly at what you find.

“You wanna fuck me with this big cock, Dieter?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

He’s heavy in your palm, thick. A prominent mushroom head that's flushed scarlet under the purple hues and weeping. Sticky and warm as the strings of his precum coat your fingers like webs.

“Shit, you’re so big.” You groan, glancing down at it. You stroke up and down, engrossed in the skin that rolls back over his glossed head.

“You like big cocks inside you?” He utters, losing his breath as you squeeze around him.

“Yeah.” You nod, hypnotically.

“I bet you do. I bet this pussy’s been filled with lots of ‘em, hmm?” He emphasises the point by gripping you close and pumping his fingers in and out of you in a punishing tempo.

“Fuck!” You caterwaul. “Oh God! Yeah!”

The squelches are louder, the wetness of your pussy obscene as the drenched smacks of it click down the alleyway.

“Look at the mess you’re making.” Dieter stops to pull his fingers out, your slick running down them, and he sucks them into his mouth hastily. “Mmm… fuck, you taste good.”

He faps again, curling his fingers up inside you and your thighs thunder against him.

“That’s it, give it to me. Come on my fingers, baby.” Dieter prompts.

It pulses through your veins like a relentless drumbeat, a primal rhythm echoing the anticipation bursting in your chest. It's not a refined thrill but a visceral surge; an electric charge that sets every nerve ablaze. Your senses become hyper-aware, as if the world around you is dialled up to an intense, crackling volume.

The city sounds - horns blaring, distant sirens, the muffled thump of music from the club - merge into a chaotic symphony, adding to the cacophony of your racing heartbeat. Standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath you vibrates with potential.

There's a heat that radiates from within, a feverish warmth that consumes any traces of hesitation, burning it up, as you willing step off the ledge, unafraid of the abyss below.

You cry out, freefalling as his fingers pull it out of you; tightening around them and bearing down as you come.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You pant, your thighs shake and your hips jerk as he thumbs against your clit. The force of it propels you forward into his chest.

“There we go.” He cajoles, grinning at you as you tremble and contort. Your knees buckle as he holds you upright, hand firmly on your ass, still kneading as you regain your sight. “You needed that, didn’t you, baby?”

Dieter leans in and licks up the side of your face again. The sweat from his neck sticks to your jaw, grazing with the hairs on him that smatter there.

“Let me suck it,” you pant as he slips out of you. Your fingers are still curled around his cock as you pump him.

“You like being a slut and sucking strangers' cocks in alley ways, hmm?”

“Yeah. I wanna be on my knees for you as you fuck my mouth, Dieter.” He can’t stop you from kneeling, feeling the pebbly pavement hard on them; gravel embedded in your skin as you lower yourself willingly into the dirt.

You want to be vile, disgusting, perverse for him. Every bit as filthy and unabashed as he is.

You lick up the length of him; a meaty musk floods your nose and the tang of the salt bubbling out the slit of him glues to your tongue.

“Show me what that slutty mouth can do.” He urges, resting back against the wall, legs slightly bowed.

You take him in, feeling your lips stretch around the circumference of him, hollowing your cheeks as you take him down as far as you can without choking. Coating him in sticky saliva as it pools around your mouth.

He shuffles his jeans further down, releasing his balls from the tight confines of them. He grunts as he gathers your hair into a pony around his fist, cocking his head to get a better view of you in the violet lights sucking joyously on his dick.

“Suck on my balls, baby.” He instructs as he watches you pop him out of your mouth. “That's it. Get ‘em nice and wet. Fuck. Yeah.”

His breath bounces in his throat as you lick them, alternating between pulling each of them into your mouth as you suck and roll your tongue around them.

He bends forward, those swollen plums slipping from your warm, wet orifice and taps your cheek with the two fingers he fucked you with.

“Open.” Dieter spits in your mouth, quick and with precision.

It hits the back of your tongue; a discordant punctuation mark that echoes like a rebel yell in the night. You cream instantly as he does it, marks you, tasting that thick glob in your mouth as he butts his cock against your lips.

“So eager to suck dick, aren't you? Fuck, you’re so good at it. Take it deeper.”

You feel the heaves rumble up from your gut as he punches the back of your throat with his thick head. Saliva pools in your cheeks, and you can feel it seep out of your lips and down your chin.

“Oh, you make my cock so wet. Look at that.” Dieter smirks as he tightens your makeshift ponytail around his fist. Pulling you further onto his length until he thrusts in and your nose meets the soft fat of his lower belly.

Pushed in so deeply that you inhale the coarse, curly hairs of his happy trail. Snuffling around them as you try to breathe.

“Choke on it, baby. Fuck, like that.” He grunts out loudly, hissing around his teeth. You hear it echo around the alley. It's like the growl of a neglected engine, a primal sound that refuses to be drowned out by the urban hum.

He does it again, rolling you back down the length of him as you splutter, and before you can inhale, he thrusts hard again, taking your breath away as you retch. Thick strings of drool drip gloopy onto your chest.

He fucks your mouth and revels in it, revels in your eagerness to get off with it.

“Stand up, baby. Gonna fuck that tight pussy right now.” He gasps, unable to delay the gratification any further.

“Yeah!” You cough, wiping your mouth and chin.

“Yeah you want it. Want me ploughing you against this wall?” He pushes you against it, face first, and smacks your ass again. Your cheeks ripple with the force as you whine with a delirious giggle.

“Bend over, baby. I want that ass.” Dieter instructs and you gasp. It's a sonic rebellion, like the crackle of worn vinyl, where each pop and hiss claws up your spine to tantalise and leave you begging for more.

“Oh my God, yes! Put your tongue in my ass hole. Oh yeah! Fuck!” You groan, nails scraping down the wall as he pries your cheeks apart and you feel the wet on his tongue teasing around your puckered rim.

You feel him spit on it; a raw, unapologetic truth as he tongues you, dipping in slightly whilst you squeal. You feel him lick down along your seam, tasting you as his tongue butts your clit and you groan in want.

“Fuck me, Dieter.” You wail. You can’t wait anymore. You need him. “Fuck me hard.”

“Oh, you want it, don’t you?” He stands up, pulling you up a little and positioning you with your legs apart.

He runs his cock inside your wet folds, teasing and groaning as he greases himself up in you.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He growls again. You feel another sting on your ass as he swats it.

You hear his breath pelting in the back of his throat as he jerks himself a couple of times and lines up. His head notches at your entrance, and you automatically push back, lipping yourself over him.

“Desperate for it, aren’t you?” Dieter gruffs. "Take my cock."

The stretch burns a little, but you're so wet that he slides in with minimal effort. You clench around him, dragging him in as his grip knots at your hips.

He pulls back, admiring the purply sheen of you around his dick and then plunges in until he bottoms out.

“Ah, yeah. Fuck this pussy, Dieter.” You seethe through gritted teeth; an internal tempest, a storm brewing within the confines of your body and mind as he fills you up and packs you out.

It's a visceral upheaval, an electric surge that ignites every nerve and sets your senses ablaze. Another coiled spring, ready to unleash a torrent of unrestrained energy.

His cock plunges deeper, faster, setting into a rapid-fire surge that jolts your senses into hyperactivity. Every synapse seems to spark with the pulsing flare of just coming, and coming hard around him.

It's a fireworks display of thoughts, each one exploding before you can decipher it, gone before you have the chance to form coherent understanding as his cock batters all sense of symbiotic thought out of your skull.

“You feel me? Stretching you open like that?” Dieter puffs as he winds deep.

“Yeah, I like it. Balls deep in my fucking pussy.” You grunt, biting so hard at your lip that you can taste loose change.

“Oh, you like it deep, baby. Fuck.”

“Does my pussy feel good?”

“So good, baby. Shit.” He pants. You feel his fingers clawing into your hips now, yanking you back with each snap.

“So tight around your big, hard cock fucking me.” You husk as he strips your breath from you again.

“Oh fuck, you got a mouth on you, baby.”

“I want you to fill it with your come, Dieter.” You throw a look over your shoulder at him, and he smirks, puffing as he works; lilac sweat inking around the trench of his throat, tracking down his chest and staining the V of his top darker.

“Come all in that dirty, whore mouth.” He agrees.

“Yeah.”

“Are you a dirty whore?”

“Mmm.” You nod, smiling. You reach round gripping onto his wrist tightly, nails digging in.

“Must be, letting me fuck you like this. Fucking you down this alley, balls deep. Anyone could see you getting it. They can probably hear you.”

“Yeah.”

“Hear how desperate you are for my cock filling you up.”

“I love it! Oh God!” You shriek as he hammers now. The sound of his thighs slapping against your ass cheeks rebeverate down the alley like striking plastic relentlessly.

“Oh my God, your cock feels so good in my pussy! Fuck, you’re so fucking hard, Dieter!”

“You make me hard, baby. You and this tight little cunt.”

“Don’t stop!” You nails claw down the brickwork as you pant and push back onto him.

You can feel it, snapping at you, winding deep into a strangling coil ready to break, urging you to dive headfirst into the current of the electrifying unknown.

"Come for me, baby." He sneers. "Want this pussy soaking me."

He stands you upright taking a step forward so you’re crushed into the wall. The curve of his cock grinds against that perfect spot within you as his thrusts are more indolent, more deliberate now.

His hand is gently on your throat, swallowing into his palm, as he bites on the back of your neck skin, tasting your perfumy glaze.

Your nose grazes against the brickwork as his fingers sweep back and forth, around and around on your rioting clit, tightening with every stroke as he fucks you deep.

“God, you’re fucking me so good right now, Dieter. Don’t stop. Show me how good my pussy makes you feel.” You pant into the mortar, your tongue tasting it as you wail.

“You gonna come for me again, all over me? Let me go home with my cock stinking of you?” Dieter grits in your ear.

“Mmm… fuck.” You groan as he pushes you into the wall further, crushes you as you feel like you could sink into it.

“Say my name, baby. Let everyone hear how good I’m fucking you right now. You wanted to know my name to scream it, yeah? So scream it.”

“DIETER! Oh fuck, Dieter! Yes!”

You flood him as you come, tightening around him as you shake, losing your voice. The shockwave hits you; a dynamo unleashed, a surge of energy that feels as if a thousand champagne bubbles are effervescing beneath your skin.

A pressure cooker reaching its boiling point, the lid lifted, and the steam of excitement escaping in a hissing crescendo.

“Yeah, baby. Come all over my cock That's it… oh fuck!” Dieter grizzles.

The fog of his breath steams in your ear as you come; soaking and contracting around him. Dizzy from the cognitive buzz that thumps heavy between your ears and deafens you with white noise as your ears ring.

“Are you ready? You wanna make yourself come in my mouth?” You challenge, catching your breath.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

Dropping to them with a heavy thud that’s sure to have left them grazed up and bloody, you take him back in your throat, eagerly pumping the base of him as you slurp him down.

“That’s it, suck it for me. Taste that slutty pussy all over my cock.”

“I want you to come, Dieter. Come in my mouth.” You gasp as you take him in deep, sucking hard.

“Oh that’s good, like that. Pretty as a fucking picture. Oh shit. Come on, I know you want it... Pull it all out of me. Suck it harder. Take what you want.” He encourages you as you speed up. Fingers slipping over him as you taste the sweetly honeyed remnants of yourself on him.

“Yeah, keep doing that. Right there. Oh shit… Oh shit, shit. I’m gonna come. Fuck. I’m gonna come right down your throat, baby!” Dieter warns, and you feel him pulse around your lips.

“Fuuuccckkk!” He floods your mouth, pumping hot and salty streams into it as his voice chokes in the back of his larynx.

“Fuck. Show me… let me see it before you swallow.” Dieter pants, tapping the underside of your chin as you pull off of him.

He takes his cock in his hand and squeezes the last drops out onto your tongue that’s full of his pearly spend.

Then, he leans forward, slipping his adept tongue into your mouth as you both swirl them around one another. You groan in delight as he drinks himself from your mouth, both of you swallowing it down together.

A momentary calming serenity descends like a gentle fog, softening the edges of your racing thoughts, settling them into a tranquil pool of abject satisfaction. It's a mental sigh, a release of held breath, the wrangling of taught limbs, as you sigh and hum contentedly as you fall deeper into his rancid mouth.

Questions linger, threatening to jab and pierce through the conscious veil, thoughts that you hold off drafting cohesive answers to until later, refusing to cross over into a threatening taint of reality.

“Fuck,” you groan dreamily as he pulls away. He grins at you, licking his lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

Your dress flaps back down around your thighs as you stand upright; the silk of it rippling in the breeze.

Your discarded and torn thong is tangled around the heel of your shoe; you lift your ankle, pulling it free and tossing it aside like your morals and any sense of regret.

“You need money for a cab, baby?” Dieter asks you as he lights up another joint he pulls from his trench pocket.

You shake your head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Sure, sure,” he says nodding nonchalantly, blowing thick smoke into the air.

He offers the joint out to you, the rings on his fingers catching the light in the back of your retinas, but you shake your head again with some unbridled mirth.

A few beats exist between the two of you, marred in something more than post-coital awkwardness. It's as if the exchange between you, marked by the weave of purple hues and the coarse air of the city, has left a lewd mark, staining the alley with more than your flouting promiscuousness and bodily fluids.

As you move forward, back up the alley with your heels clattering and your arms wrapped around yourself and sticky in between your legs, he ambles beside you, throwing a lingering glance that cements the layers of filth permanently under your skin.

His eyes trawl up and down your body as he tokes contemplatively. There's a magnetic pull, an invisible thread that seems reluctant to sever as you reach the familiar noises of the street and branch out towards the curb.

He pulls your elbow back so you avoid colliding with revellers you haven’t seen coming, and his touch leaves a brand that sears blisters on your skin.

You smile and he nods, turning away from you, ready to slink off into the shadows of the night like some would-be anti-hero etched onto the pages of a dogeared comic.

You take a few paces and stop, calling out to him; breaking the charged silence that had veiled over you both during that walk up the deep vein of the alley.

He turns with a whiff of skewed curiosity as you linger, his eyes still roaming over you; a dog still craving your meat.

“You wanna come back with me?” You ask brazenly, the breeze blowing the greased tendrils of your hair onto your lips.

Dieter inhales on the joint thoughtfully, eyebrows knitting together into contemplation and blows a thick wad of smoke out into the air that dissipates above the crown of unruly tufts that are slicked with sweat and have lost some of their fluff now.

The gossamer smoke glows as it thins out, cast in ultraviolet hues from the fuzzed indigo neons of the adjacent club.

He licks his bottom lip wet and sucks it in, releasing it with a pop as he considers the scenario you’ve now put to him - all of them.

You watch with anticipation prickling on your arms and down your back. You can’t help but smirk at him as you wave down a cab. You linger, with the door open, one foot inside the well of the back passenger seat; on the cusp of a farewell that's both a challenge and a beckoning.

Dieter twists his face into a wry acknowledgment; a deep grin that slices at you through the street. A crude, filthy mark left on the gritty canvas of the brickwork, graffiti on the walls and marked on your body alike.

In that uncertain pause between you both, the alley holds its breath.

Thank you so much for enjoying some sleazy Dieter. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and please give it a re-blog if you enjoyed reading. Thank you, lovelies! 🖤

MASTERLIST

Tagging the Dickin' Around With Dieter on Discord Lovelies:

If you want to be removed, that's cool 🖤

@for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @nerdieforpedro @laurfilijames @goodwithcheese @maggiemayhemnj @linzels-blog @ladybess-a03 @undercoverpena @legendary-pink-dot

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo the bubble #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x reader #jett's writing

[blue1amory]

Think i need someone older || KR7

Pairing: Kimi Räikkönen x reader

Summary: you fell in love with Kimi and you ain’t afraid to let the entire world know with your new song

Request: yes

Formula 1 Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Think I need someone older

Just a little bit colder

Take the weight off your shoulders

Think I need someone older

Developing a romantic attachment to a man of 43 years of age was a deviation from the anticipated trajectory of your life. However, this paradigm shift in your emotional landscape transpired through your association with Kimi Räikkönen. In the course of your relationship, Räikkönen served as an influential catalyst in altering your worldview, instilling a newfound zest for existence, and enabling you to relish life to its fullest potential in his company. This transformational experience has underscored the notion that, in various facets of existence, the accrual of wisdom and experience with age tends to augment the overall quality of one's journey.

Baby

Am I your little secret

18

I'm old enough to keep it

Certainly, the inception of your romantic entanglement with Kimi Räikkönen, when you were merely 18 years old, was not devoid of its initial tribulations. The genesis of your relationship was marred by a divisive sentiment among the fans, who, perhaps fueled by preconceived notions, castigated you with accusations of being a "gold digger." This unjust aspersion drew the ire of an ardent section of the racing aficionados.

Nonetheless, a transformative moment emerged from the crucible of adversity, catalyzed by a remarkable display of devotion. When Räikkönen found himself ensnared in the throes of a harrowing accident, your ardent sprint towards him on the racetrack evoked a profound shift in public sentiment. This singular act of courage, emblematic of your genuine affection, played a pivotal role in quelling the animosity harbored by detractors. The very fabric of antipathy began to unravel, allowing for a gradual reconciliation with the fans.

Simultaneously, the invasive intrusion of the paparazzi, constantly shadowing your relationship, posed its own set of challenges. In response to this relentless media scrutiny, a succinct yet remarkably effective defense mechanism emerged in the form of Räikkönen's characteristic phrase, "bwoah." This single word served as a deftly wielded tool, a simple utterance that acted as a shield against intrusive inquiries and unfounded speculation, preserving the sanctity of your private life.

Intriguingly, your commitment to discretion became emblematic of your relationship's underlying strength. Every nuance and facet of your journey together was meticulously safeguarded, cultivating an aura of enigmatic intimacy. Your collective ability to shield the intricacies of your romance from the prying eyes of the world underscored a profound connection built upon mutual trust and a shared understanding of the importance of maintaining personal boundaries in the public sphere.

Yeah, guys my age just aren't the same

I'm young and that's okay

The emergence of romantic affection for Kimi Räikkönen, rather than individuals within one's peer group, might indeed be rooted in a complex interplay of personal circumstances. The notion of "daddy issues" suggests a potential underpinning for this unconventional romantic inclination. It is conceivable that these familial dynamics, impacting one's emotional landscape and interpersonal preferences, played a role in the receptivity to Kimi Räikkönen's overture for a romantic rendezvous.

In the context of an individual's romantic choices, the decision to accept Räikkönen's invitation for a date could be construed as emblematic of a multifaceted interplay between personal history and present circumstances. It is plausible that past experiences and familial dynamics, typified by the aforementioned "daddy issues," contributed to a unique receptiveness to Räikkönen's advances. In essence, this choice may be reflective of a desire for an alternative dynamic in relationships, one perhaps divergent from conventional expectations associated with age compatibility.

However, it is imperative to exercise caution when ascribing causality to such matters, as human emotions and romantic preferences often stem from a myriad of factors. The complexities of human psychology and interpersonal relationships defy singular explanations, warranting a comprehensive understanding that acknowledges the interplay of diverse influences on matters of the heart.

Think I need someone older

Just a little bit colder

Take the weight off your shoulders

Think I need someone older

Subsequent to the stabilization of emotions and the subsiding of initial fervor, a strategic decision emerged to gradually unveil the contours of your romantic liaison to the public domain, as executed through Kimi Räikkönen's Instagram account. This calculated disclosure allowed for a window into the profundity of your affectionate attachment to the enigmatic Formula One driver, Kimi Räikkönen. A visual testament to your unwavering love, discernible in the depths of your eyes, was conveyed to a global audience through these curated snapshots of your shared moments.

The portrayal of your relationship assumed an iconic status, representing a narrative that transcended mere personal experience. It cast the dynamic between you and Kimi as a united front, facing the world in harmonious tandem. In the eyes of the duo, an implicit pact to confront life's challenges together had been forged, and this narrative underscored a prevailing "you two against the world" ethos that permeated your shared existence.

It is noteworthy that, beyond the immediate confines of your partnership, a burgeoning community of enthusiasts, captivated by your union, emerged. The phenomenon of "shipping," a manifestation of fan-generated adulation, found expression through the creation of fan accounts dedicated to chronicling public appearances where the two of you were sighted. These fan-driven platforms served to further solidify the mythos of your relationship, elevating it from a private affair to a cultural touchstone with a global following. In this manner, your connection transcended the confines of the personal to become a shared experience, emblematic of love and unity celebrated by a fervent community of admirers.

Darlin'

Hold me while you wipe my tears

Fallin'

You say I'm wise beyond my years

Maintaining a romantic relationship with Kimi Räikkönen proved to be a complex journey, marked by numerous challenges. The emotional toll was evident, as there were occasions when tears were shed due to personal insecurities and the negativity projected onto the relationship by external forces. Nevertheless, the presence of Kimi offered solace during these turbulent times. He assumed the role of a comforting figure, consistently prepared to assuage emotional distress by assuring you of your intrinsic beauty, discouraging the indulgence of tears for seemingly trivial matters.

In times of self-doubt and self-loathing, Kimi's unwavering support became a crucial pillar of the relationship. His commitment to bolstering your self-esteem transcended conventional measures. Even if it entailed the consumption of an entire bottle of vodka to dispel the doubts that plagued your self-image, Kimi remained resolute in his pursuit of ensuring that you embraced your body unconditionally. This unwavering commitment to fostering self-love and self-acceptance, even through unconventional means, underscored the depth of his dedication to your well-being and the relationship as a whole.

Yeah, guys my age just aren't the same

I'm young and that's okay

The disapproval of your parents regarding your relationship with an older man, Kimi, was a source of significant familial tension. In an attempt to divert your affections, they endeavored to arrange introductions with individuals of your own age group. However, these endeavors proved fruitless, as your unwavering commitment to your relationship with Kimi remained steadfast. The underlying rationale for your steadfastness may be attributed to your perception of a tangible future with Kimi, a vision conspicuously absent when contemplating potential partnerships with peers of your age.

It is conceivable that the discord between your parents and yourself, stemming from your relationship choices, led to a breakdown in communication, resulting in a cessation of contact between you and your parents. Nevertheless, unbeknownst to them, this newfound distance brought about a sense of contentment in your life. Dating Kimi facilitated a liberating sensation, akin to a burden being lifted from your shoulders. This emotional liberation translated into an increased sense of relaxation and an amplified feeling of being cherished and accepted, which you had not previously experienced to the same extent in your prior dating experiences.

Think I need someone older

Just a little bit colder

Take the weight off your shoulders

Think I need someone older

Upon the revelation of your relationship with Kimi Räikkönen to the public, a portion of individuals chose to distance themselves from you, citing your union as a source of disgrace. Nevertheless, these disparaging remarks and criticisms failed to sway your resolve, primarily due to the unwavering support and acceptance you found within Kimi's circle of Formula One acquaintances. These friends extended their hospitality and camaraderie to you without reservation, abstaining from any negative commentary, whether in your presence or behind your back.

The Formula One associates of Kimi proved to be a pillar of emotional solace during a period marked by public scrutiny and judgment. Their capacity to overlook external opinions and embrace you as a vital addition to Kimi's life underscored their genuine happiness at witnessing Kimi's newfound contentment. The visible improvements in Kimi's demeanor, characterized by increased smiles and enhanced sociability, were apparent to his Formula One comrades, leading them to acknowledge the positive impact you had on his life. This collective perspective precluded any animosity or ill will towards you, as your role in enhancing Kimi's well-being was celebrated and appreciated within the close-knit Formula One community.

I know I'm younger

As your lover

But I've always wanted a man

For the summer

Age is a number

My dear, I know you'll understand

A predominant source of your insecurities within the context of your relationship with Kimi Räikkönen was the substantial age gap that existed between you, with Kimi being 43 years old and yourself merely 18, resulting in a notable age differential of 25 years. This age disparity undoubtedly contributed to a sense of self-doubt and apprehension, as it represented a conspicuous difference in life experiences, worldviews, and stages of personal development between the two of you.

Furthermore, your self-critique extended to moments when you found yourself engaging in rapid and seemingly unnecessary discourse, fostering self-disdain for such perceived behavior. Additionally, instances of playfulness towards Kimi would trigger self-criticism within you. However, it is noteworthy that through open and constructive dialogue between both parties, you successfully addressed and resolved these sources of internal strife. This dialogue allowed both you and Kimi to articulate your respective viewpoints and opinions, fostering understanding and mutual acceptance.

A significant outcome of these discussions was the establishment of a communication rule, which mandated the transparent sharing of thoughts and concerns when something weighed on either of your minds. This rule served as a mechanism for the healthy expression of thoughts and emotions within the relationship, ultimately promoting a greater sense of understanding and harmony between you and Kimi.

Think I need someone older

The profound bond between Kimi Räikkönen's parents, Paula and Matti, and yourself bore the semblance of a familial connection that transcended conventional in-law relationships. The depth of their affection for you was palpable, fostering a sense of belonging and acceptance that extended beyond mere formality. In Kimi's eyes, this genuine connection was a source of contentment and satisfaction, as he cherished the harmonious relationship that had developed between you and his parents.

Kimi's proactive efforts to facilitate interactions between you and his parents reflected his eagerness to nurture this bond. Whenever his demanding racing schedule allowed, he would arrange gatherings to enable all parties to spend quality time together. These occasions were not only a testament to his affection for you but also a demonstration of his desire to cultivate a meaningful connection between you and his family.

Even during those periods when Kimi was engrossed in his racing commitments and physical distance prevented your presence, either Paula or Matti would make the effort to reach out to you, providing assistance and unwavering support. The profound admiration and appreciation you held for Kimi's parents were unmistakable, as they consistently demonstrated a caring and supportive presence in your life. Their role as surrogate parents had a profound impact on you, solidifying their place in your heart and evoking a profound sense of gratitude.

Think I need someone older

Just a little bit colder

Take the weight off your shoulders

Think I need someone older

The permanence and unwavering commitment within your relationship with Kimi Räikkönen became evident through your steadfast determination to maintain the status quo. This enduring connection between the two of you bore the hallmark of a soulmate relationship, one that seemed preordained in the grand tapestry of life's journey. Despite occasional challenges and moments of disconnect when Kimi could metaphorically be likened to a pen lacking the ink to write, your profound love for him remained unshaken.

The impending decision to formalize your union in matrimony, scheduled within the upcoming week, serves as a testament to the depth of your affection and devotion. The act of marrying Kimi reflects not only your love for him but also your unwavering belief in the enduring nature of your bond. This significant milestone in your relationship signifies a commitment to a shared future, further solidifying the profound connection that has bound you and Kimi together in a manner akin to soulmates destined to cross paths in this lifetime.

yourusername

Liked by kimiräikkönen, f1, landonorris and 12.834,830 others

yourusername: proud to announce my new song called ‘older’

Tagged: kimiräikkönen

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#kimi räikkonën #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen #kimi räikkönen x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 4: Malum Malus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 - Crucible

Summary: The past haunts you, tempts you, but now you need to come to terms with it before it ruins your chances to save Hawkins from the Darkness.

Word Count: 16.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Sexual Tension, Ambiguous Sexual Identity, Unspoken Confidence in Sexual Identity, Psychological Manipulation, Dub-Con, Non-Verbal Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Grinding/Humping, Groping, Sexual Activity with Multiple Partners, Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Wow what a weird month. Remember when I said I wanted to get 2 chapters out in October? Wild. Gonna stress the importance of reading the warnings in this one. We dive into some…dicey territory especially at the end. Do not give into the temptation. Or do. That's kind of…exactly what this chapter is about. (But seriously read the warnings.)

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.”  - Robert Louis Stevenson, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

October 11, 1987

You were filled with a horrible sadness.

Worry.

You were alone...together alone.

He'd banished the others so he could focus on this...disgusting undertaking, but he'd put an obvious distance between the two of you purposefully. So he could do as he wished without your pitiful interference.

You knew this would be good for him: a singular focus, a task, a distraction. The end result would bring him to the light...but deep down you were worried he would be tempted further off the path as he forged through the darkness to get there.

"Be careful," you reminded him as the infernal red lightning flashed overhead. "You don't know what this will do."

"This will change things," he hissed excitedly. "It'll be different. It'll be perfect."

"Please." His hunger, his desire...it was palpable and overwhelming, saturating your surroundings. "Just...wait."

"It's just a little grave robbery," he chuckled darkly and closed his eyes. His form grew, large and imposing, and his hands reached for the heavens. "Everything will work out. You'll see."

"It's forbidden. Unholy."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at the challenge.

"You'll be here," he reasoned. "If anything goes wrong...you'll be here to fix it. You'll fix everything. Everything will be better. Soon."

He threw himself at the ground and drove his claws into the dirt, reaching...reaching...until the both of you shouted in pain at the resulting surge that tore through the Upside Down.

That tore through you.

You fell to your knees as you felt it pull at your heartstrings, as it ripped through your limbs, and you prayed...you prayed that everything would work. Because if it didn't...it would kill you.

And Eddie would be lost.

"You'll see," he sounded desperate now as he willed his little experiment to succeed. "Triumph over God. Over fate. We'll be together. Forever. Finally."

October 12, 1987

Deep below the Vatican laid the skeletal remnants of the Sanctuary of the Knights of the Holy Order. It was no longer in use--hadn't been for over a century--but it was there. Waiting. Kept as a reminder that mistakes had been made and lessons learned.

It had been a barracks, a place to train and rest, and mostly, a place to reflect and pray. To know oneself was to know God, because He lived inside them all. Through Him, they could overcome any challenge they faced.

Challenges that, occasionally, lived inside as well. Conflict between what was Good and what was Right.

Because the Sanctuary had also been a dungeon. A prison. A lab.

The Friars had been tasked to maintain the Sanctuary in those early days, to create weapons to aid in the fight when the Heavenly powers fell short. But in order to defeat something, you had to understand it. Creatures of Darkness had been captured, imprisoned, studied.

All of the books about the supernatural that you’d studied in your adolescence only existed because of the Order and the Friars of the Sanctuary.

But it was soul-splitting, hardening labor, and though the intentions were good…they were unethical. Unholy. But wasn’t that the way? Terrible things done in the name of goodness…were considered good no matter how terrible they were.

It wasn't until the Napoleonic Wars--when the Knights had been the worst kept secret in Europe after the conquest of the Papal States, as they did the bidding of the insidious Emperor--that everything changed. When Pope Pius VII returned from his banishment and saw that the Knights had been used for the bidding of one over the good of all, he reformed the Order.

All the dark deeds done in the name of good were buried. All of the research and experiments stopped.

And the Sanctuary closed its doors for good...

...except to you.

Where all the other Knights were anointed under the light of the moon, under the watchful eye of heaven, and were gifted with a blessing...your forefathers...you...were banished to the depths to make your vow.

That had been your first stop after you'd left Hawkins, so you could take the Oath properly.

You'd been led down the dusty winding staircase and made to explore the dank hole that still carried the stench of corruption and failure. You'd shined a light over the centuries-old dusty tomes, touched bones of saints, and viewed the body of your ancestor--the one who had turned down the offer of penance, the one who had killed his Pope--unnaturally preserved and kept on display.

He was a reminder, for your family and your family alone, of what would happen should you fail your life's purpose.

What a jarring experience, to speak the vow and then have your hand cut open to pour blood onto the knife still embedded in his heart.

They'd left you then, the Knights who'd brought you there, once they were sure you had taken the first solid steps on the path fate had in store for you. They clapped you on the shoulder, offered the briefest of congratulatory words, and then left you to, once again, crawl and climb through dark, unfathomable depths.

In hindsight, it was just a load of shit.

But for the briefest moment, you felt right. This had been the right choice, a birthright rather than a curse, and your determination would guide you to your ultimate goal.

It was a transcendent, euphoric experience akin to the moment you had realized you loved Eddie. You felt reborn once again.

Emboldened by this newfound confidence, you took the winding pathway back and you explored. The temptation was too strong. You read the tomes, you slashed through the air with a forgotten old sword inscribed with the Oath of the Order.

And you giggled as you pushed an old door open and found what you thought was an apothecary of some sort. You shined your flashlight over a set of shelves that was stacked with dusty old specimen jars labeled in antiquated script.

Your thoughts had immediately turned to Eddie; how the two of you had spent several hours making old pasta sauce jars look dusty and crusty and filled them with cornstarch, water, and food coloring for his Halloween campaign.

Venenum. Bilis. Sanguis.

You had intended to take a closer look when you kicked a jar that had been on the ground. Old and misshapen, it rolled into the shadows and you followed it. Several yards, until it hit a solid object and stopped.

The light of your flashlight hit the label first, Phlegethos Sanies, and you reached out to grab the jar.

Then you dragged the beam of your flashlight up and up, further and further.

Until you came face to face with a hulking skeleton with a horned skull.

A minotaur.

Chained to a chair, its head tilted back and jaw opened wide in a perpetual silent scream.

It was an unexpected sight and in your shock, your finger brushed the dusty, withered limb, and you saw.

Saw the atrocities committed all those years ago, heard the endless whines and screams that echoed against the stone, felt the pain that surged through every single creature that had been set upon that chair. That had been cursed to live out their final days in this place. In the name of Good. In the name of Heaven.

Your joy suddenly diminished and dread flooded you.

You already knew that the Sanctuary brought anything but sanctity to those who entered its depths, but to see it...to experience it in such a way--

"Go," the spirits warned. They amplified everything that you had felt less-than in the two short decades of your life and made you aware that while you were here as a Knight, you were very much other. Just like them. "You don’t belong here. Go. Before they get you next."

--would last with you forever.

That memory was what flashed before your eyes now as Steve threw Billy's unconscious body into the folding chair in the garage. As he and Robin wound rope around his body, and then latched handcuffs to his wrists. As they argued between each other and then spat accusations at you.

"He was dead!"

"How the fuck is he back?"

"What did you do? How did you do this?"

Mary Victoria stood beside you resolutely, and spat sharp words right back at them.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” She leaned closer to you and muttered under her breath. “Did…did you do this? It’s fine if you did I just…need to know if I need to kick someone’s ass if they come after you.”

“I didn’t,” you reassured her numbly.

“Ok good. Good. We can work with this,” she nodded.

You tried to feel a little proud of her. She was dealing with all of this madness with more strength and composure than anyone had given her credit for.

Did she get a little—

“Shut the fuck up Harrington, stop pointing fingers.”

—enthusiastic? Yes.

However, you had yet to check on her, and if your state of mind was anything other than WHAT it was at that very minute, you would have dragged her out of this room so she wouldn't have to bear witness to what followed.

Because you could feel that it would not be pretty; feel it in the very marrow of your bones.

Watching a man crawl from a grave...to see him reach out to you before he collapsed...and then to have to haul him back to wherever it was you had come from...had been a draining task.

