#the sheer fucking fright in her face

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (4)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3

Warnings: Dubious Consent, smut (18+), mostly dirty talk, some fucked up dynamics where he lets her press a stake to his heart, oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, teasing.

For @stardustmorozov, Nicky I'm sorry but you're gonna yell at me again... and I'm gonna love it.

You sit on his bed, listening to the sound of the shower going. 

Your mouth tastes like spearmint, and your hair is still a little damp after your shower despite your attempts at blow drying.

You’re in one of his shirts, having raided his drawers when the duffel bag he’d given you earlier held nothing but sheer lingerie disguised as sleepwear.

Maybe you shouldn’t stay here, so instead you stand, and begin wandering around his apartment.

His bedroom is farthest from the front door, and you step out, roaming down the hallway, and stopping when you see another door.

It’s open, and you peek in to find an office that you promise yourself to explore after.

It’s the only door in the hallway, and the end of it opens up into a large area with a high ceiling. There’s his kitchen to your left, and on the opposite end of the room from where you are, is the living room area. There are no walls here, just windows that show off the glittering lights of the New York skyline at night. You wonder how he’s able to stand the sun, knowing that vampire eyes were hypersensitive to light, and that most of them avoided the sunlight. Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did. 

You tuck that snippet of information away for further examination.

You turn to examine the kitchen, scanning the cupboards, surprised to find regular household foods like pasta and rice, wondering if he had bought these items for you, or for other human friends of his.

Another hallway at the other end of the kitchen catches your eye, and you walk slowly, more deep in your own head than you were paying attention to the layout of his apartment.

You find the bedroom you’d first woken up in, all walls and no windows, a place that protects from the light, with its own en suite bathroom. You decide that maybe you can sleep here tonight, away from him and his wretched mouth. 

Backtracking, you look at the door for a long moment, before moving forward to examine it.

You reach for the handle, pushing down, you realise it’s locked. You sigh, eyes falling on the latched deadbolt, reaching up to open it, before trying the door handle again.

The door opens this time.

Your stomach twists.

Damn, had it really been that easy the entire time? You study the elevator just a few paces away from the door.

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

You turn away from the door, and you gasp in fright as you see him standing just a few steps away. 

You jerk, back hitting the door as fright slams through you.

You suck in a deep breath, pressing your hand to your chest.

He’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and shoulders still glistening with water after his shower.

You stare at each other, a silent showdown of who’s going to speak first.

Billy tilts his head, studying you intently.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your brain comes up with the dumbest, most obvious answer possible.

“I’m- not wearing pants.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We could go get some. Would you leave then?”

“No, cause it’s three in the morning and I’m tired.”

He takes a step toward you, a teasing smile on his pretty face. Your eyes trace the lines of his scars as he draws nearer. You relax as he approaches.

“And in the morning?” 

He’s so close now, you’re eye level with his dripping wet chest.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” You whisper, studying the scars on his chest, and then flitting your gaze up to meet his.

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

Except that you don’t feel trapped, all you feel is heated want.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” He asks, his voice stirs something inside of you, a dangerous feeling, something disastrous in the making.

“You can’t stop me.” You murmur, as his fingers touch the bottom of your chin, gently tilting your head higher.

He smiles then, all fangs and pearly whites on display.

“If only that were true.” He hums, leaning in till his lips brush yours.

You push against his biceps hard, and he moves back just enough so that you’re able to slip away from him.

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

You don’t get very far, before he’s gripping your wrist tightly to keep you in place. You turn to face him, a look of calm irritation plastered on your face.

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?”

“It’s about nothing. Let me go.” You pull on your arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m not-” You grunt as you pull on your hand again, “-You’re just pissing me off.”

“You’re the one that called me ‘sick’ and now you’re jealous cause I kissed someone?”

“I’m not fucking jealous-” You gasp as he pins your body to the kitchen counter, your body freezing in shock at the angry expression on his face.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He grits out, blinking after a second and seemingly calming in the same space of time.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Don’t forget I can hear every beat of your heart. I can smell your cunt. I already know how wet you are. Don’t think you’re capable of a lie.”

You let out an angry sigh, turning your head away from him.

“Whatever.” you say as harshly as you can.

There’s a moment of silence, where he looks at you, and you make a point not to look at him.

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Billy what the fuck! Put me the fuck down now you asshole!” You grunt, his shoulder digging near painfully into your hip. 

You kick your legs, trying to escape and after a moment you realise that it doesn’t make a difference.

If you really wanted to, you could maybe straighten your body and fight your way out of his grip, but there was an inevitability to his movements. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how difficult it was, Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

So when your body lands softly on his bed, all you do is look up at him angrily.

“Stay there.” He orders, untucking the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor. You look up to the ceiling to avoid looking at his nude form. You don't want to give him the satisfaction.

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

You clench, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of your face to hide your desire. You try your very hardest not to remember the look of him, the feel of his body on yours, his cock-

He tugs the pillow away from your face, and you sigh in annoyance up at him.

You don’t want to look down, but your eyes have almost a mind of their own.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you notice that he’s wearing a fitted pair of grey boxers on his lower half.

When your eyes meet his in confusion, he grins.

He finds his way up to you, hands sliding over your legs, up your calves and to your knees.

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

His hands slide up more, and you're just confused when he reaches under your shirt to tug at your panties.

"We're not fucking tonight, sweetheart, I just wanna talk to you."

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

When he gets the garment off, you watch him close his eyes for a brief second, tilt his head up and take a deep breath.

He was-

"God. You smell good."

His eyes are red when they reconnect with yours.

You don't say anything- you find that you can't. You want him and he knows it.

He grips your thighs, pressing them upward so that your cunt is exposed to him fully.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you're sure he can hear it. Open and vulnerable as you watch him look at your glistening cunt.

"Pretty. Did you know that?" 

You gulp, eyes glued to his form, admiring the look of his arms and the swell of his biceps.

"I want to taste you every day, all the time. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from dropping you on the first surface I can find and burying my face in your cunt."

He watches you clench around nothing, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

He releases your legs, letting them drop a little and he looms in above you, pressing your body tightly to his.

Chest to chest, your bare centre pressed right up to the hardness of his clothed cock, there's no space to breathe where he doesn't exist.

He angles his head so that his lips are pressed to your ear.

"I want to lick that pretty little cunt till you pass out, and then wake you up so I can do it all over again." He whispers in your ear, your body tense and on edge from just his words.

"I want to fuck you till you beg me to stop, and even then, I'll still be giving you just one more."

You think you might be ruining the sheets below you with how aroused you were.

"Then do it." You challenge, hoping for some reprieve to the ache inside of you.

His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing your cheek before covering your mouth firmly.

You make a muffled sound of protest, raising your hands to try and push him away. You hear a quiet laugh, before one of your hands is pinned above your head.

It doesn’t matter, whether you have one hand free or two- you would not be able to get out from under him on your own.

“My poor sweet little huntress,” He hums, your ear vibrating with his low words, “If you want me to fuck you till you cry, you’re going to have to ask nicely. Actually no- you’re going to have to beg.”

Your groan of annoyance is muffled behind his palm. There was no way you were going to beg him for anything.

You feel him smile against your neck, and then you still as you feel his teeth. 

He drags his sharp teeth gently over your neck, avoiding the spot where he bit you earlier.

“You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.” 

To prove his point, you feel his tongue swipe over your shoulder, and then purposefully over your bite, sending brief little shivers down your spine, and then he trails his tongue up the column of your neck, and then even further, licking over your cheek as well.

Your body feels like a livewire, vibrating with sheer desire each time he touches you.

You want to grunt out so many things. That he was filthy, that he was just downright fucked up in the head.

That you wanted him to keep going.

“You like that, don’t you? You always have.” He lets out a slow sigh, “You always get so wet when you can’t fight back.”

Fuck you, you wanted to say. 

“What if we made this interesting?” He hums, raising his upper body off yours for a second to reach into his bedside drawer. 

You’re no longer fully trapped under him, and if you wanted to get out, you could. Instead, you wait curiously to see what he was going to do.

He pulls a stake out of his top drawer.

“You- just have that in there? I could have killed you this whole time?”

“Of course.” He teases pushing the drawer shut, “Now’s your chance.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s sliding the silver stake into your hand.

What the fuck?

“Now, you can stop me if you really want.” Billy says ominously.

“That’s the most fucked up-” Before you can finish, he’s slapping his hand back over your mouth.

“Don’t care about what you have to say, baby, I’m gonna do what I want to you, and you can stop me if you feel like.”

And then, he starts tugging your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

In retrospect, you don’t have to kill him to make him stop, you could just mortally wound him. One well placed stab near the heart would be enough of a deterrent. You could slip free and be out the door in minutes.

Billy pulls your shirt up higher, exposing your breasts to the open air. Your hand tightens on the stake.

You should do it. You really should.

He groans when his tongue slides wetly over your left nipple. You shudder blissfully.

Your eyes roll back in your head, before fluttering shut. A breath of air leaves your mouth in a rush, fingers hold taut on the warming piece of silver in your hand.

One quick swipe of his tongue on your left breast, then your right. He raises his head.

“Do you want more?” Billy asks.

With your eyes still closed, you shake your head.

“Then stop me.” He says, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple. 

His short beard scratches along your sensitive breast, he kisses his way up to the spot below your collarbone, white hot sparks splintering over your body everywhere he touches.

You still when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Still want me to stop?” He checks in.

No you don’t.

“Yes.”

His teeth press into your skin.

A sharp cry spills out of you, tingles as he breaks skin, followed by a jolt of pain and then heat.

You jerk when he extracts his fangs.

Billy moans when he gets his first mouthful.

You pant, unable to understand how having him drink from you could hurt, and yet feel so blissfully good.

He takes another, and then another.

Was he going to kill you like this? Should you stop him now?

He rolls his hips, rock hard erection just bumping your clit and you gasp.

Fuck, why did every part of him have to feel so good? You could feel your arousal, slippery and messy between your thighs, begging you to give into him, if only for a moment so that he could ease your ache.

Instead, you move your hand, pressing the stake to his shoulder.

From his spot, drinking from your chest, you feel him make a sound of amusement.

You groan, disdain for him building in you, you press the weapon deeper till it breaks his skin.

He pauses, raising his head from your chest, lapping slowly at the trickling droplets of your blood before drawing back.

“Silly girl, didn’t anyone teach you how to kill a vampire?” He asks, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip, and though you try to fight his guidance, he’s too strong, pulling your hand until the stake is pressed to the centre of his chest.

“My heart is right here.” He murmurs softly, and with his hand on yours, he pulls the weapon closer, breaking skin once more.

“Stop.” You say, panic building inside of you, tugging at your hand in hopes that it can slip out from under his. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to kill him.

You pull hard at your hand, gasping gratefully when you manage to pull away. 

You look at him, sharp breaths trying to calm yourself when you get your hand away. 

He gives you a soft smile, pulling the stake away from his chest and dropping it on the bed.

You gulp, watching the wound he’d caused heal before your eyes.

“You are,” You breathe, “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Maybe,” He agrees with a hum, “But at least you can admit to yourself now, that you want this too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely, “That maybe you actually like me.”

“Not wanting you to die is not the same as-”

“-Oh give me a fucking break.” He grunts, pulling back.

He grips your knees, and before you can figure out what he’s doing- he flips you onto your stomach.

You let out a little grunt, pushing yourself up, but suddenly pressed back down by the weight of his body covering yours.

“You’ve cum on my cock way too many times to be lying to yourself like this.” He hisses.

You turn your head, so that you can see his face in your peripherals.

"You're such an arrogant fuck." You grunt out, your rucked up shirt causing your nipples to press against the bed, the exposure of your body makes you almost quiver with delight.

He leans in, his breath against your ear as you feel his hands gripping your hips.

"Why can't you just admit to yourself that you might want me, hmm?" He hisses lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin, tormenting you.

"That deep down," He continues, pressing his hand between your hips and the bed, "Somewhere in that pretty head and wet cunt," You feel his hand sliding lower, fingers touching the top of your mound, "You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"I want to lick your cunt so often that I can taste you when you're not there. Is that too much to ask for?"

Your head spins, too drunk on him to formulate words.

He makes it even harder, by slipping his hand lower, fingers meeting your wet slit.

He doesn't hesitate, fingers gliding easily down, meeting your clit and you let out a low, shuddering moan as your ache is addressed in the slightest way possible.

You tilt your hips forward, into his hand.

"Billy." You sigh, widening your legs instinctively, anything to encourage him to keep going.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You mewl, nodding your head.

His finger slips gently over your clit, and your breathing pauses, you don't want to do anything that would make him stop giving you this pleasure.

He gives a firm press, and you feel your body shudder, a wave of pure bliss sinking over you.

You say his name again, shifting your body, trying to display your impatience to him.

"Ah ah ah, little girl. Where are your manners? I told you I wanted you to beg."

"Fuck you." You groan angrily.

His finger slips lower, massaging your entrance for a few moments before slipping his finger in.

You gasp, your body going lax at the feel of the pleasure building in you. It’s good. It’s so good and it’s so wrong that he makes you feel like this.

"So fucking tight." He hisses, "That cunt's begging for a stretch."

Focusing on his words are hard with the way his lone finger moves, pumping in and out of you easily, your body desperate for him.

Something goes off in your head, like a gun when he curls his finger, and touches that spot deep inside of you. It pulls a groan from the very depths of your soul. You pant, trying to keep your thinking focused with the way he’s trying to steal it.

"That's it. You like this huh? Like the way I take what I want?" He leans in till his lips are at your ear, "I like it too." You clench around his finger.

"You're a sick fuck." You groan, half your mouth muffled from where your face is pressed to the bed.

"Yeah? Am I? Do you hate me?" He pulls back, and before you can make any sound of protest, two of his fingers are sliding into you.

Fuck, you can feel your body stretching for him. He uses his other hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up almost painfully so that your face isn’t muffled in the sheets anymore.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

You cry, his fingers beginning to move slowly, spreading you open and forcing you to feel him, to ache for more of him.

His fingers slow when you don’t immediately answer, and you groan internally, assembling the words in your head.

“I- I,” You stutter out, tears dripping from your eyes uncontrollably and pooling around his grip on your jaw, “I h-hate you.”

“Yeah? Poor little girl. Should I stop then? Leave you alone?” He coos, voice condescending in every way possible.

“Nh-” You immediately vocalise, begging him in your head to not stop, but the words can’t seem to come out of your mouth.

He laughs in your ear, understanding what you were about to say without you having to say it. 

The pace of his fingers quicken, you hiss, arching your back, feeling your orgasm swiftly approaching. You’ve wanted him since this morning, since he pulled you onto his lap and told you that you were his.

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back in your head, on the brink of release-

-And then his fingers stop.

A cry of despair leaves your lips, and the denial in your body aches, and then hurts even more when he pulls his fingers away, withdrawing his hand from under you. His grip on your jaw loosens, until your face is pressed against the sheets once more.

You raise your head groggily, turning your body onto your side when you feel him lift himself off of you. You catch sight of him sliding his fingers, wet with your denial into his mouth.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, on the brink of begging for him, pleading with him to make you cum, and then take you in any way he saw fit.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you stay still, trying not to speak, feeling the fire of denial burn through you.

You tug your shirt down, looking at him with angry eyes as he observes you.

