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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year

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Chapter 4: Symptoms

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Raining Hellfire: Season Four

Word Count: 2813 words

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, nosebleeds, visions, descriptions of vecna's curse

[A/N: well well well what do we have here? more angst? yes please]

Symptoms

“It was here. Right here.”

Max says, pointing her flashlight to the wall in front of her. The others look on in confusion but a cold chill runs down your spine, a faint ticking noise in the back of your mind as you stare. If you look hard enough, you could almost see an outline of…

“A grandfather clock?” Nancy questions and Max nods.

“It was so real.” Her voice breaks slightly and you move closer, allowing her to lean her shoulder against yours. “And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just… I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something.” Dustin adds, shaking his head, “Exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.”

“No.” You whisper quietly under your breath, tears threatening your eyes again.

“That’s not even the bad part.” Max turns around to face everyone, fear on her face.

She led you back to the office, showcasing the files you had found earlier.

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms. Kelley for help.” Max points to a page of notes, sighing before she began to list off symptoms they all shared.

With each one, your mind swarmed with a thousand memories, making your heart pound quicker.

“Uh, they were both having headaches.”

A searing pain flooded through your head, making you squeeze your eyes shut. Goosebumps trailed along your arms, up to your neck. A sickening chill shooting down your spine.

“And then… then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat.”

You wake up with a pounding heart, sweat soaking the bed. It had been a while since you had that dream.

“Then they started seeing things.”

Beads of water were scattered across your face as you stood in a dark room, vines covering the walls while white specs floated aimlessly in the air. Your breath was cold. And all you could do was stare at the dark figure that stood behind you.

“Bad things. From their past.”

You kept your focus on the figure in the pool now floating. The ceramic side to a once blue pool now covered in crimson red blood.

“These visions, they just… they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually…”

“Everyone you love, every person you drag down with you, will be taken from you” His eyes turn a milky white and you claw at his hand, “Stop fighting and obey”

“… everything ended.”

You rush to him, seeing the whites of his eyes staring to the sky, arms held out either side of him.

Then, they begin to snap.

“Vecna’s curse.” Robin says and you blink back into the room, hugging yourself tighter from where you stood out of view against the wall.

“Chrissy’s headache started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago.” Max states, before taking a breath. “I’ve been having them for five days.”

Your chest is about ready to burst with fear and anger.

“I don’t know how long I have. All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy…”

You slowly start shaking your head, as if it was all a bad dream. You didn’t want her to say it.

“… they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw that god damn clock, so… looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”

As she takes a shaky breath, you suddenly push away from the wall. Heads turn as you walk out of the room, trying your hardest not to make more of a scene than you already were. You just didn’t think breaking down in front of her would make Max any less scared for her future.

Once you walk into the hallway, you slump against the wall in defeat. It felt like tears wanted to escape, a genuine pain in your chest, but nothing came.

“Hey.”

You turn your head to see Steve gently closing the door behind him, muffled voices on the other side of the wood.

“You okay?”

You let out a breathy laugh, shuffling so your back was pressed against the wall. “Oh, yeah. I’m having the time of my life.”

He leans next to you, eyes never not looking at your face. “She’s gonna be okay. We’re going to make sure she’s okay.”

“24 hours.” You shake your head, “We have 24 hours to kill Vecna. It just… it doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“The symptoms.” You lean on your arm, facing him. “The fact that it only takes six days.”

“This Vecna guy obviously wants the job done quick.” Steve frowns.

“What if you’ve had them longer than six days?” You ask and his breath hitches.

“Are you telling me you’ve been cursed?” His voice raises in fear, “Because if you are then we need to-”

“No!” You lie, placing a hand on his shoulder as you shake your head, “No, I- I was just wondering.”

“Good.” He breathes, looking into your eyes, “I’m not losing you too.”

A sudden noise echoed down the hallway, catching your attention. The others hear it too, cautiously filing out of the office and exchanging looks.

Steve quickly runs back into the office, only to return with a lamp and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh.

“Stay behind me.” He whispers to you, creeping closer to where the noises start to echo louder.

Footsteps begin to approach rapidly and you hold your breath. Steve raised the lamp in his hands, ready to swing.

Suddenly, Lucas turns the corner and you all scream, Steve only just stopping himself from using his weapon.

“It’s me!” Lucas yells in shock, both hands held out.

“Lucas?” You say in surprise, stepping forward.

“It’s me.” Lucas sighs, finally looking at you. “Y/n?”

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you Sinclair?!” Steve yells at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!” Steve stresses.

“Okay, okay, let’s calm down.” You say, reaching out and pushing the lamp down so Steve dropped it.

“Sorry, guys, sorry.” Lucas pants, taking a breath, “I was… I was biking for eight miles. Give me a second. Shit.”

He holds out his finger as if to ask for a moment and he looks to you.

“Hey, Y/n… welcome… back.” He says between breaths and you smile.

“Hey, Luke.” You rest your hand on his back, “You good?”

“No.” He shakes his head after pulling you to a quick hug, “We’ve got a code red.”

“What?” Steve shakes his head and you widen your eyes.

“Dustin.” Lucas crosses the space to the boys, panting. “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone, like, totally off the rails.”

“How?” You step closer and he shifts his eyes between you both before settling on yours.

“They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you both know where he is. You’re in terrible danger.”

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow. “I literally just got here.”

“The guy who saw you. He must have told Jason. Shit.” Dustin notes and you purse your lips.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lucas questions, exasperated. “How could you forget someone threatening you like that?!”

“I’ve been a little busy with mind wizards on a murder spree!” You retaliate and Steve places a hand on your shoulder.

“All right. Lucas.” Dustin nods slowly, “Yeah, that definitely sucks, but we’ve got bigger problems than Jason right now.”

When Dustin turns to Max, Lucas physically stills.

You suddenly hear an echo in the back of your mind, something you can’t quite make out until it stops.

Clock chimes.

You all end up in the Wheeler basement, you and Nancy convincing Karen that it was for a celebration of your return to Hawkins.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” Karen had said, hugging you so tightly you barely breathed.

You wish you could feel that great about your return.

“Okay, be honest.” Steve sighs, pacing the room with a paper in his hands, “Uh… you guys understand any of this?”

He looks down at you, Lucas and Dustin, sitting side by side on the couch with you in the middle.

“No.” Lucas shakes his head.

“Yep.” You reply at the same time and you exchange looks.

“I’m glad we have you back.” He breathes out a sigh of relief and you nudge his shoulder.

“Pretty straightforward.” Dustin replies to Steve’s question, nodding at you.

“Oh, straightforward, really?” Steve mocks, glancing between you, “One of you wanna explain this, then?”

“What’s confusing you?” Dustin questions.

Steve simply gestures to the whole of the paper.

“Well-” Dustin begins before catching your eye, “Actually, Y/n can take this one.”

“Why?” You ask.

“I missed your genius.” He simply says and you smile.

“Okay, so,” You lean forward, staring up at Steve, “So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found.”

“He’s the only known survivor.” Dustin adds and you nod, pointing to him.

“Which means,” You continue with a hopeful glint in your eye, “If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.”

“That’s assuming he was cursed, which we don’t even know.” Steve counters and you sigh.

“It’s worth a shot.” You say quietly, glancing behind him to Max currently at a desk, writing away.

“How can Vecna have existed in the ‘50s? It doesn’t make sense.” Steve mutters and you lean back in your seat.

“Far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down.” Dustin theorised, “She opened the gate to it.”

“So, the Upside Down could have been around for thousands of years?” You question.

“Millions.” Dustin straightened in his seat, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs?” Steve looked at him in disbelief, “What are we-”

“Okay, okay.” Lucas interrupts, “But if the gate didn’t exist in the ‘50s, how did Vecna get through?”

“Oh, and how’s he getting through now?” Steve adds.

“And why now?”

“And why then?” Steve paces again, “Just pops out in the ‘50s, kills one family, and he’s like ‘I’m good’ and poof, he just disappears. Just.. gone? Only to return thirty years later and start killing some random teens? No, I don’t buy it.”

“My head hurts.” You sigh, rubbing away the migraine forming in your mind. At this point, you had no idea if it was anything to do with the curse or just stress. “What if…”

Lucas and Dustin look at you as Steve mutters under his breath, staring back down at the paper.

“No, it’s stupid.” You shake your head.

“Nothing’s stupid at this point.” Lucas says and you sigh again.

“This Vecna guy… we don’t know how old he is, you know? What if… what if he’s always been in the Upside Down. Or, maybe, he was able to do his curse on the surface?”

“That still doesn’t explain how he ended up in the Upside Down in the first place.” Dustin slumps in his seat.

“Or why he’s doing any of this.” Lucas whispers, and you know exactly who he’s looking at.

Steve falls into an armchair opposite you with a sigh.

“Any idea what she’s writing?” Dustin suddenly asks and your breath hitches in your throat.

You knew exactly what she was writing.

Max used to keep a diary when she was young, any time she needed to blurt out her feelings freely would cause her to put pen to paper. She used to give you those letters instead of talking to you sometimes. Especially when Susan and Sam first started fighting. You and her were alike that way. You both struggled with saying things out loud for the fear that it would make things too real. And letters were a way to ensure those feelings would be heard, even if we never get the chance to say them.

“Did she sleep?”

“I mean,” Lucas frowned, “Would you?”

You look down at your hands, taking a deep breath. When you look up, Steve’s eyes are on yours, a worried frown dancing on his eyebrows. You simply smile before the basement door opens, Robin and Nancy descending the stairs.

“Okay, so…” Nancy looks at Robin who gives her a nod, “We have a plan.”

Robin threw two files onto the table with a smirk, Steve and Dustin immediately grabbing them. You stood, walking over to stand behind Steve and peer over his shoulder and Lucas shuffled towards Dustin for a better view of the documents.

“Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame.” Robin explains and you smile, impressed at the handiwork.

“These look pretty good.” You nod and Nancy smiles.

“I’m now Ruth.” Nancy announces.

“And I’m Rose.” Robin bows.

“Ruth?” Steve raises an eyebrow at Nancy who just smirks at him. The twinge in your stomach fades when you meet Nancy’s eye, smiling with her.

“Nice GPA.” Dustin comments.

“Thanks.” Nancy glances around the group, “So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics-”

“To which they said no.” Robin reminds her.

“But,” Nancy continues, “We landed a three o’clock with the director.”

“Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor.”

“Well, you are both very charming.” You nod and Robin winks at you.

“Then maybe we can rid Max of this curse.” Nancy says quietly and you slowly step away from the group, hugging your torso.

“Yeah, about that.” Steve glances behind him before leaning forward, “We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework and, uh… we got some questions.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas stresses.

“So do we. Hopefully, Victor has the answers.” Nancy sighs.

“If anyone can get answers, it’s you.” You interject, turning back around, “And Robin has a way of confusing people enough to get them to spill their secrets.”

Robin holds her hand to her heart. “You know me so well.”

You laugh before a strike of pain looms in the back of your mind. The others were busy shuffling through papers enough to allow you to turn and face the wall.

Your hand reached up to swipe below your nostril, blood marking your skin.

“Shit.” You breathe quietly, wiping it away on your jeans and turning back to the conversation. The symptoms were becoming more frequent.

“Where’s mine?” Steve asks and the girls exchange looks.

“It doesn’t… exist.” Robin says simply before nodding at Nancy. “We should probably get ready to go.”

They quickly stand and make their way up the stairs, disappearing as Steve is still sat in his chair, frowning.

“They’ll be…” You begin before Steve springs from the seat and bounds up the basement stairs, leaving you staring at an empty chair. “...fine.”

“You okay?” Dustin looks at you and you slowly nod.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” Lucas looks concerned now, leaning forward. “I mean… Max…”

“I’m not letting anything happen to her.” You say with determination, walking up the stairs with the intent to drag Steve away from pestering the girls and their plan.

But once you close the door behind you, there’s a shooting pain down your spine and you stumble to the hallway, breathing heavily.

You close your eyes, willing the pain to stop.

Opening them again was a mistake.

“Do you hear it?”

You stumble backwards, the one you can only assume as Vecna stood directly in front of you.

“Listen” He demands and you continue to step backwards, one foot at a time.

But, sure enough, you listened. Clock chimes. They only rang four times.

“Four chimes?” You shake your head and he tilts his head at you.

“Four chimes”

You keep backing away until your back hits something heavy. Spinning around, you’re met with a grandfather clock and your breath is caught in your throat. You stare up at the clock face, noticing the two cracks on the glass.

“What happens after four?” You question shakily, reluctantly turning around.

Vecna stands close enough for you to feel his breath and you stifle a scream.

“Your end”

You gasp, opening your eyes to find yourself laying on the floor with a pounding heart.

As you slowly sit up, breathing erratically, you feel more blood dripping from your nose and you panic, wiping it away.

You don’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“Y/n?” Steve looks down at you, immediately crouching to your side when he sees the panicked look on your face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, stumbling to your feet and he holds your arm, “Nothing happened. I’m-”

“What the…” He mutters under his breath as he raises your arm, the sleeve stained with blood, and he stares directly into your eyes. “Did you…”

You squeeze your eyes shut when he lowers your arm gently, stepping closer.

“I know who the figure in my nightmares is.” You simply say and his face drops when he realises.

“Shit.”

Chapter 5: Guilt Consumes You ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs/ @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit/ @f1nn-wolfhard/ @hereiamhereigo/ @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley/ @mothmanatemycat

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hoffstrap-yuri · 2 months

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In My Head, In My Heart

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Petra Strahm had come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian after Husband #2, but never did she think she'd swing so hard for a pregnant woman.

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Fem Hoffstrahm, Fem Coffinshipping, Yuri Coffinshipping, Yuri Hoffstrahm, WLW Coffinshipping, WLW Hoffstrahm, Petra Strahm (Fem Strahm), Maureen Hoffman (Fem Hoffman), Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnancy Sex

*Status: First Fic in Series/Completed (Second Fic Here)

Author's Note: Basically the thought of pregnant Fem Hoffman made me pass out with a nosebleed and when I woke up, this had created itself. But in all honesty I've poured at least 24 hours into this thing because I was like "I gotta write before my muse leaves my mind" so enjoy this fic!

I've got more fem Hoffstrahm coming, but this was just something I had started before taking requests so have this to tide yourselves over

Holy Shit.Petra had stopped a few steps short of the bottom of the staircase leading to the murder scene of their confidant, Alison Kerry. Sure she expected gore, maybe a head that flew off to one corner of the room…. But she hadn’t expected to see a heavily pregnant woman working the scene. She was going to launch into her ‘Open the Door and You Will Find Me’ spiel she had been mentally preparing while still in Perez’s car, ready to call out the city’s police department for its incompetence at handling a serial killer of this infamy. She decided better of herself and quietly hid behind her partner as she did the introductions. “Detective Hoffman, I’m Special Agent Lindsay Perez of the FBI. This is my partner, Special Agent Petra Strahm.” “Pleasure.” The detective leaned forward a bit, putting a strain on her dress shirt’s buttons and held out a hand for the two agents. Petra reached out first, surprised by the heavy grip the other woman hand. She pulled her hand back and behind Lindsay’s back massaged her hand. “How can I help the FBI?” “‘Open the door and you will find me’, does that mean anything to you, Detective?” Petra replied, the edge coming back to her words as she tried not to look at Hoffman’s giant baby bump square in the center of her plush body. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t understand your cryptic bullshit.” Hoffman scoffed at her, “Pregnancy brain leaves me so confused these days.” “Pregnancy brain, my ass.” Another officer under Hoffman’s command muttered under his breath. Hoffman’s heel just so happened to ‘hover’ over the top of his foot before pressing down; making the detective curse loudly before scurrying off to the opposite side of the scene. Hoffman covered her mouth behind her hand as she let out a reserved laugh. “Anyway, no. That means absolutely nothing to me, Agent.” She finally replied to the special agent’s inquiry from a moment passed. Strahm made some kind of grunting noise as she examined Kerry’s body. Hoffman pulled out a legal pad where she kept notes and flipped through them, hoping to provide some kind of information to the agents. “There must be another apprentice.” Petra stated “You’re sure that this isn’t the work of John…” “John Kramer was a bed-ridden cancer patient. Absolutely not.” Strahm countered “It could’ve been Amanda Young. Used a pulley system…” Hoffman offered once again “There’s no way. Amanda’s arrest record puts her weight at 107, and Detective Kerry was 130…” “Special Agent.” Hoffman batted her eyelashes at the other woman, “If you’re here for any other reason than just to assist, I suggest you back the fuck off.” “Wouldn’t want to miss anything your pregnancy brain let slip.” Petra bit back and walked through the crime scene. She heard Lindsay sigh behind her, probably shooting Hoffman an ‘I’m sorry about her’ look before following behind the older woman. After looking over everything, and some of the lower detectives shuffling back to the precinct, Hoffman approached the two agents. “You’re welcome to set up in the conference room back at my station.” One hand rested on her back for support, while the other rested over the crest of her bump. “Thanks, we could use a cup of coffee.” Lindsay cracked a smile at the matronly detective “You’re welcome. I’ll see you two later. I have another fire to put out.” She replied, turning on her heels before walking up the stairs. Lindsay craned her head up, making sure that Hoffman was out of earshot before nudging her partner with her elbow. “What?” Strahm asked, before being nudged again, “What?!” “I saw you staring at her.” “I was not.” Strahm rolled her eyes “Were too. She’s exactly your type.” “Bullshit.” “I’ve seen your ex-husband.” Lindsay retorted, “Only Maureen's got more curves.” “Why don’t you take the car to the precinct, and shut the fuck up.”

“Damn.” Lindsay laughed, “I’ll go at least get the car started. Might want to cool down a little before you get in the car.” “Fine.” Strahm huffed a little bit, taking another walk through of the crime scene before deciding she was calm enough to face Lindsay’s badgering about her attraction towards Maureen Hoffman. Though there really wasn’t anything there. She hopped into the car and sat silently across from Perez as they drove to the police station together. The officer that Hoffman had stepped on came out to lead them to the conference room, showing them where the coffee machine was on the way in before the two pulled out their briefcases. Lindsay sat on the edge of the table as Strahm flipped through the manila file folders she crammed inside the case. “Do you think we should tell Maureen?” “No Linds.” Strahm replied, not taking even a second to look up at her partner, “We don’t know what they know and the evidence is stacking up that it’s someone on the inside helping the Jigsaw Killer.”

“I know, it’s just the tape said that there’s two police that’ll be the next victims and it might be better…” She started to explain. The whole atmosphere seemingly shifted as the doorway creaked slightly under the weight of the pregnant detective leaning against the frame. Petra looked her up and down with a level of disgust that she couldn’t even pretend to conceal. “Hope this is comfortable for the two of you.” Maureen said, walking across the room and taking a seat across from Strahm, “Certainly better than sitting in the bullpen.” “It’ll be fine.” Lindsay assured the other woman. Maureen pushed her chair back slightly to cross her leg over her lap, showing that she had switched to flats after coming back from the scene. “If you don’t mind my asking, how far are you along?” “Oh.” Maureen smiled in a manner that made Petra wanted to gag. So saccharine sweet, and for what? “I’m in my third trimester.” “Oh, then you’re due anytime now.” “I still have a couple of weeks before the due date, but yes.” Petra scoffed a little before saying something completely lacking any kind of tact, “Shouldn’t you be out on maternity leave, then?” Without hesitation and after looking at the simple silver band on her ring finger, Maureen shot back, “Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” Lindsay had to stifle her laughter and Petra shot her partner a look of ‘you were supposed to be on my side on this one’. “I’m divorced for your information.” “Congratulations. Your ex must be a lucky man.” “Not nearly as lucky as I am to be rid of him.” Petra responded. “Either of you want coffee?” Lindsay got up and made a dash for the door before either of the other women could answer her. It was a courtesy more than anything, but she needed an excuse to get out from there. “I’d better go.” Hoffman grabbed the teddy bear she had in her arms previously when she walked into the conference room “What do you want from me, detective?” “What?”

“I said ‘what do you want from me’? Don’t tell me you were just walking in here to check on Lindsay and I. God knows you could have sent one of your lackeys to do that while you were resting in your office.” Hoffman scoffed back, “I’m not some delicate flower despite being with child. I can still flip a man over my shoulder… even though my OB/GYN has advised against it.” She got up from her seat and leaned into Strahm’s space when she heard the agent utter something under her breath. “I didn’t quite hear that, Agent, mind saying it a bit louder for me?” “It’s none of your damn business.” Strahm growled underneath the other woman. She looked over her shoulder for an opening, but Maureen was all up in her business. Maureen pulled Strahm’s chair back and placed her hands firmly on the arms of the chair, forcing the FBI agent to shrink herself further into herself. “I said, repeat yourself, Agent Strahm.” She said in a low voice. Petra was surprised she hadn’t miraculously turned into a pile of goop in front of the heavy woman before her. Barely louder than a whisper, she replied: “Hot.” “Louder.” “I thought it was hot.” Strahm kept her eyes moving, anything so as not to stare blankly at Hoffman’s chest. “What was?” “The idea of you throwing a man over your shoulder, in your state. A big bulky girl like you…” Strahm could feel a nosebleed starting and “You’re right, it is hot. And I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.” The hot air from her mouth sliding across the skin of Petra’s neck. Petra shivered in her seat, forcing her hands to dig into the fabric of the arm of the chair as she tried to keep herself calm and even-headed. Maureen lifted her tempting chest away from Petra with a mischievous little smile on her face. Strahm tucked her legs one underneath the other around the bottom of the chair and locked her knees. Maureen’s hands worked their way to her back and massaged herself as she stood upright. “That was a lot to make me go through, in my condition.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a fucking flower.” Strahm spit back “I’m not, but you’d better make up for this. You free tonight?” “Do I have a choice?” “You always have a choice, Agent. Make it.” “Yeah, I’m free.” Strahm switched the order of her legs to keep from fidgeting with her fingers “Good. I’ll drive you to my place tonight.” Maureen turned on the back of her heels out of the room and walked towards her office. Strahm sat still in her chair for a moment before realizing she needed to be looking at something before Lindsay came back with coffee. She unhooked her leg, and reached for the briefcase before realizing what a number Hoffman did to her. She brushed up against Lindsay as she returned with a drink for the both of them and Strahm made a beeline to the bathroom. --- “Is Nancy Drew still here?” Maureen entered Strahm’s office space, her jacket slung over her shoulder like she was a mob boss. Without the stupid garment, Strahm got a generous view of the suspenders that were probably functionally useless as the wide woman grew from her pregnancy. “Don’t call Perez that, she’s a damn good agent.” Strahm snapped back “Touched a nerve, did I?” Maureen smirked. “I’m done for the day, if you want to hurry it up and join me.” “I’m almost done.” Strahm flipped through her laptop and checked her emails one last time. Maureen’s foot hit the floor with a slight patter as she waited for the other woman to tie up her loose ends for the day. “It can’t take you that long to be ‘almost’ done.” Hoffman glared at her “What, you got a hot date with the baby daddy after you’re done screwing me for the night?” Strahm retorted

“You’re keeping me from what I want, Agent. And I always get what I want, when I want it.” Maureen bared her teeth, placing her palms flat on either side of the laptop. Strahm didn’t bother logging off the device, only shut the cover and grabbed her briefcase from below her. “Good. About time.” “Shut it.” Strahm replied as she fixed the collar of her dress shirt. Hoffman lead the agent to her car and slammed the door on Strahm’s side once she slid into the passenger’s seat. She buckled herself in, making a show of the way the material had to stretch around her stomach. “Gonna need a fucking extender if that bump grows anymore.” “You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” Maureen smiled down at her baby bump as she teased Strahm. Strahm crossed her legs in the other seat before saying, “Just drive us to your place.” She covered her beet red face the best she could behind the palm of her hand. Hoffman reached an arm around the back of Strahm’s head rest as she put the vehicle into reverse, pulling out of the station before driving around town. She turned the radio on when they were stopped at a particularly long red light and hummed along to some pop song. Strahm couldn’t help herself from looking at the way her lips curved as her mouth made ‘oohs’ and ‘you’s, the velvet lipstick accentuating her ‘ahhs’ as her hums turned to singing. Strahm pursed her lips as she watched, leaning in closer to the siren’s call from Hoffman. As she was about to kiss Hoffman’s cheek, Hoffman stopped the car. It jerked Strahm a bit forward and she stayed in her seat until Hoffman came around the other side of the car to get the door for her. She followed behind the detective once more as the woman rummaged through her purse to find her house keys. On a separate clip from her car keys, she pulled the keys from her bag and unlocked the door.