Especially when you did your best not to touch his skin.

The others didn't seem to have that hang up though, as they manhandled him, seemingly debated one another over what the rest of his life might look like locked up in this garage.

"How are we gonna keep him here forever? He's gonna need food, water, clothes."

"Maybe he'll just wake up and be normal?"

"Hargrove? Normal? Pfft."

"Do we need duct tape? Just in case?" Robin asked warily, her hand going to her mouth so she could chew on her thumb nail in contemplation. "He was pretty strong last time...with the Mind Flayer and everything."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," you finally spoke up, ready to get the show on the road. "Resurrection takes a lot out of you; it'll take a good amount of time for him to wake up, let alone be strong enough to do any harm."

Of course you were immediately proven wrong as he gained consciousness with a strangled gasp and coughing fit. Everyone jumped as they startled.

"What the fuck! What the fuck!" Robin backed as far from him as she could.

"Maybe you're not the expert on this that you think you are," Steve accused harshly.

"Alright he's awake now. What do we do? Douse him in holy water? Just start asking questions?"

"Can you guys shut up," Dustin hissed from the door to the garage. "Before we wake someone up. That someone being Nancy. You know she's gonna be pissed off when she finds out about this."

"Respectfully," Mare spat. "Fuck Nancy. Who put her in charge here? I'll fight her."

"Yeah we have a literal zombie tied to a chair," Steve scoffed. Unexpectedly, your curiosity was piqued and your mind began to race. "There aren't rules for this."

"Funny you say that," you took a step forward, closer to Billy, whose head hung limply as he took calculated breaths. As if he'd never taken a breath before now.

"What, there are rules?"

"Yes and no. More like...guidelines." You waved a hand dismissively. "And I meant...more your use of the word zombie. The origin of...zombie...is--"

"Listen, you gave us a lesson in vampires and resurrection last night too. But does it really matter?" Robin questioned.

You paused and looked around the garage.

Four faces stared at you expectantly, as though they were simply waiting for the next thing to happen. No silly lore, no story, no explanation of what would come next. Dustin and Mare looked curious enough, but it had been a long day and a longer night. They didn't have the patience.

For a moment, you were transported again.

Reminded of another life. Other lives.

One lonelier, so much lonelier. Twenty-some-odd years spent so obviously separate from everyone else, mostly silent as decisions were made for you; thoughts and opinions and words buried deep that would never matter because your fate was already written. And then another, where you were seen and understood. Your silly stories were shared and embraced. Appreciated and loved. Not just by one person, by many...but because of one person.

It had been years since you had walked away from it...but had taken just as long, it took until right this second, to resign yourself that you might never have it again.

You shot a tight, apologetic smile at the others and then crouched down in front of Billy. You gently called his name.

"Can you hear me?" You asked. "Billy?"

He groaned and raised his head weakly, his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused until they landed on you. He fought against the restraints for a moment, but you held your hands out to try and calm him.

"Don't...we have you tied up, but don't be afraid. It's just a precaution. You're safe here."

His shoulders heaved for a moment but he relaxed.

"Good. Now...we have some questions. Do you know where you are?" You looked at the others and then back at him. "Do you know who you are? Recognize anyone here?"

He stared at you.

"Billy?"

Just kept staring.

"This is going nowhere," Steve sighed.

"No, no, it's disorienting," you explained. "Give it a second. How long has he been dead for? Two years? Almost three?”

“His body doesn’t look like Barb’s.” Robin noted. "Or Heather’s or Chrissy’s or—”

“Ok now you want to hear what I have to say?" you snarked, and you almost apologized when Billy's lip quirked the slightest bit. Then it was gone.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

So there was something inside--someone--with a sense of humor.

You thought back through what you'd seen in Max's memories.

Billy wasn't...he wasn't a joker. Could he be? With friends and people he felt safe with, sure. Would he laugh at the expense of people he saw as lesser than him? As a way to bolster his own confidence? Yes. And could you say that the people in this room were definitely ones he would target for his own sense of security.

But this wasn't that.

Those empty eyes--abyss-like with blown pupils--stared at you still as you shifted, they followed you...and you froze. It was microscopic, barely noticeable if you hadn't been looking right into his eyes.

You'd seen that before.

The demogorgon. How it had followed you. Disinterested in the hunt, in Wayne. Specifically gunning for you.

It had reached for you. Just like Billy did before he collapsed.

"Kas?" you questioned, and without even looking, you could sense everyone else in the room stiffen. The air grew tense; a shift in the mood. "It's you in there right? How are you doing that?"

He blinked.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps.

Not an answer, per se, but enough of one.

"That's a neat trick," you goaded, hoping to maybe get a little more than just a blink. "Can you do that to all of them? Or just this one? The empty ones."

No reaction this time.

You stood to your full height and he watched. Watched as you paced, so purposefully. In a human body once again, instead of a demogorgon, but akin to a predator tracking its prey.

In those dark depths, there was need. Hunger.

But you had a need too. Kas was challenging you, had been, and you needed to win.

You were suddenly determined to get something from this revelation. Could you get him to bend? Get him to break? Reveal his hand unintentionally.

Victory so sweet you could taste it.

"You don't like me, do you? Is that why you're sending your pets after me?" Billy blinked, his eyes widened. "You want me? You have me. It's ok, you don't need to talk. I can still hear you loud and clear."

"Uhhh..." Dustin timidly piped up from the door. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, if...if Kas really can see everything--"

"It's fine," you dismissed.

Mary Victoria huffed beside you.

"Listen, you might as well talk," she said to Billy, to Kas. "Give us something. You're not going anywhere, and it's not like we're gonna break your knees or anything."

It was a joke. Of course it was a joke, it was how she dealt with stressful situations. But...it got you thinking.

"I mean, we could," you whispered.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin all reacted harshly, admonishing you, asking if you'd lost your mind. And maybe you had. For a brief moment, the memory of the minotaur's skull, mouth open in a perpetual scream, flashed before your eyes.

But triumph was too tempting.

So you locked that memory away. Used it as a motivation even. Worse things had been done for lesser causes. This was...

What was it?

What were you fighting for anymore? For Hawkins? For Eddie? For yourself?

...this was war.

"I mean he's tied up," you gestured to him. "Just like Mare said. Might as well."

"I don't know what you are besides...absolutely bonkers," Robin dismissed you, then looked to Mare. "But aren't you a nun? Aren't you supposed to...not...commit sins or something."

"I'm a novice," Mare shrugged. "I'll say a few Hail Mary's, it'll all be ok."

"That's...it's still Billy's body," Dustin tried to reason with you. "We're not here to torture him."

"Why not, maybe he can give us answers?" Mare disagreed.

"No!" Steve immediately tried to step between you and Billy, especially as he saw your hand reach for the knife on your belt. "No torture. That's not gonna give us answers; that's just gonna hurt him."

"What do you care?" you scoffed.

"He's a person. He's innocent."

Anger burned through you at the hypocrisy. Sure Billy was innocent when you wanted to take control of the situation, but they had no problem tying him up because of the potential danger.

"Billy is a vessel," you explained through gritted teeth. "A vessel for Kas. Just a suit. He isn't in there. Do you know that? None of you want to hear my explanations...fine. But just trust me...there isn't enough of Billy left spread across the entire universe for him to be in there. But Kas is. And we need answers. So I'm gonna get them."

"Then you're gonna go through me," Steve challenged you.

"Through us," Robin agreed and stepped beside him.

You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists.

"We don't have time for this."

"What if it's just a big misunderstanding," Dustin interjected again. "What if he's trying to get a message to us."

"What kind of message?" Mare questioned curiously.

"Fat fucking chance," you scoffed. "He's killing people. You said it yourself, he wants out. He's hungry. What's he gonna do if he can get to this side? Boom. Feast."

"No, Henderson's right," Steve agreed but you wouldn't be stopped.

"You were all for hunting him down a few hours ago."

"We were going to hunt the undead. The ones attacking the town."

"One chance at guessing who sends them to attack the town in the first place."

"Maybe he's just trying to get information from us in return? To make a plan?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah," Steve snapped his fingers at Robin in agreement. "Maybe that's all it is. He wants to get a message out. Wants to communicate and get information and make a plan but he chose Billy Hargrove and he's having a rough go of it. So why don't you just...do that thing? Jump into his mind. Talk to him that way. Like you did with Max."

"M-Max?"

The tension in the room broke and everyone looked at Billy.

Something changed.

You watched the transition happen, as one pupil constricted, then the other.

"M-m-Max," he stammered.

As his cheeks flushed. As Kas gave up control...and something else gained it back.

"No," you shook your head, unwilling to accept defeat. You pushed through Steve and Robin, and dove for Billy. You grabbed the sides of his head and looked directly into his eyes.

You clawed your way in. Desperately. Savagely. As though something deep inside of you yearned for it. And you knew you could do it, because he did it.

You became Billy Hargrove, for the briefest of moments.

You had met him once.

Met was a generous term.

A halloween party Eddie had dragged you to, one where Billy had behaved abysmally and then got too drunk to know up from down. You had seen him slip in the kitchen, heard the thunk when he hit the floor, and it had only been your intention to go and see if he needed help.

But when you touched his skin...the hollowness you felt there...it shook you.

A man fully living shouldn't have been hollow in that way.

Eddie had warned you after the encounter to stay as far away from Billy as you could, some irrational fear of the danger he might bring. But your fear of that hollowness had been enough to make you agree. 

He was dangerous...a man...and, you thought, a beast.

After you'd had enough time to process it though--after you'd encountered more people and gained life experience--you had come to an explanation. You likened it to scratches in wood, deep divots that had been carved out of his being, either by sadness or cruelty, his own or others you couldn't know. 

He was not hollow, it was just that someone had taken a little too much of him than his being could withstand giving.

You'd met plenty of people like that in your travels. Untouched by the supernatural, simply...irreparably damaged by the fact that they were too human to keep going.

Pair that with what you'd seen in Max's head, and it was no wonder he'd been an easy target for Vecna's dark ambitions.

It was why you had been wary of touching him when he collapsed on the grave. If he was already empty before he died...what would you find?

Now though...you had touched him. Dove into the depths of his mind, in a different way than you had with Max. You didn't just brush the edge of his mind to search his thoughts, you needed to be amongst his very being.

And lo...nothing again.

In fact, less than nothing...worse than nothing.

You were empty...empty...dying. Your limbs felt heavy and weak.

Then you realized.

You weren't breathing.

You took a deep breath and it felt like your lungs had expanded for the first time in centuries. They were stiff and crackling. Even so, the dank, stale air felt like a relief to breathe.

After several breaths you took stock of yourself. Not dying anymore. Living. Again.

You looked down at yourself; you still had some visage that was your own but when you clenched your hands, you couldn't feel. You watched your fingers move, willed them to do so, but couldn't feel the movement.

You wondered if it was a side effect of the resurrection. What did the dead feel after they died? Their spirits, you knew. Their bodies, a mystery.

Until Billy.

What a curious thing though...

He had already been emptied so thoroughly before he died. What was left to put back so he could return to the land of the living? What had come out of the grave with his body? What had Kas scratched from the bottom of the proverbial barrel to put back into him to get him to rise again?

You observed your surroundings then. You were in a desolate hallway, dark and filled with doors. They were all open, broken, and hanging off their hinges. Abandoned. Empty. Akin to something twisted and surreal that Dali might have imagined.

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind you--in front of you? Direction didn't exist here--and you spun to try and find the source.

There.

An open door with a faint light shining through it. You caught the slightest glimpse of a clawed hand grasping the door jamb before it disappeared within.

Fight or flight activated, you were quick to the chase.

Kas was here. He was still in here.

The ground beneath your feet was uneven, unstable. With no sense of self, you kept faltering, and you knew you couldn't continue to exist in this place for very long.

There were no physical limitations here, however. So you could cross great distances much faster than in the real world, and you reached the door much quicker than you might have in the real world.

You were gonna catch him, confront him, kill him right here and now.

But when you crossed through the threshold, you found...yourself.

Not a reflection; an actual duplicate of you.

All of your sense of urgency and anger dissolved.

And in its place, confusion took over.

She looked worn and disheveled. Clothes ripped. Split lip. Legs shaking as though it took all the effort in the world to stand.

Both of your eyes widened at the recognition of one another but before either of you could say anything, that clawed hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her through a tear in the ether. Her mouth opened in silent protest, her hand reached out, and she was gone.

And so was Kas.

The frustration returned and you let out a roar of expletives, ready to tear the room apart.

Only for a faint sound to capture your attention.

Across from you was another doorway...another room with brighter light this time. Almost blinding. Sun shining through an actual window.

You slowly crossed the distance and found a familiar figure crumpled on the floor, breath shallow, ropes around his wrists. He weakly tried to get to his feet and you did nothing but watch.

Your focus had been so singularly on Kas that you didn't realize that Billy would be in here too. A remnant. A revenant. His spirit torn...just like your own mirrored visage had been.

You rushed to help him, and when you did, you glanced through the window and saw yourself again. Bigger this time. Time frozen. Eyes locked.

Strange.

In your arms, Billy stirred.

"Who..." he spoke weakly, head resting on your shoulder. "Where..."

"It's ok," you reassured him, your conflicting emotions forgotten temporarily. "It'll be ok."

You summoned the strength inside of you, hoping you could access your body out there from...whatever you were in here, and you poured the healing light into him, until he could stand on his own.

Until he could scream.

"Max!"

You wrenched your hands away as you were thrown back into your body. Steve and Robin grabbed you as you backed away and Billy started struggling against the restraints again.

"Max, Max,” his voice got clearer and stronger. “Where is she? Is she safe?”

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes and pulled at the handcuffs. To everyone's surprise, the metal gave just the tiniest bit.

"We really should have used the duct tape," Robin muttered.

"Billy, everything's ok," Mary Victoria stepped around you and attempted to soothe him. She shot him a gentle smile and held her hands out in front of her to show she meant no harm. "Max is alright. She's at home. Safe."

He took a few deep breaths, eyes darting between hers, before he relaxed. He hung his head again.

"I don't...don't..." He made a whining noise. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mare repeated. "What don't you know?"

"She cried over me. But I don't know her. Who is Max?"

Mare whipped around to look at you and you sighed wearily and shook your head. You didn't even know what to think at this point.

Clearly everything you knew was wrong.

"What do you remember then Billy?" she asked.

"I..." his brow furrowed in concentration.

Contemplation.

"Don't," you spoke up and his gaze shot to you, then to your knife, and back. You shrugged Robin and Steve off of you and held your hands out just like Mare did. "Don't strain yourself. It'll happen when it happens."

He nodded and wet his lips.

"I remember...Max hurt me too," he began. "Before. I scared her and she hurt me. Why did I do that?"

"What else?" Robin asked.

"The...I think he was here." Billy nodded over to Steve. "And I hurt him. I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Shit, never thought I'd hear Billy Hargrove apologize," Steve muttered in disbelief.

"Shut up Dingus."

"The beach. And a woman. A room...a diner. Silly Billy."

You'd heard that before too...an echo of the human parts of Billy that had been present in '84, despite the great gouges inside of him.

"She called me her Silly Billy."

"And you," he nodded towards you, and then his eyes got stormy. "And Eddie."

Mare looked to you again.

"Eddie, that's your..."

"My boyfriend, yeah," you nodded. "Halloween a few years ago. Eddie...roughed him up a little bit. Why would you remember that though?"

"Because it hurt," Billy strained, his voice hoarse. And despite the hoarseness, there was a clarity there. An understanding that you simply couldn't fathom he possessed given his state. But he did. And you know it was because Kas made him aware, and that simple fact burned you.

"What else would he let me remember?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know...a lot of things."

"About Billy?"

"...no."

There was a pause and the mattress glub-glubbed as Mary Victoria shifted on the waterbed.

"About Eddie?" she asked, peeking down at you as you laid on the floor.

"No," you responded truthfully, startled that it was probably the first time he wasn't on your mind. "About Kas."

She sighed.

"Listen, maybe you need to let this Kas thing go," she offered. "Focus on fixing things here first. That was your plan right? To help get Hawkins back on its feet."

"I can only fix things here if I stop him," you replied. "Otherwise he's just gonna make them worse again. And he knows it. That's why he's after me now."

"After you?"

"You heard me before, when he was...possessing Billy. He's sending things after me. To kill me, probably. One of the vampires--"

"I thought you said they weren't vampires."

"--and then a demogorgon when I was out visiting Wayne. And now...now Billy himself."

"Why?"

"I'm a thorn in his side, why else?"

"Could be anything else," Mare offered. She was quiet for a moment, then she continued. "Maybe you think he wants to stop you. What if Dustin is right? What if he needs you? What if he needs your help too?"

"Then he could ask! What are these games, just ask for my help. Simple as that." You watched as she gnawed at her lip. "What is it?"

"I don't...I don't know. I have a theory. Maybe. I just need to think through it for a little bit. Let it bubble like a stew. Could be something; is probably nothing. But maybe this...this is all he can do. He's calling, you're just not listening."

You stared at each other for a moment, and she looked incredibly unsure of herself. You could sense the words that were coming next. Forget it, forget I said anything and you stopped her before she could.

"Maybe you're right," you admitted with a sigh. "I know I was quick to jump on the let's kill Kas train of thought. But can you blame me? There are rules. And he's breaking them."

"He probably doesn't know them."

"You're right, probably not. But neither do you." It was your turn to feel apprehensive now. Guilty. Instead of defensive; you turned into a bitch when you got defensive. "How are you doing? I haven't checked on you really. I'm sorry."

"You've only been a fucking mess yourself," Mare sniffed judgmentally and then winked. "Can't really blame you though. I'm...handling it."

"Not overwhelmed yet?"

"Most certainly overwhelmed," she disagreed. "But not enough to quit."

"Good."

"You can make it up to me next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah...you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"And what if I die here Mare?" The words escaped your mouth instinctually before you realized they had, and you both froze. You especially, your mind going a million miles an hour. "I mean..."

What did you mean?

What did you mean?

"You know, this whole thing...this whole curse is supposed to end in fire for me anyway," you shrugged. "It could happen any time and this...Hawkins is personal. I know I'm not being as careful as I would any other time. I mean, look at me already. What if I die here?

"What if...what if your theory...whatever it is...is wrong? What if everyone is wrong and Kas just needs to be stopped and I'm not strong enough and I die?"

You said it all in one breath and heaved by the time it was all out.

"Are you afraid?" she asked after a beat. "Of death?"

"Not enough to stop doing this dumb shit, apparently."

"You said you wanted...wanted to break this curse...for Eddie."

"I do."

"So are you afraid of dying? Of leaving him? Is that why you're telling me?"

"I'm afraid..." you paused. "I'm afraid I've brought you all this way and I'm gonna leave you to fend for yourself. I'm afraid that I'm gonna leave Hawkins worse off than I found it. I'm afraid...I'm afraid of leaving him alone because losing me will hurt him more."

She reached out a hand and you met her halfway to grasp it. Tightly. Desperately.

And you thought...you thought she'd do what she had been doing. Thought that she would offer some comfort or some words of wisdom to make you feel better.

He's in Heaven and he's waiting. He's waiting for you.

"What if he isn't in Heaven?" she asked, face entirely serious. She gripped your hand tightly. "What if he's in Hell? And all of this...is for nothing? You do all of this...you break your curse...and you're still alone?"

You could hear them then, a thousand years of your bloodline screaming what should have been the answer in your ears. Your grandfather. Your father. Fuck, even your grandmother who had no curse upon her but spent her life and all her goodness to prevent your damnation.

And then you thought of Wayne…his words. The way you tried to deny them.

“Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

Your throat tightened, but the response was easy.

"I guess I'll see him in Hell then."

You'd never seen him cry before.

Well, you had.

But not here. Not in this place.

Seeing the blood drip down his cheeks shook you to the core.

"Was it not enough?" he sniffed pathetically. "Why wasn't it enough?"

What could you say to that?

There would never be enough.

Not until you could save him. If you could ever save him.

How could you fill an empty cup...when the pitcher was empty too?

He roared when he didn't receive an answer, startling you.

"What did you expect to happen?" you asked wearily. Even if you couldn't help him, you could attempt to alleviate his woes. Just like you always had. That was your purpose: a balm to his soul, a buffer. "You couldn't control the others at the beginning."

"And I can't control them now either, can I?"

"They're willful."

"Aren't they."

"But so are you." He scoffed, but you continued. "And you're cunning. You have a plan."

"You have plans. Plans that fail, if you haven't noticed." He slashed at you with his claws, lashing out, but you appeared on the other side of him instead.

"You just need to try again," you offered sagely.

"And what good would that do?"

That was when the tide changed.

You'd been through if before but...there was no before that was quite like this. Something was so minutely different this time that you didn't realize it until it was too late.

His mind raced, his mouth raced faster, as he voiced his thoughts and put them forth into this dastardly dimension. If things were better, it would have reminded you of all the times he voiced his harebrained schemes. All of the silly little plans he had for the two of you.

Instead, they began to take shape, dark tangible things that you simply couldn't keep up with. Couldn't put to sleep as fast as they were brought to life.

Further and further into temptation--desperation--he went, and the more you tried to hold him back, the more he resisted.

You thought it was him, succumbing to the darkness once again. Drifting over the edge but then the realization came.

It was you.

"Why are you still here? Why? You act like you're here to help... but you're a burden. You've...you've ruined it. Ruined everything! I have to fix it. I have to."

He slashed again and you could suddenly feel it. For the first and only time. You felt it carve through you. Not painfully, not really. But the space where he would have run you through...disappeared.

You disappeared.

You'd done it on purpose before. Countless times. Disappeared into the void of him. Back where you belonged. But this time...this time he made you go. He dispelled you.

How long had it been, how long had you tried. How much had you given to him, to sustain him, with no hope of ever getting it back. He took from you. Took and took and took. It could have been a day or an eternity.

Suddenly there's no possible way to cling onto this reality, to hold him back from careening over the edge into darkness. Because you found yourself falling as well.

Lost.

You tried to do it on your own for so long, but now it was truly the end. You'd always known it would come. You'd worked so hard, you hoped you could save him before it came to this.

You needed her now...just as much as he did.

Lost.

You reached out one last time as his shoulders heaved, as the thick red tears ran rivers down his skin. Fingers brushed over his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips.

A farewell.

You melted into him one last time; you'd wait until you were well enough to return, whole once again.

You could rest now. What a relief.

Lost.

October 14, 1987

Having an alliance with others was a strange concept to you.

Although you did most of your work alone, it was not out of the realm of possibility to have a partner from time to time. Partner. Singular. They were few and far between, though. And for all intents and purposes, in Hawkins, that was Mary Victoria.

Your right-hand-man, your conscience when you were led astray, responsible to make sure the other didn't get killed.

Now, suddenly, there was a whole team that had your back. Mare, obviously...but Steve, Dustin, and Robin too.

It felt like an episode of the Brady Bunch.

Was this what it felt like to have siblings?

"Friends," Mare rolled her eyes when you made the comment to her. "They're called friends."

For an entire day, you all lurked around the Harrington's with the acute knowledge that you had a shared secret and that you'd have each other's backs any time someone potentially came close to finding it out.

Steve was the main person to run out to the garage whenever someone needed something. It was his house, after all; no one questioned it if he wanted to roam around at will or if he wanted some areas off limits.

Food was the next hurdle; Claudia did a great job working with limited supplies to feed an entire house of friends and neighbors. But sneaking an entire extra helping was challenging. Dustin was often the person to keep his mother distracted while extra bits of mashed potatoes or casserole were scooped onto a plate. And then you and Mare brought the food out to Billy, taking turns feeding him and keeping watch.

You all had agreed that you needed to keep him tied up and in the garage. It was just too risky, especially with Kas potentially lurking somewhere deep in his mind.

But Billy barely said anything when you went to visit, barely even acknowledged someone else was there short of opening his mouth for a bite of food.

Mare wondered, at first, if that meant Kas was back. It didn't take much for you to realize that no, Billy was the only one in there. He was just...disinterested. Disoriented.

Recollecting the mismatched pieces of a puzzle that he had no idea how to put back together.

He had moments of recollection sometimes, as he began to shuffle those pieces around. He'd make...parts of a picture, but not enough to discern anything truly useful. He'd ask about people sometimes. Mostly about Max. Ask if he could see her, which Steve harshly declined.

"Not a chance," he scoffed. "You think I'm gonna let him near Max? Any of those kids? After everything they've been through? Over my dead body."

"Maybe it'll help," Mare suggested. "With the memories. To see his sister. For them to talk."

"You wanna know the first time I knew Billy was Max's brother? Hmm?" Steve put his hands on his hips and looked at her expectantly. "When he beat the shit out of me, could've killed me. Max had to knock him out with a tranquilizer to get him to stop."

"Holy shit."

"So no, even though he seems innocent...different, he's not getting near those kids."

And then Billy would go nearly catatonic once again, back to shuffling the pieces around until he could make sense of himself again.

Another meal. Another bout of silent chewing and half-present responses. Another opportunity for Mare to try and coax him out of his shell.

"It takes time," you explained.

"How much time?"

"I...I don't know. Enough."

"Well," Mare sighed and loaded up a spoon to feed him. "Guess we're just gonna have to help him get there." From that point, she always tried to get a response out of him.

Mainly, by making airplane noises as she fed him.

"It's funny," she defended.

"It's infantilizing," you chuckled from your place at the door.

"I mean...it's still kinda funny," she shrugged, sending another biplane full of pot roast and veggies onto the next mission in Billy's digestive tract.

"We don't need funny. We need him to see he can trust us." You looked past her at Billy then, realizing that he might have been sick of being spoken about as if he wasn't just sitting there. "You can trust us, you know? When you're ready."

He just blinked at you.

"Maybe...maybe to start feeling alive again, he just needs to hear our life stories too," she sat up straight and cleared her throat. "Hi Billy. My name is Mary Victoria. I was born in a small town in Nebraska--"

And on it went.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two whole days.

You bounced around different topics, trying to get Billy to react to something. Anything. California, sports, the supernatural, politics, action movies, musicals. And he did. Sometimes there were just sighs or a huff that sounded adjacent to a laugh. No rhyme or reason to what it was he reacted to. Just...a reaction.

Better than nothing.

“…and then Mr. Perkins said 'nobody waves anymore' and Steve joked 'it's because we're not near the ocean.' And I thought it was funny," Mare put her hand on her chest. "But Robin just rolled her eyes."

Billy made a long-suffering sigh as he chewed his creamed spinach.

"I know, it wasn't funny," you agreed with him, then you glanced over at her. "It wasn't funny."

"It was! I like corny jokes!"

"Obviously."

"Do you think they're dating?" she asked, suddenly, out of left field. "Robin and Steve?"

"Uhhhh."

You didn't really know how to respond to that. Billy, the most reactive that he had been in the past few days, scoffed. Or sneezed maybe.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, they seem close," she shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at her. "He's cute. I wouldn't put it past him to have a girlfriend or something. End of the world and all...and there's this...I don't know it's gonna sound silly."

"What is it?"

"Ok, disclaimer, I'm not going crazy." She pointed at you in warning. "Remember that. I just...whenever they're around each other, there's this string. It isn't there. I don't see it. But it's...I just know it's there. I notice it with a lot of people, actually. Especially here."

Interesting.

"What kind of answer do you want?" you asked her and leaned back in your chair. "The one you want to hear or the long one?"

Mare groaned and rolled her head back.

"Knight Lesson 102," you offered her. "Or, more fitting, like...Nun Graduation Revelation."

"But moooommmmm." She stomped her feet a little. "Can you do a worse job of reminding me that I'm not supposed to feel any kind of...attraction towards anyone. Married to God and all of that."

"You didn't take your vow yet."

"Whose. Side. Are. You. On!"

She clapped to emphasize every word.

"Long answer first," you began with a laugh. "Everyone here has a connection that spans what the eye can see. Those strings you feel, did you also feel them between Steve and Dustin? Robin and Nancy? Hell, even between us and them now, those bonds are forming.

"The Moche civilization in Peru believed that your life-force flowed through you and into others the more you shared yourself with them. And vice versa. Through conversation, through dance, through love and friendship. You make connections with everyone you meet and become a complex web of the people whose lives you touch. It's what gives us empathy."

"So that means I'm still connected with my douche ex. Great."

"Yes and no. Yes, because he's left his mark on your life and you wouldn't be you without him. But also no because you both severed that tie a long time ago."

She seemed to accept that answer.

"What about Robin and Steve then?"

"Do I think they're dating?" You asked for clarity and she nodded. "I don't know, how could I? But you can sense their bond is stronger than others, right? I thought they were siblings when I felt the connection between them. I think they just...will walk through life on a shared path for a very long time."

"Sounds like fate," she snorted. "Or soulmates or something."

"Soul..." Billy rasped, the unexpected sound causing you both to jump.

He jolted in his chair against the restraints, coughing and spitting and gagging. The convulsions lead to all manner of bodily sounds emanating from him.

"What the..!" Mare exclaimed. "What's happening to him?

"I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't know."

The anticipation was the worst. In fact, you anticipated the worst. You had thought, initially, that it was Kas trying to jump back into his body, and you could be ready at the very least. Ready to confront him, ready to jump back into Billy's mind in order to grasp Kas with your own two hands.

But you didn't anticipate nearly enough.

The food came up first. Days worth of food. It wasn't Exorcist-adjacent pea soup; it was undigested, save for chewing, and mostly whole. It spewed from his mouth violently and you both backed away as chunks landed near your feet.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Can you heal him or something?"

"I can try."

"Yes, please, try. Jesus fucking Christ."

You took a step forward, hand already outstretched so you could take a hold of him, but he spewed the last bits of foot and bile, right in your path and you jumped before it could hit you.

The dirt was next. He choked on it before he erupted.

Dust, then pebbles, then thick clumps of wet earth. It clatters and splats all around you. You dodged a hailstorm of bits and pieces, the likes of which would put the blast of Mount Saint Helens to shame, and then watched in horror as a slow, constant flow rolled and dripped from his mouth. Like magma.

Tears flowed down his cheeks and he spat to clear his airway, only for more gravel to be expelled.

"Are we sure he isn't the Antichrist or something?" Mare grabbed your arm, and pulled you back to her. To protect you or herself, you couldn't be sure.

"That isn't a thing." Although you couldn't be sure of that either.

"Then how do you explain all of this? What the hell is happening?"

You didn't know. It was beyond you.

You tried to race through everything that you'd read and heard of and seen. Dream interpretation and superstitions and cautionary tales. Your mind conjured images, interpretations of God vomiting angels and expelling them from Heaven and into Hell, another of Him spewing dirt to create the Earth itself, and a third of Zeus freeing his siblings from the belly of the dreadful Kronos.

Let alone the symbolism. You didn't have time to analyze all of it.

If you had a hundred years, if you could stop the flow of time, maybe you could come up with some idea of what this was and how to stop it.

"Help me!" He sobbed around mouthfuls of dirt and dust. "Please."

Instead you needed to act, react, as fast as you could.

"Help him!" Mary Victoria screamed.

You took the steps forward again to try and use your healing power to stop this, but you recoiled for the briefest of seconds, as Billy's eyes dilated again and blood began to leak from his dear ducts.

Kas.

But Billy wrenched his eyes shut and screamed, deep and guttural and painful.

"GET OUT!"

You didn't hesitate to take two fingers, slot them into his forehead, jamming his third eye chakra.

"Sleep," you commanded.

And his eyes rolled back in his head as his body stilled.

You left your fingers there, as the last little bits of dirt dripped from Billy's mouth and bounced down his chest and to the ground. You tried to feel him, heal him, but you felt...

Nothing.

His body was still, you couldn't fathom where the dirt and the Earth came from. There was no supernatural cause. The fragmented pieces of him remained as intact as they could be; he, for all intents and purposes, was whole. Even the connection to Kas in his mind had been severed, you felt no pathway leading to the Upside Down or its Master.

Strange.

You wondered if it had anything to do with his resurrection, if somehow the act of crawling from the ground had caused something to settle within Billy that he needed to regurgitate to finally and fully return to life. Maybe if you touched the wet earth that had been expelled from him you could feel some kind of psychometric evidence of its origins. And know what had caused it. The way God could feel Abel's blood scream from the earth after it was spilt.

Was this how Kas had resurrected all of them? Had their rebirths been just as violent?

Frantic footsteps made it to your ears then, voices clamoring over one another at the door. You and Mary Victoria turned as the knob jiggled and Dustin and Steve's voice overlapped with another.

You expected a shitstorm. An argument.

You expected Nancy.

You steeled yourself for her. Expected her. Hardened your heart so that you didn't burn with the sting of her venom.

But as the door was thrown open, all you saw was betrayal in a pair of innocent eyes.

"What on Earth," Claudia stared at the scene before her, horrified, her attention unable to fully land on one thing, "is happening here?"

And you didn't know what was scarier.

Everything you had just witnessed.

Or her disappointment.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ok so maybe I'm not but you don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s better if I do.”

“No one asked you to go. You don’t have to do this self-sacrificing thing.” Mary Victoria snorted.

“This isn’t self-sacrifice,” you retorted. Hands on hips, you turned to her. “Or have you not read the Bible. Exile. It’s kind of a thing.”

Claudia was…concerned.

Disappointed, yes, that you all had kept Billy a secret. But concern was the main reaction once you’d all sat down to explain how he came to be in the Harringtons garage.

And alive.

She didn���t raise her voice, didn’t yell. She wasn’t angry.

She wrung her hands and her voice wavered as she formulated questions and responses. Her eyes kept sliding over to Dustin, who would take her hand in his and reassure her.

It’s ok mom. We have a plan. Don’t be afraid.

Claudia looked to everyone for confirmation. To Steve and Robin, even Mare. But when she got to you, her eyes only held betrayal.

You were good at what you did. Probably, no one had really ever told you that you were shit. Cursed? Yes. A snarky bitch, a meddler, a loudmouth, etcetera etcetera. But bad at defeating darkness? Never.

You knew you could protect innocents. But what was the point if you didn't...protect innocence.

And that’s when you decided you needed to go. To give them some space without your bullshit.

“Self imposed.” Mare rolled her eyes. “Like an asshole.”

“It's really not the insult you think it is,” you explained. “I’m just going to stay with Wayne. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to take Billy on a drive and maybe knock a few marbles loose—”

“Careful. He doesn’t have that many marbles to begin with.”

“—then we can continue the work on your Knight lessons ok?”

"And save Hawkins?" she followed up and you shot her a strained smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"Stick close with the people we trust," you nodded towards the group of your friends who had congregated at the door to witness your temporary exodus. "Don't let them do anything to Billy, and most importantly, keep yourself safe."

"I thought you'd be back tomorrow."

