#i am safe and so dearly frightened in it - when it is good

[dandelionprints]

‘Dear Thomas…’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Summary: When a deal between Tommy Shelby and Oswald Mosley is made, Y/N and Tommy have to come up with a plan of their own to keep her safe whilst on her trip to Scotland. With no outside protection from the blinders allowed, what will the husband and wife do to give each other information in secret?

Warnings: mention of threats of SA/murder/violence, bad language. Reader discretion is advised, only read if you are comfortable with that kind of content.

Word Count: 4300

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this and coming up with the concept! I’m actually quite proud of myself for finally completing this, I really hope you enjoy reading it!

Dear Thomas,

How are you my love? I hope you’re well, I’m missing you dearly although I am delighted that you took Mr. Mosley up on his offer for me to come away to Scotland for a month with him and Lady Diana. It’s such a lovely treat to get to take a break from the fast pace of everyday life back home. It’s so peaceful and quiet with no one around for miles. I need to make sure I thank them at the end of the trip.

We should come here together one day. I think that it would be good for your sanity and wellbeing when things get too stressful. I know you refuse the help but I think it would do you the world of good.

Mr Mosley has been ever so kind and has offered only the best when it comes to the views, food and days out. Everything is perfect. I could see me losing myself here! Caught up in the scenic views and fresh air, how beautiful it is.

How is Arthur doing? I know it’s only been a week since I left but his troubles have been playing on my mind slightly, I just hope he has the patience to see them through.

I know he can do it, especially with the support he has from you and Ada. I do wish you could have joined me on this trip but I know that Arthur needs you more, his habits are getting far too out of hand now. He has the best brothers and sister in the world, he said so himself.

There’s a young stableboy here too, he reminds me a lot of John. Poor John. I’m sorry to bring him up but I like to think that he’s still around, showing himself through other people. I will make sure to have a drink for him tonight.

The stableboy is called George. He has a wicked sense of humour and a laugh that could kill you just from the sheer hilarity of the sound it makes.

Before you start getting worried, he’s eighteen, so way too young for me. Besides, if I’m correct in thinking this, I have a pretty incredible man waiting for me when I get home. (That’s you by the way).

I’m sorry if you find this letter is too long but I miss you and I hope you don’t mind that I’m prattling on, it’s almost like by writing you a letter I’m actually getting to talk to you as if you were sitting right next to me. You with your bottle of whiskey and newspaper, and me with my cup of tea and a book.

I had a memory of you this morning too, remember when we were young and you would deliver my parents the daily newspaper each day because you knew how much my father liked to keep up with what was going on in the world? You always were so sweet. It’s funny what you remember when you’re on your own and have time to think, isn’t it?

Part of me wishes we could go back in time, even just for a day, to chase through the streets of Birmingham barefoot and run riot without a care in the world.

I remember when we made a deal with Arthur to go skinny dipping in the river and see who could last in the freezing temperatures the longest. Just as he’d stripped right down to his underwear, the old lady who lived in the house nearby came out with her walking stick waving in the air which soon had us all scurrying away. We were all so frightened within an inch of our lives that Arthur didn’t even bother to grab the clothes he’d taken off.

As much as I’d love to carry on writing this letter, I know you’re probably busy either looking after Arthur or working so I’ll leave you to it. As for me, I’m the next person to be having their hair done for the charity ball tonight so I’d best be off.

I know it’s only been a week and I really am enjoying my time here, but the next three weeks seem so long to wait to see you. I wish it were only a matter of days.

Please say hello to Polly and Ada for me. I’d love for them to come here too one day if we ever take a trip. Okay, I’d really better start getting ready, you know how long it takes me. I’ve never been good at getting dressed up quickly.

I’ll send you another letter in a couple of days, darling. I hope to see you soon. I love you.

Yours, always, Y/N.

——

Tommy’s eyes lingered on the handwritten paper in his hands long after he’d finished reading it. A hint of sadness sitting in the pit of his stomach, his heart aching at the thought that she’d been holding the very pages that he held now only a matter of hours before.

Tommy hated making her go on a trip with the narcissistic, arrogant prick that was Sir Oswald Mosley for a whole month, though he was given no choice. He had to stay and she had to go, alone.

It was hard convincing her to go, she’d hated the fascist bastard from the moment she set eyes on him. His anti-semetic and racist views were enough to make her feel nauseous, his grimy hands landing on her hips when he insisted they danced the first time they met made her skin crawl.

Tommy had been forced to stay behind, Mosley telling him to give the excuse that he needed to be around for Arthur, which wasn’t entirely a lie, and that there were things he needed to do to help the cause back in London.

“If she doesn’t come along and you don’t stay put then I’ll make sure that all of your family are slaughtered, one by one. Just like little lambs”, Mosley had snickered, knowing that the threat would have hit a nerve.

“And why does my wife have to come along with you? Why can she not stay here with me?” Tommys mind was racing trying to think of any possible reasons before Mosley could muster up a shitty excuse.

“I fear she may become too much of a distraction for you, Mr. Shelby. I need you here in London, getting the biggest names in politics, the socialite world, maybe even Mr. Churchill while you’re at it, to join our cause. I could do it myself of course but I believe you have the right… tactics should I say, to get people on our side. Besides, it’ll be nice to get to know Mrs. Shelby better if we’re to be working alongside each other. I expect we’ll all be spending a lot of time together over the years and I have a feeling that she and Diana will hit it off extremely well. Diana is always looking for new friends.”

There was a glint in Mosley’s eyes that Tommy didn’t like, it was almost unsettling.

“So Mr. Shelby. Do you agree to this or shall I just have someone come and kill your entire family right now?” Mosley took a seat in Tommy’s desk chair, reclining his body back and placing both hands together across his chest.

Tommy thought for a moment, leaning against the wooden panelling on the wall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it almost on autopilot. He inhaled deeply letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly releasing it out into the room.

“If I can get the biggest names both in politics and the socialite world, do you agree to keep my wife safe through every endeavour we encounter on this business journey together Mr. Mosley? I’m aware that in business things can always turn sour, especially when politics are involved. I need to know that my wife will always be safe, untouched”, he looked him straight in the eye with every word said, the hue of his blue eyes deepening with the word ‘untouched’.

Of course there were other things he could ask for in return for doing the dirty work, but above all he needed her to be safe. Nothing else mattered if she wasn’t.

As if almost to tease Tommy, Mosley faked a grimace, comically stroking his chin as he pondered on the words just spoken.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s not too much to ask. Rest assured Mr. Shelby, as long as you can get me those names then your wife will be safe throughout our entire journey together”, he finally retorted, standing from the chair and making his way to where Tommy stood, their noses only inches away from one another, ”However, if you do not deliver what you have promised then I can assure you I’ll make sure that she suffers and it’ll be at my own hands. I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll take great pleasure in doing as I please before I finally sink the blade into her chest too”

Tommy felt his chest tighten with the rage that was now enveloping him, his fists began to clench at his sides and he had to take a moment to clear the red mist that was developing over his eyes.

Finally he coughed, clearing his throat, “we have a deal, Mr. Mosley”

“Ah good! Now, tell your wife that she is to be picked up tomorrow morning at eight A.M sharp. A car will arrive at your marital home and she shall be taken to Scotland where she will be greeted ever so delightfully by myself and Diana. We will ensure that she has a wonderful month with us”

A whole month. Just hearing it spoken out loud was enough to make Tommy shiver. The thought of her being practically alone without any of the blinders protection she was used to with a man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. A man who would have his way with her as and when he pleased no matter who she was married to. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

“I shall see you when I return, Mr. Shelby, and I shall telephone you every week for updates. As for your wife, she may send you letters, all of which will be checked by one of my trusted members of staff before being sent to ensure neither one of you are plotting against me, but that is all. No telephone calls, no visitors from your ‘Peaky boys’ as I’ve heard them be referred to, only letters. Do I make myself clear?”

Tommy could only nod in response. Too afraid at what he might do if he did anything else.

“Good. Oh and by the way, you have two weeks to successfully secure at least three people into our organisation. If you take any longer than that, I’m afraid I shall become angry, and who knows what I’ll do in retaliation”, Mosley gave a sly smirk in Tommy’s direction, “good day, Mr. Shelby”.

Tommy watched as the pompous prick headed for the door, his hand quivering above the gun he had hidden in his pocket. He wanted nothing more than to shoot the bastard right there and then on the spot but what good would that do him?

“FUCK!” He shouted as he heard the footsteps of Mosley growing silent in the distance.

——

She’d pleaded with him that night to not make her go, her eyes visibly glassy and an expression on her face that was enough to make his heart sink. He cupped either side of her face with his hands, gently using his thumbs to stroke her cheeks.

“It’ll make a good impression”, he insisted, “please, love. I need you to go and get all the information you can, I need to know what his real plan is. I know he’s going to try and fuck me over at some point so the sooner I know what he’s up to the better”

His hands moved from her face as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She let her head fall on his chest where they stood, soft cries making her chest wrack up and down. Tommy hated that he had to put her through this especially with Mosley's reputation of not keeping his hands to himself, but he had no choice.

“Sh sh love, it’s okay”, he soothed, stroking the back of her head, her hair so soft and the scent of jasmine drifting towards him as he bent his head down to rest on hers.

“But it’s not, Tommy! You know what Mosley’s like, he’s a pig! He’ll try and fuck me the first chance he gets whether I like it or not and you know it! I’ve seen what he does to other women, seen the way he looks at me, it’s disgusting!” She pushed back from him then, her hands falling to her side with a huff of desperation.

He knew she was right. Fuck, he hated that she was right. What he hated even more was that he couldn’t be there to stop it, to keep that creep as far away from her as possible. Back in Birmingham with the protection of the blinders would be more to his liking.

Tommy took a step towards her, closing the gap between them and brought a finger to her chin, lifting it slightly so that his striking blue eyes met hers, the tears still ever present.

“Y/N, I know this situation isn’t ideal in any fucking possible way, I know that, okay? But I really need you to go, if you don’t then he’s going to go on a killing rampage, all of my family will be dead by the end of tomorrow. Polly, Arthur, Ada, Finn… you”, he paused as he felt a lump form in his throat, trying to hold back the tears he knew were willing to flow.

This time it was her turn to bring her hands up to either side of his face, ready to brush away any tears that might fall. She sighed heavily with the weight of the situation weighing on her chest, why the fuck did she have to go on her own?

“Why can’t you come with me? Why have you got to stay here?”

“You mustn’t tell him I’ve told you this, he’ll retaliate if he knows that I have. He’ll tell you that I’m to get people onboard for our cause, which is true. Another reason I was to use for me not coming is that I need to be here for Arthur. What Mosley won’t tell you is that if you don’t go with him to Scotland, on your own, that he’ll kill the whole family. He made sure to mention that he’d do as he pleased with you too if I didn’t get him at least three major politicians or socialites onboard within two weeks, before taking a blade and killing you himself. I have to get those names, Y/N. If I don’t, I’ll lose you and I can’t let that happen.”

A single tear fell from his eyes then, a sight that was rare when it came to Tommy Shelby.

“Okay, Tom. I’ll go”, she paused briefly, the sadness in his eyes was almost too overwhelming, “I’ll go, but if he lays a single finger on me I won’t hold back, he’ll get every single scratch, kick and punch he deserves”

Tommy chuckled then. That’s my girl, he thought. His hands found themselves on top of Y/N’s as he gently removed them from his face and onto his chest.

“I don’t want you to do anything less, you do what you need to do to stay safe. I’m going to give you a pistol to hide in your undergarments, he touches you and you don’t hesitate to blow his fuckin’ brains out, alright?”

She nodded in agreement, the use of a weapon was something that she was more than accustomed to. Tommy had taught her how to fire her first shot at the age of 8. The pistol his father kept in his dresser along with a few pellets. The weight of the cool metal felt right in her hand even back then which she knew it probably shouldn’t. Maybe she was always destined for this life alongside Tommy Shelby?

“Good, there’s also the issue about contact. He said you’re not to telephone me and no visitors are allowed, only letters which will be checked by his members of staff before they’re sent. We’ve got to find a way to get messages across to each other without anyone noticing”, he took a small step back, lowering his hands down to reach into his pocket and find the carton of cigarettes inside.

He took two out, lit one and handed it to Y/N who was clearly deep in thought as she nearly didn’t notice his outstretched hand and it’s contents. She paced towards the window, cigarette now in her mouth and eyebrows furrowed. It was only when she saw the moon outside the window that it hit her.

“Wait! We’re fucking idiots, this should have been the first thought that came into our heads!” She exclaimed, sounding equally excited and frustrated at their lack of being able to remember the obvious.

“What? What should we have thought of?”, Tommy had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, knees slightly spread apart so that his elbows could rest on either one of them.

“Remember how when we were teenagers and I got sent away that summer cos mum and dad found out we’d slept together?”, she began.

Tommy let out a snicker of laughter that made him exhale sharply out of his nose, a grin appearing on his face, “yeah I remember, I don’t think either of our parents were too pleased with us”

She giggled at the memory, if only their parents had seen that it wasn’t just puppy love that brought the two together.

“Well”, she continued, “We both made the agreement to write each other letters every night when the moon came out with hidden messages inside cos we knew they’d check them, didn’t we? So, why don’t we do that this time too?!”

The grin that spread across her face was enough to make his stomach flip, he loved seeing her look so happy and excited, she was beautiful at all times to Tommy Shelby but something about that smile did things to him.

“You know, I think you may be the true brains in the Shelby family. You’re fucking brilliant”, the smile that was forming on his own face made his eyes crinkle slightly in the corners, his cheekbones showing their true definition.

Y/N made her way over to Tommy and gently straddled his lap, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Brains and the beauty you mean?” She joked, taking the cigarette from his fingers and taking a pull, her own cigarette now burnt out.

“Exactly that, Mrs. Shelby”

He took the cigarette back from her, finishing off the last of the tobacco filled contents before stubbing it out in the ashtray next to him.

“There’s one thing I want you to do differently this time though”, he said, a slightly more serious look on his face now.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I want you to start off the letter with, “Dear Thomas”, if you’re in danger. Only use Tommy if it’s just a normal letter telling me about your time there or if there’s information you think I should know about. I need to make sure you’re safe at all times. The letters you send will arrive to me quickly. Mosley’s got his own messenger boy who will make sure any letters get to the recipient within a few hours. If you’re in danger I’ll be able to create a plan and get to you as quickly as possible. Deal?”

Her face now mimicked the serious look on his as she grasped the gravity of the situation that she was about to go into all over again.

A trip to Scotland with a fascist and his mistress probably wouldn’t sound too awful to anyone with the same mindset as them, but both Y/N and Tommy knew just the kind of things that Sir Oswald Mosley was capable of. They couldn’t take the chances of underestimating him.

“Deal”, she said, nodding her head in agreement.

The air felt heavy around them as they both wrapped their arms around each other, Tommys fingers gripping that extra bit tighter to her frame, too afraid to let go.

——

He’d almost forgotten about their plan when he received the letter, the excitement of seeing words written by the love of his life overwhelming the importance of the contents of it. Snapping himself out of his mindless trance upon finishing the letter, that’s when he noticed it.

‘Dear Thomas…’

“Shit”

Panic set in as he raced his eyes across her words once more, not really taking anything in due to the lack of calm that was now engulfing him.

“Fuck, what’s she fucking hidden in here?!” He said aloud to himself, a hand frantically brushing his hair backwards.

Whiskey. He needed whiskey. That was always something that he believed helped to calm the nerves.

Grabbing the bottle from his desk he quickly poured the amber liquid into the glass next to it, spilling some onto the wooden surface as he did so.

He threw it back just as quickly as he’d poured it and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. A lit cigarette now took the place of the whiskey glass in his hand and he made sure to have a long pull on it before focusing his eyes back onto the pages again.

‘Look for the hidden words, look for the fucking hidden words’

‘Dear Thomas…’

His fingers gently swept across the pages trying to make it easier for his eyes to notice any changes in her writing.

“There!” He shouted out loud to no one but himself.

How could he have been so stupid to not notice it before? She’d done exactly what she’d said she’d do, just like she had all those years ago. The hidden words were ever so slightly slanted, only enough for the person reading it to notice if they knew what they were looking for.

Opening the drawer in his desk he pulled out an old notebook and pen and began writing down each tilted word.

‘I need your help. Mosley is losing his patience, he has said he will kill me if you don’t deliver on your part of the deal within the next three days. Please come quickly.

Yours, always, Y/N’

That fucking traitor. He knew that he should have known better than to take Mosley’s word on giving him two weeks to get the names he wanted. The bastard had only been gone for one week and was already tired of keeping up his end of the bargain.

There was no way in fucking hell he was going to let that monster touch his wife, his innocent fucking wife. He knew in his mind ever since the agreement was made that if Mosley so much as grazed her delicate skin with his sinful hands that he’d make sure to cut the weasels fingers off one by one.

He shot up from his chair and ran toward his office door not wanting to waste another second just sitting there, grabbing his coat and peaked cap along the way.

“Frances! I’m going to Scotland for a few days, tell Ada she needs to look after Arthur on her own, she can bring him here if it’s better suited”

The maid stood stuck to the spot as Tommy rushed past her, barely making eye contact on his way across the tiled flooring.