“Make yourself comfortable, Agent.” She slipped her flats off by the door and dropped her things across the living room as she made a line straight for the kitchen. Strahm sat in the armchair closest to the door, leaving her jacket on top of Maureen’s. She rested her head against her fists and spread her legs as far as they would go comfortably in the leather chair. Her leg started bouncing underneath her, and rather than try to force it down she just let it go until the urge to vibrate died on its own. Maureen came back with two plates of food, one with a slightly bigger portion that she put in front of her spot on the couch and put the other before Petra. While it was a friendly gesture, Maureen told Petra “Eat.” in a tone that sounded more like a command. Petra nodded and picked over the broccoli with her fork, going for the salmon piece at the center of her plate. She went back to the vegetables when it was clear that Maureen was watching her and begrudgingly ate the damn broccoli even though it was actually cooked fine. Almost as if to reward Strahm, Maureen took the straining buttons on her dress shirt and popped them open, showing off her ample chest. Strahm tucked her legs closer together and shoveled the rest of her food into her mouth before she said something even more stupid than before. With a heavy sigh, Maureen loosened her updo and let the almost raven brown hair fall onto her shoulders like a waterfall. Strahm’s hair was messy, full of split ends… what she wouldn’t give to run her fingers through the soft locks. Her heart was practically projecting through the whole house, or so it seemed to her. She felt her pulse pounding in her wrist as her hand wearily reached up to her own hair and ran her fingers through it to ‘fix’ it. “Come here.” Maureen was tired of the cat and mouse game the other woman was playing with her. Strahm felt her words pull her from her spot and before her at the couch. She didn’t think she was that desperate a woman until Hoffman’s hand wrapped around her shoulder and gently guided her down to the floor, resting on her knees before the pregnant woman. “The things I could do to you, Agent.” “Like what?” Strahm asked. Hoffman tisked, realizing that despite all her gruff and loud barks she really didn’t have any bite. “Let’s start off easy on you. God knows it already looks like you’re going to pass out from just looking at me.” She pulled her back up so that Strahm could sit behind her on the couch. She leaned back into Strahm and draped her hair over the other woman’s shoulders. Strahm carefully pressed her lips onto the crown of Hoffman’s head, who responded in kind with a satisfied purr. Her hands hovered over the space of the detective before resting them against Hoffman’s back. “Good girl, keep going”. Strahm hands slid down Hoffman’s back before resting in the space just above her ass, kneading into the tense muscles as Maureen lifted her feet up from off the floor. Strahm jammed her knuckles slowly into the soft fat that sat on the woman’s hips and worked her joints deeper into Maureen’s muscle. She carefully snaked a hand around the front of Maureen’s body and rested it under the baby bump before tracing a finger over the stretch marks that were created from Maureen’s gift of life. Maureen’s eyes were shut tight as Strahm spoiled her but every once in a while Strahm would extract a mewl from the mother to-be that was like music to her ears. Her hand slunk its way back to just under Hoffman’s shoulder blades and worked out the tension from the center of her back. “You’re such a good girl when you have something you want dangling in front of you… almost like a dog.”

“You’re a dog,” Strahm bit back, “A bitch even.” “That’s not very nice.” Hoffman didn’t even open her eyes as she gently scolded Petra. “I might look like a bitch in heat, but that doesn’t mean just anyone can say it. If you were my subordinate, I’d give you paperwork duty for a month for saying that.” “Spare me.” Strahm rolled her eyes “And you’ve been behaving so well up until now. Did I hit a sore spot, Agent?” She feigned naivety. “Do you want to breed me, huh?” “I…” Strahm started to stammer “Oh, dear.” Maureen opened her eyes and pursed her lips, “Darling, has that been your goal this whole time?” “I-No I mean…” “Why didn’t you just say so?” She guided Strahm’s hand in between her legs and pressed her thighs together, “Follow my instructions carefully.” “And then what?” “Then you’ll get what you came here for.” “Fine.” Strahm looked away from the woman “Go upstairs. My room is the first room on the right next to the stairs. On the opposite side of the door is my bed and next to that is my vanity. In my drawers get out…” “Okay, I get it.” Strahm walked off and went to find Hoffman’s room. She lugged herself up the stairs and went into the bedroom. The bed was made up perfectly and Strahm found herself gravitating to the silk sheets, sitting down on the over-sized mattress for one woman. She ran a hand over the comforter before getting back up and pilfering through Hoffman’s drawers. Without a doubt the toy that Hoffman wanted was there, and Strahm brought it back down to the detective. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dildo before, love.” Hoffman uncrossed her legs as Strahm approached her with the toy in hand. “It’s just so… pink.” Strahm looked at it for a moment before sitting down next to Hoffman. Hoffman leaned into her partner and covered her lips in kisses of varying lengths. The first couple were like a puppy lapping at Strahm’s face before Maureen’s teeth came down and tugged on the inside of her lips. Strahm dropped the toy onto the couch as she let out a moan. She pulled away for a second to throw the thing onto the coffee table before going back to making out with the woman in front of her. She wrapped her arms around Maureen, grabbing at her ass while their kisses turned into sloppy mashes rather than something coherent. “I need you.”

“Then take me.” Maureen purred into Strahm’s ear, backing off her slowly. Strahm swallowed back the fear sitting in her throat and tugged at the hem of Hoffman’s maternity pants. Even her underwear was stupid sexy… or at least stupid sexy to a woman in a very long dry spell. Maureen seemed aware that Strahm was distracted by something, so helped the other woman slide everything off her thick hips, past her generous thighs and onto the floor. Petra worked the buttons open off Hoffman’s shirt as her lips connected back to Maureen’s neck. Without looking up, she unhooked the back of Hoffman’s bra. The fat spilled out from the garment and Petra moved her mouth further south, sucking on the skin. Hoffman wrapped her fingers through Strahm’s hair and forced her head down further so that Petra would suck on her nipple. They both moaned as Strahm licked at the overly tender skin. “Oh, honey.” “Honey?” Strahm pulled her mouth away, eliciting a whine from Hoffman. Her hand slid under Hoffman’s tit and massaged her. “Yes, honey. Do I need to say it again?” “Eh, one more time can’t hurt.” Strahm shrugged, resulting in the most deadpan stare from Maureen. Strahm nervously hovered over the other woman for a second after the gaff before undoing her shirt and showing Hoffman a little more. “So pretty.” Hoffman leaned back into her, “I could devour you.” “I’d like to see you try.” “There’s my confident girl again.” Hoffman titled Strahm’s head up by her chin, “Now. Make me yours, love.” “Fine. Fine. How do you want to do this?” Strahm grabbed the toy and coated it generously in lube. Hoffman got onto her knees and leaned forward with her ass sticking up in Strahm’s face, “Guess you didn’t need to think much about that.” “No. Just been thinking about it all day since I saw you at the crime scene this morning.” Hoffman shot back at her. Before she knew it, she felt Petra slid the toy into her slowly. Hoffman bucked her hips up into Strahm’s hand, taking the agent by surprise. She wrapped her free hand around the inside of Hoffman’s thigh before slowly thrusting the dildo into her partner. Hoffman’s fist pulled on the fabric of the couch cushions underneath her as she backed up into Strahm once more. “I lied earlier.” Strahm said, adjusting herself so she could be over Hoffman completely. “You’re not a bitch in heat.” “Yeah?” Hoffman bit down on her own lip, “What am I then?” “You’re a fucking heifer.” Strahm’s words curled over the edge of Hoffman’s ear and sat in her mind for a moment. “Everything about you is fucking gigantic. Your chest… your stomach… On your knees like this you look just like a fucking cow. How much bigger are you going to get before you deliver your calf, huh?” “F-Fuck…” Hoffman stuttered as she kept riding on the toy in Petra’s hand. Petra’s hand moved from in between Hoffman’s thigh and up her stomach, stopping for a moment over the baby bump. After running her hands over it in a circular motion, she clutched one of Maureen’s boobs in the palm of her hand. She gave it a light squeeze and Maureen shoved her head into the fabric of the couch, suppressing her moan. Her legs shook ever so slightly and Strahm pulled the toy out before tossing it to the side and pressing two fingers onto Hoffman’s wet clit. She rubbed at the muscle for a couple of seconds before Hoffman’s legs gave out from under her. Her whole body twitched as she came with the help of Strahm. She balled up her fists and hit the couch until she was satisfied. She would’ve happily fallen asleep face first in the fabric were it not for Strahm’s help in repositioning her onto her back. She took Strahm’s hand and placed it in the space between her boobs, just over her heart. She looked up at her with eyes that asked for more from the other woman as her hair splayed across the pillow like raindrops ebbing along glass. Strahm leaned into Hoffman and pressed her lips onto her cheek, trailing her hand up just a little higher to rest just below where Maureen’s neck started.

Hoffman scooched over to allow for some room at her side, patting the space. Strahm laid on her side and wrapped an arm over Hoffman’s center, curling around the space heater of a woman. Hoffman pulled a blanket over Strahm and ran the back of her hand over Petra’s cheek. “Sleepy?” She asked “Yeah. Just a little.” Strahm replied, stretching out a little under the blanket. Maureen kissed her forehead and Petra returned it with her lips on Maureen’s. Maureen looked down at herself with a subtle smile before saying, “I’ve never been this happy with someone… You just feel right with me, Agent.” “Petra.” Strahm corrected her, “I think we’re past the point of titles.” “Alright, Petra…” Hoffman used her name cautiously, expecting some kind of scoff or a pull back from the FBI agent. “Like I said… something about you and I feels right. Don’t you agree?” “Yeah.” Strahm replied stoically, “I’ve never been with a woman…” Her thought trailed off “A woman like me?” Hoffman tried finishing it for her “No…” Strahm bit the inside of her cheek “Oh.” Maureen’s lip curled at the ends and she wrapped her arms carefully around Strahm. A hand rested on Strahm’s neck, nearly covering every inch. Strahm shivered slightly at the sheer size of the other woman’s hand, and Hoffman smiled back at her. It was a bit more devious this time, but Strahm couldn’t put her finger on why. “You’d look beautiful in a white dress.”

“I…” Strahm’s brain proceeded to force restart over and over as she thought about what Maureen had just said. “We could probably get hitched in Atlantic City, if we’re feeling real crazy.�� She said it to diffuse any tension that was there between them, but did almost fear that Maureen would take her up on her offer. Not that she’d mind. Maureen Strahm had a nice ring to it after all. Her face must’ve been bright red because Maureen took her hand off the small of her neck and moved it to the center of her back instead. “I’d rather we go somewhere nicer.” Hoffman ran her other hand along the front of Strahm’s chest. “Plus we could take the babies with us.” “… Babies?” “Oh, you didn’t think I was this big for one baby did you, Agent?” Hoffman smirked “Yeah… I kind of thought you were.” “No. It’s twins.” Maureen kissed her “You’re lucky you’re so… hot.” Strahm fumbled with her words while she tried to wrap her head around the fact that she had gotten a girlfriend, and two children in a day. “I know, love.” Hoffman ran her fingers through Petra’s hair before telling her, “Sleep.” “Fine. Good night.” “Good night.” Maureen kept stroking the back of Strahm’s head until her partner was out. “You’ll be the perfect mother to my children… And I’ll have my happy little family.”

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theladycarpathia · 2 years

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Help me hold on to you

“Chrissy!” he shouts and cradles her frozen face in his hands. Her skin is cold underneath his fingers and if she weren’t still standing upright, he could almost believe that she was dead.

He had only half believed her in the woods.

“Okay, Chrissy, I definitely believe you now,” he says desperately, as the lights flickering on and off send the room into a creepy half light. His fingers dig into Chrissy’s shoulders so hard that it must be hurting her but she still doesn’t wake. “Okay, I’m really sorry if you felt that I was humoring you or anything but I was definitely wrong. I fully believe that you are in some deep shit and I will run through the next basketball game stark naked if you just wake up and look at me now!”

But she doesn’t and dread trickles down Eddie’s spine like someone’s unwanted, grasping fingers.

“Is something going on?” She starts, like she hadn’t expected the question and he has to wonder if anyone ever actually asks her that. Because she’s Chrissy Cunningham. Head Cheerleader. Beloved by all. Has no one ever asked her?

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s a good fake, well practiced. She must pull it out like a favorite pair of shoes, for her parents, her friends, her boyfriend. Maybe there’s something wrong with Eddie because it’s all too easy to see through it.

“Uh huh,” he says flatly and flips the lid on the lunchbox shut. “So you…just woke up with a sudden burning need for hard drugs one day?” He spreads his hands wide, palms open, clearly not buying it. “People don’t just do that. They need them, you see. To make life a little bit easier. A little bit fuzzier. To make it all just…go away.”

Chrissy fidgets, tugging the sleeves on her jacket further down over her hands. The expression from earlier is back, desperation written all over her face.

“Seriously,” Eddie says and she flicks up huge blue eyes to meet him, finally. He thinks that no one ever asked but now, more than ever, she needs someone to. “Are you okay?”

The headaches he could believe. The nightmares, the nosebleeds…and when she’d said that she was seeing things, he’d only half believed her. He might play D&D but none of it is real. Not the ghosts, the zombies, the demo-gorgons…it’s all a game. That’s all.

But she was terrified. It was all over her, in every flinch, every breath. Something was scaring her and when a spider scuttled over her hand in the van, he had to whisk it away and assure her that it was real. He could see it too.

He shouldn’t have doubted her. Because Chrissy Cunningham is haunted. Something has been haunting this girl, dipping into her nightmares at night and making her fear her every waking moment.

“Chrissy, please!” he shouts and taps his open palm against her face. Fuck, fuck, nothing is working.

She can’t hear him.

So…what else can she hear?

He nearly slips as he pelts back to his room and digs in the drawer. Tapes tumble out in his haste as he yanks his walk-man free and hopes that whatever is in it will do. He doesn’t know what Chrissy listens to, doesn’t even remember what song she'd used for her routine back in middle school. But he is out of options and out of time.

There is no time left at all, because when he gets back to the living room he finds that he no longer towers over her. Instead, her sneakered feet just about graze the ground, toes inches away from the tattered carpet. Bile rising in his throat, Eddie desperately unwinds the wires and does his best not to drop everything to the floor.

She doesn’t react when he forcefully jams the headphones onto her ears and she doesn’t react even as he jabs furiously at the buttons. The music is so loud that even he can hear the thumping bass line, so it must be absolutely deafening to her.

For a moment there’s nothing to show that it’s working. She hangs there, in midair, a ghost in a cheerleading uniform. It’s simultaneously the most terrifying and most ethereal thing he’s ever seen; eyes rolled white a stark contrast against the black halo of wires around her head and down her neck, the striped green of her skirt brushing her knees and the tendrils of soft red against her ears.

When she drops, it’s like her strings have all been cut. He tries to catch her, but isn’t quite prepared for it and they both fall to the floor.

“Chrissy! Chrissy! What the hell is happening?” Eddie asks, over her terrified sobs. They’re both tangled in the walk-man wires, Eddie’s legs bent uncomfortably under him, and a strand of her ponytail has wound itself around a button on his jacket. But she’s Chrissy again.

“He’s coming for me,” she whimpers, hot tears leaking into Eddie’s Hellfire club t-shirt.

“Who’s coming for you?” Eddie asks, bewildered. The lights have come back, flooding the room with a solid glow. It just looks like his trailer again, normal, unhaunted, save for the girl crumpled against his chest. He rests a hand on her brilliant hair, unable to believe that it worked. “Chrissy? I don’t understand. Chrissy, who’s coming for you? Who is he?”

XXX Not entirely wild about this scene? It was really really hard to spin an existing scene and if I dip further into this Edissy AU, I may change it entirely.

I wrote a post season 4 for the mini Harringrove week which can be found here. But it kind of took over - like what could save Chrissy? Max told her friends, which ultimately saved her in Dear Billy. If Chrissy had told someone would things be different?

#edissy #hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #season 4 au #luna's season 4 au #edissy lives au #harringrove lives au #still plotting #still thinking #I think I'll be living in this world for a while #THE POTENTIAL #power couple eddie and chrissy #future harringrove #the first of many #excerpt from a possible fic?

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justawfulxmenart · 1 year

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This is a "sneak peek" to my upcoming fic. In it, Scully's pregnancy symptoms make Mulder afraid that her cancer has come out of remission. I hope you enjoy…

Kinnikinnick Lake, Oregon, April 1, 2000

Hey, Scully! Supper's ready!" Mulder calls.

Scully heaves the ax to her shoulder. Perspiration stands out on her forehead. She feels that peculiar catch in her chest. She's been feeling it off and on for the past two weeks alongside sudden bouts of dizziness.

Anemia, was her knee-jerk prognosis. But the cause of it? Along with the nosebleed that woke her up three nights ago? It causes a pit of dread in her stomach.

But the petite redhead turns to put on a smile for her fiance. Mulder is waving to her from the door of their tiny cabin deep in the Oregon back-country. The blue Cascades are beautiful on this fresh Spring day. The air seems tangy and sharp with the first hint of the balmy weather to come. The aspens in the grove circling the cabin whisper intimately to one another with their new coats of silvery-green leaves.

Scully hefts the ax and brings it down on the chopping block. Mulder returns her smile. He teases her about her insistence on doing the wood-chopping chores. And she teases him right back, saying she can't grow too soft, letting him do all the manual labor around their new home. Their banter is in good fun, but Scully notices, with a pleased glow, how her biceps ripple under the sleeves of her t-shirt.

Mulder disappears inside the low door over which are, spanning almost six feet, the impressive antlers of a bull elk, a sort of "housewarming gift" to them from their adult daughter. As Scully passes the mudroom, pulling off her brogans, and enters the kitchen, she smells Abbey's latest kill roasting in the oven of the wood burning stove. Scully inhales deeply: pheasant…

Abbey has a family of her own now, but she never forgets her mom and dad. She's shown her aptitude as a huntress almost since she was a baby and her parents have never been short on fresh meat.

Scully feels a twinge of guilt. She doesn't want to take food from the many hungry mouths in Abbey's pack, but telling the girl to stop dragging game back to her mom and dad is like telling the sky not to rain. Secretly, Scully loves it. Especially now that she has an inexplicable craving for pheasant, something she only had a passing liking for before.

The woman's mouth waters at the tantalizing scent of the roasted bird. Mulder is a self-taught chef. It's a skill born and honed from necessity as a stay-at-home home dad with a demanding toddler with a voracious appetite. Cooking is something Mulder both loves doing and takes great pride in. And, although both of them are competitive with each other, Scully has never felt any rancor over her man being the better chef.

"I saw Old Eli at the hardware store," he says.

His back is turned to her as he stoops down to pull the bird from the oven. Mulder always seems to be stooping here - ducking to walk through the low doorways, struggling to accommodate his tall lanky frame to these rather cramped quarters. The cabin is exactly three rooms, with a privy and a cache out back. It has electricity run from a generator and a hand pump in the kitchen, but no flush toilet or central heating. But it was hard for Scully and Mulder to find a better place in this area on such short notice. Besides, during the past three years they've lived at far more inconvenient places.

"Yeah?" she replies. She's breathing heavily now and struggling not to let it show.

"Old coot said we're 'in for some weather,'" Mulder continues, still facing the oven.

Scully notices appreciatively how his shoulders bunch powerfully beneath his t-shirt, made damp from the heat of the woodstove. She isn't the only one being kept in shape by living rough.

"What does that even mean? Weather happens all the time!" he says. "Weather is happening now; look out the window!"

He turns to her. Mulder's hair is so long now Scully often teases him about his clean-cut style during their days in the FBI. His Grizzly Adams beard is now well past his clavicle. But his greyish-green eyes still spark with the same mischief she fell in love with all those years ago. Fox Mulder's charm is still intact - and his sarcasm too.

Then his grin vanishes as he sees her pale appearance. Shit, Scully curses herself as another fit of lightheadedness takes her. She can't hide it from her lover. She tries to grip the corner of the kitchen table for support, but the room sways and she stumbles sideways.

Her ears buzz loudly and black spots dance in front of her eyes. She, however, falls against Mulder's chest. She takes deep steadying breaths, drinking in the scents of woodsmoke and her partner's own distinctive smell clinging to his sweater. She takes comfort from it.

"...Need to quit that day-drinking, Scully," Mulder says as the buzzing in her ears subsides.

His joking, however, (Scully allows herself one glass of red wine per week) belies the worry shining in his eyes. His forehead furrows into lines as he tucks her sleek auburn head under his chin.

Scully finds herself up in his arms. It half-annoys her how easily he can lift her. Now, though there are few things she can stand less than Mulder fussing over her, she feels so drained she hardly cares.

She's been feeling this way more and more - fatigued, long before her day is through, her eyelids fighting sleep, her limbs almost as useless as sticks, her feet struggling to put one in front of the other. At six o'clock in the evening, all she wants to do is sleep. Sleep until her alarm clock goes off at five-thirty. And then she's practically propping her eyes open to stay awake.

Scully feels herself sinking down onto a soft nest of cushions by the fireplace.

"Tell me what's going on," Mulder murmurs as he gently lays her down.

Mulder picks stray locks of fiery hair out of her face. His eyes, as wide, gentle and dark as a collie's, search her face. They are trusting eyes. For all his bluster as a young cocky FBI agent, Scully almost immediately discerned his true gentle nature when she, a headstrong young doctor herself, walked into his basement office seven years ago.

The woman sees plainly the undercurrent of fear in his soft gaze.

"I'm fine," she says.

She hates how raspy, weak and unconvincing her voice sounds. The sounds around her still seem muffled and muted.

"I'm just tired," she adds and gives him one of her quick reassuring smiles.

He nods slowly, but his eyes never leave her face. Scully has known this man in many ways - as a partner, as a friend, as a lover. Three years ago, he agreed to co-parent a child with her, no questions asked. And when she got down on her knees a month ago and asked him to be her husband, his agreement was swift and enthusiastic.

Scully knows there is no fooling him.

A wave of utter exhaustion overtakes her, so great she can barely focus her eyes on his face. Mulder covers her with a heavy quilt. Then he curls his big warm body around her. Her small ass fits as perfectly against the curve of his crotch as a little spoon fits into a larger one. His great sinewy arms wrap around her tiny form. They'd been made strong by the demanding exercise during his years in the FBI. Now their rusticated lifestyle kept them fit and toned.

Perhaps on the surface Scully loathes his fussing, but when she's this exhausted, it's wonderful to feel his body against hers. She turns her head to press it against his chest. His big loving heart beats steadily and strong against her skull. Her last sensation is the warm dry brush of his lips against her cheek…

***

She's trying to hide it from him. But Mulder hears her coughing fits during the wee hours of the morning; he sees the specks of blood on her pillowcase when he goes to change the bedding. And now there's Scully's sudden faintness, her spells of fatigue that take her so suddenly.

She says she's tired … but Scully never gets tired.

She seems to have an inexhaustible amount of energy. In their years as FBI agents, during the three chaotic years of raising their daughter, in times of privation and hardship while they were on the run, Scully served as a protector, a provider, a beacon of strength Mulder rallied around.

Mulder watches her sleep curled in his arms like a cat. Her mussed hair is longer now than it's ever been since he's known her. He secretly loves the kinky curliness of it, the way it spreads across his chest like a red blanket. Scully's mouth hangs slightly open the way it always does when she's fast asleep. With a smile, he sees that she's drooling a little.

She's such a strong, powerful woman. With her alabaster skin, proud curving nose and wide flashing blue eyes, Mulder thinks she has an almost otherworldly goddess-like quality of beauty.

She's always been fighting, fighting for the victims she's advocated for, fighting against the injustice of evil men, fighting for survival itself - survival for her man, her daughter and herself.

It's in moments like these, however, when he realizes just how light she feels in his arms, how delicate and birdlike her bones are. He knows in these quietly terrifying moments how fragile her life truly is. How she could be taken from him in a flash, in just a moment.

Since that horrible fall of 1997, that fear of losing her forever has haunted Mulder. And he hasn't since then, not even for a second, taken his beautiful woman for granted.