"A lot can happen in one night."

You threw your bag into the backseat of your car and Mare pulled you into a hug.

"You be careful too, ok? No going out after curfew, even if you see something shiny luring you out into the woods," she cautioned.

"I'll be f--"

"You're incapable of staying out of trouble. And I know if you're not careful you're gonna get yourself killed. It's like you're tempted by danger or something."

"Who's the mom now," you joked.

"Shut up."

And then you were off. Back across Hawkins to Wayne and Lover's Lake.

You forewent the radio this time, opting to drive in silence and listen to the whistling wind and any potential wing flapping. The whole radio feedback misfiring happened twice more since the little mishap with Sympathy for the Devil and you decided that 3 strikes so music was just off the table for you for the foreseeable future. And as much as you'd like to have listened to Fats Waller crooning on that old mixtape Eddie made you, about how dark and stormy it was inside this heart of mine, you listened to the distant thunder as an actual storm moved in instead.

"Great," you muttered and stepped on the gas a little faster so you wouldn't have rain pelting you in the face, thanks to your non-existent windshield.

That was gonna be a bitch to fix.

The windshield, probably part of the frame. On top of the air conditioning was already long gone and the heat on its last leg. Power steering had gone out once as you were driving through the Rockies. That had been fun to find a place to fix.

You were just old enough to remember your grandfather bringing the car home, brand new. Of course at that time you didn't understand. You just liked standing on the bench seat with your hands on the steering wheel going vroom vroom. The whole family took a drive.

It felt like such a normal memory in comparison to...literally the rest of your life.

Then a few weeks later, he was gone. And so was your dad, replaced by your father.

Nonna wore a set of black robes that first year--from which, came the tasseled cord belt that hung from the rearview mirror--to mourn her husband and son, and then to dedicate herself to your salvation. And Mom had been the one who started taking the car out for joyrides to escape from her bleak reality instead. She’d taught you how to drive, taught you how to question your faith--question yourself--in the car.

It was a strange, contradictory symbol of destiny, denial, and devotion.

And then when you skipped town, temporarily dodged your fate, the car became your problem.

Your problem that was now navigating broken streets and taking detours to avoid another fissure that seemed to have opened up overnight.

That wasn't there a few days ago...

In fact several streets seemed to be inaccessible when they'd just been clear just the other night. And the further you got in your detour, the worse it got, until the road seemed to literally shake and split right beneath your tires.

"What the fuck," you muttered as you swerved around a crack that was actively forming beneath you. "Why do I feel like I've jinxed myself? A lot can happen in one night. Fuck me."

Your headlights flickered and thunder cracked overhead.

And as you rounded another bend, your car, quite literally, died.

It was like a wave, a tangible spark, an electrical overload. The headlights flickered, and the radio turned on of its own volition and wavered to an ear-splitting screech that almost, almost sounded like your name, and then it died. Everything died. An audible power down of the electrical system before your engine sputtered out and your car rolled to a stop on the side of the road by some trees.

You turned the key in the ignition. Once, twice, stepped on the pedal. Nothing.

Until your right hand began to tingle. Burn.

You wrenched your hand off the key and used your other hand to press down into the space between your life and head lines, trying to massage out the pain. It felt...beyond your being. It felt heavy. There was something in there. A weight. Could you dig it out? Dig a hole into your hand and dig the hot burning thing out?

You were a fan of horror movies, of action movies. Media was one of the few indulgences that you were allowed to have growing up. Books and movies instead of friends. Breaks in between learning about real life fantasies and terrors to entertain yourself with made up ones.

It made things a little boring sometimes, sure. You always knew when a jumpscare was about to happen. Could tell when the plot was about to reach a climax. You'd ruined a few movies for Eddie and the guys before. Even spoiled one for your own father on the rare occasion he'd been around.

So it almost felt too predictable that the broken ground just a few yards away from you began to split further. As the smoke emanated from it. As the gate began to pulse and glow ominously, in time with the heavy, burdensome pain in your hand.

As a clawed hand slithered over the edge.

"Well shit," you cursed through gritted teeth. You kicked open the door and rounded on the trunk. You fumbled with the latch with one hand, threw it open and then dug. You'd already fucked around with your weapons the other day when you and the others went vampire hunting and then they'd all been thrown back in haphazardly.

You needed a stake, a knife, something.

"Least if I die here in Hawkins, I don't need to get another car."

A crucifix got tucked in the waistband of your jeans. The revolver loaded with silver bullets shoved back there too--what gun safety?--and you'd managed to shove the blade of a knife between your teeth to hold for a second, when you were assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

Wings flapped heavily, a jarring screech that made your blood run cold, and then the laughter.

It was taunting you.

Heavy footsteps dragged on the pavement, one after the other. Closer and closer.

"Are you hiding from me?" the reedy voice cooed patronizingly. "That's cute. You can't hide. Not when I can feel the fresh blood coursing through your veins."

There was a deep inhaling noise; slightly slurred, like a breath taken through clenched teeth. Then a loud flapping and suddenly the voice was on the other side of the car.

"Delicious."

Your eyes scanned over the contents of the trunk, thoughts swirling as you wondered how you could cause the most damage and buy yourself the most time.

If it was cruel irony that your car would die and you'd be attacked in the middle of the forest after you told Mare that a lot could happen in one night, then this was just some kind of karmic intervention.

The jar of peppers.

You knew it was a weird, unfamiliar thing that she'd just latched onto because she wasn't used to it and it seemed funny, but superstition was real. And a jar full of peppers, garlic, vinegar and holy water--maybe some other mystical whispers from 20 years ago thrown in if you were lucky--would surely do some damage.

You were almost sad Mare wouldn't be here to see it in action.

You grabbed it and shuffled closer to the edge of the trunk, as close as you could to peek to the side and witness him stalk closer to you.

A smug, elongated smile and demonic black eyes just like the others had. His skin was grey and stretched over his bones, and the tattered remnants of a sweater vest and chinos, of all things, adorned his body. One clawed hand was pulled back, as if ready for an attack as he got close enough, as were his wings.

And most prominently, a scar stretched across one cheekbone.

"Oh Fred," you taunted around the blade in your mouth. "I'm not a cheap date."

You shuffled to the side swiftly and threw the jar at him. It shattered upon impact with his head and doused him in the spicy, spiritual mixture, sizzling and burning his skin. Watching it filled you with a sense of triumph; finally, the slightest bit of an upper hand on Kas, who you were sure was behind this whole mishap.

He definitely was.

Fred was not as fragile as Barb had been though, and he already started to heal once the shock wore off, so you knew you had to act fast to finish him off.

Bloodthirsty, the revolver was in your hand before you could stop it and you let off one shot after another. They ripped through him, tore chunks from torso and his wings until you heard the click click click of the empty barrel.

You thought--you hoped--the handful of bullets would be enough and maybe you'd get lucky and puncture his heart.

Unfortunately you were not lucky. It wasn't even luck. You were not a good shot to begin with--as demonstrated by the fucking crossbow--and even if you were pretty ambidextrous, you favored your right hand. Which, thanks to the heavy nagging pain that coursed through it, meant you were at a disadvantage.

Still, Fred faltered and roared in agony as his body expelled the bullets. He tried to flee, but you wouldn't let him. His wings flapped uselessly when it came to flight but he still used them he propelled himself through the trees, with you close on his heels.

Thunder boomed overhead as you ran and it soon began to downpour. The dirt became mud and your sneakers slid as you pivoted and turned, struggling to keep up with him.

Despite being wounded, he would have the advantage. You were only human, despite your abilities. And you were a human that hated running. So all he had to do was flap his wings a little harder, or scurry up the trunk of a tree...and you'd lose him.

You slowed your pace and came to a stop, then noticed...your surroundings seemed familiar.

You wiped the rain from your face and looked around. The trees were less dense here; actually, several had been knocked down entirely, trunks covered in deep scratches and splinters. The forest floor covered in dead leaves. And there was one tree that looked...magical in and of itself. With moss and mushrooms and an assortment of sticks and...yarn.

A shelter against the elements, almost.

You jumped as something brushed against your leg and then you laughed to find a tiny little face looking up at you, entirely unamused at your antics. Big green eyes, whiskers twitching, grey fur damp with the rain; her tail flicked back and forth curiously. This was her kingdom, after all; why were you here?

"Hello," you muttered and wracked your brain for a minute. You'd met this cat before, early on in your relationship with Eddie; he'd taken you out here to meet her and her kittens, to feed them like he did with the other resident cats of Forest Hills. You'd made a joke, thanks to all of the downed trees, that she was some elusive cryptid.

"Don't need to knock down any trees when big, scary metalhead Eddie Munson is bringing you Chicken of the Sea, huh?"

"You wanna get married or something?"

"Fuck you Munson."

Your heart ached at the recollection, at the sweet innocent declaration that...that would never come to pass.

"Lucy," you cooed, basking in that memory. "Queen Lou."

You knelt down and offered your left hand in greeting, but she swiftly dodged and pressed her head into your right hand. The heavy pain and throbbing dissipated almost immediately as she nuzzled and purred. But the pain in your heart remained.

"You out here by yourself?" you asked. You looked around in realization; the trailer park must not have been far off. "Or did you come back here to see what the commotion was? Sorry about that."

Lucy lavished in your attention for a few moments, enjoying your scratches behind her soft, damp ears and then she startled. She turned, hackles raised and you were suddenly on alert too. Wings flapped wetly overhead and she bolted to chase after whatever creature fled.

"Shit," you muttered and began to follow. You might have joked that she was a monster but she was most certainly just a tiny little kitty. Definitely not equipped to fight an...undead bat thing.

But damn, she was quick.

The trees got more and more sparse until you were in the condemned remnants of the Forest Hills Trailer Park itself.

Fuck, it was bleak.

Out of all the damage you had seen in Hawkins, the aftermath of two "earthquakes," this was the worst.

Most of the buildings looked intact just...abandoned. Doors left open and swinging, laundry left to rot on the line. The brightly colored remnants of FEMA markers spraypainted on the sides of the trailers were especially vibrant against the grey sky. The ground was uneven and cracked, great plates of earth tilted this way and that to compensate for the thick, cavernous crack that carved through the center of the park. Soil was overturned and cursed smoke bled into the sky, though the rain kept it from rising too far.

You wondered if the veil between this world and the Upside Down was the thinnest here. This was, after all, the place where Vecna first punctured his way through with his Curse.

A hiss gained your attention and you kept going, following Lucy despite the dread getting larger in your chest. Further into the park until it opened a cavernous maw that bore your heart to the world as you found yourself in front of the Munson's half-destroyed trailer.

The frame of the trailer was shorn apart, walls and siding jagged as the origin point of the gate started in what used to be the living room. Wayne had confided in you, about Chrissy; how he'd found her body, mangled in a way that would forever be burned behind his eyelids.

You hadn't realized at the time that Chrissy had been the vampire from the square. The one who had tried to carry you away. Would it have taken some weight off his mind to know she was...alive? If you could call it that? Did he already know? Or would it add insult to injury knowing this was a worse fate for her?

A soft brrr and your eyes zeroed in on Lucy sitting on the counter in the kitchen, the open mouth of the trailer exposing it to the elements. She watched you for a second before she jumped off the counter and disappeared down the hall leading to Eddie's room.

It was then that the ghosts decided to appear.

You crawled up the side of the trailer, on the half-demolished porch steps and into the kitchen. There the two of you stood, huddled next to the stove, arms around each other as you waited for the water to boil for hot cocoa and marshmallows; so stupidly affectionate after making up from one of a dozen dumb fights. The ghosts disappeared as you passed, and suddenly there was no pan on the stove. There wasn't even a stove anymore. The wall of mugs gone. Even the doors on the cabinets were half-broken.

You continued down the hall, where you could hear your own fists pounding on the side door on that fateful night. After you crawled from the Earth after the tunnels collapsed, the only place you knew you'd find comfort was here. Was with Eddie.

Was that why Kas had chosen to resurrect Billy in such a way? To mirror your own ascent, crawling from Hell? Born anew?

The phantom of Eddie ran out of his bedroom and opened the door for you, and you collapsed against him sobbing. You watched as he held you, soothed you, wiped the dirt off your skin and promised it would all be ok. And as he kissed your forehead, they were gone.

There shouldn't have been electricity, it should have been the first thing FEMA cut off...but a light flickered in the bathroom.

On and off and on and off and on.

On. Off. On. Off. On.

On and off and on and off and on.

You stared at it, felt your throat get tight.

You blinked, hard, and the bulb over the sink exploded.

It wouldn't misfire anymore.

If only you'd have investigated that a little further, just to save yourself the heartache that awaited you in the bedroom.

Because as soon as you stepped over the threshold, you became overwhelmed. This was where you spent so much time together, why wouldn't the ghost be active and abundant here?

Sitting on the floor by the stereo listening to mixtapes. Sleeping, talking, writing, laughing. There was one of you pacing at the foot of the bed. One of him running through the door with a bag of McDonalds French fries for you to share. A set of you in the bed, limbs intertwined, whispering words of devotion as your bodies became one.

You stared at them the longest, eyes burning because you refused to blink.

Once you did they would be gone and you would be alone again. Alone with the person you hated the most in the world: yourself.

The you in your mind would always have her Eddie, but the you here would never have him again.

You ached to be back there.

What you wouldn't give to be back there, back there with him. Turn back the clock and say damn Hawkins, damn destiny, damn the world. You would sooner rip out your own heart than follow Gabriel to the tunnels that night in November of 84. The words, the oath, the fire, the dirt. Why did you go there when you could have come back here?

You could hear Gabriel's stupid voice echoing in your head, words that he'd repeated too many times after you'd ask him why, when, how you could come back to Hawkins, back to Eddie.

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret. Worldly sorrow brings death."

"Then I would rather die," you hissed now, aloud, as you watch the ghosts reach the pinnacle of pleasure and melt into each other. A great, glorious being with two heads and four arms, four legs, and one heart.

You held the tears at bay for as long as you could until you shut your eyes. The ghosts began to evaporate around you, whispered words faded into the din of the rain outside, until it was silent.

Until you were alone again.

You didn't want to open your eyes again, didn't want to face reality again, but when you did...you found a pile of cassettes on the ground.

You kicked them, gently, nudged them with your toe. Almost as though you expected them to disappear too.

And when they didn't, you knelt down and looked through them.

You should have been looking for Lucy. And further still, you should have been trying to find Fred before he healed too much and disappeared back through the gate, if he hadn't already. But curiosity got the better of you.

But no one was here to judge you. Wayne wasn't here to catch you snooping, wanting the last little remnants of Eddie that you could latch onto before you walked away and left the trailer to rot. Sure, you had asked Wayne and you could ask him more, but it was the little things that he didn't know, the secret things that were only between the two of you, that you hungered for again.

So you moved around his room and dug through the little piles of abandoned objects, blew off layers of dust, and scraped the tiniest bit of psychometric energy off them and directly into your heart.

Eddie screamed "this is music" when Robin called his tapes shit, that he needed real music. How many times had he said that to you when you'd attempt to put one of your tapes in?

A loaf of bread that, now, was just a moldy, desiccated mess. But a brush of your fingers over the plastic brought an Eddie sitting on the floor quietly tinkering away on an original song and getting hungry for PB&J.

Postcards and posters and random bits ripped out from magazines all scattered across his dresser and then tucked into the side of the mirror...two tickets.

Ozzy Osbourne with Special Guest Metallica Tuesday April 8, 1986 7:30PM Market Square Arena

Tears built up in your eyes as you ran your fingers over the faded ink.

The tickets being handed over to Eddie and Jeff who then started screaming on the sidewalk in front of the box office, how Eddie refused to let Jeff keep his ticket.

"Nah man, I'll keep them safe. With my life."

Talking about it to Wayne once a week, how they'd have to miss a set at the Hideout but it was ok. How often did you get to see Ozzy and Metallica?

Him practicing songs from the new album every night in front of the mirror, every night for 3 weeks since its release all while staring at the tickets and his eyes drifted up to...

You frowned, and concentrated.

Eddie's eyes drifted up from the tickets to...

You moved your hand off the tickets until you touched the glass of the mirror; something had been there.

Eddie walked into his bedroom in a daze, clutching a tiny piece of paper in his hand. No...not paper. It was stiffer...card stock. There were tears in his eyes, but a smile on his lips.

You gasped and pulled your hand from the mirror. You immediately dug into your pocket and pulled the same piece of cardstock, the one you'd fumbled with at Rick's when you didn't want Wayne to know you were snooping. It had come from here.

No.

It had come from you.

You hadn't tried to pick emotions from it before, hadn't tried to lift memories, but now you were primed for it. Images flashed before your eyes.

Of you standing in front of a drugstore Christmas card display debating yourself for the perfect one, agonizing as you sat at the little desk in a motel room wondering just what to write. Could you tell him where you'd been? How much you missed him? Beg him to wait for you, again? To keep waiting?

In the end you knew you couldn't say anything, just a heart.

Of Eddie eagerly opening the card, recognizing your handwriting and the little butt-shaped heart you drew inside. Of his hope that he poured onto the paper that you hadn't abandoned him, hadn't forgotten him. He'd just have to wait. He'd wait forever. And every day he'd kiss his fingers and strum the strings of his beloved guitar and then press those same fingers to the cartoonish little mug of hot cocoa on the front of your card.

Wayne had said he'd taken things that meant the most to Eddie when he left...t-shirts, books, his guitar...and not the concert tickets...but your card.

You thought back to a card of your own. Sent to you from your father at Christmas. The beautiful drawing of the Loch Ness monster and his pathetic "Merry Christmas, From Dad" written inside. How irrationally angry you were that he would send you a card, after he'd said such terrible words to you, after he tried to force you to accept fate when he realized he was on the path to failure. You'd ripped the card up.

Now, in this moment...staring at the card that Eddie cherished, one that you'd cowardly sent without even signing...you felt some kind of understanding with your father. For the first time, truly, in your entire life. How much you would give...for a normal life for your loved ones.

And you knew how much stronger than you Eddie was, how patient he could be...how much more love that he had to give. How much more trust and faith he had.

Tears dripped on the card and you quickly wiped them away with the cuff of your jacket.

You were loath to do it, but you shoved the card back in the corner of the mirror where it belonged. You kissed your fingers and pressed it to the front of the card, and for the briefest moment you could feel the Eddie that lived deep inside you smile.

You cleared your throat and went back to digging and you noticed, there on the bed, a book.

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide

Pages were randomly sticking out of it. Just like the books that had been at Rick's. You helped yourself as you began flipping and your thoughts fondly turned back to your own long sessions ahead of Halloween, when Eddie had convinced you to join Hellfire for one night only. Character creation and the mechanics of the game. He'd told you stories of monsters and villains like Xanathar and Vecna and...

"Wait," you paused. "Vecna."

Sure, Dustin had told you that Vecna was Henry Creel. But you'd never questioned the origin of the name. Villains gave themselves dumb names all the time. Like Batman's Calendar Man or Mad Max's Lord Humungus.

You flipped frantically, page after page after page...eyes scanning over unfamiliar words haphazardly. You didn't care about hit points and spells and experience, you needed to find one thing.

One thing that was on the tip of your tongue, the corner of your mind, you knew you knew it but you didn't know where...until now.

The Sword of Kas

"When Vecna grew in power," you read aloud. "He appointed the most evil and ruthless lieutenant to serve as his bodyguard and righthand. That henchman was the vampire lord Kas. For a long time Kas faithfully served the lich but legend says that the destruction of Vecna was brought on by Kas and the world was made brighter thereby. Son of a BITCH."

You picked up the book and threw it across the bedroom, where it crashed into a lamp and fell to the floor.

You backed out of the bedroom and back down the hall, into the kitchen. The wind whipped heavily outside and you knew you needed to find Lucy and leave...go back to the Harringtons and demand an answer but...how could you face the reality outside of those walls?

You needed a minute...to process all of it.

You stood over the sink, stared at the scummy drain and the basin filled with half-decaying leaves that had blown in.

Your heart was pounding, ears ringing, and your left arm started hurting, hand stiff and tingling where you clutched the edge of the counter; it could have been a heart attack but it could also have been everything that you'd been told since coming to Hawkins had been...what...a lie?

And here you were after a week and you had to start from square one again.

"It's ok, it's ok," you clenched your eyes shut and muttered to yourself. "It's not starting back at square one. You already know some things. So what? So what? So what his name isn't really Kas; you never knew someone named Kas in town anyway, did you really think that it was a real name?

"Of course you did. So why did they lie? The kids...Dustin...he must have come up with the name because...duh vampire. Makes sense. But then why wouldn't they tell you who Kas really was?"

You opened your eyes and stared into the sink again, then off to the side, sliding your eyes along the grout lines to help you calm yourself.

You were like a ticking time bomb of emotion. The...anger and sadness and mourning and need...all churning in your body. You were being selfish; these people, your former neighbors, had seen a lot. And here you'd come into town with your...Knight of the Holy Order spiel, spouting off how you'd be here to help and so far everything had truly...truly not worked in your favor.

"It's because I'm not trustworthy." You clenched a fist and hit the counter. "I know that."

What had you done? But...kill one of their friends and do whatever you wanted, go wherever you wanted...kept secrets. That's why you left the house earlier because you needed some space. And so did they. You being right under their nose, fucking up every step of the way, wasn't gonna do anything to earn their trust.

"And if they just trusted me, then I could help."

"And who's going to help you?" came a soft voice behind you.

You jumped and turned and saw her, hanging upside down from the jagged edge of the roof. Her hair cascaded down in a curtain to the floor, all perfect golden curls with a copper tint.

"Hello angel," she said in a long, breathy, drawn-out taunt, and then in a feat of impressive acrobatics, swung her body off the roof, flipping herself to stand upright.

She was a cheerleader after all.

"Nice to finally meet you too," you greeted calmly. "Chrissy."

She looked different than she had in the square, less bat-like, less creature-like, unless that was just your imagination now being so close to her. A strange mix of unsettling monster and conventional beauty. Her limbs were still long and a little in-human, but her pallor was less...dead. Her wings dragged along the ground behind her as she took one step towards you, then another. Her demon-like eyes, just like Fred's, stuck on you as you backed along the counter.

She grinned, all pretty, pouty lips and sharp, deadly teeth.

You mentally calculated how you could defend yourself if she decided to attack you here. The knife you had...fuck it was somewhere. Had you dropped it when Lucy had shown up? Regardless, all you had left was the crucifix tucked into your jeans and...yourself. Your powers. The thunder and lightning and rain still falling outside would be an easy conductor for a some kind of defensive play if you needed to.

The gate...also was an option. Crack the earth open further and swallowed her whole. But that wasn't a route you truly wished to explore just yet.

"You're thinking naughty things," Chrissy sing-singed. "Mean things. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not like the others want me to. Why do you want to hurt me?"

"You've hurt a lot of people," you explain. "Your master has."

"Master," she closed her eyes and stopped in her tracks for a moment. "He likes that. Master of Puppets, I'm pulling your strings. Yeah he likes that."

"Yeah? Nice to know he's happy."

"See?" she held her hands--claws--out to you. "We both want him to be happy. We can work together."

"Did you lose the ability to understand sarcasm when you died?" you snarked at her. Her smile dropped and her cheeks twitched. "He's a monster. He's a villain. He's killing people."

"He doesn't like what you're saying about him."

"Tough."

"You should be nicer, after all he's done."

"I'm not nice," you spit at her.

You'd shuffled to the edge of the kitchen but when you turned to try and make a getaway down the hall, you were immediately stopped by a solid wall of muscle. Clawed hands grabbed your biceps and pushed you away, then a mouth full of jagged teeth roared in your face, spittle and blood spraying you thoroughly.

If Chrissy felt more human and Fred more monstrous, Patrick was somewhere in the middle. His jaw was still slightly dislocated, from Vecna's curse or his own lack of care while feeding, you weren't sure. He was lithe and long, like a dancer, and he was strong. He turned you back to face Chrissy, and gripped your arms tightly; you could feel his claws puncture your jacket, your skin, deep enough you were sure he drew blood.

"You can't run," he hissed. "Don't run."

"Don't fight it," Chrissy continued, desperately. "Why do you fight it? He just wants you--"

"Wants me dead," you finished for her.

"He wants you," Patrick repeated, grip getting tighter. "He needs you."

Chrissy lunged for you then, one claw coming to your throat, the other gripping your jaw. You closed your eyes and tried to focus; you needed to get them off of you, needed to...expel them. You listened to the rolling thunder outside, trying to ignore the raspy hissing breaths in your ears.

If you could just...time it right...you could strike at least one of them with lightning.

You listened to the rumble and thought about an ocean...and...sea monsters.

You thought about Odysseus crossing the strait of Messina and encountering Scylla and Charybdis. A decision similar to yours right now; an adventure led astray that led to an impossible decision. Which path could he take that would cause the least damage? Which path could you? Strike Patrick and surely Chrissy would snap your neck; strike Chrissy and Patrick would tear out your throat.

Shit, even Odysseus had a fig tree to cling to.

You wracked your brain, tried to stay calm.

Until Chrissy's hands turned gentler, filled with care. Her thumb caressed your chin, then your cheek. The claw around your throat loosened, and she cupped your face in both hands.

"I feel what lurks," she hissed, breath fanning across your skin. "In your lusting heart."

"I hope you have a heart, because I'm gonna drive a stake through it," you spat at her.

Her fingers pressed into your face, punishingly, and then went soft again. She chuckled, deeply; not like the simpering giggle she'd given before. Something raspy from within her chest.

"You're funny." Chrissy continued, but there was a rumble in her voice now. Deep and dark and secret. "Denial...not just a river in Egypt. How's that for a joke? Why did you come here? Why did you come back?"

It wasn't Chrissy anymore.

"It's personal," you told her.

"Isn't it? It's just between us."

It was Kas.

Except Kas wasn't Kas anymore he was...something. And your mind bent trying to make sense of just who was on the other side of Chrissy's mind.

You felt her get closer to you and Patrick's grip on you tighten; the metaphorical rock and hard place that you'd been considering closing in on you. Your decision gone; you'd have to destroy them both.

But Chrissy's fingers kept up their gentle ministrations. Over your cheeks, then your brow, down the slope of your nose, over your lips. And if you ignored the rasp of her claws along your skin, you could almost imagine another set of hands. Doing what they always did. Soothing your thoughts, bringing you joy and comfort and love.

And surrounded by all of the memories, all of the ghosts that lived in the walls of the trailer it was overwhelming. A tear trailed down your cheek as you thought of him.

"Shhhh" she whispered, her own mouth close to yours now. She kissed away the tear as it rolled nearby. "Don't cry. How long?"

"It's personal," you repeated, but your mind flashed to the ghosts in the bed earlier, the memory of the two of you on a rainy October afternoon just like this one.

You hadn't thought of...another person like that since Eddie. You'd only ever thought of him after you were gone, and especially after he was. It was a self-imposed abstinence, but...well shit you were grieving. For yourself, for him. Your goal wasn't...pleasure...it was...Heaven. And heaven only ever was where he was, so if he was dead, so was your pleasure.

You knew that wasn't what Kas meant.

"Three years?"

But maybe it was.

"It's personal."

"I told you, it's just between us. How personal can it be?"

You grit your teeth, and turned your head away as best you could. The hands moved down your face, to your neck, fiddled with the remnant of Barb's bite. There was a growling between Chrissy and Patrick, but Kas continued.

"You want to be here."

"I don't."

"In Hawkins? Yes." The chuckling returned. "Yes you do."

The thumb ran slowly over the bite and you shivered, each ridge tender. There was a soft tsking noise, and then kisses up your cheek.

"I'm sorry." A lick over your skin, tongue flicking at the end. "But you're lying to yourself. You want to be here. You've been thinking about it since you set foot in the city limits; you're practically screaming it. Broadcasting it for all of Hawkins to hear. You're home."

"I..." Where was the lie in that? You had thought it, the minute you'd driven in town. You were home, in Hawkins. It was your home in a broad sense. This trailer was home. Eddie was home.

You hiccuped and scrunched your face up.

"Shhh," came a soothing sound, kisses over each of your eyes, just like Eddie would when you were upset.

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. I'm here. With you." You could hear the little grin in his voice. "But you're here, with me. You give a little, I give a little. A little back and forth. A partnership; we're both familiar with that aren't we? It's been a while...but it's just like riding a bike."

The hands moved...down...down...to the button of your jeans. Soon they were open and down further still, claws rasped against skin and cotton.

"I can give you everything you want. Everything you left behind."

There was that chuckle again, from Patrick this time, who pulled you closer against him, your back along the length of him. You could feel every limb accommodate the differences in your physiology. Vampire and human, unholy and divine. He began moving against you, length hardening into a prominent ridge against the softness of your rear. And Chrissy along your front, leaving sweet kisses and caresses, her fangs dragged over your skin intermittently as Kas continued his little speech, made his offer.

"But that means I get what I want too."

But which one was Kas? Were they both Kas? Were...

You couldn't think, the hands shifted just enough to play with your folds. You'd already been thinking of pleasure and Eddie, everything you'd lost and everything that could have been waiting for you. You were only human, of course you were going to respond.

It was a physical reaction...only a physical reaction, but...a little pleasure never hurt.

You nodded and fingers dipped, played with your clit, dragged your slickness up from your weeping, wanting hole to make it as sweet for you as they could.

Your head rolled back and rested against Patrick who had started breathing heavily behind you, huffing and heaving, a whispered so good, so sweet, as he used you.

"Ah but you already said it," there was a smirk. "I want you? I have you."

You had said that, hadn't you?

You thought of...god you could hardly think, but you thought of that last lazy morning together before you left. You late to work, Eddie late to school. He was behind you, face buried in your neck, fingers buried in your pussy as you both chased a high. A game of just enough but not quite too much followed by luscious words that helped get you to the edge together. He always told you how sweet you were. He liked to...

Fingers curled within you but bent in an oddly inhuman way that still abused your clit and brought you further along. You inadvertently clenched as the claws scratched and stung, and they both froze and hissed for a moment.

"Mine," they said in tandem, and then the movement became harder.

Rocking bodies, thrusting and bucking, fingers sliding in and out of your tight slit, palm grinding on your clit both delicately and punishingly, until a single tear became a river, and the storm outside emanated from you instead. You clenched your hands as Chrissy chased your high, as she pushed you over the precipice, as she stopped focusing on your channel and only focused on working your pleasure out of you for as long as she could. Legs weak, you arched away from Patrick and he chased you as well, pistoned his hips against yours until his own release followed.

You heard a distant clang of something falling to the floor, and your eyes snapped open.

And it was like a switch was flipped.

Patrick pulled you against him and Kas was gone; only a monster remained. A hungry one. And those fangs that had roared in your face just minutes easier buried themselves deep in your neck, the good side. They ripped into you and pulled, mouthful after mouthful of blood. It was a punishing kind of pain, especially with the remnants of an orgasm still coursing through you.

Chrissy was next, the gentleness in her gone, her hand, still slick, grabbed your chin yo keep you steady and with a feral grin she dove in and tore through the partially healed bite from Barb to take her own fill.

Their arms held you still while your body got weaker.

In your hazy mind you wondered if it had all been a trap. If Kas had wanted to take you out this way, obstacle removed by way of temptation.

You thought you heard your name.

There was a rumble and an unholy screech and before everything went dark, Chrissy and Patrick both ripped themselves away from your neck. Your blood splashed on the floor and dripped from their sharp mouths as they hissed at something.

But you couldn't keep your eyes open.

You were lost.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”  ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Next Chapter: Via Domus

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x oc #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic #kas!Eddie #vampire!Eddie #tw: dubcon #tw: violence

[dc-and-arfrona]

Once or Twice

—-

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 1k+

Masterlist

Summary: You are taken by the joker... once? Twice!

—

Darkness enveloped you as your eyes fluttered open. Disoriented and fearful, you realized you were trapped in a small, dimly lit room. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—you had been kidnapped by the Joker.

Panic welled up within you, but before despair could take hold, the sound of a door being kicked open echoed through the room. A figure, clad in a red helmet and armed with determination, burst in, engaging in a fierce battle with the Joker's henchmen.

It was Jason Todd—vigilante, known as the Red Hood. His movements were swift and precise, a whirlwind of calculated violence. His sole purpose was to save you, to pull you from the clutches of darkness.

Caught in the crossfire of chaos, you watched with a mix of fear and awe. Jason's expertise and unwavering determination left an indelible impression, igniting a newfound sense of hope within you.

In the midst of the ensuing battle, a henchman sneaked up behind you, a wicked grin plastered across his face. But before he could strike, Jason's sharp instincts kicked in, and he swiftly incapacitated the threat, sparing you from harm.

As the last remnants of the Joker's gang were defeated, Jason approached you, his intense gaze filled with concern. With gentle hands, he untied your restraints, freeing you from your confined prison.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of worry and relief.

You nodded, still shaken from the ordeal. "Thank you. I... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come."

Jason's grip on your arm tightened, his eyes filled with a mix of compassion and determination. "No one should have to go through what you just did. I'll make sure the Joker pays for this."

You found solace in his words, his unwavering dedication resonating deeply within you. Despite the chaos that had brought you together, a connection formed—a bond forged through shared trauma and a shared desire for justice.

In the aftermath of the rescue, Jason stayed by your side, ensuring your safety and offering a comforting presence. Through the days that followed, he became a constant pillar of support, guiding you through the process of healing and recovery.

As time passed, the initial connection that had formed in the crucible of danger evolved into something more. Together, you found solace in each other's company, understanding the unique pain and struggles that came with the life you both led.

The bond between Jason and you became an unbreakable force—a beacon of light in the face of darkness. The shared experience of surviving the Joker's clutches formed the foundation of a love that defied the odds, reminding you that even in the most harrowing of circumstances, unexpected connections can blossom.

Because sometimes, amidst chaos and pain, two souls can find solace and strength in each other, rewriting their destinies and weaving a tapestry of love from the threads of adversity.

The cold, relentless grip of fear tightened around you as you found yourself trapped once more, a pawn in the Joker's twisted game. The memories of your previous kidnapping haunted your every thought, but this time, the danger felt more imminent, more suffocating.

As the Joker reveled in his sadistic whims, a flicker of hope ignited within you—a hope that Jason Todd, the Red Hood, would come to your rescue once again. You clung to that sliver of faith, praying for his arrival.

And arrive he did.

With a thunderous crash, the door to the dimly lit room burst open, revealing Jason, his piercing gaze fixed on you. A surge of relief washed over you, momentarily lifting the weight of your predicament.

But the Joker, ever the agent of chaos, wasn't about to let his prey slip away so easily. He lunged forward, a maniacal grin etched upon his face, his twisted joy amplified by the impending danger.