“Yes Mr. Shelby”

He wasted no time in getting into his car, fumbling with his keys as he tried to get them into the ignition. The engine started up and his foot was down on the accelerator faster than a racehorse on a track, causing the car to go speeding off down the long driveway out of Arrow House. His heart pounding with every metre of ground covered.

The phone in Tommy’s office began to ring, each chime of the bell reverberating around the room. Frances made her way through the already open door that Tommy had failed to close on his way out and over to his desk, taking the phone off the receiver and placing it to her ear.

“Arrow House”, she stated.

Had Tommy only waited a few minutes more, he might’ve been the one to answer and hear the words that would change everything.

“Hello, this is Sir Oswald Mosley. I regret to inform you that I have something unfortunate to tell you about Mr. Shelby’s wife…”

——

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the element of a hidden message within the letter! It was something that I was so excited to include in this fic and the basis of the whole story idea, it was so much fun trying to find ways to include all of the words I needed to!

Please let me know your thoughts via likes, reblogs, comments and/or asks! It really does make a writers day when a reader lets us know what they thought of our work❤️

If you’d like to join my tag list to keep up to date with my work, please click here

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy

[vikkirosko]

Thank you for allowing me to request! The awesome @vikkirosko gratefully remember my message! I appreciate you dearly and wish the best^^

Anyway now to my request!

I wanted to request Helluva/Hazbin hotel x Reader. The characters are Striker,Stolas, Blitzer, Asmodeus + fizzaroli, Stella, Mille + Moxxie,Lucifer, Alastor, Rosie, Angel Dust, Charlie, Husker, Vox, Valentino, Vaggie. I wanted to see how they would react with a PTSD!Succubus! Reader? Like she had some sort of trauma that revolves around the 'succubs' part of things. It would be a great comfort for me and I am sure plenty of others with PTSD.

Thank You So Much!🌹

This seems to be the biggest request I've written. I hope it turned out good...

Headcanons PTSD

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x succubus!Reader 🎶

You and Charlie met when you came to her hotel. At first she didn't recognize you as a succubus. You were quiet, withdrawn, and tried to stay at arm's length from everyone. Charlie quickly realized that there was something that was bothering you, but you were in no hurry to open up to her, just like the others. Charlie saw that you needed a shelter, a place where you felt safe, and she hoped that the hotel could become such a place for you

Charlie tried to take care of you with a soft smile. She understood your need for personal space and respected it. There was a wall of understatement between you, but one incident destroyed that wall. At night she woke up from your scream. Frightened, Charlie hastened to help you. As it turned out, the reason for your scream was a nightmare. When Charlie saw you, she was scared for you. You were shaking as if you had experienced the most terrible thing that could have happened. She couldn't leave you alone while you were in this state

You couldn't contain your emotions and told her about what you saw in your nightmare. For a long time in your nightmares you have seen blurred events of the past. Your partner has caused you a lot of pain, both physical and moral, justifying it by saying that you are a succubus and that you should like things much worse. The words of your already ex-partner are strongly imprinted in your memory and the cruel actions that happened to you in the past haunted you in your dreams. Charlie was genuinely sorry for you. You didn't deserve this. She wanted to help you let go of the past. She wanted to help you start living a full life again without being afraid of other people

Charlie was gentle and caring towards you. She gently hugged you when you needed it, she told you that you are a person and that you deserve love and care. She sincerely wished you happiness. It was difficult for you to return to your past life, but the care that surrounded you helped you. Next to her, your fears receded and you had hope that life might not be so bad

❌️ Vaggie x succubus!Reader 🎀

When you first showed up at the hotel, Vaggie took you with hostility because you were a succubus. She was afraid that you might ruin the hotel, but Charlie was sure that everything would be fine. Vaggie was watching you, wanting to make sure that you really wouldn't cause problems. She saw that you were quite irritable, but you didn't try to ruin the hotel, which calmed Vaggie a little, but didn't change her attitude towards you

You and Vaggie often quarreled. You were very easily irritated, flaring up like a match. Charlie tried to find out the reason for your anger, but you always avoided talking about it. More and more often Vaggie began to notice that you stopped sleeping. One night when she couldn't sleep, she went from her room to the kitchen to drink water, but found you there drinking coffee. You were too exhausted to argue and just told her that you couldn't afford to fall asleep, because then you'd see again what you tried so hard to forget

It was hard for you to keep your anxiety to yourself and you told Vaggie about what happened to you in the past. During your life, you have experienced a lot of violence that was justified by the fact that you are a succubus. You tried your best to forget this period of your life, but every time the memories came back in nightmares that tormented you every night. Vaggie felt sorry for you. When she was a human, she experienced similar violence, so she understood how hard it was for you. She decided to help you, realizing that it would be much more difficult for you to cope with it alone

Her attitude towards you has become softer. She took care of you, knowing that you needed it. You needed a person who understood you and who could help you and Vaggie was ready to become that person for you. She was angry that someone hurt you so much just because you were born a succubus. She intended to be a support and protection for you that will help you overcome the past and live in the present

🕷Angel Dust x succubus!Reader 💖

In all his time in Hell, Angel has seen succubi and incubi only a few times. He never talked to them personally, but assumed how they usually behaved, so getting to know you put him at a dead end. Unlike other succubi, you were wearing closed clothes and you showed no interest in anything. Charlie and Vaggie brought you to the hotel. They didn't say what exactly happened to you, but Angel himself was in no hurry to find out

Quite often Angel was bored, so he tried to talk to you. Sometimes it seemed to him that mentally you were not in a hotel but somewhere else. You flinched every time he spoke to you, and when he tried to touch your shoulder, you jumped back and covered yourself with your hands, as if he was going to hit you. It made him think you were in serious trouble. When he asked Charlie about it, she admitted that you had experienced violence and the memories of it haunt you to this day. When Angel found out that the reason for the violence was that you were a succubus, he got angry. He knew what it was like to experience violence of this nature and he decided to at least try to help you

He tried in a variety of ways to help you forget about what happened to you in the past and live in the present. He was showing you that you shouldn't dwell on the past. He understood that he was not the most suitable example, but he really wanted to help you, since he could not help himself

Angel understood that he would not be able to save you from injury in an instant, but he was not going to give up. He hoped that you would be able to live a full life without dwelling on your past and looking boldly into the future

📻 Alastor x succubus!Reader🎙

When Alastor declared himself to all Hell, proving his strength, not only sinners, but also hellborn began to fear him. That's why when he met you, he realized that there was something wrong with you. You didn't care at all how cruel he was to others. You were apathetic and withdrawn, you hardly slept and hardly communicated with the people around you. You stood out a lot from the other succubi he had seen during his entire stay in Hell

Niffty was your friend and she was looking out for you and she was the one who told Alastor about the reason for your behavior. You used to be much more energetic and sociable. You loved being the center of attention, and that brought you to the attention of those who hurt you. The violence that you have experienced has traumatized you greatly. You had nightmares all the time, so you tried not to sleep. When Alastor heard your story, he felt angry. You didn't deserve this fate

Alastor was friendly to you and tried to help you break out of the grip of memories. He played you old records with music and even called you to dance. He was patiently waiting for the moment when you would be mentally ready to make a move. He didn't want his actions to make your condition worse

It was difficult for you to start perceiving the world as before, but Alastor was there and helped you. He didn't ask you to forget the past, as if fatal events didn't exist at all. He was ready to help you overcome them and move on, becoming only stronger. He was sure that you were not morally broken to the end and he hoped that you would be able to become who you were before again

🃏 Husk x succubus!Reader 🥃

You and Husk met in one of the bars. When he saw you, he thought you were a ghost. Your indifferent gaze looked somewhere through it, as if you were mentally somewhere very far away from there. You drank strong alcohol and didn't pay attention to the people around you. Husk was sure that you were a succubus and therefore thought that you were behaving strangely. He's seen succubi before and the only thing you had in common with them was their looks

You rarely talked to someone, but sometimes Husk wanted to talk, so you became his listener. Sometimes you talked to him, but you never answered questions about your past. However, one day something happened that puzzled him. When you were communicating again, an unknown demon approached you and tried to flirt with you. At that moment, your face remained indifferent, but Husk saw the panic and fear in your eyes, so he hurried to drive the demon away quite rudely

Husk took you away from prying eyes and only then asked what happened to you. You honestly confessed to him that in the past you had experienced violence that was justified by the fact that you are a succubus. Since then, the memories of what happened haunt you both in dreams and in reality. You couldn't forget about it, so you tried to sink into oblivion with the help of alcohol, but every time someone tried to flirt with you, painful memories flashed before your eyes again. Husk was angry when he found out what happened to you. He wasn't going to leave you alone with your problems

Husk showed care hidden behind rudeness. He didn't let anyone offend you, didn't let you drink a lot and tried to help you live on. He wasn't going to let nightmares from the past stop you from living in the present. And while you couldn't move forward on your own, he was going to be your support and protection

💞 Valentino x succubus!Reader 🚬

Valentino treated violence rather indifferently, as long as it did not concern him or those who were dear to him. There weren't many people like that, but you were one of those people. You've known him since he was in Hell. You saw great potential in him and helped him for a long time. There was a relationship between you that was difficult to name in any concrete way. However, you were forced to go to Lust Ring to sort out some personal problems

You met again a few months later and at first he didn't even recognize you. You used to be a confident succubus, but when he saw you again, you were just a pale shadow of your past self. You've become silent, detached. He immediately realized that something happened during your separation from you that greatly influenced this. He was trying to find out from you what exactly happened to you, intending to find out who was to blame for the fact that you changed so much

You told him that in your homeland you experienced violence from one of the higher demons. Even though you were safe now, the memories of what you went through haunted you. It was mentally hard for you. For the first time in your life something so traumatic happened and the only one you could trust was Valentino. It was only with him that you felt safe

Valentino was angry when he found out what happened to you. He wanted to destroy the one who did this to you, but for now he decided to help you. He was determined and was willing to spend a variety of resources to help you overcome traumatic memories. Only then will he take up the destruction of the one who caused you so much pain

🖥 Vox x succubus!Reader📱

You and Vox have been close for a long time. You were introduced by Valentino and for a long time there was quite a close relationship between you. Sometimes you went to Lust Ring to sort out your affairs, but each time you came back, but after your last departure home Vox lost all contact with you. It was like you were missing and he couldn't find you no matter how hard he tried to do it

When you met again, he was shocked by your changes. You've become much more detached, anxious, as if you were expecting an attack at any moment. You hardly slept and tried to spend time alone. Vox tried to find out what happened to you, but you tried to avoid his questions, as if you were afraid to talk about it. However, when he found you crying after a nightmare, he forced you to tell him the truth

While you were in Lust Ring, you were subjected to serious violence. What happened traumatized you greatly and you could not find the strength even to leave your home. You were hoping that a change of scenery would help you forget about what happened to you, but you were wrong. Nightmarish memories haunted your dreams and you couldn't find peace anywhere

Vox wasn't going to let you suffer from the memories. He took care of you and tried to help you move on. You didn't know he was going to deal with whoever did this to you. He wasn't going to let this man go unpunished. He had enough power to punish the culprit of your nightmares

💀Rosie x succubus!Reader🌹

You and Rosie have known each other for a very long time. She helped you settle in when you moved out of Lust Ring and gave you a job. You enjoyed spending time together. However, during one of the extermination, you disappeared. Rosie couldn't get in touch with you and wished she had insisted that you stay with her for that time. She assumed you were dead, but she found out pretty quickly that you weren't

You used to be bright, loud, attracting attention by your mere presence, but after a long separation you seemed only a shadow of your past self. She was very concerned about your condition and in the first place took care to help you. She understood that something had happened to you and it was someone's fault, but for now she wanted to help you recover a little bit from what happened

When your condition improved a little, you told Rosie about the violence that you had to go through. During the extermination, several demons attacked you and caused a lot of pain. They decided that if this is the last day in their lives, then they can hurt you. Rosie, who heard your story, showed understanding and concern for you, intending to stay with you and help you return to normal life again

Rosie understood that it would be difficult to get rid of the moral trauma, but she was ready to be with you. However, she was not going to leave the perpetrators unpunished. She had enough connections to destroy those who hurt you, while not leaving you alone. She couldn't let the culprits stay alive

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x succubus!Reader 🐍

For a long time you were under the protection of Lucifer. Almost all the inhabitants of Hell knew how much he valued you, so no one risked even trying to harm you or even look askance in your direction. Lucifer was sure that no one would harm you until you suddenly disappeared. He tried to find you and used many of his resources for this, until he found you

You were badly injured, it was visible to the naked eye. Lucifer has taken full care of you. He was ready to spend all his time to make your condition improve at least a little, but he did not forget that he also needed to find out who was to blame for what happened to you

You couldn't tell him what happened to you, but you were able to describe those who did it to you. That was enough for Lucifer. He had enough power to find and destroy those who hurt you. Only when he was sure that the culprits of your injury were no more could he breathe a sigh of relief and fully focus on helping you

Lucifer was well aware that the moral trauma would not disappear in an instant. He understood that it would take time for you to get back to your normal life at least a little, but he was ready for it. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt you again. He was ready for the fact that you had a long road to recovery

😈 Blitzø x succubus!Reader 🐴

Initially, Verosika introduced you and Blitzø. You were her friend, but when she and Blitzø broke up, your relationship got worse, because she thought you were on his side. You saw that even though Blitzø tried not to be discouraged, he was saddened. You tried to support him. You became closer than you were before, but one day you just disappeared. You stopped answering calls and showing up at home. This made him worried

He hoped that at least Verosika knew where you were, but it turned out not to be so. He was genuinely worried about you and was looking for you. He found you unconscious in a small alley. He hurried to take you home. When you regained consciousness, he managed to wash the dirt off you and treat your wounds. When you saw him, you cried and hugged him tightly, muttering his name. You weren't in a position to tell him what happened to you, but your wounds spoke for themselves. You were abused and Blitzø couldn't let it go like that

The events you have experienced have traumatized you greatly. You were afraid to go outside, you were constantly having nightmares and nightmarish memories haunted you in reality. Blitzø was the only one you trusted and to whom you decided to tell about what happened to you. When he found out what happened to you, he decided to avenge you

Blitzø tried to help you cope with your injury. He understood that your injury would be with you for at least a few months, but he was still there. He didn't want terrible memories to torment you, so he tried his best to help you and take care of you. He couldn't let you be in this state alone

🎶 Moxxie x succubus!Reader x Millie ⚔️

Millie and Moxxie met you at work. You worked in the office opposite and you found a common language pretty quickly. You often began to spend time with them during breaks at work, as well as outside of work. You became a part of their lives and their relationships, but when you didn't show up for work, they started worrying about you. Their anxiety increased when you didn't answer their phone calls

You met again when you finally showed up at work again, but it was hard for them to believe that it was you. You didn't react much to anything, you had dark circles from lack of sleep under your eyes and you generally looked like you had risen from the grave. They were very concerned about your appearance, as well as the fact that you flinched from a light touch on your shoulder. They understood that something had happened to you and intended to find out what

After you told them what happened to you, Moxxie completely focused on taking care of you. He understood that your morale was severely damaged, which is why he wanted to help you somehow. Millie was busy looking for those who did this to you. She was furious when she found out what happened to you. Her anger was as strong as if her husband had been hurt. She intended to get rid of your abusers with extreme cruelty

Moxxie and Millie couldn't forgive those who hurt you. You were dear to them and they couldn't leave you alone with your nightmares. They were ready to spend the rest of their lives with you even if it was necessary

🦉Stolas x succubus!Reader 🎩

From the very first day of your acquaintance, Stolas was interested in you. You spent a lot of time with him, even though his wife was against your communication. You gave him advice and helped him as much as you could. You were close. There was a special bond between you. Stolas treasured you, so when you suddenly disappeared, he became very worried and started looking for you. He was afraid that something might have happened to you

When he found you in your apartment, he was shocked by your condition. You looked like you had experienced all the torments of Hell. He hurried to hug you, feeling you tremble. You didn't say anything, but he understood that you needed care and attention to get you back to normal at least a little

He spent time with you for several weeks during which he tried to help you. When you finally told him what had happened to you, his anxiety only became stronger. He couldn't let those who did this to you go unpunished, but he also doubted that what happened was an accident

Stolas stayed with you, surrounded you with love and care, but he did not stop looking for those who are guilty of what happened to you, as well as those who were behind all this. He was sure that someone high-ranking was responsible for what happened to you and he intended to find out the identity of the culprit

🦉Stella x succubus!Reader 👑

You and Stella have known each other since you were young. You hid the fact that you had known each other for many years, but when she got married, you began to come to her house often and you spent time together. Especially often you began to see each other when she found out about her husband's infidelities. However, when you suddenly stopped coming and answering her calls, she started to worry. She didn't want to believe that you decided to break off your relationship in this way

When you came to her again, you didn't seem to have changed. She tried to find out what happened to you and why you didn't contact her, but you didn't talk about it. She didn't realize what had happened to you until one day you dozed off on the couch waiting for her. When she entered the room, she saw how you were shaking in your sleep. She hurried to wake you up and only then found out that you had a nightmare