That awful time, during the better part of 1997, she acted in the same way she does now: inexplicable coughing, nosebleeds, sudden crushing exhaustion. He'd even awoken in the inky darkness of 2 a.m. this morning to hear her retching as quietly as she could.

Mulder had feigned sleep as she vomited. As he lay there in their bed, the blackness pressing against his eyeballs, Mulder instinctively felt as Scully did … It was as if he and her relied on the same superstition. If they didn't draw attention to her abrupt change in behavior, then they could deny the crippling fear in both their hearts.

This was how it was when Scully was diagnosed with brain cancer four years ago. And Fox Mulder is terrified that his very greatest fear is coming true … that her cancer has come out of remission.

#msr #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #mulder and scully

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noforkingclue · 2 years

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Hi, I love your work so fucking much oh my god.

May I please request soft! dark!Otto with reader who has stress induced nosebleeds that can be so severe that they pass out from blood loss. And it happens when Otto kidnaps them. And then Otto is actually like worried about them and comforts them when they wake up?

Thank you ! ~ ☄️

Thank you so much anon! I'm so glad to hear that! I love writing for Otto (both dark and non-dark) and I hope you like the fic!

Title: For Now

Warnings: dark, non consensual kissing

You woke up with a gasp and it took you a second to remember where you were. You looked around the strange room as your heart pounded heavily in your chest. You took several deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down. It wouldn’t do you any good to continue to panic. You needed to try and have a level head if you were going to have any chance of escaping. Just as you propped yourself up on your elbows you heard a click of a lock and the door to the room opened.

“Ah,” said a familiar voice, “You’re awake.”

The same voice that used to bring you so much comfort. You could’ve spent hours listen to Otto passionately talk about nuclear physics even though you didn’t fully understand the subject. He had such a love for his subject, his wife, his friends that it was hard to see him as the man he had turned into.

You tried to move away but flinched when the headboard hit your back. Otto just smiled sadly at you as he slowly walked towards you. He sat down on the mattress and took your chin in his hand. When you tried to pull free his grip tightened painfully. You whimpered slightly and he sighed quietly.

“I have no intention of harming you,” he said, “But if you will continue to disobey…”

He left the threat hanging in the air and you immediately slumped in submission. Otto flashed you a brief smile as he tilted your head back. A frown flickered across his face as he took in your bloody face. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as he studied your face intently. It was almost as though he felt guilty about what had happened. It wasn’t his fault that you got stress induced nosebleeds. Then again, it was Otto’s fault that you became stressed enough to have a nosebleed and faint. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised that Otto had brought in a damp cloth to clean up your face. You jumped when you felt it touch your face and Otto chuckled deeply at your reaction.

“So expressive,” he muttered to himself, “Even when listening to an old man prattle on I could see exactly what you were thinking. Do you know how refreshing that is? Do you understand why I need to protect you?”

He threw the cloth over his shoulder and pulled you into his arms. It was such a strange and comforting act from the man who kidnapped you. You felt tears begin to well as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face against his shoulder. Otto squeezed you gently and rubbed circles against your back. You could feel yourself relaxing into his embrace, almost forgetting that he had so cruelly snatched you away. This was the Otto that you had known, the kind man who you valued as a close friend and mentor. It was only when you raised your head and saw a metal claw looking at you that you remembered that the Otto you knew was gone. You let out a cry and tried to break free but Otto’s grip suddenly tightened.

Otto gripped your hair and pulled you back. A dark look crossed his eyes and you cried out in pain at the violent action. As quickly as it had happened Otto loosened his grip although he didn’t let go. Eventually he let go of your hair and moved his hand to the back of your neck. His gaze dropped briefly to you lips and before you had time to react he gently pressed his lips against yours.

Your first instinct was to try and break the kiss. Your hands flew to his shoulders to try and push away but Otto’s tight grip made it impossible. Again, he treated you with the same gentle touch as earlier. It was as though he was afraid that if he was rough with you again you might break. His other hand trailed up your body, pausing briefly at your waist to give it a brief squeeze. You gasped at the action and Otto seized the opportunity to fully dominate the kiss.

He pushed you back onto the mattress as his hand moved to your thighs. You realised the position you were in and found the strength to turn your head away, breaking the kiss. You looked at the wall, tears pouring down your face, as Otto’s face remained near yours. He gave you a tight smile and he raised a hand to brush away the tears. You flinched at the soft action and he quickly removed his hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll stop.”

He got off the bed and you curled up into a ball. You hugged your knees to your chest as you wished that you had your old friend back. Just as you thought you were once again alone, Otto leant over you and whispered,

“For now.”

#fanfiction #marvel #reader insert #request #Doc Ock #doc ock x reader #otto octavius #otto octavius x reader #dark!doc ock #dark!doc ock x reader #dark!otto octavius #dark!otto octavius x reader #dark #☄️

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miss-celestial-being · 3 years

Text

In Sickness And In Health- D.M. (pt1)

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request | masterlist

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791 Words

request: kinda..?

warnings: dad!Draco, husband!Draco, mom!reader, wife!reader, cancer (leukemia), hospital

summary: Y/n gets sick and goes to the hospital

pronouns: she/her

house: any

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previous | next

@hopelessbutterfly I hope you like it, love! <3

Do I realize what I got myself into? Yes. Do I care? Not at all.

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It all started with a simple fever.

Y/n stayed home from work, as instructed by her husband and her office.

Then the room started spinning.

Y/n decided it would be best if she stayed in bed as to not trip over her own two feet.

Then breathing became a chore and she knew something was wrong. She decided to call a cab to the hospital to ask her doctor what was up. The sky.

When she got there, she felt as if her own legs couldn't hold her up any longer and sat down for a bit while she waited to be seen. The hospital wasn't too busy so the doctor would be out soon.

Y/n nearly passed out before Dr. Lynn showed up. She took Y/n's weight and measurements and hummed. "That's weird. Your weight went down a lot since the last time you were seen. Have you been doing any diets?" Y/n's eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. Dr. Lynn hummed again.

Y/n was taken to a room for a sit down with the doctor. Dr. Lynn spoke, "Alright, what seems to be the issue?" Y/n thought about this question for a bit before answering. She didn't really know what the issue was, she just knew there was one.

"Something's just been...off. I woke up with a bad fever this morning, then I got dizzy out of nowhere. It's also been hard to breathe recently." Lynn hummed. "And when I got here, I couldn't quite stand without falling. And-" She was cut off by the doctor "Oh, you got a little nosebleed there, let me get that." She grabbed a tissue and held Y/n's head to wipe the blood away.

"Alright continue." Y/n spoke again, "And I've been really tired. I just don't know what's wrong." Lynn nodded and wrote something down. "Let me just run some tests on you and I'll call your emergency contact if needed. It's still the same right?" Y/n nodded and Dr. Lynn left.

Tests were done and words were written. Y/n had been there for over an hour and she was bored out of her mind. Draco was called about 15 minutes before and Y/n knew he would rush here as fast as he could.

Draco got to the hospital and rushed to the front desk. "Hi," he panted, "I'm here to see Y/n Malfoy, I'm her emergency contact." The lady looked at her computer and back up at him. "Room 218, Mr. Malfoy." She spoke in a tone like Snape's.

Draco rushed to her room and knocked on the door before bursting in. He grabbed Y/n's face and checked for anything out of place. "Are you ok? Your pale, love." Draco was beyond worried. "I'm fine, just a bit sick." Draco sighed and sat down next to her.

"How long have you been here?" Y/n shrugged. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dr. Lynn knocked softly on the open door. "Great you're both here... I'm afraid I have some news." Y/n and Draco frowned simultaneously.

Dr. Lynn looked back at the papers before speaking. "Y/n, you're very sick." Y/n scoffed, "Well I know that, what else would I be here for?" The doctor sighed. "I mean, you have something called leukemia. It's a cancer that forms in your white blood cells." Y/n looked at her doctor shocked.

"Are-are you saying I'm gonna die?" Dr. Lynn looked at her apologetically. " I won't lie to you, there is a chance you will. There is a treatment you can do that won't get rid of it, but will slow it." Y/n looked down. What about her kid? What about her loving husband that was sitting right next to her?

"What is it?" "It's called chemotherapy. If you choose to do it, you'll have checkups here every week, maybe twice a week if needed." Y/n nodded sadly. Draco was silent through this, he was still in shock, but he rubbed his wife's back as if he wasn't. "I'll leave you two to process this information, I'll be back in about a half an hour." Y/n nodded again.

The room was silent as they tried to understand what was happening.Draco spoke first. "You're not dying. You have Scorpious...and me. I'm not letting you die-" Draco was cut off by a small kiss on his lips. "I'm not going anywhere, Draco. I'll do the treatment. It'll all be alright."

On the outside she was fine. On the inside she's a mess, she can't die. She has a family. She won't let herself die. She has to live. For Scorpious, for Draco, for her.

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I know I just stuck myself with a whole new series, but I really like this idea. I hope you liked it. Please request something, link at the top.

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Taglist: @dr4cking @mvdbldd @beautiful-yn @a-aizawa

Join my taglist here

More parts coming soon...

#harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco malfoy #slytherin #draco fluff #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n #hufflepuff #sad draco #draco x sick!reader #draco x you #ravenclaw #gryffindor

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kingsuckjin · 4 years

Text

Ungodly Beast 2

⸸ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader, Priest! Namjoon x reader

⸸ Rated: M (18+)

⸸ Genre: smut, horror, fluff?, angst?

⸸ Synopsis: You’d rather go to hell yourself than let the devil take your baby, even if he helped create him… even if your little boy is beginning to sprout horns.

⸸ Warnings: (may contain spoilers) death, kidnapping, kind of depression and some heavy feels, satanic symbolism, voyeurism, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap your ding dong before playing ping pong), more sinful shit, male masturbation, dom-ish reader, strangulation (like also not in a sexy way), dom! Jungkook, spit kink, the most dirty talk you've ever seen, fisting, fingering, dick size kink, daddy kink, degradation, impreg kink, pain kink, devil kook still looks wild, spanking, branding, choking, hair pulling, biting and scratching, blood play/blood eating, tattoo kink, really rough sex, a very jealous Jungkook, more death/murder, a very brief mention of drugs, fluffy sex, gore, a fight scene, it's just graphic and awful.

⸸ Words: 15k

⸸ Note: I’d link the first part in this fic here, but tumblr has been doing this cute little thing where if you insert a link in something then the fic won’t show up in the tags. So I very sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but you’ll have to go through my masterlist to find part 1. Also, an anon told me that this fic goes really well with the album Too Weird to Live too Rare to die by panic at the disco, specifically the song Far too young to die, so if you're looking for something to listen too while reading this, then that would be perfect.

"What have you done?"

Those were your mother's first words after telling her you were pregnant. You had no idea how she knew, perhaps it was the worried, troubled, tired look on your face that that told her. Maybe she just sensed it, sensed the seed of half evil already taken root and growing inside of you.

You stayed silent, confirming an unspoken conclusion between you. She clutched at the rosary around her neck as her shocked, open mouth quivered and glossy tears pooled in her eyes.

"You didn't…" She whispered, "please tell me you didn't."

Out of shame, you still didn't speak.

"How did you know?" You finally decided to ask.

"I've dealt with him before, I know the way his terrible presence feels, and now I feel it with you. I almost can't stand it." Her words both stung and made you have an unsettling feeling that crawled up your spine. Was it simply the baby she had felt? Had he marked you somehow and now it was you making her feel like this? Or was he with you? Silently watching and waiting.

"What did you give for the child?" Your mother was nearly in sobs now.

"He didn't tell me at first-" you began to try to defend yourself but your mother cut you off.

"He never does. What was it?"

"He's taking him…" you felt the prick of tears sting your eyes now too. You had to cover your mouth quite suddenly to keep a sob from escaping. It hurt to think about, to talk about. You were afraid. "...when he turns five."

She took your hands between hers and looked you in the eyes.

"We will do everything we can, I promise. We will fight."

You nodded and attempted to blink away the tears.

"Pray with me. We can pray. God will help us, I know it."

You nodded again as she gripped your hands firmly in hers reassuringly. She let her head fall slightly and closed her eyes prompting you to do the same.

As she started with her prayer, you began to feel a ringing in your head, the sound grew and grew until it was piercing, drowning out her words. A tsunami of nausea overtook your body so powerful you jumped up from your seat at your mother's kitchen table, knocking the chair back as you ran for the bathroom in a dizzy haze.

"Ah, they should call it all day sickness instead of morning sickness." Your mom had committed, seeming to brush it off, but you knew in your heart and deep in your soul that something was very, very wrong here.

From the moment you first saw him, you were in love. His big doe eyes, his chubby little cheeks, his soft little hands, and feet. Although he had no horns or black eyes, you tried hard not to see his father in him, which was difficult sometimes.

The worst memories for you were taking him to get baptized as a newborn. He had screamed from the moment you had entered the church and nothing you could do would calm him.

The moment the blessed holy water touched his skin, you watched as it seemed to burn and blister his infant skin in just seconds. You went out to your car in the church parking lot,

calmed him the best you could before strapping him into his car seat, and you cried.

You cried because while he seemed to be a normal little baby, your son, the baby you feed with your own body, sing to, bathe, and love, you were occasionally reminded of what he was and that you might only have him for a very short time.

He still whimpered in the back seat just as you did in the front. Guilt and sadness and fear prompted you to get out of the car and into the back seat where you unfastened him as his pout only worsted your feelings. You took his small body in your arms and held him to your chest. Your nose snuggled into his mess of fluffy dark hair.

"I love you. No ones ever going to take you away from me. I don't care what you are, you're my son more than anything." You let your tears fall onto his head.

That wasn't the scariest thing you had been through though. The worst was the nightmares.

The first was just under a month after he had been born. You had sat up in your bed covered in sweat, the house felt like an oven. Your heart was beating hard even before you had heard it coming through the baby monitor.

Singing.

It sounded high and angelic along with the happy coos of your son. As your groggy mess faded with the race of your heart you also realized it was in a language you not just couldn't understand, but had never heard anything like it before.

It took no time at all for you to practically leap from your bed, and dash from your room and down the hall to your son's room.

As you pushed his door open you saw him. You felt like your heart was beating in your throat now as you saw him with his back to you holding your son, bathed in only the moonlight that the sheer curtains of the nursery let in.

The singing had turned to a soft hum. You realized how wrong you were upon pinning his voice like an angel. You saw the horns sprouting from his wavy hair that dangled as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to do anything to save your baby and keep him from being taken away from you. He was a newborn, it wasn't even time.

You couldn't do anything though, and you didn't know why.

Horrifyingly you found yourself yet again drawn to him, in awe at his presence.

"You can't…" you managed to choke out.

"I will." He didn't turn as he spoke to you. After he spoke, you woke up.

You couldn't sleep very long for months after that nightmare.

There was no denying by age two and a half that he looked more like his father. There was also no denying the little bumps you found while brushing his shaggy hair that sat on the top of his head under his skin. Most mothers would be concerned, wonder if their child had gotten hurt, and bumped their head a few times. But you just sat there frozen, feeling the bumps. You knew what they were, they were his father's claim to him, they were forming horns.

"Mommy okay?" Your son noticed your strange and oddly still demeanor as the hairbrush dropped from your hands onto the bathroom tile where you sat.

That's when it hit you the hardest. Your baby was halfway there. Halfway gone. All you had done so far was helplessly try to deny the fact that he was coming for him. He would take your little boy and drag him to hell if you didn't do something to fight this, find some way, something, someone to help you.

"Mommy?" your son had turned around and was now reaching for your cheeks to smush with his hands like you often did him. His face read of concern and question. Your heart melted at his little gesture. You took in his sweet little face again, his little two front teeth poked out just a little. You couldn't help but squish his face gently right back.

"Mommy's okay." You tried to reassure him the best you could, and it seemed to work. Lucky for you toddlers were sweetly gullible.

The moment you got free time you sent a text to your mom telling her you'd be dropping her grandson off at her house tomorrow, you didn't wait for a reply as you already knew she would jump at any chance to see her grandson whenever she could.

You then made a very important series of phone calls.

"Thank you, thank you so much for meeting with me today on such short notice father-"

"Father Namjoon or just Namjoon is fine." He interrupted. "And don't mention it, I'm here to help. You mentioned problems with your child?"

You took a deep breath and let your face finally show the worry you felt, your bouncing foot on the floor let out your anxiety. You sat there in his office at this tiny church. Worried he would throw you out the moment you told him the truth about what was going on.

Father Namjoon sat across the big worn wooden desk from you and waited patiently for you to further explain. Behind him on the wall was a massive cross along with pictures with him and maybe members of the church pinned to the wall.

" I'm afraid I didn't tell you everything over the phone because… well, every priest I've called said I was crazy and hung up on me after I told them." You admitted and watched as his body language changed with his growing attention.

"But father Namjoon, I swear on my son's life that what I'm about to tell you is the truth. My son is no trouble, but his father is. See, I would've brought my son in today, but he gets these… headaches and nosebleeds in churches."

You watched his reaction carefully, he curiously tilted his head.

"Go on…" he urged.

"Because his father… is… the devil."

Namjoon gave you a nod of understanding that was far too casual for the words you said.

"I have proof." You defended before he could even think to refute your claim.

"I believe you."

"What?" You asked thinking maybe you were only hearing what you wanted to.

"Listen," he leaned forward so that his arms rested on his desk. "He's real. I know he's real. The nervousness in your voice and you say you have proof… you seem perfectly sane to me. When can I meet with your son? Would your home be alright?"

"What are you doing right now? He's with my mother right now."

"Let's go." He said with sureness and no thinking time behind it.

He followed your car to your mother's home. You watched as he got out of his car and just stood there in the driveway, staring at the home.

"Something wrong father?" You asked as he brought forth the cross around his neck and clutched it tightly.

"I can feel him."

"My son? My mom says the same thing about him. We just assume he carries the same feeling as-"

"Not your son, the devil. He's here."

Your heart began to race at the thought of encountering him again. Maybe you had gotten in over your head by asking a priest to see him, but you had to do something.

"Your cross." You stopped father Namjoon as he started to walk towards the door. "I'm sorry but you can't have it near him. My mother had to take down all of hers when he was born."

His eyes seemed to shift around nervously before finally taking off his cross and putting it in his car.

"No worries." He gave you a reassuring smile.

You expected more upon entering the house, not just for your son to casually be sitting there watching tv.

You and your mother had exchanged silent, nervous glances upon her letting you in and seeing the priest.

"Hey buddy, someone wants to talk to you." You knelt down and told your son but he seemed to ignore you.

Your mom turned off the tv, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"Touch his head." You whispered to Namjoon.

He stepped forward and crouched on the floor.

"Hey, little guy! What kind of show were you watching?" He placed his hand on your son's head to pat it but quickly retracted it.

"Don't touch me." your son spoke clearly and firmly. His speech was nothing like his normal, broken toddler way of talking.

You looked at Namjoon who still looked shocked by something, it had to be the growing horns.

"Daddy said don't touch me." Your son spoke again perfectly as if he were a few years older.

Daddy said

"Oh my go-" you couldn't help but let out at his words. Had his father been around this whole time? Just watching him… and you?

"I won't touch you, I promise. Could you turn around for me?"

Your son did as he was asked and faced the priest, looking up at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“Can I show him your back?” you asked knowing he would let you touch him before he would a priest. Your son nodded but seemed confused.

You lifted the side of his shirt and showed Namjoon the mark spread along the ribs. The upside-down thick, black cross.

“Quite a birthmark you have there.” Namjoon joked with the boy.

“His father has the same one."

Namjoon stood to his feet which prompted you to do the same.

"Can we talk?" His eyes flickered towards the front door.

"Yeah of course."

"Possibly off the property?" He added and you gave him a nod.

“I'll be back” you assured your mother as you left with the priest.

He led you to his car before asking if you wanted to get a coffee and told you he needed it after what he had just seen and felt. You understood and agreed.

He continued to apologize on the short drive there, but again you understood his need to process this.

It wasn't until after you both had gotten your drinks and sat down in a quiet corner of the shop that he began to talk openly.

“I’m still not sure what to think of all this, but I know you're not lying. He looks like him. My…” he let out a sigh as he played with a pink packet of sugar. “My grandmother had a run-in with him once, never said why or how, but she described him and the way his presence felt. I just don’t think it's your child making me feel that way. I really need to ask what happened between you and...his...father.”

“I-um..I…” you too took a deep breath and decided to explain everything as detailed as you could from summoning him, to only having a few years left with your son. You felt ashamed as you explained to this priest how you had slept with the devil.

Namjoon didn't seem to judge you though, as a matter of fact, he looked sympathetic. He seemed so sweet, kind, and understanding.

“I’m not sure what I can do here,” he told you and reached across the table to place his hand on yours “but I promise to do the best I can. I will do what I can to help protect your family and son.”

You felt the honesty and sincerity in his words, it felt so comforting to you.

“It’s going to be hard, I can just tell he doesn't want me there. I don't know if it’s because I’m a man or because I’m a priest. Let me ask you a rather personal question, have you dated at all since your son was born?”

“No.” you shook your head “I don’t want anyone getting attached to my son because I just don't know what's going to happen. Also, I’m afraid…he might do something. I just… I don't want to put anyone else into this that doesn't need to be.” that part hurt you too, you just felt so lonely on top of it all. “I've had no one to turn to with all of this except my mother.”

“Well, you have me now, okay? You don't have to feel alone anymore. We can solve this together.”

Namjoon had come up with a plan to meet with your son every other day, and at the end of the week, he would meet with only you and talk over the progress, if he had made any at all.

Just a few months in, there was a difference. It seemed his method of slowly introducing god and holy objects such as crosses were beginning to work, he no longer got headaches and nosebleeds around them, and his horns while still little bumps under his skin, they had stopped growing. That also happened to be the month your mother got very very sick. No matter how many times Namjoon came and prayed over her, she still continued to just slip away until she was gone.

And now you had no one but Namjoon.

The day after she passed away was the hardest. Your son was still too small to fully grasp the concept of death, but he still cried about his grandmother never getting to play with him again.

You had waited until you had put him to bed and he had fallen asleep to pour yourself a glass of wine and just cry.

Nothing could distract you from the pain, from the heavy misery, not even the pouring rain and house shaking thunder.

You had turned off all of the lights, the only thing that would occasionally light the room was the lightning.

You felt so alone, more alone than you've felt in your life. You tried hard to sense him, but he just didn't seem there. The one time you felt so desperate and alone, his presence didn't loom over you.

“I hate you,” you spoke out loud. “If you can hear me I hate you. I hate that you've done this to me, I hate that you took her from me and your son. Are you really watching over your son or do you just love to see me suffer? Do you love to see me alone? Huh?” anger coursed through you as you talked to the walls “Answer me!” you yelled a little too loudly and worried that you would wake your son up so you decided to be quiet.

The desperation and loneliness felt like it was suffocating you, you had to do something.

You felt pathetic calling him up this late, but once you heard his voice you already felt better.

“Hey, how are you hanging in there?”

“Not good Namjoon.” you sniffled “I-I just feel so alone, so in over my head. All the things my mom has done for me I just…” you did your best to hold back tears.

“Do you want me there? Is it alright if I come over so you don't have to feel alone?”

“Please?” Your plea was squeaky and weak.

“I’ll leave right now okay? It's just important to remember that you're not alone. God is with you.”

“Thank you. I don't know what I would have done this past few months without you.”

“Please, don't mention it.”

You don't know how it got here. You had only had a half a glass of wine in total, and a two-hour deep conversation and now you had pulled him into your room and you were ripping off each other’s clothes as if they were tainted.

“Fuck me” you tossed your shirt to the floor and pressed your lips back to his with ferocity. He sharply exhaled through his nose at how turned on he was by your demand, although you could feel it through his underwear.

“You sure?” he mumbled into your lips. You let out a hum into his before sinking to your knees.

“Fuck.” he muttered, mesmerized as you pulled his underwear, letting it fall at his feet and letting his cock loose.

You let little time pass between the moment you saw his cock and putting it into your mouth. You were hungry for touch, for affection, for sex, for companionship, and you were sure to show that in the form of his dick in your throat. It was as if somehow you hoped it could fill that strange void that had existed in you for far too long.