Jason's movements were swift and precise, a symphony of violence in the face of madness. Blow after blow, he fought with unyielding determination, his sole focus on ensuring your safety.

In a moment of respite, Jason extended a hand toward you, his voice filled with urgency. "Come on! We have to get out of here."

You seized the opportunity, taking his hand and allowing him to guide you through the maze of twisted corridors. Fear propelled you forward, but Jason's presence offered a sense of protection, a glimmer of hope that you would make it out of this nightmare alive.

But just as you were on the cusp of freedom, the Joker struck from the shadows, a weapon clutched in his hand. Time seemed to slow as he aimed his weapon in your direction, the ominous click of the trigger echoing in your ears.

In that fraction of a second, Jason leaped forward, intercepting the bullet with his own body. Pain etched across his features, but his resolve remained unshaken.

"No more, Joker," Jason growled, his voice filled with a potent mix of fury and determination. "This ends here."

With a final surge of strength, Jason unleashed a torrent of retaliation, striking down the Joker and bringing an end to his reign of terror. You watched in awe and disbelief as justice was finally served, but your heart ached at the cost it had come with.

Kneeling beside Jason, you cradled his wounded form, tears streaming down your face. "Why... why did you do that? Why did you risk your life for me?"

Jason's gaze met yours, a mixture of pain and affection in his eyes. "Because you're worth it. Because no one deserves to suffer at the hands of monsters like him. And because... I care about you."

As the sirens wailed in the distance, a bittersweet realization settled upon you—a realization that out of the darkness, a love had blossomed, forged in the fires of chaos and redemption.

In that moment, you vowed to honor Jason's sacrifice, carrying his legacy of justice and love in your heart. Together, you would heal, rebuild, and forge a path forward—one that would forever be intertwined with the shadows of redemption.

Because sometimes, even amidst the darkest of circumstances, love and sacrifice prevail, birthing a new hope that illuminates the path to a better future.

#Jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood imagines #dc #dc imagines #dc universe #robin x reader

[imaybelactoseintolerant]

Commander Luthal

Chapter Eight: Crucible

Word Count: 5593

Masterlist

Previous | Next

The Crucible was the ship that ferried younglings to and from Ilum, and housed Professor Huyang, the droid that had assisted generations of future Jedi on their pilgrimage to the planet, and in making their sabers.

Arwen was unfortunately not allowed to sit with the other younglings and craft her lightsaber. In her injured state, Master Ropal had all but forbidden her from leaving the medical cot he’d ushered her to, though he’d been kind enough to set one up in the same room as everyone else, if a little far away. Forced to lay on her stomach to alleviate the worst of her back pain, she fiddled with the kyber crystal in her fingers, a content smile on her face.

She’d been given a mild medical stim to relieve the worst of the pain, and to give the healing process a decent boost. Professor Huyang had given them a lesson on crafting their sabers, told them everything they needed to know, and once the droid was done speaking, she scanned through a holopad containing information on how to build a lightsaber. She’d read a similar one before coming on the journey, but with nothing else to do she contented herself with refreshing her memory.

She wouldn’t be allowed to get up for another few hours to begin crafting her lightsaber, not until Master Ropal deemed her healed enough, and by that time a few of the other initiates should be done, maybe half of them.

She mulled over her trials in the caves, coming to a conclusion on the lessons she’d learned—and she indeed learned several. Gola had needed only one; to accept help when it was offered. Peja had learned that sometimes the hard way is the only way. Berrit learned that he cannot always rely on others. They’d all learned a valuable lesson, something the Force deemed necessary for their journey on the way to become Jedi, but the Force had given Arwen several lessons; don’t make rash decisions, overconfidence is dangerous, the easiest path is not always what it seems, resilience can be a powerful ally, and, perhaps the most important one, selflessness.

Arwen’s crystal hadn’t been down in the depths of the ice, waiting for her to complete a daring journey below in search of it. It had been mere minutes away from the first wall she’d climbed in the caves, and only revealed itself once she’d put aside her own desire to succeed. Selfishness was not the way of the Jedi, and she’d ventured to Ilum with only her own interests at heart, ignoring Peja’s wise idea to stick together, Berrit’s suggestion to travel in pairs in case someone got hurt (as she had), and expecting to walk out unscathed with a crystal simply because she felt she had earned it before she even really got there.

Lessons learned, but not easily, and not without pain. Her entire back, to her horror, was mottled black, blue and purple, one of her ribs were cracked, her pelvis severely bruised, muscles strained severely, and fingertips bloodied and missing skin. Recalling the fall from the shattered bridge, she marvelled at the fact that it wasn’t worse.

It was not a day she would forget easily, and she vowed to keep those lessons in the forefront of her mind at all times.

Gola was the first to complete her lightsaber—a brilliant blue beam of light—and she sat beside Arwen not long after so she could inspect it.

“I saw you, you know, climbing the ice,” Gola said as Arwen handed the Rodian her saber back, “In that giant cavern, with the frozen lake at the bottom,” Arwen frowned. That had been a long time before they’d met up.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. I saw you slip, and I called out your name.”

“I didn’t hear you… didn’t see you either. I looked out over the cavern when I came out of the crevice,” a person should have been easy to spot amongst the white and blue hues. She wasn’t sure how she missed her, or how she hadn’t heard her voice. Even soft words echoed.

“I guess that was a part of your trial.”

Arwen hummed, and the pair fell into silence. It was another few hours before Master Bolla Ropal deemed her well enough to sit up, and he hovered close by as Arwen searched the Crucible’s storage containers for interior parts; a powercell, modulation circuits, an energy gate, a plethora of wiring, an activator, a focusing lens, and whatever else she needed. Her greatest trouble came with choosing the exterior parts—she wanted the emitter, a vital piece of a functioning saber, to match the casing of her kyber crystal.

A lightsaber's purpose was not to look pretty, and the realisation that Arwen was dedicating so much time to making sure her lightsaber looked good made her scrunch up her face, but she wanted every piece to look deliberately chosen and pieced together. With any luck, it would be the weapon she carried for the rest of her life, and she wanted to give it the appropriate amount of consideration.

Several pieces of a potential casing were curved, and Arwen was reminded of Master Dooku. For a moment, she entertained mimicking his chosen style—he’d been the one to teach her how to properly use a lightsaber when she’d first come to the temple, after all—but she quickly dismissed the idea. Master Dooku was perhaps the only Jedi she’d ever seen with a curved hilt, and she had no doubt it changed the way you held and manoeuvred the blade. She’d likely have to relearn everything about lightsaber combat and duelling she knew.

Arwen happily settled on a traditional straight hilt, though she took her time when considering what pieces she wanted. She asked Master Ropal for assistance a few times—would this hilt design be too long for her machine parts? Would she need to find longer wiring for this design? Did this one have enough room to fit the diagnostic switches on the inside instead?—until she settled on her saber.

Durasteel was the primary metal—sturdy, silver-white, and in abundance on the Crucible—and she found she preferred having a solid, unobtrusive colour as the main part after comparing it to a very blue metal she’d been considering. It was also the metal of the pommel cap and the belt ring. The grip of the hilt would be a tightly woven rubber, a darker grey colour, and the majority of the hilt's inner space was taken up by the power cell and necessary pieces that came before the crystal. The top of the grip, rather than housing an activation lever or buttons, had a twistable switch that, when used, would activate the power cell and allow the power to travel through. Above the grip and majority of the hilt was a thinner neck where the crystal and focussing lens resided, leading into the wider end that housed the emitter matrix and the emitter itself. The piece she was most excited for, however, was the blade emitter shroud.

It was matte grey, covering roughly one quarter of the blades first two inches, and wrapping around the majority of the neck where her crystal resided. It also continued further down the blade, intersecting a small portion of the grip about a centimetre wide and trailing all the way to the bottom of her saber, and she added three more stripes evenly around the hilt, cutting through the grip. Blade shrouds were not entirely uncommon, but they were ineffectual against other lightsabers anyway, unless they were made from Beskar, which the lightsabers plasma blade couldn’t cut through. However, Arwen had managed to secure perhaps the only pieces of cortosis-weave she’d ever laid eyes on. It was a metal known primarily in high-grade Echani weapons—a metal that was so incredibly rare and hard to work with, so difficult to come by and so expensive, that Arwen had only ever seen a handful of pictures on holopads. Even so, the metal had to be carefully woven with other metals, as there was never enough to make a full set of weapons or armour. Instead the Echani had learned how to weave it into other metals while still keeping its integrity, and perhaps its greatest use; cortosis-weave deactivated lightsabers upon contact.

Having even the tiniest amount like she did, the second a lightsaber's plasma blade came into contact it would shut off as the energy shot back into the crystal. It wouldn’t overload the power cell, or even damage anything, but it would force the wielder to reactivate it. Arwen had to be careful about the placement of the shroud, making sure it would never quite touch her own blade. Using the rest on a small section of her hilt meant that should anyone manage to hit that area, it should protect her blade from being cut in half, something she grew more worried about now that she would be allowed to spar with a real lightsaber, rather than a training one that just stung and bruised.

After getting her design approved by Professor Huyang, Arwen sat in silence, legs folded beneath her, and closed her eyes.

It was a long, slow process, but one that she enjoyed. Feeling the pieces of the saber rise and join, pieces slotting together after she’d cut them to size, wires connecting, and the casing closing it all in. The assembly alone took her over an hour, and it had taken her at least three or four hours to choose and cut her components to size, but when she felt the completed hilt touch her hand she knew she would have sat on this ship for days assembling without complaint if she had to.

Opening her eyes, she looked eagerly to Master Ropal and Professor Huyang, waiting for their approval. The droid scanned her saber, though it had no doubt seen her entire assembly process.

“You may activate your lightsaber.”

Arwen stood holding out her saber in one hand. The grip felt secure, and the long pieces of cortosis-weave intersecting the grip were thin enough to not get in the way. Her fingers held it securely, and her thumb inched upwards towards the switch, sliding the durasteel around when she felt the indented metal.

A blue plasma blade emitted from her saber, and she basked in its glow, in her success. She twirled it in her fingers like she’d done with her practice sabers so often, pleased to find it felt exactly the same.

The journey back to Coruscant was lengthy, and though Arwen wanted to spar with the initiates, Master Ropal had been firm in his orders for her to rest. She went back to the medical cot with a pout, but accepted more pain relief when it was offered. She slept for the last few hours of the journey through hyperspace and awoke poorly rested, with an entirely different ache settled over her body. Amongst the pain was also stiffness and strains, in her upper body especially, but Arwen refused to go straight to the Halls of Healing.

Disembarking the Crucible, Arwen met Master Du in the hanger, unable to hide her excitement. Limping forward, Arwen held out her saber proudly, allowing Master Du to inspect it. She turned it over carefully in her hands, silently looking it over.

“Durasteel, yes?” Arwen nodded, “Rubber grip—what’s this other metal?”

“Cortosis-weave—any lightsaber that comes into contact with it will immediately shut off.”

“Ah, now that’s certain to cause a few arguments during your spars.”

Arwen stifled her laughter, “Only for the first few weeks. After that, everyone should be used to it.”

Master Du smiled and handed Arwen her lightsaber, “How lucky that you managed to find it, then. I’m not sure I’ve seen a lightsaber with cortosis-weave before.”

“I think I took pretty much all of it from the Crucible. I’d never even seen it in person before now.”

“Not even on Eshan?”

Arwen shook her head, “It’s rare, expensive, and difficult to work with. Only really high-grade weapons and armour use it, and even then it’s only in small amounts. They’re used mostly in vibro-weapons, so I think only the really high-ranking, old-money types on Eshan have them.”

“Hmm, members of the Echani Command, for example?”

“If not them, I don’t know who else.”

“Perhaps you should do some research into the area.”

Arwen was already drafting up a new paper in her head by the time they reached their shared quarters in the Jedi Temple.

Saber lessons the following day were even more energetic than usual, now that every pupil had real lightsabers. Doing away with the training sabers wasn’t supposed to be celebrated—the only thing it actually changed was the risk of getting hurt. Now that they used real lightsabers, there could be no more tagging others with their blades. It would involve no small amount of focus and care, and Arwen took that very seriously, listening intently to their instructor's lecture about the matter.

The thirty minutes spent standing in silence was worth every second when Peja’s green lightsaber switched off when it made contact with her blade shroud. Peja, bless her sweet heart, seemed to think she’d pressed the button accidentally, and then reignited it—only for it to switch off again a few strikes in. The fourth time it happened, Peja grew distressed and believed she’d somehow broken her saber after leaving the Crucible.

Arwen quickly put her out of her misery and explained the properties of cortosis-weave, though the pair kept it between themselves, revealing the information to Arwen’s sparring partners only after they grew confused about what was happening.

As Arwen predicted, it took only a few weeks for everyone to adjust their movements accordingly, though she had yet to see Anakin and test it out with him, as he and Master Kenobi had been sent away again. She didn’t mind though—Anakin always came back with some new technique he’d learned from Master Kenobi, and even though Arwen almost always already knew the technique herself, it caught her off guard when Anakin would toss it into spars without warning. It kept her on her toes.

There was a renewed vigour to saber lessons now, and Arwen took advantage of it, even able to convince several of the others to stay later in the day to spar together.

She sparred with Master Du several times during the first few weeks of becoming her padawan, and relished in the opportunity to learn more about her the way she would traditionally, if she never left Eshan. Kind, considerate, focussed, calm, Master Du was a model Jedi Knight, someone Arwen hoped she could become one day.

Master Du was also a master at Soresu, and promised to begin teaching her soon, but first she addressed what her largest concern had apparently been.

Arwen sat with Master Du in their shared living quarters in the Jedi Temple, a cup of steaming herbal tea before each of them. Legs folded beneath her, and Master Du’s crossed, they looked at one another from across the short table.

“I’m happy for you to continue with all your chosen areas of study, particularly your independent studies. However, there is one thing I’d like to add.”

“Master?” As far as Arwen was concerned, she was studying everything she needed. Her schedule was as full as anyone else's.

“I’d like you to take piloting classes—not for the next five years if you don’t want to, but at least until I can deem you proficient enough, and then you can choose to drop it if you wish.”

Arwen pouted without meaning to, “But… Master, that’s when I practise with my lightsaber,” she’d very specifically not chosen piloting because advanced saber lessons were in the same slot and she hadn’t cared enough for it to ask to be placed in a different class or rearrange her schedule, and she’d not chosen to study mechanics at all because she preferred to practise with her saber in her free time.

“You can still attend your advanced saber lessons, but your, shall we say, self-study of combat will need to be put on the backburner, or completed at another time during the day.”

She fought back the urge to whine about it, “But why?”

“The next time I am assigned a mission, I hope to take you with me,” Master Du said and Arwen sat up a little straighter. Already? “Nothing dangerous, of course, but things outside the temple can be very unpredictable. Chaotic. I’d like to know that, should something happen to me, or should I need you to, that you will be able to pilot us away from the situation.”

It made sense, Arwen realised. She was good with a lightsaber, but fighting was a last resort, and she was only a child. No matter how good she did in tournaments, she was still young, and there would no doubt be plenty of people capable of beating her, Force or not. And, worst case scenario, if Master Du was hurt and incapable of taking them back to Coruscant or even to a safer planet, Arwen should know how to do it.

She bit the inside of her cheek, lamenting losing her extra hours with her lightsaber. Then again, Master Du had said she would teach Arwen Soresu…

“I understand, Master. When do you want me to start piloting lessons?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll talk to Master Quiel today and finalise everything. Now, finish your tea before classes start.”

Piloting classes felt longer than any other, but maybe that was because Arwen didn’t really want to be there, even if she knew the necessity of it. She was vaguely familiar with a few of the younglings and padawans in the class, but they’d already grouped up with each other when they’d first taken the class, and so Arwen sat in silence while she listened to Master Quiel lecture about the basics of flight—more for her benefit than anyone else's, but he’d been firm in saying that sometimes everyone needs a refresher course. One look at the bored faces around her told Arwen there was little truth to that statement in this case. Everyone else clearly already knew what they were doing.

It made her long for familiar faces; Tarrock, who she rarely saw between their classes and his time spent in the Halls of Healing, Berrit and Gola, who both took piloting but in a different time slot, Peja, who studied the ways of the living Force and didn’t have room for studying to become a pilot in her schedule, and Anakin, who had been moved to advanced mechanics and piloting classes basically as soon as he’d arrived at the temple.

Arwen weathered the class alone, paying attention as best she could and trying not to let her mind drift to what she could be doing. She reasoned that if she paid attention, she’d learn faster. The faster she learned, the faster Master Du would deem her proficient in flying and allow her to drop the class. Then she could get back to her regularly scheduled lightsaber practice.

In the coming weeks, she realised there was a lot more to learn about flying than she thought. Master Quiel allowed most of the students to continue with their flight simulations, but for her and a handful of others who’d joined the class late, he continued lectures. They covered the basics of safety checks, engine checks, troubleshooting common issues, and the merits of having a co-pilot all within the first few lessons she attended, and Arwen felt her brain quickly overloading with information. Then came all the different buttons and levers, clearance codes and traffic control, auto-pilot and droids—knowing Binary came in handy there. There were a few especially lengthy lessons on the different kinds of ships; shuttles, transports, freighters, yachts, cruisers—so many, too many. Arwen had created an extensive list of them to refer to, making note of everything Master Quiel said, sure that she would lose track of it all without notes. She wasn’t sure how everyone else seemed so at ease, barely lifting a finger to type on their datapads.

After many more lectures on the finer details of ships, there came brief lessons on engines and hyperdrives—too complex to delve into fully, and if they wanted more details Master Quiel recommended either reading up during their free time, or taking on a mechanics class. Arwen was not especially keen to do either of those things.

By the time Arwen was twelve, she was finally allowed to partake in simulations. It was complicated, trying to remember the order of buttons to push, the correct jargon to use when requesting permission to take off or land, how to hail other ships and send distress signals, how to use the navicomputer and plot a course without a droid or when the navicomputer broke down in case of emergencies. That last one was especially complicated, requiring a lot of complex mathematics that Arwen had spent hours practising with Master Du after classes to make sure she got it right. In real life, even a tiny mistake in those equations could mean bringing her ship out of hyperspace and directly into a black hole instead of out of the end of a hyperspace lane.

But, to her surprise, the doing was a lot more simple than the knowing. Most ships were laid out differently, but even without buttons labelled with their functions, it was easy enough to tell what did what when she grew familiar with them, and the more she sat in the simulator, the more she understood the bored looks on everyone’s faces when they’d been subject to another lecture. Like with combat, there was only so much you could learn by reading and studying. The real study was in the practical side, and while she still didn’t love her piloting class, she didn’t drag her feet on the way there anymore.

Arwen wasn’t the best flyer in the class, not by a longshot, but she was confident in the cockpit of the simulator, and able to perform almost all the tasks competently. The tasks they were assigned and graded on that mattered most were to do with safety and emergency procedures, and those were the ones she worked the hardest to do well in. The ones she barely scraped by with a pass were manoeuvring through asteroid or debris fields, dodging plasma bolts fired from other ships, outrunning pursuing ships, and a few others. The first few times she’d attempted those last ones she’d failed spectacularly, and it took her days of repeating the simulations and coming back after lessons before she got them right.

Anakin and Master Kenobi returned during that time, and Arwen contented herself with catching Anakin off guard with her new lightsaber. The look on Anakin’s face when his lightsaber switched off was worth his complaints that she was cheating afterwards. But as time went on, Anakin and Master Kenobi were present less and less, and Arwen’s spars with Anakin grew ever more infrequent.

Her own time spent with her master more than made up for that, however, and soon Master Du was instructing her in the basics of Form III, Soresu. But first came the theoretical lessons. In the case of combat, Arwen was more than pleased to listen. She’d already done a lot of research for her independent studies class.

“What can you tell me about the first three lightsaber forms?” Master Du asked, cross-legged across from Arwen.

“Shii-Cho is the first form, and it's taught to everyone in the temple. Most Jedi believe that for a long time, it was thought to be the only effective way to use a lightsaber.”

Master Du hummed, “And do you know why that is?”

“Some of the information in the archives says it's because it was likely created before the ways of the Dark side had been mastered, and the Jedi didn’t fight amongst themselves much. It wasn’t made for combat with other lightsabers, but against things like vibro-weapons, because Form I was derived from traditional blade-to-blade combat.”

“Well done. Some Jedi will say that Shii-Cho is an ineffective form, as it isn’t as refined as later forms. However, it’s important to remember that whenever other lightsaber forms fail, Shii-Cho is what Jedi fall back to, and it often saves their lives,” Arwen nodded her understanding, “It stands well as its own form, but it is also a vital stepping stone for all future Jedi. Without Form I as a base, it would be incredibly difficult to immediately start learning any other form. Now, continue.”

“Form II is Makashi, and it's a lot more refined than Form I. It requires precise and efficient movement, and relies less on strength and long sweeping motions, like Form I did. It was created by the Jedi when they warred against the Sith, because Form I wasn’t effective against another lightsaber.”

Master Du hummed again, “Can you tell me why Shii-Cho wasn’t effective against another lightsaber?”

“Lightsabers don’t have an edge like traditional weapons do, so the offensive, defensive, and parry techniques that Shii-Cho uses aren’t as effective against a lightsaber. Makashi focussed a lot on fixing that issue, developing much more difficult techniques that could be used to defend against or attack another lightsaber wielder. It’s become such a refined form that it's still the standard and preferred form for duelling.”

“Correct,” she hummed, “I read your paper on Makashi, and how it’s one of the only forms to encourage personalisation, style and flair, so I suppose you also know about dual wielding sabers?”

Arwen nodded quickly, “A lot of Jedi and Sith tried to incorporate a second lightsaber into their duels, but found them too awkward to use, and this is how the first shoto lightsaber blades were made. They were mostly used as an off-hand weapon, or as a backup if they were disarmed. Most Jedi only use a single lightsaber for Makashi now—that’s reflected in my survey, by the way.”

Master Du nodded, “I saw. Now, tell me about Form III, if you know much.”

“Soresu is almost exclusively a defensive form, and it was first developed to counter blasters, which were becoming extremely common across the galaxy. Neither Shii-Cho nor Makashi were equipped to defend against blaster fire. Soresu techniques focus on deflecting blaster bolts, and also send them directly back at the shooter. It’s not only for defending against blasters though, and it outclasses both previous forms in its defensive capabilities. Shii-Cho had a few defensive techniques for fighting against traditional weapons, and Makashi had techniques for avoiding being disarmed, but it was only meant for one-on-one combat, but Form III, while extremely useful in duels, is capable of defending against multiple attacks at once.”

“Yes, but remember that Soresu requires an incredible amount of calm and focus to maintain, and also agility and speed. To become proficient in Soresu your body must be tightly controlled, and allow for no openings in your defence. It requires that you be both in the moment, and looking ahead; ready for every attack coming your way, but looking ahead and planning strategies. A Soresu practitioner should be capable of outlasting numerous enemies for a longer period of time than if they were using something like Form I or II.”

“I understand, Master,” she made a note to do more research on Soresu when she had the time.

“Good. Let us begin with the most important part of Soresu; your mind. We will begin by meditating, and when I feel you are ready we will begin learning some of the basic techniques.”

As it turned out, Arwen would not be ready to move on from meditation for quite some time. She had always struggled with meditation outside of spars, but having it be a requirement for even beginner techniques had really showed her just how bad at it she was.

After a few weeks of stagnation, Master Du finally suggested she try meditating while sparring against her. There was to be no competitive attitude, no show-boating as she was prone to doing in front of her master, and no attempts to disarm.

To move forward, Arwen had to achieve a level of calm and focus she had yet to accomplish, but it felt miles easier doing it with her lightsaber in her hand than kneeling on the floor. To be focussed in battle was second nature to the Echani—a vital part of their upbringing and absolutely necessary to have any hope of surviving the many civil wars that occurred on Eshan. Loss of that focus for even a second could mean losing your weapon, your arm, your leg, your head.

Master Du proposed that was likely why she had always had better luck slipping into a meditative state during spars; it was as close to battle as she, and other young Echani, would get for a long time. It was ingrained into her very DNA, reinforced for generations.

“It’s a useful skill to have,” Master Du said quietly, “The Jedi only ever resort to fighting as a last resort, but there will come a day, my padawan, where you must.”

“You sound so sure, Master.”

Master Du hummed, “I am. It’s happened to me many times, and to other Jedi. Sometimes it’s expected—something you can sense a long time in advance, and in that case it is not so hard to maintain calm. Knowing it is coming gives you time to prepare, or at least not be so caught off guard. But a lot of the time it’s so sudden you will barely have a second to raise your lightsaber in defence. Perhaps you’ll be surrounded by many who wish to do you harm, for only a fool would attack a Jedi alone, and in those uncertain moments, you must be able to adapt quickly to save yourself and any innocents who may be present.”

Arwen nodded sagely, lightsaber gripped firmly. There was a faint echo in her mind, a distant voice that sounded like Madam Oren, calling out similar lessons over the clatter of vibro-blades.

Soresu came quickly after that—quicker than Makashi had, which had taken weeks of unlearning things that Shii-Cho had ingrained too deeply, and weeks after to become steady in, then months to become good at. Soresu felt not easy, but natural.

A weapon was always meant to be an extension of a warrior, a piece of themselves that they moved and controlled as they would a limb. Arwen knew what that meant, or she thought she had. She had understood it by the time she left Eshan, thanks to both Madam Oren and her old master, Maul, and her skills in both Form I and Form II had only made her more sure that she was one with her weapon. But this… every swipe of her blade felt fluid and steady, her wrist twisting the hilt just so as it caught a stun bolt on the plasma again and again. Her feet adjusted when another droid was switched on without warning, and she stepped several feet to the left and twisted, forcing both droids to face her head on so she wouldn’t be forced to turn back and forth to defend herself. She angled her body to minimise damage when a bolt managed to slip by, adjusted her position, and was then moving her saber once more.

The longer she did it, the more she adjusted, the more single-minded her focus became. Two droids, then three, then four, firing without warning and repositioning themselves so she was forced to rethink her position and what she needed to change, all while keeping herself from being hit.

It was only days later that Master Du jumped into the fray—quite literally, and without warning—and even though Arwen wasn’t expecting her to join in for at least a few weeks, she was ready for her. She could not hope to defeat Master Du in a spar, but winning or losing was not the goal.

Soresu users were meant to outlast their opponents, and Arwen would put in every effort to stay on her feet for as long as she could.

Master Du was swift and controlled, her face giving little in the way of clues to what she could do, but Arwen could read her body somewhat well. Between deflecting blaster bolts, which had been significantly reduced once Master Du joined her, Arwen kept her guard up against her master. Blocking and parrying the much taller and stronger woman's blows tested her strength greatly, but she remained steadfast, ever aware and watching.

Even with the knowledge that Master Du was barely putting in any effort, Arwen felt she was doing well. Her arms strained and burned with the effort, but that only meant she was being pushed to do more, to do better.

Arwen wasn’t sure how long they sparred for before a stun bolt slid past her guard and hit her in the temple, but when she woke up with a dull ache in her head she couldn’t even bring herself to feel disappointed or embarrassed.

“You did well, Arwen,” Master Du said, and Arwen detected a hint of pride in her voice, “I think we might have found what’s been holding you back in using the Force. Get some rest, and tomorrow we’ll skip right past perfecting Force push in the classroom, and we’ll put it straight into spars.”

#fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #star wars #clone wars #oc #arwen luthal #echani #female oc #ocs #bolla ropal #ur-sema du

[hawkinspostbite]

LUXURIA

Words: 1,307

MASTERLIST CAPITAL VICES

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

LUXURIA

“Lust is a psychological force, producing intense wanting. It can take many forms, such as the lust for sexuality, money, or power.”

In his short seventeen years on the planet, Billy Hargrove had had an overwhelming amount of sex. A typical teenage boy he was, yes, but Billy over-exceeded the “normal” amounts of bedding with women. He had an average teenage libido, and of course, he had almost every girl throwing themselves at him, but his reasonings for his active sex life was his less than pleasant home life. It gave him an escape, literally, and figuratively. He could actually leave his hellhole home, and he could mentally check out.

This situation started out no different than others, it was just that this one started out at walked a party. Billy was leaning into some random girl, she was a freshman, she had made that very clear. She was small, reasonably pretty, and perched high up on the counter. She wasn’t the greatest at kissing, but Bill had a particularly rough time getting out of the house earlier, so any human contact without attachment was good enough for him.

The girl pulled away for air, lips swollen. She smiled down at him. “Gonna go get another drink. Don’t move.” She slid down and wobbled past him.

He watched as she somehow found her way to the crowd of people, then got lost in it. He brought the back of his hand up to wipe his mouth. He fucking hated when girls wore lip gloss. What was the point? It just got stuck in their hair or transferred to his mouth. “Didn’t peg you for a glitter-gloss type of guy. Maybe more of a holographic one.” A voice startled him out of his inner rant.

“What?” He snapped, turning quickly to find the source of the sound. His eyes fell on the most incredible person he’d ever seen. Her hair was perfect, her face was perfect, her body was perfect, and she wore no lip gloss.

Her free hand shot out to his face, swiping across the bottom corner of his lip. “Lip gloss?” She shrugged.

“Freshman.” He mumbled.

She smiled, rubbing her fingers together to reduce the sticky substance on her skin. “Should’ve known.” She pursed her lips, eyes scanning him up and down. He almost melted on the spot.

“I’ve lived in shithole for four weeks now, and I have never seen your gorgeous face. Why haven’t I seen you around?” He was beginning to forget about his previous companion.

“Couldn’t tell you. Although every time I have seen you, you seemed just a little preoccupied with the nearest pair of semi-exposed boobs.” She leaned against the doorway. Billy’s jaw fell open, this chick really didn’t hold back. Sure, she spoke the truth, but he’d never admit it. “Don’t act so surprised, you’re not good at faking it.” She took a sip of her drink, and with every word, Billy’s pants tightened. She laughed at him. “You know it’s true. That’s why you’re so shocked. Don’t worry Hargrove, I live my life no-strings-attached too.”

How did she know his name?

He swallowed, ready to ask that exact question, but was interrupted. “What the hell are you doing Y/N?” It was his previous suitor, full cup, and re-applied lip gloss.

“Cool your jets Mindy. Just making my rounds. I’ll get out of your way now. I know you two have important business to attend to.” Y/N traded places with Mindy. He now knew both of their names, though he only wanted to remember one. “By the way Hargrove, if you ever get sick of freshman, just remember- I fucking hate lip gloss.”

And with that she disappeared. Not because she left, but because Mindy slammed the door in her face.

That night Billy fucked freshman Mindy in the downstairs bathroom of Ally’s house, but the whole time he was picturing Y/N.

Billy was beginning to become pissed. He hadn’t been “sexually active” since Ally’s party, and Y/N was to blame. Something inside Billy snapped that night. The only time he was able to get it up was when he was alone, and picturing Y/N. He had tried to sleep with Tina last week after school one day, but nothing worked. Billy had decided his only hope was to talk it out with Y/N, and hopefully shit would work itself out.

He had suspected her of witchcraft or voodoo, but then he realized that he had actually been paying attention in English, and they were reading The Crucible.

Luckily Billy had finally hit his breaking point, and it was Friday. He had convinced Tommy to convince Carol to throw a party that night. Carol had the nicest house.

Billy spent an extra hour getting ready. He felt overwhelmingly lucky that night. There was no issue getting out, his dad was passed out drunk by seven and Susan and Max were already in bed.

Billy arrived an hour early and stood guard by the door just so he could swoop in the exact moment she arrived. And that he did. In his time spent staring-down the door, he had downed four beers, so he wasn’t at his sharpest. “Hargrove, what brings you to my side so soon after my arrival?” She grinned at him. He noticed sparkles adorning her lips.

“You’re wearing lip gloss.” He spoke, lowly.

“I like to piss you off. Heard you might have a little issue, on account of me.”

Of course Tina would snitch. Fucking bitch.

“Who told you that bullshit?” He clenched his jaw.

“You still haven’t worked on your faking skills Hargrove. Give me some time to get drunk and then I can teach you how to be better at that.” And with that she disappeared into the sea of students.

Two hours later and she reappeared, seeming very drunk, and more perfect than ever.

“What did you do while I was gone?” She smiled from above him.

“Broke his own keg record, and did body shots off of three different people.” Tommy answered from beside him.

“I didn’t ask you Tommy. He’s not mute, he can answer for himself.”

That was that. His pants grew tight.

“You took your lip gloss off.” He muttered.

“Wasn’t a conscious decision. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

His feet were working separately from his brain, moving before he could comprehend it. He figured he was a stumbling mess.

They came to a stop in front of the “forbidden room”, Tina’s parent’s room.

She pulled bobbi pin from her bra and picked the lock.

“So tell me about your issue?” The two stepped into the room.

She locked the door behind her, and walked past him to fall onto the bed. “How do you know about it?” He stood in his spot.

“I didn’t. You just told me. So discuss. Now.”

“Ever since I met you-“

“Three weeks ago?”

“Will you let me fucking finish? Ever since I’ve met you, I can’t stop thinking about you. Like, thinking about you.”

She nodded her head. That’s it? A fucking nod?

She took a few moments to ponder. “How drunk are you? On a scale of one to ten?” She peered across the room at him, eyelids heavy.

“Solid nine. Why?”

“I say we make the problem go away. What do you think?” She smirked at him.

He licked his lips, walking calmly over to the bed. He knelt over her, bringing his face to hover over her’s.

“What are you waiting for Hargrove? Show me how they do it in California.”

That night Billy Hargrove had reached what he could only assume as peak existence. As desire took over his entire body, he was consumed with complete and total euphoria. And he never wanted it to end.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine

[cultgambles]

Temporary Bliss

Song used: temporary bliss by the cab

Masterlist | Requests? open

Word Count: 1320

B A Z

I come over Quarter past two

It was nearly two am, Snow would surely be asleep by now. I hadn’t seen him all summer. I missed staring at Snow. I did see him running after Wellbelove, but I couldn’t be bothered to shout out a snarky remark. Summer was exhausting, especially because he still thinks I’m going through a phase. I just wanted to curl up in bed. But no, I’m coming out of the catacombs.

I snuck into our room (our room), and rolled into my sheets. A deep breath in, and I turned over to look at my roommate.

Love in my eyes Blinded by you Just to get a taste of heaven I'm on my knees

The moon’s beams added a pale glow to his tawny freckled skin. Snow always made all these sounds when he slept. Mostly growls or the occasional whine, but they were always accompanied by tossing and turning. It always pained me; I knew he was suffering, yet I only added to his misery. What else was I supposed to do? Truly, was I just supposed to walk up to him and apologize after years of antagonizing? Of course not.