You told Stella about why you were forced not to visit her for so long. You couldn't find the strength to come to her after what happened to you. You were afraid to even leave the house. Even now, the nightmarish memories did not leave you. You hoped that Stella would help you feel calmer, because you knew that she would never hurt you

Stella calmed you down and promised not to leave you in such a difficult situation for you. Only when she was left alone with herself did her anger take over. She was furious that someone dared to do this to you. The fact that you were a succubus did not allow you to be treated like this. She intended to destroy those who did this to you. She was ready to use a variety of ways to avenge you

🐍Striker x succubus!Reader👢

You and Striker have been in a relationship for a long time, but because of his work, he often left for a long time, leaving you alone. However, when he came home after a long absence, he found you in a pretty bad condition. You became apathetic, as if mentally you were constantly mentally somewhere very far away. This made him worried. Something obviously happened to you while he was gone

Every time he tried to find out from you what happened to you, but you hardly spoke, as if you didn't always hear him. He decided to postpone his work for a while until he finds out what happened to you. His assumption that something happened to you while he was away was confirmed by the fact that you had nightmares from which you woke up screaming

When you finally told him about what happened to you, Striker regretted that he left you alone for so long. While he wasn't around, you were attacked. The violence you were subjected to led to a moral trauma from which it was far from easy to get rid of, but Striker was not going to leave you in this state alone

Striker left you for a while only to personally kill those who hurt you. Only then did he come back to you. He hoped that he could help you get back to your usual way of life, even if it takes a long time. He wasn't going to leave you alone with your nightmares

🐓Asmodeus x succubus!Reader x Fizzarolli 🎪

You've been with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli for a long time. You were with them at every event and in your free time. The three of you were happy and no one in Hell dared to reproach you for it. However, your happiness was ruined when you suddenly disappeared. They were looking for you, but when they found you, they didn't even believe that it was really you

You looked like you'd been to a place much worse than Hell. You didn't talk much about what happened to you, but they both understood that something bad had happened to you and they weren't going to let it go like that. Asmodeus intended to find out who did this to you

Fizzarolli was there for you and supported you. He understood that you needed support and he took care of you while you were in such a serious condition. You told him about what happened to you and he told Asmodeus about what happened. Fizzarolli knew that Asmodeus would not let it go so easily. He was ready to help him find and destroy the culprit of your moral trauma

They were ready to do a lot to make you the succubus they were used to again, but they understood that you would not be the same, so they were ready to accept the new you, but to help you live a full life even despite the violence that you experienced

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss x Reader #Helluva Boss headcanons #Charlie Morningstar #Vaggie #Alastor #Husk #Valentino #Vox #Rosie #Lucifer Morningstar #Blitzø #Moxxie #Millie #Stolas #Stella #Striker #Asmodeus #Fizzarolli

[moodymisty]

It’s good that in the Salamander, civilian and Night Lord (knight, princess and dragon) dynamic the Salamander wins and saves their beloved little mortal in the end. All the hugs and kisses for your big brave space marine who loves you so so much and did everything in his power to save you!!

Because, could you imagine if the worst really did happen? If your Salamander loved you, but not enough to save you? Or maybe the horrible nature of the galaxy you live in behaved as it always does, and nobody genuinely cared enough for you to even question your disappearance? I mean, wouldn’t it just be terrible if a strong and scary astartes stole you away? (twirling my hair) If nobody even protested it because what are you in the end, but one mortal?

Wouldn’t it just be terrifying to wake up late at night and see the tapetum lucidum of his eyes shining brightly at the foot of your bed? That glow which once brought comfort to you with the knowledge that one of the Salamanders, your protectors (they were supposed to be your protectors) were nearby, now having been turned on its head. (giddily kicking my feet)

It’d probably be so frightening, you know. With him being so in love with you. He’s probably never felt these kinds of feelings before, and he couldn’t possibly let that chance pass him by. The cloaks he gifts you would be so comfortable if you didn’t know who they were made from. Not dissimilar to his affection towards you, since there’s always a hint of something inhumanly monstrous lurking in the darkness of his eyes. (Scribbling bright pink love hearts around a photo of a night lord). It’s like he’s teetering at the edge of some abyss, and you’re not even sure what for. Because if he wanted to maim you he would’ve done it weeks ago, and if he wanted to kill you then he would’ve done it the first time you met. And yet that hunger in his eyes only gets stronger and stronger the more time he spends around you. And you’re afraid of what will happen when he looks into that abyss, and finally chooses to fall.

… but that’s all in the past now! Your Salamander spouse would never let any harm happen to you, especially not from another space marine. So you shouldn’t worry yourself over things that will never ever happen. ;)

Putting this ask on the fridge because you got an A fucking + in understanding the dynamic. Like I am vibrating anon you and I are on the same brain wave. I dearly hope I add some things to your musings that you enjoy. tw dubcon and manipulation probably?

This all really plays into this idea that's common in some media; You didn't think you were worth anything, no one listened no one cared not even the Salamander you were close with did, but yet that Night Lord put enough effort into stealing you away. Showing interest in you, keeping you alive, fighting other Night Lords that try and break into his private quarters to get at the little human he guards like a hound with it's kill. Sometimes he returns to you with blood on his armored fingers, splattered across his cheeks. Is it possible to feel safe, but horrifically unsafe around the same man?

Your Salamanders never made you feel this way, but they're not here, only your Night Lord that makes your heart race when he's just barely visible in the shadows of the room with emotions that conflict each other.

He's obsessive, he adores you; But is it the kind of adoration you want? Is it a passing phase, or are you two intertwined forever? Do you want to be intertwined however, when his eyes are like pitch black voids that seem to pull you in deeper each time you struggle?

...Should you struggle?

Because the way he looks at you is like you have something he wants, but you don't know what it is. Do you want to know? Is it yet another level to the emotions and actions he's now getting to experience, or is it that hunger that you see when his eyes land on you? The same hunger that you see when he's sealed in his armor and staring down at another Night Lord that's sniffing around you- like he's about to tear him apart and enjoy doing it.

You'll never have all the answers with him. There will always be things that swirl around in his head you'll never know, and there will always be this tingling on the back of your neck that tells you to run.

Thankfully it's all just a horrible nightmare, and your lovely Salamander comforts you and reassures you that would never happen. :3

#tw dubcon #playing it safe with the tws i hope that will help anyone not interested avoid it #thanks for the A+ scenario to play in my head while falling asleep anon excuse my ramblings #It's the weekend it's cold I'm cozy in bed it started RAINING and I have this to read? fucking incredible night #Misty's book club #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #The Yandere Salamander Saga

[merakiui]

oh golly i said i'd talk abt yan lilia a while back and i. did not deliver i am so sorry! i absolutely loved the witch!reader concept too; your brain is massive 😭💗 anyway here is what i think he'd kinda be like!

cw: kidnapping and babytrapping mentions

- initially he kinda ,, lurks. and waits. he honestly just wants to see how you interact with people and problems that get in your way bc he thinks that'd be interesting.

- but on the flip side, he's also a bit frivolous! he'll move things around so you "accidentally" bump into him throughout the day, and he can slowly get closer to you through this

- he's probably not very used to this kind of emotion, but he's probably at least slightly versed in matters of the heart by his age, so he's content to just wait a little and watch things fester and develop

- i can see him subtly pushing people away from you. if he really wants to make himself be seen as your savior, he'd probably start stringing rumors together about you until it becomes unbearable, and he becomes the person you most depend on.

- he's not super quick to kidnap, but it is an eventuality. he's aware of how time is different for fae and humans though, so it'll probably take him up till 6 months or so to gain your trust and let him take you to a spot he knows in the forest that he "thinks you'll like"

- i can also see him taking a bit of a different route for kidnapping too, via food and/or drinks. it's well known that you don't accept food/drinks from the fae, but you'd known lilia for a few months at this point, and he'd never do anything to harm you, right..?

- i don't think he'd ever lie to his darling tbh. even while being asked direct questions like "when will you let me go?" he'd just answer vaguely, things like "when you're ready to, of course!" while omitting that fact that he's convinced that you'll never be ready to leave. with questions like, "why won't you let me leave?" that don't require as much of a direct answer, he'll answer either like "you can leave whenever you want!" while not mentioning that the brambles outside his residence are so thick that it would be impossible for a grown human to get through without becoming severely injured, not to mention that beyond that the forests in his section of briar valley are so dense and dark that you couldn't find your way without a guide.

[with the whole fae thing,, can he even lie? he's good at avoiding topics and dancing around the point but i don't think he's ever outright lied in canon; even in jamil's r beans day vignette, he didn't technically lie about his cooking prowess]

- i don't see him getting particularly physical either; in one of the halloween cards, it was mentioned he was able to become incredibly frightening, so i think he'd probably use magic as an intimidation tactic if darling is getting a little too ,, feisty? for comfort, before turning to actual violence.

- he is a guilt tripper though, probably to the point of saying things like "if i hadn't saved you from your previous life, you wouldn't be as safe/comfortable/loved/etc as you are now" [bonus points if he gets to use multiple of those words and really slam the point in]. he'd probably find some way to emotionally babytrap darling via malleus and silver as well, with things like "well, they're already attached to you, it would wreck them if you left now..."

- he cares a lot about darling though, even if they push him away he'll still adore them and try to be kind (not kind enough to let them go tho). he dotes and will take care of you to the best of his ability

- basically, his style is a meandering process that leaves you a bit confused and thinking two things simultaneously: "how did i not see the red flags before?", and "is this really all that bad..?"

i dearly hope this is coherent! i'm on a massive amount of cold medicine rn and somehow that unlocked my writers block. i absolutely adore how you write yan lilia [and all yans in general!!]

Aaaa omg this is all so perfect!!! Lilia is definitely the type who seems tame or 'normal' compared to other twst yans, but the reality is that he can be very suffocating and overbearing when he wants to. You'll think that he isn't so bad and that this situation is manageable because he showers you with affection and (inedible) cooking and he likes to indulge in your hobbies and he'll play games with you, but you're still technically a captive. Even if it feels more like you've joined his family, you're still stuck with him.

Lilia probably introduces you to Silver, Sebek, and Malleus right away because he wants you to form bonds with the three of them. That makes it all the more easier to guilt you into staying. If you tried to leave him, they would be devastated. They consider you a friend and even family now, so you obviously have to stay to keep them happy, right?

While he wouldn't lie, he's vague about certain things and slips through loopholes with responses that still count as the truth. It can be frustrating because there really isn't an actual time to "whenever you're ready to leave," but he says it with such bright sincerity that you struggle to broach the topic again after that. He really does care for you, though, and he's given you so much affection and stability. Surely you wouldn't throw all of his precious gifts away just for a life of solitude. That simply won't do.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #yandere lilia vanrouge #h2o2-and-baking-soda #i read your tags on the reblog of the dream post and imagined lilia and malleus leaving through the window scott pilgrim style lol #it seems like the twst characters follow everyone into their dreams :D #also thank you for blessing me with lilia thoughts!!!! #it was very good and coherent #but i hope that the cold medicine will help whatever is ailing you D: get well soon!!

[trashcanalienist]

How do I explain to you that slashers feel like home and black-and-white horror feels like family and counterculture 1970s indie horror and science fiction feels like freedom and gritty 2000s gore flicks feel like the deepest familiar expression of my own futility?

#horror has been my most integral special interest for as long as i have lived individually #the blood that flows through my veins is not altogether mine #and all who share it are mine as well #and i am theirs. and we are not one but we are community. a community of bloodsoaked lightning. #honorary creeptalk #creeptalk #of a sort #positive creeptalk #in the tags #horror #slasher #slashers #slasher movies #words i speak #i am safe and so dearly frightened in it - when it is good #for it must be as i am the work of the outsider. the perspective of the outsider. the fear of vast destruction or obsolescence. #the personal terror of mortality. the deep dread or black comedy of cessation. tragic empowerment or furious Icarusian fall. #outsiders #the outsider

[ariadne-mouse]

In the damp earth in a little garden corner of Blumenthal, moisture is slowly seeping into the pages of a book, blurring the words like tears on fresh ink.

Dear Mother and Father, the road is dark, and I'm afraid. I don't know what I'm going to do, only that I have to save you, whatever it takes. I'm so sorry...

Dear Mother and Father, the road is dark, but I've met someone good. Her name is Nott. I wonder if you might be frightened to see her, but she is remarkable. She saved me...

Dear Mother and Father, Nott and I have begun travelling with a group of very odd people. I don't know what will come of it. I miss you so much it feels like it is burning me from the inside out...

Dear Mother and Father, I'm getting stronger. I've had some help. I learn more every day, and I like to imagine you might be proud of me. I still remember your faces when I left for the Academy...

Dear Mother and Father, my traveling group has become more like friends to me. They are odd - the Mighty Nein, we call ourselves, it is a little joke - but so am I. I am scared, still, but I know they can help me. Maybe I can help them, too. I am teaching Nott magic, did you know? She is a natural at it...

Dear Mother and Father, I miss you. The Mighty Nein are like family now, but they are not you. I dearly wish that you will be able to meet them some day...

Dear Mother and Father, I've met someone who is very much like me. He's intelligent, and very skilled, and I hope I can learn from him, things that will help you...

Dear Mother and Father, the more I learn about the realities of war between the Empire and the Dynasty, the more I see so clearly that there is rot in our home at the highest places, and the lives of ordinary people in both nations are being used as disposable chess pieces. I'm going to stop it. I'm going to save you both, and our home too. I'm going to give you a home that is safe to come back to...

Dear Mother and Father, I have found what I think may be the key to saving you, if only I and the others can survive what we must face...

Dear Mother and Father, we survived, and I took down my old teacher. He can never hurt anyone ever again...

Dear Mother and Father,

D ar Mothe and F t her ,

D r o h r d Fa h e

Several feet down, the rich soil is cool and compact, and the heavy memory of recent spring rains embraces the book as if it has always been there, its arcane burial having left no disturbance.

Unseen, unremarkable, this quiet totem decays, its components blending over time into the organic matter around it, just like its two neighbors in their graves. Paper and ink are gone faster than flesh and bone, but they are all there, and the earth holds them.

Dear Mother and Father,

This is my last letter. I know now... the past is not mine to touch. I hope you can forgive me. I hope, even, that you might be proud.

I love you. I love you. I love you, and I will see you again, past the veil of this life.

I hope you will wait for me.

#still in my emotions about that second book #because damn #what a stab to the heart #ariadne writes CR #cr spoilers #c2e141 #caleb widogast #tumblr snippets

[yukichouji]

OK, so, @heniareth​ asked to hear more about my first Warden for DAO and it took me a bit to put all this together, but here we are :) Thank you so much for asking and giving me a chance to ramble about him :D The post is long, hence the cut and please be warned about the thorough lack of structure and order haha I am bad at ordering my thoughts properly. I hope it is still alright to read :)

I have exactly two screenshots of my warden Theron Mahariel and those are it (apparently my obsession with taking a f*ck ton of screen shots of like everything only truly developed with DAI) xD Second one is in the temple of sacred ashes and it was taken in an attempt to make a bad joke about how the battle was so grisly that everyone got blood splatter under their armor ha

Anyway xD Theron is Dalish and he spent his entire life safely with his clan until his best friend Tamlen and he stumbled across some ancient elven ruins in the forest and made a discovery followed by tragedy. Duncan was able to save Theron’s life, but not Tamlen and by the time they returned to the ruins to search for him, Tamlen’s body had disappeared. Not only that, the sickness that had befallen Theron was one that had only been delayed with Duncan’s help and had but one cure, the Joining. And so, to survive, Theron was forced to leave his clan, the only life he’d ever known, his home, his family, to follow Duncan to Ostagar where he would become a Gray Warden.

He’d been a hunter for his clan for a while before all that happened and therefor knew his way around a bow quite well, though he’d never fought anything more frightening than a bear in the wilds. His clan has tried its best to stay away from Shemlens and avoid confrontation, so Duncan was one of the first humans Theron had ever really gotten to talk to. He was suspicious at first, but his keeper trusted Duncan and seemed to hold the Gray Wardens in high regard, so he decided to heed her judgment. Leaving his clan behind, unsure if he would ever see them again since they’d already decided to move North as soon as possible in order to keep safe, was one of the hardest things he’d had to do up until that point in his life.

He was raised by Ashalle, an old friend of his father’s. Both of his parents died around the time of his birth, so he never got to meet either of them and he was never really told about the circumstances of their death. All he knew was that his father had been the former keeper of his clan and his mother a hunter form a different clan. His father had fallen in love with his mother and they’d had to meet in secret because the elders did not approve of their bond. It wasn’t until the day he was to leave his clan for good that Ashalle finally told him the truth about what happened.  Apparently, when his mother was pregnant with him, during one of those secret meetings of theirs, their parents were attacked by a group of humans and city elves. During the resulting fight his father was killed and his mother gravely wounded. She stayed alive just long enough to give birth to him, then passed away. Quite the story to stomach, especially when he was about to put his life into the hands of a human, stepping out into a world that had been nothing but hostile towards his people for as long has their memory lasts. A world he knew very little about, other than the stories the elders told of the dangers and cruelties lurking everywhere within. And through all of that, his failure to protect Tamlen weighed heavily on him, a burden he’d carry with him wherever he set foot.