He thrust in tandem with your head bobbing while letting out groans and sharp breaths of pleasure that just told you that it had been a while for him too.

Thunder rolled in your dark room as you suppressed a gag and let your spit dribble down your chin. You were dripping with need at just the thought of sex.

As a brief flash of lightning lit the room, you swore you saw him in the chair in the corner of the room, legs crossed, watching you.

Could it have just been your imagination playing tricks on you? Could you have been just thinking about him? Was it what you wanted to see?

You closed your eyes as you took Namjoon deeper into your throat, letting the tip of your nose connect with his thin patch of pubes.

His hands tangled in the back of your hair.

"Can- can we have sex? Please? This feels too good to take this anymore."

You took him from your mouth and got into the bed on all fours. He took a moment to take your body and pose in for a moment, but once his brain seemed to function again he got behind you on the bed.

His fingers ran down the skin of your back almost making you shiver.

He yanked your underwear down around your thighs and ran his fingers along your soaking folds.

"No teasing, fuck me."

You heard an almost inaudible moan behind you before feeling his tip at your entrance.

The feeling of him slowly sinking into you, filling you, felt so nice after so long.

"Be rough with me."

"O-okay." He stammered and grabbed the back of your hair to pull on as he began slamming into you.

The skin of his thighs slapped at the meat of your ass over and over, but it somehow just wasn't enough.

"Harder, call me names."

"I won't- I can't call you names." He panted his refusal.

Thank god he was behind you so he couldn't see you rolling your eyes.

"Stop stop, stop."

His hips quit moving at once.

"Lay on your back." You had had enough and wanted to take this into your own hands.

One he pulled out and played down you straddled his hips, reaching down to guide his cock into your entrance before sinking down on it.

The moment you slowly moved your hips with him buried inside of you he began to moan. You picked up his hands and placed them on your breasts.

"What do you think, father?" Your voice dripped with seduction as you clenched around him.

"You're so- oh god- so beautiful."

"Wrong answer." You stilled your hips making him scramble for the right words.

"Your pussy is so wet… just for me."

"All for you." You began to move your hips again with the answer that satisfied you. Possibly to make sure they didn't stop again his hands drifted down to your hips to move them faster on his own. You couldn't help the loud moan that slipped out of your mouth at him taking control just a little.

"You take my dick so well."

"Fuck fuck." You chanted, moving your hips faster, feeling so close to losing it. You couldn't lie, the thought of him being a priest was really about to get you off right now.

"Such a bad girl." He murmured. Maybe he felt the same.

"Does it feel good being in the same cunt as the devil has been?" You teased.

You swore you heard a very short, unamused chuckle from somewhere in the room.

"Fuck yes, fuck I'm so close." He aggressively moved your hips now, his fingers digging into your flesh and finally making you cum.

"Up up"

You got off of him fast and watched ad his hand went around his cock to give it a few short jerks. His thick cum spurted from the tip. Coating his hand and shaft.

"I'll get you something to clean that up with." You climbed off of him as he quickly nodded.

"Darliiiiing"

You felt a hand on your thigh that woke you from your sleep.

"Wake up, I need you." Your face contorted in confusion at Namjoon's words.

"Too tired." You muttered into your pillow.

"But I'm so hard for you." His deep voice whispered in your ear sending tingles through your body.

"All I can think about is your wet little cunt of yours. I'll do whatever you want me to darling." His hand ghosted up your back until it came around and reached your neck where he left it

"Mmm." You hummed in satisfaction as you rotted your ass into his once again hard dick.

"You like that? Hm?" His voice was so thick and rough with sleep. "What if I squeezed just a little?" His fingers tightened slightly around your throat.

You were more than ready now for round two, it seemed he had found some courage between when you fucked earlier and now.

"Who does your pussy belong to, darling?"

"You." You whispered mixed with a moan. You needed him back inside of you so badly that you ached for it.

"You lying whore." His grip on your throat tightened, so much that it became almost impossible to breathe.

You struggled against his grip and tried to pry his hand from your throat.

"Your body and cunt belongs to the devil. Evil courses through your blood." You could hear the hate in his voice through his gritted teeth.

You tried to kick at him, hit him, but you could feel the tightness in your face and brain from lack of blood flow and oxygen.

"Stop, please." You attempted to choke out as your vision grew hazy.

"You belong in hell too."

You thrashed until there was no more pressure on your throat, your hands and feet collided with nothing.

You sat up in your bed covered in sweat. You were alone and once again your room was as hot as the pits of hell themselves.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand, almost blinding yourself with the light from it as you checked the time.

Namjoon had left hours ago. He had left upon your request.

"What the fuck." You sighed as you flopped back into your bed.

As you laid there the weight of reality seemed to feel heavier and heavier on your chest, crushing.

Your mother was dead, you had fucked a priest, the devil wouldn't leave you alone, and you had very little time before your son was gone forever.

Your bedroom felt too large, too spacious for your lonely body just as all of your problems did. Would you end up sucked into it all? Eaten alive? Was there any point in fighting at all?

You swallowed down the lump in your throat but it was no use. You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and leaked into your hairline as you stared up at your ceiling.

"Please" your word brought forth your sobs in the empty room "make it stop. I'll do anything but give up my son, just make it stop."

You couldn't help it, for weeks after your dream you felt weird around Namjoon. The rational part of your brain knew he wouldn't hurt you, although you still denied any little advances he made. It did fade, and once he took you out to dinner and you let him put his hand on your knee, but he was careful not to overstep boundaries.

You thought about calling him one night as you laid there sleepless in your bed. You don’t know how you had gotten so turned on but your body felt so hot with need.

You tried to just roll over and go to bed, but your sensitive clit throbbed along with your heartbeat as if begging you to touch it. Sny motion you made at all only made things worse until you gave in.

You pulled up your oversized sleep shirt and shoved a hand down your panties. You paused a moment as you realized that it wasn't just getting off you needed, but contact with someone.

You went to reach for your phone on the nightstand, but your hand didn't even meet it before you froze.

"Don't." It was a command.

Your eyes flashed to him sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, just like you thought you had seen him a month ago with Namjoon.

You quickly pulled your hand from your underwear and sat up with your mouth agape.

"Did you miss me, darling?" His horns tilted as his head did.

"Get out of my fucking house and leave me and my son alone!" You growled, clutching your shorts angrily in your fists.

"Why? So you can fuck that priest again?" He held up his index finger, slightly shaking it making a tsk-ing sound.

"Why does it matter to you what I do?" Your voice was stone cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned forward in the chair with a smirk. You couldn't stop yourself from thinking how regal and utterly beautiful he looked. He looked far more casual this time in a black t-shirt and jeans, but nonetheless majestic and powerful.

"You must've forgotten. That's alright, I wouldn't mind reminding you. I'm not here for our son, don't worry, not just yet."

"Then let's talk about that."

"Talk?" He gave a little smile "we can talk. Come here."

Although you wanted to, almost needed to, you stayed in your bed.

"Then feel free to keep going… unless you want some help."

"Tell me why you're here." You demanded.

"I'm here to save you. You called me."

"I didn't." You argued.

He beckoned you over once more as he stood from the chair. You got out of bed this time and stepped closer.

"You've done nothing but try to get my attention for months. Don't argue, you know I'm right. I can hear it again, that delicate little heart of yours fluttering when you see me." He reached a hand out for you, you took it, it was just so warm in yours. You let him pull you in until your back faced his chest with his hands on your sides.

"You called me, see?" You closed your eyes as he whispered to you, your bodies swayed together in a nonexistent song. It felt as though he was pulling you deeper into a trance, and you let yourself go.

"Does that heartbeat for me? Do you live for me? Do you want me?" You felt his nose graze your neck, the hot air from his worst trailing behind it. You had dreams of this moment for years. His whispers, his touch, the way he made you feel drunk and hypnotized you, the way he made you feel whole.

"Yes." You couldn't lie, everything but the truth had melted away, you couldn't feel or speak much else. You were weak for him, weaker than you remembered.

"Then are you mine?"

"Yes." You answered once more.

"I'll talk to you my love, about whatever your heart desires. First, tell me what it is you want from me." He whispered as you felt him grip the hem of your sleep shirt at your thighs. His hands brushed your skin. You continued to sway with him, eyes closed, worried that if you opened your eyes that this would all be a dream, worried that if you looked at him you'd fall deeper.

You didn't want to say it, you didn't want to admit you wanted him right now. He had done so much to you. Your internal struggle was hard, you wanted him desperately, yet he had done so much to you and your family. Even your closed eyes couldn't hold back the tears that escaped.

"Why did you take her?" A single son escaped but you shut it down, you refused to show all of your weakness.

To your surprise, he gently shushed you.

"Darling, I didn't take her. Her soul was never mine to take. I don't decide who lives and dies, it was just her time."

You were stunned, why was he comforting you? Why did it feel so good?

"Please don't take our son, he's alI have now, he-"

"I've thought about so many things. We can talk later, no tricks, no lies. You don't need to worry. Just let them all fall away and tell me what you want."

You bit your lip as you felt his cock begin to twitch beside you.

"You already know I want you." Your voice was a soft, weak whisper.

"Yes, but do you want me to hold and comfort you? You've been struggling so much with that. Perhaps you want my cock buried so deep inside of you that it hurts. Or maybe you just want me to pump that belly full of a second baby."

His hand slid into your panties as you let out a gasp of excitement. Every nerve in your body felt hypersensitive, so when he slid his finger over your slit you cried out for him.

"All of it. Please, I want it all."

"What a greedy, needy little bitch. Did that boring god loving freak not satisfy you?" He teased as his finger dipped into your folds and teased at your clit.

"N-no." You stammered.

"You didn't look like you were having much fun, not until you saw me at least." He seemed so amused by it. "I'm a little mad you let him poorly use you like that" he seemed to growl making slight fear go down your spine. "Who fucks you better? Who has a bigger dick?" His finger circling your clit picked up speed with the ferocity of his words.

"You." Your breath was already short.

"Tonight, prove to me that you're mine, that you're devoted, that you'll do whatever it takes for me, And I'll show you I'm yours."

This wasn't happening, you couldn't believe the words he had just softly said into your neck. Your disbelief was cut off by your quickly approaching orgasm. You let out a whine as your knees turned to rubber, you would've fallen had he not have been holding you tightly against him.

"That's it darling, let me have you, let go for me." Your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb and all you could do was whine.

"Such a good girl." He still held you tightly and placed light kisses on your neck and collarbone as he took his tattooed hand from the front of your panties.

You let out a small shriek when he picked you up and carefully set you on the bed. He could've broken you in half right then and there, if he wanted to.

"On all fours, ass facing me."

You hurried into position for him, and for a while, you felt nothing until you felt the fiery sting of a slap along a cheek.

You sucked in a breath.

"What's the matter baby, can't take it for me?"

He was so wrong, you loved it.

"I'll take whatever you give me." Your words were followed by the pleasure of another slap.

"Fuck it." He muttered and suddenly you were dragged by your legs onto his lap where he positioned you over it.

"Take anything for me, huh? We'll see about that." The slaps kept coming until your ass felt raw. You arched your ass up for him as you let out a needy whine.

"You're so fucking wet, it's everywhere. Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you're whining for?"

You let out another whine.

"Say it."

"Please touch me. I want you to touch me."

"I'll give you what you want." You knew that tone he used, it was the tone of having something else planned.

His fingers immediately sunk into your core.

"You're wetter than I thought, I could slide whatever I wanted into you so effortlessly."

You could hear the sounds of his coated fingers working you too.

"Whatever you want." You replied hoping it was his cock, but you knew better at this point.

"My love, I'm going to absolutely fucking ruin you."

You went to reply but suddenly felt the slight stretch and sting of more fingers entering you.

"Ahhhh." You let out but backed up further onto his hand, still wanting more.

"What a good little whore, look at you riding my hand and taking it all for me."

You loved the pain, and he gave it to you like no one else could. You were already ruined for anyone else, but he didn't know that.

His hand felt so deep inside of you that you swear you could feel it in your stomach.

"Harder." You begged, and he obliged.

"You like me filling you like this, slut? I'm going to stretch your pussy so well for my big cock."

You continued to rock backward in tandem with his movements, it didn't take long at all until you were almost there, panting and gripping the sheets.

He stopped and slowly pulled his hand from your cunt, leaving you feeling more hollowed out than a pumpkin.

You left his lap and looked at him just in time to see his shirt come off. His body was just as beautiful as you remembered it, something of pure art and fantasy combined. Tattooed, muscular, and smooth you just wanted to lick every single inch of him, you had to.

You climbed back into his lap and pushed him back while you leaned forward and placed your lips to the very warm flesh of his collarbone. Your lips made their way down slowly to his nipples and enveloped one in your mouth.

"Ah." A sound of surprise and pleasure came from him, and you loved it, you loved that you could make him feel that way, you wanted more.

You took your mouth from his chest and crawled backward until you sat between his legs.

You undid his pants and pushed his underwear down along with him. You had almost forgotten just how massive his cock was. It was veiny and the tip was a blushed shade of pink that made your mouth water.

You spit in both your hands and wrapped them both around his shaft.

You slid your spit slicked hands over his leaking head before slowly bringing then down to the base.

"Faster darling. Don't play with me." He threatened with a grunt. You did as he asked and even added your mouth.

His hands tangled tightly in your hair at once.

It was hard to take him even halfway into your mouth without you gagging around his size and thickness filling your throat.

As you sucked his dick, you stared at the three black sixes on his lower stomach and watched as they moved as his muscles flexed.

"What I wouldn't give to cum down your throat right now."

You moaned around his cock at the desperation and lust in his voice.

"So fucking good for me. You suck my cock so well with your little whore mouth." He gripped your hair tighter but still not enough to hurt.

Him lying there, moaning and groaning as you pleased him made you all the more impossibly wet, you could feel it as you squeezed your thighs together.

"Please come here." He asked as he released your hair and sat up.

As you let his cock leave your mouth and too sat up only for him to lift and drag you onto his lap once again. He reached down and guided his cock into your entrance.

As you lowered yourself onto him he made a noise that should've stopped your heart.

It was a moan and a sigh all at once, he combined that with dropping his head onto your shoulder. The fullness and warmth of his cock inside of you, every little move he made, he was all just too much. How could you survive something like this a second time, especially with being this close to him.

He didn't move even an inch for a moment, not until he lifted his head off of your body and peered at you with those inky black eyes through his just as inky dark hair.

His net movements were fast, rough, and hard. He grabbed your hair from behind, forcing your head as far back as it could go without breaking anything. Your chest was arched towards him and he used it to his advantage by taking a nipple into his mouth as he bucked his hips into you quickly. All you could do was grip his shoulders for dear life as he fucked into you, fingernails sinking deeper and deeper into his muscular flesh the closer he pushed you to your high.

You felt the little sharp sting of him pinching your nipple between his teeth. You couldn't help but fall completely apart as you moaned out the filthiest curse words that you could.

Once he let your hair go and you could properly look at him, you saw beads of dark liquid forming on his shoulders. Your nails and grip had drawn blood, real human blood.

All you could do was stare. He bled just like you, he was vulnerable just like you, just like anyone else.

"Hm?" He caught your staring but seemed confused.

"I-I hurt you. I'm sorry." You furrowed your eyebrows with guilt.

He laughed, it was a real laugh, not a teasing one, not an unamused snort. His nose crinkled and his more prominent two front teeth were made more visible.

"It didn't hurt, I didn't even know you did it." He tried to get a look at the little droplets himself before wiping one away with his finger to show there was no mark left, he had somehow healed.

Each fleeting glimpse of his humanity vanished as soon as you spotted it.

His dick was beginning to soften inside of you despite him not getting off yet.

"Did you want to kiss it and make it better for me?" His voice was seductively playful and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not until he brought his blood-smeared fingertips to your lips.

You looked him in the eyes as you took them into your mouth and sucked them clean. He looked satisfied and you could feel his dick twitch back to life inside of you, showing you how much he liked that. Without a second thought, you attached your mouth to his shoulder and began to lick and cuck at the blood droplets where the wounds once were. The moment reminded you of when you were a child and they told you that wine was the blood of Christ, except this was so much better. You wanted to show him you were willing to take him in any way possible, to submit to every desire he had.

He pushed his now hard cock as far as it would go into you.

"I want to do something to you." He whispered as he continued to slowly thrust.

"Do it." Your reply was fast.

"It's going to hurt you." He added.

"Do it."

“I will. For now, shut up and bounce on my cock, slut.” his tattooed hand grabbed throat “ and you better fucking ride it harder and faster than you did that stupid Jesus loving freak.” his face read of disgust.

“Yes daddy,” you replied trying to hide the smirk at the satisfaction on his face from you calling him that.

He dropped his hand from your neck and you began to move your hips as he laid back. You would normally start slow, but you let him have it. Everything about him was incomparable to anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Fuck, like that baby.” His hair was messy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his tattoo that looked like a snake that wrapped around his torso almost looked like it was slithering.

“You like that daddy? I took every inch of your big cock just for you.” you loved the power over him that he was letting you have and you were going to make sure you got to enjoy it.

His hand shot to your hip and he squeezed.

“I swear If you fucking make me cum right now you’ll fucking pay for it,” he grunted obviously trying to hold back seeing as his hand was digging into your skin as if it was the last lifeline between him and losing it.

“Don’t you want to cum in my pussy daddy? Fill it full of cum and watch it drip out of me?” you continued to tease him and bring him even closer as you jackhammered up and down on his rock hard dick.

“Fuck, this is your last damn warning bitch.” his jaw was clenched, but it was too late, you were already falling apart on top of him, once again saying the dirtiest shit you could as he shuttered under you, barely hanging on as he watched you cum.

You paused, breathing heavily for a moment of rest, but it didn't last long. He was pulling out of you and throwing you face down on the bed, holding your hands by the wrists behind your back.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, dadd-”

“Did I say you could speak bitch?”

He wasn’t even inside you anymore but you’re empty walls clenched as you let out a small moan onto the bed sheets.

“Now let’s see just how fucking much you’re willing to take. Be good for me darling.”

You were scared but excited at the same time, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins was nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

“Yes daddy.”

“Don’t fucking move.”

You listened and stayed completely still.

You felt his hand cover the back of your neck. It got warmer and warmer until it felt searingly hot, it was burning your skin. You bit down on your lip so hard it had to have left a bruise just to keep from screaming. There was no way of stopping the whimpers that came from you in the few seconds that his hand was on your skin.

“There,” he said and sounded as though he was admiring his work before releasing your body and letting you sit up. By the time you sat up though, the pain was entirely gone as if it had never even happened.

“It’s the mark, to match.” you knew he meant that he had just branded you with an upside-down cross to match his and your son’s. You were too busy noticing the wetness on your cheeks and wondering where they had come from to concentrate on this strange sentimental moment.

You felt something warm roll down your cheek and lifted a hand to wipe away what you now realized were tears, but he gently grabbed your wrist.

With his other hand went to your chin and guided your head to face him.

You were met face to face with him, his dark eyes peering into yours and also assessing your wet cheeks.

Both hands now went to your cheeks and his thumbs wiped over the wet mess on your skin.

He was trying to dry your tears.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” his voice was quiet. It was a glimmer of sincerity, a splinter of sweetness.

“I didn’t even feel it.” you joked but he didn’t buy it or laugh, instead he just continued to stare into your eyes with both hands on your face.

He leaned in so slowly, head tilting slightly and his lips met yours so gently. Your eyes closed and pressed your lips harder into his.

It was a sweet kiss but it held the strength and intensity of being punched in the stomach.

Your hands came up to roam the back of his shaggy, dark hair but your mind was elsewhere.

You imagined him as an average man, your son as a normal little boy, you imagined a family. Cuddling on the couch, touching him whenever you pleased, your son being able to play with his father, your life with him would never grow dull. However, your daydreams were dashed as your hand accidentally met with a horn.

What was wrong with you? You knew these things were stupid and unattainable, he was unattainable. Although you had known this fact from the start, here you were sleeping with him again. He fucked you over so hard, he was pure evil and you knew it, but yet here you were falling for him even harder. To be fair though, was there a soul living or dead that could resist him, that ever has been able to?

You pulled away, his hands left your face.

He looked at you with wide eyes, he looked almost shocked, scared. There was some kind of very deep feeling moment between the both of you, some kind of wordless exchange of revelations.

A million things you wanted to say to him flooded your mind at this moment. There were so many things you wanted answers to ”Do you know how miserable I was? Do you know what it felt like waiting for you in fear the entire time? Do you know how much I hate not being able to hate you? Do you know how bad it hurts me seeing your face in my son’s? Do you know how badly you ruined my entire adult life? Do you know how hurtfully perfect you look? Do you know how lucky and cursed I feel all at once? Do you feel any weight for the things you've done to me and my family?” but you were too scared this moment would end, that he would never come back, that he would take your son and leave. You wanted to cry, but you pushed the entire internal war out of your mind, you boxed it all away just to not ruin this moment.

During your thoughts and your stares at one another, his face had softened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n” you realized that it was the first time he had ever spoken your name out loud, and as beautiful as it had sounded coming from his lips, you didn't want to hear it spoken so guilt filled. “I’m so sor-”

"Are you going to make me cum again or not?" You broke the silence, and he seemed thrown off for a moment. You didn't know what he was apologizing for, but you didn't want to know. Not only did you want to shut this sad moment down just to have the fun back, but something inside of you hurt to hear and see him like this.

An expression you were familiar with him having flickered onto his face, a smirk. It relieved you and set the fire in your body back alight.

He tackled you with his hands wrapped around you. You were flesh to flesh, his lips moving to the space above your breasts, sucking hard before moving onto another are.

“Dont fuck anyone else.” it wasn't sharp like his normal demands, it was almost as if he was asking you not to without making it into a real question.

You almost snorted as he continued making an army of marks that continued to trail lower and lower.

You almost snorted sarcastically.

“Then who the Hell am I supposed to fuck?”

“Me, fuck me.”

You did sarcastically laugh at this one.

“Don't laugh at me.” he said defensively before sucking a new place by your belly button.

“What? Every few years you’ll swing by and I just have to wait until then?”

“No. Are you even enjoying this anymore or have you now set your focus on calling me out?” he looked up at you with an arched brow.

“Calling you out seems more fun right now.” you were only half joking, all of that hurt hfrom earlier was now festering back up to the surface upon hearing his stupid lies.

“I told you I’d talk, and I will. Trust me.” he sat up and looked down at you.

“I’ve trusted you before and that was shitty.” you argued.

“Then why the fuck are you fucking me now? Why the fuck are you letting me mark you? Why the fuck are you telling me you belong to me?” he shot back.

“BECAUSE I WANT TO PRETEND YOU'RE NOT… NOT...I DON’T KNOW...THE ACTUAL FUCKING DEVIL!” you whisper yelled at him through clenched teeth.

He came down over you and looked you in the eyes for a moment with such a look you thought he might kill you, but instead his voice was quiet and calm.

“If you think I’m incapable of feeling then you’re wrong, you're dead wrong. If I didn’t feel, then why would I want my son? Why have I been watching him grow, watching you love and take care of him and doing my best not to interfere with your time with him. I may not be mortal but I have feelings, I have empathy. Do you understand the shit I have to see and be in charge of? Do you know what it feels like to just want something so pure in good while living in something so fucked? Watching you and our son has been the only sliver of heaven that I’ve ever been able to have.” his arms were shaking as he held himself over you. You had never seen his body show any signs of tiredness or weakness, even his wounds had healed right up. He was shaken talking about this and it was obvious.

It hit you hard. Why would he want to take him? Why did all of this just make sense?

“So please, don’t take this away from me right now. Let me make you cum again, let me just have this for a little longer and we can talk.”

You were stunned. He had felt the same way, he wanted to drag this out just as much as you did, he wanted to cherish this. The question now in the air was, if you both wanted to be together, then why couldn't you?

You yanked him by the hair, forcing his lips to collide with yours. Your tongue clashed with his split one, but it no longer surprised you or made you nervous. While little about him was normal, what was normal anyway? From the moment you saw him as he really was you had thought he was perfect, so why until now had you been wishing for him to be the man you first saw at the bar? Was it because the puzzle piece of his humanity had been missing in an otherwise perfect puzzle?

Your teeth gnashed together as if you were young, new lovers blooming with anticipation, as if you had never touched before now, despite fucking for god knows how long already.