I can't help it I'm addicted

Instead, I’m here. Sheltered by the moonlight and the dark wind. Sheltered by unachievable hopes and dreams. It was enough for me, I could stare at Snow forever in the comfort of the darkness.

But I can't stand the Pain inflicted In the morning You're not holding on to me

Evidently, there was always two fears that kept me up at night. The realization that I would be killed by Snow’s hand, and that after this year I would no longer stare upon his beautiful face. It especially hurt each morning. Like the idiot he is, he just changed right out in the open. His muscles flexing over his head, his raspy voice telling me to fuck off. Sometimes, it was too much. It was always too much.

Tell me what's the point of doin' this every night What you're givin' me Is nothin' but a heartless lullaby

Other nights, I imagine him holding me tightly as we both drift to sleep. My head tucked under his chin even though I’m taller, but he knows I like to be coddled sometimes. His arms wrapped securely around my waist, maybe one had threading through my hair. Or maybe our fingers would interlock, and we’d fall asleep at night.

Gonna kill my dreams, oh This is the last time Baby make up your mind

I never get any rest, he even plagues my dreams. Stupid, beautiful Snow. It’s worth it though. That’s the only time I can be with him and not fight.

'Cause I can't keep sleepin' in your bed If you keep messin' with my head Before I slip under your sheets

It was halfway through the school term. I abhorred Snow again. Just like our first meeting when the Crucible set us up. Each time he got back together with Wellbelove, it made me even angrier. Of course he had to flaunt his straightness. His perfect girl, whom would always be there with him. The golden girl and the Chosen One.  

Can you give me somethin' please? I can't keep touchin' you like this If it's just temporary bliss Just temporary bliss

Even so, Wellbelove never saw him like I did. I saw him at his most vulnerable. Snow’s eyelashes were long and fluttered against his cheeks when he slept (even when he was awake, too).

We were on fire Now we're frozen

I could never hate Snow.

There's no desire Nothing spoken You're just playin' I keep waitin' for your heart (I keep waitin' for ya')

He would never see me as more as his arch enemy. I took what I could get. Just seeing him there, was enough.

I am fiendin' for the sunshine To show our love in a good light Give me reason I am pleadin' to the stars (Tell me)

As our seventh year went on, my fantasizes had become more prominent. More needy. I couldn’t bare to look him in the eye. Pathetic.

Tell me what's the point of doin' this every night What you're givin' me Is nothin' but a heartless lullaby Gonna kill my , oh This is the last time Baby make up your mind

I stared down at Wellbelove under my lashes. We were here, in the Wavering Wood. Her hands clasped in mine, her face lit with a soft blush. I heard Snow even before he was screaming at me. I turned to give him a sneer and to bring his girl closer to me, and then before I could blink, he and that Bunce girl vanished.

I dropped Wellbelove’s hands immediately and stalked off.

I scowled, but I was terrified. My Simon Snow, where had you gone? That was our last day of the school term, too. Fiona picked me up a few hours later and I sulked in the back seat.

'Cause I can't keep sleepin' in your bed If you keep messin' with my head Before I slip under your sheets Can you give me somethin' please? I can't keep touchin' you like this If it's just temporary bliss Just temporary bliss

Summer came and went, and I was to return to my final year of Watford. Snow plagued my thoughts more than normal, especially after he disappeared like that. Was he alright? Was--fuck.

I'm your one and only, only when you're lonely (Na-na-na-na na-na-na-na) [x2]

I can’t believe I’m being kidnapped. By fucking numpties. Fuck me. And they have the audacity to put me in a coffin? The Nerve. I’m going to die here.

I'm your one and only, only when you're lonely Baby why you callin' me? Not another one night Try'na be your whole life I don't wanna fall asleep

The days turned to weeks, the weeks into months. No Snow (besides the one in my mind), no food, no sanity, no nothing. Except, of course, darkness and the blood every couple of days.

Then I heard shouting. Screams. Explosions. Someone lifted the lid to my dear coffin. Fiona.

I'm your one and only, only when you're lonely Baby why you callin' me? Not another one night Try'na be your whole life

“Oh no you don’t. Front seat’s for people who haven’t been kidnapped by fucking numpties. Get in the back. We’re going home,” Fiona smirked.

“I have to go to school,” I muttered weakly.

“No, we’re going to let you heal.” That was final.

I can't keep sleepin' in your bed If you keep messin' with my head Before I slip under your sheets Can you give me somethin' please? I can't keeping touchin' you like this If it's just temporary bliss Just temporary bliss Temporary bliss

Of course, I fought tooth and nail. Even threatened to run away to get there (if I had to).

It worked. I was back. “Open Sesame!” I commanded, waltzing into the mess hall. I heard a chair clatter, Snow sputtering at me. (My idiot.) I saw Wellbelove look at me with hopeful eyes, but I paid them no mind.

“Good Evening, gents,” I said to Dev and Niall.

I can't keep sleepin' in your bed If you keep messin' with my head I can't keep feelin' love like this

I was back in my own bed. Back in our room. Finally. Snow was tossing and turning more than usual, and I guessed it had to do with what happened before summer. The moon was at it again, painting her beams on Snow’s curly cinnamon hair. I sighed in contempt.

Even so, it was torture. Snow would off me, just like he would to the Insidious Humdrum.

It's not worth temporary bliss

#snowbaz #fanfic #songfic #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #writing #fanfiction

[snowbaz-fanfiction-library]

Getting Back Together Masterlist

5 Years by CarryOnMyLovelies

It's been 5 years since he saw his curly-haired, blue-eyed, golden-smiled boy. At the beginning, everything is pain and numbness. A little while later, Baz finds out that they're still friends on Facebook. For some reason. But, this was the small window to Simon's life without him, and he wasn't going to pass that up.

begin again by velvetnoodle

It’s been three years since Baz left the sleepy Isle of Mage to attend university in London, and he hasn’t regretted a thing–except maybe leaving Simon behind. Convinced he’ll never be forgiven, Baz refuses to even visit until a frantic phone call from his stepmother sends him running home. Once there, Baz is forced to confront his past, question the future, and maybe, just maybe, get that second chance he’s always desired.

Help I can’t be his friend, Aleister Crowley, I love him by snowkatze

There is finally an answer to the question whether Simon is gay or not. Baz doesn’t like the answer.

It's Always Been You by ebbthegoatgirl

What if Ebb lived and her fumbling lesbian crush was much more than that?

Nightmares Past the Dream by lequeenofmoondoor

The five year reunion of Watford, with awkwardness and reconcilliations all around.

Stupidly Jealous by snowkatze

It had been a shock to literally the whole school when they had come out as a couple. But by now everybody was used to them holding hands and kissing. It had been unbelievable to Baz that he and Simon had actually gotten together, but here they were, their last year at Watford and even though the humdrum was still out there and the old families were still pressing, he and Simon were happy together. Well, not so much. He was happy. Whilst Simon…

together again by macroglossus

they’re on opposite sides of the room and studiously avoiding eye contact.

trails by macroglossus

they really can't live without each other.but it gets to be too much, sometimes.

We Are Shining Stars by Basiltons_Charmed_Life

It has been five years since Baz and Simon broke up and Baz is a mess much like Simon. Though Baz has no true intentions to reconcile with his true love, fate, much like the crucible has other plans for him.Or, the post-carry on world no one expected but when two people suffer so much its much harder to put themselves together and find home again.

#snowbaz #carry on #getting back together #masterlist #getting back together masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐕)

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

wordcount: 5.6k words

summary: Aren't they all one in the same?

chapter warnings: smut, semi-public sex, angst, descriptions of extreme body modification, threats of violence, porn with plot

previous chapter | next chapter | (AO3 Link)

V: The Girl, the Pig, and the Crow

It was astounding how one day could make such a difference. If you boiled it down, one not-so-chance meeting turned your mundane life into a roaring fire. An overwhelming burn of desire and hope consumed your being to a point that exposed you to possible destruction. That was a risk you were willing to take.

After you and Heisenberg came to a mutual understanding of your exclusive yet purely carnal relationship, you felt strangely content. Although it wasn’t the whirlwind “Pride and Prejudice” love story your whimsical heart longed for, it was leaps and bounds greater than any other “relationship” you’ve ever been involved in.

An outsider may think that you were moving rather quickly in your feelings, but it was the pace your surroundings dictated. Monsters and disease loomed around every corner, so you didn’t have the luxury to take anything slow.  

During the walk back to your home, Heisenberg drilled in that you weren’t allowed to go trekking through the woods by yourself anymore. He would come to you when he was not busy. Not the other way around. Your near-death experience by the claws of Lycans made you not protest. Sometimes logic did penetrate your stubborn brain.

Little did you know that it wasn’t the Lycans attacking you that Heisenberg feared. No, after indulging in your body his scent was plastered all over you. It was four mutated people getting their hands on his little healer that he had to watch out for. A frightening prospect, but you were none the wiser.

By the next night, you were safely snuggled by the fire with the beautifully crafted “Machinery in Anatomy” book in your lap. Haphazard oil stains and coffee rings on some of the pages displayed how well-loved it was before you got your hands on it. Perhaps you’ll leave a mark of your own. You were sure you had an old tube of lipstick stashed away somewhere.

Since the book was so large you flipped to a random page near the beginning. Its contents seemed to be more of a safekeeping for breakthroughs rather than a chronological experience. Your fingers fiddled with the corner of the thick parchment page as you tried to soak in the complex drawings and annotations.

Sketched on the paper was some sort of breathing apparatus. The device had an elongated canister, different from all the ones you’d seen before. Small wires are drawn coming from either side of the mask which begged the question, what did they attach you? To you, the apparatus looked like something that would be used during warfare. Not that you had any expertise in that department.

The writing along the drawing read, “Subject #5: Previously was in an unstable physical condition. Discovered that securing a mask alongside the cranium’s headwear ensures stabilization to fully conduct. Check for sufficient oxygen levels before durability tests.”

Subject? Based on all the other content you briefly skimmed through, Heisenberg was testing something. “I said I was busy.” The vagueness in Heisenberg’s tone made sense now. No one had pages upon pages of contraptions just for fun. What also made sense was why no one ever saw the Lord outside of his factory. Well, except for you of course.

Embarrassment flames your cheek when you remembered how patronizing you were about what he spent his time doing. Talk about being hypocritical. You always complained about people undermining your work and you did just the same to Heisenberg.

Even though you wanted to dive into every inch of text to decode what exactly he was doing, the telltale signs of sleep started to take hold of you. Although the amalgamation of your fears and dreams inculcates a feeling of dread within you, some sleep was better than no sleep. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

As you go to squeeze the book into a nearby shelf something slips out from the pages and gently floats onto the floor. Bending down you pick up the glossy material and study it. You almost drop the photo again when you finally absorb what you’re even looking at.

Murky yellow eyes stared back at you, but no emotion could be found in their depths.

Its skin was a sickly ash color that reminded you of a mangled corpse. There was no way it could be anything else. Jagged incisions that ran endlessly on the being only strengthened your theory. They were stained red and crudely mended by what appeared to be large staples. Calling the method of suturing cruel and unusual would be the understatement of the century.

Just when you thought that was the end of the horror your eyes drifted down to its arms. Giant drills replaced the spot where its upper extremities should have been. Two thick tubes curved behind its back and you were grateful you couldn’t see what the hell they attached to.

Taking a deep breath, you fight off a wave of nausea. Although you’ve seen your fair share of blood and gore, this was undeniably abhorrent.

You didn’t know if you should be horrified or amazed at the sheer complexity of the… subject you were looking at. The Duke once warned you about the horrors beyond human imagination that roamed where each Lord lived and now you knew why. Now you didn’t want to go for trysts in the woods ever again.

Turning over the photo you brace yourself for more nightmare fuel, but are met with only cursive writing, “Soldat Zwei, success. Enhanced reactor vent with optimal drills.”

From your studies, you recognize the German word for solider and two. You also remember the glimpses of other chunks of contraptions and drills in the background of the photo. That had to mean there were more combinations of corpse and machine where that came from.

These possibly manufactured mutant soldiers must be the reason why Heisenberg didn’t want you to leave his room the other day. Just thinking about the damage those drills could cause makes you queasy. You guess that’s also what makes them so effective.

Heisenberg must be going about a “show don’t tell” way to let you in on what he was doing. A part of you felt oddly flattered that he would trust you with this book, but another part of you wished you could unsee all of it.

Looking around, paranoia itches its way up your spine. This wasn’t something you could just throw on your bookshelf and call it a day. You start to make your way toward the locked chest that holds your lei until you come to an abrupt halt.

Too obvious of a hiding place. Wherever you decided would be a life-or-death decision. As dramatic as you thought that sounded this wasn’t a little secret. It was the size of a fucking bomb that was waiting to blow up your shabby old cabin. God how you missed having no responsibilities.

This is what you get for getting involved with a metal-wielding, electricity-crackling, incredibly sexy man who was also apparently a mad scientist. If only you got a coin for every time you asked yourself, “What did I get myself into?”

Not only did you have to shield yourself from the other villagers, but now you had to hide a colossal secret from Mother Miranda. Faking a smile was one thing, but helping to hide an army of corpses was a whole other brand of trickery.

You tap your foot on the creaky floorboard while trying to find an answer. Under your mattress was too cliché and nearly all your shelves are almost spilling with how full they are. If only you were able to burrow it…

Inspiration hits as suddenly as a freezing-cold snowball to the face. You smack yourself in the head at your oversight. Hiding the book under the floorboards was foolproof. It would be easy enough for you to retrieve and no one would start out with ripping up your floor if they were looking for something.

Moving off the loose floorboard under your foot, you execute your idea and send a silent prayer to any God that lay beyond this village. Wiping your clammy hands on your night down you sulk toward your bedroom. Why waste time worrying about your dreams when you’re already living in a nightmare?

Heisenberg was going to get the tongue-lashing of the year the next time you saw him.

-

A blissful haze filled your body as you started to wake from your surprisingly uneventful slumber. As you bend your back in a tight stretch something hard presses against your backside. Only then do you register the smell of spiced smoke filling your nostrils and the weight encircling your waist.

Disoriented you try to turn your head but are met with the prickle of stubble. “Did I sleep too late?” You ask groggily as you try to look out the window. The fabric at your hips bunches as wet kisses are trailed down your shoulder. “No, doll. I came to have breakfast in bed.”

Heisenberg’s large hand cups your core before he starts rubbing you with the heel of his palm. Ever the multitasker he fondles your breast through the silk of your night dress with his other hand. Any arguments you had planned to have seeped into your pillow.

The hand on your breast migrates up to your neck. Encompassing the soft column in a tight grip, he pulls your head back. “I was too busy thinking about your tight cunt to get anything done last night, my little minx.” You sigh as his thick cock penetrates you deeply in one slow thrust. Heisenberg’s hips kept a relaxed rhythm that made each stroke drag out your pleasure.

Air was nothing but a concept as black spots filled your vision and high-pitched moans wrestled out of your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let yourself succumb to the bliss that was Heisenberg’s dominating touch.

As daybreak ended and the late morning began, chirping birds covered the sounds of unadulterated sin coming from your cabin. A passerby would think you were being mauled by a Lycan if they came near your door. It doesn’t take long for growls and grunts to morph into soft groans and sighs.

What a way to start your morning.

Heisenberg puffed away at a cigar while sitting on the edge of your bed. You pull on a floor-lengthened, long-sleeved dress that you saved for especially cold days. As you tie your corset you take advantage of the fact that you don’t have to look at the imposing man.

“I saw a picture in my book last night.” Although you attempted to keep your voice neutral, a light tremble makes the last word come out high-pitched. The surprise visit you got wasn’t effective in mellowing out your psyche.

“Is that so?” In your peripheral you watch Heisenberg stomp out his cigar before striding over. Instead of chiding him about burning your flooring, you continue, “Y-yes. I’ve never seen staples that large before.” You were trying your best to be vague. The image seared into your brain didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Nerves get the better of you and you curse when your shaking hands can’t seem to remember how to tie a knot. “Let me lend you a hand.” Heisenberg pushes your hands out of the way before you can protest. Nimble fingers use the laces of the corset to pull you closer. He leans down enough so his lips ghost the shell of your ear. “Not here. Mommy dearest has more than one pair of ears.”

“If not here then when?” You whisper harshly back; frustrated about the waiting game you keep being subjected to. Patience was a virtue and those were hard to come by nowadays.

“Later. I have a couple of loose ends to tie up first.” With a tug, Heisenberg finishes tying up your corset. Turning around you move back to properly stare up at the bulky man. “That was technically a loose end.” Your snark is rewarded with a smirk, “I said a couple.”

A question that was gnawing in your heart comes out before you can think it through, “Am I going to end up like that?” Time feels as though it was standing still while you waited for an answer. A deep chuckle causes the metal around Heisenberg’s neck to clank. “You’d be dead already if that was the case.” Pausing he tips up your chin with his forefinger and thumb to kiss your lips, “And you’re worth all the trouble.”

Heisenberg’s answer didn’t start very comforting but at the end, butterflies erupt in your stomach. Boy did he know how to charm your panties off. After one last kiss that lingers for longer than necessary, the Lord leaves before anyone could come knocking at your door. He was your Lord and you were the lady in waiting. Nothing could be more literal than that.

-

“Note to self, Heisenberg has no concept of time.” You come to the conclusion while jarring the remedies you just finished. “Later” didn’t mean later in the day, but when he found most convenient. It had only been a day, but you were chomping at the bit for answers.

Did this make you a brat? Maybe; but at least you were a justified one. All you’ve been receiving lately were questions upon questions. Shaking your head, you try your best to clear out the deluge of thoughts fighting their way to the surface. You had to distract yourself. Work, eat, read, sleep, repeat. Follow that order and the days will soar by. “Easier said than done,” you mumble out loud.

A soft knocking sounding at your door rips you from your stupor. Smoothing your skirt, you make haste to the door. The sight of Elena makes you almost squeal in joy. Without hesitating you pull the young girl into your home and rush to the stove to start boiling water for tea. Conveniently your kitchen was in the same room as the entrance and makeshift clinic. It was a small cabin after all.

You’re surprised when Elena doesn’t immediately start gabbing away, so you opt to start the conversation while sifting through your cabinets in search of tea bags. “Roxana came to me with her tenth scrap this month! I offered to buy her knee and elbow pads from the Duke, but of course, she refused.” The giggle that leaves Elena is dryer than normal. Example number one on why you get paid to heal and not for small talk.

When you finally manage to find two bags of Chamomile tea you place them in a set of cups you traded for a couple of years ago. “Are you having trouble sleeping?” You spin your head around so fast you almost get whiplash. “W-what?”

Elena points over to the tea, “Chamomile is supposed to help with sleep, right?” Leaning on the counter you chuckle while rubbing your forehead, “Yeah, sorry.” You needed to relax. Hopefully, this tea did the trick, if not you would have to make a rare trip to the shanty bar near the center of town. “I’ve been sleeping, just not for very long. You know how I am.”

Nodding her head Elena changes the subject as fast as she started it, “When are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” Someone was on fire with asking personal questions today. Usually, Elena spent at least an hour telling you about her week before you even got to make one comment.

Straightening you grapple for the right answer, “I would introduce you to my boyfriend if I had one. But lucky for you, you’re still stuck with me. Let’s just hope Anton doesn’t hear the news.” Elena simply shakes her head like an admonishing mother, “Hush now. It will be alright. I would never let something happen to you.” You couldn’t help but falter when you notice how Elena’s eyes drag over your form. Almost like she was searching for something. What exactly she could be trying to gauge, you had no clue.

Before you can make up an excuse the loud whistling of the kettle indicates that the water was done boiling. Immediately you turn around to pour the tea while sneaking in a sigh of relief. Elena gives you a quiet “thank you” when she accepts the cup.

As you watch her take a sip of the tea, the absence of a gold chain captures your attention. You freeze when don’t see the heart-adorned necklace resting along her neck. Ever since you gave it to Elena, she never took it off. She even joked that “as long as I have a neck, I will have the necklace on.”

You wanted to ask, but your instincts seemed to stop you. From the moment she walked into your home something felt… off. There was this warm energy that Elena carried that never ceased to calm you, but at this moment, she was devoid of any sweet sincerity.

Maybe she was just having a bad day. Or maybe the other villagers had finally gotten in her head. “Are you alright?” To her credit, Elena looks genuinely concerned. Your lips lift into your well-practiced fake smile. One that, until today, you never had to use with her. “Of course.”

Looks like that trip to the bar was going to happen sooner than you thought.

-

Amber liquid burns its way down your throat as you attempt to wash away all the concerns you have. The bitter flavor has you sucking your tongue, but the tingle in your brain indicates that the alcohol is already doing its job.

Day drinking was commonplace as each table was occupied. The bar was dingy and had a pungent smell of yeast, but you could care less. What made you shift in your seat however was the whiny voice coming from the corner of the room. Of course, you had to come here at the same time Anton did.

Downing the rest of your drink, you slam the glass on the wet surface. Right as you pass a bag of coin to the bar keep you can feel someone’s presence behind you. “Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” Each word came out more slurred than the last.

Turning around you narrow your eyes at Anton, “Home; and that’s not an invitation for you to follow.” The drunk stumbles his way toward you while pointing an accusatory finger. “Give up the prude act. I know you want me.” You would say he had balls, but only men had those.

Glancing around the room you notice the other patrons staring at the both of you. Great. The last thing you wanted to do was put on a show for everyone. Lowering your voice, you try to reason with him, “Just drop it okay? We can talk about this misunderstanding later if you want.” The later you were referring to was the one Heisenberg went by; probably never.

Instead of backing down, he snags your wrist in a vice grip before you could evade him. When you try to yank yourself away, he only tightens his fist. “You’re not going to make me wait any longer.” Anton tugs you so you fall against him. “All you need is a rough fucking to put you in your place.”

Your stomach roils in protest. Although he was extremely forward in the past, he was never this aggressive. In a way, you blamed yourself for brushing him off for so long. The bastard was the one who needed to be dropped down a few pegs.

Tears spring to your eyes as the pain in your wrist becomes unbearable at his crushing hold, “Please Anton, let go of me! You don’t have to do this!” Why was no one coming to help you? Couldn’t they see he was deranged?

“Put a fucking sock in it!” Anton gets so in your face that the smell of his breath invades your senses and almost makes you gage. “I’m sure you didn’t protest this much when you ran away to leave the rest of your family to die. Without me, you’ll really be a worthless hag.”

Anger bursts through to overshadow your attempts to defuse the situation. You were down being bulldozed by everyone in this Black God-forsaken village. Reeling your other fist back you punch Anton in the face.

The surprise blow makes his grip loosen enough for you to wriggle free. Seizing the opportunity, you kick out blindly. Sick satisfaction fills you when Anton doubles over while holding his crotch. How was that for a “worthless hag”?

“You fucking bitch!” Anton looks up at you in disbelief as he holds his jaw. The blood roaring in your ears made you almost miss his slurred words. This time the slur was from the blood filling in his mouth and not the alcohol.

Emboldened by liquid courage you kneel so that only Anton could hear you, “If I’m a bitch then you’re a filthy pig.” With one last scathing look, you leave the bar before anyone else made the idiotic decision to confront you. All you wanted to do was go home and rub your skin until his smell and touch went away.

The adrenaline starts to wear off while walking through the village. Your hand shakes like a ground-splitting earthquake as try to tuck your hair out of your face. Your one goal was to not make any more enemies and you were doing a piss poor job at that. The only gratification you got was knowing that the only person who could fix Anton’s jaw was you. And there was no way he would dare step foot anywhere near your cabin. At least that’s what you hoped.

When you round the corner, you see Elena walking in the other direction of the path. Her face lights up at the sight of you. “Hey! I came over for our weekly tea, but you weren’t home. Did you have to get errands?”

Your raging nerves are glazed over with a rush of numbness. “W-what are you talking about? We had tea already.” If she sprouted two heads and started flying, you still would not have found that crazier.

Elena tilts her head to the side before breathing out a small laugh. “You really need to take a day off. All those oddly named herbs might be screwing with your head.” It feels as though your limbs are dead weights as Elena hooks her arm with yours as she walks you back home. Her touch was warm, but your heart felt cold.

-

All you could do was pace around the small space as your head barely contained the sheer insanity you were feeling at this moment. You were not crazy. Well… not in the hallucinating full interactions way at the very least.

Rubbing your temples, you analyze every second of your conversation with Elena. Nothing seems to click until what she said earlier makes you stop dead in your tracks. “Hush now. It will be alright. I would never let something happen to you.” You have heard that exact sentiment before. The woman in your nightmares told you that once. Word for word.

Gripped by panic you rush out the door. Without a destination in mind, you run past the other houses and villagers around you. The murmurs at your strange behavior swirl together in an all-consuming way. No matter where you go, or what you do, you can never be left alone. The village people, Anton, the hag, the Duke’s coded messages, and now Elena.

Maybe one person was not trying to tear you down after all; they all were.

It is like your throat is collapsing in on itself. Running between two abandoned houses, you press yourself into the cold exterior. If only you could fuse yourself into the dilapidated structure. Closing your eyes, you try to regain any control you have left.

Despite your efforts, tears start to pour from your eyes as the ringing in your ears intensifies. Each time your body shivers from the bitter cold more raw emotions are forced out to the point where you might fall to your knees from grief. You had never felt this alone since your parents were stolen away from you.

Out of nowhere, something sinks its fingers into your shoulders. Flashes of Anton grabbing you make you switch back into full survival mode. Your scream is cut short when your mouth is quickly covered.

“Stop struggling.” Your assailant’s voice sounds as if it was underwater. Not relenting you try any trick you can muster. Kicking, scratching, and thrashing; anything to be let go. In your hysteria, you manage to land some blows hard enough that they make the other person grunt.

A current of electricity jolts your body. The searing pain was as effective as a slap in the face. Opening your eyes, you are greeted by a disheveled-looking man. His hair was tousled, and splotches of crimson were splattered across the man’s torso up to his neck. What struck you was the way the man’s wild green eyes searched all over your skin.

Upon closer inspection it was not just any man, it was Heisenberg. You bring your shaky hands to Heisenberg’s face. The roughness of his beard on your delicate skin grounded you. This was real. He was real. At this moment you needed that confirmation more than anything else in the world. Before he could open his mouth, you interrupt him, “Hold me.”

Heisenberg doesn’t try to stop you as your legs wrap around his hips and you cling to his neck. For a couple of moments, you simply sit in each other’s embrace. When was the last time a lamb ran into the embrace of a hungry wolf?

Heisenberg takes your wrist in his hand, kissing the blooming bruise, “He will never touch you again.” You should have been shocked that he knew what happened, but you weren’t. Word spread fast and probably even faster when you were a Lord.

“How can you be so sure?” Nothing you tried in the past ever stopped Anton. A dark chuckle vibrates your chest as he wipes away any tears left on your face, “Because I made sure.” The assurance should have made you feel better, but it wasn’t enough.

“I feel like I am going crazy Heisenberg. Please tell me you will not betray me too.” His eyes flash, “What can I say for you to believe me?”

Shaking your head, you pull him closer to emphasize your point, “Words are not enough. I need you to show me.” Heisenberg searches your eyes before he finds the answer he was looking for. You wanted to feel a touch that was safe and familiar.

Normally rough lips descend on you with the lightness of a falling feather. All traces of Anton’s touch on your skin disappear as Heisenberg kisses every inch he can reach. The man against you did not smell of musk and bourbon, but of copper and spiced tobacco. An intoxication combination that was successful in clouding your mind with nothing, but thoughts of Heisenberg.

You moan when he starts to suck on the spot just behind your ear. One of the many erogenous zones that made you push into his body. Heisenberg grunts at your display of need, “Do you want this?” Although your body always communicated your consent, his want to hear it for himself meant more to you than anything else. “I need this. Please.” Your voice breaks as you practically beg. You wanted him to wash away all the pain and torment.

A thumb comes up to pull on your lower lip, “How can I refuse when your pretty little mouth asked so nicely?” After a quick kiss, Heisenberg begins to push up any clothes that dared to get in his way. Hands work with an inhuman speed that before you know it, you are filled so completely it almost hurts. Heisenberg snaps his hips at an unrelenting pace. Each drag of his cock makes you bury your face further into his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure.

Pushing you further into the siding of the house, Heisenberg slides a hand in between your bodies. His fingers start to rub your clit in fast circles that leave you breathless. Each message sends sparks of pleasure up your spine.

Heisenberg was consuming you in a way that left you feeling raw and vulnerable. You offered him your flesh and bones on a silver platter, and he took them without a second thought. What was terrifying was the fact that if he only asked, your heart could be his to take. After this was all said and done, would you have anything left for yourself?

“Fuck, that’s it. Use me for your pleasure, doll. Take it all.” Spurred on by his grunted words you start to meet him in time with every thrust. The additional friction makes the pressure in your core build and build until you didn’t think you could take it anymore. Nails breakthrough skin with unadulterated desperation, but neither of you cared.

Despite the frigid weather, your bodies felt as though they were on fire. Not only that but the air crackled with an intensity so explosive it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. At every turn, the universe warned you of how dangerous Heisenberg was, but the way he worshipped your skin was nothing short of passionate.

When your inner walls start to quiver in anticipation of your orgasm, his thrusts begin to stutter. Heisenberg’s voice was so deep, it was almost unrecognizable, “Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.” You did not know how much you needed permission until you had it. Closing your eyes, you revel in the tension your body releases when your orgasm rolls over you.

“God fucking, dammit!” Heisenberg slams your lips together as warmth begins to flood your core in sharp spurts. There was no finesse in the kiss, but it could not have felt more right. Tongues slide across each other at the same pace as the slow last couple of strokes trying to prolong your joint orgasm. If only you could stay in his arms with him in you, forever.

Your foreheads come to rest together as you exchange every desperate breath. Instead of pulling away, Heisenberg lets you hold him in your iron grip. Nothing felt real anymore except for his touch, his words, and most crucially, him.

-

A lone crow squawks before flying away from the embracing lovers. Despite how small the creature was, it reaches its master in a matter of minutes. An outstretched finger reminiscent of a willowy branch awaits the crow’s arrival.

Mother Miranda’s smile is laced with twisted satisfaction. The intelligent little birds were her eyes and ears around the village. Each conversation and possible outlier eventually reached the ears of the prophet. Just like you had all those years ago. Everything was finally falling into place. Like pieces on a chess board, Mother Miranda was able to maneuver her metal-clad knight to trap her opponent.

The hag instilled in Anton that his fate was to be with the local healer. This was so a large event could be triggered. One that conveniently pushed Anton to attack you publicly.

Mother Miranda had assigned Heisenberg to watch over you under the guise that she wanted to keep tabs on the prominent people in the village. Her true intentions were more coveted than any of her “children” combined.

Heisenberg’s supervision over the girl was going just as she instructed. Although his attack on Anton made her eyebrows raise. After the confrontation, Miranda instructed Heisenberg to send a Lycan to kill Anton. How curious was it for him to do it himself? However, all that mattered now was that the deed was done. Soon the hag would spread to the townsfolk that you used dark magic against Anton to make him infatuated with you and when it went wrong you killed him.

The point of having the villagers turn on you is so you would be forced to come to Mother Miranda for refuge and in turn be prepped for your greater purpose. The next morning Mother Miranda will call Heisenberg and tell him to bring you to the church under the Dimitrescu estate so they can have a meeting and introduce you to the family.

Ever since you were born, Miranda could feel the potential in you. That’s why she had to get your family out of the picture and stop your grandmother from further corrupting your mind. After they were killed, Mother Miranda meticulously planned what would happen to you once you hit maturity.

When she saw you in the flesh at your home today, it only motivated her further. By day’s end, a witch hunt would be assembled. Once the villagers hear of Anton’s death after being last seen with you, they will do all the work for the Black God. Then there will be nowhere else for you to run to except straight to her.

“It’s only a matter of time before you will be ready to come home my darling Eva.”

Large wings encircle Mother Miranda like a giant cocoon. By the time they retract she is not as she once was. Instead of being wrapped in her ornate ropes, she now was adorned with the clothes of a peasant. Once-flawless skin sagged and wrinkled with old age and any traces of blonde hair were now as grey as her eyes. The hag cackles as she makes her way into the village.

May the mayhem begin.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg x you #karl heisenberg imagines #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

wordcount: 6.5k words

summary: As the town’s only healer (the title “Witch” used by your detractors) you try your best to save those under the foot of a false prophet. A wicked agenda was growing its roots and unbeknownst to you, you were at the center of it all. This is a tale of two unlikely people coming together in the name of lust, love, and retribution.

chapter warnings: smut, semi-public sex, light angst, porn with plot

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I: Into the Woods

“The wolf is carnivore incarnate and he's as cunning as he is ferocious; once he's had a taste of flesh then nothing else will do.”

A young woman lived alone in the midst of a cold, bitter winter. Some speculated that she drained the energy of the vulnerable to keep herself warm. For the only way to explain her survival was the doings of dark magic.

Your roaring fireplace and tired eyes would refute those claims, however.

From the outside, your cabin looked like every other residential one in town. The only thing that distinguished yours was the small wooden sign on the door, “Wounded and Ill Welcomed”. Inside lay a makeshift hospital. You considered yourself more of a healer than a doctor though.

Jars of different herbs, salves, and disinfectant fluids were strewn about. There were also tools you collected over the years and homemade bandages/ wraps you made from various cloths. Although it wasn’t much, it was effective enough. Your kitchen also ended up storing more of your supplies than actual food. Even your “work” seemed to seep into your small bedroom.

Books upon books sat atop your dresser and desk. Many of them were botany and medical books The Duke was able to obtain for you. At this point, you had probably read each one five times. You craved to learn more. Before the village was under the control of the Black God it was a pleasant place to live.

That’s what your grandmother used to tell you at least. She was the one who fed your thirst for knowledge. You would always find old books she snuck under your covers. It was your own little secret. Unfortunately, it had to be. It was important for people not to know your mind wasn’t focused on the prophet Mother Miranda. Those same books sat on your nightstand to this day.

Small sniffles fill the space of your home. A boy from the village came running to you in such a crying mess you were barely able to understand what he was saying. Turns out he had gotten a little too adventurous for his own good and gave himself some deep scrapes. You move the child’s leg back and forth to test his freshly bandaged knee.

Plucking the last piece of candy from your jar you hold it out to the little boy. “Let this be your lesson as to why you need to stay away from the Reservoir. Next time a giant sea creature might gobble you up.” The boy finally rewards you with a giggle as he takes the candy from you. Fishing around in his pocket he produces a pouch that holds 50 lei.