“Are you done having your fun?” You ask bitterly.

The corner of his lip twitches.

"You know what to say if you want to cum, baby. Don't act like this isn't your choice."

You feel petulance build up inside of you, anger beyond thought.

"Go fuck yourself." You hiss, moving to slide off the bed.

He grips your hips, hauling you back, until you're on your back, looking angrily up at him.

"What's the rush, sweetness? Don't you want me to clean you up?" 

“Clean me?” You repeat in disbelief, sitting up, propping the weight of your torso onto your elbows. Your brain stalling on what that could possibly mean.

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

He takes his time, shouldering his body in between your thighs, his face so close to your dripping centre that you’re not sure if you have any brain cells left functional

“God.” He murmurs, his breath brushing along your mound as he takes in an unnecessary breath, his eyes immediately locking on to the messy place between your thighs, “You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.” 

“You are the most insane person on the planet.”

He grins, lowering his head slowly, anticipation building inside of you, a simmering heat, a thrumming pulse.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Is the last thing he murmurs before his lips meet your cunt.

You close your eyes, pressing your lips together, begging yourself to not make a sound. He places a gentle kiss to your slit, and then another, before you feel his lips part, and his tongue snake out.

You make a muffled groan behind your clenched teeth as he gets a taste of you.

What starts off gentle, turns slightly rougher as he lays a harsh swipe of his tongue along your pussy, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel Billy begin to slowly lick your cunt.

He’s thorough and unrelenting, his face buried between your thighs, licking at you without a care in the world.

You want to spit every degrading word you can at him, hating the way you know in the back of your head that only he has ever made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck you.” You gasp as his tongue finds your clit easily, a laugh vibrating through your nether regions as he hears you.

You give up trying to resist, reaching to grip the back of his head, hoping to urge him on.

It has the opposite effect, he raises his head, and you whine, a low, pained noise at his torment.

"I'm not clean enough yet," You argue, looking down to meet his scarlet eyes.

You look at each other for a long moment, the heat of unsaid words crackling between you.

You want to beg, you're almost on the brink of it.

"I agree." Is all he says before he lowers his head again.

"Fuck-" You gasp, your back hitting the bed as your arm refuses to support your weight for any longer. 

His tongue is too dexterous, licking at your clit, and then dipping down to your entrance. He groans, tongue catching your arousal straight from the source.

Your toes curl, blissful orgasm near, your body tingles with the anticipation of your impending release.

You moan his name, putting every ounce of desperate desire into the one word.

He pulls away right when you're on edge.

The sound that leaves you is pitiful, tears of frustration spill from your eyes as you look up at him.

"I'll give you anything if you let me come."

"You know what I want." He says, licking his lips.

"Besides that," You try to bargain, "I'll blow you again, or I'll let you bite me." 

His smile is one of amusement, it makes you feel like a child, begging for something you're not going to get.

"I think we've already established that if I wanted those things, you wouldn't stop me. Even if you could."

You frown, letting out a sharp breath, fully understanding that he would not take pity on you tonight.

"Fine, asshole, I'll do it myself." You grunt, slipping from under him and sitting up with the intention of a shower.

He grips your bicep harshly to stop you. You grit your teeth angrily, unable to look into his eyes.

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

He pulls you closer, till his lips are pressed right to your ear again, your stomach flipping at his proximity.

"I'll tie you to the bed, and edge you till you forget your name. I'll use you like my own personal fleshlight and I'll never let you cum."

You hiss angrily, nether regions throbbing at his words and you tug your arm out of his grip.

"Fuck. You." Is your only reply as you head to the bathroom for the coldest shower possible.

.

After all of that, you sleep in bed beside him.

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Thought vampires didn't need sleep?" You ask, voice unsteady, having just woken up.

"We don't." He answers, looking down at you. 

Your eyes trace his scars, you want to touch them, ask him what happened.

"So why did you lie beside me all night?"

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away as you feel blood rush to your face.

"Will you tell me more about this…imprint?" You ask softly.

He makes a little sound of displeasure.

"It's not exactly an imprint- It’s like-" He lets out a low sigh.

"It sounds worse than it actually is, but- ugh- do you know what quantum entanglement is?"

"Do I look like a physicist?" You answer.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at your snark.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

"What entangles them?" You ask.

"Physical interaction, but, with people, it's a lot harder to explain because there's a lot that isn't understood. It can happen with anyone, but not everyone, and at a subconscious level, it has to be accepted by both."

"You're saying I chose this?"

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

"Feel me?" You press, hoping for him to elaborate.

He raises a hand, his knuckles carefully brush your cheek.

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

You blink, trying to figure out if you'd felt the same way. You had so many questions flying through your head and difficulty putting them into words.

“Is there any way to break it?”

You can almost feel the air go frigid between you.

“As far as I understand, nothing breaks the bond except dying.”

Great.

“And what happens if we stay together?”

“I’ve heard different things from different people.” He responds.

“Like what?” You ask, trying to think it through. You remember Ethan had mentioned that there was the prolonging of lives involved.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"I don't want to tell you what I'm not sure about. I have a friend, bonded to a human, maybe you can ask them whenever."

You swallow, nodding, trying not to fret over the possibility of more vampires.

Deep in thought, you blink in surprise when you feel his thumb brush over your cheek again. You look up at him in surprise.

"I have another question, but it's very personal."

"What is it?" 

You stall for a moment, studying the look in his eyes, the dark reflectiveness of them, the way you can almost see yourself in his eyes.

"Exactly how old are you?"

It changes the sour mood, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement before he gives you a fanged grin.

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

You huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to freak you out, and telling you my age is gonna freak you out."

Maybe he was right, maybe it was better that you didn't know.

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. He gets closer to you, fingers tracing over your cheek and down your neck, only stopping when they reach the healing bite on your shoulder.

Experimentally, he presses his thumb against the wound. You turn your head sharply to look at him, feeling the pain swim through your body but not reacting to it.

“Ow.” You say simply.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks quietly.

You smack his hand away, sitting up, your back to him.

“Why does it suddenly matter?” You jab, moving to dangle your feet off the side of the bed.

There’s a big silence, he doesn’t answer, and after a moment you’re forced to glance back to make sure he’s still there and hasn’t dissolved into the air because of you.

He’s looking at you, as if he somehow understands something about you that you don’t know about yourself.

“How many times have you been bitten?”

The question brings a laugh to your lips.

“Enough times that I'm used to it.”

“Does it hurt any less each time?”

You turn away, an amused and thoughtful smile rises to your face.

“Every time I get bitten, always hurts like the first time.” You say in finality, leaving the room soon after.

.

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You’d showered, looking at your reflection in the fogged mirror, trying to think clearly with so much frustration in your system. In the moment, you close your eyes, and recall the first time you’d ever fucked him.

It had been frantic at first, the way he’d used his tongue on you had your body begging for more, and you honestly thought you were going to die after you’d tried to kill him.

You’d put everything into it- savouring him because you wanted to seal yourself into his memory- if he was going to kill you by the end of it.

You’d gone pliant when he'd lined himself up with your entrance, and you can still remember the way your brain spiralled in surprise at the ridiculous amount of pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like that before.

Over and over again, you’d fucked till you could barely hold yourself up, till you’d been sitting on his lap, his hands gripping your hips to do all the work because you couldn’t even lift your head from the crook of his neck.

He’d been quiet, not like the second time, or even last night, when he was so vocal, the only thing you could compare it to was sin itself.

Your lower regions pulse. You can feel the heat between your thighs, begging for him, and the pleasure he gives regardless of how annoying he was.

It’s why you grab the dress at the bottom of the duffel bag to wear, deciding that you didn’t have to beg to get what you wanted. 

It was actually a really cute dress, blue, with little printed flowers all over it. Most importantly, it was short, only coming up to mid-thigh, which meant that if you bent over, he’d see the smallest scrap of lace you’d decided to call underwear today.

If he could play games, so would you.

.

He’s making breakfast when you step into the kitchen. It kind of amuses you, that he’s only cooking for you.

“Can I help?” You ask, stepping up beside him at the stove to look down at the omelette he’d been working at.

He glances at you, looks down at the stove, before blinking to look over at you once more.

You watch his jaw stiffen, you resist the urge to bite your lip as you watch his eyes trace down your body.

Oh, what power.

“Butter.” He says, “Fridge.”

You offer him a teasing smile, before turning away.

You bend unnecessarily, feeling your skirt rise up, cool air brushing the back of your thighs. 

The butter is on the middle shelf, making your bending completely unnecessary in the first place.

He's not looking at you when you turn around. You're not even sure if he's seen your little display.

He takes the butter from you without a word, and you're very intrigued by the way he cooks, the move of his wrist to flip the omelette.

"Can you get the bread toasted for me?"

How was he doing this? Being so calm and casual with you? Seeing this side of him was so much worse for your sanity than anything else. 

"You have bread?" You ask curiously, looking around, but not able to spot any.

"Yeah, here-" He steps away from the stove to reach into one of the overhead cupboards. You glance down at the pan on the stove, to make sure nothing is burning. The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

There were deep impressions of his fingers… caused by squeezing too hard.

Maybe he was more affected with your display than he let on.

You fight a satisfied smile, giving him a knowing look when he returns to place the bag of sliced bread into your hands.

"You bought all of this for me?" You tease, "I'm flattered."

He looks hot when he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I can’t let you starve.”

“Because you like me?” You pry, swaying your shoulders playfully from side to side.

He huffs, using the spatula to flip the finished omelette onto a nearby plate.

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head without looking at you.

It only urges you on, like a match, sparking as it rubs against coarse paper.

You brace your hands against his kitchen counter, stiffening your arms as you use your toes to push you into an effortless bounce, using the momentum to raise your body, sitting yourself on his counter, facing him.

He doesn’t look, simply preparing the pan for toast.

“Ah,” You tease, parting your thighs subtly, “So you don’t like me then.”

Yet still, he doesn’t respond, calmly observing the bread as it toasts, the smell of it in the air makes your mouth water a little.

But it’s not what you’re hungry for.

“Maybe you only think you like me because of how sweet my blood tastes. Maybe it’s all in your head-”

Your voice goes quiet when he finally pins you with a stern glare. 

His movements are decisive, turning the stove off, moving the pan away from the residual heat, and then turning to you.

Goddamn.

You gasp, raising a leg to back away from him while also making an attempt to push him back with your foot, but there’s nowhere for you to go, your head bumps a cupboard door, and that’s all the distraction he needs to grab your ankle.

You let out a little squeak, gasping as he pulls you forward and right up against his body, encouraging your legs to wrap around him.

You open your mouth to speak, to protest, to fight him in an unmeaningful way, but you don’t get the chance as his hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your mouth onto his.

God fucking damn.

Your eyes shut, your body relaxes, and then sings with delight as he delves his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth, unable to fight it, leaning in because it feels so good to have him. 

Fuck every part of you that told you this was wrong. You wanted him and nothing would stop you.

You grip his shirt in a tight fist, leaning in, meeting his mouth with an undeniable force. He presses back, and for a moment you feel so blissfully wanted, maybe more than you’d ever been before.

Only when his hand weaves into your hair, his fist tightening to hold your head in place as he leans away, do you remember the taunting remarks that got you here.

Your scalp stings, mouth falling open to gasp in air.

His eyes are dark red, like the blood he drinks to stay alive.

He doesn’t speak, releasing your hair to support your behind as he lifts you off the counter, moving quickly with your body pressed to his.

Your vision shifts too fast for comprehension, and the next thing you can process is lying face down across the marble kitchen island.

He grips the back of your head to keep you there, warm cheek to frigid marble and you stay, refusing to move, wishing that he takes in this moment, everything that you’re willing to give.

He leans over your body, until his mouth is pressed to your ear.

“Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

He’s not done ranting, continuing on as if he doesn’t care for your answers.

“I know you just said that to get a rise out of me, but the very idea of me only wanting your for your blood- makes me fucking sick.”

He leans in even more, taking a deep breath in the space of your neck.

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

He leans away a little.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? When you put on this little dress and flashed that cunt at me?”

He moves away even more, and the next thing you feel is him pushing your dress up, his hand pressed securely to the small of your back so that you can’t raise your body.

He's still for a moment, and so are you, burning with anticipation, your cunt getting wetter by the second.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his nose graze the back of your thigh.

You shudder, feeling his breath along your most sensitive areas, your skin tingles as he runs his nose upward, your hands curl into fists beside your head when you feel a small puff of air against your skin.

He’s still for so long that you find your body tense with anticipation, biting down on your bottom lip hard so that you don’t beg him to just put you out of your sordid misery. 

You make a small mewling sound of surprise when you feel his tongue lick along the lace gusset of your panties. 

He tugs at the scrap of fabric, pulling it away from the tacky seam of your cunt so that he can get a better look, an uninhibited view of your desire.

You want to say his name, so badly that you can feel the resonant sound of it in the back of your throat. Instead, you repeat it in your head.

Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

“I can’t believe how fucking messy this cunt gets. All for me.” He says softly, as if you’re not meant to hear but you do anyway.

“Such a fucking shame that you won’t beg. The things I want to do to you, the ways I want to make you cum.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting hard against the kitchen counter, your inner walls fluttering, begging. 

“Fucking tease.” He breathes out, as he watches more arousal spill from between your thighs.

Billy, please-

Your gasp gets caught in your throat as his tongue licks a wet trail from your clit to your entrance.

“Fuck- didn’t mean to do that but I can’t help it.” Is all he says before his tongue starts licking you slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head and stays there permanently for a few seconds. The flood of bliss is almost too much for your body to manage.

He grunts, his hands gripping your thighs to spread your legs further apart.

His tongue is forceful as it dances over your clit, and then, after what you assume is a moment of contemplation, you feel his tongue push its way against your entrance.

Your breathing is sharp and shallow, you reach to grip the other edge of the counter, trying to get some leverage to remain sane.

The pleasure is shallow, but your body is hypersensitive with denial, his tongue fucking into you at a reasonable pace is almost enough to have your breath stalling in your throat.

When he finally gets control of himself, his tongue slows, carefully licking you, daring your body to think about orgasm.

After a few more moments, he raises his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief, your body releasing the tension of pleasure, your hands relaxing its grip on the marble countertop.

But you should have known better than to think he was done with you, not satisfied until you know for sure that you’ve lost this interaction.

His hands on your hips, gripping them as he turns you over, pulling you up into a sitting position.

Nose to nose, you look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze.

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

You sigh, pressing your cheek into his palm and closing your eyes.

“Say it for me. What do I want?” He asks.

You breathe out a huff, an unknown emotion squeezing your throat tightly.

“Me.” You whisper softly, eyes still shut to avoid his gaze.

He doesn’t mind, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Good girl.”

And then he’s gone- right back to toasting bread, as if nothing had ever happened.

It almost drives you insane.

.

.

.

Happy Halloween!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #monster!billy russo #vampire!billy russo

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 5

We have finally gotten to the lake. Things start to ramp up from here.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1| Pt 2|Pt 3|Pt 4|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie was having a hell of a time. Not because Steve was being rude. Because he wasn’t. Nope, the problem was that he wasn’t being rude. He was being sweet and patient. And yeah if Dustin was to be believed, it was because Steve had a big heart and not because Eddie was his soulmate.