He bit at your already sore lip you had bitten down on, but he wasn't harsh.

“I want you.” you told him meaning more than just how he took it. He reached between both of you and pushed himself into your already abused core, you winced from the ache and the sensitivity.

“Close your eyes” his voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear his instruction.

You closed them though.

“Now imagine me like you.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Humor me.”

You did, you imagined him like he was the night of the bar, like you had thought of him earlier.

“Now run your hands through my hair.”

With your eyes still closed, you felt for his hair before coming them through the soft, wavy strands. Your eyes opened just to make sure what you were feeling was correct. As you looked at his hornless head, his brown eyes looked down at you. Now you properly looked him in the eyes and now that you could see his irises, you knew now that he was looking right at you, not just at you though. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen with a small smile of amusement.

“I just wanted to have this moment with you, like you. I thought it would mean something to you to not have to look into cold, black pits.”

The man looking and speaking to you right now was not the devil, he wasn't horrible or evil but neither was the man he was before but you were yet to know why he did the things he did.

You lifted your neck this time to kiss him and his lips chased yours as you laid back onto the pillow. He once again slowly began to thrust, short breaths and quiet moans escaped you both. Your legs entangled around his hips, angling your own body so he could hit just the right place.

“Be with me.” his voice shook as he continued to thrust “I’ll do anything.” he sounded just so weak as if he were pleading.

“I’m already yours, don't pretend you don't know that.”

“Let's have a family then, I’ll stay.” he rested his forehead on top of yours, his eyes were closed, hips still moving hard cut slow as if with each powerful but passionate thrust was a chance to convince you to be with him.

“As-” you could feel yourself coming closer and struggling harder to catch your breath. “As long as you stay.” You knew it, if he went away, if you lost him tonight, nothing would ever feel this good again, you'd never feel this complete for as long as you lived.

“Let's start now on expanding.” you could see his slight smile before his voice turned serious and sultry.” want me to put another baby in you?”

“Please, fuck I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, cum for me one more time.” he picked up the pace with his hips up just a little more. “Let me get you pregnant again.”

He only thrust into you a few more times before you were coming undone underneath him.

“Fuck, I love you fuck fuck fuck.” you moaned as he also let go, burying himself deeper than he already had been.

“I love you, I love you too.” he messily kissed your lips as you felt his last few pumps slow.

Only when he had said it back did you realize you had said it at all.

You were still breathing heavily as he pulled out and laid down next you. There was silence between you, for a while as you both recovered.

"I said I would talk so here it is."

You decided to just lay there and listen to him.

"I've always known we were supposed to be together, always. There are things I just know, I can't explain it, sometimes I just know destiny and sometimes I don't until certain events happen. Ever since I became the king of hell I've always known that eventually there would be one woman that would bring me to my knees. They call her Lilith, although that's not her name just as satan, the devil, whatever, isn't mine. There have been stories and mythology written about you that just aren't true, much like everything else in my life. When I met your mother, I knew I was fucked. So I stopped you from being able to conceive, how was I supposed to know I was only helping destiny along? When you summoned me I was nervous, although curious as to what you would be like, I never watched you until you began to work on summoning me. I developed a plan. I thought if I just gave you what you wanted and then took it away from you then you would hate me, you would never want to see me again, but yet again I plated into destiny. The moment I saw my son… when I watched you care for him and love him, I-I felt this longing. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be with you both. I kept my distance and fought against the urge to just drop in and tell you how I felt. I resented you for the power you held over me, but at the same time I wanted to give you your space and let you have your time with him. I was still going to take him but at that point it was out of love. I knew you were still angry with me anyway, rightfully so, I also thought… that you couldn't love someone like me anyway, you were better off with a mortal and I wanted to let you live your life. I watched your pathetic attempts to protect our son from me, at least you thought you were only trying to protect him. You're a good mother, just like yours was. When our son was really little I used to sneak into his nursery and just hold him and stare at him, I could see you in him. The point where I knew I had to step in was the priest. Not only did he treat my son like his, not only did you fuck him and make me jealous but-"

He abruptly wet quiet just as the anger in his voice seemed to pick up.

"I'm sorry." You replied.

"It's not that, it's not any of that that makes me hate him, it's not my jealousy." He still didn't say what it was, but instead he got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" You sat straight up.

"I'm going to shower if that's okay." He replied as he shuffled for the bathroom attached to your room.

"Sure." He was already in there by the time you uttered out your dumbstruck reply.

He had said he would stay, you don't know why him doing average things in your home just astounded you.

You laid back in the bed with the reassurance of him planning to stay and you thought about it all.

At first you asked yourself what your mother would think of this, what she would say. Maybe if she knew everything that he had just told you she simply wouldn't say anything at all. She had been able to love the devil's son and see him for just the little boy he really was, so maybe she would've done the same for the devil himself had she really known him.

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable with the stickiness of his speed leaking out and smearing all over your thighs.

Some part of you was nervous to go into the bathroom with him showering in there, but it was your house.

You ran to the bathroom as fast as it could to keep the cum from dripping everywhere and making a mess on the floor.

You paused as you caught a glimpse of his silhouette through the shower curtain.

His horns had returned, but you didn't look at him as much as his overall shape, you could help your staring.

"I hear your heart again, are you looking at me?" He chuckled and your eyes went wide with the horror of being caught.

"I…"

"Do you want in here with me?"

"...y-yes?"

"Get in, I promise to just let you shower, no funny business." He offered.

He kept his word though, he did his own thing in the shower and so did you. He did look jarringly beautiful with the water beading on his tattooed skin and muscles, but you didn't know how much more your body could physically handle of him so you kept your hands to yourself.

He got out of the shower before you, you were a little concerned at the silence so you got out soon after.

You found a fresh towel and pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom sink so you quickly dressed.

He just sat there in a white t-shirt and black sweat pants at the foot of your bed. His head was down and he looked to be in deep thought as he stared at the floor. He looked a little sad.

"Have you seen him since you've been here?" You asked curiously, making him finally look up and shake his head.

"Would you like to?"

He seemed shocked by your offer.

"I wouldn't want to wake him…"

"It's alright, he's a good sleeper, he'll go back to bed… if you want to that is."

"I really really want to, I haven't seen him person to person since he was a newborn."

You led him down the hall and pushed open your son's cracked bedroom door.

His night light dimly lit the form of his little body snuggled in his toddler sized bed.

You let his father take a few apprehensive steps into the room, slowly approaching him before he knelt on the floor by the bed.

You just looked on at the little moment.

He gently pushed his son's shaggy hair from his sleeping face, but caused him to stir.

"Daddy?" You heard your son's sleepy voice ask. You had no idea how he knew it was his father, and from the look on his father's face, neither did he.

"Hey buddy."

Your son sat up and threw his arms around his father's neck, who promptly picked him up and stood. He wrapped his arms around the little boy, holding him close.

"How did you know it was me?"

Your son unwrapped his arms from his father and looked at his face.

You saw his lips begin to quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he started to break down.

"Oh no." You whispered as you saw your boy stare at the horns on his father's head.

"Your horns are scaring him." You whispered.

Your son patted the top of his own head as he sobbed in his father's arms.

"Me too, I too."

"Oh." You said as you realized that your son was answering his dad.

"You have them too? That's how you knew, huh?"

Your son nodded to his father and began to cry harder. His dad pulled him back into his body, lightly shushing him and patting his back. He buried his head in the little boy's hair much like you had the day in your car after he was horrifically baptized.

The moment hit you like a train.

He had missed his father all this time, and you had no idea.

"you know I'm always with you, right? You and mommy both."

Your son nodded into his father's neck, soaking his shirt with tears although his father didn't seem to mind at all.

"I know you hear me sometimes. You know I'm here."

Your son pulled away from him again to look at him.

"Daddy-" his words were cut off by upset hiccups from crying so hard "no leave."

"I'm not. I'll stay, I promise."

His father knelt back down on the floor and attempted to lay the boy back in his bed, but his little hands stayed locked around him.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and all of the rest of the days when you wake up from now on, you can let go, I'll be right here."

Your son finally relinquished his hold on his father who pushed more hair from his son's face.

"And mommy?" Your son's eyes look at you now.

"Mommy has always been here, silly." His father then spoke something in a strange language, it might've been the one from your dream after your son was born.

Your son gave his father a nod not just as if he understood, but he did understand this very strange language. You had never heard your son speak it, and you had no idea that he even knew a whole other language, until he spoke it back to his father.

He sat there knelt beside his son's bed until he drifted off to sleep. You watched as he gave him a kiss on his forehead before standing and turning to face you.

You walked into the hall and closed your son's bedroom door when he looked at you with a look of concern.

"There's still more I have to tell you, it's the most important thing."

"You're going to have to trust me, okay?" He asked from his seat on the sofa beside you. "There are things I know and things I don't, you have the power to change destiny, and right now what I'm seeing is someone is going to try to take you away from us, from your family."

"Okay," you tried to patiently follow, ready for him to say anything.

"Namjoon is going to kill you."

"Why's he going to kill me?"

"I had this deal with his whore grandmother… she wasn't happy with it, it wasn't my fault. It's not my fault mortals are idiots."

"Hey." You firmly snapped at him.

"It's just what I do, I teach lessons. Anyway, I believe Namjoon is going to hurt you and maybe even our son. He can't physically harm me, I'm immortal, but he can hurt the things I care about. Unfortunately, I can't kill him either, I can't kill humans, God's rules. So I can't stop him, there's nothing I can do but pass this to you. It doesn't matter what you do, Namjoon will hunt you down."

"Okay." You simply just sat there looking calm on the outside but terrified on the inside.

"So, y/n… I think it's kill or be killed in this case. If you die, I'm not sure how much I can do to protect our son but take him with me…"

To hell was what he meant.

You let out a sigh as you stared at the floor and scraped together some kind of plan.

"Take my soul." You offered.

"Why?"

"In case something happens to me, take my soul." You were sure of your decision.

"I'm not taking your soul." He declined.

"Why?" It was your turn now to ask.

"Do you want to go to hell? Do you realize how many eternities you would be tortured down there before I ever found you?"

"No." You answered both questions and seemed less sure of your offer now.

"I'm not taking your soul. Our son could come and go with me because he has that power, but you, a pure mortal… you would be in more pain than you could ever imagine."

"But if I killed a man… wouldn't I go anyway?" You pointed out.

"Not if it was out of self defense for you and your family."

"What the fuck am I saying?! I can't kill father Namjoon!" You realized.

"Y/n, I know he's going to kill you, and I don't want to lose you, I'd do anything not to lose you. What about our son? What about our second child?"

Your mouth dropped open.

"Second child? It-we…?"

"It's not just you living in that mortal body anymore. I know, just like I did the moment I gave you our son. You have to live, you have to do this, you have to trust me." He reached for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. "I love you and I need you here with us."

"How do I do it?" You gave in.

You were terrified as the phone rang.

You had just left your son with the babysitter and you sat in your car. You were alone but you felt him near you.

"Hey!" Namjoon's voice came through cheerfully and it made you feel sick.

"Hey, I'm not doing so great tonight. Everything is a bit heavy and I kind of want some fresh air. Would you go for a walk with me at the park? I know it's late but…"

"Of course. The one closest to where you live, right? I'll meet you there in a few."

You thanked him before hanging up.

"I'm sorry you have to do this." He appeared right beside you in the passenger's seat now, but you didn't look at him, instead you spaced out while looking out the window at the dark park. You were nervous, you were trying to ready yourself, you were trying to wrap your head around this situation.

"What happens after? What do I do right after?" You asked.

"I'll take care of everything. No one will know." The grim thought of what that entailed was shadowed by reassurance of only having one task to do. "You just wait in the car, I'll drive us home. I'll take care of you."

"What if he sees this opportunity to kill me like I do with him?" You asked with your hands shaking in your lap.

"I think he would wait for a moment when our son is with you, pick you off at the same time."

Your mouth was dry, but you still tried to swallow down the weight of his words.

"But what if I die? You said you don't know all things." You continued to think your worries out loud.

"I also said people can change destiny, they do it all the time."

"You haven't been able to." Your point made him go silent a moment. It was true, he had been fighting against his destiny with you since before you were born only to end up with you.

"Part of me didn't want to change it, even if I hated it at first. I've always wanted you. The first time I saw you I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. The first time you saw me, I just wanted you to look at me that way forever, I didn't care about anything anymore and that was scary. You're my Lilith, my eternal soulmate, there was never any fighting you. There's nothing more powerful than what we have, not me, not god himself."

"What if you're tricking me?" You asked abruptly.

"You really think I would?" His voice sounded hurt and you could feel him looking at you as you said nothing "of course you do, of course you'd think that after what I've done and because of who I am." His voice was soft now like he had accepted that option "I wish I could take back what I did to you, everything I've done to you. I wish I never would've made that deal with your mother, I wish you would've had a family with a normal man, a normal life… what have I done?"

"Like you said" you sighed "it was supposed to happen anyway, it's not all on you. I've suffered for you, and now I'm going to kill for you. Would I be doing that- any of this if I really thought you were tricking me?" You admitted. "Maybe I'm just blinded by you, so in love with you and wanting a family with you that I can't see anything else, you're the devil, it's probably what you do, but what other option do I have anyway?"

"We could go home." He offered softly. "We could have our family and play pretend until it's ripped away." You could hear him swallow louder than his soft words."Then I'll have nothing, but at least I would've had everything for just a fraction of a moment in my eternal life."

"I'm not going to live forever anyway you know, our son might, but I'm human. I die, and when I do I'm destined to be tortured in hell for eternity."

"You're not going to hell."

"How do you know?" You asked partially out of curiosity "I'm in love with Satan, I bare his mark, I bared his child. How much more sinful can I be? You can't sit there and tell me Satan's soulmate is going to heaven."

"God has never let me have anything. If he decides it's your destiny and your time to go, if you're taken from me and I can't have you in life, he's not going to let me have you in death." He explained.

You sat there thinking about what he said and came to the very real conclusion that you were most likely going to die tonight. God wouldn't let him have you, he had already seen that Namjoon would kill you, you were going to die.

Your eyes began to fill with tears as everything finally began to sink in.

"Please take care of our son."

"Don't." He snapped at you "Don't you say that shit like I'm going to lose you."

You began to sob, you weren't listening to him.

"You're going to go out there and fuck him up and that's going to be the end of it." His voice was stern, but you were falling apart. You let your head fall onto the steering wheel.

"Why wont you just take my fucking soul?!" You cried in despair and frustration "you have every single fucking thing in my life but that, just take it god damn it! Take it and let me burn until you find me. I will obviously go through anything for you and our son at this point. Just fucking take it."

"You don't deserve it. I don't deserve you, okay? I've fucking destroyed your life, I'm not dragging this into the timeless afterlife, no matter how badly it hurts. We have one single shot, and this is it. I'm fucking horrible, I'm the worst of the absolute worst, but there’s no way I'm going to be that selfish to let you rot in hell because of me."

"Please?" Your voice was a desperate squeak as you finally turned to him. "Fuck." You uttered at what you saw.

There was a dark liquid running from his pitch black eyes and down his cheeks.

"Is-is that fucking blood? Are you crying blood?"

You watched as it pooled at his chin and dropped onto his white shirt.

"Please do everything you can tonight." He ignored your question and begged you.

If you had a doubt that he loved you before, you didn't now. You watched as he closed his eyes.

"God," he began, he didn't seem as though he was talking to you at all "just let me have this, please? I'll do anything. Just let me have my family."

The dark car was suddenly illuminated by headlights coming from behind. You turned to see a car pulling into the parking lot.

"I'll be with you." He spoke as Namjoon parked beside your car.

The passenger's seat was empty when you looked back.

This was it.

You felt for the pocket knife you had put in your pocket upon leaving the house and your adrenaline began to rush through your body.

You willed your weak legs to get out of the car.

You forced a half-hearted smile but did your best not to look him in the eyes.

It was quiet at first as you both started down the dark trail.

"Don't get offended, but you look terrible."

You hadn't slept since you had gotten your mission yesterday night, your mind felt fried and stressed and tired.

"It's been hard." You were honest about how you felt.

"Why is your lip bruised? Did you get hit?" He pried as you thought back to how hard you had bit it the other night.

"No, I did it, by accident." Although it was the truth, you wouldn't have believed it either with the way you had said it.

"Are-are you seeing anyone? It's been a few days since we talked and-"

"No." You lied quickly.

"If there's anything I can do to help you or your son… I know things are still rough for you…"

"We'll be okay."

He gave you a strange look.

"You're not still worried about… him?" You could hear the suspension in Namjoon's voice and you knew you had to say something to extinguish it for now.

"I am, I just don't know what's left to do, I feel so hopeless." You said as you saw the path begin to lead into a more wooded area ahead.

"Don't you feel him right now?" Namjoon asked.

"He's always just… around, I'm used to it. Maybe it's just me at this point."

"What's that on your neck?" He reached out to see.

You had to do it now, you felt like your mark had given you away.

You stepped back out of his grasp as you quickly took the knife from your pocket and flipped it open. You didn't know if he had time to see it or not before you lunged at him.

He had put his hands up to stop you but the force you had come at him sent him toppling backward.

You went to plunge the knife into his neck only to feel his hand around your wrist stopping you.

He yelled for help but there wasn't another soul at the park, you had been here awhile waiting, you would know.

You used your other hand to help overpower him, but he was still stronger even with all of this adrenaline and chemicals coursing through your body, even with the image of your family in your mind.

"Stop!" Namjoon yelled at you, but this was too far gone to stop now, your mind was already made up. You knew that if you stopped now then you would be the one who died.

Your arms were beginning to grow tired and your strength was weakening and because of that he was able to shift the point of the knife towards you.

In one last burst of strength you tried to switch the knife's direction back towards him but your muscles just gave out.

You didn't feel the pain of the plunge into your chest at first, but you felt the crack of your ribs at the sheer force. You were in shock, it didn't feel at all like you had just been stabbed. You let go of Namjoon and rolled over onto the cool grass as you tried to process everything.

You could hear Namjoon panicking, sitting over you, trying to help you, it was confusing.

Why was he trying to help you? He wanted you dead.

"Please? Where are you?" You choked out. It was hard to breathe, you felt like you were drowning as you looked up at the stars.

"Get away from her." It was the only voice you wanted to hear, it had brought you some kind of peace.

You saw Namjoon look at something with wide eyes before leaving your line of vision. His quick footsteps on the ground you lay on got further and further away.

You continued to choke and gasp.

Jungkook watched in the distance as the knife was turned on you and the blade disappeared in your chest.

It hadn't hurt until now. It was as if you were his voodoo doll. He had never felt pain before, but once he felt the sting, he knew exactly what it was, although his pain came from the inside. Until now he had been watching coldly, waiting for this to happen, knowing you would die.

You had to die, there was no other way you'd let him have his son, there was no way you'd let your son end this world. You were too compassionate, too human, too emotional. You were all the things Jungkook never thought he was. Perhaps you completed him in many ways he only was now able to realize.

He was able to fool you so well, tell you all the sweet things you needed to hear to lead you to your own demise. But why did it only now hurt him? Had it been so easy to lie to you because maybe somewhere deep down in his unbeating heart he knew that maybe you really were the one? He felt as though that as you laid there dying, that you were forcing your most human parts into him, you were cursing him.

He had never actually thought you were his Lilith, his soulmate, not until now as he watched you bleeding out and physically felt it. He felt the weight of every sweet thing and lie he had ever told you pressing on his chest. Your face, the sweet moments, holding you, the guilt of never telling you his name, everything flashed before him. He wondered for a moment if he was dying too.

"I have given you a gift, the gift to feel.Your heart is broken, child. Go to her, be with her in her last breaths before I bring her home."

It wasn't even a voice that Jungkook heard, but it wasn't in his head either. He knew who was speaking to him. He suddenly felt enraged. He wasn't going to let God take you away from him.

"Get away from her." Jungkook boomed making the silly mortal that was panicking over you run at the sight and power of his voice.

Jungkook knelt down beside you and watched as the blood flowed from the corners of your mouth and tears streamed from your eyes.

"He's not going to take you from me! God damn it! Please don't take her!" Jungkook knew you wouldn't go to hell, god himself had said so. You did nothing wrong, you had been fooled by him just like Eve had been, and Eve still went to heaven when she died. He would never see you again and it hit him harder than anything ever had before.

Jungkook lifted his hand, the one he hadn't unknowingly slipped through your fingers, and produced a flame which gave way to a scroll of paper.

He pulled you into his lap as you continued to choke. He put your hand to your wound and dipped your fingers into your blood.

"It's okay, it's going to be fine, please just sign it, you have to move, sign it." He let go of your hand but it was limp. There was no more choking, only a faint rattling coming from you now.

"Please please just sign the paper." He begged. "I'm so sorry, I was wrong, I did this and I'm so sorry. It hurts so badly, sign the paper, I need your soul, I need to find you."

Silence.

There was no hummingbird heartbeat, there was no heartbeat at all as he looked into your empty eyes that still looked back at him. Your body lay in his lap with the mark he had given you, but you were gone.

“But I love you...” it was the first time in his existence that he had said it and meant it. You had never known he didn't mean it, you had never known everything he did was a lie, maybe it was best that way. Despite not feeling any of it before, he felt it now, all at once. If he could do it all over again just to mean it, just to experience those feelings along with you he would. He would have held you longer, cried more, he wouldn't have ever let you do this, he wouldn't have fed you those dreams and lies and he would have protected you. Namjoon never wanted to hurt you.

All Jungkook wanted to do now was hold you, so he did until you grew cold. It wasn't fair he only got to feel this after you were gone as punishment. He wanted to go back, he wanted to start over, but it was too late. What kind of cruel god would gift him with his now?

His chest continued to sting, as his anger continued to fester. He hated everything, God, Namjoon, himself, this horrible fucking mortal world.

He was going to burn it all. He never wanted to make another deal with any human ever again.

Whilst he couldn't touch these stupid fucking humans, his son could, he was half human.

This wasn't supposed to happen for another few years. He didn't think his son was old enough just yet, but it would have to do, he was still naive enough to destroy humanity on his father's command. All he had to do was show his son what he was capable of, fill him with rage for his dead mother, and watch the world burn. All Jungkook knew was fire and destruction, now his son could learn as well, both of them with a bitterness in their hearts.

Jungkook let out a loud scream of anger and frustration and all of these new feelings that he didn't want that felt like they were internally ripping him apart.

The entire park was sent up in flames, including your body.

The end was coming early for this world, it was over. He was going to destroy every last one of God's precious creations for making him feel like this.

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illumilu · 3 years

Text

there’s only one bed” - illumi zoldyck x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe makes the world go round. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this way too long again, but who cares?? this time it’s with illumi! aka loml ...

summary: after a lengthy car trip, you arrive at the hotel with illumi, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. including: you dreaming abt him when he’s literally right in front of you (embarrassing). this is part two of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka is already written and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! only on your part though, since illumi is basically awkwardness personified... no nsfw <3

illumi zoldyck:

- the trip to the hotel had taken 6 hours. 6 hours in which you had fallen asleep multiple times, cramped your legs, somehow made every sleeping position dangerously uncomfortable, cracked your neck and twisted your back, possibly to the point of no return.

- for mr zoldyck, or rather, “illumi”, as he had instructed you to call him, the trip was no problem. his upbringing, which consisted of mainly torture, included staying awake for as long as a fortnight at a time. 6 hours may as well have been a few minutes.

- “the silent son of the zoldycks” was his reputational nickname, or, rather, “lifeless koi fish”, as your friend, hisoka, enjoyed calling him. either way, illumi was not going to let a car ride tire him.

- when you had first met him, he had scared you. a lot. the entire “trained dangerous traumatised assassin” storyline was one that felt like a threat. you were undoubtedly taking a risk by working with him, but it was one you were willing to; it may have been twisted, but murder was your forte, and you were searching for a partner.

- over time, you had grown to be less intimidated by him.

- you were now colleagues with him, working on a new assassination.

- shockingly, planning murder took time, and who better to plan it with than the assassin himself? you had spent the past day on a “business trip”, paid for by illumi’s grandfather, where you sized up the area and familiarised yourself with yorknew.

- all for the big night.

- tonight was the day before the murder of the ten dons.