You’re surprised that during his tumble he managed to not lose the coin. After you take the payment you mother the boy one more time, “Stay out of trouble now!’’ He leaves you with a meek “yes ma’am” before scurrying back home. A heavy sigh rushes out your nose. You couldn’t figure out who injured themselves more; the kids or the town drunks. One was definitely better to tolerate than the other though.

You bask in the newfound silence as you clean everything up. Today was full of people coming in and out. Although it was good for your pockets, it concerned you. Not only were Lycan attacks taking their toll on the village, but people have been letting their fear cause them to obtain easily avoidable injuries.

You take stock of your inventory and put together a list of everything you would to gathering the next day. Some stuff you were able to forage, while others only The Duke could supply. That included your coveted bowl of sweets. It was something you did for the younger people of the village. (Or it was used to convince some sniveling men to stop squirming.)

Life as the only healer in town was far from easy. Even so, your conscious wouldn’t let you turn your back. Not again.

Locking the front door, you decide to turn in for the day. You had a lot of work to do tomorrow. Not even bothering to change you flop on top of your bed and knock out the second you close your eyes.

-

Sun shining onto your face through your dingy bedroom window wakes you. A groan slips past your lips as you squint your eyes. If only you could sleep the whole day away. Sadly, days off weren’t a thing you could afford. It takes all your willpower to pull yourself out of bed and get changed.

You pull on a cropped sleeve brown dress that has a V-shaped neckline. The dress flowed down to just above your shins. Short by conservative standards, but the perfect length for traveling through the woods. If the fabric was any longer it would snag on all the overgrown plant life. You learned that lesson when you almost ripped your skirt to shreds on a broken branch. The thought of having to run back through town in only your undergarments was enough to dissuade you.

To keep your modesty, you tie your black cloak around your neck. You had the item since you were a teenager. It was a gift from your mother on the last birthday you got to spend with her. No matter how many times you attempted to be convinced to get something warmer, you couldn’t get yourself to get rid of it.

With only slight difficulty you synch a darker brown corset around your waist. There wasn’t a lot you had control over, so you tried to with the way you dressed. Some older women of the village gave you judgmental stares, but when did they not? Almost stumbling out the door you manage to pull your boots on. Stupid clunky things.

Wrapping your cloak tightly around your body you try to shield yourself from the harsh cold as you start your errands. On your path to the altar, a friendly face pops into view. “Look who decided to see the light of day!”

You shack your head at the young woman Elena. Not only did you grow up with her, but her father Leonardo came to you with a new injury nearly every week. The man worked hard to provide for himself and his daughter. You respected him for that.

“Just because I don’t skip around the village doesn’t mean I don’t go outside Elena.” The girl’s smile doesn’t falter. “That would be quite a sight.” She wasn’t wrong though. You were so busy either healing people or reading books that you didn’t venture outside unless you had to.

Continuing forward, you notice how she takes the liberty to join your walk. You were successful at keeping other people at arm’s length; however, you couldn’t help but have a soft spot for Elena. How could you not when she was always so eager to talk to you? It could get very lonely in such a secluded place, especially with the lack of people your age.

For a while, you enjoyed each other’s company in silence. That was until Elena leaned towards you, her voice just above a whisper. “Rumor has it that when you’re not healing people, you are repeating incantations in the dark.” At her tone, you can tell she is merely teasing you, but those rumors were actual whispers around town.

The locals took slight issue with your makeshift clinical. Someone even yelled at you once about how you were a non-believer and Mother Miranda was all the village needed to bring them good health. Many who had this mindset were too far gone to even try to convince them otherwise. Not you though, never.

Suspicions of your intentions never ceased to loom over you. The old hag of the village even paid you a visit once. She was the last thing you expected when you turned around to the sound of the door of your home opening.

“I’ve heard a lot about you lately my dear. I trust you’ve been holding your faith in Mother Miranda close.” The hag gestures to your shrine that was tucked in the corner. Despite your disdain, you knew how to play the game. Was it the nicest one you could have made? Not by a longshot; but it served its purpose.

Almost like she was analyzing you the older woman walks slowly up to you. “Your ability to heal shines bright. Do you covet that gift?” You could tell where she was going with this. There was no such thing as someone creating their own success. “I am only a conduit of Mother Miranda’s blessing. I gratefully collect from the land she graced us with and help the village to assist in her vision.”

The words were masked in a fake softness. On the inside, you wanted to tell her that Mother Miranda only brought death to the village she supposedly protected. Of course, you weren’t brain-dead enough to even mutter those words alone. As much as you wanted to lash out you shifted the energy to other outlets. The smile that spread across the old hag’s face at your answer gave you chills to this day.

Despite her devotion to Mother Miranda, Elena is a smart enough girl to see the difference between fact and fiction. “Ah, I see. I’ll make sure to be a little quieter next time. Be careful talking with me, Elena. You don’t want to be my next blood sacrifice.” Your heart warms at the laugh that racks her body.

Looking up you notice that you’ve reached the gates that lead into the area of the altar. “Tell your father that I miss him, but wish not to see him anytime soon.” You tense slightly when you’re enveloped in a tight hug. When Elena pulls back you smooth out your clothes. “I will!” You watch the girl for a moment as she heads off. She was too nice for her own good.

It takes your whole-body weight to push the gate open. You’re greeted with a large caravan and an even larger man as you round the corner. “How lovely to see you, my dear! I trust that business is going well?” A genuine smile is sent your way. Happiness, or jolliness rather, was a rare thing to come by. It felt nice to be on the receiving end of it.

“Too well for my liking. It seems as the days drift by people are becoming more stupid or careless or both.” Extending your hand, you pass The Duke your list. He scans the paper before tucking it in his breast pocket. Some items you could purchase today, but others he would need to purposely seek out for you. “I would injure myself frequently as well if it meant a beautiful woman would be taking care of me.” You laugh at The Duke’s friendly teasing. Strangely the large man was the most normal person you interact with. He always had a friendly smile, great jokes, and even better merchandise. No wonder he was such a great salesman.

“Oh, hush. I bet you have a harem of women from all over the world Duke.” Two bags full of the items you requested are placed in front of you. You note how fast and efficient The Duke always is. It would have freaked you out if you paid too much attention to it.

“Are you trying to flatter your way to a discount?” Double-checking your lei, you hand the merchant the pouch they sit in. “If only it was ever that easy.” That earns a laugh from him. “I shall acquire the additional items you requested by the end of the week. I hope that is satisfactory.” The timing was perfect. You always made sure to ask for certain items when they run low and not when they run out. It was too risky to gamble about.

In a rare gesture, you smile at the man. “Of course. I don’t know what I would do without you.” When you turn to head back from where you came from a small cough catches your attention. “Do stay safe my dear. Wolves like to wear wool this time of year.” Without another word, you make haste back home.

You considered The Duke’s words carefully. What he told you always hinted at something deeper. Someone had it out for you, that was apparent enough. Figuring out who was the difficult part. Unfortunately, you had ruffled quite a few feathers over time. In your “line of work,” you interacted with the entire village.

You were still grateful for The Duke’s concern though. At this point, the two of you had a good understanding of the other. It was great to have someone who watched your back. Everyone was out for themselves, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

Halfway back home the load in your arm starts to wear on you. This was a workout in itself. When you try to juggle both bags while unlocking your door, one slips out of your arm. You watch in horror as it falls to the ground. Before it can hit the mud two hands swoop in to catch it just in time.

Looking up you go to thank the person over and over until you see who it is. Anton is standing in front of you with the cockiest grin you’ve seen on him yet. If only you had the courage to just smack it clean off. “Looks like I’m your knight in shining armor.”

Your mouth makes a thin line in a small attempt at a smile, “Looks so.” Of all people why did he have to be the one milling around? You go to take the other bag from him, but he steps out of reach. “A fragile thing like yourself shouldn’t be carrying so much. That’s why you need a strong man to help you.” Strong man? That descriptor wasn’t accurate for Anton. Fat asshole with an even bigger superiority complex? Now that was more like it.

The poor excuse of a man had been trying to get with you for longer than you could remember. To be fair you were really the only eligible option. Thankfully for Elena, her father scared any creeps off. You didn’t have such a luxury.

Finally getting the door open, Anton follows you inside. Was there a giant sign over your head today that said, “please talk to me” that you didn’t know about? When he stands next to you to put your bag down the pungent stench of alcohol wafts toward you. Anton was a notorious drunk.

“I’m surprised your head isn’t shoved inside an outhouse at this time.” To your dismay, Anton laughs at your comment that was meant to be a dig. One of his hands comes to rest on the table so he can lean closer to you. “Aren’t you going to show your gratitude?”

Nerves start to consume you. “T-thank you for being useful for once.” Anton narrows his eyes at you. He normally wasn’t this pushy, but he wasn’t drunk enough yet to be aggressive. “I think you can do better than that.” You try to think fast. As he goes to move closer you quickly pull out a piece of candy and hold it in front of his face. He is taken by surprise but accepts it anyway. “Playing hard to get? We’ll see how that goes next time.” His words come out more threatening than playful.

Before he leaves Anton takes ahold of your hand that still sat in the air. He kisses the back of it swiftly enough so you can’t move out of the way. You try your best to suppress a grimace. Seemingly satisfied with himself, Anton sees his way out.

Right when the door closes you practically rip open the new bottle of disinfectant you bought and lather your hand in it. That man had to have SOME kind of disease; you were sure of it.

After a few minutes, you finally can collect yourself. Although that was by far not the worst thing that has ever happened to you, the look in his eyes always made your stomach churn in the worst way imaginable. You pray that someday he finally drinks himself into the grave.

Shaking your head, you start to put away everything you bought. Something at the bottom of the bag catches your eye. Pulling the item out you smile. It was a new book. The Duke had given you a novel titled “Pride and Prejudice.” Glancing over the contents you see that it’s a romance novel. Your collection was large, but you had very few of those. They tended to get you too hot and bothered. Even so, you decide to read it tonight. You had to thank The Duke the next time you saw him.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-

It’s mid-evening by the time you make it deep into the woods. Your last “errand” of the day was to gather herbs and plant life you had run low of. Although your visits to the town merchant were frequent, similar could not be said about venturing away from the village. Distant howls were all you needed to have you stay away for as long as possible.

Alas, some things were too necessary for your practice for you to go even a day without. You made sure to grip your knife tightly in your hand. It was small, but it was also very sharp.

Scanning the ground, you notice a growth of what your books called, “Anethum graveolens”. It was commonly just called dill though; that first word was too much of a mouthful. The plant was one of your favorites. You often boiled the dill seeds to treat stomach aches. The tea it created was quite nice; it had a flavor similar to citrus with slightly earthy undertones. Even the stems of the dill could be used to treat kidney and heart diseases. Studying and collecting plants were the only thing to bring you excitement nowadays, but you were content with that.

You set your cloth-lined basket on the ground and bend over to cut off pieces of the dill. To make sure the plants keep growing you only take what you need and nothing more. Lost in your task you hum aimlessly. The song was an old Romanian lullaby your grandmother would sing to you every night before bed. It was a soft melody that helped distract you from the world around you.

It seems as though you get too distracted because the interruption of another voice almost makes you scream in surprise.

“Well, well. Look at what we have here. You look like your straight out of a fable, doll.” The hair on the back of your neck stands up. That voice was unmistakable. Nothing good ever came to anyway who encountered Lord Heisenberg. At least that’s what you had always been told.

An elder of the village once told you to be cautious, because the Lord and his domineering sister captured, “pretty little things like you.” That warning feels all too real when your knife is pulled from your hand by an invisible force and thrown in the basket beside you.

Despite your nerves, you straighten up and turn towards the man. “Were you never taught that it’s not polite to stare OR sneak up on women, especially in the woods of all places.” You had the same tone you saved for scolding the children of the village.

A surprised laugh leaves Lord Heisenberg. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t a sight to behold. He lifted a leather-clad finger to wipe a stray tear that fell from under his dark shades. Defined lines and veins protruded from his skin that trailed underneath his many layers. Heisenberg’s hammer was slung on top of his shoulders, the metal items around his neck shaking slightly. You couldn’t help but tighten your thighs together.

Heisenberg pulls himself together after a full minute. “Spunky and a nice ass? What a pleasant surprise. Do you always collect flowers like that?” This is the one time you wished you had worn that damned skirt. Your face heats with a mix of arousal and anger. “I’ll have you know that I’m not just collecting flowers. I’m an experienced healer who is foraging. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

When he laughs again you catch a glint of canines that were much larger than the average man. At that moment you’re reminded of have dangerous he is. “You’ve got fight. Not many people have the balls to talk back. Well, and live afterward that is.”

Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

When Lord Heisenberg advances you step back. Leaves crunch under your feet at each backward step you take. Before you know it your backed up into the tree behind you. Sharp bark bites into your back, but you don’t dare to move even an inch.

Heisenberg moves his hammer off his shoulders. Instead of smashing your head in, he merely tosses the giant creation of metal beside you. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you. Would have been a shame if a Lycan tore into that pretty body of yours.” In an instant, he is invading your personal space. His hand comes up to easily pull the knot of string holding your cloak up.

When it falls to rest on top of the leaves below your feet, Heisenberg touches the curve of your waist. The Lord smelled of heavy tobacco and metal. It should have turned you off, but the masculine scent only added to your attraction. Logic screamed at you to get away, but your body shuttered in anticipation.

He seems to mistake your reaction for fear. “No, ‘I’m so sorry my dear Lord Heisenberg?’ or ‘I shall pray to Mother Miranda for your forgiveness my Lord?’” Pure disdain is laced in his questions. It was clear that he loathed the brainwashed fools who spent their life worshipping the so-called God. You were raised to be better than that though.

“If you expect me to grovel at your knees, you’d be sorely mistaken. I don’t kneel for anyone; especially not false prophets.”

At your words, Heisenberg tears off his shades and throws them haphazardly near his hammer. Green eyes meet yours in a heated stare-off. “Is that so?” His gaze on you is so strong it makes you squirm. You’ll definitely come back to this memory when you’re alone in bed.

Lips descend on you to glide against your jaw. You try your best to suppress your quickening breaths. The swell of your breasts doesn’t go unnoticed, however. “Oh, I like you, little healer.” He only breaks away from you to assess your body.

It was no mistake the type of state you were in. Your pupils were blown wide, face flushed, thighs clenched, and chest heaving. Despite all the sanity still left in your brain, you wanted him.

“Where have you been hiding? You’re clearly local. I would remember you, especially dressed like this.” Heisenberg’s voice came out deeper than it did before.

Even though you were trembling you try to regain some confidence. “What are you trying to imply? If you’re trying to give me fashion advice…“ You make a show of looking over his outfit, “I don’t think you have the credentials to do so.”

Heisenberg puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Not a fan? I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you see what’s underneath.” You have to suppress a gasp when you trail down to where he motioned. A large bulge was straining against the front of his pants. Any snarky remarks that appear in your head melt out of your mind. “Cat got your tongue doll?” More like a wolf got your tongue. At this point, a Lycan would be more merciful than him. The look in your eyes must have said enough because he grins wide and proud.

You watch as Heisenberg uses his teeth to slide off one of his gloves. Just that image alone causes a new wave of heat to travel through you. You felt almost embarrassed. When was the last time you even had sex? You were propositioned many times, but you prided yourself in having standards. The rugged and primal nature of Lord Heisenberg was stirring something deep inside you that you thought didn’t even exist anymore.

Calloused fingers trail up your thigh. Without having to be asked you spread your legs for him. Heisenberg slides across your clothed slit. Even with little to no contact you were already soaked. Something that can only be compared to a growl comes from the man. “Holy shit. Today must be my lucky fucking day. Are you always this wet? I could slip into you right now.” The vulgarity of his words makes you blush. There was no way you were going to answer his question though. The shame running through you was already bad enough.

Heisenberg grabs your hand and moves it to the hem of your dress. Getting the message, you pull the fabric until you’re in full view of his greedy eyes. You had to be bright red by this point. Without another word, Heisenberg slides your panties aside before pushing a digit inside of you.

A grunt comes from the Lord at how tightly you wrap around him. “I guess you don’t dislike me that much, huh?” You moan in response when he starts pumping his finger. Fabric crumples in your white-knuckled grip as you revel in the foreign feeling.

Your lack of a filter has gotten you into many situations, but none like this. Due to years of abstaining from sex, the small friction is enough to make you pant. Before you’ve fully adjusted another digit slips inside you at the same time Heisenberg’s thumb brushes against your sensitive clit. Incoherent moans are all you can manage. That mixed with the sounds of your wetness coating his fingers is beyond obscene.

Heisenberg buries his face in your neck as he fucks you. His fingers were much thicker than your own. They gave you a sharp burn that quickly melted into pure pleasure. Not minding your surroundings, you cry out when he hits the most sensitive spot inside you. In your haze, you reach a hand down to palm his erection. You were so close it almost hurt. The second your walls start to quiver around Heisenberg he stops.

A curse leaves him before he pulls out of your slick sex. Before you can protest wet kisses are trailed along your neck. “If you’re going to cum it’s going to be on my cock.” You whimper when sharp teeth graze your skin. Heisenberg’s words gust out through warm breath, “Hop on.”

Not waiting for you to respond Heisenberg pulls you up and you instinctually wrap your legs around him. Your hands scramble to his shoulders for some type of leverage. Rough lips crash onto your own as you’re slammed against the bark.

Heisenberg’s hips trap you against the tree. Not that you planned on going anywhere. It had been so long since you let yourself indulge in your desire. You reason with yourself that with all the hard work you do for the village you deserve this.

You gasp when Heisenberg grinds into you so hard you can practically feel his full length. This gives him the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. Each slide of his tongue made it feel like he was trying to savor the taste of you. All the wanted attention was intoxicating.

His touch doesn’t leave you as you hear his belt and zipper come undone. Metal manipulation could be more convenient than you originally imagined. Leaning back Heisenberg pulls himself free from the confines of his clothing. You can’t help but moan at the size of his manhood.

Not only was he long, but so thick. It was bigger than his personality, which was already huge. Your conversation seemed to have riled him up because he was already rock-hard.

“Nothing to say doll?” A cocky grin is set on his face while he fists himself. Only one comment from earlier is thumping around your overheated brain. “I-I’m a fan.” Your comment comes out meek, but still gets the heated reaction you hoped for.

The sound of fabric being torn echoes around the woods. You only realize what just happened when a cool breeze hits your now-exposed sex. Heisenberg tore your panties off.

“H-hey! I liked those!” Any frustration quickly melts away when his cock glides in between your folds. “Not as much as you’re going to like this.”

He didn’t have a shameful bone in his body. The unshakeable confidence was doing something to you. Not even needing to use his hand he pushes just the tip inside.

You throw your head back and try to suck in any air you could get. Heisenberg was almost too big. As though he read your mind, Heisenberg brings his thumb back to your clit. You moan when he slips in more. A groan of his own tumbles out. “That’s it. You can take it.” Not long after that, his groin is flush against you. Something noticeably shifts in Heisenberg. “Hold on tight, doll.”

He pulls all the way out only to slam back in again. Heisenberg pounds into you with manic force. One of his hands moves up to cup the back of your head. This gives him better leverage to thrust into you without hitting your head against the harsh wood. Your nails dig into his jacket. Every high-pitched whine you give spurs him on even more. You were truly being fucked like an animal.

A familiar pleasure builds inside you. Each time he pushed deeper you felt more and more like you were going to burst. “I’m going to, oh fuck, cum Lord-“

“Heisenberg.” His name comes out deep and raw. The sound was like an untamed beast. “Call me fucking Heisenberg.” You answer by nodding your head. That doesn’t seem to be sufficient enough. The hand that’s holding the back of your head flexes tightly into your hair.

“Say it.” Heisenberg tugs your head forward. Warm breath swirls together as your lips sit mere inches apart. His hips still snapped into you at an unrelenting speed. “Say my name with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

This man was going to be the death of you. “Please, Heisenberg! I’m so close!” Fingers rub and press against your pulsing clit. Your breath catches at the same time your walls squeeze around Heisenberg. At that exact moment, you are enveloped in his body.

You could feel him almost tremble as he chased his high. A noise comes out of Heisenberg that for a second, scares you. Teeth meet your neck again. This time they lay their claim when sharp canines break through the skin. The pain made a sinful concoction with the overwhelming pleasure. You tighten your arms around his shoulders when your orgasm finally hits.

Each wave of your release is euphoric. Any stress that sat on your shoulders was lifted even if it was just for a moment. This felt too good. He felt too good.

Moans and cries of Heisenberg’s name fill the woods. Cawing birds and howls can be heard in the distance. Heisenberg’s nails dig into the flesh of your hips. Loud groans vibrate your neck as warmth spreads in your groin. Even through the process of coming down from your orgasm, he continues to rock into you.

Your brain feels like pliable mush. Never did you ever imagine that sex could be like this. Reality washes back over you when you feel Heisenberg pull out of you. Coldness washes over you at the loss. Metal clatters as he tucks himself back in his pants. When he leans back you slide your legs off his hips, only to almost crumple to the ground. Strong hands grab your waist to steady you.

Well. There goes your ability to move for the rest of the week.

You narrow your eyes when Heisenberg laughs. “Careful now little healer. We don’t need you messing yourself up anymore now do we?” His knuckles move to ghost against the dark bruise that is already forming on your neck. Thankfully you had the right ingredients to fix that problem. The last thing you need is to give more fuel to the rumor fire.

Using the tree behind you as support, you stand straight. Wetness soaks down to your inner thighs. When you scan the ground for your undergarment a cough makes you look up. Heisenberg puffs away at a cigar in one hand while he dangles your panties in between his fingers. “Looking for this?”

“Yes.” No humor is evident in your tone. The thought of walking home with no barrier makes a chill run down your spine. That is far from your definition of a nice stroll. Before you can go to snatch it from him, Heisenberg shoves the material in the pocket of his coat.

Pervert.

“Lighten up little healer. They were ripped. Wouldn’t have done you much good either way.” To your dismay, he seemed to enjoy the nickname he picked out for you. At least it was way more friendly than the name the other villagers call you.

You mentally curse at yourself that simply watching him smoke and taunt you was making you earn a warm flush again. How much more pathetic could you get? Reaching down you smooth out your dress and pick up your cloak with a shaky hand.

“What am I supposed to do now? I have a long walk back.” Okay, maybe it would be more of a hobble than a walk. Heisenberg’s small smirk exposes that he is likely thinking the same thing. To all things good and holy left in this world you swore you would get him back somehow.

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours. Let’s just say that my… scent will keep any stragglers away from you.” You blink dumbly at his response. Stragglers? Gears slowly turn in your head as your brain works its way out of its fucked-out state. Oh. He must mean the Lycans that tend to wander close to the village.

That wasn’t what you were asking, but the concept intrigues you. His scent on you is all you need to keep them at bay? The thought is oddly comforting.

You sit in silence for a moment not knowing what to say. Thank you for the best sex of my life see you around? You didn’t know the protocol for this kind of stuff. Especially concerning the most powerful man in the entire village.

Staying against the tree you watch as Heisenberg puts his shades back on. His hammer levitates back to its original place on his shoulder. Smoke billows from him while he regards you one last time. “That was fun. I’ll leave you to go back to your… what was it?” He gestures his hand as if he was trying to pluck the answer from the air. “Foraging! That’s right. Foraging. Till we meet again, little healer.”

At the end of his sentence, he gives a comical bow before turning around. And just like that, he left from whence he came. Your mind grapples to process what the fuck just happened. One minute you were fangirling over some dill you found and the next you were being pounded into a tree by Lord Heisenberg. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any crazier.

A small part of you wished it all didn’t happen so quickly. You knew it was silly, but you would have liked for him to stay with you longer. Soreness flares in your body when you bend down to grab your discarded items. You fasten your cloak around your neck and rest your basket in the crook of your arm. Sighing you smooth a hand over your face.

You couldn’t deny that you loved every second of what he did to you. It irked you to admit that you were already craving more. Not even bothering to fix your hair, you pull the hood of your cloak over your head. You did not look forward to the walk you had ahead of you.

By the time you made it to the village, the sun was starting to go down. With a sore neck and shaky legs, you manage to only stumble a couple of times on your way back home. You even managed to harvest a couple more plants along the path. Thankfully, whatever real God was out there made sure that no one decided to come up to you again as you approached your home.

Placing your basket on the supplies counter you sigh. The amount you were able to forage was sufficient, but not as much as you would have hoped for. It wasn’t like it was entirely your fault though. If Heisenberg hadn’t introduced himself with his dick, you could have collected more.

A new sense of self-loathing washes over you. In retrospect you let yourself get fucked like a whore by a man you quite literally only met seconds prior. Putting your face in your hand you let yourself laugh. At least it was good sex.

When you shift your body, you’re reminded of the sticky sensation between your legs. Thankfully, you had a showerhead that was controlled by a pull-down handle. It was often used to quickly rinse off people with more severe injuries. Or it was used for times like now when bathing outside felt less than savory.

Grabbing an old towel, you are more than happy to strip off your clothing. Once you are finished washing up you tend to the bruising, soreness, and light scratches. The light pangs of pain are a teasing reminder of the pleasure that outweighed it. If someone stumbled on you like this, they would think you got into a fight.

Not wanting to dwell on your afternoon, you lock yourself in your room and slip on a night dress. Although it wasn’t too late for you to be working, you couldn’t be bothered. Exhaustion had finally sunk its claws into you.

“Pride and Prejudice” is nestled in your hands as you climb into bed. You can’t help but groan when your soar body makes contact with the sheets. No medicine you owned could do anything about that.

Sinking further into your bed, you let yourself relax. The quiet moments before going to sleep were your favorite. That was prime reading time. The oil lamp on your nightstand kept you company as you read the new book.

On more than one occasion you find your thoughts drifting from the page to somewhere else; Mr. Darcy morphed into Heisenberg and Elizabeth Bennet into you. It wasn’t a crime to let yourself drift into fantasy land. Not long after that your body finally succumbs to sleep. The book lays forgotten on your lap as light snores slip past your lips.

Something flutters nearby. The sound makes you slightly shift, but you were too deep in your sleep to be alerted. Unbeknownst to you, a single crow sits just outside your window. Watching.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

a/n: The dill thing is a real fact by the way. I did light research on Romanian plants used for medicine just for this lol. It was an interesting read.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg x you #karl heisenberg imagines #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐈𝐕)

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

wordcount: 6k words

summary: Revelations change the course of your relationship. You decide you will take any part of Heisenberg you can get. No matter the label.

chapter warnings: smut, light angst, light fluff, porn with plot, eventual romance

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IV: Understanding

The walk to the giant factory was a blur to you. Awe and shock kept you from even considering pulling from Heisenberg’s grasp. He was taking you to his home. Although “home” was too warm of a term for such a clinical structure, the gesture wasn’t lost on you.

From what you had heard over the years, no one besides the Lord himself had ever been inside the factory. Unlike Lady Dimitrescu he didn’t make a habit of taking villagers to do his bidding.

No. Instead, Heisenberg seemed fond of bothering and fucking young healers trying to make an honest living. You cringe at your bitterness.

On a regular day, you never stooped to being so petty, but the insufferable man knew how to push all your buttons. Some made you go weak in the knees and others made you contemplate murder.

When you reach a set of large doors leading inside, they swing open on their own. No matter how many times Heisenberg used his powers it still baffled you.

Before you knew it, you were being dragged through seemingly endless corridors. Loud machinery and low groans were the only sounds that accompanied your journey. Your imagination fills with the possibilities of what, or what things, could be making those noises.

During the whole walk, Heisenberg had been concerningly quiet. Despite any lingering fears, the way he squeezed your wrist reassured you. Heisenberg stops short suddenly causing you to collide with his hard back. When you look up to glare at him you notice your surroundings.

You and Heisenberg were standing in the middle of what looked like a living space. In the past, you tried to picture how he might live. Was he the type to decorate or did he only own the essentials? Another part of you wondered if had domestic things at all. You thought maybe he was above having such necessities.

In hindsight that was a silly conclusion. The room had a layout similar to some of the smaller houses in the village. A kitchen with a one-chair table sat on one side, which only solidified the fact Heisenberg didn’t have any guests. You hated the relief that filled you at that confirmation.

There was only a brown leather couch and a seemingly handmade wooden table in the middle of the room. Across the room was an open door that when you craned your head, you saw held a bed. To your right another door leads out to, what you surmised, was a bathroom.

Despite the clutter of some scrap metal, everything was surprisingly organized. As normal as it all was, decorations were sparse. Either Heisenberg didn’t know how to or didn’t care to personalize his living space. Ideas of what you would personally add to touch up the place swirl around in your head.

Before you can investigate further, you’re lifted by your hips and carried into Heisenberg’s bedroom. You squeal when you’re thrown rather roughly onto his mattress. Bouncing slightly, your sprawled wide at the impact, “What are you doing?”

Although what you really wanted to ask was, “What are we doing?”. One minute you’re completely ignored then the next you’re being swept off your feet. Literally.

Heisenberg gives you a pointed look. “You’re one to talk doll. Were you trying to get yourself killed?” You prop yourself on your elbows and glare, “That doesn’t concern you. Your absence made that clear enough.”

“I said I was busy.” Seriously? This man was infuriating. “So was I! I also was the day you busted into my home, but that didn’t stop you from fucking me!” The air seems to still at your outburst. Goosebumps prickle your skin when Heisenberg lets out a dark chuckle. “Cute of you to think that was anything close to me fucking you.”

You watch in disbelief as Heisenberg shreds his clothes off, not breaking eye contact for even a second. First to go were his hat, coat, and glasses. Without a care in the world, he throws each item to the floor. Your mouth drops open when you finally get to see the muscular expanse of his chest.

Now you could understand why someone would worship him. Heisenberg was bare head to toe with the only exception being his trousers. The bed dips as his knees cage your bent legs. You don’t move an inch when Heisenberg slides your satchel off and takes his gloves that were still clutched in your hand before discarding them on the floor.

His hand tangles in your hair before smashing your lips together. Unlike the kiss in the woods, this one had a burning passion behind it. It felt as though a fire that was simmering inside of you was ignited into a full force of destruction. When you try to touch his chest, Heisenberg yanks you back with an almost painful tug. “You need a reminder of who is in charge.”

One of the pieces of scrap metal on the floor fly over to wrap itself around your wrists. The makeshift restraint binds your wrists together in front of your abdomen, effectively pushing your breasts together. Not having your arms to support you, you fall back on the mattress.

With the strength only a man with his power can possess, Heisenberg rips off your corset along with your dress in one swift movement. Because your corset acted as support, you were left in only your panties. A growl comes from Heisenberg as he drinks in the sight of you at his mercy.

His animalistic actions make you flush a deep crimson color. In all your other relationships you were the more dominant one, so being taken so powerfully was foreign to you. You make a last-ditch effort to regain a semblance of control, “Last time I checked you were the one who came to me. Not the other way around.”

Another piece of metal clamps over your mouth. You stare at Heisenberg with wide-eyed disbelief. When you try to snap at him, only muted muffles could be heard. “Much better.” You want to be mad, but that quickly is forgotten when his mouth descends on your breasts.

When Heisenberg swirls his talented tongue on one of your taut nipples, he kneads the soft flesh of your other breast. Your wrists pull upwards at the metal binding as you moan. Green eyes stare up at you with a sparkle of humor. That bastard.

Each suck and caress of his mouth made your body writhe. You had to dig the back of your head into the mattress to suppress yourself from mewling. If he wanted to see you submit to him, he had to work for it.

Your wiggling is rewarded with a sweet sting from his teeth nipping you. “Just as feisty, huh?” Heisenberg nips and licks up your body until he reaches your ear. You shiver when his mouth rubs against the shell of your ear, “I’m sure we can fix that real quick doll.”

A muffled squeal comes from you when you’re flipped onto your stomach. Heisenberg pulls your legs up, so your backside is propped up by your knees. The side of your head rests on the mattress and you can’t see anything until calloused fingers brush your hair off your face.

Heisenberg’s hand trails from your neck, down your spine, leaving sparks of heat in its path. When he reaches your ass, he gives a short yet hard smack. You flinch at the surprise impact, but the pain morphs into pleasure as he quickly snakes his fingers under your panties to rub your clit.

“Already soaked for me? Should have known you liked it when I use you like my personal fuck toy.” Shamefully you did. You wanted nothing more than to have Heisenberg rip you apart only to sew you back together.

The fabric of your panties is pulled to the side right before his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your strangled moan is more than audible through the metal. A clear indicator of you giving in to him.

Heisenberg’s scruff stimulates your sensitive sex at each shift of his face. His rough mouth is contrasted by the tenderness in the way he gently squeezed your thighs; rubbing his thumbs in slow circles against the shaking limbs.

He is greedy in the way he teases and tastes you. Groans vibrate you in a way that makes you in turn moan. Heisenberg had a way of being entirely selfish while pleasing you. He was the type of man that didn’t just fuck a woman, but completely devour her. Ruining her for any poor man to follow.

Just as you were being ruined now.

His ministrations only cease when you came two times. Or was it three? They blended so closely together you couldn’t decipher it anymore. Somewhere between the first and second your panties were ripped off of you for the second time this month. What an odd record to have.

A crude popping sound comes from where you were joined when Heisenberg pulls back. “Even sweeter than I remembered.”

After leaving one last kiss on your wet core, Heisenberg kneels behind you. When he tugs your bottom half flush against him, you can feel how hard his cock is straining inside his pants. A low grunt leaves him as he rocks his hips.

You want to scream as Heisenberg continues to rut against you for what felt like ages; the fabric of his pants rubbing harshly on your overstimulated core. This was a losing battle from the start and at this point, you didn’t care about your pride. In your attempt for more contact, you push against Heisenberg’s hard-clothed length.

Clanking metal tickles your senses and you only realize the source when a warm, heavy weight slides against your slit. Now, this was torture. Heisenberg was so close to where you craved him, but he was still denying you. Squirming you try to create some friction that will relieve your ache.

Your desperation makes him chuckle cruelly, “Do you want me to claim that sweet little pussy of yours?” Even in your restrained state, he made sure this was what you wanted. You hated to admit that this was more so what you needed.

The metal around your mouth is pulled off by an invisible force and slams into the wall. “Say it.” Bashfulness chooses the wrong moment to flood through you. It’s not like you hadn’t begged him before, but you had never been explicit about it.

At your hesitation, Heisenberg strokes the back of your neck. “Let me hear the words.” He leans over you to kiss in between your shoulder blades, his breath fanning over your skin. “Tell me how much you want my fucking cock princess.”

Fuck. That new nickname was doing crazy things to not only your arousal but your heart. “Take all of me, Heisenberg. I need your cock inside of me. I need you.” You manage to get the words out through a whispered mewl. Your efforts are rewarded with another kiss followed by one of his signature low chuckles that held promise rather than humor.