But Eddie’s inner cynic kept telling him to poke the bear. To keep pushing Steve until his facade snapped and revealed his inner bitch.

He resisted. This was not the time for that. If they had met under any other circumstances then the world literally trying to end itself...maybe. But the world was trying to end itself and if being Steve Harrington’s soulmate meant he came out this alive, then fuck it. He was going to keep his mouth shut.

“Dustin!” Steve hissed. “Stop getting so far ahead!”

They had been wandering the fucking woods looking for the source of the compass malfunctioning for what felt like hours.

And considering that they had pulled out their flashlights pretty much confirmed that as far as Eddie was concerned.

Dustin just continued to plow on ahead. Not listening to a single thing Steve said.

But Eddie knew this place better than the kid did and he started calling out to him. “Dustin! Dustin! Dustin!”

“It’s right around–”

Eddie, who had been trying to catch up with him, managed to reach out and pull the little butthead back from what would have been a very messy and wet disaster.

Dustin would have walked right into the lake and not a gentle sloping of the shore either. It was a sheer drop off.

“Jesus!” Dustin hissed.

Steve reached them concern on his face until he saw that Eddie had him. God did Steve recognize that pose. He had done the same thing two years ago when the demodogs had rushed Dustin and him in the tunnels.

Warm relief flooded his being as mouthed ‘thank you’ to Eddie.

Eddie blushed. The butterflies that had been cocooned in his stomach since finding out Steve Harrington was his soulmate suddenly burst forth, leaving a little fluttering to warm his chest all the way through.

“It’s at the bottom of the lake?” Lucas asked, frowning.

Max came up behind him and looked across the water. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“But it’s got to be,” Dustin whined, looking down at his compass with a sneer. “There’s no other place it could be.”

“Look!” Robin cried. “The boat!” She pointed a little ways to the south.

It had somehow made it shore even with Eddie accidentally abandoning it in his fright.

They made their way over to it and found that even in his panic, Eddie hadn’t lost any of the oars for damn thing so they could at least row back to the middle of the lake.

“I’m coming,” Dustin said firmly.

“Like hell you are,” Steve huffed. “I don’t want any of you kids near that thing if it is a gate. You’re staying here and that’s final.”

“I’m coming with,” Robin said shooting her hand in the air.

Steve looked at Eddie, who nodded. Yeah, he was going to go with them.

“Look, Henderson,” Eddie said, “there’s only room on the boat for thr–” but just then Nancy stepped up and made it clear with her body language that she too was coming with and to brook no argument.

The look of gratitude on Steve’s face when Eddie had backed him up on keeping the kids on the shore set off the god damned butterflies again.

It was becoming a problem.

Steve knelt down and pushed it a little away from the shore so that it would be easier to push off. He held on to the head of the boat and motioned for them to get on.

He offered a hand to Robin and she ignored it in favor of using Eddie and his heads as supports. He offered his hand to him and Eddie steadfastly ignored it. Not because he didn’t want to take Steve’s hand but because he really, really did. He was afraid that if he took Steve’s hand there would be no letting go.

And yeah, maybe it was a bit of dick move to stick out his hand to give Nancy another option other than Steve to help her into the boat, especially since when he looked over at Steve he looked crestfallen.

Then he watched as Steve pushed the boat off with all of them in it and deftly hopped in. That did absolutely fucking nothing to calm the butterflies in his chest.

They reached the spot in the middle of the lake where Patrick had died and there was an eerie glow to the water. And immediately Steve started taking off his shoes.

“Whoa!” Robin said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Steve looked up at her like he didn’t understand the question. “Someone has to go down there and check to see if a gate has opened right?”

“I’ll do it,” Nancy said. “I’m a strong swimmer.”

Steve scoffed. “I don’t doubt that, but unless any of you can beat co-captain of the swim team and lifeguard three years running, I’m going.”

There really wasn’t answer to that so they watched as Steve removed his socks and shoes. Well, Robin and Nancy did, but Eddie occupied himself with wrapping a plastic bag around the flashlight so it wouldn’t short the second Steve hit the water.

Steve threw his sweater at him and Eddie was faced with a shirtless soulmate and it was a god damned miracle he didn’t nut himself right then and there.

He pulled out a cigarette and immediately Robin tossed it overboard. He glared at her but she just stuck her tongue at him. He rolled his eyes and handed the now wrapped flashlight to Steve.

Steve smiled softly. “Thanks.”

They waited in stony silence as Steve dove beneath their feet. The silence stretched on the longer Steve was gone. No one wanted to say it out loud. What if it was a gate?

What if there being more than an evil wizard the Upside Down was finding ways to open its own gates? Then no amount of government oversight was going to stop the Upside Down from taking over their world.

Steve came back up. “Yeah, there’s a gate down there all right. A big one.”

But before he could even move to get back on the boat, he was yanked back under with a surprise yelp.

“Steve!” Nancy screamed and immediately dived after him.

Eddie’s eyes went wide as Robin sidled up to the side of the boat. “You’re going too?”

“Yup!”

And over she went.

Eddie began cursing and hitting at the air. He knew he was going to capsize the boat if he wasn’t careful. Or...

“Fuck.”

And he followed the two girls into the water.

****

Steve had known that touching the gate would only bring him pain and disappointment, but his lizard brain went ‘ooh glowy thingy!’ and reached out and touched it anyway.

And now he was fighting for his life in the Upside Down against large winged creatures that he was sure Dustin was going to name demo-something. Demo-bird? No, that sounded lame. Demo-eagle? That sounded just as bad.

Oh wait. He was supposed to be fighting for his life here. Not trying to name the creature trying to eat him. Like literally eat him.

Thank god for Nancy and Robin to be honest. Coming in like avenging furies and kicking the shit out the winged beasts.

Eddie coming in clutch was nice too. Watching him shatter that oar on that beastie was a little hot.

It sent off something primal in Steve that he tapped into. He sunk his teeth into the tail of the beastie that had been dragging him across this hellish landscape, snarling. The creature let go and tried to get away, but Steve wasn’t done.

Not by a long shot.

He kept a hold of the tail and began bashing the thing into the ground with a fury he didn’t understand. He stomped on the creature and ripped literally in two.

He tossed the chunk away and then spat out the black ichor, panting for breath.

He looked up to see his friends staring at him as if he had gone insane. And you know what? Fair. He felt insane.

But fighting for one’s life did that to a person.

“Fuck.”

They all gathered behind him to look at the mass of winged creatures that stood between them and the gate that would lead them back home.

Eddie pushed his hair back and let out a small whimper of distress. Steve understood the feeling.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Eddie yelled as he threw a temper tantrum right there in the middle of the hell landscape. Because yeah, Mordor was a fucking good analogy.

Everything around them was dark and twisted versions of the ones he had grown up knowing.

Nancy looked behind them. “The forest!”

They turned and ran for the cover of the trees, hoping that they weren’t running right into the flowered faces of the demogorgons.

At least Eddie didn’t know about those.

Yet.

****

Once they were under the cover of the trees they stopped to dress Steve’s wounds.

Nancy cut off strips of her shirt to bind the two gaping holes in Steve’s stomach. She walked over to where Steve was leaning against a rock face with strips in her hands. Steve hissed in pain.

“Oh god,” Robin moaned. “What if he has rabies? Do bats in the Upside Down has rabies?”

“Robin!” Steve hissed. “If you don’t shut up I will hit you!”

“Oh good,” she said with a hiccup of relief. “He’s fine. His humor is still intact.”

Eddie and Nancy looked over at her like she was crazy. Eddie watched as Nancy edged closer to Steve to put the wrapping on his wounds. Steve shoved his hands into his hair to drive the pain elsewhere.

Then Nancy dropped to her knees and Eddie ran up to them. “Here, let me do it.”

Nancy reared back her head. “What? Why?”

“Do you know how to dress wounds that deep?” he asked, breathing heavily through his nose.

“Well, no,” she replied. “But it can’t be much different than patching up a scraped knee.”

Eddie looked at her with wide eyes. “Is that really the extent of your first aid knowledge?”

“Guys!” Steve snapped. “I’m kinda bleeding out here!”

Eddie snatched the makeshift bandages from Nancy. “Calling soulmate privileges.”

Nancy rolled her eyes but stepped back.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “This has got to be tight and it’s gonna hurt, but you have to stay with me, okay?”

Steve nodded, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Just hurry.”

Eddie pursed his lips and began wrapping around Steve’s waist, steadfastly ignoring his soulmate’s gasps and moans of pain. This close to Steve and Eddie could almost feel the pain in his own sides. The burn on his back and upper arms.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “We’re almost done. I promise.”

“It hurts, Eds.”

“I know.” He looked up into Steve’s eyes and repeated. “I know.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked down at Eddie. “Yeah. Okay, okay.”

Nancy frowned and leaned over to Robin. “What’s going on?”

“They’re truemates,” Robin whispered back.

Nancy’s eyes went wide and she mouthed “Oh.”

“All done, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Don’t try and talk. Just squeeze my hands when you’re ready to move on.” And he gently took Steve’s hands.

A couple minutes later, Steve squeezed his hands.

“Okay,” Eddie said with a shuddering breath. “He’s ready to move on. So let’s get moving.”

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog

@gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer

@maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato

@carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child

@bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

@littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet

@ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly

@y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

[dodorimo]

to even the odds

The sight of her half-naked body, already flushed with arousal, awakened a torrent of emotions within him. Desire was one of them. Bitterness was another.

His mouse stole his treasures, leaving bereft of pride and hope. A light at the end of the tunnel comes in the form of his incubus and the new body they have added to their repertoire. Raphael/Named F!Dark Urge, Explicit, 2.2k

Tags: possessive behaviour, yandere, vaginal sex, knotting, he's disgusting but would you have him in any other way?

AO3 link

The moment the words left his lips, he felt a sense of uneasy nagging at the pit of his stomach. Stage fright, he reassured himself, afflicts even the most seasoned of performers.

“Change into her.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Haarlep did not ask for clarification. Didn’t need to. The incubus knew as well as he did who he was referring to.

A brief moment elapsed. Beyond the silken  curtains, the ever-present audience held their breath.

There was a sound like a soft whoosh of air as Haarlep assumed her form, the long mane of her white-blonde hair cascading down their back. The sight of her half-naked body, already flushed with arousal, awakened a torrent of emotions within him. Desire was one of them. Bitterness was another. If breaking into his house and sleeping with his incubus wasn’t enough, the mouse decided to rid him of his much prized possessions in one fell swoop.

The sheer gall of her. He remembered finding a piece of parchment with a lipstick mark on it where her contract should have been. Still warm.

He kept it as a souvenir. Pile up your evidence, as he likes to say.

Oh, he will love to pry her forgiveness from her rouge-tinged lips. Make her beg. All in due time. For now, he would stay his hand and enjoy whatever prizes were left so kindly to him.

“Lie down on the bed,” he said. “And don't even think about touching yourself until I say so.”

A poor consolation prize, he added, as he watched Haarlep crawl into his bed, a decidedly not mouse-like grin on their face. But it’ll have to do.

Once Haarlep settled among the pillows, he climbed on top of them and kneeled between their legs, his own clothes magicked away in his—shameful, he admitted—haste. His greedy eyes ran down her body: her outspread legs, the generous curve of her breast, her alluring pout. Every inch a love letter, excessive in its beauty.

There would be plenty of time to gawk later. This was an act of chastisement, and he would do well to remember.

Slowly, he took a finger down her collarbone towards the valley of her breasts, savoring the little goosebumps that rose on her flesh. The poor excuse for undergarments that still covered her body, no more than a few lace-trimmed straps, melted like sand in an hourglass.

Haarlep wasn’t used to having their lover taking their time in bed, much less tending to their needs. The anticipation was getting to them. They pressed their thighs together and bit their lip until blood welled to the surface, eyes closed.

“Fuck me, master. Make me your whore,” the incubus finally gave in, hoping the blatant vulgarity would be enough to stir his loins.

Raphael’s fingers found the bridge of his nose and pinched, as if he heard a particular keening sound in an otherwise flawless composition. “Sweeter, much sweeter,” he instructed. “Remember, there is release in the act of giving in, but there is also shame.”

A look of fleeting confusion flashed through the incubus' eyes. The meaning of his words was lost on them. Haarlep knew only the invigoration that accompanied the sins of the flesh, and hardly anything else. The act was as new to them as it was to him.

Regardless of their personal judgment, it wasn’t in the incubus’ nature to shy away from a challenge, especially when the promise was such a sweet reward. They closed their eyes, as if reliving the time spent together joined at the hips with his mouse.

Raphael straightened his back, jaw clenched. That the wretch would know her so intimately when he had to contend with a facsimile. The idea alone was grounds for the harshest of punishments, and yet, there he stood with his pants around his knees and flaccid cock in hand. What a pitiful sight he must be.

There was a hint of trepidation in their voice when Haarlep finally spoke. “Take me, please…” they said, spreading their legs—her legs—for his perusal. “I long for you. Raphael.”

It was the low whisper of his name that did it for him, that sent a primal shiver coursing through his body. He could almost picture his little mouse beneath him, pretty lips open and hair fanned out on his silk pillows.

“Better, somehow...” He sighed and wrapped a hand around his cock—almost fully erect now—and pumped once, then twice, to take the edge off. To his immeasurable disappointment, it did very little to help him with that.

Raphael turned his attention to her body instead, fingers reaching out to test her smoothness, giving special care to the nub above her nether lips. Pink and glistening with her honey. Just as he imagined.

He rubbed at her with just the tip of his fingers, more to satisfy his curiosity than to offer any real pleasure. The incubus’ eagerness was evident in the way they writhed and moaned softly under him, clutching at the pillows. When he pulled back, she bucked her hips toward him, chasing his touch.

“So impatient. One might think you were looking forward to this.” He laughed, dipping his wet fingers into his mouth. “Tell me, dearest, have you thought about me? Late at night?”

"I… you've been on my mind more than once."

Ah, an impressive show of restraint. He ought to give Haarlep his compliments later.

“Here, mouse. Be a dear then and return the favour.”

He placed her hand—so small and delicate even in comparison to his glamoured body—around his cock. It reminded him he could assume a different form; a larger, more imposing form. But it’s not his wish to scare her just yet.

The feeling of her hand, stroking his length, thumb shyly grazing the head, was nothing less than divine. Only to be rivaled, he wagered, by the feeling of her pretty lips around his cock. But that delight he would save for another day.

“To think I could have been spared the trouble of trying to woo you.” He guided her hand up and down his cock, harder now, letting his anger dictate his words as well as the cadence of his movements. “No, wooing is for ladies and well-behaved girls. Not backstabbing little whores.”

Her curious hand strayed lower, then lower still, seeking entrance between his thighs. He stopped its descent before it could reach its desired destination.

He was many things. Kind, forgiving, charitable. Patient he was not.

Her velvety walls are what he desired. He wrapped one hand around her thigh to keep her open, the other finding purchase on the pillow beside her head.

As soon as he bottomed inside her, he let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, capturing a nipple into his mouth, drawing soothing circles on her skin.

“She feels you, master. Your possession.”

“She better,” he gritted out.

“And she loves it,” the incubus continued as if he hadn’t heard him, all too pleased to relay her thoughts to him. “She loves it more than she’s willing to admit.”