He was mid twenties, when all of this happened and at that point, the elders and Ashalle had been urging him to find an elven lass to bond with and start his own family for a while. And he’d been doing his best to dodge them for just about as long. He’d never met a woman he’d been interested in and perhaps, if he was to be very honest with himself, his feelings towards Tamlen might have run a little deeper than he’d have liked to admit to anyone, let alone himself. The Dalish don’t frown upon same sex relationships per se, but since the elves are such a diminished race it is regarded as extremely important that anyone who can start a family and produce children to keep their blood alive do so as a duty to their people. Anyone who refuses to or, gods forbid, settles with a partner of a different race is all but branded a traitor to their kind and shunned by their clan, sent into exile to fend for themselves. So in a way, by leaving when he did, he dodged a bullet or a very tough decision he was eventually going to have to make for himself that had been headed his way for a while now. Though one wonders if the fate he found can be considered any better.

He loved his clan and the life he led with them dearly. To him, there was nothing better than that simple life of wandering from place to place and the inherent freedom of it, the deep green of the forests around them, the moonlight glint of the hallas’ coats, the aravels’ colorful sails, the stories of his ancestors told around campfires as the young and old listen with equal wonder, the thrill of the hunt as thin soles tread soundlessly over soft, moss-covered forest floors, Andruil’s invisible hand guiding him onward, and the rush of satisfaction at having been successful. At having been able to provide for his clan, keeping them fed and healthy and safe from danger of any kind. That was where he felt most at home. It was not an easily life, but one worth living.

He can’t read. Never learned, because it never seemed important. All of the lore about his people is kept as oral history not written down.

He really wanted to be able to take Zevran to meet his clan, once all of the horrors of the Blight were over. He knew they wouldn’t be able to stay if they wanted to be together, but he at least wanted to visit and show Zevran how he grew up and who the people were that meant so much to him. Finding a place among the rebuilding Wardens after that didn’t seem like such a bad thing, then. Sadly, none of that ever came to pass. He died defeating the Archdemon and ending the Blight. And instead of receiving a burial the way his people would have intended, in the green forest he’d loved so much with a seed planted over him, a tree growing to mark his grave for his people, his body now lies in a cold stone crypt together with his Warden brothers and sisters, who share the honor of having given their lives to end a Blight.

#me things #yukichouji plays games #@heniareth yours was a lot prettier and easier to read xD #But I still had a lot of fun with this so thank you for that :) #my ocs #Theron Mahariel #dao

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

  I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

 I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

#dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x y/n smut #bruce wayne smut #batman smut

[rome5683]

A 'Sociopath's Touch

Chapter Ten : Dearly Departed

Words: 6193

Summary: It's the storm after the fluff. You and Kai go to help Damon get his mom back, and everything goes wrong. Again.

Kai’s hands moved the hangers quickly down the rack, cursing when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Am I even in the right section- I mean, what is this?”

“This is Walmart. You get what you buy.” Damon scowled as he leaned against a wooden platform that had folded clothes against it, furring his brow at Kai.

“And it’s not exactly snowing here, either.” Jacob said from the other side of the rack, “So yeah, their selections for parkas aren’t exactly bussin’.”

Damon stood, looking at Jacob with annoyance, “What did you just say?”

“Uh…” Jacob hesitated, face filled with both anger and fear. The man who killed him was asking rudely what he just said.

“Bussin’.” Kai smirked at Jacob’s relieved expression, relief to be free from any type of confrontation, and looked to Damon with a raised brow. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t get with the times?”

Damon scoffed, “Do you even know how to use anything that plugs in?”

Kai smiled sarcastically, “Do you even know how to speak to anyone younger than you?”

Damon was about to speak when Jacob interceded with a laugh, “Does he even know anyone older than him?”

Damon raised a brow towards your brother, “I will kill you, again.”

Kai smirked and chanted under his breath, causing Damon to groan and clutch his forehead before the spell went away. He glared at Kai, who smirked wider. “Do that, and I will kill you. Capisce?”

Damon frowned, walking away to look for his own parka.

-

You were indecisive at the moment- the black one looked more chic, but the white one looked so classy. You looked at Elena, who sat nearby with a bored expression. You held them both up to her, “Which one do you think I should get?”

She sighed, “I don’t know, (Y/N). Can you just hurry up?”

“God…” You rolled your eyes, deciding to go with the white parka instead of the black one. It was easier to get dirty, sure, but hell of a lot cuter. Especially with those dark jeans you would wear… and those white snow boots you spotted in the other section. You hung the black parka where it belonged, grumbling with annoyance, “You’re such a killjoy.”

“It’s not like you’re a breeze to get along with- and I don’t usually get along with people who try to threaten me, so-“

You looked at her with a raised brow as you folded the white parka over your arm, “I did what I had to do, okay? I needed a break- my family needed a break.”

She raised a brow back, crossing her arms, “So Kai’s your family now?”

You let out a soft exhale, not even thinking twice about that fact. You and Kai… you had more than just a connection. More than attraction- you had a bond. A deep and real bond. You shrugged, a hint of a smile on your lips, “Pretty much.”

Elena softened slightly, “Look, I get what you mean. At first, when I was still human- I took a break from all this for a bit.”

You nodded, remembering when she told you about the first break she had with Stefan.

“And we need it sometimes, we really do. And… I understand that you threatened me for a good reason.” She furrowed her brows in confusion, a smile on her face.

You laughed at that, causing Elena to chuckle as well. “I’m… a little sorry about that.”

Elena smiled widely, “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s all fine.”

You smiled back, until a sudden wave of nausea overcame you. You felt confused, swallowing the lump in your dry throat all of a sudden, and shoved the white parka in Elena’s hands. You ran towards the nearest restroom, running to the nearest stall. You couldn’t help it as vomit came out, and the taste of it made your face cringe.

Elena followed you, holding your back and patting your back soothingly, and looking on in confusion. “What’s happening to you?”

You flushed the toilet, gasping as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. You shook your head, standing and going to the sink to wash your hand and rinse out your mouth.

Elena gently grasped your shoulder when you were done, “Are you okay?”

You exhaled shakily, “Is it possible for vampires to get food poisoning?”

Elena spoke soft and low, “I’ve been a vampire for about two and half years now, and I’ve never-“

“It isn’t possible.” You murmured at first, then looked at Elena as you grasped her shoulders. “Tell me this isn’t possible.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes saying everything she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud. Then, she nodded with a sudden determination in her eyes. “Only one way to find out.”

You shrieked, throwing the fifth pregnancy test against the bathroom wall with frustration. A woman walked out of the nearby stall, barely glancing at you two with a frightened expression as she washed her hands and scurried out of the store’s restroom.

Elena grasped her forehead, stressing herself out, “There’s no way.”

“Obviously, there is!” You exasperated, grabbing the first four you took and showing them to her in a dramatic way. “They’re all positive, aren’t they?!”

“I mean, this is literally impossible.” She scoffed in disbelief, taking one of them and shaking her head at the positive results.

You scoffed with frustration, “We live in a world where witches, vampires, doppelgängers, wolves, and even hybrids between all those things exist. This is definitely up there on the list as possible…”

“Not to mention the other type of creatures you’ve left out…” She looked away, before looking back at you with a slightly confused expression.

You raised a brow, “What is it?”

“I mean… how much sex have you and Kai been having?” Elena let out a nervous laugh.

Your lips widened with a grin, and you looked away as you tried to wipe it off your face. You shook your head as your cheeks reddened, failing to come up with a good answer, or even estimate.

“I’m guessing it was a lot.” Elena smirked at your pink-tinted cheeks, “Anyhow, you cannot come with us today.”

You frowned, “The hell I can’t.”

“What happens if something goes wrong?” Elena stressed her words, raising her voice, “What happens if Kai and Bonnie fight, and you get hurt in the process? You can’t take that risk- you can’t leave Jacob alone-“

“Don’t you think I know that?!” You snapped, and slightly faltered at Elena’s hurt expression. You clasped your hands together in front of your face, sighing and trying to keep your composure. You looked back up at her as you spoke, “As much as Jacob matters to me, and as much as I am determined to make it back to him… I cannot risk Damon, or Bonnie, or even you leaving Kai there. I can’t let him be abandoned again. Not after everything we’ve built together...” You winced slightly, “Not after everything he’s been through.”

Elena sighed, coming closer and embracing you. You hugged her back, sighing with relief. Hopefully she would understand…

You pulled away, looking at Elena with slightly teary eyes, “Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t tell him.”

She faltered slightly, “What do you mean?”

“If everything goes right today, I want to be the one to tell him.” You half-smiled, before going back to your serious expression. “But if it doesn’t, and something happens to me… I don’t want that extra weight on his mind.”

“But-“ Her voice slightly broke, but you shook your head.

“Elena.” You spoke sharply, making her stay silent with widened eyes. “You can never tell anyone. Please…” You pleaded with her, “Please do this for me.”

She swallowed, and nodded as she squeezed your hands reassuringly, and walked out of the restroom. You let out a shaky sigh, your hand subconsciously drifting to your abdomen… you couldn’t believe it. A part of you was elated, glad that this was even possible and that you two could practically have a future together. Another part of you was frightened to death. You were still in college, you still had a lot of plans and none of them had ever involved this… but here you were. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. And as much as you weren’t exactly prepared for a kid to be in your life, you knew Kai would be there a hundred percent of the way for your guys’ child, and you knew that no matter what, you wanted this.

You looked to the mirror, straightening your posture before inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly, and walking out of the store’s restroom.

Your eyes widened to see Elena at her lover’s side, looking at him with a pleading look. Damon looked over with a raised brow, and you felt cold at that knowing look in his eye.

Elena scowled, softly hitting his abdomen. “Promise me, Damon.”

“Fine.” He scoffed, his eyes glancing to your belly before looking at your uneasy expression with a slight smirk. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You nodded with relief, about to thank him before you were interrupted.

“Who’s secret is safe with who?” Kai popped up from behind Damon and Elena, a grin on his face. Jacob followed, wearing an amused expression.

“It’s a secret.” Damon winked at Kai, causing Elena to groan.

Jacob scoffed, “Can I at least know?”

Elena chuckled, “It’s not a secret if everyone knows.

Kai walked over to you with a slight pout, his hand drifting your waist absentmindedly. “Why are you keeping secrets from me?”

You laughed as he pecked your cheek, “It’s more of a surprise, really. I’ll tell you later.”

He grinned again, his eyes smiling as his blue eyes sparkled with delight. “Promise?”

You smirked up at him, “I promise.”

-

You could hear Damon scoff from the living room as you took your time getting ready in the restroom. He shouted, “Uh? Tick tock, woman! How long does it take to change?”

Elena shushed him, and Kai spoke up next. “I mean, she doesn’t take that long-“

You exited the restroom, your black skinny jeans, white boots, and white parka complimenting each other as you let your hair down. You also put on a little bit of makeup, because why not? You gave Damon a raised brow and gestured to your appearance, “You think all this magic just happens?”

Kai grinned, his winter outfit, slightly messy hair, and beard making him look scrumptious, “Looks like magic to me.”

Damon and Jacob groaned simultaneously, while Elena grinned. You blushed, smiling widely and walking into Kai’s arms as he hugged you close to him and he pecked your forehead. You looked at Jacob and sighed, “I’ll be back, okay?”

Jacob nodded, getting up and giving you a hug. “Be safe.”

“I will.” He squeezed you close, and patted your shoulder as he sat onto your guys’ couch. Damon rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Let’s get this prison world train going.” The old vampire went to open the door, letting Elena pass before he went. Kai caught the door before it closed, holding it open for you as well. You waved goodbye to Jacob through the door, and followed Damon and Elena to Damon’s car.

Elena held open the passenger seat, and you climbed in happily with Kai in tow. He grunted as he sat next to you, shifting into a comfortable position with his arm around you. You leaned into him, enjoying the feel of him against you as you closed your eyes. You woke up pretty early to go to the store for all your clothes, and Kai stayed up late to get the ascendant for the 1903 prison world which of course you waited up for him, so you were a little tired- especially considering the fact you and Kai had a little romp in the shower this morning. Again- you barely had any sleep.

You slipped into a light sleep, feeling yourself sigh as you finally slipped into the pleasing darkness that was sleep. Kai shifted a little, and you moaned with slight annoyance before getting comfortable again.

Damon grunted as he started pulling out of the parking lot, “If I hear kissing, groaning, or any other moan- I will kill you both.”

“Damon,” Elena scolded.

Kai smirked, looking down at your sleeping form. Just looking at you was enough to make him melt inside. He ran his hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear as you sighed happily in your sleep.

“What?” Damon exasperated, clearly annoyed with your guys’ affection.

Elena shook her head with a laugh, amused at the way Damon was so bothered.

-

“Where are they…” Bonnie grumbled to herself, nervous as hell. Nervous, because she has been planning to kill Kai. And she was a little scared, but of course- who would admit that? Not only that- but she knew Jo could die… but a part of her didn’t care. She wanted Kai gone- or at least abandoned in the prison world like he had abandoned her. Stabbed, and left to die on her own.

As soon as the door opened, she stood. Her nerves were on end, watching them come through the door one by one. Finally, Kai and (Y/N) came through the door.

You barely glanced at Bonnie, clutching Kai’s hand with an intense hold which only made him squeeze back in reassurance. Elena went upstairs for a second, and you wondered briefly why. You weren’t scared of Bonnie, but still were tense around her.

Damon sighed, standing next to Bonnie. “Let’s get this show on the road. Kai, ascendant?”

Kai reluctantly let go of your hand, and went to take the ascendant out of his pocket. He approached Bonnie, conflicted whether to try to be nice or hold the grudge of hurting you again. However conflicted he was, he wasn’t exactly good with poker faces. His face was obviously annoyed and perplexed as he stood there with the ascendant in hand.

Bonnie pulled out a knife, cutting her hand and letting the blood trickle onto the ascendant. Kai huffed, “Damn. Crocodile Dundee called, he wants his knife back.”

You smirked to yourself, you’ve always loved Kai’s snarky comments.

“You know, he’s no longer a thing, and neither is that joke.” Bonnie quipped back, sheathing her hunting knife.

Kai raised a brow and let out a slight hiss, “Ouch.”

Elena huffed, coming back with a parka of her own and standing next to Bonnie. “Is this acceptable attire by 1903 standards?”

You shrugged, about to speak up when Damon interrupted, “Whoa, who said you’re coming?”

“To meet the woman who gave birth to the two epic loves of my life? Me.”

You grinned, “Plus I’m going, so it isn’t fair not to let Elena, out of all people, go.”

Damon scoffed, looking at Kai and Bonnie. “Isn’t there a limit?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, “Right, which is why there’s two of us. So shall we?”

“Fine. Let’s go get Mom.” Damon huffed, and Elena grasped Bonnie’s shoulder while holding Damon’s. In turn, you grasped Kai’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly when he glanced at you with a somewhat worried expression.

“Sangiema meam et nos mundo carcerema.” Kai chanted, and you couldn’t help but look at him in awe with the way he spoke. He really was a powerful witch. “Sangiema meam et nos mundo carcerema.”

A bright light flashed, changing your surroundings while you were blinded- and before you knew it, you could feel the snow falling onto your hair and cheeks. You let out an amazed laugh, looking around to see you were in a snowy Mystic Falls, but in the woods. This was really amazing, and for a second- you forgot how gruesome real life magic was- and remembered how magical and awe-inspiring it was. Kai grinned at your reaction as you looked up at the snow falling.

“Well, isn’t this a picturesque slice of hell?” Damon spoke, and Bonnie let out a small sigh.

“You guys go ahead. Kai and I will start the locator spell on the ascendant.”

Elena frowned in confusion, “But Kai just has the ascendant. Why do we have to find another one?”

Kai shrugged, “The ascendant can’t travel between worlds, which means we gotta find its mirror image here in 1903.”

“Page 10 on the world-jumping rule-book. Shall we?” Damon went to walk away, not even looking back as Elena stayed behind hesitantly.

Kai wandered away, his head tilting up to stick his tongue out at the snowflakes. You smiled at his childish antics, and Elena pulled you and Bonnie aside.

“I don’t… I don’t want to leave you guys alone with him.”

You felt confused at Elena, wondering why she was so concerned when she knew how much Kai cared about you, “Elena, we’ll be fine.”

“He’s good now, remember? New leaf.” Bonnie stated, making you frown in further confusion. Bonnie wasn’t one to believe in Kai so easily.

“It’s-It’s not that.” Elena stammered, “I just…” She sighed, defeated. “Just play nice, the both of you.”

She turned, following after Damon as you and Bonnie exchanged a look of suspicion towards one another.

“New leaf.” You both turned to see Kai approaching you both, his head cocked to the side as he analyzed Bonnie. “You believe me.”

“Hell no.” Bonnie’s voice rang out with an edge, and you bristled with annoyance. “But Damon and Elena need to meet his mom alone. So shut up and help me find the ascendant.”

Bonnie held out her hand, and Kai sighed as he took off a glove and pricked his finger. As he let the blood sleep onto the other witch’s hand, he sighed somewhat awkwardly before speaking up, “You have really nice palms.”