“That’s my good girl.” Heisenberg waste no time as he sheaths himself inside your aching sex with one hard thrust. A blissful sigh puffs from your lips at the stretch you missed and fantasized about. You don’t even care when he doesn’t wait for you to adjust before moving.

Heisenberg’s hand stays on your neck while the other controls your hip with possessive force. The movements of his hips were harsh and punishing in their quick slams against you, but his grips on your body were soft and dare you hope, tender?

Grunts, skin slapping, and wet sounds that on a normal day would make you blush like a virgin, only heighten the carnality of your desire. Consequences be damned.

Each thrust of his cock erases every memory of you pinning over him during the last two weeks. Even if it was just for one fleeting moment, he was yours. Although in every moment after you would be his.

As if sensing your overwhelming need, Heisenberg’s nimble fingers travel to your throbbing clit. Noises of pure unadulterated pleasure fill the room. He knew how to make your body writhe in sensations so intense it made you even believe in witchcraft.

Your body was aflame, nerves screaming, and the precipice of your release was so close it was practically taunting you.

“So, fucking tight. So, fucking perfect. You were made for me.” Those words are what brought about your undoing. Tears well in your eyes at the force of your orgasm. “Heisenberg!” All you can do is scream his name as you quiver around him.

Soft cries and moans pour out of you as Heisenberg continues to fuck into you with unrelenting thrusts. Just when you think he can’t possibly go any deeper, your wetness slips him in further. You claw your hands into the covers underneath your body in an attempt to ground yourself. How did he manage to consume you so fully?

More importantly, why did you let him?

Heisenberg’s thrusts begin to falter as the grip on your neck tightens. What comforts your sudden vulnerable emotions was how desperate he felt. Maybe he needed you just as much as you needed him. Only some part of him was holding him back.

Both of his hands fly to your waist, so he can fully seat you on his cock. Heisenberg growls out your name at the same moment he comes inside your still-quivering pussy. You whimper at each impossibly hot spurt as he fills you so much you can feel some leak out and drip down your thighs.

You can practically feel Heisenberg stare at where you are joined as he lowly whispers out, “Look at what you do to me.” The statement felt deeper than it appeared; almost like he was in awe of it himself. After he pumps into you a couple more times he leans over your back. Reverent kisses are left along the juncture of your shoulder and neck.

Heisenberg felt like a warm blanket you wanted to wrap yourself in for ages. Unfortunately, the moment could only last for so long. An odd emptiness fills you when he pulls out of you and climbs off the bed. When you hear him walk out of the room, a part of you thinks he was pumping and dumping you again.

“Of course, he is.” The negative voice in your head speaks up. “Like he said. You’re his personal fuck toy are you not?” That inner taunting is thankfully proven wrong when you hear footsteps come back into the room.

Just like last time, Heisenberg surprises you by gently wiping your core that dripped from your combined releases. Sighing, you let him coax your legs to straighten out from their still kneeling position.

With little grace you fall limply to the bed, your thighs still shaking from supporting your combined weights and the intense orgasm. The metal around your wrists gently peels away and clatters to the floor again. Immediately you rub the newly exposed flesh. It was tender, but Heisenberg made sure he kept the restraints loose enough so no pain or injuries were inflicted.

Once again, “Mr. Non-committal” proved to be extremely considerate. You let yourself relax in his bed when exhaustion suddenly grips you. It had been a long time since you last had a good night’s rest. Maybe a round of sex with Heisenberg was your insomnia cure.

Now that was way more fun than reading a medical textbook until you pass out.

In your tired haze you only distantly feel covers wrap over your body while being pulled to something hard and warm. A heavy weight settles around your waist, effectively lulling you to sleep. This felt right. This felt safe.

-

Movement slightly rocking the bed wakes Heisenberg from his slumber. Rubbing his face, he is instantly put on alert by the soft whimpers next to him. Sweat beaded down your forehead as your body contorted under the covers. “It hurts… Mama please…” What the fuck was going on?

When your back bows and you cry out in pain, Heisenberg rips the covers off of you. Only right after his experimentation did he experience nightmares like these. They were far from pleasant, but he doesn’t remember having this type of violent reaction to them.

Cautiously Heisenberg rubs his hands up and down on your bare hips, trying to make you not lash out at him. He frowns when your body tries to recoil from his touch like it was hurting you.

“C’mon little healer. It’s alright.” Your strained features start to soften at the sound of his voice. Heisenberg continues to whisper to you while soothing your hot skin until you finally relax into the mattress.

As he pulls away you mumble something so quietly, he almost misses it. “I won’t leave you again Mother.” The hair on the back of Heisenberg’s neck stands up. No. It couldn’t be. He knew Mother Miranda was interested in you, but not like this.

In record time Heisenberg dresses and storms out of the room. The deeper and deeper he goes into his factory the angrier he gets. Never did he hate the bird bitch more than he did at this moment.

Heisenberg barely makes it to his welding room when he sends a pipe crashing across the room.

“Dammit!”

This wasn’t supposed to be so complicated. Your voice had been stuck in his head for the past two weeks. Not only that but your laugh and challenging comments. The way your eyes sparkled with fear when he grabbed your throat that day made him feel something he thought he wasn’t capable of; regret. You were like a little minx to him. A woman wrapped in desire, promising pleasure.

Although he was trying to not become overly involved with you, he found himself becoming protective over your well-being. The foreign feeling of guilt settles in his gut when he thinks about the shape you were in. Your skin was paler and it seemed as though you got slightly thinner since the last time he saw you.

Was this because of him? No. Heisenberg knew from experience that there was only one reason for someone to react like that in their sleep. Rather, only one person. While throwing himself into his work he let his watch over you falter.

Heisenberg had greatly underestimated your importance in not only his plans but Mother Miranda’s.

Even with this new development, he wanted to make sure you could be fully trusted before bringing you into his plan. That’s where his new side project came in. If he finished it before the end of tomorrow, he could start putting everything into motion.

Heisenberg’s interest in you started as just the opportunity for a secret weapon, but your company made him feel… good. You had the ability to make him forget about Mother Miranda and his circumstances for at least just a moment.

Not that he was letting himself accept that. Getting too attached to you would only complicate things. The metal table Heisenberg is holding starts to bend in his grip. He whispers your name in the empty room in exasperation.

Grabbing a nearby blowtorch he pulls a cigar from his coat pocket and lights it up. Heisenberg takes a slow drag before blowing the smoke out from his nose. Never was there a dull moment in his life.

-

Your eyes lazily flutter open at the smell of coffee. Pressing further into your sheets you sigh. Just a few more minutes.

Wait.

Realization makes you fly upwards. You weren’t in your bed, but Heisenberg’s. For a second you’re mad at yourself for letting the flaky man have his way with you once again. That is until you take in how refreshing you felt. Last night was the first time you didn’t have a nightmare in a long time.

“Good morning sleeping beauty.”

Your head whips to the doorway to see a fully dressed Heisenberg leaning against the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand. Damn, he made such simple things look so sexy. “Good morning. A fitting description for me might I add.” Heisenberg gives a quirk of his eyebrow that asks for elaboration. Pulling the sheets around you, you slide off the bed and walk over to him.

“Oh, you know. I’m the young woman who got lulled to sleep in her powerful captures large fortress.” You tentatively bring a hand up to his jaw and to your delight he lets you trail across the stubbled flesh. “Although I prefer the wolfish look. I was never one for dragons.” Heisenberg indulges you, even more, when he leans into your touch.

You could stand like this for hours. A dutiful housewife wasn’t something you considered yourself ever being, but for Heisenberg, you would be more than willing. Maybe if you-

“What do you dream about?” That effectively cuts off your musings. The random question, which caught you by surprise once before, does so again. Never had so many people been curious about your sleeping patterns. “Nothing exciting trust me. It’s the same type of stuff most people do.” You try to shrug it off.

Although you aren’t telling Heisenberg the truth, you’re not necessarily lying. Doing that type of morally grey run around to questions seemed to be your go-to lately.

“Hate to break it to you, doll but most people don’t break out into a sweat and thrash around in their sleep.” Heisenberg shifts so your hand falls from his face. Being sans glasses, his hypnotizing eyes implore you not to look away.

Shit. Your skin grows pale as realization slams into you like a punch. He must have stopped your dream early enough that you didn’t remember having it in the first place. “It’s really not that bad. I think I only react like that because they’re relatively new. By the time I start my day I forget all about them.”

Heisenberg’s grip on his coffee cup noticeably tightens. “You mean to tell me you don’t remember a single thing?” Anger starts to boil inside you when his eyes narrow. He doesn’t believe you.

Well, it’s not like you were being transparent. You didn’t like to share too much about personal stuff like this. Not even if it was Heisenberg. Although, you would if he shared more than just his body with you. You can’t help that scoff that comes out. As if that would ever happen.

“Last night? No, I don’t. It was actually the first night I got real sleep.” In your head, you add, “Because being around you makes me think about nothing else.” You could only dream that he felt as enamored by you.

Something flashes in Heisenberg’s eyes before he turns away. “I have a lot to take care of; so, in the meantime, you’re going to keep your pretty little ass in here.”

A frown settles on your face. “I have work to do too you know. People to take care of.” You can’t remember the last time you weren’t in the village. If someone were injured and you weren’t at home, you could usually be found with Elena or foraging around the outskirts.  What if you were needed?

“And I’m too busy to escort you home, princess.” When you continue to frown Heisenberg closes the small gap between your bodies. He loomed over you with an air of danger that the more you spent time with him, the more it intoxicated you rather than scared you. “Unless you want a repeat of what happened in the woods with a much different ending you’ll stay put.”

As much as you loved a good argument, Heisenberg made a valid point. The village could easily survive one day without you. And the thought that he worried for your well-being made you warm and fuzzy.

One of his calloused hands lightly caresses your cheek. “There are also creatures in this factory that won’t hesitate to cut into you. Trust me.”

Okay. That slightly got rid of your good feelings, but it was more of him telling you not to be stupid and get yourself hurt than threatening you.

You can’t resist leaning up on your toes to kiss his lips. So, you don’t. It was a brief kiss, but not any less passionate. If Heisenberg was warning you about something that he deemed dangerous, you trusted him. He was being nice enough to you for you to place nice. For now, at least.

“Message received my Lord.” You laugh at the face Heisenberg makes at the title. When he goes to leave, you swear you hear him say, “crazy fucking woman” under his breath. Not a false assessment. Only a woman out of her damned mind would have gotten herself in this situation in the first place. You don’t even want to imagine the look on Elena’s face if you told her the truth.

Once you’re alone you make a beeline for the bathroom. There was no way you weren’t going to take advantage of a proper indoor shower. Maybe next time you could convince Heisenberg to join you. Rubbing soap along his muscular chest sounded too good to miss out on.

After your shower, you felt more like yourself again. Everything was going relatively well. Especially considering the hell you went through the last two weeks.

With a towel secured around your body, you head to the bedroom with a mission to find proper clothing. Later you would need to scold Heisenberg about ruining your dress, corset, and panties for the second time.

Sifting through the drawers of his dresser you grab a pair of boxers and one of his green undershirts. Talk about not fixing something that isn’t broken. He sure did like to wear the same outfit. Not that you were one to judge. You tended to wear the same three dresses because they were comfortable and you didn’t have to put on pants.

Black lacey fabric catches your eye as you fix the clothes you crumpled in your search. Pulling the item from the bottom of the drawer, your face heats up. In your hand dangled the same panties Heisenberg had torn from you and pocketed when you first met him in the woods.

It seems like someone missed you more than they lead on. Shaking your head, you tuck the stolen underwear back where you found it.

Pervert.

-

By the time Heisenberg came back to his room, it was late in the evening. In his time away you scoured his fridge and pantry in search of items adequate enough to make a meal out of. Although he didn’t have much, you managed to put together one of your mother’s go-to soups. It was a comfort dish that tasted delicious and cost very little coin.

You feared it wouldn’t be to Heisenberg’s liking, but judging by the way he was already on his second bowl, you did a more than decent job. Thankfully he had the foresight to bring another chair into the room so you didn’t have to sit on the floor and eat.

“What’s your plan?” Swallowing the food in your mouth you pause to take in Heisenberg’s question. Like always, he fills in your silence. “You can’t want to slave away for those village idiots for the rest of your life? I mean, the only person you could have fun doing that for is me.”

That makes you laugh. Not only for him being so forward but accurate. You could only imagine what Heisenberg would do to take up your time.

“I haven’t put much thought into it. But you’re right. Sometimes I can’t help, but wonder what else is out there.” Not that you could just get up and leave. Mother Miranda made sure that anyone who tried to leave was swiftly captured and made into an example. Being strung up to be crow food wasn’t on your bucket list.

You offer Heisenberg a small smile. There you go, oversharing once again. That’s what happens when you shelter yourself for so many years you suppose. The only people you tell anything about yourself to are Elena and sometimes the Duke when you feel so inclined.

Something about the way Heisenberg stares into your eyes compels you to spill your guts. You hope to never find out how it feels to be on the receiving end of his intense stare when it comes to those he hated. It tells a lot about a man when he can say so much with just his eyes.

And there you go fawning all over him like a schoolgirl. Your inner self was your true enemy at this point. At that thought, you just felt crazy.

To distract from your wandering mind, you start to clean up. “You have enough guts to let your mouth say whatever it wants, but not enough to do whatever you want.” Ever the observant one he was.

Scoffing you being to wash the dishes. “Some people make the decision to sacrifice what they want for the greater good you know.”

Heisenberg plops down in the middle of his leather couch with a huff, legs spread wide apart. Even in the comfort of his own home he completely dominated the space. You wouldn’t expect anything less from him.

Surprisingly Heisenberg doesn’t give you a witty comment in response. Checkmate.

When you try to start the process of drying everything, the pot that was in your hands is quickly pulled out and harshly slammed on the counter. You turn towards the only possible culprit in confusion. “What was that for?” Heisenberg gives you a wolfish smirk, “As much as I love to watch you work away in nothing but my shirt and boxers, I’m not completely cruel. Despite what you may have heard.”

One of his gloved hands pats his thigh with gusto. “Come here, little healer. I saved the perfect seat for you.” Of course, you don’t hesitate to comply; only further proving your people-pleasing ways. At least on this occasion, you are also being pleased. Heisenberg always seemed to make sure of that.

You settle on the highest part of his large thigh comfortably, letting your legs lay over his lap. Almost out of instinct, Heisenberg wraps an arm around your waist. “I made something for you.”

A warmth spreads in your ever-growing heart. “Is that so?” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your features as something hard is pushed into your chest. Narrowing your eyes in excitement, you look at what falls into your hands.

“Consider it… a gift.” Smooth brown leather encased a thick stack of paper. Letters that were burned into the material labeled the contents as, “Machinery in Anatomy”. Intrigued, you immediately unravel the rope around the handmade book that acted as a crude bow. Perfectly, imperfect. Just like the man you sat atop.

Thumbing through random pages you notice how each one is handwritten. A large feat given that the pages were chock-full of descriptions and anecdotes. Detailed drawings are also littered throughout. Some depicted anatomy while others were blueprints of different machines and parts.

It was safe to say this was the most impressive thing anyone had ever shown you, let alone given you to keep all to yourself. The look on your face could only be compared to a kid on Christmas. “How did you do this!? I knew you were skilled, but this is…” You almost forget how to speak. “This is wonderful Heisenberg.”

Too lost in your excitement you don’t think before you throw your arms around Heisenberg’s neck; the book still tightly clutched in your hand.

Uncharacteristically, Heisenberg sounds almost sheepish, “You’d think you never got a gift before.” It’s your turn to feel slightly embarrassed. Letting him go, you keep your gaze on your gift as you fiddle with it.

“Sometimes the Duke will give me a book free of charge, but besides that, no one has made me something since I was a little girl.” Since you were busy admiring the book under close inspection, you missed the way Heisenberg’s eyes flashed with a knowing sadness. Nothing good ever lasted to those in Mother Miranda’s clutches. Despite the way her devout followers preached otherwise.

You stroke your fingers along the spine of the hand-bound journal as your heart stutters. Something is happening that you swore you would never allow yourself to do again. You were falling in love.

Now you felt even more stupid about the rude things you told him in the heat of the moment during your last argument. “About what I said two weeks ago. I can’t help but apologize. Maybe we aren’t so different after all.”

Heisenberg leans forward to brush his lips along your jaw. “No need doll. You have made up for your troublesome mouth.”

In the crash of your emotions, you ask the one question that can either make or break everything, “What are we, Heisenberg?” Said man noticeably stiffens underneath you. His mouth stills from its journey down your neck.

Shit, this was a bad idea.

You quickly try to backtrack. “Not that I expect anything from you. I personally don’t get involved like that. Unless that’s what you are looking for. Because if that’s the case-“

Before you can dig your grave deeper by rambling further, Heisenberg clamps a hand over your mouth. And for that, you were grateful. He slowly moves the hand from your mouth to your hair, combing through the strands like he was soothing a skittish animal.

Damn, you felt pathetic. Heisenberg opens his mouth only to close it and open it again. “Listen. I don’t have time or patience for a…” He is almost comically at a loss for words. “Relationship?” You finish his sentence with a teasing lift of your brow.

“Yes. But if you want to continue what we are doing now on a more frequent basis we can.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me fucking your tight cunt on every surface until you can barely stand straight and I feel less miserable. My fucked-up family of freaks has a way of souring my mood.” You could swear the look in his eye is almost fond when he says, “You’re the only person I can tolerate. So, what do you think, you and me?”

It would be a lie to say you weren’t disappointed with this outcome, but you wouldn’t complain. With this arrangement, you both would understand the other’s busy schedule, and the times you did have free time you would have spontaneous yet passionate sex. Only your most erotic romance book portrayed such things, but that’s what made it fun.

Your life before Heisenberg was rather uneventful. Even if you enjoyed healing, any happiness was crushed by the villager’s comments and dark theories about you.

Heisenberg dramatically clears his throat. Oh, right, you had yet to answer him.

Extending your hand in a business-like fashion you give him your best smile, “We are in agreement Heisenberg. Although you phrased it quite barbarically; I think we both would benefit from sex with no expectations. I accept under the condition we will only be having sex with each other of course.”

Heisenberg grabs your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, pulling you forward so your lips are only inches apart. “Didn’t you hear me, doll? No one else remotely intrigues me like you, and I’m sure I proved to you by the point that I don’t share.”

Not being able to look away from those lips that drove you to pleasurable heights, you breathe out, “Nor do I.”

When you tug Heisenberg into a kiss with the hand you had extended by his shirt, your decision is sealed. You will greedily take as much of Heisenberg as he was willing to give you. Even if it wasn’t the type of intimacy you truly craved. He let you not only in his home but in his bed. That had to be enough; for your heart’s sake, you would make it enough.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg x you #karl heisenberg imagines #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐈𝐈)

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

wordcount: 6k words

summary: Not even an apple can keep him away.

chapter warnings: smut, light angst, porn with plot, eventual romance

previous chapter | next chapter | (AO3 Link)

II: Annual Visit

Something awful thrummed throughout your body. You can only manage to slightly squint your eyes as you look around. The surroundings are not one you can quite place. Even still, a sense of familiarity settles inside you.

You’re still in bed, but it seems as though you are in a smaller, much older cabin. When you shift uncomfortably, a soothing voice comes from above you. “Good morning, my love. It will all be alright.” The sound is feminine and successful in quelling the fear that started to creep into your heart.

Looking down confusion clouds your foggy brain. Your body wasn’t yours, but a frail child’s. One that was far too pale and far too thin.

Your whole body burned with fever, your throat was sore, and your body ached. After you assess your condition, a horrible cough leaves you clutching your mouth. When you move your hand back, you’re horrified by the sight. Dark splotches of blood marred your skin.

What was going on?

Nimble fingers wrapped around a soft cloth come down to quickly clean off your hand. At the same time, another set of fingers finds its way into your hair. They lovingly stroke through the long, dark strands that were perfectly smooth; despite your bedbound state.

Although, you do take note that each hand touching you has a slight tremble to them; giving away the other person’s fear. A soft whimper escapes from you before you can hold it back.

“Hush now. I said it will be alright. I would never let something happen to you.” But something was happening to you; something far more painful than you had ever experienced. Even so, the woman’s tone made you believe her words. She wouldn’t lie to you, would she? No. Your heart told you she would never.

After a few moments dizziness takes over. Another cough rattles your body, making pain shoot through you. It was as though hot flames wrapped around you. The sensation was excruciating. You can hear the wisps of the woman’s voice, but you can’t make out the words.

Not being able to handle the assault, your eyes drift close once more.

-

Your body bolts upright in bed. Sweat dampens not only you but your sheets. Desperate puffs of air leave you as you scan everything around you, including yourself. Relief floods through you at the familiar setting.

That was the first time you had a nightmare like that. It was like you were in a flashback of a memory that you don’t remember being yours. You shiver when you think back about how the sickness that plagued you in the dream felt so real.

Each medical textbook runs through your brain, but you can’t diagnose what that was exactly. You like to think that if a sickness like that actually took hold of you, you would know how to treat it. The thought helps you relax slightly.

Everything was fine. There was no fever, no blood, no cough; just you, your books, and the thin layer of dust around you. That’s what you kept repeating to yourself at least.

Doing some of the breathing exercises you read about, you manage to pull yourself out of bed. Fresh air should help ground you.

Opening the window, you let the cool breeze wash over you. Most of the time you loathed the abrasive weather, but it felt calming on your still sweat-slicked skin. You try to clear your mind with a quick shake of your head and sigh. You had a job to do.

-

Luiza currently sat on top of the low table in front of you. She was a highly respected older woman who lived in one of the bigger homes that resided in the village. In a way, she felt like a link to your family, since your mother and she had been quite close. Seeing her sometimes made your heart fill with a sense of longing.

You step back slightly to inspect the wrap job around the palm of Luzia’s hand. The older woman had come to you with a rather deep, long slash across it. After healing wounds like this practically a million times, it took you only a couple of minutes to clean her up. Thankfully she only needed a couple of stitches and proper dressings.

Even though Luiza told you she sustained it while cooking dinner for her husband; you couldn’t help but be suspicious. A cut like that had to be from performing a blood offering. Many followers put a cup with their blood on their shrine of the Lords. The idea that anyone would do such a painful task to appease Mother Miranda made you feel sick.

“You’re all patched up! Just make sure to clean it off every night before bed and re-wrap it. Once the skin starts to close up, stop bandaging it. Fresh air is important to keep it from growing bacteria. Come back here in a week, so I can remove the stitches and check on the healing process.”

The instructions came out without even a breath in-between. Sometimes this stuff was way too repetitive.

Offering a polite smile, you meet Luiza’s eyes. “Any questions?” She merely shakes her head before sliding off the table. When she reaches into the pocket of her dress you stop her.

“No need Luiza. Consider it a simple favor.” Having a steady business was the only way to survive during such an impoverished time. Still, that deep part inside you that held soft feelings you tried to suppress had won. This woman reminded you too much of your mother.

Luiza slightly frowns before walking over to set a small pouch of lei on your work table. “Nonsense my dear. All those who are treated by your services must pay their respect.” Pay their respect? That was a way to put it. If only that pig called Anton had the same mentality.

When you go to open your mouth again a sharp look is directed toward you. Damn that motherly glare. “It would be an insult to the knowledge Mother Miranda bestowed you with.” Luzia starts to make her way to the door. “May you have a blessed day.”

As much as you liked Luiza you made sure to be extra careful around her. She was a very devout follower of Mother Miranda and that made her dangerous. You bow your head slightly as a sign of respect. “Thank you for your patronage, Luzia. May you have a blessed day as well.”

You sigh and rub your forehead as the door closes. That bitch Mother Miranda is going to haunt you for the rest of your days.

Healing the people of the village was the one thing that made you feel less shitty. If they weren’t going to help themselves, someone needed to step in. Someone who didn’t demand complete devotion and worship. You tried your best to be that person.

Slowly, you start to disinfect and collect all your tools, wraps, and medicine. The sound of the door opening again doesn’t faze you as you continue what you’re doing. Many people stopped by throughout the day. Sometimes to be personally healed by you, to purchase one of your homemade remedies, or it was just Elena wanting to chat your ear off.

Your voice is laced with a faux friendliness, “Hello. How may I help you this evening?” Bedside manner was important, even though most were plain rude to you back.

A low chuckle comes from behind you. “I’ll be damned. Didn’t know you could be friendly, little healer.” The drawl of the familiar nickname claims your full attention. Memories of that voice rasping in your ear makes a warmth spread across your body.

That abruptly comes to a halt when you realize he was here; in the village, in your cabin.

Turning around you have to stop yourself from gawking at the “customer” that stood in front of your closed door. “How did you-“

“Find you?” Heisenberg cuts you off with a wide grin on his face. He rests his hammer next to the door. For a moment you wonder if it’s heavy for him or if his powers negate the weight. “As a Lord, I know how the village functions. And part of its functions includes a hot ass girl who kisses people’s boo-boos away.”

The statement stunned you. Not only did you take slight offense at his wording, but it brought about yet another question into your life. Did the other Lords and possibly Mother Miranda know about you? How? You might not be as hidden away as you initially thought.

Heisenberg strolls around the small space, taking in every last detail. You lean against the wooden “hospital bed” for balance. Too many assumptions swirl around in your head. Was he here because you pissed someone off? Maybe he came back to finish the job he was too distracted to do in the forest.

Leather-clad fingers grab a piece of candy before popping it in his mouth. A content hum comes from Heisenberg. “You have good taste doll. Although…” He pivots so his attention is solely on you. “… I crave something much sweeter.” Your face blooms with heat. His light mood wipes away your fear of being killed. Although, a slight annoyance is left in its wake.

If he intended to get a quick fuck out of you there was no way it was going to happen. Your body still hummed with soreness from the evening before. More importantly, you were working right now. Anyone could come in.

Despite your obvious desire, you shift further away from the Lord. “If you’re looking to blow off steam, I’m not your personal whore. I’m sure there are plenty of women in the village who would be more than willing to just get the opportunity to worship at your feet.”

Heisenberg lets out a throaty laugh, “Just when I think you can’t get better you do little healer.” He takes a predatory step towards you, testing the water. Fight or flight are the two reactions most people have to any spine-tingling situation. However, your body always seems to choose to freeze.

You try to steady your breathing. “If you’re not here for something health-related then I must ask you to leave.” Your voice betrayed you when it slightly trembles. Heisenberg affected you far too much for your liking. Or maybe this was just what you needed. That war was still raging in your moral compass.

Heisenberg’s eyebrows lift as though a lightbulb just went off above his head. All you can do is watch as he takes off his shades; tucking them into his coat pocket. Striking green eyes stare at you with clear mischief in their depths. “I am years late on a checkup. You don’t seem busy. I’m sure I can squeeze myself into that tight schedule of yours.” Your mouth almost falls open. If Heisenberg had anything it was nerve.

It takes you a full minute to register what he said. The double meaning does not go unnoticed, but you try to ignore it for now. A checkup? That was something you could do. Your curiosity also couldn’t turn away the opportunity to get a glimpse of how his body functions.

You cross your arms, staring down at the bulky man. “Do you even have coin on you?”

Heisenberg swiftly produces a pouch from his pocket. The loud clink of silver makes you narrow your eyes. Of course, he does. Even though he was arrogant, he was also smart. Heisenberg throws the bag next to the one Luiza left.

That signature grin fills his face once more when you move from against the low table. “Take a seat, Heisenberg.” Your tone doesn’t take on your usual friendliness but was almost exasperated instead. Lord Heisenberg was unpredictable.

You can’t help but stare as he takes off his coat to hang it on the wall. There were still two layers hiding away Heisenberg’s body from you. Biting your lip, you can’t help but imagine what lay underneath.

Looking up you mentally curse. He caught you staring. “Do you want me to stripe doll?” Heisenberg starts to reach for the buttons of his shirt, “I would hate for anything to get in your way.”

Your cheeks were officially inflamed. Even though you saw each other’s most intimate areas; the prospect of seeing him completely naked felt wild.

“No!” The word comes out harsher than you intended. Clearing your throat, you try again. “No Heisenberg. You can keep your clothes on.” Finally listening to you, the Lord only chuckles lightly before sitting on the table.

Surprisingly enough, Heisenberg gives you little issues as you use a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff you bought off The Duke on him. The sound of his heart was odd. Although it thumped regularly, you could have sworn you heard small breaths mixed with it.

From what you were told by your grandmother all the Lords underwent some kind of experimentation to become what they are now. Even the Lycans were so-called failed experiments. The things you would do to be able to pick at Heisenberg’s brain about it.

You had to maneuver your hand under his shirt to get an accurate assessment. Heisenberg’s skin was warm and rough. Everything about the man was rugged. No wonder Lycans follow his lead. He embodied pure dominant manhood.

“Focus,” You chide yourself for practically drooling over Heisenberg. It will take you an hour to get what you need at this rate.

Calloused fingers startle you when a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face is brushed behind your ear. Heisenberg’s hands are bare; his usual leather gloves lay next to him on the table. You’re surprised when a teasing comment doesn’t follow his actions. The semi-affectionate gesture felt… nice. Being touch starved for so long will do that to someone you conclude.

The rest of Heisenberg’s “checkup” goes off without a hitch. You walk off to your supply table to jot down notes and numbers. This was your least favorite part. Actively healing people was what gave you enjoyment. Writing yourself a “patient” archive was just tedious. Necessary; but still tedious.

When you move back to Heisenberg you frown. “Really? Now?” Without a care in the world, the insufferable man is puffing away at a cigar. He even made smoking look sexy. The warmth in your body only intensifies. You were too caught up in grumbling about “stupid numbers” to register the scent of tobacco.

“What’s the diagnosis doc? Let me guess. It’s terminal, isn’t it?” Amusement covers his features. You weren’t even sure if any of the Lords could get any type of sickness. Probably not. The mental image of Heisenberg tucked into bed with a cold almost has you letting out a belly laugh.

Meeting the man’s eyes, you lean into his space. “For a start…” you pluck the cigar from his lips, “…these aren’t good for your health.” Wanting to test something you place it in between your lips. Heisenberg’s eyes turn dark as he watches you suckle the end of the cigar. You take in a deep inhale noting the hints of spice.

As you go to turn your head, a hand captures your jaw. Not allowing you to face away from him you��re forced to blow the smoke in Heisenberg’s face. The whole scene is strangely arousing as he inhales the leftover smoke and grins. “How did that taste?”

When he finally lets go of your jaw you backup to cough in your arm. “Yeah. This is the stuff that can kill your throat after only three of them.” The Duke must have sold Heisenberg these cigars. It was far from anything you’d tasted before.

“My, my doll. That was not your first time.” Heisenberg looks at you intently; slightly tilting his head in contemplation. “Seems like you’re experienced.” His comment is low as if the comment was more for him to mull over and not for you to hear.

However, you still find yourself responding. “More than you know.” The words slip out before you can even register what they insinuate. What you only meant was that you had smoked plenty of times before. Does that make you a hypocrite? Only slightly. You only smoked when you were a young girl with nothing better to do. Entertainment was slim and sometimes you wanted a thrill that wasn’t just a cliffhanger in a book.

That memory sparks something in your brain. Despite how frustrating he was, Heisenberg made you feel girlish again. Trying to sustain yourself and help others had sucked some of the life out of you. Whatever was going on between the two of you, you craved it all. The thrill he gave you was better than any drug.

Damn. He really was going to be the death of you.

Before you can elaborate on what you said, your body is suddenly spun around. A high-pitched squeal leaves you as your ass is dropped down on the wooden table. Heisenberg had switched positions with you. His chest heaves slightly as his desire-filled gaze rakes over you.

Large hands practically tear your pants open and yank them down your legs. Heisenberg lets out a low growl at your bare sex. “No panties huh? You really are corrupt, doll.”

In your defense, it was only because today was laundry day and you didn’t have a clean pair. A part of you is thanking the universe for that coincidence.

Without any hesitation, a single finger pushes inside you. Heisenberg thrust into you with slow, long thrusts. Wet noises fill the small room as you coat Heisenberg’s hand in your arousal. His ministrations were soothing the leftover ache from his rough treatment the evening before.

“I bet everyone believes that you’re innocent. If only they knew how easily you spread your legs for me.” Your cheeks blush in embarrassment. The man had a strong effect on you. Everything about Heisenberg called to you; his scent, voice, body, crude humor, and most of all his touch.

Another finger penetrates you. Heisenberg curls his fingers to stroke your g-spot over and over again. Sharp teeth playfully nip at your ear. “You love when I fuck your tight little body though don’t you?” You give a pleading whimper in response. Dipping his head Heisenberg uses his other hand to pull down the neckline of your blouse.

You moan when rough lips brush against the bruised spot of your neck that reminded you of the mind-blowing sex you shared. Heisenberg begins to lick at the sensitive skin. It felt painful yet soothing at the same time.

When he picks up the speed of his harsh fingers you quiver around him. “Do you want to cum?” You whimper out a stringed combination of “yes”, “please”, and “don’t stop”.

Not disappointing, Heisenberg’s thumb comes down on your clit. It doesn’t take long after that for you to find your release. His thick fingers pull out suddenly and you groan. Was it going to be over just like that? Your question is answered before the pleasure of your orgasm even leaves your body.

A chaste kiss is placed on your lips. “I still crave something sweet.”

Heisenberg drops to his knees in front of the table. You try to slam your thighs shut, but much stronger hands keep them open. Your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders as he trails open mouth kisses on your inner thigh.

“I’ve never… No one has…” You have a hard time putting the sentence together. Squeezing hard into your soft flesh, Heisenberg effectively stops you. Hot breath fans across your pussy. The sensation alone makes you clench.

“Let daddy Heisenberg take care of you sweetheart.” Without as much as another word, he delves into you. His mouth latches onto your entrance; lapping at any and every part of you. Unhinged noises escape as you arch your back. Heisenberg groans when you press yourself tighter against his lips.

That big mouth of yours had found a way to get Heisenberg between your legs.

Again.

With the amount of pleasure you were feeling, you weren’t complaining.

You cry out Heisenberg’s name when his tongue starts to swirl around clit. At the same time, one of his fingers slips into you once more. This man had to be a sex God. He could command you to confess your undying devotion to him right now and you would. If you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his mouth on you, the thought would have been terrifying.

When you reach down to fist his hair, your fingers are met with fabric. You huff at the fact that his hat was obstructing your view. In your haze of pleasure, you don’t think twice before grabbing the old thing and putting it on your own head.

Heisenberg chuckles which not only makes you blush but sends a delightful vibration throughout your core. Intense eyes meet yours as he continues to fuck and taste you like it was your last day on earth. A silent command is sent your way. One that causes you not to look away.