- illumi and kalluto would carry out the murder, while you made sure everything went smoothly, via a small mic attached to his clothes. the entire operation was based on trust, and would therefore be executed like clockwork.

- you had taken the necessary mental images and kept the targets in mind; all that was left was a night at a pre-booked hotel and then it would be go-time.

- you had assumed that the hotel would be high-class, with doormen, perhaps some marble flooring and pillars - it was the zoldycks who were paying, after all, and you knew they had money to spare.

- “we’re here.” illumi stated blankly, face reflecting in the window. admittedly, he did look a little bit like a koi fish.

- you nudged past him to look out of the window, leaning over to get a good view.

- oh.

- it seemed you had made quite the overestimation. it was a simple, plain building with a few stories. no doormen or extravagance could be sighted.

- you supposed keeping a low profile was important, but the depressing accommodation was somehow making you wearier.

- the two of you didn’t exchange any conversation on the way up to your room, but you were used to that.

- you and illumi had met around 5 months ago, and most of it had been comfortable silence. you hadn’t expected it to be like that - in all honesty, you had expected him to kill you - but illumi seemed... calm around you.

- it was probably because you shared such an odd passion with him; the logistics of murder. you assumed it gave him a chance to loosen his harsh demeanour and enjoy himself. the both of you had worked on multiple murders together, focusing on theory and planning, but this was a huge assassination. nevertheless, you knew he could pull it off; illumi was smart, you had to give him that.

- finally, you arrived at your hotel room, sighing from the lengthy stairway winding up to your unnecessarily high room. you assumed it was for safety purposes, but for god’s sake; why did safety have to be so enervating?

- illumi pushed the door open, and you walked in with him. finally, you could catch some rest.

- except, you couldn’t.

- a singular bed placed in the middle of the room.

- “why.” you thought to yourself tiredly.

- you stood there silently, waiting for him to say something.

- then, you remembered that he was illumi. he obviously wouldn’t see anything wrong with the situation.

- the bastard.

- it didn’t help that he gave you no visible reaction when you stared at him with your face scrunched up expectantly, as if to ask what his plan was.

- “is there a problem, y/n?” illumi asked, his tone flat as usual.

- you took a deep, worn out breath, clearing your throat.

- after a bit, you shook your head. this was strictly professional. illumi wouldn’t do anything, because he was illumi. nothing would happen.this was an important night, where rest and a clear mind were essential. blame it on the fatigue, and nothing else. you were just exhausted. there was nothing else to it. nothing.

- “no. i’m just a little tired.” you dismissed.

- a silence skimmed past.

- “my grandfather... he often tends to be absentminded. occasionally, he forgets to do certain things, or plan them correctly, i suppose. you could say this is a prime example of such.”

- “zeno forgot another goddamn bed, hm?” you laughed nervously.

- illumi stared at you once again, blinking a few times, in a methodical manner, face neutral and robotic. you smiled awkwardly and remembered that he was not one to laugh at jokes. or anything, for that matter.

- you wondered if he laughed at bloodshed. or maybe hisoka.

- “i’m going to... go to set up my stuff now.”

- turning your back to illumi, you winced at the uncomfortable air. even after all your time with him, you never learnt to stop trying to lighten the mood. the mood was literally just always unnatural, in some way. that was another one of illumi’s specialties.

- after some time, in which you had finalized tomorrow's plan and each changed into comfortable clothes, you watched illumi tie his hair up from across the room.

- his hair had always fascinated you.

- you had always wanted to touch it. honestly, even when you had first met him, apart from his magnetic eyes, you had been drawn to his hair. you imagined it felt like silk sheets, caressing over one’s hands as smoothly as honey. you were glad he grew it out; in fact, upon seeing his teenage photos, you had laughed so hard you ended up getting a nosebleed from hitting your face. illumi had been left in confusion for a while.

- you realized how random you sounded. why were you reminiscing so much?

- shaking yourself back to your senses, you admired as he artfully twisted his hair into a loose bun, strands of hair cupping his elegant, pale face.

- what a beautiful koi fish.

- most people couldn’t compute that illumi had true, human feelings. after all, it would be hard to believe a man like him felt anything. but, of course, he did, unhealthily so. he channeled all his trauma and hurt into his villainy, and received happiness from his villainy, anger from his villainy and occasionally fear from his villainy. however, there was one emotion he could never grasp. he hated himself for it, but soon realised he could manipulate his hatred into villainy, too.

- illumi was a man who could manipulate anyone or anything he wished.

- except himself.

- internally, he had always felt at a loss whenever he confronted his emotions. but, after he had met you, something had changed. as he caught you staring at his hair through the hotel mirror, he couldn’t help but feel something small stir inside of his stomach. not evil, not happiness, not hatred, not anger. perhaps, friendship?

- this tinge of new emotion inside of him initially made him feel uneasy, but that worry morphed into giddiness, a childish high buzzing somewhere in his core.

- eventually, he stood up to face you and suggested going to sleep. you checked the time on the wall clock. 8 in the evening. well, illumi had always been particular. you agreed that rest was essential for tomorrow.

- you hesitantly took the left side, and, upon seeing your choice, illumi followed to lie on the right.

- after a few minutes, you looked back at him, noticing illumi fell asleep abnormally quickly. you furrowed your brow quizzically at the rock-like manner he was in. frankly, he looked like a plank when he slept. you almost laughed, but held it in for his sake.

- he had a very specific sleep schedule, as did the other zoldycks. he could go to sleep immediately at his own command, and stayed perfectly still as he did so. he woke up at 5 in the morning every single day, without fail, almost like he had some sort of alarm clock planted in his body.

- looking at him lying there like a block, you smiled softly. illumi was quite the conundrum to you. you often speculated whether he ever got what he deserved; love, affection, anything really. you knew about his past from when he had told you nonchalantly, within a few weeks of your acquaintance. you always hoped he’d find someone to love him, but doubted whether people would bother looking beyond his bleak surface, and into his excellent mind. lost in thought, you found yourself getting drowsier. you also fell asleep generally quickly, limbs aching from the stupid car ride.

- the night passed.

- illumi was the first to wake up at 5am, stoic and in the same place he had fallen asleep in. no surprise there.

- but you.

- that was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened.

- he did not expect you to be lying on him lazily, snuggling into his body, arm and leg comfortably wrapped around his side. you were breathing lightly, face burrowing onto the ridge of his chest.

- i suppose you didn’t expect to be there either, which he realized, but the point still remained.

- why were on you his chest.

- “y/n.”

- no answer.

- illumi could have pushed you away; in fact, he could have blown you 983 metres away (his personal record).

- but he didn’t.

- it wasn’t the thought of disturbing your comfort that stopped illumi from hurling you into oblivion. it wasn’t the fact that he explicitly enjoyed it, either. he remembered that the mission was today; if he were to wake you, and you hadn’t slept enough, you wouldn’t be at your upmost performance.

- the murder of the ten dons was his priority, right? yes. it was. there was no doubt about it. that was the only and final reason he wouldn’t wake you. end of discussion.

- so, illumi stayed there, waiting for you to wake up and get off of him. 30 minutes passed, and he watched you for every single one.

- hard as it was to admit, watching you rise and fall in sync with his chest made the spark of emotion in his core grow fervently. what had that foreign feeling been? yesterday, he had settled at friendship, but now he wasn’t so sure.

- you looked so peaceful while you slept. less confusing. he remembered the time you had accidentally complimented his hair when the two of you had first met. he had found that amusing. he remembered the time you got a nosebleed from hitting your face too hard - it was after laughing at his teenage pictures, which perplexed him greatly. he remembered the times you two had sat together, working and theorizing on missions, accidentally meeting eyes or brushing hands. one time, you had dipped one of his pins in ink and scratched his name on some paper “for fun”. you had handed it to him and, for some unknown reason, the scrap was still tucked safely in his wallet. your unrivaled intelligence, your idiotic sense of humour, your smile, your lack of common sense, your twinkling eyes that so ironically contrasted his, everything. everything crossed his mind while he lay there.

- illumi found it strange how people remembered the oddest things at the oddest times.

- why did he think of that now, as you were sleeping? even worse, on the day of a meticulously planned assassination. why couldn’t he manipulate his emotions to stop fluctuating around you so much?

- it all frustrated him.

- why had he let you call him by “illumi” so quickly? mr zoldyck would have been fine. and why had he been so lenient with your antics? no one else got to touch his pins. why did he feel like keeping you on his chest forever, and keeping you safe? most importantly, why was he thinking about you so much?

- his contemplation came to a halt when he heard you stir a little in your sleep.

- finally, you’d wake up and he could forget about this entire problem.

- he watched you, expecting you to get up soon.

- you began shuffling around, brushing against his chest, and soon your eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed over. it almost seemed like you were still in a dream, in some sort of half-sleep.

- “huh?” you whispered quietly, still lying on illumi. you looked up lazily, meeting eyes with him.

- “oh... i get it...” you hummed quietly, falling back onto his chest.

- he furrowed his brows.

- “why are you here?” you hugged him from the side, softly laughing at your ridiculous dream. he tensed up at you embracing him, but soon relaxed after realizing what was going on.

- illumi looked at you, one eyebrow raised. did you... think you were dreaming?

- to be honest, he found it kind of entertaining, the way you were fawning over him. if he let you stay there, he could figure out a lot of things about his newly found emotion. it could be worth it. just not today.

- illumi came back to his senses fairly quickly; you were obviously awake now, so why couldn’t you get off of him already?

- “y/n.”

- “mmm? what? so serious all the damn timeee, illum-”

- “you aren’t dreaming. get off.”

- SHIT

- SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

- you jolted off him immediately, staring down at illumi zoldyck.

- the real illumi zoldyck.

- oh my god what. what. what. what.

- every nerve in your body began to panic, and, in the stress of trying to find the correct words to say, you just ended up making some sort of incomputable “aaaahhh” noise and jumping off the bed.

- illumi had finally gotten up and was now staring concernedly at you.

- an awkward pause.

- “let me just start by saying i did not-”

- “y/n. we have more pressing priorities for today. i don’t care.”

- illumi zoldyck had lied. even to himself. he did care. and so what if he ignored it until it festered so intensely inside of him he couldn’t do anything but tell you? he cared about you. and he knew it.

- “ok. you’re right. you’re right! illumi. one question. was i like that the whole night?”

- “i don’t know. i woke up at 5 and you were there.”

- you looked at the clock. it was 6am? what had he been doing for an hour? you opened your mouth to ask but closed it soon after. you recalled your thoughts about illumi growing up void of affection, or love, or appreciation.

- some questions were best left unanswered.

- “how long was i... mumbling like that?”

- “a few minutes.”

- you gulped. there were a few things you had to come to terms with. shutting your eyes firmly, you apologised profusely, annoyed at yourself.

- “y/n. i don’t care.” he lied once again.

- “you’re right!” you rambled - “the ten dons are today! it doesn’t matter what i said... none of it matters, we can both just forget it!”

- you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone.

- “so all we need to do is go over the plan one last time, get kalluto, and then we’ll carry it out, and soon enou-”

- “stop it. you’re wasting time. just go and get ready.”

- you sighed and smiled weakly. on the inside, you were sure your soul had died a little.

- while you left to change, overcome by embarrassment, illumi lingered by the bed for a few seconds. he tried to push down whatever he was currently feeling, but it was no use. the feeling in his core had risen up to his throat, a burst of something waiting to leave his lips.

- for the first time in a while, illumi zoldyck smiled. not at murder, or at power, or fulfillment, or achievement, or even villainy.

- illumi zoldyck had smiled at the thought of you.

- let’s just say illumi had trouble focusing on his mission.

i am honestly so fucking sorry you had to read that whole thing. the way i am literally in love with illumi zoldyck and ended up writing 2857 words bye bye bye i’m so sorry!!! PLZ what?? anyways,, i feel like i heavily underwrote hisoka now, since i did such a prologue thing for this! honestly i feel like this one came out a little boring, im sorry again AAAAA just agh; chrollo should b coming when i have time but i have exams rn so idkkkk hh

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Four

I would say this is where the plot really kicks up. Especially next chapter.

\\ Warnings: blood, violence, guns //

Home was quiet under the overcast winter sky. A blanket of snow covered everything in sight. Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered away the chill creeping down his back. It was beginning to snow more heavily as the evening set in on the server.

Winter never faired well with him, it made his hands and knees weak, and stuck him with a near constant headache. Most ailments rendered him bedridden if it was cold enough outside. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick.

Jimmy had hurried them into Scott’s home quickly after entering the walls. It wasn’t really Scott’s anymore as both of them had been sharing the space for quite a while. There was evidence of each of them strewn about.

It could do with some cleaning but the clutter made it feel more natural.

Safer, perhaps.

Scott took his shoes and jacket off. He left them near the door so no muck would get tracked into the house. It was cold inside from a week of being neglected, not a lamp had been left on after he went to see the Sand People.

One glance at his bed proved to be the nail in the coffin. He climbed into the loft and lay down, his head hit the pillow and he was out.

*****

Water trickled across the ceiling. It dropped down and landed on Scott’s cheek. Plunk Plunk Plunk.

Scott blinked into awareness and looked for the source of his awakening, only to find that it was completely dark. Panic surged through him and he sat up quickly only to hit his head on a hard surface. His hands flew out in surprise and hit two stone walls.

“What,” he breathed.

The floor beneath him was damp from perpetual rain seeping into the cell.

“No,” he whispered repeatedly.

The darkness was suffocating this time, he couldn’t calm down, he knew he’d run out of air eventually. Maybe the lack of oxygen was finally making him go crazy, imagining the walls were getting closer and closer. Scott pushed himself up against the corner and hugged his knees to his chest.

The water that woke him up seemed to flow more like a waterfall now. It hit the jagged floor and slowly approached the corner Scott had decided to glue himself to, but it didn’t stop. The water only grew deeper and deeper. He was too tired to even care. Death seemed like a more peaceful option then trying to escape.

He would drown in his tomb alone, and they would get away with it.

*****

Scott’s eyes flew open. This time not to a completely dark stone tomb, but a softly moonlit bedroom. His bedroom.

A weight from behind him made itself known.

Jimmy must have gotten into bed with him earlier that night. The covers were pulled over both of them.

Scott turned around and leaned into his sleeping husband’s arms, taking a few moments to assure himself of his surroundings; and that he was safe at home.

Sensing that his night of sleep had been cut short, Scott meticulously unwrapped himself from Jimmy’s arms and replaced himself with a pillow.

His socks masked most of the noise he made as he exited the room and partially closed the door behind him. It was deathly silent when he unhooked his coat (the one he didn’t ruin) from its place on the wall, equipped his boots, and slipped outside.

The contrast of warmth from inside to outside made Scott’s eyes water. His hands were safe inside his mittens when he brushed some snow off his front steps and sat down.

It was a bit windy outside, breeze funneled through the valley and into the Hobbit town. It bounced off the hills and dissipated into the air. Scott wished he’d brought his telescope so he could admire the sky, which was clear at the moment. A lonely band of the Milky Way sliced across the cosmos to the west.

Stargazing always filled him with a feeling of yearning. He couldn’t remember why, or even when it had started, but ever since he found himself on this server with borders and rules he felt out of place. Not just in the way he looked, but being grounded for so long. Scott had trouble understanding the ways of this world. It was obvious that he didn’t quite fit.

The snow had died down since they arrived hours earlier, nobody had cleared it for a while so it was near shin deep. Every inch of the landscape was buried, including the entrance to their enchanting room, and all the flowers that would typically adorn the forest floor.

Something was wrong.

Scott couldn’t put his finger on it. Coming to alertness, he scanned the scenery like a hawk until he saw it.

Footprints.

Fresh. Footprints.

Directly in front of his home, they came right up to the first step and no further. There was multiple sets fanning out across the lawn area. He could see all three sets from his perch.

Scott froze with fear. Someone had paid a visit in the middle of the night while they were asleep. He wondered why, but he knew.

He was about to get up and lock himself inside when he felt something step on the creaking stairs right behind him. Scott’s eyes flicked to the side for a split second before he instinctively stood up and attempted to flee down the remaining steps, but he didn’t make it.

A hand instantly wrapped around his forearm and wrenched him backwards, he fell into an armored torso. A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, and an arm snaked under his own to render them paralyzed.

“It would be in your best interest not to scream Major,” a terrible Scottish accent made itself known. Scott nearly rolled his eyes.

Of course, this dramatic fool had to come and ruin his night. One thing was for certain, he was not getting kidnapped again.

A sharp object poked at his ribs.

“Just a precaution,” someone said in a falsely apologetic tone. No doubt it was Skizzle.

That meant that he was being immobilized by Martyn. He should have known really, that man followed the Red King anywhere. Upon the ladder’s orders, he escorted Scott down the steps and across the snow stricken grounds, just next to Jimmy’s “house” that they’d mainly been using as storage for the odds and ends that didn’t fit in Scott’s place.

The hand was removed from his jaw and he jolted his head away with a mirthful expression. He fixed his eyes directly where he assumed Ren’s were beneath his sunglasses; which he was wearing in the dead of night. Asshole.

Skizzle stood next to Ren with an imposing posture, as Martyn had a free hand to hold his own weapon with. The weapon being an enchanted diamond axe which he held with a sort of pride.

“You know,” Ren began, “I must give it to you Major, that escape you pulled off was impressive,” he spoke in an unbothered manner and ground his foot upon a rock somewhere under the snow.

“Why are you doing this, Ren?” Scott cut to the chase. He was uninterested in games.

“You aren’t even a red lifer. You can’t kill me,” he added.

Ren scoffed. He adjusted his glasses, “and who exactly is policing that rule?” he said with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow.

“Grian?”a beat passed, “you?!” he began to laugh to himself. Skizzle and Martyn joined in momentarily.

“More green lifers have killed people than red at this stage, so don’t get on me about that,” he said.

“These are my walls,” Scott pointed out.

“That’s funny, you didn’t seem to have much respect for our walls earlier did you,” Martyn said close to Scott’s ear. He pulled away.

“Can I at least be let in on why you’re picking on me of all people?” Scott asked with no enthusiasm.

“Don’t tell me you went on and forgot that Timmy dearest is responsible for the deaths of myself and Skizzle,” Ren shot back, leaning into the other’s personal space.

Everyone looked between each other, “among other things,” Ren added.

Skiz nodded in agreement and sent a meaningful glare towards Scott’s house, where a dim light was on in the bedroom.

Scott’s mouth hung open in rueful shock, “that’s what all this is about? It was an accident,” he shouted. Which earned him a light punch in the side.

“Be quiet,” Martyn warned.

“You know he didn’t mean it! He was sorry and you know it. The only reason you’re even here right now is because it was an accident. Don’t do this to him,” Scott half pleaded but he was more angry.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You’re buddy buddy with the people who want to kill us too. Hmm, maybe you are familiar with the term ‘covering our bases’?” Ren added.

“This isn’t all about your perfect little life Major,” Ren dropped the accent and took Scott by the front of his jacket.

“Things are going to change around here for all of us, and it starts with your Timmy paying his dues,” he said.

Scott’s face pulled into a scowl. He thrust his head forward vigorously, the plastic CRACK of Ren’s sunglasses on impact split through his ears as he saw the “Red” King stagger backwards.

Before his goons could decide their next moves Scott lifted his foot up behind him quickly, glad he’d decided to wear his heavier boots on a whim as they collided with an unfortunate set of unmentionables.

The owner of the unmentionables keeled over. He all but threw the axe out of his hands, which Scott graciously took for himself. He tore himself free and swung around, bringing the back of the axe down on Martyn’s bowed head. Purposefully omitting the sharpened blade from the equation.

Skull met stick with a loud THWACK; and Martyn’s body went limp. The Hand fell on his side into the snow with a muffled thump.

Scott admired his work for a moment and considered it even for the lingering purple bruise still on the side of his own face.

There was no time to waste though, he turned back to the remaining members of Dogwarts with a new feeling of control.

Ren’s face was still buried in his hands. No doubt sporting a wicked nosebleed from being head-butted. His glasses were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the deep snow.

Scott’s attention turned to Skiz now. Who was in battle position.

It was not a fair fight by any means. The Red Army was decked out in their signature crimson dyed armor (not great for sneaking around but they weren’t much into that) and their iconic shields which Scott thought were a bit ugly.

Nobody was immune to quick thinking though. Even with all that armor, a man can’t be immune to a kick in the nuts.

Skizzle made the first move. He pushed off his heel and swung his sword vertically in Scott’s direction. The ladder, shieldless, jumped out of the way. Skizzle regained his composure and ran after him like a blood sniffing shark. Scott ran away from him in as dead a sprint that can be achieved in knee deep snow, letting his pursuer gain some momentum before he sharply turned around and plunged his axe blade into the thick wood of Skiz’s shield.

The aforementioned momentum caused Skiz to keep moving while his Sheild was ripped from his arm attached to the sharp blade of Scott’s (new) shiny axe. Both of them fell over in the snow.

Wanting to get the jump, Scott staggered to his feet and sat on top of Skizzle to keep him on the ground. They pushed back and forth with their respective blades until Scott was thrown off the other, who immediately slashed his sword at him but missed by a hair.

Scott rolled away clumsily with the shield on his arm and used the handle of his axe to stand up just in time for another barrage of slashes that audibly cut through the air. Scott blocked them with his shield and with the hilt of his axe, managing to repel his opponent for enough time to get his share of hits.

“You’re using the wrong side of the axe, man!” Skizzle pointed out after being beat a few times with the non-lethal side of Scott’s weapon, which he was using his armored forearms to fend off.

“Would you rather me use the other?” Scott replied.

They went back and forth in a struggle to gain control of their respective fights, of which had seen them travel to the corner of the Hobbits’ walls where two hills flattened out and created an amphitheater with a perfect stage in the center.

The metallic clashing of weapons filled the area, Skizzle managed to wrap Scott in a chokehold, the shield had been thrown to the sidelines amongst the struggle, with a blade growing ever nearer to his throat. Scott held off the oncoming sword by brute strength alone, his hand braced against his opponent’s forearm and shook with the effort.

“This is it for you,” Skizzle strained, “no more games,” he said.

Scott answered with a war cry. He knocked the other’s chest with his elbow and threw both of them forwards a bit, just enough to wriggle free and get away from the blade. While Skiz wasn’t guarding his midsection, Scott jabbed the handle of his weapon into the space between Skiz’s chest plate and armored leggings.

A breathless cough was all that came from the man behind him, followed by a drawn out whine, then a satisfying thud and the clunking of armor as it fell into the snow.

There was no place to celebrate his victory however, when a very angry, bloody nosed king strode up to the crime scene. Ren’s expression told Scott that he wasn’t a fun target to play with anymore. Tougher than he looked, perhaps.

The leader of Dogwarts trudged menacingly up to Scott, who made to raise his weapon but instead was greeted by a fist in his face. The force threw him to the ground, where Ren’s heavy red boot descended upon his chest. A blade sliced into the hard ground next to Scott’s ear. His axe was yanked from his hands and thrown somewhere behind them by Ren.

“Alright Major. Perhaps I underestimated your capabilities,” Ren practically spat, “It’s a shame really. You would have been such an attractive addition to the Red Army,” he said with a mocking sadness.

“That was supposed to be your sales pitch?” Scott strained.

Scott could feel rivulets of blood flowing down his face from his nostrils, it seeped into his mouth and tasted like he’d eaten iron shavings. His hands were clasped around Ren’s ankle and foot, trying to alleviate the stress that was on his rib cage. He liked being able to breathe after all.

“You’ve clearly proven too much for my army to handle,” Ren jerked Scott by the front of his shirt, as if he was the one to blame for his army’s failure.

“But I digress. I guess I’ll kill you now,” the Red King smiled down at him with a devious grin, and shoved him harshly to the ground.

Scott could see that his eyes were a striking yellow, set back in his head a bit so that they were perpetually shadowed by his eye sockets. Strands of white and brown hair fell around his face, and his right ear twitched upon his head.

His vision was swimming dangerously close to blacking out as Ren hoisted his weapon, a glimmering diamond axe with a gold accented handle, above his head. Scott shut his eyes and prepared for the cold hard inevitable when a loud POP ricocheted off the amphitheater walls. Followed by a dull plunk.

The axe fell from Ren’s hands like it was knocked away. He jumped like he’d been startled. His eyes were blown wide, and Scott thought he might look scared.