Of course she does, you thrice-damned wretch, he wanted to say. Why else would she have fooled around with his doppelgänger for? If her claws were as sharp as rumoured, she would’ve made short work of a lesser fiend the likes of Haarlep. And he knew how much those bhaalspawn craved their fill of blood. No, the mouse had no need to get on her back for measly morsels of information: her choice was one born out of lust. The memory of phantom fingers still burned hot on his skin.

The little vixen. Bane of his life. She could’ve come to him. She should’ve come to him.

“That’s a pity.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, each word punctuated with a hard thrust. “She isn’t supposed to.”

Oh, how exquisitely her moans resounded within the gilded walls of his boudoir! The last shiny piece of an already perfect image.

He’s not immune to her siren call—he leaned his head, tasting her lips and tongue, welcoming the coppery tang of blood as it entered his mouth.

The task distracted him enough that he didn’t realize he shed his human skin until later, as the fiendish side of him took over.

There she lay, small, helpless, her body jolting with each motion of his hips, breasts swaying. She may take the little vampling to bed in the morning, but she would open her legs for him every night. 

“Who owns you?” He struggled to get the words out, taking deep breaths to rein himself in.

“You, you godsdamned bastard. I belong to you…”

Raphael hummed in clear approval. His incubus knew he didn’t desire a meek caricature of his beloved mouse. Subdued, yes. Penitent, most definitely. But never meek.

He wasn’t going to last long. Not when she clenched around him like a fist, her lithe legs wrapped around his waist, pulling her to him. The finishing touch, then, before the round of applause.

The sudden swelling of his cock inside her had her squirming and arching her back off the bed. Rarely did he get in the mood to knot a partner, too much of a bother for him to consider. In his experience, he found the troubles far outweighed the benefits, but for her, he would make an exception.

Haarlep’s little mewls and pained gasps weren't all just for show. They never had him in this manner before.

“What is the matter, dear?” He relished in her pain, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s just more of me to love.”

Her walls grew tighter. Her body welcomed him.

“I’m going to spill my seed.” She couldn’t hear him but she could feel him. “Right inside you.” Those last words were whispered in her ear, as if confessing a deed of love.

She chose that moment to look at him, pretty blue eyes lined with tears and, for an instant, he saw himself reflected in those crystalline depths: strong, awe-inspiring, kingly. It was enough to tear his control to shreds, filling her to the brink with his molten essence.

“Eirin,” he faltered, peppering kisses along the column of her neck. “Beautiful. Mine.”

As he rode his high, the incubus feasted on his pleasure at will. Recklessly so. Drinking more than they were used to. He felt his strength seeping out of him just as another jolt ripped through his body.

Raphael let them be. He would not dare break the spell with the sound of his voice. Not now. Not when he felt so connected to her.

He held her close as another wave of his release swept over him. He felt her then. Clenching around him impossibly tight, head thrown back in pleasure. He knew at that moment that it wasn’t the incubus’ release he was witnessing, but rather the mouse’s, as it manifested through the bond between them. 

Unexpected, but intriguing all the same.

He flicked his finger against her pearl to aid her in her fall. Never let it be said that he was nothing but a diligent lover.

As she came down from her peak, Raphael gently stroked her stomach to help her take every last drop of him. Divine blood may run in her veins but it made no difference. Her fragile human physiology was not made to bear his passion. If she were to be his new plaything, and she will be, additional measures would have to be put into place. Not to mention, his heat would render any human contraceptive obsolete.

There's an allure to the idea, he can’t deny. He could easily leave her with child and she would be none the wiser.

Eirin, Eirin, Eirin.

Her father would place a tiara of rubies upon her head, a princess in all but name. Raphael liked to think she deserved something more.

He basked in her scent, ignoring the hint of sulphur, rubbing his cheek against hers like a lovesick paramour. He would build the greatest of cages for her soul. An opulent, lavish cage that would dwarf even his best work. Failure was out of the question.

She would come to accept him, in time. Come to love him, even. Hope fared just fine.

Love.

When it came to the matters of the heart, he was a fierce admirer. But the very notion was dangerous. Like taking a wrong turn in a dark alleyway. Too many eyes and many ears, behind every door. Nothing good could come out of this affair, not for him and definitely not for her. His kind did not tolerate weaknesses, whatever form it took. And what need did he have for her love? All he needed was her submission. He required nothing else. Wished for nothing else.

But must the curtains fall in the end, and he could feel himself beginning to soften inside her.

It always ended the same way. The euphoria, the fervour and the feeling of walking among clouds. Gone too soon.

He pulled back an inch, just enough to balance his weight on his hand. A mistake, he quickly realized, as he was greeted with the sight of her cunt dripping with his seed. His incubus pleaded for him still, deep in the throes of their own passion.

So easily stirred, the appetites of men.

The play needed not end now, after all.

The raptured crowd begged for an encore. And he was ever so eager to abide.

#raphael bg3 #raphael fanfiction #raphael bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #my writing #mine #raphtav #raphael x tav

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝐻𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟

Warnings: Heavy descriptions of death, Clickers, mentions of blood and trauma, Joel and reader being harsh to each other, implying on not being enough, mentions of SA

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

“Look, all I'm saying that a boyfriend would be good for you Y/N! I didn't insult you or anything!”

“It's an insult for me, Tommy and since when are you a matchmaker?”

“Since my best friend decided that it was a good idea to spend her life alone in a shitty world!”

You chuckled under the mask at his playfullnes and shook your head in fake disappointment. Ever since he rescued you, he and Maria had been nothing but kind to you, even having you over their house almost all the time in the town they made, Jackson. You were grateful for the second chance given to you, and in exchange you wanted to keep the town and everyone living in it safe...

Therefore suggesting to take over an iron factory, and creating a weapon strong enough to kill whoever stood before you...

Who knew an anime would come true?

“Is it not heavy for you? We’ve been walking for quite some time...” he asked, eyeing the heavy weapon over your hips apprehensively, which caused you to raise a brow playfully.

“No, it’s not... I’m used to wearing them all the time Tommy, and besides I was meaning to ask you something.” He groaned at you not caring about what he said once again, dismissing the topic entirely but nodded nonetheless while cutting the plants that made it harder to move. It wasn’t like he wanted your bad, he just wanted you to be happy with someone who could understand you, be there for you...

But it seemed that your decision was made.

“You and Maria normally send me to further areas, you know close to bandits and Fireflies to kill them... Why are we patrolling a dead city?”

“Because... I don’t know, I just felt like there was gonna be something important...” he mumbled and looked to the back of the building you two were standing on, watching the area on a rooftop with guns ready. It wasn’t a good explaination, it wasn’t enough to convince you but you trusted him.

Besides it wouldn’t be too bad to go some sightseeing-

Seeing a movement in front of a building away, you squeezed your eyes to see it and cocked your gun out to zoom on them. Humans... Two humans, entering a building where there were probably a bunch of infected...

“Oh Jesus fuck..! Uhh, Tommy? I’m gonna say something but you aren’t gonna gasp and choke, okay?”

In the end, he did it anyways and you both ran to save whoever they were. Adrenaline pumped through you, getting slightly excited to kill an infected but you two rather found...

“Bandits... always popping out from somewhere...” you sneered angrily while ducking behind a wall, watching them taunt a little girl. You knew how bad those fuckers were and hurriedly made a plan. Tommy would circle behind them to get whatever you two needed while you dealed with them and later, you two would decide on what to do with the girl.

“Hello there~”

And in the end, they weren’t that strong to do any harm to you. All of them laid either dead or unconsccious, which was good enough for you turn and worry over the girl who had been watching you with wide eyes. She had never seen someone be so fast and strong, someone especially a woman make people shake in fear.

You were the first one she saw, after Joel...

“Hey, kid... Are you oka-“

“JOEL, DON’T!” Your body hit the ground harshly with a man on top of you, trying to attack you. The sight of a man above you brought unpleasant memories, resulting in your pulling your legs to yourself and kicking his stomach, knocking the air out of him. You brought your sword above your face as the man tried to hit you with one of his knives. You both grunted at the sheer force both sides applied and you widened your eyes at how the veins in his arms were popping.

Holy shit, just how strong is he-

“Joel, stop! She didn’t hurt me, she saved me!” Ellie screamed at Joel in fright, shaking off the ropes around her wrists to make him stop. The anger and adrenaline started to go away at hearing her voice and Joel was able to see what's in front of him...

A woman...

The red wore off and he got up on his feet while you jumped up and pointed yoyr sword to him, while he watched you warily with his hand above. “What the fuck you asshole? I saved your lives and this is the thanks?!”

Though you screamed, your face was still neutral with no hint of just how much you were scared a few minutes ago. “No one wanted your help, woman! Who the hell are you anyways?”

Before you could have opened your mouth, Tommy appeared from the door way and you instinctively tried to move closer to him...

But the sight of both men widening their eyes and slowly walking to each other made you and the young girl tilt your heads confused.

“Tommy?”

“Brother?”

Ain’t no way...

“For fucks sake, just when I think it couldn't be worse...” you sighed exasperatedly while swinging your sword around. Tommy chuckled and hugged Joel happily, seeing him well and alive had been one of his dreams and he never thought that the people they would be saving were them...

“It’s good to see you in one piece, brother.”

“It sure is, Tommy... God, I can’t believe- Where the hell were you?”

“I strayed a bit but then found a community, a safe place. I save the survivors and bring them there with her. You’re lucky that we have been patroling here and that she was here with me.” Joel eyes your form looking at Ellie’s wounds and helping her, still apprehensive of you. If the life he lived tought him something, it was to never trust anyone.

Especially ones who had such force with them, like you.

Seeing him look at you with pure bad intentions, non-trusting eyes, Tommy sighed and patted his shoulder. He knew that it would take a while for him to get used to you, with your snarky comments and his grumpy nature, but he hoped that you two would get along well. “ Look, I know what you’re thinking but she isn’t all that bad. You attacked her first and she did what any normal human would-“

“I can hear you two talking behind me, guys. I’m not deaf.” You pointed a knife to them carelessy while your back was turned and your crouched down to inspect her wound, to wrap a bandage around it.

“ Good, you were meant to...” You rolled your eyes at the man who stepped closer to you and looked at the girl closely for any injuries, and the ghost of a smile over his lips almost made you faint because holy shit, he actually smiles other than insulting!

“I don’t care if my brother trusts you, I don’t. And until I do, you aren’t getting close to us.”

“Oh yeah, and what were you planning to do with all the bandits and infected around?”

“What I have been doing for the past years, kid. Kill them. Something you clearly are bad at. Who do you think you are, just because you killed some men?”

“ Just a humble trash can trying to roll my way through life, old man. Who are you?” Normally you would have bit down your tongue and keep your sarcasm to yourself, especially in a situation like that. But all your comments always amused Tommy, and now Ellie too.

But not Joel.

All the things, all the deaths happened in front of him and all the stress came out like tide waves. Even a man like him had a limit and unfortunately, you were the one who was at the reciveing end.Both Tommy and and Ellie yelled at him when he cornered you against a wall, sneering at you but you didn’t phase. Men, no longer scared you. Especially those who were like Joel.

“Listen, if you think you can win me over with those sarcasm,  think again. I have seen and experineced more than you, lost more than you-“

“Oh yeah? I didn’t know your mind was amongst what you lost but here is the drill: You’re calling me selfish and mighty, but look at you, thinking your pain is worse than anyone. Let me tell you something quick, motherhugger,” you said, pointing your knife that always stood hidden to his stomach which caused him to step away from you and put a distance while he watched you with angry eyes, shocked to see such passion from you while Tommy tried to stop you from potentially killing him or saying anything you might regret later.

Because he knew that you would be offending him in the most dangerous way.

“ Maybe you lost someone dear to yourself, but trust me everyone in this room lost everything they had! We all faced death, and no one acts like the apocalypse only hit them! So, stop thinking with your dick above your head and let go of-“

The first rule of a zombie apocalypse was to be always careful for any movement around you...

The second one was to be silent...

And guess which one you didn’t apply?

The only sound that would stop an entire room and go silent in this world, was the sound of a Clicker.

And the only thing that would be able to scare Tommy, was four of them standing right before your group.

Joel thought that you would scream or trash around while he had to be the one handling the situation, but to his surprise you went silent and unmoving as a corpse, eyes strictly trained on the Clickers, watching them lurk deeper inside the building. Your eyes turned to Tommy who was keeping Ellie silent, and he shook his head agressively at what your eyes told him. Rolling your eyes at him, you nudged your head towards Joel and signed to him.

Tell your brother to let me go and deal with them before more of them comes...

“You can’t do that... There are so many of them, they never lurk alone...” he whispered angrily before you made a face that made him shut up.

“Cut the shit, Tommy... I’m the only one with the gear and you know of the things I did with this. So, Joel, move your ass so that I can save your asses.”

Lightly shoving him away from you, Joel made a move to stop you from getting yourself killed when Tommy stopped him with a shake of his head and he stayed back while you slowly moved away from them, an eye on the ground looking at the soil while Ellie nudged Tommy to ask what you were doing and he silently whispered to not alert anymore of them.

“ The infected are connected through soil, like a hive. One movement on the part where they are connected and a thousand of them would come... She is looking out so that she wouldn’t alert any...”

Joel nodded in amazement, his anger from before dying out and watching you walk cautiously. He didn’t expect someone to know that much, and probably that was one of the reasons you survived...

She wouldn’t be a bad partner... I guess...

It is odd, you thought while looking over the walls that had many fungi attached to it. When there were four of them here, now none could be seen except the ones glued to the wall at the corners in an odd shape.

They couldn’t have died that soon, right?

“Holy mother of rectangles...” Tommy and Joel turned to each other at your voice from the other side and followed the same path as you. When they entered they saw you closely looking at one of the infected with an amazed look and an unknown protective side made Joel run to you and snatch you away, not caring you utter in shock and amazement.

“Don’t come here! Those things spread spores like shit, you could get infected...” you held a spare mask out to him, urging him to take while he looked at you a bit baffled but accepted nonetheless. He took his lighter over his shoulder to put it on, and didn’t hold back from asking. “Why are being worried about me? Thought you wanted me dead?”

“Just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I care. Your death would be a minor inconvenience in my end but a major one on his. That’s all.” You said, pointing to where Tommy and Ellie were looking to find something while him and you were crouched down next to the body on the ground. What his brother said raked through Joel’s mind, that you knew a lot and that was one of the reasons you survived for so long, and at first he didn’t believe like any sane man. You didn’t look much older than 40, and you would have been a 20 something when the Outbreak happened...

But his curiousity got the best of him.

“You’re lookin’ at the body as if you had been doing that for a long time...”

“Do what exactly?”

“Inspecting bodies, analyzing, that type of shit.”

Snorting slightly at him and how he said all of those, probably understanding no shit, and how unfazed he was even after you telling him that you were fine with leaving him dead- though you didn’t really mean it- you bit your lip and got up while dusting yourself. “I used to do science when I was younger, anotomy always fascinated me... Too bad that... I can’t...” your voice slowly died down and Joel shook his head in question why you did so suddenly when his lighter found the two Clickers standing behind you and his eyes widened in fear...

What would have been a worry for his life only, now has spread to your life too... And it scared him more than the Clicker before him.