You looked at him with a raised brow, both confused and annoyed. Kai shrugged with an awkward smile, and Bonnie scoffed under her breath.

“Phasmatos Tribum, Nas Ex Veras, Sequitas Sanguinem.”

Kai stayed quiet as she changed, before blurting words out. “I really have changed, you know?”

Bonnie ignored him, continuing to chant. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb back and forth. Kai looked at you, and grabbed your other hand, placing it on his cheek for comfort as he closed his eyes. You placed your other hand on his other cheek, and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “I believe you.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but when he heard it- he believed it. God, he loved you. He loved the way you loved him. He leaned into your hand, softly pressing his lips against your wrist with a gentle peck.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You both turned to see Bonnie’s disgusted expression, and Kai rolled his eyes as Bonnie walked past you both. “The ascendant is this way.”

As Bonnie walked away, Kai quickly and discreetly gave you a peck on the lips. You smiled, kissing him back before he took your hand and started to follow Bonnie through the woods.

After a couple minutes, Bonnie spoke up. “The spell feels stronger. The ascendant must be around here somewhere.”

Kai scoffed, “Why would the ascendant be here?”

Bonnie turned and frowned at him, “I don’t know. I didn’t put it here.”

Kai rolled his eyes, letting go of your hand and looking around the snow. You did the same, walking a couple paces away to look for the ascendant.

“If you don’t think I’m capable of change, why spend an entire day with me? Why bring me out in the middle of nowhere?”

You hummed in thought, wondering about what Kai was saying as you glanced around the snow for the ascendant.

“I mean… I could gut you all over again. Your friends would never even hear you scream.”

Bonnie sighed, “Because maybe you’re right. Maybe, deep down, there’s a part of me that believes there’s a sliver of good in you.”

“And you’d be right!” Kai laughed, almost disbelievingly. “Looking, looking, and… nope, they didn’t hide the ascendant in a pile of snow over here or over-“

You groaned, feeling a sharp pain as a stake went into your throat. You keeled over, grasping for it desperately. You looked behind you, seeing Bonnie raise a brow behind Kai, and you realized she must’ve thrown it with her magic.

Kai looked over, confused before sharply gasping as he was stabbed in the back by Bonnie’s large hunting knife. He fell onto the floor, attempting to crawl away when Bonnie stabbed his thigh from behind.

“Bonnie!” You heard Kai groan, and the drive to help overpowered.

You grunted, taking the stake out of your throat. You gasped, being able to breathe once more. You looked over, seeing Bonnie’s back to you as she leaned over Kai with her knife in hand.

“What are you doing?!” You screamed, making her glare back at you.

“Gaining his trust, and then stabbing him in the back? Sound familiar?!” She turned back to Kai, and your boyfriend winced in pain.

“Please, don’t, Bonnie-”

“Don’t what? Don’t-Don’t leave you here? All alone?!” She shouted, justifiably enraged. “Don’t abandon you and make you feel hopeless?!”

“Please, Bonnie! He’s changed-” You interceded.

“I have! Bonnie, please, please believe me. I’ve changed.” Kai whimpered, desperately.

“And I have to.” Bonnie spoke, her voice unwavering as she raised the knife above Kai.

You used her focus on him to speed towards her, pushing her and yourself yards away from where Kai lay on the ground. You stood using your super-speed about a foot away from Bonnie, seeing her get up with her knife, and she was suddenly charging towards you now. You held your hands out, “Wait, Bonnie! Wait!”

Bonnie didn’t stop, gritting her teeth as she used her other to cast a spell. You were suddenly immobilized, and you had to spit it out. You had to tell her.

“Bonnie, don’t! Please, I’m pregnant!”

Silence. She stopped midway, panting and looking at you in disbelief. You let out a grunt of relief, her magic releasing you now. She shook her head, “That’s-That’s not possible.”

“Bonnie…” You started, and she suddenly placed her hand on your stomach. The words died in your throat, and you looked at her confused while she closed her eyes in concentration. She gasped, eyes widened and looked at you with an unfathomable expression.

She backed away, dropping her knife with widened eyes. “You… How… You and Kai… pregnant.”

“Bonnie, he’s the father of my child, and the man I’m in love with.” You let out, somewhat disbelieving the words that came out of your own mouth. Despite that, you continued. “I know he’s hurt you, I know he’s manipulated you. I know-”

“What do you know of what I’ve been through?! What do you know of what HE put me through?!”

“Because not too long ago, he did the same to me!” You shrieked, suddenly feeling emotional when you recalled the incident with Elena. “When we kidnapped Elena, he made me bleed… he siphoned her almost to the point of desiccation. And she was hungry- and she chased me-”

Bonnie furrowed her brows with a shake of her head, “That’s literally horrible.”

“And then I ended up being killed… by you.” You finished, scoffing with humor at the whole situation. “As horrible as all of it was, here I am. With Kai, with his baby in my stomach, and begging for your forgiveness.”

“I’m not going to forgive him, (Y/N)-”

“Not for him. For me, Bonnie.” You let out another laugh, a stray tear releasing from your left eye from all the emotions you’re going through. “I don’t want this. I don’t want these fights. I want a normal life. As normal as I can get with a siphon boyfriend and a werewolf brother…”

Bonnie bit her bottom lip, suddenly perplexed with the whole situation.

“And as much as you hate Kai… Just… Please, don’t kill him. When we leave here, we’ll move away and you’ll never have to see us ever again. If that’s what it’ll take, I genuinely don’t care… Just, please, forgive me. And if not, the very least you can do is let my child have a father.”

Bonnie shook her head, turning away from you.

“Bonnie, I’m sorry. For everything that he and I have put you through, I am genuinely so sorry. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.” You sighed heavily, “I understand if you don’t accept my apology, or don’t forgive me. I get it. But I can’t let you kill Kai. I won’t.”

Bonnie huffed, turning to face you with a guilty expression. She spoke swiftly, “I never want to see either of you again.”

You let out an exhale of relief, watching Bonnie walk in the opposite direction of where she had been leading you and Kai. Oh my god, Kai!

You sped over to where you could hear his groans, and knelt by his grunting form.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Kai.” You gasped at the sight of the blood pooling around his thigh, and could feel yourself start to panic as Kai looked at you with a desperate and pained look. All the blood, it was… you could feel your face transform at the smell of it. Your heart was beating, but his was beating louder- and you were suddenly so hungry.

“(Y/N)-” Kai’s hand grasped your thigh, and you suddenly focused back into reality.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You bit your wrist roughly, barely even wincing at the pain. You grasped the back of Kai’s neck, helping him lean upwards and pressed your wrist against his mouth. He drank your blood greedily, and you breathed deeply, in and out, desperately trying to curb your appetite. It wasn’t like you were starving- you had dranken blood just this morning after the morning sickness incident with Elena. You were okay, you were okay…

Kai groaned into you, brows furrowed as he drank for only seconds more before pulling away. He gasped, sitting up and hissing in discomfort as his wounds started to heal. “Agh… God, that hurts like a bitch.”

You rubbed his back soothingly, still kneeling next to his sitting position, staying silent as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. He leaned his head onto your chest suddenly, and you were a little startled when he was silent, but you didn’t mind. You ran your hand through his hair, softly raking your nails against his scalp in the way Kai loved. Both of you stayed there for god knows how long in the snow, and you were brought out of your silence when Kai shivered. You gently grasped his head, moving him from your chest, and looked at his face.

He had a pensive expression, still silent and refraining from glancing at you. You purse your lips in slight annoyance, but merely let out a sigh as you gently grasped his face in your palms. “Kai… Are you okay? Are you cold? How can I help?”

“You…” The words died on his lips, but then his face went from pensive, to forlorn, to determined. “You need to leave.”

You stilled, and slightly shook your head with confusion. “What… What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you get it?” Kai suddenly pulled away from your grasp, standing and raising his voice as he spoke. “As long as I live, people will want to kill me.”

You stood, furrowing your eyebrows as he continued.

“We can’t just have a life together.”

You frowned, “Why… Why not?”

“Did you not just hear me?” He spoke harshly, his face angry and glaring. You tensed, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “People will want to kill me- to hurt me.”

“And what about it?” You scoffed, “I don’t see how that should stop us from being together.”

“To hurt you, to hurt Jacob, is to hurt me, (Y/N)! Bonnie could’ve killed you!”

“Who cares?! That doesn’t mean we-”

“That’s exactly what it means! I have a whole coven of enemies! I have a whole family of them!”

“So?! That doesn’t matter as long as we’re together!” You could feel yourself start to get emotional, and you hated how you couldn’t control them. “As long as we’re together, we can protect each other! I’m not some fragile little-”

“I don’t care what you are, (Y/N)! I want you to leave!” He yelled sharply, making you still as he grit his teeth. “Now.”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Leave.” His voice spoke gravely, and you could feel your eyes start to tear up. You shook your head again.

“No.” You glared at him, huffing in annoyance when your voice broke. “No! I’m not going to leave you-”

“Leave, or so help me I will-”

“What?! What are you gonna do, Kai?” You stood closer, feeling your chest swell with unease and fear. Not of him, but at the loss of him. You… Kai was a part of you. You couldn’t… no.

“You’ll just stay if I do, won’t you?”

“Hell yeah I will.” You were more determined than him, more stubborn. Who did he think he was to be a martyr, out of all the times to be one? He chose when you were pregnant? This idiotic… little… hot bastard.

He stayed silent, looking away from you and at the floor as his breath hitched. You swallowed, clenching your jaw, and balling your hands into fists. What could he do?

“It’s over.” You looked up at him in alarm, his eyes dead serious as they stared down at you. You shook your head, feeling anger rise as he swallowed and nodded, confirming his own words. “I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to be near you, near Jake, I…”

“Kai, don’t-”

“I’m breaking up with you.” His own voice slightly broke, and you winced involuntarily. The snow never felt colder, and you withheld a sob. “When we get back, we go our own separate ways. Do you understand?”

You nodded, letting out a shaky exhale as he walked past you and back where you guys had come from. The cold pricked your cheeks, pricked your nose… but the emptiness you felt in your chest was far worse. You followed Kai from a couple feet away, walking in awkward silence, and your eyes widened when you heard it.

“Sangiema meam et nos mundo carcerema. Sangiema meam et nos mundo carcerema.”

“Damon! No-!” Elena’s voice cut off with a small crack, and you gasped in realization.

Bonnie had just started chanting. Elena wouldn’t leave you, of course, but Damon wouldn’t let that happen. Why would he?

Kai looked at you when he noticed you stopped in your tracks with your eyes wide as you processed what you just heard. He walked closer, “What is it?”

“Bonnie… She’s leaving us.”

You two exchanged a look before breaking into a sprint through the woods, which of course you kept at his pace, and stopped when you saw them a couple yards away. You shouted, voice weak, “Bonnie, don’t!”

Bonnie raised a brow at you, continuing to chant as an unconscious Elena rested against a standing Damon, who held hands with a woman you could only assume was Lily. How could she? Why would she? She knew only you could catch up, only you could make contact before the spell was done. She wanted you to leave Kai.

There was no time. The spell would be over soon.

You grit your teeth, grabbing onto Kai. Before he could register what you were about to do, you sped with all your might towards the group about to leave. It was like slow-motion.

You pushed Kai with all your strength towards them, a bright light just shining as you did so. Kai’s expression changed as he realized what was happening, his eyes pleading, his mouth open in a gasp as he held his hand out towards you while he himself fell backwards into the group. You jumped, closing your eyes at the blinding bright light as you reached for his hand.

You fell to the floor with a grunt. Only the floor wasn’t wood like you expected; it was snow. As soon as you opened your eyes, the cold breeze of winter seemed all the much clearer especially since you had expected warmth in the Salvatore lodging house. But no, you were still here. You let out the sob you were holding since earlier, looking around the woods as it snowed, hoping and praying you had been knocked out from the world-jump. That this was only a nightmare. Your hand went to the ascendant in front of you, running your fingers across the cold metal. God, please let this be a nightmare.

That wasn’t the case, though. You were in the 1903 prison world.

And you weren’t alone. You heard something behind you, and turned around as something tackled you onto your back. You shrieked, “Ah!”

-

Kai grunted as his back crashed against Damon’s front, and was immediately pushed off. As soon as his hands met the wood floor of the Salvatore house, his eyes widened. He let out a gasp, “No. No, no, no.”

He stood, bewildered and looking at a shocked Bonnie and Lily. “Bonnie! Why would you do that- What-”

Bonnie clenched her jaw, and raised her chin defiantly. “(Y/N) made her choice.”

Kai practically snarled, “We have to go back, Bonnie!”

“When we go for my family, I’m sure you could accompany us.” Lily spoke calmly, and Kai glanced at her with incredulity. He knew that Damon lied to her, of course.

“Bonnie, give me the ascendant. Now.” Kai had never been so enraged in his life. Okay, maybe he had- but nothing ever felt like this. Nothing ever hurt him like this.

Bonnie grit her teeth, “No.”

Kai moved forward, only to have a hand on his chest hold him back. Damon. Kai glared up at the vampire, who only raised a brow.

“So you lost your baby mama- get over it.” Damon spoke as if you didn’t matter. As if you were some side-piece who- how- what did he even mean by that?!

“I. Lost. EVERYTHING!” Kai shouted, his voice full of vigor, the fire in the fireplace blazing wildly as he used his magic to throw Damon against the wall and onto the floor. Lily and Bonnie gasped, and in this moment- Bonnie was reminded of Klaus’ tantrums. Kai glared at the witch who had stabbed him earlier, his rage knowing no bounds. “GIVE ME THE ASCENDANT!”

“You want your ascendant?!” Bonnie screamed, taking the one from this world out of her pocket, “Here it is!”

Kai stepped towards her when she held it up, and threw it onto the floor with all her force. Both Kai and Lily screamed, “NO!”

The ascendant fell to the floor, smashing into a million pieces. Lily sped to it, whimpering to herself as she tried to collect all the pieces. “No, no no-”

“Incendia.” Bonnie spoke, lighting it on fire with a smirk. She looked at Kai, satisfied to see his suffering. Maybe it wasn’t justice, but it tasted just as sweet. Lily gasped away from the fire, her eyes tearing up with the loss of her family. Kai’s blue eyes darkened with fury.

Bonnie went to hold her hand out, wanting to fight against Kai, but whimpered when Kai flicked her against the wall only to immobilize her against it. Kai stomped past Lily, approaching Bonnie and grabbing the sides of her head. Bonnie’s eyes widened, realizing that he’d do something just as someone else had done once before. She shook her head, frantic, but powerless. “No, Kai!”

Kai chanted, his brows furrowed and his expression cruel. He didn’t care anymore- he couldn’t. Bonnie gasped, falling to the floor with a sob when Kai pulled away.

Kai huffed, “There. Now you can’t hurt anyone.”

Bonnie shook her head, still sobbing. She couldn’t form the words. Did she feel bad? Yes. Did she feel bad about Kai feeling bad? No. But now- her magic was gone. Kai took it, just like Dr. Martin had all those years again. She felt like a little girl all of a sudden- powerless, and human.

Damon groaned on his side, looking from Bonnie to Kai. “What did you do? Kai? What did you do?”

Kai glanced back at the ascendant, barely even noticing Lily as she glared at Bonnie, and walked towards it. Slowly, he picked up every little piece, no matter how burnt.

“Kai!” Damon stood, enraged at the sight of his best friend’s sobs. “Kai, what did you do?!”

“YOU!” Lily suddenly screamed, lunging for Bonnie.

Damon cursed, speeding to stop his mom. As Damon and his mom argued over Bonnie, Kai silently walked out of the Salvatore house with all the burnt ascendant pieces. Kai didn’t care how long it would take. Kai would fix it- and Kai would get you back.

No matter what.

----

Well, that's all folks. I will continue this series in another work of fiction, starting right from where we left off after a short break. So it's like, gonna be about ten chapters, but be a different name... basically a sequel. Truth be told, I procrastinated so hard on this chapter because the angst was killing me. Oh, what a long time it's been. Anywho- see you in a week or two to continue this angsty and loving fic!!

@fandom-strumpet @fangirlforever2412 @1-800-khaleesii @big-boobi

#kai x reader #tvd kai #kai x you #kai parker fanfic #kai parker gifs #tvd fanfiction #tvdversegifs #tvd fandom #tvdforever #kai parker #hot fanfiction #tvd angst #tvd x reader #tvd au

[hyenahunt]

Conquest - Prologue

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt

Hiyori: But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

[Location: ES Breakroom]

[One day in late spring...]

Hiyori: "Eden Breaks Up?! The decisive battle fans have all been waiting for: Adam VS Eve —"

—Or so says this ridiculous performance plan I just received over HoldHands.

I'd greatly appreciate a detailed explanation of just what is going on. Depending on your answer, chances are I won't let you off.

Nagisa: ...Wow, Hiyori-kun, your expression is frightening.

Ibara: Aye-aye! Allow me to offer you an explanation. After all, it is my job to see to it that this incomprehensible world is dissected, cooked up and arranged for serving.

That being said, however, this appetising proposal came from the higher-ups themselves, and as such I myself am not too clear on how it came to be.

All the same, I do have some grasp of the overall outline.