Ren raised a shaky hand to his right shoulder, turning it a bit so he could see, he gently touched the surface of his arm. His fingertips came back covered in a layer of blood.

He began to slowly turn around, Scott sat up on his elbow to follow his line of sight.

Standing in the entrance to the amphitheater, in the snow that had been disturbed by the previous altercation, was a furious looking Jimmy.

His hunting rifle was still raised and aimed at the Red King, smoke poured from the barrel and floated into the frigid air.

Ren stood up and faced Jimmy, an out of place smile gracing his countenance.

“Well! Looks like we have a full party now, I was wondering when the special guest was going to show up,” he teased.

“Your little friend here put up quite the fight,” Ren took Scott by the back of his hood and lifted him out of the obfuscating layer of snow.

“You just don’t stop talking do you,” Jimmy said sternly. He didn’t move an inch, and his finger was poised on the trigger of his father’s old gun.

Ren had stopped talking. He resorted to staring down his nose at the other man.

“Get out of my walls, Ren,” Jimmy demanded.

“Now hold on dude, we’re not finished here,” Ren prefaced.

“No, I think we are done here!” Jimmy raised his voice.

“You’re going put him down right now,” he ordered, “take your men, and leave my home,” Jimmy yelled.

“Or what?” Ren asked, although it was more of a last ditch effort than a promise of more to come.

“Or I aim for your head next time,” Jimmy deadpanned.

Ren chewed his bottom lip pensively, seeming to consider his options before rendering himself rightfully defeated. He nodded curtly, and tossed the battered Scott at Jimmy’s feet. He strode over to Skizzle and kicked him encouragingly in the side, gathering him up and then going to retrieve Martyn, whom he had Skizzle sling over his shoulder.

The Red Musketeers vacated the Hobbit’s walls, going through the door they broke down on the way in. Jimmy kept his rifle trained on them until he was sure they weren’t coming back. Then he turned back to Scott, shakily flipping the safety of the rifle back on.

“Scott,” Jimmy called out, “hey, can you hear me?” it was too familiar.

“I’m fine,” Scott assured; but his husband wasn’t having it. He took the other’s face in his hands gently and assessed the damage.

“I think you have a concussion,” Jimmy observed.

“I think I could have used your help a bit earlier,” Scott joked, but Jimmy didn’t smile, “I mean I knew you were a heavy sleeper but this is ridiculous”, he added.

Jimmy helped him up and he wobbled a bit before taking in the scene he’d made. A clear path of action stretched from the front door of Jimmy’s house to the Western Wall where the amphitheater was. Some of the snow was red with blood.

Jimmy took Scott’s arm and pulled him into a half embrace, “let’s go back inside. You’re freezing,” he whispered.

“Wait,” Scott said.

He started sifting through the snow, eventually pulling out the axe he’d stolen from Martyn. Ren had retrieved his and Skiz’s weapons before leaving. He held it up and flipped it over in his hands a few times gleefully. Then, he trudged over to Jimmy’s front door and found Ren’s discarded shades under some red stained snow. The right lens was cracked down the middle, hairline fractures branched off of it.

He held the sunglasses up for Jimmy to see with a proud grin, waving them around in the air.

“How’d you manage that?” Jimmy asked, dumbfounded.

“I went like BAP!” Scott articulated as he pretended to head butt Jimmy to demonstrate, “and they must have come right off! Look at that, a perfect trophy,” he bragged.

“You know, I didn’t question why he wasn’t wearing them because I didn’t think that even he was enough of a dick to wear sunglasses in the dead of night,” Jimmy said.

“Now, inside,” he pointed to the door.

#kingslayer au #half the server is in this one boys #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #rendog #inthelittlewood #skizzleman #cas types

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

Note

Do you perhaps have some Jekshire thoughts you could share? I cannot get enough of this unfortunately very niche ship.

Hehe hehehe heheheheehhehe hehehhe heh <3

I... Might have gone a bit off board with this but hehe... Somehow this ended up being mostly about how they got together and the beginning of their relationship but??? eh <3

While Henry hadn't really realized his bisexuality until he met Robert and immediately felt ashamed by it, Enoch had always had a hum about his bisexuality. Except, of course, he chalked it up to him and his pals just being bros. Just pals being dudes. Lads being guys. Nothing unusual with that. Although when he did realize that maybe he thought guys looked... Ahem, better than most other guys would think, he just shrugged it off and didn’t give a single shit about it, though <3

Enoch was one of the first persons that Henry saw when he entered London for the first time; Enoch was an officer-in-training patrolling the London borders with his higher-ups, and Henry was an eager student about to make his way straight to the University campus. They shared a short glance and Enoch couldn't help but feel like Henry was awfully cute, although he didn't even catch those thoughts himself.

It's no secret that Henry-- as a young, successful doctor, bachelor, and just generally a good and attractive person-- has a lot of people that has a crush on him, yet he doesn't notice that himself. He catches people's heart like they are flies flocking to his light, Enoch was no different, although it took a handful of more encounters with him in their latter years for him to realize that. Henry remained blissfully unaware.

Enoch has always been good at hiding his emotions and keeping them away from his workplace, but when he came back from a patrol after just having ran into Dr. Jekyll and shared a brief chat with him, it was not hard for the other officers to notice that something was... Hm, unusual with Brokenshire that day.

It took only a handful of more solo patrols and Enoch coming back like he had just gotten a red-faced spring allergy with soft grumbling for Jenkins and Wipple realize he kept meeting an object of his affections. Cue a lot of teasing. Cue a lot of protests from Brokenshire. Cue a lot of drunkenly getting his feelings out to his friends by simply making it seem like Henry is a married woman that Enoch accidentally had fallen for. Cue a lot of sympathy and even more teasing.

So if he suddenly had a lot of solo patrols by the Society, then he would just say it was his sheer luck.

He ends up accidentally running into Henry a lot. Henry always seems pleasantly delighted and surprised. Enoch can never really help but feel extremely giddy about it.

They never really formally became friends until they both attended an event held by the commissioner. Both being close friends to their mutual associate, the two of them ended up running into each other again quite quickly.

Or more like, Henry saw Brokenshire standing in a corner, dressed in his finest (and only) formal suit while sipping wine. It had taken exactly half a moment for Henry to completely abandon whatever friends he had been chatting up to make his way over to the lonely sergeant. A sergeant who very much tried to hide his blush and fluster while trying to not choke on his wine.

They ended up casually talking for the first time during that event, they both learned a lot about each other-- Henry often spoke of Glasgow with Brokenshire, who’s family had immigrated from Edinburgh to London before he was born.

While they started casually talking during the event, they soon began to spend more time together. Enoch quickly learned that Henry’s reputation of being someone who very much will talk someone’s ears off wasn’t an overstatement, yet he found it quite endearing. Soon Enoch would find himself accompanied by the doctor during his lonely patrols in Westminster, and soon Henry found himself getting escorted to his meetings by a particularly bored sergeant who always seemed to catch him at the right time.

It really did not take long for Enoch to realize why the commissioner was so fond of Henry, and it really did not take long for his sudden crush on the other man to get a bit overwhelming.

Henry, meanwhile, had been too caught up with the actual events of TGS to fully notice his own growing fondness for the sergeant. Or more like, he saw the signs but refused to confront them in fear of repeating what happened to him and Robert... And, well, falling for a police officer who wants another part of him dead.

That plan went straight to hell. Henry soon caught himself following the sergeant like an affectionate puppy, and his little love-sickness was quickly noticed by a handful of Lodgers who desperately wanted to know who had managed to get suck a reaction out of him. The fact that Henry was suddenly spending more and more time with Enoch seemed to go completely unnoticed by everyone.

Neither of them really realized their feelings for each other until Brokenshire found Henry stumbling down the street one night; his body was beaten and bruised, his clothes were torn, and he had just managed to escape a nasty bar-fight that Hyde had gotten him into. It was just his luck that he had managed to escape enough to get some HJ7 into him. Enoch had decided that the Society or the hospital were both too far away, so he took him into the station instead. Yet he merely told the other officers to find the offenders while he patched up Henry.

It was certainly unprofessional of him to place Henry down on his own chair in his office before gently placing the palm of his coarse hand on the other’s cheek as he began to clean the wounds and the dried blood from the nosebleed, and yet neither could say that they minded. Something about having Enoch’s large hand on his sensitive face made Henry melt into the touch, something about seeing Henry’s eyes flutter close at the careful touches got Enoch’s heart beating faster and faster.

Henry had been... Quite out of it, so to speak. Enoch had not known if it was because he was horribly drunk or had suffered a nasty hit to the head, but as he carefully began to question him about what had happened, the way Henry would almost grin and tilt his head upwards (almost as if he was proud of it) got a completely unnecessary blush to reach Enoch’s cheeks.

Enoch helped Henry back to the Society, and yet he could not keep himself from visiting the next morning. “Just to make sure he is fine”, he had told himself. Well, the Lodgers did not believe that, and poor hangover Henry woke up to the sound of a lot of yelling from the foyer. The Lodgers were too busy trying to shoo the sergeant (who was off-duty, mind you) to notice the doctor. Enoch noticed him immediately and yet he hated how his heartbeat began to pick up again.

It all ended up with Henry inviting Enoch into his office for a bit of tea... Which, in itself, ended up with the two of them sitting closer to each other than probably should have been socially acceptable. Neither could deny that it probably wasn’t the steaming tea that warmed them up, neither could deny that their companion was looking too good for their own good in that soft morning light.

Henry was too hungover to really think straight, soon they ended up gazing at each other and neither could look away. Suddenly Henry felt himself coming closer, he heard how Brokenshire’s breath hitched, yet neither pulled away. They noses brushed together, both knew that they should probably pull away, and neither did. In the end, it was Enoch who placed his hand on Henry’s cheek and closed the distance between them.

Enoch and Henry didn’t leave the office for hours. Both could consider themselves lucky that Enoch had a day off and Henry had nothing scheduled.

Ahaha anyways time for some actual hcs about this ship.

Enoch is very protective of Henry. Like, stupidly protective, and yet he always makes sure that he never overwhelm Henry with it. He just worries a lot for his lover and especially since he knows what a cruel world they live in and how terrible Henry is at taking care of and loving himself. Henry thinks it’s quite sweet, especially just because he thinks it’s nice to have a lover who actually cares about him.

Both Enoch and Henry love dogs. Enoch does not bat an eye at church grims. Rachel had to physically restrain both of them from adopting an entire graveyard filled with church grims after many of the smaller churches in London were destroyed to make way for new apartments.

Cuddles. SO much cuddles. Neither are big at PDA or physical affection otherwise but jesus christ so many cuddles. It goes to the point where neither can sleep without the other, so Henry has to constantly sneak out of the Society (or his own house) to get to Enoch’s apartment since he doesn’t want to risk his servants or the Lodgers getting suspicious. Enoch always waits for him with a cup of peppermint tea for him when he comes by during the night.

Henry has a thing for men in uniform. That’s it. That’s the post /hj.

Enoch is the only person that Henry feels comfortable actually slipping into his Scottish accent with. He doesn’t try to stop it when he is incredibly tired or incredibly drunk because in the end, it wasn’t like Enoch didn’t have a thick accent all the time.

Surprisingly, Enoch is the one that has to patch Henry up a lot. For being a doctor, he really has no idea how to take care of himself or how to deem a wound serious enough to treat, or potions dangerous enough to not test on himself. Enoch always patches him up and Henry always melts into his hands like an ice-cube by a candle. By the rare instances that Enoch does get hurt while on duty, he loves watching Henry fretting over him.

(Plus, he can freely demand as many kisses as he wants when he is bedridden because Henry can’t complain about it).

They are the same height-- or Enoch is slightly taller, but Henry wears heeled shoes so they don’t really notice until Henry takes the shoes off and suddenly he feels like Enoch became a goddamn tree. Enoch loves those moments more than he could possibly describe.

Enoch manhandles Henry a lot. He stays up late and refuses to go to bed? Enoch throws him over his shoulder and takes him to bed. Henry is teasing him or they are play fighting? Henry squeals as he suddenly get picked up bridal style. Enoch is incredibly strong and Henry weighs like... Nothing. Plus, his squeals are incredibly endearing.

Sometimes Enoch will wake up in the morning only to see Henry already awake playing with Ralphie and Zosi, and sometimes Enoch will swear that Henry only started dating him to steal his dog.

(Henry will only partially deny that).

Wipple and Jenkins once went on a surprise visit to Enoch’s apartment, having gotten a spare key each “for emergencies” (or more like for whenever they feel like annoying their friend). The first thing they saw was Henry and Enoch cuddled up on the couch. Enoch politely told them to get out of his apartment and not speak of this. For once, Wipple and Jenkins kept to that promise (although they did tease him a lot afterwards but hell, if their friend is just going to around dating a man like that it sure as hell should be someone they like as much as Dr. Jekyll).

Somehow, they managed to keep their relationships quite a well-kept secret for many, many years. People only started to get suspicious when both the doctor and the sergeant conveniently retired at the same time and moved out of London. They took their pick-pack and moved into a manor at the outskirts of Edinburgh, forgetting their past life in London. They still kept in touch with their old friends, however, who often came to their home on vacation during the summers.

Just let me have Enoch becoming a grumpy old gay and Henry the tired old gay and just let me have them be happy pls <3

Oohoohohh. Give me tired old Enoch and Henry-- both with grey hair and wrinkled faces-- finding a young orphan on the streets when they are buying the groceries. Give me 60/70+ year old Enoch and Henry becoming dads <3<3<3

#hehe i spent. My entire morning almost writing this. its 2pm #well to be fair i did have classes inbetween writing this but <3 #ask #aimless--photography #tgs #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs henry jekyll #tgs brokenshire #tgs sergeant brokenshire #the glass scientists jekyll #the glass scientists henry jekyll #the glass scientists brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant brokenshire #tgs jekshire #the glass scientists jekshire

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

Could you write something where Rosaria gets blackout drunk to forget about a nightmare she had of her trauma and Diluc helps her home and takes care of her when she wakes up with a hangover?

Here you go! I wrote it as before they became a 'thing', jsyk.

( i struggled too much with any other way of doing it so.... yah. its so bad )

[[ WARNING: HEAVY ALCOHOL ABUSE, TALK OF SEX ]]

[[ Summary: Simply wanting to protect his homeland, he found himself with less and less to do, until a certain sister, walked by, absolutely wasted, and decided to take up his free time.

Word Count: 2'154 ]]

sAnother abyss mage, disappearing into little shards of light and magic, that collapsed to the ground, and slowly...

Gone.

Dead.

Back to the ley lines.

They had been less prominent lately, likely after everything with Stormterror, or rather, Dvalin, and a selfish part of his mind asked him what are you going to do with yourself now?

He didn't really know, but that wasn't the point, brutally silencing that part of his mind, throwing his claymore to the side and, it too, disappeared. Gone and out of sight, until needed again.

The sound of heels on the stone ground of Mondstadt's paths caught his attention... It didn't sound threatening, in fact, the footsteps were far from rhythmic, reminding him of a drunkard who couldn't put one foot in front of the other, likely just about to break their teeth by crashing face-first to the stone.

Instead, there was a thud, but it was quite gentle... And then the footsteps began once again.

Not wanting to have an idiot crack their skull open on the ground, he followed the sound, until he saw a woman, leaning against a building, her head nodding as though she was too drunk to keep it up straight...

Actually, it probably was that, wasn't it?

As he approached, she lifted her head, and an odd, delirious smile fell on her face.

"Hey strawberry man..." She said, slurred, "What's a naughty little business man like you..." Hiccup, '... Doing out so late?"

He examined her clothes... He knew her, Rosaria. Not well, but she was just as much of a drunk as his own brother, and a faint memory of a time he'd rather let die... He was bound to learn her name, and the bare minimum about her.

"Stopping drunks like you from getting killed." He huffed, grabbing her arm, she tugged to try and get her arm away, but it was a lazy attempt that resulted in nothing. "Let's get you back to the Church." He declared, attempting to foist her onto his back, but she just whined at him,

"Nooo... The sisters...' hiccup, "Are bitches... They're just going to yell at meeee..." She flopped onto his back, arms wrapping around him from behind, "Bring me to your place, I'll make it worth your while..."

A slutty sister. He vaguely remembers seeing a piece of erotica like that in Kaeya's room when they were younger...

He shuddered... Then sighed.

She wasn't safe to be left alone... But she also likely wouldn't go back to the Church, or at least, she wouldn't stay there.

It couldn't hurt, could it? He had no intention of taking advantage of her, in fact, he'd probably just stick her in his bed, stay up doing paperwork in his office for the rest of the night, and tell her she absolutely lost it in her inebriation, and that he's not going to 'save her' from herself again.

... seeing how she clung to him, there wasn't really an option, was it? She'd probably cling like a puppy.

"Fine. But you are not to touch me... Below the belt." He said, carefully.

"Oh," she giggled deliriously, "I know how to make anyone squirm just from their neck... Trust me..."

"And stop talking."

She whined, but technically, whining wasn't talking.

So, he lifted her up, carrying her on his back (since she seemed to be content with her face pressed to his upper back) and began walking.

At least it was a good workout, he thought miserably.

...

By the time he got home, a few things happened.

Rosaria had fallen asleep, snored right into his ear, and rain threatening to come.

She then woke up and started singing some horrifyingly bastardized versions of the songs the Church considered holy.

It was almost liberating, in a way, to hear such a thing... He had never been particularly religious, but the Church were oftentimes quite...smothering in their methods.

Not that he would go out of his way to comment on it, not believing it a worthwhile conversation for he himself to have.

Finally to the Vineyard, Rosaria apparently decided that she was content here, stumbling as she tried to take some of the grapes for herself, he all but dragging her inside before she did something truly unforgivable, even if she whined.

"I'm tired..." She said, softly, "I'm so tired of sleeping on the ground. It's cold."

Diluc raised a brow at her, seeing how she seemed... possibly genuinely upset.

"You won't be sleeping on the ground, you'll have a warm bed." He, awkwardly, tried to comfort her, and her expression lit up.

"Really?"

"Yes. Just... follow me. You'll be sleeping alone, however?"

Rosaria stared at him oddly, but managed to walk on her own, despite her stumbling, and he brought her to the room, she gasping near-silently as she saw his big, soft bed, running to it, half tripping over herself as she fell onto the bed, "Ohh... soft... All it's missing... is a kitty."

A kitty.

"Well, I do not own a kitty. Let me..."

He grabbed her leg, removing her shoes--while he knew that he would be too disturbed to do anything but thoroughly wash the bedding the next day, he did not tolerate anyone wearing shoes into bed in the Winery.

... Huh, for a moment, he was reminded of his father. The apple only falls so far from the tree, after all.

"Hehe," Rosaria giggled, undoing those odd claw-like ordaments on her hands, throwing her headdress across the room, and reaching for Diluc--"C'mere."

He wasn't sure why he was humoring her, but after setting her shoes on the ground beside the bed, he leaned over...

And with a shocking amount of force, she grabbed him, rather, hugged him, and then threw them both to the bed, her face hidden in his chest as she held onto him with a vice grip, "Kitty kitty," She said, words muffled into his coat.

"I'm not--"

Snore.

He tried to pry her off of him, astounded by how she was already asleep and snoring softly, but every attempt was met with only more crushing force onto his ribcage...

...

He sighed.

For some reason, he had a feeling that... she wasn't exactly a threat. Not like this, not to him. Not right now.

So... he sat there. After a few long moments of his mind barely even thinking of anything beyond wondering what had wrought her mind so that brought her to this point, he tried again...

No. She was clinging on, tight. And, well, this was easier to deal with than a drunk and loud woman.

...

Dawn could not come sooner.

... ... ...

Rosaria woke up with her head pounding, so bad she almost wondered if she had a nosebleed, running her thumb under her nose... Nothing. Well, nothing more than the slightest trace of drool, as gross as it was, she must've knocked out hard to be at this point.

But, she realized she was not in the Church. The bedding beneath her was soft, comforting...

...

Hm.

She probably slept with some random bloke and blacked out in his bed. Her hand trailed to her crotch, resting just above it, just below her navel...

No, no, she didn't. Afterwards, especially if she herself did not clean up, she was always... filthy. But she was clean. Maybe he was just particularly kind, and skilled, and had gone out of his way to care for her... Or maybe she...

After clearing her throat, it wasn't raspy, it didn't hurt... Maybe she had a night with some woman, instead? But the morning-after breath, the bitter taste on her tongue just wasn't there.

Well, it was over, and hopefully they were as clean as she was.

Standing up, she saw her own faux claws on the ground with her headdress, and her shoes... Picking them all up and putting them on, she walked to the window, pulling the curtain out of the way...

She nearly hissed at the bright light, letting it stay closed, and she instead turned to the main doorway of the room, deciding she'd either just leave, or find whoever owned the place and ask if there's anything she needed to know before she left...

But the door opened, and she froze, seeing a figure...

... Bright red hair, pale skin, with the faintest hint of freckles that most could never see.

Diluc. She never thought she'd see him ever again.

For a long moment, there was a silence between the two of them...

"... I figured you had a hangover and made breakfast. Come."

He still seemed to be as kind as Barbara insisted he was. She was impressed.

She followed him as he went ahead, looking around curiously... The fine decoration, distant scent of wine... The winery. No wonder the bed was so lovely and soft. However, she wouldn't expect a man who had been put in such a position to...

...

Well, when she wasn't absolutely shitfaced, trying to stop hearing the voices that haunted her in the dark, she was usually pretty good at convincing people she was sober when she absolutely wasn't.

They got to the kitchen, and Diluc went out of his way to begin preparing her plate for her- It was a pretty typical brunch, rather than breakfast, and it all seemed quite well made... Minus the hashbrowns, she'd probably just force it down or not touch it.

He pulled out her chair for her, and she chuckled, "What a gentleman," She said, with a fake smile on her face, letting him push her seat in, taking a bite...

It was quite good. It had been... a long time since she had a warm meal. Maybe she was a little bit touched that someone would make a hot meal, just for her.

"So," She said, after swallowing the first bite, "Do you have any diseases? I'd rather not get shamed by the sisters when getting tested if you're clean."

There was a moment of motionless, and he turned to look at her--She just noticed his hair was down... he almost looked like he had the mane of a fluffy kitty. Heh.

"I'm clearly not sick." He said, a little huffy, and she sighed.

"I mean sexual diseases. All this is payback for a good night, ri-"

There was the sound of shattering, and she pushed herself to her feet--

Diluc was staggering, and he managed, somehow, to look even a shade paler.

"We- We did nothing!" He snapped, and then stood up, "Fin-finish your meal, I... I can handle this."

She hesitated, but sat back down...

Somehow, she wasn't surprised he would act like this, but... "We didn't fuck?"

"No," He sounded... strangled. "We did nothing. You wouldn't go to the Church when drunk, I brought you here, and you dragged me into bed and fell asleep with... no... touching."

Does the word hurt your tongue, little boy?

"Huh," She put a forkful of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, "I guess you're a real gentleman."

"I'm not a gentleman." He insisted, the gentle sound of shards clicking together as he swept it up, "I'm just a decent person."

"Decent people don't bring strangers to stay in their homes."

"You're not a stranger."

...

Well. That wasn't... wrong.

She didn't have anything to say, and went back to eating, as he finished cleaning whatever shattered when he tripped like that... Guess there was a reason she didn't feel gross or achy or messed up. She felt... well, better rested than she had in the past few months, and the shock of it all had made her hangover seem so... distant, even if it threatened to come back.

Shoving the last of the food in her mouth, she downed it and took a big drink of water to force it down, and stood. "Well, I'm sure you want me out of your hair--" "Do you need medicine?" He asked, idly.

"Medicine?"

"For your... headache, migraine, whatever you feel during a hangover. I don't have much experience with those."

She looked at him for a moment.

"I'm alright. The meal was enough. But I'll let you get back to whatever a winery owner has to do."

"... Try not to get drunk like that again," Diluc chided, gently, "I don't want to think about what would of happened if I didn't find you."

She chuckled, taking a few steps towards him, grabbing his chin and angling his face to look down at her.

"What a gentleman. And what if I misbehave? And drink anyway?"

He stared at her... blankly.

"It sounds like you're challenging me to take care of you."