You looked ahead, not moving an inch, fearing that they might caught you and looked over to Tommy to see him with wide, scared eyes and a terrified Ellie. It was no wonder, Tommy had been your best friend for so long and Ellie was just a kid...

But what caught you off guard was that Joel having the same expression on his handsome face-

Wait, did I think of him as handsome or...

You squeezed your eyes momentarily and re-opened them, feeling their disgusting breath on your neck while the clicking sounds they made sent shivers down your spine. Your hand twitched, tingled to get a hold of your weapon and kill them...

And that was what you will be doing.

The swishing sound of a sword being pulled out alerted them and they ran to get to where the voice came from and Joel yelled curses at you while Tommy knew what was gonna happen in a few minutes.

Joel and Ellie watched you with shock as you swinged your swords to your back while the four Clicker from before came closer and killed them with one, clear cut, sending their head flying away. Unfortunately,  one of them hit the connection while dropping and the body you were inspecting before suddenly came back to life...

And Joel was its closest prey.

With a pounding heart, you readied yourself to throw the sword to him but a Runner came from nowhere and sent you tumbling down. It went straight to your neck, trying to bite on you but your sword stopped it from getting any close and with a kick to its body, it went away from you but not enough.

It’s not a big deal, that’s enough distance...

Taking out the axe you kept on your back, you cut its neck and it limped before going down and choking on its blood. You huffed out in relief, not having a zombie all over you when a gluttural growl made you turn swiftly to see that two more of them tried to attack Joel, Ellie And Tommy, the last one dropping his gun and being cornered alongside the other two. Not stopping to think even for a second before throwing both swords right at the back of the two Clickers, you sent them into the sweet embrace of death.

Tommy slumped back in relief and for a second, you thought the older male had heart attack when he snapped his neck up and scolded you angrily.

“If I die, I'm haunting you first, you crazy woman! Stop giving me scares all the god damn time! I’m old...” you giggled at him and pulled him up while Ellie did the same and pulled him to the exit with a deep heave.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous Tommy! At least your ghost would be stuck with a chick like me!”

Ellie, now shaking with amazement and a slight, barely-there fright let out a curse and you turned to look at her while pulling the swords out from the bodies and cleaning them for now.

“Whatever possessed you to do that should possess you more often... You just went woosh, and they went bam!” you smiled sweetly at the girl, kinda starting to have an impression how she was. She had the mouth of a sailor, that one was for sure. She was witty, and snarky much like you but still, there was a sweetness that coated her that you just wanted to hug her...

Not in your current state though.

Joel grumbled under his breath, and you bit your lips hard at hearing it. It seemed that no matter what you did, he would still hate you. And you didn’t see, but Tommy gave him dead stare for what he said, for causing slight tears to appear in your eyes.

“yeah it came a bit late... No wonder people died on her...”

“That’s it! What’s your problem with me, huh?” you took fast steps to him, panting angrily and feeling your hands go cold in fight or flight mode. Chest to chest while he looked down on you and chuckled humorlessly...

And spat his poison unmercilessly.

“ My problem is your saviour complex, honey. You act all smart and strong but I can see your true shit. You are a little girl who wasn’t able to do shit before, and thinks she is at the top of the world because she saved three people now...”

Snap...

Something snapped inside, heart breaking inside. You didn’t have to be reminded of your failures, of the count of how many people you had lost and how much blood you had on your hand Right at that moment, looking inside his brown eyes, all you wanted was to hurt him. Make him feel the same kind of pain he inflicted on you...

“You know what? You’re right... But at least I don’t act like I’m a saint when I killed people willingly. I worked my ass off to save them, to protect them when you only shed blood of others because your little heart was hurting. At least I got to save people, when you couldn’t save any...”

And with that, you slipped away and to the car outside to drive back to Jackson while Tommy and Joel had a scuffle with Tommy stopping Joel and defending you, calling out to how shitty he behaved and how he had to get along with you if he was gonna live in the city.

Damn, it’s gonna be one hell of a journey with them, right?

“Hey...”

“Hey.”

You watched the girl you saved alongside the man earlier, Ellie and Joel, you learnt later, sat down in front of you with a cautious yet noncholant face which made you raise a brow at her in question. For someone who had been chased by a Clicker, she seemed like she didn't care and was rather interested in your guns and fighting skills. Ever since you brought them to the safe zone you had helped Tommy and Maria build and protect, she always asked you questions about the “Tactical Gear” you had made which was the same gear the people in an anime you used to watch when young.

Happy, unaware of the future and your only worry being getting good grades...

But those days were no more.

Now all there was is blood, chaos and death in the apocalyptic world. Busses that once drove kids to school was now left to wither, the memories of the good days now a distant memory. Buildings that was once the sign of how strong the human kind was crushed under the heavy smell of death...

Mother Nature, in the end, took her sweet revenge in the most deadly way possible and you had no one to blame except yourself, and other humans.

The only part where you felt like crawling into your bed and cry like a little kid, was the children. So many times you crossed paths with them, and so many times there was nothing to do for them.

Except granting them a quick death.

It wasn’t by shooting, but a kind of poison to put them in a deep sleep, one that they could never wake up from...

One that you made back when you weren’t in Jackson, one that you used all of your scientific knowledges....

“So, uh... Ellie, right?” she nodded at you happilly and looked at you as if you were a star which made you chuckle slightly. You liked the girl for the smart-ass she was, and hearing her roast Joel was way funny to you.

And you guessed that they were both hungry and Tommy couldn’t cook anything to save his life. “I believe you’re hungry, as well as Joel. Do you like chicken?”

And if there was any reasons to not like you for Ellie, there was absolutely none, now that you offered the best looking full course of meal to her. “Holy shit, you made all these?!”

“Hmm, Jackson is far larger and bigger than you think it is. We have a healthy farm, and clean soil to grow food. The weather is fine here, too.”

“You are my second favourite person from now on, gosh this tastes amazing!” you smiled warmly at the blush on her cheeks and how happy she trully looked. It has been a while since I saw a kid genuinely happy in this shithole, you couldn’t help but think and sat down before her with a hum and a groan at the bruise forming on your back after being thrown away by one of the fuckers you saved them from.” Well, I guess it’s a good thing but who is the first one for you hmm?”

“Joel, of course. He found me and saved me first and you did for the second place.”  She didn’t lie when she said that, surprised that you actually thought of the man who insulted you, riduculed you right in front of them. You actually didn’t do it for his own good, buth for the sake of Tommy and it showed in the way your face twisted angrily.

Ah, that pain in the ass of a man...

You couldn’t help but let a scowl appear on your face, lips snarling and eyes burning. Ellie let out a “opps” and gulped down the last bit of her water hurriedly. “So, uh I know you and him don’t get along, after that exchange...”

She remembered how you went back and forth between throwing snarky comments at each other while walking back to the cars... With you not giving him a fuck which annoyed him more.

“Are you even listening, woman?!”

“Yes, it just takes some time for me to process all the stupidity all at once!”

Or that when time when you killed a horde of infected as cool as a cucumber that this time, it was him who couldn’t keep his tongue. “ She is crazy! It’s been a few hours that I knew her and I started to think I reached the bottom of it... Seems like there is a whole underground city there!”

Or that time when neither she nor Tommy understood whether you and Joel were flirting or fighting...

“ Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying, you newborn baby?!”

“Nah, darling but probably both...”

Ellie knew that he was both irritated and impressed by you, but apparently the only thing you felt for the man was... anger, by the angry scrubbing ot the plate as expected. Normally, she would boost whoever was making fun of him or having an argument but through time, she came to love him like a father, knew his soft side whenever he would shield her or give her the warm place to sleep.

So, she wanted you to see that side too.

“You know... Even though he doesn’t talk much, I know that Joel only talked like that because of the pain. He lost many people.”

“I know that Ellie, trust me. Even if he sees me some kind of a kid when I’m a whole ass adult.” You sighed exasperatedly and continued with cleaning around the kitchen while the girl watched you with keen eyes. Ever since you found them, she had been watching you, observing you. You mostly kept to yourself, never giving more than a few curt answers to them while walking ahead of the group, eyes careful for the slight noise that would alert you.

But deep down, she knew that you had a good, kind heart. She saw how you tried to give the quickest blow on those who were infected so that they wouldn’t hurt any longer than they already did, how you helped around the people around the safe zone...

You reminded her of how Joel was, she knew that he was amazed by you even though he said you were being stupid, and even though she heard Tommy talk about how Joel was at the first year of the outbreak... He still had enough goodness to help her and do what he was doing now.

Save as many as possible.

While she pouted at the thoughts running through her mind, she flinched when she heard the harsh thud of your hand on the counter and saw you bent over it while panting hard.

Anger, it was anger coursing through you.

It wasn’t like you hated his guts, no. You understood why he was the way he was, harsh and even rude, and for the sake of Tommy, you didn’t say anything but his behaviour...

He was acting like he was the only one who lost everything.

And he had no right for that.

“ I can understand the pain he went through Ellie, really. But you can’t tell me that he is the only one. Fred, Dina, Eric, everyone! Even Gustavo, the ever cheerful man, lost someone!” your chest heaved up and down, harsh breaths leaving you while memories of your past life resurfaced.

Blood, screams, tears, more blood...

Ellie was, for once, left speechless as you burst out. She had seen some people do that, not in front of her though, and thought of you to be that invincible woman.

But the dangling bracelet said otherwise.

She felt her heart pound at her chest, breaking a little as the single tear that ran down your cheek and scooted closer to your form on the chair sitting defeatedly, playing with that red string your sisters gave to you before they...

“I used to have a family too, despite what might people think...” She gasped silently at the words, realizing you wanted to tell her your story, unaware of the man standing behind you.

“You know the kind where they annoyed each other but loved everyone so much? Yeah, that was my life. My only worry was to get high grades, graduate and do what I love. I would occasionally take care of my two sisters, who were in my opinion little gremlins, who wouldn’t leave me alone.” Ellie smiled at that, even though she didn’t know what you were talking about. But she understood that they were your family, people to be always there for you and... she knew that feeling.

“ Before the shit went down, they came barging in my room in the middle of studying and begged me to close my eyes, putting the bracelet around my wrist happily. They said that even if they annoyed me, it was because they loved me and that I was the best big sister ever... And then, the infection happened, everything went to south and now we were trying to survive while protecting our mental health.” Looking at the almost worn out bracelet in thought, your heart clenched painfuly at your chest and you brought a hand to where your heart was, rubbing it for some comfort while Joel watched you with wide eyes and guilt crawling inside him like a spider.

Never in his long life would he think that someone so stern, rude and cold would endure all of these... Endure what happened to him. He felt the sharp pricks of guilt hit him heavily and after 20 years, he felt like a total douche for treating you with nothing but harshness. He remembered how he said that it was normal for people to die on you, as if you weren’t capable enough to protect and fight...

And how it affected you...

But, a part of him wanted to listen more, hear more about you and your story. He felt like you wouldn’t be this vulnerable with anyone, let alone him after asking about you around the town only to receive shrugs, and this was his one chance at understanding you and he shuffled closer to the door when you spoke again.

“ It was first my mom, who got infected. My dad, the man I thought that wouldn’t break, couldn’t kill her and after securing my sisters, he gave me his gun and told me to kill both of them... I was just 16-17 or something, I didn’t understand why he was doing it. But soon got my answers when he let her bite him and he too became one of them. That was my first two kills, to protect my sisters. Even to this day I still blame my dad for everything that happened but a part of me understood why. He just didn’t want to be without her, knowing that he was her killer... But wanted me to live as their killer.”

“You aren’t their killer, I’m sure that they also know it. Humans had done far worse things than that and I dunno, I just feel like they are happy you did that because if you didn’t, someone else would and you would be both dead.”

“Maybe, you’re right... Still doesn’t help though. Anyways after that, I did anything, anything to protect them. I became the shell of the girl I was, killed mercilessly, trained non-stop and became one of the most feared woman. I raised two girls when I was a child, protected them from the insane part of humans...” you spat the last sentence disgusted and both Joel and Ellie tilted their heads at the meaning behind it.

“What do you mean by that?”

Chuckling humorlessly, you faced the girl with a sad stare. You didn’t want her to know everything, but she too was a girl and the world that waited her wasn’t good anymore.

It was her destiny.

“You don’t know, but the way women and children were treated when this shit didn’t happen was bad. Women was raped, children was kidnapped, there were pedophiles who raped or assaulted kids... And those all happened even when there were laws and governments. No punishment was given, and police wouldn’t do anything about it... What do you think would happen to them in a world like this?”

Joel clenched his hands angrily at what you said, knowing how bad it was. He remembered how many times he watched them on the breaking news, how Tommy and Sarah would look in disgust and worry...

No wonder you had been that cold to him, and was able to knock the air out of him when he jumped on you, thinking of you another bandit, fear evident on your orbs for a second.

His heart softened at everything he learnt, how similar your lives were. Your sisters are lucky to have you, they would be good friends with Ellie- Seriously, where are they? The house seems empty-

“I’m... I’m sorry.” Ellie seriously didn’t know what she should think. She wasn’t stupid by any means, she understood  what you meant and felt envy. She never had a person like that in her life, no one was there to protect her until Joel and she couldn’t help but wonder if you would do the same for her.

But a part of her, a part of humanity and child, wanted to meet them and see how amazing they were. Were they like you? Better? Where were they?

“Your sisters must be proud of you so much! I really want to meet them, where are-“

“I hope you never do, Ellie...” you smiled at her obvious innocence and squeezed your chest as if you were in pain at how she reminded you of them. Ellie tilted her head curiously, not understanding why you suddenly became 10 times older and why you didn’t want her to meet them...

But Joel did.

“No, don’t say that...”

“Because they are dead, Ellie... I killed her.”

Her mouth was left open at shock, not expecting that much to happen to you. She knew that a lot happened to you, that you did pretty unimaginable things... But this was too much even for a grown-up.

“How did it...” she asked unsure, her mind slowly realizing that you were no hero but a real human.

“The older one begged to come with me and I let her, she was 15 at the time. It was a simple mission but there were a bunch Clickers and one suddenly jumped at us. I was able to move away but... she wasn’t. It bit her and she begged me to kill her so that she wouldn’t turn to them. I had to do it and... well, she died between my arms.” You shrugged your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you anymore but in reality, you were crushing under it.

The way your sister screamed at you in anguish to kill her..

Sister, please! I don’t wanna be like them!

“And what about the other one?”

“The fuckers who hated me waited so that I would leave, they killed the man I trusted the youngest one with and kidnapped her... I searched everywhere, every place but... I guess she is also dead too... For days, I wasn’t able to wash off her blood and for months after that, the only thing I saw was blood of them...and the hands of a murderer...”

Silence welcomed you, Ellie was heartbroken for all the things that happened to you and even more amazed at how you still had that good side in you. She always wanted to be a strong woman, but now that an amazing role model was sitting down before her, she knew what her next goal was.

You gave a soft smile at the girl who was already worming inside your heart and got up, slapping your knees playfully and trying to ease the sad vibes.

“And that’s the story of how I became that cold bitch around here! I’m sorry I dumped my trauma at you but I guess, I kinda needed-“ your voice died down at the shocked man standing beside your door, hands crossed in front of his chest while he stood frozen, not expecting you to turn around so fast. Your face went pale at the realization, knowing that he heard everything. Clenching your hands thighter on your sides, Ellie’s curse went to deaf ear by both adults who were busy looking at each other.