Nagisa: ...I had no idea about this. While I did receive it on HoldHands, I leave all administrative matters to Ibara.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, you're pretty much the leader of both Eden and Adam, aren't you?

I do feel it would be for the best if you managed such things yourself, but well, everyone has their individual strengths and weaknesses, I suppose?

Nagisa: ...Yes. I'd rather not concern myself with the everyday world. It's troublesome.

...And having Ibara look over it results in a more accurate understanding. He's the right person for this.

Ibara: Ahahaha! Receiving such praise and trust from you is truly an honour, Your Excellency!

Nagisa: ...I simply state the truth. By the way, Jun, did you know about this proposal?

Jun: Ugh, please don't drag me into this, Nagi-senpai. Ohii-san's been in such a crazy awful mood all morning and I wanna have nothing to do with it, y'know~?

In situations like these, I'm the one who usually ends up as his stress outlet, after all —

But whatever, I guess. What'd that proposal say again...?

It sounds like something only the unit leaders receive, so there's no way an underling like myself would know anything about it, yeah~?

Nagisa: ...Ahh, it does seem like that's how it works.

...It's set up so that all messages I receive are immediately forwarded to Ibara, so it doesn't concern me, though.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, are you alright with that?

If you leave every little thing to Ibara like that — or grow dependent on him, I should say—then aren't you going to have trouble living on if he randomly drops dead one day?

Ibara: Worry not! I won't be dying any time soon — I cannot allow myself to die when we've gotten this far already!

Hiyori: Well, even if Ibara does kick the bucket, I can look after Nagisa-kun like how I used to so everything will be just fine.

Ibara: Indeed, should such a situation ever arise, I will leave him in Your Highness' capable hands.

...Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, I do believe the current proposal isn't completely devoid of points worth considering.

Hiyori: ... In what way, may I ask?

Jun: (Woah. Ohii-san's face is seeeriously scary as hell right now. He's usually all silly laughs and smiles, so when he's got a serious face on you know shit's gonna go down.)

(This time he seems kinda actually really upset about things, huh?)

Ibara: Right. Firstly, it is essential to note that this proposal is by the restructured top brass of CosPro, after the majority of its executives were fired due to the scandal at the end of last year.

They're all most eager to repair their damaged reputations — money is no object in their quest to prove their innocence and competence.

So in short, they intend to create something of great extravagance with this proposal. They'll pull out all the stops, no matter what it takes.

And since this comes right on the heels of the scandal, even the higher-ups will be careful not to attempt anything dubious behind the scenes — so everything should be safe.

Nagisa: ...Well, true fools tend to repeat the same mistakes over and over, though.

Ibara: All the same, it's common knowledge that after the last scandal, we as Eden collectively denounced and drove out the top brass.

Taking that into account, the fact that they've put out a proposal means that they're prepared to face such a situation once more.

This is a proposal of great importance—one that puts their lives on the line, if you will.

At the same time, if we were to reject this proposal, which is composed of the desperate desires of these higher-ups, they'll simply shrink away and believe anything they do or say will be pointless.

I'd greatly prefer to have some clumsy fools bumbling about their jobs rather than frightened figureheads cowering in a corner.

To be frozen in place is no different from being dead, after all. And corpses certainly can't be mobilised for war.

Simultaneously, always saying anything and everything is out of the question will never allow for growth in us humans.

...Well, such overprotective and motherly behavior seems to be a favorite of His Highness Hiyori.

Hiyori: ...In what sense? I certainly feel as though you're mocking me right now, you know?

Ibara: Of course not, I would never do such a thing... It is but a misunderstanding.

But in any case, for the sake of the top brass gaining experience, and to grant them that sense of self-confidence and achievement, I would dearly like for us to accept their proposal.

Nagisa: ...It's actually an interesting proposal, too.

...A confrontation between Adam and Eve... I've never considered such a thing before.

Jun: Well, it kinda feels like something guys would be pretty into. It's almost like pro-wrestling.

Seeing who'd win if Adam and Eve faced off... that might really catch our fans' interest, actually~

Hiyori: Ngh... A lion is still the king of beasts even if he doesn't go around proclaiming it, right?

Ibara: Certainly. That being said, a performance is essential in allowing the masses to actually understand this, as they are rather slow on the uptake.

And it is for that purpose that we now have this current plan: "Conquest".

For us of Eden, who were regrettably only the runner-ups for the idol world's greatest festival, Winter Live, at the end of last year...

Perhaps it's a rather ambitious event, to try and realise that domination that once slipped through our grasp —

That world domination, thwarted by Trickstar, or rather obstructed by traitors within our own camp.

Now is the time to see it through — that, I feel, is the current sentiment borne by the higher-ups of CosPro.

Conquer all, and we shall seize the world within our hands.

Hiyori: Well, in all honesty, I do have faint regrets that we weren't able to conquer the nation at the end of last year.

But we'd still be able to make the world ours just by doing things as we always have. Why make a show out of something so unsightly as an internal quarrel—

Ibara: That's not the case. ES has now been established, and in this new era of oligarchy between the four agencies, it'll prove difficult to stand out if we simply go about our days without aim.

If we are to use a single showpiece to launch ourselves to the top, then it is essential for it to be explosive in nature.

In that sense, I believe Conquest is the ideal plan for it. Since the earliest times, people have always been drawn to showdowns of destiny, after all.

Such as Holmes and Moriarty, Godzilla and King Ghidora, Goku and Vegeta... Would you understand those examples, Your Highness?

Jun: Oh, I totally get you.

Ibara: Good. Let's see... it would be something akin to the War of the Roses — does that make sense?

Hiyori: Mm... I can't deny that a showdown between age-old enemies would be exciting, of course.

But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

No... I consider Eden a family, but am I the only one who feels that way?

Nagisa: ......

✦✦✦✦✦

✦ all ✦ next →

#hiyori tomoe #jun sazanami #nagisa ran #ibara saegusa #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #type: event #s: conquest #era: !! #status: complete #hyenahunttl

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

kiss it better

Everyone in my inbox was asking for some hurt/comfort today and I figured a little Jaskier whump tossed in wouldn’t make anyone mad.

tw: blood, stabbing, canon typical dumbassery and violence

---

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice sounded gurgly and wet. That wasn’t good. That was very incredibly not good. The Witcher whipped around and looked for his bard in the crowd. When his gaze landed on Jaskier, his blue eyes were wide, panicked and tearful. Geralt glanced down and saw his pale hand clutching at… clutching…

The hilt of a dagger stuck proudly out of Jaskier’s abdomen. 

---

“You’re traveling with the white-haired Witcher, aren’t you?” a high, snooty voice asked over the market din. Jaskier turned on his heel and came face-to-face with a somewhat familiar young nobleman. 

“Why yes, I do travel with Geralt, the White Wolf of Rivia,” the bard bowed with a flourish. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“I should hope I look familiar,” the man sniffed. “Your Witcher friend insulted me rather rudely in front of my Father’s entire court no more than two months ago. I’ve been sent on a fool’s errand while the rumors and shame dissipate in my absence.”

“My apologies, Milord. Geralt isn’t always good with his words. A fault, I am afraid, that belongs to many in his line of work.”

“Are those in his line of work any good at healing, do you know, bard?”

“That depends on the Witcher, Milord. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. I hope that your White Wolf is one such educated mutant,” the Lord sneered. There was a bright, surprising flash of silver and a sudden sharp pain bloomed through Jaskier’s abdomen. The noble waved his bloodied, gloved hand dismissively towards the market’s center. “Better go find your Witcher before you pass out or bleed to death.”

---

Geralt scooped Jaskier into his arms and ran as fast as his frantic instincts would allow, sprinting all the way through town to the well-marked apothecary’s stall. He pushed through the doorway of the shop and glared down the middle-aged woman behind the counter. “I need a healer. Now.”

She was about to protest his tone of voice when she saw the dagger still embedded in Jaskier’s midsection. The woman gasped and stuck her head behind a curtain that spanned the wall behind the counter, shouting clearly: “Fetch Elana! Fetch Elana, quickly! Have her meet me in the surgery!”

“Where should I put him?”

“Follow me,” the woman instructed, ducking through one of the doors on the left wall of the shop. Geralt followed closely behind, Jaskier now limp and unconscious in his arms. He could feel the bard growing lighter as precious drops of blood flowed freely from his wound. 

When Geralt found whoever did this to Jaskier, that person was going to pay dearly. 

---

“He was embarrassed at court so he stabbed you?” the healer asked again, shocked. Jaskier nodded. 

“Where’s Geralt?” he asked.

“Your Witcher friend?”

“I don’t exactly know that he’d call me his friend,” the bard smiled sadly. “But yes, my Witcher.”

“Ah, one of those, eh?”

Jaskier blushed furiously and shook his head. “No! No, nothing like that either. Geralt doesn’t…you see, since he’s a Witcher he doesn’t...”

“He doesn’t what?” a gruff voice asked from the doorway, urging Jaskier to finish his sentence. The bard flinched in surprise and winced when the movement agitated his wound. 

With a rush of unexpected movement, Geralt was at his side. Two broad hands settled against the bard’s shoulders and pushed him gently back into the mound of pillows. Two untamed eyebrows pulled together and several prominent lines appeared on the Witcher’s forehead. Jaskier was confused; Geralt seemed genuinely concerned with his comfort and wellbeing.

Once the anxious Witcher was sure that Jaskier wasn’t still bleeding to death, Geralt took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, “What don’t I do?”

“Consider me your friend.”

A sharp pang of something shot through Geralt’s chest. His hand found Jaskier’s where it rested atop the duvet and gripped it firmly but not roughly. “You’re my best friend in this entire world, Jaskier. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear sooner. I could have lost you just now and the thought of such a tragedy.. well, it’s terrifying.”

The bard’s jaw dropped. Geralt barely spoke three words to him on a good day and here the Witcher sat, spouting poetry at his bedside as if Jaskier was dying. “Are you alright, Geralt? Are you sick? Have you been hexed or cursed or poisoned?”

“No?”

“Then why are you saying all these kind and lovely things to me?”

Geralt pretended not to notice as the healer slipped silently out of the room and closed the door behind her. Now they were alone, and the Witcher felt safe enough to confess. He laced his fingers tightly with Jaskier’s and sighed, meeting the bard’s frightened gaze with his own. He opened his mouth to speak but the bard shook his head.

“Don’t,” Jaskier breathed, “Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Geralt of Rivia, or my heart may really, truly break for good. Don’t tell me that I mean something to you if you’re going to be all silent and solemn again tomorrow, dear heart, because I won’t be able to survive it. A broken heart I can handle. A stab wound I can live through. Both at once may kill me for good.”

“I love you, Jaskier.”

“Oh, Geralt-”

“When I saw you in the square, bleeding and terrified, the rest of the world went dark. There was you and only you. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe again until I knew you weren’t going to leave me alone in this world. Without the sound of your laughter and singing, the Path would be so horrifically silent. Without the sight of your smile every day, why would I ever want to open my eyes again? The light you shed brightens the world, my lark, and there would be no point in going on without you at my side.”

Jaskier’s eyes shone bright with tears and he squeezed the Witcher’s hand. 

“Geralt, my sweet, kind, and deadly Witcher,” he managed to gasp out, “The course of true love never did run smooth, did it?”

“I suppose not.”

---

Geralt laid him back against the headboard of their inn bed and took a nervous step away. Jaskier reached out for him automatically and groaned when the stretch of his movement pulled his stitches. The Witcher immediately moved back within reach. “Sit down you enormous fool,” Jaskier instructed.

Geralt took a hesitant seat at the edge of the lumpy mattress and let the bard take his hand. Jaskier fiddled around with his fingers, caressing up and down each one as he spoke softly.

“I know you’re going to feel all kinds of guilty over this, aren’t you?”

The Witcher nodded.

“Well I hate that!” Jaskier announced, tugging at Geralt’s hand to get his attention. The Witcher looked up and saw the grim determination in his bard’s shining cornflower irises. “So this is what’s going to happen, alright? Every time you feel tempted to mope or self-flagellate or whatever other stupid shit you do when you’re overwhelmed with regret and angst, you’re going to give me a kiss instead.” 

“Hmm?”

“That’s right. I want you to kiss me every time you start feeling guilty that I’m hurt. That way you’re doing something useful with all those pent up negative emotions. I’ll know you’re thinking about me and I’ll get free Witcher kisses.”

“How is this a punishment?” Geralt asked, looking down at the floor, shame written plainly across his handsome features. 

Jaskier used the tips of his fingers to tilt the Witcher’s head back up. Only once their gazes had locked did he speak again. He did so firmly, with strong conviction behind each and every clearly enunciated syllable: “You are not being punished, Geralt of Rivia, because you did nothing wrong. A stupid noble made a stupid mistake and took out his misplaced anger on me and you. We are victims, Geralt. We are not to blame at all, whatsoever.”

“But-”

Jaskier leaned forward, face twisting in pain, and pressed his lips against Geralt’s almost harshly. He fell back a second later, pale and panting, and clutched at his side. 

“Kiss me when you feel guilty, Witcher, or I won’t go back onto the Path with you when this is all over.”

“...Alright.”

“Good.”

“Rest, now, Jaskier. You need sleep so you can heal faster.”

“Lay with me, then,” the bard insisted. He scooted forward and allowed Geralt to slip into bed behind him. From there the paranoid Witcher could watch the door and hold Jaskier close. 

A few moments later, Jaskier felt a delicate kiss press against the nape of his neck and he smiled. He closed his eyes and settled against the pillows, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his abdomen and side. Another kiss dampened the back of his head. Then another. He squeezed Geralt’s hand. Several more followed in quick succession, leading from the back of one shoulder blade to the other. A dozen kisses of apology. Perhaps more.

Jaskier pressed one kiss of his own to the back of Geralt’s knuckles. He heard the Witcher’s quiet gasp and smiled to himself. 

“You’re forgiven, Geralt. I love you very much and I refuse to be parted from your side from this day forward. Now, quiet that busy Witcher brain of yours and rest with me.”

#geraskier #getting together #admitting their feelings #stabbing #blood tw #knife tw #stabbing tw #jaskier whump #geraskier whump #soft geralt #caring geralt #protective geralt #panicked geralt #hurt jaskier #injured jaskier #geralt nurses jaskier back to health #hurt/comfort #geraskier hurt/comfort #fluff #geraskier fluff #for all y'all sad peeps tonight #kissing #smooching #geraskier smooches #canon universe #fuck the bourgeousie

[caseywond3r]

(this can now be read on my AO3, as well!!)

(started out as a reblog/response to this post by @phibii, but it got too long. still please go give the original post some love!!)

(also, please note that this is all in good fun. I don't actually ship DNF and I am not speculating about their sexualities or relationship. this is just a lighthearted drabble based on their internet personalities.)

- - -

George sits in Dream's lap while he's editing. Dream isn't really sure why. It just started one day when George decided he wasn't getting enough attention because Dream was too focused on his work. He's like a cat. He wants Dream's attention any time he's busy. He's not even that clingy usually, but he gets frustrated when he doesn't at least have the option of having Dream's undivided attention. So, he sits in his lap while he edits.

Dream loses his shit a little bit at first, doing his, "what? WHAT?" that he always does when George flirts with him, but he's also so used to George's antics that after the first time it happens, he's just like, "Okay. I guess this is a thing now." It becomes one of their things, one of the thousand little rituals they share, and neither would ever admit to it, but they really enjoy it. It feels safe, it feels warm. It makes them feel closer to one another, not only physically, but emotionally. Maybe Dream even starts putting out more videos just because he knows that George will sit on his lap when he's busy with editing—though that's probably just wishful thinking on my part. And maybe he doesn't fully realise that it isn't a solely platonic affection because it's George, ya know? This is his best friend and he loves him dearly and it's normal to want to spend time together and be close to each other, ya know? And yeah, when Sapnap walks in on them like this, he makes fun of them, but what does he know? This is normal.

Except... A few days later, when Sapnap tries to sit on Dream's lap as a joke, to make fun of him for doing it with George, Dream pushes him off immediately. It doesn't feel all nice and warm and sweet with Sapnap. Not like it does with George, despite being equally as good of friends with Sapnap. That's when Dream finally realises, This isn't normal at all.

He's nervous now. He doesn't know what he's feeling and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to label it. After all, it's always been there, hasn't it? He's always felt this way. He just didn't realise that what he was feeling wasn't normal.

He puts off recording for weeks on end. The fans are ticked. They're trying to be supportive of his break, but what can they say? They miss their streamer. After two months with zero YouTube videos, Dream runs out of excuses. He records his new video and dodges George's thinly veiled questions about when he plans to edit it, waiting until George is out with friends to do so.

The hours stretch on and Dream is getting more and more frustrated. His ADHD is flaring up. He can't focus on anything. Every click of his keyboard is too loud, every flash of his monitor is too loud. Something is just wrong and he's not stupid, he knows what it is, but he can't admit it. Because if he admits it, then it becomes real, and he's not ready for it to become real.

So, he sits, and he tries not to let the frustration spill out from his eyes, and he tries not to let his mind wander into wondering why he feels this way about his best friend. He hears the front door open and he can only hope that it's Sapnap because he hasn't gotten enough work done to go to bed now and hide under the covers and pretend he isn't awake when George comes in to check on him.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn't always get what he wants.