His mouth sucks in your needy bud entirely. You almost throw your head back, but use all your strength to keep your neck in place. Your hands move to grasp his grey locks. They felt surprisingly soft as you wrapped each strand around your fingers.

Almost out of nowhere, your second orgasm tears through you. The feeling of you gripping Heisenberg’s hair almost painfully to keep him in place makes him growl against you. The man is unrelenting as he greedily licks at your juices.  

Overstimulation causes you near pain. Slowly, Heisenberg pulls back from you. He is panting slightly as he continues to stare at your soaked sex. To your amusement, you realize that you must affect him as much as he does you. Your body startles when Heisenberg gives you one last long lick.

Those hypnotizing green eyes lock onto your own as he stands up. Your trembling legs slide off his shoulders like a ragdoll. If you weren’t sitting down, you would have become a puddle on the floor.

He licks his lips before running his hand through his now glistening scruff. Looking around he grabs the nearest rag to clean himself off. When you reach for it, he pushes your hand out of the way. With an odd amount of gentleness, Heisenberg wipes between your still-shaking thighs.

You’re shell-shocked when he grabs your pants from the floor. Lifting you off the table he helps you put the pants back on. You wince when the rough material rubs against your sensitive core. “See? Wasn’t that good? If we keep going like this, I’m going to have to carry you everywhere.” The words come out in a purr. It was better than good. A more fitting word for what he just did to you would be life-altering really.

Wood squeaks as Heisenberg pulls you against him. The sound makes your eyes dart to the door. Anyone could have walked in on you. Even if he just rocked your world, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. He had a knack for being careless aka something you couldn’t afford to be.

Still weak to the knees you have to lean into Heisenberg’s chest as you glare up at him. “I thought I told you no funny business here Heisenberg. You didn’t even give me a second to register what you were planning to do.”

Just like he did earlier, Heisenberg runs his fingers through your hair. “No need to be all feisty. I gave you a good time, didn’t I?” His touch may have been soft, but his eyes told a darker story. “And the show you put on for me was worth every single coin.”

That makes you frown. If you felt like a whore before, you really felt like one now.

Straightening, you manage to get your legs to work as you push yourself around Heisenberg’s larger body. “That is not the point! What if someone saw us? I would be as good as dead!”

Heisenberg lets out a snort that is void of any humor. “Funny of you to think I would let someone lay a hand on my little healer.”

His little healer? The possessiveness behind his words makes you shiver. After the sinful things you’ve done together, him just using a nickname sounded out of place.

“I have a real name you know.”

“Oh really? I thought healer was your birth name.” Heisenberg’s sarcasm doesn’t amuse you. He laughs as you scowl back.

“Well? If you don’t tell me I’ll give you one. Maybe hot piece of-” Your death glare cuts him off. If he teases you anymore you will go feral. Although, your brain does acknowledge that he might be into that.

When you tell him your name, he repeats it back. The way it rolls off his tongue makes your heart flutter. You try to convince yourself the feeling is just from his accent.

Thankfully, Heisenberg leaves you be for a moment, so he can look around. Your space may be small, but you made sure it was well-kept and organized. For the little resources you had, the items you managed to come across/make were impressive.

“You seem to be pretty good at this shit.” Heisenberg gestures over the room. “Color me impressed. What made you do this?”

The sudden change of the conversation gave you whiplash. This was the first time he asked a genuinely curious question. You had to mull over it for a second.

“I guess I feel a sense of responsibility to help the village. Of course, this is also the best way for me to earn a sustainable number of lei. My grandfather worked closely with Lord Moreau before… well, you know. That’s how I became so interested in healing people in the first place. At an early age, I was pumped full of knowledge. Some kids would have found that boring, but those are my favorite memories.”

For a minute you feel slightly embarrassed. You weren’t one to overshare, but there was something about the way he leaned closer when you talked that compelled you. Swallowing, you continue.

“Over the years I’ve tried my best to perfect my craft. The remedies I make cause skepticism though. Instead of the villagers appreciating my hard work, they created these stupid rumors that revolve around me being some type of “witch”. For people who threw their lives away for a Black God they know little about, they are terrified of the unknown.” A wry laugh leaves you as you shake your head.

“I’ve been met with plenty of resistance, but I can’t find it within me to give up on them. I can’t repeat old mistakes.”

Your body stiffens when the past comes barreling to the forefront of your mind. You could hear your mother screaming your name as an awful creature beat at the door. Fire licked up the walls of the cabin. Death was inevitable. It was just a matter of what would get to you first; the monster or the fire?

Heisenberg’s voice snaps you back to the present. “Hero complex then? Think you can swoop in and save them all? Now I would pay to see that doll.”

You would feel irritated if you didn’t acknowledge that your motive does seem ridiculous. You tend to give more than you receive. When you only shrug Heisenberg arches an eyebrow.

“If the locals give you shit, why not let them die off? Haven’t any of them heard ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’” Although the saying makes you chuckle, you feel exhausted. What just happened to your body minutes ago and moral contemplation did not mix well. He really wasn’t going to drop the subject, was he?

“My family cared about a lot of the people that live here. Besides, I found a way to work around most of the hostile interactions.”

“Hostile? Now that sounds like fun.” You should have guessed that the word hostile would grab his attention. Heisenberg had to be some kind of sadist.

You sigh. “The only thing that keeps some of the crazier followers off my back is by giving credit to that…” Remembering your surroundings you clear your throat and change what you were going to say. “…our prophet. If I didn’t, it would just prove to them that I have forsaken Mother Miranda and truly am a witch hellbent on “eating babies” or whatever other stupid thing they’ve made up. That is a death sentence in its own right. It doesn’t please me whatsoever, but you have to work the system.”

Heisenberg watches you intently. His unreadable expression was starting to unnerve you. Right then is when you decide maybe you overshared enough for not just one day, but your whole lifetime.

“Why are you asking so many questions anyway?” You notice that your own question makes his jaw clench.

“Can’t a man get to know a woman?” Even though you couldn’t get a read on him, you knew that excuse was utter bullshit.

Your eyes narrow at Heisenberg. “No. Not with something like this. Your non-cholent attitude is far from soothing.” The man had shown you hints of something comforting before, but he didn’t seem to have any awareness of social niceties.

There’s a short pause before he opens his mouth again. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, doll.” Heisenberg’s tone is low and clipped. You weren’t the only one not enjoying where this conversation was heading. “Since when did you become the expert on my life Heisenberg? I think I lost that memo.”

A sinister growl is directed toward you. “I’m listening. We’re not as different as you think.”

That was the last straw for you. You couldn’t be more different than him. Heisenberg didn’t know your suffering and you would be damned if you just stood around meekly while he kept downplaying everything.  

You can’t help but snort in disbelief. “What the fuck would you know? I struggle to survive every day and you do what exactly? Sit around in your big factory and follow your mommy’s orders?” Your anger finally got the best of you.

Unfortunately, you pulled the trigger before you could stop yourself; and you hit the bullseye. All you see is a blur of motion before Heisenberg is on you.

You’re surprised when his fingers wrap around your neck instead of your jaw. Every interaction with Heisenberg always changes in emotion with a flip of a coin. Although his grip isn’t tight, you understand the threat.

“Know when to shut your fucking mouth. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I could crush you in the blink of an eye doll.” The nickname holds zero fondness behind it. His fingers slightly flex into your throat. This was the first time you felt raw fear towards him. Any softness you saw in Heisenberg disappeared. You were silly to let yourself indulge in your feelings. Something you pushed down years ago for this exact reason.

Heisenberg squeezes your throat. “Do you understand?” Not being able to verbalize under the pressure you slowly nod your head. From now on you would take this “relationship” for what it was. Convenient sex. Everyone was out for themselves and that included Heisenberg. Why did your heart have to hurt so bad at that acceptance?

You almost stumble backward when Heisenberg lets go of you. Not sparring you a glance, his hammer flies into his hand harshly. Throwing open the door open he makes a swift exit. You’re surprised again when the wooden door doesn’t crack despite how hard Heisenberg slams it behind him.

Once again, the man left your mind reeling.

Either you were just being stubborn or he really was a jackass. You were currently leaning more towards him just being a heartless bastard. Despite your better judgment, you let him have his way with you. If anything, you were the one to blame.

This sucked.

Your shoulders are slightly slumped as you collect the two pouches of lei to lock them away in a chest that sat in your bedroom. You made a silent vow to give Heinsberg the excess coin back. The payment felt more like pity than actual compensation.  

The sight of your bedroom window still being open from this morning humiliates you even more. With your luck, someone could have overheard your… visit from Lord Heisenberg. Holding each panel, you go to close them shut until you see something on your window sill. A rather long dark feather is perched on the edge. You grab the item and examine it.

The feather was soft and well-groomed. Not many birds had patterning like this. Getting to admire nature’s beauty made your heart feel a little less heavy.

Sighing you close your window, making sure to lock it. You grab one of your many medical textbooks and slide the feather in between two pages. It was too pretty for you just to toss away.

You move to sit on the edge of your bed. Everything that happened between you and Heisenberg in such a short period of time reminded you just how complicated relationships were. Times like these made you glad that you were left by yourself.

As you go to lie down a soft knock comes from the front door. Groaning you force yourself back up. Your silly emotions could wait till later. Duty calls.

-

To say Heisenberg felt pissed would be a major understatement. In the last 24 hours all, he could think about was that woman. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were a minx created by Mother Miranda to tempt him.

Everything about you was alluring. Your smart mouth, fiery personality, beautiful face, and damn did you feel more than just satisfying. Most women he fucked were barely able to look him in the eye. You, however, challenged him whenever you could.

That striking trait also got on his nerves. You were not going to make his mission easy.

What seemed to piss him off, even more, is the unsatiated arousal pressing in his pants. He didn’t even get to see all of you. Heisenberg’s imagination went wild over what you looked like in all your natural glory. His cock twitched at just the thought.

Lycans coward away as Heisenberg stormed back to his factory. Every door he walks through flings open with a bang. Anything with even a hint of metal shakes with the force.

Your “following mommy’s orders” comment slams around in his mind. If he didn’t leave right then, he was sure something bad would have happened. You didn’t know even half of his story, but regardless of his frustration, he wanted to keep it that way.

However, there was still a small part of him that wanted to take you for himself. You were the first villager he encountered that had expressed genuine hatred for Mother Miranda. Trust was something that Heisenberg didn’t give out. It was too big of a risk to take with such little information on you.

Heisenberg’s eyes dart around the images on his wall. Mother Miranda briefly mentioned keeping watch on the village’s so-called healer.

When he found said person in the woods, you were the last thing he expected. Heisenberg wasn’t a clueless man. If Mother Miranda mentioned you at a meeting, that meant only one thing. She had a plan for you. What that plan was exactly still alluded him.

Heisenberg would get to the bottom of it. Luckily for him, investigating you had the bonus of hot sex. If he could lull your mind enough for you not to snap at him, he could get more of the information he needed. Your history had to connect to something bigger.

Was it his most foolproof plan? No. Was he going to have fun seeing what you are made of? Definitely.

If he could figure out what was so special about you, he could take Mother Miranda by surprise. Maybe you were the secret weapon he needed.

Grabbing a red marker on the table, Heisenberg writes your name in bold letters near the photos of the other Lords. Yet another loose end he had to find a way to tie up. Heisenberg steps back with a sigh.

“What made you catch that bird bitch’s attention, my little healer?”

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg x you #karl heisenberg imagines #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐈𝐈𝐈)

Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader

wordcount: 3.5k words

summary: No matter where you go, you can’t seem to catch a break.

chapter warnings: light angst, light fluff, porn with plot, eventual romance

previous chapter | next chapter | (AO3 Link)

III: Caught Up

“You look like shit.” Your gaze moves from Elena’s form retreating into the kitchen to the older man. Taking a seat across from him you huff. Blunt was Leonardo’s middle name. Instead of being offended, it made you laugh. “Aren’t you quite the charmer?” His usual mean disposition softens a fraction. “I’m only telling you the truth sweetheart.”

In all honesty, a part of you wanted the reminder of how much everything was affecting you. It made your pain feel real. Not only was it festering on the inside, but it was clear to anyone who looked at you.

Elena walks into the small dining room with a pot filled with something that smelled amazing in her hands. “Papa, please. She just looks… rugged. Some would consider that attractive.” Leonardo snorts before taking a sip of the dark liquid in his glass. Although you didn’t know what it was, judging by the way he slightly winces it would make hair grow on your chest.

After placing the pot in the middle of the table Elena playfully smacks the man on the shoulder with a rag. “I invited her over to make her feel better; not worse.” Earlier that morning a set of hefty knocks woke you from your light slumber and you were greeted by a worry-faced Elena. She practically dragged you over to eat with her and Leonardo.

Their relationship made you smile. You couldn’t be bitter at such a close bond between daughter and father. Even with that in mind, your heart clenches in the way it loved to do lately.

Leonardo wasn’t wrong though. If it wasn’t for the flush on your cheeks the villagers might have mistaken you for a Moroaica. Even The Duke seemed concerned about your well-being during your weekly visit.

Dark bags sat under your eyes due to nonexistent sleep and your skin was paler than usual. Misery was also evident in the way your mouth would sit in a frown unless you purposely schooled your features.

The universe was choosing to not only punch you in the gut but beat you to a pulp.

Ever since that first night, the same nightmare became a reoccurring dream for you. The more you had, the more you felt sick in each one. You still hadn’t figured out what plagued you, or that little girl rather, in your dreams.

Your mind would keep you up till the very late hours of the night. It was due to a mix of fear of what was to come when you slept and the many questions constantly running through your mind.

Anytime you tried to read, Heisenberg was all you could think about. You had only been around him for such a short amount of time, but there was this undeniable spark. Every time the door of your home opened a part of you hoped Heisenberg would be the one to walk in.

It never was.

A steaming bowl of stew is placed in front of you. “Eat.” Elena gives you stern look before sitting down herself. Damn women and their mothering ways. You gave in every time.

The meal goes by in comfortable silence. By now you probably spent hundreds of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with the pair. Ever since the attack that left you orphaned Leonardo kept an eye on you. They were the only semblance of family you had left.

When everyone was finished, you and Elena gather all the dishes and cleanup together. You washed while she dried. The ritual was foreign when compared to your usually unstable day-to-day life. Lately, your routine had been far from normal. This was a welcome distraction.

Both of you slipped into the domestic routine with ease until Elena wiped her hands on her skirts. As you lean against the counter you catch up with your friend. Elena was more than excited to tell you everything from the cute pig she ran into to the village gossip.

A sense of guilt gnawed at you for being so distant from her. That feeling is relieved slightly when you suddenly remember something.

“I have a gift for you.” The girl’s cheeks turn flush as she gasps your name, “No you do not!” You pull a small velvet bag from the satchel on your hip. “Ms. Elena, I’m hurt. I didn’t know you took me for a liar.” Teasingly pouting your lips, you hold out the gift.

Indulging you with a roll of her eyes, Elena gently takes it before seeing what’s inside. A soft gasp comes from her when she pulls the item out. Danglingly from her fingers is an authentic gold necklace that held a dainty charm with two hearts; one slightly bigger than the other.

“At first it caught my attention because its delicate design reminded me of you. On closer examination, I noticed the second heart and I thought it represented you and your father. It was practically made to be worn by you.”

Elena’s eyes were wide as she gaped at you. “How did you get this?”

Giving Elena a wink, you smile at her awestruck face. At this moment she looked just as innocent as she did so many years ago. “I have my ways.” Your “ways” was a sizeable merchant who always seemed to be selling just what you needed.

You carefully pluck the necklace from Elena’s hands and move behind her. Brushing her ponytail out of the way, you secure the piece of metal around her neck. When you move back to get its full effect your smile grows wider. It looked beautiful on Elena.

At a loss for words, she envelops you in a hug. The loving touch made tears start to brim behind your eyes. “Thank you. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.”

You tighten your arms around Elena. It had been so long since you last saw the young woman. Her companionship meant more to you than she would ever know.

After a few shed tears and girlish giggles, you bid Elena and Leonardo farewell. Elena’s mission was a success. Your heavy heart felt lighter than it did before.

In high spirits, you practically skip down the dirt path. That boost of serotonin was like a hit of the best kind of drug. Unfortunately, no high can last forever.

As you make your way through the village, sly glances and low whispers are left in your wake. No matter how much you tried to prove yourself, the rumor mill was insatiable. Most people had nothing better to entertain themselves with, clearly.

You almost scream when a cold hand meets your elbow. Spinning around you’re greeted by someone you hoped to avoid. The old hag snickers, “Don’t be frightened. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” That couldn’t be good.

“Are you ill? I can walk you to my home.” When you go to turn in that direction her grip on your elbow tightens. “No. no.” Overly large eyes roam over you. It takes all of your muscle control to not shiver,

“Do you sleep well dear?” The question catches you off guard. Of all the things she could have asked you, this was the most important? You must have looked worse than you thought. “Not as well as I would wish. My brain never stops even when I sleep.” You let out an awkward laugh.

This felt a little too personal for your liking. Elena and her father were the only villagers you talked to outside of healing. For good reason too.

The hag hums, “Unlike a forgiving rest your mind reaches for more. Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so you shall become.”

If you were anyone else you would think the woman was out of her mind, but you didn’t. There was this twinge in her pale eyes that told you more than just words could. Similar to The Duke, she was indirectly warning about something that was to come.

However, your mind couldn’t decipher what she was trying to say. “What does that mean?” An unnerving smile stretches across the hag’s face. “That’s for you to discover in due time.”

Before you can try to question her more, she turns away. “In life and death, glory to Mother Miranda.”

You watch the very old woman walk toward the church in stunned silence. The sounds of her decorated staff clattering are the only thing keeping your mind from collapsing in on itself. Instead of an answer, you’re left with a taunting riddle.

The universe and all of its inhabitants were truly against you. With no sense of guilt, you let yourself indulge in the endless sea of self-pity.

-

You walk through the woods for some much-needed time away from the village. For just a little while you wanted to pretend like your life was problem free.

Loose dirt flies around at every kick of your feet. Stupid village. Stupid people. Stupid Mother Miranda. Stupid Heisenberg. And yet the worse thing of all is your treacherous heart.

It had been two weeks since your last visit from Heisenberg. As time passes your brain became more and more meddled with confusion. You tried your best to consume yourself in healing and reading, but of course, your mind always managed to wonder. What was up with him? More importantly, what was up with you?

Elena even noticed how you would zone out with “hearts in your eyes”. It didn’t take much prying for you to confess about the new man that walked into your life.

Of course, you hadn’t told Elena that you were starting to develop feelings for Lord Heisenberg himself. Her caring gaze and soft voice did lure you to tell her half-truths, however.

To her knowledge, you started being intimate with a man in the village. When you wouldn’t divulge a name Elena teasingly asked if it was Anton. The gag noise that came from your mouth made her double over in a fit of laughter. Only in his wettest dreams would you give him a chance to merely hold you.

The last time you had any kind of relationship with a man was when you were still in your “fuck it” stage of life. You were young and used any outlet to suppress your grief. Over eager hands slid across your body, not taking the time to pay attention to the parts of you that made you moan the most. For you, it was more of a time filler rather than an actually pleasurable time.

When you finally got your act together you just thought you didn’t enjoy sex. That was until Heisenberg proved your theory completely false. Now you felt like a sex fiend.

Mother Miranda may have not turned you into one of her mindless followers, but you still felt like you were going insane. Each wisp of cold air that caressed your legs reassured you that you were indeed still a coherent being.

This was the first time you went into the woods after you first met Heisenberg. You were even wearing the same outfit; cloak and all. The only difference was that instead of your straw basket, you had a satchel slung across your body.

You don’t even notice how the sky started to turn dark as you continue to walk. Your mind works overtime to keep up with your raging thoughts and contemplations. You wanted to come to a conclusion on how you would tackle the obvious chemistry between you and Heisenberg.

There was an undeniable pull, but you figured the man was the noncommittal, fuck without feelings type. While you, on the other hand, locked yourself in your home and sniffled at a couple of chapters of “Pride and Prejudice”.

What got to you the most was the little sweet moments you had. Heisenberg did some of the most intimate things by brushing away your hair, cleaning you off, and helping you get dressed. Your mind had to jump through hoops to find something, anything that made sense.

Why did Heisenberg have to be so complicated? “How could he not?” You admonish out loud. He was a metal-wielding, all-powerful, mutation of a man for fucks sake.

You really get lost in thought when your mind relives your second encounter with the village’s old hag. The way she asked about your sleep was unnerving. It was almost like she knew what you were going through.

The hair on the back of your neck raises the same time goosebumps litter your skin. Taking in where you are, you blanch. You had wandered halfway through the dark woods like a careless child. This walk had to of been your worst idea yet.

Growls from hungry beats can be heard from all directions. Turning your head, you notice the light from the moon reflecting off of almost silver fur. “Oh shit.” You breathe out loud. Three Lycans were prowling right toward you. Each had saliva leaking from their toothy maws.

For a moment you consider running in the other direction, but you are certain it would lead you into the claws of more of their friends. When one snarls you see a hint of blood running down its chin. You’re frozen in fear.

You hadn’t encountered a Lycan since the devastating attack that left you alone, scared, and hopeless. Memories begin to assault your brain.

“Run! Get help!” Your mother and father frantically push the dresser in front of the door just as another blow makes the wood bow. Fire licks up the walls, adding to the chaos. It was just a matter of time before you were all torn to shreds by a beast or the flames.

For a second you hesitate. You couldn’t leave them, you wouldn’t. Running over, your father grabs your face in his hands. Only then do you notice how your body was shaking as sobs raked your body.

Rough lips kiss your forehead. “All of us can’t make it out undetected. You’re our last hope honey.” When you stare into your father’s eye it’s the first time you see fear and uncertainty in their depths.

All though the sight added to your terror, he was right. Your grandmother was in no fit shape to leave your home and if more than one of you left it was almost guaranteed that the Lycans would chase. Nodding your head, you reluctantly run for the back window. “I’m sorry Papa.”

When you refocus, two of the Lycans had moved within arm’s distance of you. There was no use fighting, you were outnumbered. Closing your eyes, you accept your fate. Doing so made your heart feel light; a strange tranquility taking over you.

Briefly you hoped this is what your parents felt; instead of the painful terror you always imagined. Something hard wraps around your waist. This was it. The Lycan must have grabbed you and was going to tear your throat out.

You gasp when instead of feeling sharp teeth, you feel a sudden burst of weightlessness. A swoosh of air ruffles your hair and tickles your skin. Your eyes fly open and you’re faced with the top of a tree. Shock outweighs any other emotion. Pressure around your middle encourages you to explore.

Cool metal meets your fingers. An astonished laugh leaves you. The item was instantly recognizable. Heisenberg’s hammer was wrapped around your torso, stabilizing you in the air.

Growls coming from below make you shift your attention. Even from this height, you could see a pissed-off-looking Heisenberg. You watch with batted breath as the beasts cower away from the man.

“Run off you fucking mutts. This one is mine.” The way Heisenberg growled out the words made you shiver. Unlike before, you would gladly let yourself be devoured by him.

You watch as the three Lycans scamper off from where they came. No more growls could be heard from nearby either. After a beat, you jump when you start to move. Ever so gently, you are lowered from the air.

When your feet touch the ground the support around your waist is replaced by two strong arms. “Are trying to get yourself killed?” Resting your arms on Heisenberg’s muscular biceps you look up at him, starry-eyed. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”

He scoffs, “At night, in the middle of the woods? You surprise me once again doll. I thought you were too smart to make a dumbass choice like that.” Of course, your brain only registers that he called you smart.

It was a head trip to go from not seeing the man to him coming to your rescue like a knight in shining armor. (Or in his case a knight in an overworn trench coat.)

“Why did you save me?” Your question was a genuine one. Based on your last interaction, you assumed he was done with you. Now here you were, in his arms.

“I told you I wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on you.” Heisenberg’s possessiveness confuses you as much as it hypnotizes you. Any anger you held towards Heisenberg dissipated as you just smile. He had saved you. It would have probably been more convenient if he just let you die, but he didn’t.

Still smiling up at Heisenberg you pull back an inch. “I was hoping to see you.” With the only light source being the moon above you couldn’t make out his exact expression. “Were you now?” Nodding your head, you let your hands travel down the strap across your body.

Fumbling inside your satchel you finally are able to yank out what you were looking for. You hold a familiar pair of well-loved leather gloves. Heisenberg had forgotten them on your exam table after rushing out of your home.

“You left them at my home. I’ve been keeping them on me just in case I ran into you. We seem to lean more towards the spontaneous persuasion.”

It was Heisenberg’s turn to be shocked. Releasing you, he steps back. From this angle, you could see his expression change. He was looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. And maybe in a way he was.

A rush of emotions that you have been suppressing come to the surface. For the first time in two weeks, you run your eyes over Heisenberg’s tense body. It had to be from the adrenaline, but you swore he looked even sexier than the last time you saw him.

When Heisenberg continues to just stare you raise an eyebrow. “Long time no see.” There was a slight edge to your tone. You couldn’t help, but still, feel hurt. After letting Heisenberg have his way with you, he gave you radio silence.

“I was busy.” The clipped sentence left no room for discussion. A large hand encircles your wrist and tugs. Due to the force, you fall against the man’s hard chest. Heisenberg’s shades fell low enough, so you could look into those eyes that haunted your daydreams.

That familiar spark starts to crackle when your gazes meet. After a beat, rough lips meet your own. Sweet relief washes over you at the connection. Maybe he still wanted you after all.

Teeth nip your lip, demanding entrance into your hot mouth. When you oblige Heisenberg wastes no time exploring you with his tongue. Your wet appendages circle and twist against each other in a sensual tango.

Over the past weeks, you craved him to the point of insanity. Now you would greedily take anything he would give you. Your hands bunch the fabric covering his chest, desperately trying to keep him against you. You moan at the feeling of being consumed by Heisenberg.

A sharp canine nicks your soft skin, but you could care less. “What big teeth you have.” You think to yourself with childish amusement. Heisenberg was right when the first thing he told you was that you looked straight out of a fable. It seems as though Heinsberg was the big bad wolf and you were the helpless little red riding hood. Only, you wanted this story to end with the animalistic man stealing you away for himself.

As you lean deeper into Heisenberg something hard presses into your lower stomach. The length of him twitches at the warmth and pressure of your body. His free hand trails up your bare thigh and makes contact with the wet cloth of your panties.

To your disappointment, Heisenberg growls before pulling back. When your lips leave each other with a wet pop, a string of saliva connects you even through the distance.

You watch enraptured when Heisenberg curses and takes off his hat to run a hand through those long grey locks. Your fingers twitch, wishing they were touching his hair instead. Despite everything he has told you, his body betrayed his word. You just know that he wants you as much as you want him.

Why can’t he just accept it?

One of his hands snatches your wrist that still held his gloves and you are practically dragged behind the Lord. “Wh-where are we going?” You’re taken aback by Heisenberg’s tight hold and quick strides. Unable to see his face you wonder what his intentions are.

“To my factory, little healer.”

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg x you #karl heisenberg imagines #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village #resident evil x reader #heisenberg x reader #delirious masterlist #crucible of desire masterlist

[greatlydelirious]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫)

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

▸ summary: A tale of two lovers where one is an excused witch and the other is the most powerful Lord in the village.

▸ warnings: smut, light angst, porn with plot

Don’t think I forgot about our Lord and Savior Karl Heisenberg! I have a huge, smut filled fic coming your way soon. 

Here is a teaser from the story!

It’s mid-evening by the time you make it deep into the woods. Your last “errand” of the day was to gather herbs and plant life you had run low of. Although your visits to the town merchant were frequent, similar could not be said about venturing away from the village. Distant howls were all you needed to have you stay away as long as possible. Alas, some things were too necessary in your practice for you to go even a day without. You made sure to grip your knife tightly in your hand. It was small, but it was also very sharp.

Scanning the ground, you notice a growth of what your books called, “Anethum graveolens”. It was commonly just called dill though; that first word was too much of a mouthful. The plant was one of your favorites. You often boiled the dill’s seeds to treat stomach aches. The tea it created was quite nice; it had a flavor similar to citrus with slightly earthy undertones. Even the stems of the dill could be used to treat kidney and heart diseases. Studying and collecting plants were the only thing to bring you excitement nowadays, but you were content with that.

You set your cloth lined basket on the ground and bend over to cut off pieces of the dill. To make sure the plants keep growing you only take what you need and nothing more. Lost in your task you hum aimlessly. The song was an old Romanian lullaby your grandmother would sing to you every night before bed. It seems as though you got too distracted, because the interruption of another voice almost makes you scream in surprise.

“Well look at what we have here. You look like your straight out of a fable doll.” The hair on the back of your neck stands up. That voice was unmistakable. Nothing good every came to anyway who encountered Lord Heisenberg. At least that’s what you had always been told. An elder of the village once told you to be cautious, because the Lord and his domineering sister captured, “pretty little things like you.” That warning feels too real when your knife is pulled from your hand by an invisible force and thrown in the basket beside you.

Despite your nerves you straighten up and turn towards the man. “Were you never taught that it’s not polite to stare OR sneak up on women in the woods for that matter.” You had the same tone you saved for scolding the children of the village. A surprised laugh leaves Lord Heisenberg. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t a sight to behold. He lifted a leather clad finger to wipe a stray tear that fell from under his dark shades. Defined lines and veins that protruded from his skin trailed underneath his many layers. Heisenberg’s hammer was slung on top of his shoulders, the metal items around his neck shaking slightly. You couldn’t help but tighten your thighs together.

Heisenberg pulls himself together after a full minute. “Spunk and a nice ass? What a pleasant surprise. Do you always collect flowers like that?” This is the one time you wished you worn that damned skirt. Your face heats with a mix of arousal and anger. “I’ll have you know that I’m not just collecting flowers. I’m an experienced healer who is foraging. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

When he laughs again you catch a glint of canines that were much larger than the average man. In that moment you’re reminded of have dangerous he is. “You’ve got fight. Not many people have the balls to talk back. Well, and live afterwards that is.” Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut? When Lord Heisenberg advances you step back. Leaves crunch under your feet at each step you take. Before you know it your backed up into the tree behind you. Sharp bark bites into your back, but you don’t dare to move even an inch.

Heisenberg moves his hammer off his shoulders. Instead of smashing your head in, he merely tosses the giant piece of metal beside you. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you. Would have been a shame if a Lycan tore into that pretty body of yours.” In an instant he is invading your personal space. His hand comes up to easily pull the knot of string holding your cloak up. When it falls to rest on top of the leaves below your feet, Heisenberg touches the curve of your waist. The Lord smelled of heavy tobacco and metal. It should have turned you off, but the manly scent only added to your attraction. Logic screamed at you to get away, but your body craved more.

He seems to mistake your reaction for fear. “No, ‘I’m so sorry my dear Lord Heisenberg?’ or ‘I shall pray to Mother Miranda for your forgiveness my Lord?’” Pure distain is laced in his questions. It was clear that he loathed the brain washed fools who spent their life worshipping the so-called God. You were raised to be better than that though. “If you expect me to grovel at your knees, you’d be sorely mistaken. I don’t kneel for anyone; especially not false prophets.”

At your words Heisenberg tears off his shades and throws them haphazardly near his hammer. Green eyes meet yours in a heated stare off. “Is that so?” His gaze on you is so strong it makes you squirm. You’ll definitely come back to this memory when your alone in bed. Lips descend on you to glide against your jaw. You try your best to suppress your quickening breaths. The swell of your breasts doesn’t go unnoticed however. “Oh, I like you little healer.” He only breaks away from you to asses your body.

It was no mistake the type of state you were in. Your pupils were blown wide, face flushed, thighs clenched, and chest heaving. Despite all the sanity still left in your brain, you wanted him. “Where have you been hiding? You’re clearly local. I would remember you, especially dressed like this.” Heisenberg’s voice came out deeper than it did before. Even though you were trembling you try to regain some confidence. “What are you trying to imply? If your trying to give me fashion advice…“ You make show of looking over his outfit, “I don’t think you have the credentials to do so.”

Heisenberg puts a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Not a fan? I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you see what’s underneath.” You have to suppress the gasp when you trail down to where he motioned. A large bulge was straining against the front of his pants. Any snarky remarks that appear in your head melt out of your mind. “Cat got your tongue doll?” More like a wolf got your tongue. At this point a Lycan would be more merciful than him. The look in your eyes must have said enough, because he grins wide and proud.

You watch as Heisenberg uses his teeth to slide off one of his gloves. Just that image alone causes a new wave of wetness to travel through you. You felt almost embarrassed. When was the last time you even had sex? You were propositioned many times, but you prided yourself in having standards. The rugged and primal nature of Lord Heisenberg was stirring something deep inside you that you thought didn’t even exist anymore.

Calloused fingers trail up your thigh. Without having to be asked you spread your legs for him. Heisenberg slides across your clothed slit. Even with little to no contact you were already soaked. Something that can only be compared to a growl comes from the man. “Holy shit. Today must be my lucky fucking day. I could slip into you right now.” The vulgarity of his words makes you blush. There was no way you were going to answer his question though. The shame running through you was already bad enough.

Heisenberg grabs your hand and moves it to the hem of your dress. Getting the message, you pull the fabric until your in full view for him. You had to be bright red by this point. Without another word, Heisenberg slides your panties aside before pushing a digit inside of you. A grunt comes from the Lord at how tight you wrap around him. “I guess you don’t dislike me that much, huh?” You moan in response when he starts pumping his finger. Fabric crumples tightly in your white knuckled grip.

Your lack of a filter has gotten you into many situations, but none like this. Due to years of abstaining from sex the small friction is enough to make you pant. Before you’ve fully adjusted another digit slips inside you at the same time Heisenberg’s thumb brushes against your sensitive clit. Incoherent moans are all you are able to manage. That mixed with the sounds of your wetness coating his fingers is beyond obscene.

Heisenberg buries his face in your neck as he fucks you. His fingers were much thicker than your own. They gave you a sharp burn that quickly melted into pure pleasure. Not minding your surroundings, you cry out when he hits the most sensitive spot inside you. In your haze you reach a hand down to palm his erection. You were so close it almost hurt. The second your walls tighten around Heisenberg he stops.

A curse leaves him before he pulls out of your slick sex. Before you can protest wet kisses are trailed along your neck. “If you’re going to cum it’s going to be on my cock.” You whimper when sharp teeth graze your skin. Heisenberg’s words gust out through warm breath, “Hop on.”

Link to the first chapter here!

▸ I’m having too much fun making this story, so I hope you guys will enjoy it once it’s finished! ◂

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