And you were surprised to see a tear sitting at the corner of his eyes.

Joel wasn’t  a stranger to self-loathing, to hate himself more than anyone in this world. He, too killed people and most of the times, he didn‘t care. Maybe, that was one of the reasons he got angry at you for pointing that out.

Because you were right

The first night it all happened, he saw how humanity would go berserk with one little thing and how government would do anything to protect their power.

How they would kill without a reason and decided that why couldn’t he do that too, if the worl wanted him to?

But looking at you, he trully never believed you to be a murderer, even when his tongue betrayed him. Not because of your smaller form but for the way you still had compassion, saved people to get them to a safe zone. He was shocked to see many of town’s folk greeting you happily while children horded around you and jow sweetly you smiled at them even when you were dead tired. And for the first time ever since meeting you, he trully looked at you for you and saw how kind and nice you were. How authoritative you were but gentle enough to pat the heads of the children and selfless enough when one of the younger teen in your squead came rushing to you with a happy frin and whispered something in your ear that made you grin at the young boy.

He would never say it to your face, but he found you to be slightly annoying and pretty much impressing. The brutal force you used required to be trained all the time and your agility and stealth was not to be messed with.

It was enough for him to not realize that you sneaked upon him with him noticing.

He cursed at himself for being an asshole to you, especially after learning why you were the way you were. Tommy’s words rang in his mind and for once, he wished that he wasn’t right, that he wasn’t fucked up and needed to apologize...

You don’t know her story, Joel... You two are more alike than you realize...

Too bad that he only stood like a dumb young boy there, umable to form words which only fueled your anger.

You scoffed at him, even though he didn’t do anything bad particularly. But protecting your dignity was more important at that time and that was what you did.

“Wow you are really a douche enough to barge in my home and listen, huh? Didn’t expected that low from you, Miller.” You said, disappointed and tired while slipping away and into the street with Ellie running after you, worrying meanwhile Joel tried to find a way to do something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Apologize.

But for now, you didn’t want any apologies. You didn’t want to see people, and their pity.

You just needed air.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine #tlou imagine #tlou x you #tlou x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[sapphic-woes]

Ambessa but with a primal kink—

Gonna do this with royal!reader. I sat on this for a bit cuz I thought I'd have time to write a short or smth but after having the Alcina fic that was basically this, some hcs instead:

This is so up her ally, I can see this happening while you're wearing some flowy lingerie she bought for you, like a long black or white sheer robe. Something that looks dramatic when your run lmao.

Perhaps here it's with the royal reader. I can imagine you're just curious at first, asking her what it feels like to fight another person, to look at them and want to take their life, to pursue them with that killing intent, and what it felt like when she succeeded.

She describes it to you as the feeling being much like a predator to a prey. She lies in bed with you beside her, voice a steady murmur as her fingers brush over your side. "There's a reason why they call it a bloodlust. The line between the desire to kill and to love is a fickle thing. You can love a thing so greatly that when it's in your hands all you want to do is squeeze...until you crush it."

She goes on like that, and it's an intellectual, enlightening conversation...but it also makes you squirm.

The way she muddles the difference between what you know as love, and the carnal, near primal desire of human beings...is frightening to you. Ambessa understands it well...almost suspiciously too well, this seemingly unfiltered and raw kind of love.

In reality, Ambessa very clearly knows what she's doing.

She caught your little squirming easily, along with the confused, glazed eyes you fixed on her. She found your curiosity adorable, but like usual, you needed a little pushing before she could suggest anything. Now with your warm cheeks and heavy breathing...

"Would you like to try it?" You gulped, looking up into your warlord's warm, teasing gaze. "Being hunted down as my little prey? Ah–" Ambessa leaned back, as though thinking.

"But you are a princess, and I wouldn't want to insult–"

"Y-yes!" You quickly spoke, and from Ambessa's smirk...you vaguely realized that might of been a bit of a trap.

Ambessa let's you have a head start. She's not greedy. You both have the entire palace to use as your playground, and she wants to see you truly dishelved, weak, and looking at her like she really will swallow you whole.

Of course, the warlord gets what she wants.

You've never seen Ambessa use her brute strength on you. You've seen her spar, protect you and defend herself. But against you?

You wait just around the corner for her to pass. You think she's gone this way–at least, you heard her do so a moment ago. Suddenly, something flashes from the corner of your eye. Huh? You turn just in time for a hand to slam onto the wall, war torn fingers inches short of your face.

Oh my God.

Your frightful cry is overshadowed by her booming, terrifying laughter. It echoes through the halls, bouncing around your fleeing form as you sprint, desperate to get away. Ambessa walks with quick, yet leisure strides behind you, as if she knows that no matter your efforts she'll catch you soon enough. She calls out to you in a deep, sing song voice.

"Did I scare you, my little princess? Don't worry–I'll do much worse when I have you in my hands."

When she decides to finally catch you, it's in the bathhouse.

The steam makes it hard to see her until it's too late–and suddenly there are thick arms around you, pulling you underwater. When you break the surface you sputter, quickly turning red when you feel Ambessa's bare breasts against your back. Your own attire hides nothing now that it's drenched, and your warlord is particularly happy she got it for you at this moment.

She doesn't say too much, chasing you was fun, but seeing your wide eyes and heaving chest, your soft pleas to spare me like honey dripping over her ears...

She's a bit. Heated.

So it's growls in your ears and snarled out commands, pinning your arms to the edge of the bath to fuck you senseless. She's rougher than usual, hands pressing hard enough to leave light bruises and bites all over your skin. You feel a bit like a ragdoll under her touch, tossed into position after position until your full of tears and begging for her to be satisfied, because God fucking damnit–at this rate, she might kill you.

So. In conclusion, that day you find out how very intertwined regular lust...and bloodlust is for your precious warlord :)

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #dude ill be honest i dunno if this is even right #i researched. I am a stem major I under the power of research but i was still bamboozled #confuzzled if u will #i have a vague understanding of wat primal kink is and i hope this worked out #but this is wat i mean when im like yall believe in me too much i dunno anything suvsisbdidbdk #im happy ive tricked yall into thinking i do tho lmao #thank u for the ask♥️ #bibi answers

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 15

Chapter 14: So anyway, when do we kill him

I need to start this off with a full Previously On, and you’ll see why in a minute:

Fair damsel Flora Bannerworth was attacked one night by a befanged, leaden-eyed vampyre. Her mother mostly faints about it; it’s her two brothers, Henry and George, who have been trying to protect her and figure out what the fuck is going on. Their allies are their housemate/kinda-uncle, Mr. Marchdale, who was once their mother’s sweetheart before she chose the brothers’ shitheel father (RIP) instead; Flora’s recently returned fiancé, the virtuous young artist Charles Holland; and a Mr. Dr. Chillingworth, who thinks vampyres are bullshit. Amid several incidents where various Bannerworths shoot the vampyre, Henry realizes that the ancestor in a spooky portrait in Flora’s bedroom is one and the same. But also, a mysterious new neighbor keeps offering to buy the family estate. In the last two chapters, Henry and Marchdale paid a visit to this Sir Francis Varney, only to realize that HE is the vampyre/ancestor. Henry said to his face, “HOLY SHIT, YOU’RE THE VAMPYRE.” And the vampyre said, “Nah.”

None of these characters and none of these settings are in this chapter. Instead, two entirely new characters are introduced (for 4800 words). You are either going to love this, or you are going to hate this.

Chapter XV.

THE OLD ADMIRAL AND HIS SERVANT. -- THE COMMUNICATION FROM THE LANDLORD OF THE NELSON'S ARMS.

We've already been told that the servants (both the ones who immediately quit after the vampyring, and the replacements who reluctantly agreed to start working at Bannerworth Hall) have run out and told everybody in the neighborhood everything; Henry's already had total randos ask him about The Horrors. We're told now that:

The servants, who had left the Hall on no other account, as they declare, but sheer fright at the awful visits of the vampyre, spread the news far and wide, so that in the adjoining villages and market-towns the vampyre of Bannerworth Hall became quite a staple article of conversation. [...] Everywhere then, in every house, public as well as private, something was being continually said of the vampyre. [...] But nowhere was gossiping carried on upon the subject with more systematic fervour than at an inn called the Nelson's Arms, which was in the high street of the nearest market town to the Hall. There, it seemed as if the lovers of the horrible made a point of holding their head quarters, and so thirsty did the numerous discussions make the guests, that the landlord was heard to declare that he, from his heart, really considered a vampyre as very nearly equal to a contested election.

Ahhh, contested elections. Sad lol. But now, we're told, on the very evening of the day that Henry accused Varney of being a vampyre, and Varney just shrugged, two new characters that we don't know shit about have arrived:

One of these people was a man who seemed fast verging upon seventy years of age, although, from his still ruddy and embrowned complexion and stentorian voice, it was quite evident he intended yet to keep time at arm's-length for many years to come. He was attired in ample and expensive clothing, but every article had a naval animus about it, if we may be allowed such an expression with regard to clothing. On his buttons was an anchor, and the general assortment and colour of the clothing as nearly assimilated as possible to the undress naval uniform of an officer of high rank some fifty or sixty years ago. His companion was a younger man, and about his appearance there was no secret at all. He was a genuine sailor, and he wore the shore costume of one. He was hearty-looking, and well dressed, and evidently well fed.

James Malcolm Rymer's favorite humor format is Characters Who Don't Talk Classy Lmao:

"Heave to!" [the younger man] then shouted to the postillion, who was about to drive the chaise into the yard. "Heave to, you lubberly son of a gun! we don't want to go into the dock." "Ah!" said the old man, "let's get out, Jack. This is the port; and, do you hear, and be cursed to you, let's have no swearing, d -- n you, nor bad language, you lazy swab."

Lol. Rofl, even.

The Younger Man is Jack Pringle, and he helpfully informs The Old Man, one Admiral Bell, that he has been his [the Admiral's] walley de sham on dry land for ten years. The Dictionaries of the Scots Language (before and after 1700)  inform us that this term is derived from the French valet de chambre, a personal servant. (The search also turned up some British and Irish usage, and Jack does not otherwise sound Scottish, or even "Scottish.") Interestingly, when I googled this phrase, the image search tab pulled up nothing but Varney the Vampire illustrations. None of them had Jack or the Admiral.

I'm belaboring this point because about 85% of this chapter is just these two characters squabbling and it is draining my will to live.

"Be quiet, will you!" shouted the admiral, for such indeed he was. "Be quiet." [...] "Belay there," said Jack; and he gave the landlord what he considered a gentle admonition, but which consisted of such a dig in the ribs, that he made as many evolutions as the clown in a pantomime when he vociferated hot codlings.

"Hot Codlings" is a song from a Mother Goose pantomime. What evolutions are vociferating. Why are words doing this. Where are we.

Bruised and confused, the landlord of the Nelson's Arms is doing his best to be hospitable; finally, the Admiral reveals that he has been sent a letter asking him to stop at this very inn, here in Uxotter (which might be Uttoxeter), by one Josiah Crinkles:

"Who the deuce is he?"

I don't know, you're the one who just drove up! The landlord cannot seem to get anything useful out of his mouth for several lines, because James Malcolm Rymer gets paid more that way. Note: "d -- -- d" will show up several times; it's just "damned," censored, and it's the expletive these two mostly fall back on:

"I'll make you smile out of the other side of that d -- -- d great hatchway of a mouth of yours in a minute. Who is Crinkles?" [The landlord:] "Oh, Mr. Crinkles, sir, everybody knows. A most respectable attorney, sir, indeed, a highly respectable man, sir." [Several lines of banter] "To come a hundred and seventy miles to see a d -- -- d swab of a rascally lawyer!"

But then, Jack Pringle says something interesting:

"Well, but where's Master Charles? Lawyers, in course, sir, is all blessed rogues; but howsomedever, he may have for once in his life this here one of 'em have told us of the right channel, and if so be as he has, don't be the Yankee to leave him among the pirates. I'm ashamed of you."

Who in this story do we know named Charles? We'll get to that several hundred words from now. Meanwhile, a bit more of the rapport between Jack Pringle and the Admiral:

"You infernal scoundrel; how dare you preach to me in such a way, you lubberly rascal?" "Cos you desarves it." "Mutiny -- mutiny -- by Jove! Jack, I'll have you put in irons -- you're a scoundrel, and no seaman." "No seaman! -- no seaman!"

The fact that this line does not end with the dialogue tag "he ejaculated" is one of literature's great tragedies.

This goes on for so long that it starts to take on a nonsensical—dadaist? that can't be right? what is happening. I don't know—quality:

"Confound you, who is doing it?" "The devil." "Who is?" "Don't, then."

Over a couple hundred words, Jack and the Admiral demand grog and a private room at the inn, and for the landlord to send for one Mr. Josiah Crinkles ("and tell him Jack Pringle is here too"). After jawing a while about how they'll serve this rascally lawyer out howsomedever, Jack says something interesting again:

"And, then, again, he may know something about Master Charles, sir, you know. Lord love him, don't you remember when he came aboard to see you once at Portsmouth?"

And right when you think we might hear who Master Charles is, they start arguing again, this time about the time they were yard arm to yard arm with those two Yankee frigates (wait they were what now? when now? the War of 1812, maybe? they can't both be old enough for the American Revolution?) and "you didn't call me a marine then," which is insulting and distinct from "seaman" in some way,

"when the scuppers were running with blood. Was I a seaman then?" "You were, Jack -- you were; and you saved my life." "I didn't." "You did."

CHRIST ALMIGHTY THEY KEEP ARGUING ABOUT THIS (bickering is how they show they care) until finally the landlord, with a flourish, ushers in one Mr. Josiah Crinkles.

A little, neatly dressed man made his appearance, and advanced rather timidly into the room. Perhaps he had heard from the landlord that the parties who had sent for him were of rather a violent sort. "So you are Crinkles, are you?" cried the admiral. "Sit down, though you are a lawyer."

There is no respect for lawyers in the Admiral's house! Ship! Room! We are now about halfway through the chapter. God give me strength. The Admiral bids Josiah Crinkles read the full supercut of the letter from Josiah Crinkles, aloud. I will reproduce it in full whether you like it or not:

"To Admiral Bell. "Admiral, -- Being, from various circumstances, aware that you take a warm and a praiseworthy interest in your nephew Charles Holland,

CHARLES HOLLAND BABY

I venture to write to you concerning a matter in which your immediate and active co-operation with others may rescue him from a condition which will prove, if allowed to continue, very much to his detriment, and ultimate unhappiness. "You are, then, hereby informed, that he, Charles Holland, has, much earlier than he ought to have done, returned to England, and that the object of his return is to contract a marriage into a family in every way objectionable, and with a girl who is highly objectionable. "You, admiral, are his nearest and almost his only relative in the world; you are the guardian of his property, and, therefore, it becomes a duty on your part to interfere to save him from the ruinous consequences of a marriage, which is sure to bring ruin and distress upon himself and all who take an interest in his welfare. "The family he wishes to marry into is named Bannerworth, and the young lady's name is Flora Bannerworth. When, however, I inform you that a vampyre is in that family, and that if he married into it, he marries a vampyre, and will have vampyres for children,

Remember what I said about family stains and tainted bloodlines?