"Is it working?" She asked, bemused... "Oh, don't worry, I'll be a good girl. See you next time."

"I dread the next time."

She couldn't help but smile as she found her way out of the winery...

Well, at least he still seemed to have some life in him, after all that's happened.

#genshin impact #diluc #rosaria #rosaluc #diluc x rosaria #anonymous #angst #angsty bark #// eh #request #bark writes #// this rlly wasnt the request but #// i literally couldnt do it any other way

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yummysweetroll · 3 years

Photo

So cold, so Warm.

Butch's pipboy made a soft static sound. For a few days now, nothing connected in that frequency, not even a cry for help or even that annoying Sugarbombs advertisement, just silence ... And that was a bad sign, after all, it is an indication that there was no settlement or big city in the next few miles of road and all Anna wanted most on this cold night, was now to sleep in a bed with a frayed mattress from any inn.

See more here! ⤵⤵

The radio was still hissing when the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. The night fog still lingered, making it difficult to see while keeping everything chilly. Anna shivered with cold, trying to cover herself with the Tunnel Snakes jacket and scarf, while Butch buried his nose in his scarf and muttered under his breath. Thank heavens, for a few days ago they helped a family and they offered some warm clothing as a reward. Turning her arm a little, the girl checked her pip-boy, March 20, the first day of spring.

"Butch, today is the first day of spring!" -She commented trying to liven up the walk -

"Yeah? And ?!" - Butch replied back looking out of the corner of his eye-

“Sooo, I thought maybe, we'll feel less cold on the road… And they say it's time for flowers and birds.” - ignoring her road partner's initial bad mood-

“And what difference does that make now, Nosebleed? We are going north, it will get colder each day and there will be only snow! It is simple, or have you forgotten Broch's classes? Besides, do you think we will find some beautiful flowering field with birds and bees in this nuclear desolation? You're too naive "- He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed at Anna-" If it weren't for your idiocy of wanting to compensate for the Tin Brotherhood, we could be in Rivet City, in that warm room.

Anna snorted, of course she remembered the annoying geography lessons! She also remembers the conversations the two had, about the world outside the Vault and the times they received punishments for talking about it ... And now that they're being able to make everything real and make all the punishments count, he wants to keep his butt in that rusty bathtub? In a place that resembles and feels the same claustrophobic feeling that was the vault? Besides, why flying so many grumpy words at her? Was the cold her fault? Didn't he understand how much debt she owed to the Brotherhood of Steel? They saved her!

"Shut up! If you wanted to be comfortable so much, then you should have stayed in the Vault. Sure you would be warm and living the same life! You came because you wanted to, I didn't ask to follow me. I just thought that… ”- The girl's voice gave a little hesitation and a lump in her throat was installed, along with some tears-“ Damn it, Deloria! ”

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but before he even said anything, Anna stepped up and disappeared into the mist. The boy stopped walking and called her a few times, but there were no answers. What did he do this time? His mind ran through his last sentences, did Anna think he regretted accompanying her? Does she think it's her fault for things going wrong? He had no doubts about that.

"Moron." -That was the only word that crossed Butch's head as he advanced through the fog after the girl. Since when she completed her father's project and woke up in the Brotherhood hospital, after that radiation bath and thank God with all her hair on her head, Anna started to blame herself for many things, be it the death of her father, the other scientists and even for the coma that the blond soldier finds himself in - "You idiot."

Turning off the Pip-boy, Butch managed to follow the small sounds of sobbing and it didn't take long to find the crouching girl crying behind a rut.

"Anna." - Butch called her seriously. And the way the girl's green eyes looked back at him, it looked like he wasn't expecting that. "Anna, are you going to tell me what's going on or are you playing hard to get?"

The girl swallowed her cry, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her scarf.

“II, B-Butch .... There is so much going on, so much problems that I have to solve and that almost always ends with someone I like injured or… dead. It is being difficult and too heavy to handle alone. - She paused to get her thoughts in order, Butch did not move or spoke in fear that she would stop talking - “And I don't want this anymore, I don't want to have to take responsibility for others, I don ' t want to decide the future of the world anymore. But I do everything the same, I don't change anything ... You're right to want to make up for it, and look at us now, it's really my fault that we're in this situation, for being away from home, for being hungry and cold, for having this stupid mission. Sorry Butch, I also wanted to be in River City ... But I also wanted to be on the road with you by my side, discovering and making all those detentions we took for dreaming about being here worthwhile. I'm sorry if I got you involved in my problems again. -She finished lowering her eyes again-

She let it all out, almost without pause. Her eyes cried again and Butch crouched down beside her and stroked her head. He sighed and as he put together a sentence, thoughts of her traveled a bit to when they lived in the vault. Since childhood, Butch had to deal with an Anna who lived under pressure to do what society or her father expected, always smiling and as if she were happy ... even if it was totally contrary to what she wanted and believed, And every time those tearful green eyes came to meet him, the boy did exactly as he did now, let her vent (even if he didn't hear much of the complaint) and stroked her head.

It is unknown how long the two stayed there, but it was long enough for Butch to think about something, the sobs to stop and all that morning fog to dissipate.

“Thank you,” replied Anna quietly, still buried in the scarf.

Butch smiled as he took Anna's hand and held it up. He knew that his "tough guy" pose was almost always undone when he saw her crying face ... After all, she was always his best friend and all that silly nonsense that the woman who married the priest comments on about soul mate.

“It's ok, Crybaby. Of course, I was mad at the cold, you know I hate cold ... But I'm glad I came with you, I learned a few things and met a lot of nice people. Besides, that's what I… sorry, we always wanted to do it! - Then he left his tender voice, to bring his traditional debauchery voice - And of course I couldn't leave an idiot like you alone here ... That's what I'm here for, because I can do a lot of things, shoot , stab, make you start to cry and stop and… ”

“Butchieeeee, you always destroy that romantic climate” - interrupted the girl with giggles, pushing him - And you always complain that I'm not "romantic enough".

Butch smiled smugly, of course there was more that the boy wanted to say to her. But at that moment, it was enough, probably because she wouldn't be able to get rid of this burden so fast.

A strong wind hit them and with his free arm Butch protected her as she hugged him back. When they opened their eyes they realized that the last remnants of mist had disappeared, presenting them with an image that they had only seen in black and white in the films or in the biology books ... A green field dotted with colorful flowers with a few birds flying over them. The two exclaimed in awe as they watched the rare landscape.

"And that talk about not having a place like that ?." - Anna commented softly-

"Shut up." - Butch replied smiling.

_____________________________________________________

Heey!

❤ Another drawing following the list of clothes and with a little story !! ❤

The truth is that this time it took me longer to write than to draw. 😥😥

Do you like posts like that? Do you think it's worth it?

That drawing came from this list!

✨ OC Outfit Doodle Asks ✨

I want to use this list to train poses, clothes and everything! So please, send an emoji from the list and I'll draw Butch and Anna!

#butch deloria #butch x lone wanderer #lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #Anna Maria #fallout OC #fallout 3 #fallout #Fallout Art #FO3 #FO3 OC #fallout fanart #Fanart #fallout fic #fanfic #OC #pipboy #cold temperature #warm heart

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Sick Days [BEN Drowned x Reader]

Summary: When a creepypasta manages to crawl into your home through a computer, people usually scream and call the police. You? Well, it's just another normal day for you.

Genre: Fluff, Horror, Humor

Date: June 20, 2015

-----

You sat in your room with the expression of utter boredom painted on your features, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on the table next to your open laptop. You grunted as your computer went into hibernation mode again and tapped the spacebar to reawaken the screen. Your bedroom window was wide open, allowing the evening breeze to float into your adobe and gently rustle the papers on your table. Fading streaks of sunlight peeked through your fluttering curtains, caressing your body with soft warmth.

Despite the serene atmosphere that had settled into your semi-messy room, your features were soon twisted into a grimace. The fingers that had been trailing along the table began drumming a steady rhythm, growing quicker and more impatient by the second. You glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and read the blaring red numbers 6:23 PM. You scowled, annoyed. "Ugh, where is that little rascal?" You muttered, tapping your keyboard again and watching irefully as your homescreen popped up again. Ben usually arrived before sundown, but the sun was already halfway down the horizon. Ben probably would've taunted you for being so worked up over his absence, and you, being a little short tempered, would probably fall for his teasing and would have exploded into a mess of jumbled profanities. Though many would describe your actions now as "eager," you recalled how petrified you were when Ben first popped out of the fossilized desktop your dad insisted they brought when your family moved. That day, your mother and father had been visiting a sick relative in the hospital, and couldn't come home for the night. You, feeling free and a little daring, decided to stay up the entire night watching horror flicks in your livingroom. Although you felt the terror of eight marathoned horror movies shake you to your core, you persisted, jumping at every little noise from the movie and from your creaky home. That's why, when you witnessed the forgotten computer in the corner of the livingroom fizz and flicker on and off, you froze in unfathomable fear, merely staring as a deathly pale hand clawed it's way out of a jumble of binary code and pixels. By the time a head of tousled white hair and pitch black eyes with crimson irises emerged from the screen, you were already halfway out the door, knowing better than to trap yourself in your own bedroom. You would've spent the night at a neighbor's house, but your closest neighbor must have been at least a mile away- being that your family decided to move into the suburbs. Unfortunately for you, who was secluded in the pitch black of the night with god-knows-what in your house, it was pouring outside. In your mad scramble for salvation, you had not grabbed the keys to your house. You had originally settled for the plan to stay in the freezing rain, (it was definitely a safer bet than being in the house) but alas, the hours spent watching scary movies finally took its toll on you, and had made you paranoid to every small rustle and crunch. (In truth, it was just the trees.) This terror had driven you to crawl up some old growths of ivy on the side of your home, feeling blessed to find your bedroom window open just a crack- allowing you to pry the rest of the window open. Halfway through your window, you looked up- only to become blatantly horrified. There the white-haired boy was, floating in the middle of the room with bleeding eyesockets- as if he had been waiting for your arrival. Overcome with panic and surprise, you allowed the wet soles of your feet slip out from under you, sending your drenched body sailing face-first towards the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your nose took the brunt of the fall, and erupted in a mess of blood upon impact. The pain of a shattered nose did little to deter you from the thing in your room. Holding your nose with both hands, you scrambled to press yourself against the wall- as far away from that demon-ghost-thing as possible. But when you looked back up, you were shocked to find it trying desperately to hold back laughter, it's eye twitching from the effort. The corner of it's mouth was twitching toward a smirk, and it's eyes were betraying it's stoic expression- it wanted to laugh at you! You shot to your feet, prepared to duke it out with the hovering monster- only to slip a second time on the rainwater that you had tracked into your room. This time, your head collided hard with the frame of your bed, and you blacked out. You woke up the next morning with a wrapped head and a bandaged nose. It turns out your parents had returned from their little trip and found you lying in a puddle of your own nosebleed- which sounds as humiliating as it felt- and had patched you up. After you told them about what you had seen, your parents merely laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the head, claiming that the stress of moving and lack of sleep had to do with your "hallucinations." You would've believed them, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy showed up in your room again. You fell asleep while using your laptop and when you awoke, you found the pale-haired boy freeing his foot from your computer screen. Though you were sure that the white-haired monster returned to finish you off, you found him simply pointing his finger at your wrapped up face and cackling at you, tears budding in the gaping holes that were his eyes. You felt your face burn with embarrassment, and though you should have called for help, you simply sat there, allowing the strange being to laugh at your misfortune. After what felt like an eternity he retreated back into your computer, still snickering- leaving you bewildered and dazed. He later introduced himself as Ben Drowned over a cyberchat website named "Cleverbot," and you learned his story, as well as the fact that he could teleport just about anywhere that held an electronic device. Later that night, you awoke to a flooded room. With your heart pummeling with fear, you gasped and flailed for breath, desperately searching for a way out. You were less than pleased to find Ben on the screen on your open laptop- which was, for some reason, still working under water. His shoulders shook with muted laughter, doubling over with the hilarity he found in your pitiful predicament. As soon as it started, it was gone. The water that had once filled your room was gone, leaving everything unscathed in it's wake. Once you found mobility in your limbs again, you stormed to your laptop (which still contained the laughing freak) and took out the battery, taking away the laptop's source of life. You stormed about your house, rampaging in the middle of the night to turn off or unplug any source of electricity you could- the phones, the computers, televisions- even the dusty desktop. Despite the complaints of your confused parents, you were at peace. Since you had cut off any source of electricity, (other than the lights) that pesky elf hadn't bothered you- probably because he couldn't. However, your happiness was short-lived. Upon returning from school one day, you found that your parents had somehow reconnected everything before going to work- leaving you with two things: electricity, and an angry Ben. You had no idea how you did it, but you managed to convince Ben not to suck you into the netherworld or kill you- With minimal damage to the house. Before you placated him, Ben had flown into a livid tantrum, tossing tables and pictures to-and-fro with some unseen force, only ceasing when you promised that you would keep all electronics plugged in- thus allowing him to drop in any time he liked. Since then, the white haired boy with red irises visited routinely each day without intentions to scare you, though you were still unnerved by his presence at first. As if he sensed your uneasiness, Ben began to annoy you. Ceaselessly. Day after day, he knocked over decorative vases, messed up your room, taunted your occasional bad grades, and in all: irked the hell out of you. Yet here you were, waiting for his arrival like some kind of goddamned puppy. "What. Ever." You hissed through clenched teeth, standing up from your computer table, "Maybe he got bored of me. He's been visiting me for... God knows how long already...Good riddance." Despite your words, you felt a twinge of sadness prick your heart like a fine-tipped needle. Though he was undoubtedly aggravating most of the time, you had liked him company. Just a little. You sighed, the beams of twilight cast your shadow across the floor. "I should prepare some microwaveable dinner, my parents are working overtime today." As you sulked slowly towards your bedroom door, a loud crash and the sound of loud static pierced your eardrums, making you leap several feet into the air and scramble for the doorknob, storming downstairs to find the source of the noise. You were both annoyed and relieved to find Ben crawling out of the screen of the old desktop, though your annoyance went out the window once you spotted his shaking arms on the edge of the screen, as if he couldn't support his own weight. You extended a hand out to him, flinching as he finally managed to haul himself out of the mess of codes, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ben?" You inquired, peering at his crumpled form. "Are you okay...?" You knelt down next to him, touching his shoulder gently. "Ben?" At your voice, the creepypasta turned to look at you weakly before sniggering quietly- which worried you a bit. "What are you doing in my house?" You raised an eyebrow. "Ben, this is my house. Not yours." Ben, who had a pinkish hue to his pale cheeks, took a look around before the realization dawned upon him. "Oh, right. I'll be going then." You watched as the usually boisterous entity struggled to get back onto his feet, only to fall down again. This time, however, you caught him. Once his body made contact with your arms, you nearly shrieked. The back of his neck was burning hot, and the rest of his body was strangely warm- just like an overheated computer. "Ben-" You adjusted your hold on him, (he was a lot heavier than he looked) "Ben, are you sick?" Ben glared at you weakly. "No." You sighed, exasperated. His pride was going to be the death of him one day. You placed a gentle palm his forehead, cringing at the impossibly high temperature you felt. "Ben, you have a high fever. A bad one." The said person clicked his tongue and turned his face away, looking irritated. "That explains why I felt like shit the whole day." You couldn't help but snicker as you carried him to the couch, "That also explains why you didn't think of visiting me today." "Get off your high-fucking-horse, princess." Ben scowled, trying in vain to look threatening. "You should be thankful that I visit you everyday." You rolled your eyes, placing him softly on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for gracing me with your presence everyday, dumbass." You swore you heard Ben grumble something under his breath, but you were already too far up the stairs to hear. You returned with several pillows, a thermometer and some pills from the bathroom cabinet, determined to nurse Ben back to health. Though he was an annoying turd most of the time, there were rare moments where he comforted you in times of need- though most of the time, his offers to help just involved murdering someone, which you kindly refused. ("Killing people isn't the solution to everything, you freaking moron!") Now, it was your turn to help him. With an abundance of pillows in your arms, you urged him to sit up for a second (which he did with an anguished groan) and slipped four or five behind him, ensuring his comfort. You went into the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water to drink with the medicine. To be honest, you weren't quite sure if human medicine worked on creepypasta such as Ben, but it was all you had. "Ben, come on, you need to take some medicine." He scoffed at you. "Get your Earth pills away from me. You know just as well as I do that those won't work for me." You knelt next to him on the floor next to the couch and uncapped the bottle, shaking two pills out of the container and nudging him up. "You're right. I don't know if it'll work, but it's the only thing I have, so just suck it up and take them." "Get away from me." He hissed. "Ben..." You said, your tone threatening, "Don't make me unplug everything again." At this, Ben's hollow eyes narrowed, the red specks of light in them piercing into your skull. "You wouldn't dare." You gulped, feeling a cold sweat accumulate at his intense gaze. You steeled yourself and glared right back at him. "Try me." Grudgingly, Ben accepted the pills and sat up. Before you could stop him, he threw the pills in his mouth and began to chew. You froze, holding the cup of water in your hand and staring at him with wide eyes. You had made the same mistake of chewing those pills when you were younger, prior to figuring out that you could use water to wash them down. To be frank, those pills could cause more damage than a fever if not taken with water- they were horrendously bitter, and nearly caused you to puke. Just as you thought, Ben gradually stopped chewing, turning even paler than he already was- if possible. Though his face showed no emotion, you could almost feel the bloodthirsty aura that washed off of him, obviously not too pleased with the taste. You wasted no time in shoving the glass of water in his hands, urging him to drink. The water was gone before you could even blink, and Ben held the front of your shirt with an intent of death in his eyes. "You-" He stuttered, his face tinted red from anger, "You-" You braced yourself for whatever might come, but surprisingly, the grip on your shirt loosened, and Ben flopped back down unceremoniously, letting the pillows swallow his lean body. "Oh, whatever... Why would humans invent something so horrible to heal a sickness? If anything, that just made me sicker..." You smiled nervously, feeling the slightest bit guilty. "Er, it's my fault... I should have told you about the water sooner..." Ben scowled faintly. "Damn right you should've." You whispered a low "sorry" before wringing the wet towel, placing the cool cloth on Ben's head. This pulled a sigh of satisfaction from his lips, his eyes fluttering closed with contentment. You uncapped the thermometer, clicking the "ON" switch before turning back to Ben. "One last thing before you rest, Ben. I need your temperature." Ben didn't even bother to open his eyes or complain- which surprised you. Without hesitation, he simply opened his mouth. You found yourself smiling endearingly at his actions: it was like handling a stubborn child- all you had to do was get past his hard shell. Taking Ben's temperature was a little bit of a struggle, since the digital screen glitched and spazzed out once it made contact with him. However, once you had taken his temperature, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. The little pixels, occasionally glitching, read "105.7° F. " After discovering this little fact, you urged him to sleep for a bit- feeling a bit panicked. After the third time of telling him to just relax and sleep, Ben snapped at you. "If you tell me to go to sleep one more time, I'll call Jeff up here and tell him to put you to sleep." Though you knew this was an empty threat, it still shut you up. You had heard a lot about Jeff the Killer, and though some of your friends were obsessed with him, you weren't too keen on meeting him. After turning on the fan in hopes to cool Ben down, you settled back next to him on the floor, watching his uneven breathing. After a few moments of staring, Ben's eyes snapped open, feebly glaring at you before it turned into a smirk. "Sweetheart, I know i'm good looking- but if you're gonna stare, at least do something that can excuse you from it." You blinked and furrowed your brows, feeling embarrassed but relieved. It sounded like he was feeling a bit better- but was that really a good thing for you? Silently, you lifted a hand and began combing it through his silvery hair, knocking his hat astray. However, Ben didn't seem to mind. In fact, he completely ignored his hat and turned away from you, as if he were hiding his face. Despite his best efforts, you spotted a pinkish tint on his cheeks that extended to his ears- and you were sure it wasn't because of the fever he had. You watched him with soft eyes and continued your small ministrations, wondering how he had gotten sick in the first place. Before long, Ben had fallen asleep to your touch and the low hum of the fan. Sighing breathily, you gave the sleeping boy a thoughtful look. You didn't understand why he had kept the routine of visiting you everyday, but you weren't about to complain. Moving was no easy task, it included making new friends and leaving the old ones behind. Your socializing skills weren't your strongest suit, and although you tried your best, it was difficult to keep a conversation with someone at school- you feared their judgement. Though you knew most of the people at school didn't mean any harm to you, it was still a little scary for you to be cast out into a new environment so suddenly, it made you feel vulnerable. And although Ben had scared the pants off of you at first, you slowly began to realize that your arguments and chats with him didn't make you tense or anxious. Perhaps you could even go as far as to say he made you the slightest bit happy. You continued to play with his hair for a little while before removing your hands, observing him carefully. It was true that Ben was relatively handsome, though you would rather die than admit that to him. His white hair and pale complexion gave him the look of a hauntingly beautiful angel, though his eyes were dark and devilish, always seeming to hold only the most malicious of intentions. While he was awake, his countenance was usually twisted into a smirk or a sneer- which didn't exactly make him more attractive, but definitely did not take away from it, either. However, as he was asleep, you couldn't help but notice how strikingly bewitching he looked without the usual grimace. His long, white eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones, colored pale pink with his fever. Though you hadn't noticed it previously, it was almost unnerving how captivating Ben was. With his sleek, graceful features relaxed, you almost wouldn't have been able to guess that he was such a cunning gremlin while he was awake. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering to his lips, which were slightly parted with his steady inhales and exhales. Just like the rest of his body, his lips were deathly pale, and slightly chapped- though they still looked inviting. You blushed and averted your eyes upon realizing how inappropriate your thoughts were. Ben was horribly sick and helpless, yet here you were, daydreaming about... A kiss... You covered your face, feeling humiliation wash over you in waves. Ben would probably laugh himself to death if he knew what you were thinking. The mere thought of being with Ben was impractical within itself, since there was no way monsters like him were even capable of feelings, right...? Your train of thought was halted when you heard the silverette groan lowly from across you. You peered out from your hands with questioning eyes, wondering if you had woken him up with the intensity of your staring. (Was that even possible, though?) He wasn't awake. His eyes were still sealed shut, but his mouth was twitching, as if he were trying to say something. You leaned in closer, watching attentively. Did he want water? A colder towel? More pillows? Suddenly, much to your shock, your name erupted from his lips, sounding like a cross between a groan of irritation and a plea. Then, he was silent again. You felt a warmness in your body emitting from the center of your stomach, and before long, you found yourself smiling at Ben. He was asleep, so it wouldn't hurt too much, right...? Slowly, you leaned forward and brushed back some of his soft locks, marveling at how pretty his face was. With such a small distance between you two, you could smell his scent- a distinct smell of static and coconut. Gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft, feverish skin on your own mouth. As you pulled away, you found a hand on the back of your head, pulling you back in. Wide eyes registered as Ben tilted his head, and his lips met yours, watching your bewildered expression with groggy, half-lidded eyes before he closed them, pressing his lips harder against your own. His mouth was burning hot, no doubt it was because of the fever, but it made the kiss even harder to resist. With flushed cheeks, you allowed your eyes to slip shut as well, returning the gentle pressure lightly. You noted that Ben was being unusually careful as he cupped your face, as if you were made of fragile glass that would shatter at any moment. You smiled at this, and brushed the side of his cheek with the back of your hand endearingly. He pulled away and you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word in, his lips descended upon yours again, his tongue sweeping over your already open lips and tickling the roof of your mouth. You squeaked a bit at this, and he pulled back, his hand still on your cheek, opening his eyes to take in your reddened face and light panting. And then you saw it. It surprised you more than the kiss did- and perhaps more than his first appearance did. Ben smiled. It was a genuine smile, albeit small, unlike the smirks and half-grins he gave you all the time. This time, his lips curled naturally, softening his scarlet eyes a twinge. The hues of twilight poured in from the window and washed over both of you, bathing both of you in a beautiful gradient of a fading pink, yellow and orange. You should have scolded him for kissing you while he was sick, but you couldn't find the heart to ruin the mood. Instead, you smiled back at him, leaning into the hand that remained on your cheek. There, in the wake of the lingering sun, you discovered that what once was your greatest fear was also your greatest treasure.

#creepypasta #ben drowned #legend of zelda #fanfiction #reader insert #ben drowned x reader #old work

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