The door creaks open and Dream knows without even looking that it's George. He's the only one in the house who never learned how to knock. George pauses for a second in the doorway, noting Dream's screen curiously, before stepping forward into his line of sight.

"Dream?"

Dream's glassy, bloodshot eyes respond for him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" George asks. "Are you okay?"

"No," Dream snaps. "I'm not fucking okay. I can't fucking focus on any of this shit. I haven't gotten a single thing done tonight."

George steps ever closer, pulling Dream into a hug. With Dream in his desk chair, George finally gets to feel taller than him as he pulls Dream against him and feels his face press into his stomach. "It's okay, Dream. You're trying your best. Sometimes, you just need to call it quits and start again tomorrow."

"I can't. I've already put it off for too long."

"Well, then, at least let me keep you company."

"No." Dream rips himself away from George, pushing his chair back a few feet.

"Why not?"

"Because... Because... I don't feel right."

"What do you mean? Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick. Dammit, George, I just... I don't feel what I'm supposed to feel for you. I don't know what I feel at all."

George doesn't look disgusted, and Dream thinks he must've misunderstood him. If George knew about all of Dream's big, swirling, terrifying feelings, there's no way he'd be so steady. Almost like he's trying to calm a frightened animal, when he asks, "Does it matter?"

"What?"

"Whatever you feel, it isn't wrong. I feel it, too, I guess. And I don't know what it is either, but it doesn't really matter, does it? Because we both feel it. We both care a lot about each other and we both love to be around each other. How can that be wrong?"

Dream chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of all the million reasons why this is a terrible idea—whatever this is. He can't. He can't think of a single goddamn thing. Reluctantly, he pushes himself back toward George, opening his arms.

Instead of sitting on Dream's knee, facing the computer, like he normally does, George sits facing Dream, smaller thighs bracketing larger ones, and rests his head in the crook of Dream's neck, deep and slow breaths fanning out against the tanned skin.

It takes Dream a few minutes to find the courage to ask, "What are we?"

George pulls away from Dream's neck, giggling like that's the stupidest question he's ever heard. "We're us, idiot."

Dream chews on that for a second, lets the words perforate his stupid brain and calm the rushing blood in his ears. "I think I like that," he says finally.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He pulls George back in to rest against his neck, tucking his own face into the pillow of George's hair. "I like us."

#dnf #dreamnotfound #fanfiction #drabble #fluff #communication #feelings realization #this was written as queerplatonic!dnf with aro!george and questioning!dream but you can interpret it however :)) #this isn't proofread at all. like not even a little bit. so I'm really sorry about that lmao #pls know that I'm not usually this shit of a writer and maybe check out my other works 🥺👉👈 #or dont lol #anyways have a nice day ily byeee #caseywrites

[moon-lixie]

there are some encounters that happen at the wrong time but that doesn't mean they're easy to forget.

word count: 1.895k

warnings: mentions of alcohol.

genre: Seungmin x Felix, mild angst, mild fluff.

song: Scaredy Cat - DPR IAN

note: this is a extra scene for my story Mulberry night that you can read here, and that I would recommend reading beforehand to understand better what's going on.

It had something to do with the concerning amount of alcohol he carried on his veins or the mesmerizing beauty he found in the stranger’s orbs, but he had been left stupefied with just one glance at the taller man.

His hair was pushed upwards and to the sides leaving his forehead in full display, his lips had been twisted in a disapproving grimace until he locked eyes with Felix’s lost ones, then he had urged himself to pretend the spilled substance marking the blond’s clumsiness was nothing that could ever manage to upset him.

“I’m so sorry.” Felix felt his confidence wash away at the sight of the very much sober man, suddenly conscious of the small slur of his words and the way his hands didn’t move as fast as he would’ve wished when he reached to try and wipe away at the stain with his own fingertips.

“It’s fine, really,” the stranger told him, fingers circling his wrist in order to stop him from moving further; Felix felt small and lost, then all of a sudden the man smiled at him and every ugly feeling his chest cradled washed away for the time being. “Let’s just take this away from you so it doesn’t happen again.”

He had no idea what was going on but he couldn’t fight the giggle that left his lips when the man reached out and took the half empty glass from his hand with an amused glint on his eyes, just to leave it forgotten on a random table.

“Do you want to dance?” The words stumbled from his lips without previous thought; he was drunk and simply too careless to keep track of everything that tried or ended up coming out of his mouth.

Nevertheless the man in front of him didn’t seem persuaded to leave because of this, he simply nodded and offered a, “I’m not the best at it, but if you’d like,” before allowing Felix to string him along to where the lights shone with much more intensity.

It was hard for him to keep track of what happened after that, he was quickly lost in between the glow of the man’s skin under the hellish lights of the club and the way he would smile tentatively and yet widely for Felix to admire.

Somewhere along the dancing and mindlessly laughing he had slipped his name and soon Seungmin had corresponded with telling him his own, enchanting his tongue to only wanting to pronounce that for the rest of the night.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he had not drank a drop of anything but water ever since Seungmin had slipped himself into his night, and that he had no desire to do it because suddenly his problems didn’t weigh as heavily while he held his hand.

That’s exactly why he hadn’t been able to stop himself from accepting each and every one of the considerate things the other man had offered him, from bottles of water that helped him sober up to a journey to his apartment just to make sure he made it safe home that had suddenly ended up with Seungmin’s back against the wall.

He couldn’t help himself, even if he wasn’t as far gone as he had at the beginning of the night, he still tried to hold dearly onto every single thing that made his heart feel less bruised and right then it was Seungmin’s lips that did the trick.

With hurriedness he held onto the caramel locks of the taller man, kissing him like he had to make every second count, meanwhile all Seungmin did in return was kiss him back slower, decreasing his hurried pace.

Seungmin’s hands held him by his waist with a gentle grip, later leaving his fingers to trace comforting circles right on the skin of his torso; that’s when his heart began aching all over again but for different reasons than what had been bothering him before.

He parted away from the gentle kiss and sighed the heaviest exhale of his entire life, tears threatened to form on his eyes but he bit them back before facing the adorable man whose cheeks were flushed and who looked like he was willing to give him everything in this world if he dared ask, even if he didn’t know him one bit.

The words that left his lips next were a puff of pain seasoned with the right amount of fear. “I can’t do this.” Any hesitation that he was experiencing before was completely ripped off of his body when Seungmin nodded understandingly despite having no idea what was going on.

The universe must like to play with him because how else would he have ended up stumbling with someone like him on a night that he had planned to be his own demise, just like the many others that had come before.

“You seem like a really nice guy that has his crap together,” Felix began, softly laughing pitifully to himself. “I’m everything but what you may be looking for.”

Seungmin looked him in the eye and said nothing but he could see he had not yet convinced him to walk away so he did first, moving away from the warmth his body provided him and simply holding onto him by his hand.

“Seungmin, I am a mess, I go out every night to get drunk just to crawl myself back home and regret everything I did when the morning comes; the worst thing is that I can’t stop.” The sincerity with which he spoke was frightening because those were things he had difficulty accepting to himself and yet the man in front of him was making him pronounce them with ease if that’s what it took to convince him that he was a bad person not worth his time. “I like you but I don’t want you near me, not when I’m like this.”

“I like you too.” That wasn’t the answer Felix was expecting, not at all. “When you bumped against me and I looked up the first thing I thought was that your smile was enthralling and then you laughed and...” Seungmin sighed and allowed his eyes to close for a split second before his pupils made contact with his again, sporting a glimmer that made Felix feel every inch of his body tingling giddily.

“It was unlike me to be there today, my friends are the responsible ones for my presence, but I don’t regret it. When I saw you I couldn’t care less that my shirt was soaked in alcohol nor that you were beyond tipsy, and that too, is unlike me.” His long fingers brushed his hair backwards with a mild amount of distress that was tampered by the almost blissed out smile he sported like it wasn’t a crime against Felix’s heart. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t mind getting to know you, even if you need time and space right now. Felix, you’re one of a kind and letting you go would be stupid, I know as much after spending tonight with you.”

Once again it was his considerate and nice actions that convinced Felix further that he couldn’t do that to him, no matter how much he felt like he wanted to.

“I’m afraid it might take me a lifetime.” With that, the shorter man walked forward to press a peck against Seungmin’s cheek before finally letting go of his hand, this time determined to get inside his apartment and forget about tonight as fast as he could do.

Seungmin laughed, getting the message, and if he was discouraged by it he didn’t let it show. “I have time.”

That took Felix to the present day and his trembling fingers thrumming against his thigh while he waited for the prettiest man in the world to open the door, trying to convince himself that perhaps three months weren’t enough for Seungmin to have forgotten about him.

He brought himself to knock a second time, if only to soothe his nerves; he was beginning to feel like it was a terrible idea and Chan would need to put up with his complains if the door didn’t open soon, or worse, if the door opened to reveal someone who was way over him in the way Felix couldn't.

For the past months the memory of Seungmin had been kept in a corner of his mind for the moments in which he had allowed himself to be happy and especially for all of the times in which he tried to get his life in order.

The image of the tall and good looking man was burned on his lids, appearing every single time he closed his eyes to drift to sleep, that’s why he couldn’t help but feel small surprise bubble in his chest at the sight of the man in front of him, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and hair slightly messy falling softly around his head.

After taking a deep breath he smiled warmly at the sight and broke into a giggle as he watched the man’s scowl yet again dissolve at the sight of him.

“How?” Was all Seungmin asked at first, allowing his eyes to take in the figure of the smaller man; Felix couldn’t help but wonder if he liked his dark hair, even if he had dyed it a long time ago, Seungmin hadn't seen it before.

“Jisung,” Felix offered as an explanation, referring to the friend that they apparently had in common, not that he knew Jisung that much but any friend of Chan’s was also his. The taller man’s mouth shaped itself in a surprised ‘o’ before he smiled again.

“You said you would need a lifetime,” Seunming said almost as a reproach but there was no real bite to his words.

Felix shook his head amused. “I said, ‘I think’,” he replied matter of factly; he could remember the conversation with an uncanny accuracy. “And you said you had time so I thought...”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the pause the older made, perhaps expecting him to continue despite Felix’s obvious unwillingness to do so, and it was when he seemed to catch onto that detail that he took it upon himself to continue the conversation like nothing happened. “I meant everything I said that night, I must confess that I had been waiting to catch a glimpse of your blond hair around the city but I wasn’t that lucky.”

And there it was again, the warmth and happiness he had experienced all those months ago, coming back like they had never left. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Would you like to get coffee with me?”

“Right now?” Seungmin laughed and nodded before saying, “Of course I mean right now, I just need to get ready real quick.”

And like that they left, not before the taller man let him know that he looked so much brighter —and prettier too— than the last time he had seen it, if that was possible; Felix felt the urge to tell him how much that was because of him but decided to keep it for later on along with the explanation of everything that had happened to him that he could give after they got to know each other better.

#straykidsland #kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #seunglix #seungmin fluff #felix fluff #stray kids seungmin #stray kids felix

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 4

Trigger warning for suicide and suicide baiting.  Starts and ends at the * asterisks.  

.

There was something wrong with the school.  Other than it being entirely within Midoriya’s head.  It was… ominous.  Foreboding.  The way the walls joined together was wrong.  The colors on the posters clashed.  The incomprehensible background noise made by the bright blurs was jeering, mocking.

It reminded Aizawa too much of his old school, the one he went to before UA.  Of the looks and the hate he got just because his quirk frightened people.

But Midoriya had a straightforward physical quirk.  Correction: he appeared to have a straightforward physical quirk.  Even if he’d had the bone breaking problem, he shouldn’t have experienced anything like that.

Aizawa was shoved, hard, from behind, and that shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but it did.  He tumbled, painfully, to the ground.  There hadn’t been anyone there to push him.

Except the blurs.

He cursed inwardly.  He had been too fast to dismiss them, he realized, as cruel laughter rose up around them.

“They can touch us,” said Aizawa.  “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, sporting a black eye already.  “I apologize for my inattention.”

More laughter.  An older, but still indistinct voice rose above the sound, along with a taller blur.  A teacher.  The condescension in the tone made Aizawa’s teeth hurt.

He caught sight of Suzuki ahead.  “Come on,” he said.

“Let me try something, sensei,” said Todoroki.  He raised his arm, and ice filled the hallway, pushing out to either side.

The blurs ignored it.  The jeering increased in volume.  Aizawa could make out individual words, now, like ‘useless’ and ‘freak.’

“Good thought, Todoroki,” said Aizawa.  He tried not to let his trepidation show.  He had a feeling this was going to be difficult.

The children looked at him in horror.

“Sensei,” said Iida, “you’re being… encouraging?”

“Just follow them,” said Aizawa, pointing.  He wanted hazard pay for this nonsense.

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, zooming off.  He was immediately tripped again.

Luckily, Suzuki didn’t seem to be having much more luck.  The blurs, which Aizawa guessed were somehow Midoriya’s memories of his former classmates, were just as violent with him.  Aizawa couldn’t see Midoriya anymore.

Laughter.  One of the blurs scratched at Aizawa’s side and murmured tauntingly.  They passed a nurse’s office where nothing but cold words and cold winds emerged.  The hallways smelled like smoke and sugar and things that had to be related to quirks.

There was a loud ring overhead, and the blurs abruptly vanished.  Despite the burns Aizawa had suffered (when?) he forced himself to speed up.

He almost caught Suzuki before he entered the classroom.

Iida slipped on the tile floor, hitting him from behind, and all of them skidded into the classroom as a tangled mess.  Aizawa hadn’t been this clumsy since he was in middle school.  What was going on?

Midoriya was sitting at a desk, hunched over and muttering.  The desk was, to put it nicely, ruined.  Even from Aizawa’s current perspective, he could make out some truly hateful things carved into the wood and metal.

Aizawa dearly hoped that this was exaggerated.  Even so, he was going to seriously talk to Midoriya about therapy and taking legal action against this hellhole.

“What are you hiding?” asked Suzuki, roughly.

*

The classroom exploded into sound, blurs at the desks solidifying into outlines, into ghosts.

You’re also applying to UA, aren’t you, Midoriya?

Midoriya froze and buried his head in his arms.  Aizawa, halfway up with the intent to stop whatever this was, felt himself freeze as well.

This mindscape affected him far too much for his peace of mind.

The ghosts laughed, long and hard and cruel, the teacher did nothing to stop it.

Then Bakugou’s shade exploded.  Literally.  The smaller Midoriya barely had time to throw himself back, away from the blast.  Midoriya’s reflexes had much improved since middle school, but, honestly, even this much was impressive for someone of his age.

Come on, Deku!  Forget the crappy quirks, you’re totally quirkless!

… What?

Aizawa missed the next several sentences as his mind whirred, trying to comprehend what he just heard.  But then another explosion brought him back, and Bakugou’s next words were completely unmissable.

If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!

Just like that, whatever was holding them in place broke, the ghosts fading away entirely, leaving the classroom completely empty except for them and Midoriya.

Midoriya who was shaking, fists clenched, tears running down his face.

“Are you happy now?” he demanded.  “Are you happy?  Why couldn’t you just let me-?  Me being quirkless in middle school isn’t hurting anyone!”  He took several deep but uneven breaths, his shoulders trembling.

Uraraka stepped forward, and Midoriya flinched.

“Izuku?” she said, hesitantly.

Midoriya looked up, his expression guarded.

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get out of here is punch Bakugou.”  She said it cheerfully, one hand in a fist.

Midoriya gaped, but some of the oppressive, terrified, atmosphere dissipated.

Aizawa sighed to himself.  Now that the immediate danger seemed to be over, he moved closer to Midoriya.  He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to comfort a memory or a fragment or figment or whatever this was, but he wanted to be between Midoriya and Suzuki.  Especially given that Suzuki seemed to be able to manipulate the environment to some extent.

“Plus ultra,” agreed Todoroki.

“Uraraka!  Todoroki!” gasped Iida, scandalized.  “You can’t just punch a classmate outside of school supervised sparring!”

“I love you Iida, but you’re a bit of a hypocrite sometimes,” said Uraraka.  “Especially considering, uh…”  She gestured vaguely at Iida’s hands and then Midoriya’s face.

Iida turned a very funny color, then looked down at his hands.  “Oh my god, you’re right…”  He whispered, horrified.  “What have I become?”

“Besides,” said Todoroki, “Aizawa is like, right here.”  He gestured at Aizawa.  “We can ask him if we can—”

“No,” interrupted Suzuki, “that can’t be it!  Show me what you’re hiding!”  He started forward only to be jumped by three extremely annoyed hero students.  Just to be safe, Aizawa activated his quirk and kept it trained on the man.

“Mind the gun!” reminded Iida.

Ah, yes.  The gun.  Which the man may or may not have recovered at any point due to the impermanent nature of everything here.  Lovely.

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “he’s after you.  Get out of here.”

“Yes,” said Midoriya.  “Sorry, sensei.”  He bobbed in an incomplete bow and turned to the door.

And there was that stupid gun.

Aizawa wished he had his capture weapon back.

“What are you keeping secret?” demanded Suzuki, his voice echoing somewhat.