"I trust I have said enough to warn you upon the subject, and to induce you to lose no time in repairing to the spot. "If you stop at the Nelson's Arms in Uxotter, you will hear of me. I can be sent for, when I will tell you more. "Yours, very obediently and humbly, "JOSIAH CRINKLES." P.S. I enclose you Dr. Johnson's definition of a vampyre, which is as follows: "VAMPYRE (a German blood-sucker) -- by which you perceive how many vampyres, from time immemorial, must have been well entertained at the expense of John Bull, at the court of St. James, where nothing hardly is to be met with but German blood-suckers."

I was legitimately about five minutes from hitting post with this written as "I despair of figuring out who Dr. Johnson is," when suddenly I managed to dredge SAMUEL JOHNSON WITH THE DICTIONARY!! out of my covid-riddled brain. ~Dr. Johnson didn't define "vampyre" (any spelling), so whatever Rymer's on about here, he made it up himself with a wink to the reader.

I also wasn't going to deal with the fact that vampyres are suddenly German rather than Norwegian, or Swedish, or Levantine, or Arabian. But then I realized that this might be related to that time Empress Maria Theresa sent a guy out to deal with A Vampire Problem. (The fact that I'm the kind of person who would go, "Oh, right, the Austrian vampire problem" is why I'm recapping this godforsaken serial in the first place.) And you might refer to vampires as "German" because all the areas involved, including the Austrian Empire, were in the German Confederation at the time Rymer was writing in the 1840s. Referred to as "the 18th-Century Vampire Controversy,"

The panic began with an outbreak of alleged vampire attacks in East Prussia in 1721 and in the Habsburg monarchy from 1725 to 1734, which spread to other localities. [...] The problem was exacerbated by rural epidemics of so-called vampire attacks, undoubtedly caused by the higher amount of superstition that was present in village communities, with locals digging up bodies and in some cases, staking them.

I gotta refer you here back to Chapter 14 last week, in which we discussed a Romanian incident of this nature that happened in 2003. Meanwhile, back in the 18th century, some real-true vampire history is unfolding: this panic was the subject of Dom Augustine Calmet's classic Treatise on the Apparitions of Spirits and on Vampires or Revenants of Hungary, Moravia, et al. ("Numerous readers, including both a critical Voltaire and numerous supportive demonologists interpreted the treatise as claiming that vampires existed.") The hysteria spread to Austria, where Empress Maria Theresa sent her personal physician to sort this shit out; there is a movie somewhere to be made about Gerard van Swieten, Vampire Hunter. Except for the fact that he came to the conclusion that vampires were bullshit in his report, Discourse on the Existence of Ghosts; as a result, Maria Theresa decreed that her subjects must stop digging up corpses and doing unfortunate vampire-hunter things to them. (Or is that just what they wanted us to think??) "Dr. Johnson's" definition of vampyres as German could have been referring to any/all of the Controversy, and it has more real-life historical basis than Vampyres of Norway. So I'll allow it. *gavel*

by which you perceive how many vampyres, from time immemorial, must have been well entertained at the expense of John Bull, at the court of St. James, where nothing hardly is to be met with but German blood-suckers.

Wait, what?

Is this referring to young Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert, being German? Is this like the mystifying snark about "German princes" earlier? Have I finally cracked this? British citizens were chortling over their penny papers at such political humor, I guess?

Meanwhile, the Admiral is bellowing; the lawyer is stammering. What we come to understand, after all my digressions about German vampyres, is:

Josiah Crinkles didn't write this letter.

And he has no idea who did. He's only heard of Admiral Bell "as one of those gallant officers who have spent a long life in nobly fighting their country's battles, and who are entitled to the admiration and the applause of every Englishman." Well, when you put it that way: Jack and the Admiral decide that Josiah Crinkles, Esq., is a fine and honorable gentleman, even if he is a lawyer! I sure hope you didn't have anywhere you meant to go today!

"No. I'm d -- -- d if you go like that," said Jack, as he sprang to the door, and put his back against it. "You shall take a glass with me in honour of the wooden walls of Old England, d -- -e ["damn me"?], if you was twenty lawyers."

Uh, slow down with the false imprisonment there. What Josiah does know is a little bit about the Bannerworth family, by which I mean everything, and we're gonna hear all about it, again, because James Malcolm Rymer got bills.

There is still another 1700 words left in this chapter, by the way.

"Shiver my timbers!" said Jack Pringle, [...] -- "Shiver my timbers, if I knows what a wamphigher is, unless he's some distant relation to Davy Jones!"

Jack Pringle's interpretations of the word "vampyre" is maybe my favorite thing about the entire serial.

Jack and the Admiral bickering for another 300 words is maybe my least favorite thing about the entire serial. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THE VAMPYRE? "It appears that one night Miss Flora Bannerworth, a young lady of great beauty, and respected and admired by all who—Jack and the Admiral are still bickering. Nobly, Josiah Crinkles continues to recap chapters 1 and 2 for us (in fairness, this may have actually been helpful to penny dreadful readers in 1845). But what of the Admiral's nephew? Josiah knows nothing, much less what was written in the letter. You'd think it was Varney being nefarious, except that I don't know how he would know anything about Charles, either. One wonders who might.

[A couple hundred words of bickering]

The Admiral asks Josiah what he would do about a nephew who "has got a liking for this girl, who has had her neck bitten by a vampyre, you see."

[Josiah:] "Taking, my dear sir, what in my humble judgment appears a reasonable view of this subject, I should say it would be a dreadful thing for your nephew to marry into a family any member of which was liable to the visitations of a vampyre." "It wouldn't be pleasant." "The young lady might have children." "Oh, lots," cried Jack. "Hold your noise, Jack." "Ay, ay, sir." "And she might herself actually, when after death she became a vampyre, come and feed on her own children."

I did not remember any of this when I wrote the Consequences of Your Decision to Propagate the Family Stain section, and I'm starting to feel very smart for putting it in.

"Whew!" whistled Jack; "she might bite us all, and we should be a whole ship's crew o' wamphigaers. There would be a confounded go!"

For some reason, this bit is just absolutely fucking iconic to me. Indeed, Jack. In case of wamphigaers, the go would be confounded.

The Admiral steels himself to see "to the very bottom of this affair, were it deeper than fathom ever sounded. Charles Holland was my poor sister's son; he's the only relative I have in the wide world, and his happiness is dearer to my heart than my own." Having changed his mind about d-- -- d lawyers, Jack Pringle wishes Josiah Crinkles well, and he and the Admiral resolve to go find Charles at once—"our nevy," that is to say, "nephew," so—our nephew? Well, Jack and the Admiral definitely have an "argumentative life partners" vibe, be they employer and walley or not. So they'll go see Charles,

"see the young lady too, and lay hold o' the wamphigher if we can, as well, and go at the whole affair broadside to broadside, till we make a prize of all the particulars, arter which we can turn it over in our minds agin, and see what's to be done." "Jack, you are right. Come along."

As I've said, I did read halfway through the entire serial some ten years ago. These two are (give or take) 67% exhausting and 33% hilarious when deployed at just the right narrative moment. I'll run the numbers again once we're a few more chapters in.

Varney the Vampire masterpost

#varney the vampire #vampire studies #wampfaster wamplonger wamphigher #wamphigaers #a confounded go #vampires #long post #recaps

[iwaoiness]

Cliché

"K-Kyaa!" She shrieks as she falls backwards into the void, onto those dangerous, sloping stairs. A tall, strong boy, runs swiftly to her aid, reaching out his arms to catch the delicate body, embracing her once she was in his protection.

"Wow, what a fright! Are you all right?" He asks and the girl turns her face at him, blushing as she sees herself reflected in those sea eyes that even sparkle as he observes how beautiful she is.

"Y-yes..." She murmurs, both losing themselves in each other's gaze, both opening the box of love.

Or that's what Oikawa would have paid to have happen to him.

Iwaizumi continues to sip his apple juice, his expressionless gaze fixed on the inerne, face-down body of his best friend at the foot of the stairs where he just fell (fortunately, he only jumped from the bottom two steps). He sighs as the seconds pass and Tooru still doesn't move even a finger, finally deciding to walk down the stairs towards him.

"Oi, are you dead?" He asks, gently kicking his body with the toe of his shoe.

" ... No, unfortunately." He mutters, slowly raising his head, thus showing his shadowed face, with a noticeable reddish hue marked on his forehead and nose due to the blow.

"I told you it wouldn't be a good idea." He reminds him, returning to sipping his drink.

"Shut up, Iwa-chan, I felt it!"

He sighs in frustration, sitting down on the cold floor, rubbing his forehead before pulling out the sheet of paper he has stashed in his pocket. He opens it and with a grimace, reads the third cliché of is Top10 romance clichés for finding your soulmate or die trying.

3. Falling from somewhere high and getting caught by the crush.

"Shit, why didn't Aoyama-senpai cross this area? She always passes through here at this time to go to his damn basket club! What made her change her damn way today?!" He speaks angrily, glaring at the list as if it were to blame for all his misfortunes.

"Why didn't you look before you fell?"

"I had to fall backwards and then turn around in mid-air to make it look like it was accidental! How do you want me to fall facing forward?! Anyone could tell for miles that I was faking it! And why didn't you warn me, Iwa-chan?!" He points his finger accusingly at him from the ground and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes before squatting down in front of him.

"Because this fucking plan was as likely to fail as all the other bullshit you've done." He explains calmly, arching an eyebrow as he recalls the others items of his stupid list that ended in utter failure, such as the fated collision when turning a corner (Tooru ended up hitting the most annoying sensei in Kitagawa Daiichi and was punished with extra cleaning services for two weeks) or the faked fainting in the middle of the courtyard so senpai would carry him (Tooru ended up being carried by a nervous and very worried Kindaichi).

"How rude, Iwa-chan, playing with the feelings of a poor sensitive boy who just wants to look for true love!" He squeals with fake crocodile tears peeking out of his eyes, too round and too pretty for his own good.

"Cut it out, Shitykawa, you don't suit that stupid shojo protagonist attitude at all."

"Hell, I thought it did." He's back to his grumpy pout in the blink of an eye and Iwaizumi snatches his list from him, rereading it over and seeing the sheer number of lines drawn over each scene, discarding them.

All but one.

He reads it and his eyes sparkled momentarily.

"Oikawa."

"If you're going to keep disrespecting me, don't bother, Iwa-chan."

"You've got one more to prove."

"What?" He arches an eyebrow in intrigue now, leaning in very close to his best friend to read his sheet. "Which one?"

"This one." Hajime drops the paper and takes Tooru's chin, lifting his face to him and then planting his lips on his in an apple juice-flavoured kiss that leaves Oikawa wide-eyed and breath catching in his throat.

It's a few seconds, but enough to completely altered Oikawa, who feels his cheeks burning and his heart stuttering inside his chest because Iwa-chan is kissing me, Iwa-chan is kissing me, IWA-CHAN IS FUCKING KISSING ME.

And when they break apart, Iwaizumi slowly opens his eyes, revealing that amazing mixture of gold and moss that now shines in a whole new light for Tooru. Hajime gets up from the ground and hides one of his hands in his trouser pocket as if nothing is wrong while his other hand continues to hold his juice.

"Hurry up, Sillykawa, break is going to be over soon."

Tooru continues on the ground, blinking owlishly and gaping in a rather comical expression as his best friend (his fucking best friend who just fucking kissed him on the fucking mouth) walks away back to the building.

"Wh-what... What was that?!" He finally bursts out, waking up from his shock. He hurries up from the ground to run over to his friend. "Hey, Iwa-chan, wait for me! W-why did you do that?! You were supposed to corner me against the wall before the kiss! Kabedon is the cliché of clichés! You stole my first kiss in such a crappy way, I won't forgive you! Are you listening to me, Iwa-chan?! Iwa-chan!"

He doesn't think it was weird. He doesn't think it was disgusting. He doesn't think that it was horrible. Oikawa just think that Hajime's lips aren't as dry as they look, that they're soft and full, and that there's something about them that makes his heart do that strange doki-doki.

He doesn't know if falling in love with your childhood best friend is a cliché, but he plans to find out, write it down on his stupid list, and stick to it.

...

i love dramatikawa sm

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

#iwaoi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu!! #oikawa x iwaizumi #haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #hq fluff #bl boys #kitagawa daiichi #childhood friends #cliches #fluff and humor #first kiss #oikawa being dramatic #bi panic #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #iwaoi drabble

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ Izzy "Something LGBT+ Just Happened To Me" Hands has been haunting me all my life week so I just had to write something, based on the promos for next week. Spoilers, obviously.

For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Izzy Hands, Lucius Spriggs, with a healthy dose of whoops I tripped and fell into Izzy x Lucius and I actually kinda like it down here (weird but platonic is fine too if you'd prefer) Tags: Canon Typical Homophobia/Internalised Homophobia, brief mention of a suicide attempt. But the story is really soppy and fluffy I swear.

Panto

Stede Fucking Bonnet. If there’s one thing he has to credit the man with, Izzy thinks, it’s that he has a natural knack for beauty the likes of which is not often seen on these seven seas. He looks around at the strings and strings of lanterns which light up the deck like stars and feels … something. Something warm and healing and dangerous and terrifying. It’s in Jim’s smile as Frenchie and Oluwande help adjust one of Bonnet’s jackets for their more slender frame. Archie is arm wrestling with Black Pete and she has a nautical star on her wrist he’s never noticed before. Even their Captain is here, helping Wee John pin some accessories to a dress more bold and glittering and blue than all the treasure in the world and Izzy feels- Izzy… feels…

“Like what you see?”

He jumps near out of his skin, hand flying to the hilt of his sword out of sheer instinct. But it’s just Lucius. He sneers as threateningly as he can muster, but he’s already lost this one. He just can’t get under the kid’s skin these days. And the little fucker knows it. Lucius smiles, sidling up to adjust his already, always, perfect tie.

“Looks like I gave you a bit of a fright. Getting soft, old man?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Woah, alright then.” He raises a cocky little eyebrow. “Getting hard. Have it your way.”

Izzy grits his teeth. “Twat.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He makes a sound, and that sound is pretty pathetic. He’d really done a number on himself with that bullet. He’d been much better at pushing it all down before. He’d have probably called them all something awful and stormed off to make himself useful, or sulk, or both. But for some reason, he’s still here, and he’s still here, and Lucius is still here looking irritatingly fine about everything. He has a little black stick of make-up between his fingers like a cigarette and something, some godforsaken thing compels Izzy to ask,

“What’s that?”

“Eyeliner.”

“I know it’s fucking eyeliner, I mean what’s-”

Lucius takes a chance, diving for Izzy’s face with the liner and doodling a quick little line and a curl and then he darts back to arms length with a grimace. Izzy’s hand was really far too close to his blade for that and his newly redrawn boundaries were maybe a bit too new for that and Lucius looked like he might finally be worried enough to be scared. When Izzy still hasn’t run him through or run off after a few seconds, he raises up a little cosmetic mirror like it’s part shield, part offering.

“It’s just- you know-” he stammers, “It’s just for fun.”