Midoriya clutched his head and screamed, falling to his knees.  His body vanished entirely, but the sound remained, somehow.

The classroom fell apart.

.

Very briefly, Tenya recognized Hosu.  The smoke, the alley, the distant, indistinct cries of Manual.  It wasn’t the alley where he’d found Stain standing over Native, however.  This was… this was Midoriya’s perspective.

The scene shifted again, rapidly.  They were now in the entrance tunnel to the sports festival arena.  The air smelled of smoke.  Todoroki startled, but—

It fell away.  A hallway in UA, the smell of coffee.  Then, one of the soundproofed conference rooms, papers on a table, the writing all blacked out.  Suzuki lunged for them, Aizawa punched him in the face.

Another shift, a dilapidated apartment with footprints on the walls and ceilings.  A microwave hummed in the background.  As soon as it dinged, they were elsewhere again.

Back on the beach.  The light was different.  A single car still remained and—

They were on a rooftop.

The wind blew mournfully.

Midoriya was standing at the edge, uniform in disarray, a burnt notebook clutched in one hand.

“Stop it!” he shouted, almost doubled over.  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Tenya took a step forward before he could fully assess the situation.  If he tried to grab Midoriya now…  There was a good chance he’d go right over the edge.

“There it is!  That smile of his is just a mask—”

“Of course, it’s a mask, you idiot!” exclaimed Midoriya, angrily.

Angrily.

Midoriya rarely got angry.

“I am clinically depressed, and I have anxiety!  That doesn’t make me a villain.  Are you stupid?  Are you on drugs?  Is the whole commission on drugs?  All Might’s smile was a mask ninety percent of the time!  And don’t you dare try to tell me that Hawks’ smile isn’t a mask.  Do you do this to him, too, you sicko?”

Suzuki had gone very stiff.  “How do you know about that?”

“Because I have functioning eyes, unlike virtually everyone else, apparently.  What is wrong with you?”

“You,” said Suzuki, “are in no position to ask questions.  What are you hiding here?”

“You really want to know?  Do you?  Do you?  Huh?”

“Midoriya—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, I can’t take this anymore, this is so stupid.”

This Midoriya was… also not quite right, it seemed.  Beyond age.

“You want to know why this place is a secret?  Fine.  Fine!”  He threw his hands on the air.  “This is the first and last place I seriously considered suicide.  Happy?”  The last was said with such an incredible amount of venom that everyone took a step away from Midoriya.

“Suicide?” said Tenya out loud, unable to stop himself.

“I didn’t want to—Hero courses filter stuff like that out!  If they think you’re going to be a liability!”  He was breathing heavily.  “Are you happy now?  You have my- my deep, dark secrets!  You know what- what I was like before, and—”

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, gently, “it’s fine.  UA doesn’t filter for that.  All you would have to do is attend extra counseling.”

“Really?” said Midoriya.

*

“That can’t be it,” said Suzuki.  “You…” He whipped his head around.  “There was someone else here.  Who stopped you?  Was this where All for One recruited you?”

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Tenya, activating his quirk long enough to skid to a halt right in front of Suzuki.

Suzuki looked past him as if he weren’t even there.  “Who was with you?”

A faint breeze picked up.  Without power, can one become a hero?  No, I should think not…

“All Might?” said Uraraka.

“All Might?!” repeated Suzuki incredulously.

The scene changed in a blink.  They were in a pedestrian tunnel.

Midoriya, as disheveled and tiny as he was on the roof, leaned up against the wall, clearly wary of them in general and Suzuki in particular.

First contact… whispered a voice that dragged across Tenya’s mind like the end of a silk curtain.

“First contact?” said Suzuki.  “What is that supposed to-?”

“Hey!”

They turned to see a figure standing beyond the tunnel’s mouth, in the sunlight.  They were tall and slender, perhaps as tall as Tenya, and wearing a hoody and disposable medical mask.  The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Tenya couldn’t place it.  It sounded like the owner was about their age.

“Ha!” said Suzuki.  “This guy definitely isn’t Midoriya!  You have to admit-!”

“Are these guys bothering you?” asked the boy in the hoody.

“Yes,” said Midoriya.

“Well, don’t worry now!  Because I am here!”

“Are you… a vigilante?” guessed Tenya as the unknown boy stepped into the tunnel.  Many of them had an appreciation for All Might.

“Sure!” said the boy, cheerfully.

“Mutation-based speed enhancement,” muttered Izuku, sliding across the wall towards the boy.  “Fire and ice user.  Five-point activation mass alteration.  Quirk negation with secondary minor telekinesis.  Some kind of thought or memory manipulation, possibly a form of telempathy that allows him to alter the local environment as a side effect.  May have a truth-detection component.”

A thread of ice wound down Tenya’s back.  Even if he didn’t believe that Midoriya was a traitor, that he was giving information about them so freely to this stranger, as if they were enemies, was chilling…  Even if it did evolve that this was just a figment of his imagination…

“Ha!  It’ll take more than that to get rid of me!” said the vigilante, pointing a thumb at his chest.

If Tenya wasn’t mistaken, however, there was a bit of a wobble in his voice.

“Mass alteration can act like freefall.  No conscious control of how much mass is altered, can only reduce mass,” continued Midoriya, now hiding behind the taller boy.  “Ceiling of absolute temperature alteration from average is lower for fire than for ice.  Speed enhancement can be used to power kicks.  Mind the capture weapon.  Scarf.”

“Gotcha!”

The vigilante lunged for Suzuki and threw him bodily into Aizawa.  While the adults were recovering, the students moved to flank the stranger.  He attempted to throw Uraraka in the same way, but she got him with her quirk and he floated towards the ceiling, which he kicked off, enough power in the movement to clock Todoroki in the jaw.

Tenya attempted to apply a kick at the vigilante’s exposed but still-floating back, but was nearly stabbed in the eye with a pencil by Midoriya.

“Sorry,” said Midoriya, breathlessly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t do this for real.  I thought about it.  But I didn’t.  Sorry.”

“You thought about stabbing me in the eye?”

“No.  Muscular.  The sludge villain.  I thought—Maybe I should have.”  His muttering rapidly became unintelligible.

Tenya was distracted enough by the muttering that he took a second longer than he should have to react to Midoriya going after his bad shoulder.  The tip of the pencil dug right into it.

“Sorry, sorry, this is a dream, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

“Disengage!” shouted Aizawa.  “There’s no point in fighting these guys!”

“The hell there isn’t!” said Suzuki.

“Dissension among the ranks, eh, villains?” asked the vigilante.

“Hey!” complained Uraraka.  “Don’t lump us in with him!”

The vigilante, somehow, got a hold of Aizawa again.  Despite his young appearance, he had a lot more skill than Iida, or even Midoriya.

Aizawa managed to get a blow across the boy’s face, knuckles knocking his hood and mask askew, and—

He would recognize that smile anywhere.  Even if it wasn’t paired with the floppy bangs they had all come to know.

“All Might?!”

.

Toshinori tried to ignore his growing headache as he laid out supplies.  Izuku was sleeping, and they were safe for now, but it would be foolish of them to assume that the Hero Commission would just let Izuku disappear.  The infinite variety of quirks in the world all but guaranteed someone with a tracking quirk would be after them, and soon.

Thus, it behooved them to disguise themselves.  

In this day and age, the easiest way to do that was to make it look like you had a quirk other than your own.  The bulky coat he had selected included a high collar and an apparatus that covered everything below the eyes, suggesting a disturbing or difficult-to-control mutation.   Of course, he’d also have to wear sunglasses.  His eyes were unfortunately distinctive.  The hair would have to go, too.

For Izuku, though, he couldn’t stand the thought of completely cutting his hair off—it would look strange in someone so young, anyway—so instead he had retrieved the hair bleach.  White hair, combined with a suit and properly worn tie, would make him appear older.  Lifts in his shoes would add to that impression.

The computer pinged.  Toshinori went to it and made a face.  He wasn’t technologically inclined at all, but Six was and had been a different story.  The computer was old, but Six was very good, and large organizations only rarely changed their protocols.

The commission had their tracker, a young rescue hero named Trace.  She was on her way to UA.  The details of her quirk…  Yes.  They could potentially even keep her away from the safehouse, if they took the opportunity to cross their paths…  But they would have to start preparing to leave now.

Izuku woke with a gasp and an anguished cry.  The pain in it was echoed by a spike in Toshinori’s headache.

Toshinori rushed to the room.  “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“They’re not in my head anymore,” said Izuku, knotting his fingers in his hair.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Toshinori, even as he knew it wasn’t.

Izuku shook his head.  “They’re not in my head anymore.  They’re in yours.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #my fic #long night in the valley #also on ffn and ao3

[drwcn]

The tragedy of a touch screen is yesterday at 3:08 am I thumbed the little “x” on my screen and deleted an entire answer I’d already written for this ask by closing the browser........I..........am an idiot.

This time, I will save draft.

See, three days ago, I wasn’t gonna even make this lil hc of mine into a thing, but because I am a spiteful creature already living off of coffee and desperation, I thought hell, what else do I have to lose? So it’s a thing now.

“The Price of Promise”!Verse: The first time Lan Qiren saw the woman who would one day be his zhang’sao, the woman who he would proceed to hate and blame for more than half his life, he was just sixteen years old. And she - she was just an assassin dressed in black, perched atop the shingles in Cloud Recesses, on a dark moonless night.

Characters: Qiu Baiti (Madam Lan), Lan Cenrong (Qingheng-jun), Lan Qiren, Zhao Zhuliu (Wen Zhuliu).  

Foreword:

The story, as Lan Xichen knew it, came from an account of this:

“Lan Cenrong, do not force my hand. If you take another step, you will meet the same fate.”

Lan Yueling was there when they finally found Elder Lan Yang, lying crumbled there in the dense wooded valley outside of Gusu.

Lan Yueling was the first on scene, and this was what she saw: the rogue cultivator known as Qiu Baiti stood over Elder Lan Yang’s body, their sect master Lan Cenrong’s sword in her hand, its point at his throat.

Other disciples arrived, one after another, juniors and seniors alike. They froze, gasped, and collectively became witnesses as Qiu Baiti swung Kunlong through the air and pierced Lan Yang with a single, lethal stroke.

The blood that coated Kunlong’s gleaming steel dripped black and thick into the earth.

The witnesses screamed, drawing their weapons and lurching forward, but one gesture from the rogue cultivator had them all flying backwards, like paper dolls caught in the easterly wind. Only Lan Cenrong stood his ground.

You murderess. The disciples cried. You murdered Elder Lan Yang!

Apparently the old man was beloved. Hm. 

Qiu Baiti did not deny their accusations, but Lan Yueling, having gotten there first, was pretty sure Lan Yang had already been dead before they arrived.

Sect Master disarmed Qiu Baiti. Or more truthfully, she allowed herself to be disarmed, choosing to offer no resistance. Sword in one hand, Lan Cenrong took a step closer, his arm coming up to wrap around her waist. That, she allowed too.

Concussed from being thrown back so forcefully,  Lan Yueling struggled to lift her head, but even so, she managed to catch the last sight of Lan Cenrong and that woman before they disappeared in a scatter of pale blue light. There were tear tracks on both their faces, but for what, she could not know. Frankly, she did not want to know.

If Elder Lan Yang were not slain by Qiu Baiti, then....then... The alternate was too frightening to think about.

Soon, Cloud Recesses learned of the murder. Lan Yang’s body corpse was retrieved and honoured, and Qiu Baiti’s guilt was deemed irrevocable. For a week there was no news and they all feared the worst, until on the eighth morning, Lan Cenrong returned with the murderess of his en-shi, who was by then, his wife.

-- The story, as Wen Zhuliu knew it, started much earlier.

Some twenty five years before Lan Yang met his end in that forest, he went on a three-year long journey away from his home in Gusu to cultivate somewhere far and removed from the secular and the distracting. In the mountains of the south, he met a kindred spirit named Guo Lei, a cultivator like himself, but sectless, wild and free.

What happened between them...no one knows, but it had left Guo Lei wasted, decrepit, and bitter until his last days.

That was the man Wen Zhuliu remembered. Neither he nor his da’shijie Qiu Baiti ever knew the bright young man who had invited a rain-soaked Lan Yang into his humble abode in the mountains. The man who had taken them in, raised them, fed them and trained them, the man who they had loved as dearly as a father, was post-Lan. This was a man betrayed, who had the worst happen to him, and had no more forgiveness left to offer the world.

Wen Zhuliu’s da’shijie melted her first core when she was just eleven years old. Shifu had been so proud. He padded her on the head and treated them both to a lamb leg roasted on the open fire. Zhuliu and his sister fell sleep that night under the open stars. Shifu brought them inside to be warmly tucked in, carried them on his back despite his bad leg.

Back then Wen Zhuliu was just Zhao Ming, just xiao-Ming. xiao-Ming was small for a five year old, his golden core barely taking form inside him. Shifu had found him when he was very young, and he did not remember a life before shifu, before shijie.

Those were happy days.

Eventually, xiao-Ming grew up. On his tenth birthday, shifu named him Zhao Zhuliu, and then within a month, shifu died.

They, Guo Lei’s only disciples and only family, buried their shifu behind the house where once he hosted Lan Yang. Shijie dressed them both in hemp mourning robes, and taught him to give his four bows of goodbye before Heaven and Earth. On that hot summer afternoon, they burned stacks upon stacks of joss paper, and when the papers turned to ash, shijie wiped away his tears, took his hand, and led him - led them - onto their path of revenge.

Shifu didn’t leave them much; he’d already given them everything he had. Now, it was their turn to give back, to fulfill the one wish that Guo Lei still had unrealized.

Tear-choked, shijie had knelt by their shifu’s death bed, holding his thin weathered hands in her own and swore upon her life. Lan Yang’s reckoning was coming and she would be the one to deliver it. This, she promised. 

If Zhao Zhuliu had known then that this was a mistake, that as youths they really didn’t know the world for what it was, that sometimes evil disguised itself as kindness and kindness appeared evil, he would have begged his sister to leave it all behind. Powerful as they were, they could’ve gone anywhere, done anything. But shijie was a filial disciple, a good daughter, and above all, she kept her words.

I promise, shifu, I promise that bastard Lan Yang will pay for everything he’s done.

Zhao Zhuliu hadn’t known, but it was a promise that would cost Qiu Baiti everything.

-

Or perhaps, the story could be told like this:

Qiu Baiti came to Cloud Recesses the same way that she left: silently, Bichen at her side, on a dark moonless night.

Lan Qiren remembered both nights well. He remembered the latter because one simply did not forget the sight of one’s beloved brother being utterly destroyed. Lan Cenrong had held his deceased wife in his arms and cried and cried and cried. But Lan Qiren remembered the former because of the terrifyingly embarrassing fashion Qiu Baiti had, within seconds of crossing swords with him, knocked him off the roof, sending him crashing into the shrubbery below, flat on his bottom. 

 Young Qiren had never been so humiliated, so enraged, and so impressed in his sixteen years of life.

He gave chase, across roof tops and watch towers, but the assassin donned in black was fast and agile and impossible to see in the dark. Very quickly, he lost all track of her. He realized then as he desperately searched the ground that he was near his brother’s quarters. A jolt of fear shot up his spine.

xiongzhang!

Panicked, he rushed to Lan Cenrong’s chamber and knocked harshly, mindless of the rules.  

The door cracked open ajar. His brother blinked sleepily at him. “Qiren? What’s wrong?”

“Xiongzhang, forgive the disturbance, but an intruder was spotted while I was patrolling. Are you well?”

“An intruder? In Cloud Recesses? How did he get through our wards?”

“That, I’m not sure, and...I’m not sure it’s a he. As the security officer, this is my oversight. I’m very sorry, xiongzhang. I will call for a thorough search immediately.”

“Ensure our disciples and Elders are safe. Qiren,” Cenrong placed a calming hand on his on his shoulder. “You could not have predicted this. Do not be so harsh on yourself; you’re still young.” 

Qiren smiled, comforted, and rushed off. Through just a half open door, he could not have known about the sharp point of Bichen pressing threateningly into the back of of Lan Cenrong’s neck this entire time. 

“Don’t. Move.” 

~~~

zhangsao 长嫂 - oldest sister in law.  en-shi  恩师 - esteemed/respected teacher 

Lan Yang - 蓝杨 Guo Lei - 郭磊 Lan Cenrong - 蓝岑嵘 Qiu Baiti - 丘百啼 Zhao Ming 赵明， xiao-Ming “little Ming”  *don’t @ me, I know Ming is literally the laziest name I could’ve come up with but I’m tired guys*

《kunlong》 坤隆 - name of Qingheng-jun’s sword  《bichen》 避尘 - Qiu Baiti’s sword, which she left to her son Lan Wangji  

Note: I had originally intended for this to be a background story to my Discordance verse, but then I thought... to hell with it, it works as a canon divergence on its own. I mean... it still is the back story of Lan parents in Discordance, the only thing that is changed is what happens to Wen Zhuliu. Without Wen Ruohan, Wen Zhuliu is alive in Discordance and we’ll get to see him there. Soon. >:) 

#cql #the untamed #gusu lan #qingheng jun #madam lan #wen zhuliu #lan qiren #cql ficlet #corie fics #discau #tpop