Izzy examines his reflection. He already has a moustache, but Lucius has taken it upon himself to draw him another one. A bigger one? A pantomime of one over his face. Christ, panto, that takes him back. He’d been a different person back then. A more fun one, for sure. A happier one, a safer one. He looks at himself in the mirror and raises an eyebrow, and imagines? - remembers? - both? - what it would look like to have another one drawn over the top so that someone could see it from up in the nosebleeds. He really fucking misses being seen.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Lucius blusters. “I’ll clean it off. It’s stupid.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it.”

Lucius stares.

Izzy stares back.

“Wait, really?”

Izzy swallows hard. He swallows down a lot of things. He pries his hand off the hilt of his sword and lifts both hands away from his body. An invitation. And if his hands shake while he does it, well, they all know better than to fucking say a thing about it.

Lucius moves more slowly this time. A little wary, a little gentle, like he knows what he’s being offered. Izzy focuses on not letting his stupid heart pound so hard it makes him dizzy as he feels the pencil drag down his cheeks and lips and forehead. A long stretch of fragile silence passes between them. He’s not sure exactly when he closed his eyes. Jesus. He almost doesn’t dare open them again.

“How do I look?” he asks at last.

“I think you look fabulous, darling.”

#fictober23 #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #lucius spriggs #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #clara's fic tag

[nelapanela94]

tw: mild language, Y/N giving birth.

Papa Levi holding his baby for the first time.

Isabel Ackerman was born on a sweltering summer day.

“Imma fucking kill you, Levi!!!” Your ear-splitting shrieks take captive the maternity ward, the nurse is trying to calm you down and Levi’s on the brink of losing his hair. His scalp burns with your menacing pull. “You fucking did this to me!!”

Your hair is tied in a messy bun and some strands curl over your ears, others are glued to your burnished forehead. All your face is glistening with sweat. The insufferable pain wrenches tears through your clamped eyes, squeezed so tight your eyeballs threaten to explode. Scrunched up face, clenched jaw, gritting teeth.

Inhaling, exhaling.

Your breath comes in and out of your mouth in rushing gusts of air as if to appease the pain.

But it doesn't work.

Wailing, screeching, whining. Your tears blend with the beads of sweat that stream down your face.

Someone says, “push.”  

And Levi rasps, “You’re doing great.”

The motherfucker only contributed in the fun part of this.

And then the room falls in utter silence, seconds lengthen to minutes. The air is dense. White walls, cozy lights. And the deafening silence breaks with baby triumph cries. Her lungs work fine. Finally, the torture ceases. Elation and exhaustion swarm you; you're emotionally and physically drained. And Levi’s holding your hand tight as if to melt with yours.

“I’m proud of you,” he coos and kisses your head. “You did great.”

Everything is blurry. Through bleary leaden-eyes, you see the nurse approaching, her silhouette becomes larger. “Congratulations.” She smiles. “It’s a beautiful, healthy girl.”

Isabel is swaddled in a blanket, and the nurse lays her in your arms. Your tiny cocoon.

Jolts of joy fizz through you.

“Oh walls! Oh walls! Oh walls!” Tears of sheer happines well up in your eyes and you’re trembling. Levi drags his chair closer to you.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” the young woman says, getting your attention. You both nod, and she leaves. The door thumps close, and your red, swollen eyes drift to Levi, whose lips are parted and fumbling, and his gaze glints with a weave of fright, pride, joy, and bewilderment. He sniffs and wipes off his seeping tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

You still don't get used to see him crying.

“Look at her, Levi. Look at her!” you jabber, your eyes scoot back to your tiny bundle of joy. You tug down the blanket under her chin to get a better look. Her chubby cheeks are tinged with a pinkish glow, and her scanty black hair screams Levi.

It seems Ackerman genes are dominant.

“She’s so beautiful and small and…” He muses in utter awe; words clog in his throat. Splurges of love and tenderness spread across his chest. Love at first sight. His eyes droop, and a small smile creeps across his lips.

You carefully count her fingers and toes; her hands are curled in tiny fists. She yawns and you both let out a giggle, enraptured, as if it were the most amusing thing in the world.

Your eyes entangle with Levi’s, his lashes are glittering with tears.

“Wanna hold her?”

His eyes go round, and he gulps. You can see the fear in his eyes. The man who faced any threat without hesitation is scared to hold his baby in his arms.

He’s scared to break her, to hurt her. Everything he touches withers.

He shakes his head to toss away those nagging thoughts, then his ebony strands of hair slither trough his fingers as he lets out a deep sigh.

Levi mimics the position of your arms, like a cradle, and you pass Isabel off to him. He freezes and holds his breath, afraid that any flimsy move would break her.

And right then, as soon as he takes her in his arms, she weaves a nest in his heart, his eyes gleaming, his heart is all hers, unconditionally, and he'll never ask her for it back.

He looks at her with so adoration and tenderness, mesmerized in her steady breathing. Her lashes are long, like yours.

“Hey, Izzy,” you murmur. “He’s your daddy. He’s grumpy and high-strung, and most of the time, he’s scowling,” he frowns at you “but he’s a good guy. He loves you so much and will always protect you.”

Levi relaxes a bit, and his eye draws her tubby face. He can’t believe his blood runs through her veins. Something so cute, fragile, and beautiful came from him.

He doesn’t want to let go, he could stare at her forever.

His little summer girl.

Do you know how difficult it is to find a love so pure and innocent?

And he found it.

Dadvi 2022 masterlist

#levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk levi #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #dadvi #papa levi #nela writes

[wonderlandleighleigh]

“Fucking snow,” he says to no one in particular, crossing his arms against the blizzard swirling around him as he steps out of Carnegie Hall. 

It had been both a great and terrible night, and he’s exhausted and stressed and a little heartbroken, and exhilarated and fuck - cold. 

Somewhere in all of this fucking snow is that hotel with that blue room with that blue bed that still somehow, someway smells like her perfume, so maybe he’ll sleep in the bathtub or something. One of those chairs. Anywhere but where Miriam Weissman’s head rested. 

And it’s not that he’s angry at her. He is, but he’s not angry enough to want to forget her, it just- 

Hurts. 

Or maybe that’s just the cold.

He moves as quickly as he can, trying to make his way towards his hotel as best he can, and winds up tripping over- something.

“Fuck, please don’t let that be a body,” he grumbles, turning back. 

In the snow, mangled and wrecked is a bright red umbrella. 

Lenny sighs heavily, looking around as he lifts it up. He knows whose it is. I can’t be anyone else’s. No one else would carry this color. “Dammit, Midge,” he mutters, looking down at it, turning it over in his hands. He looks around, squinting in the snow, trying to catch a glimpse of expensive coat and impractical shoes in the snow, and there she is. 

“Midge! Shit.” He bounds forward, reaching out to grip her arm tightly, tugging her back from the edge of the sidewalk before she can slip and stumble into the street. 

A car zooms by, then - a taxi, skidding down the road and turning a corner, the tire squeal drowning out Midge’s yelp as her thin fingers cling to his trench coat, looking up at him in shock, and fear at what nearly happened. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, feeling his heart race, his hands frantically pull her closer, shifting her to step between her and the street. “Why the hell did you not wear snow boots tonight, are you crazy?” 

She stares at him, and then back out at the street and then back at him and then flings her arms around his neck, clinging to him, her body shaking in the cold and from sheer, utter fright. 

“Thank you,” she buries into his shoulder. “I know you’re mad at me but thank you.” 

“Jesus, Midge I’m not that mad,” he tells her, holding her tightly. “I’m not that mad.” 

She looks up at him, her face white as a sheet, her mascara smeared a little - like it was that first night he met her in the police car. It had rained that night. 

“I tried to get a cab.” 

“It’s okay,” he tells her.

“I need to go home.” 

“It’s okay,” Lenny insists. “It is. We’ll get you a cab in the morning.” He takes her hand, his other still holding her broken umbrella, and leads her to his hotel. 

#fic #au #Unfashionable People I guess #tmmm #midge/lenny #midge x lenny

[corvidcrybaby]

PERSONNEL REPORT: Hellsing Specialist Corporal Zemira Shani Makhabi

"Worried about me? That's fuckin' gay," Zemira snickered, hoarse and haggard.

Hellsing Specialist Zemira Shani Makhabi

Age: 32

Species: Human

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Religion: Judaism

Rank: Specialist Corporal, First Class

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Height: 5'7 (5'9 in her boots, which she will insist on to anyone who brings it up)

Affiliations: Hellsing Organization; Acid Vomit (band)

Aliases (past/present): Zemira bat Gideon v'Liat; The Man Who Isn't There; She Who Is Nobody; The Fool

Hometown: Hertfordshire, England

Loadout: SPAS-15 shotgun, SR-25 designated marksman rifle, silvered KA-BAR combat knives, custom-made silvered knuckles.

Zemira is a shock trooper doubling as a consultant for Jewish affairs who works for Hellsing. A survivor of the conflict with Millennium through sheer dumb luck and the kindness of Captain Bernadotte, she is known to some by the nickname "the Canned Tornado," given to her by the Wild Geese on account of her erratic and ferocious conduct in combat. The latter were some of her closest confidants following the slaughter of the rest of her compatriots during the Valentines' assault on Hellsing Manor - a doomed fate she escaped due to being off-base for Shabbos, and little else.

Described by others as "chatty," "neurotic," and "preposterous," Zemira is considered a valuable asset by Sir Integra due to the insight she provides on affairs beyond the scope of Christianity. Dybbuk possession? Estry sighting? Questions about what a golem is? Call in the Specialist, and try not to be put off by her blusterous speech and foul mouth - there is genuine wisdom and knowledge there. This, and her perplexing ability to roll with the punches of the supernatural like water off a duck's back. She doesn't care if she's facing down the town drunkard in a bar brawl or an ancient vampire warlord - she'll still call them a "pussy-ass bitch" to their face whilst cracking her knuckles and spitting on the ground. Don't be fooled - there is a barely-subdued wiliness to her that has allowed her to best her fair share of undead assholes in combat through quick thinking, trickery and guerrilla tactics. She may only be human, but underestimating her can prove a costly mistake.

Zemira's proclivity for extreme music and her die-hard obsession with death metal speak to her general crass and uncouth attitude. "Fuck," is a filler word, she says her communication skills regarding her own emotions are deeply troubled, and she consistently chafes at the constraints of the cisnormative, culturally Christian world she exists in.

RELATIONSHIPS

ALUCARD: Coworkers to rivals to lovers. Despite Alucard's frightful exterior, even he raised an eyebrow when Zemira greeted him with a polite, friendly handshake and an impassioned showcase of gratitude for his service in World War II - anyone that kills Nazis is cool by her. While initially believing her to be generally amusing, if sloppy and buffoonish, it took little time for the vampire to realize her heavily-suppressed interest in him - not the least of which due to her seeming to fear him more from a place of androphobia than his being a vampire. As their working relationship continued, grew, and expanded, the No-Life King came to find her contradictory nature of a chummy, unprofessional exterior mixed with a veritable offensive maverick on the battlefield endearing. Zemira, too, when finally breaking out of her denial for her intense attraction to him, found a sense of sanctuary and non-judgment when spending time with him. After all, the trappings of mortal form mean nothing to him. What reason has he to judge her any less fairly just due to her transgender identity? What has followed is a rapidly-intensifying game of cat and mouse, dominant and brat which neither party can get enough of.

SIR INTEGRA: There is no denying that upon first meeting, Integra was among the most beautiful women Zemira ever felt she'd laid eyes on - as a hopeless pansexual, she learned to bury these feelings even deeper than her interest in Alucard, especially upon joining Hellsing. "Don't fuck your boss," was a repeated mantra for Zemira, and throughout her twelve-year stint at the Organization, she grew closer as a compatriot and operative to Sir Hellsing than most of the rank-and-file could ever boast; bolstered by their relationship with a certain mutual friend outside of Hellsing, and her support and insight on matters Sir Integra knew little of, such as the monsters of Judaism. Zemira has made Sir Integra genuinely laugh perhaps more than anyone else can claim to - much to her chagrin, as Zemi has forever found Integra's laugh to be relentlessly attractive. No rest for a fool. Zemira was a tether to sanity for Integra during the years of Alucard's absence (retconned to ten in the Lesions universe, rather than thirty) and for this, as a member of the few survivors of Millennium's assault (Sir Integra, Alucard, Seras, and Zemira), Integra does quietly cherish the Specialist's presence. Unexpected sparks begin to fly when Zemira gets involved with Alucard - thereby unwittingly stepping into their existing dynamic.

SERAS VICTORIA: Besties. Girl's night champions. Seras and Zemira joined Hellsing around a similar time frame, and became fast friends, despite Seras's frequent absence in the hectic years that followed. Being the glue that holds the Organization together, it did not stop Zemi and Seras from racking up a truly impressive Snapchat streak of over a thousand, during which no end of tea has been shared. Seras was, of course, quick to notice Zemira's infatuation with her old Master, and gave her no end of teasing and coaxing about making a move, strongly believing that Zemi would do Alucard a lot of good, and sick of seeing Zemira's famed, lonely thousand-yard-stare. Seras appreciated Zemira's lack of judgment for her vampiric nature, and Zemira in time came to appreciate Seras's urging and mutual support. Many a night spent getting tipsy in the Hellsing lounge together.

PIP BERNADOTTE: Captain Bernadotte all but adopted Zemira on sight when the Wild Geese first joined Hellsing. Their introduction came shortly thereafter their meeting with Seras, and the Specialist was gun-shy of these rough-and-tumble mercenary men who stank of beer, cigarettes and smoked meats. Roughhousing with similar men at metal fests was one thing, but Pip caught on to Zemira's expertly-managed fight-or-flight response when surrounded by large groups of men - something no doubt brought on by her upbringing as a closeted transgender girl. The Captain made it clear that anyone who fucked with her would answer to him, and miraculously, his men listened. Zemira damn near achieved honorary Wild Goose status, and there no doubt are MANY embarrassing drunken photos taken with her and this motley crew of mercenaries she found a strange second home with. It was Pip's intervention and impulsive act of kindness shutting her in the basement during the assault on Hellsing Manor by the Letzte Bataillon that spared her a cruel death at the hands of the same monsters her family fled during the days of the Shoah. Since then, there has been camaraderie between the two, but no doubt tension - part of Zemira feels she ought to have gone down with the ship, as meaningless as it would've been. For that, she both adores and resents him in equal measure.

CORPORAL BANCROFT: Work husband. Her much-beloved spotter, and best friend among Hellsing's current human roster. Bancroft was among the first new recruits to fill Hellsing's ranks following the invasion of Britain by Millennium. Despite their closeness, even Zemira has never seen Bancroft's face. She doesn't seem to care, though. Bancroft, being an asexual man, has been a veritable safe haven for Zemira, for even she gets tired of the lewdness typical to the average male trooper. They became fast friends upon his onboarding, bonding over being the odd ones out of their respective units. Before long, Sir Integra began to comprehend that it was best to always deploy them together. Accidents happen when they're apart. Despite his insistence on being nothing more than "just some dude," he's anything but in Zemira's eyes.

Read Zemira's story here on AO3, and read her Reader Insert prototype story here if it strikes your fancy. Note: her transitioning from Y/N to a proper OC is equal parts chance and intentional. She bears the Meta Narrative tag for a reason.

#hellsing #hellsing oc #hellsing fanfiction #hellsing fandom #hellsing ultimate #zemira shani makhabi #listen i love her soooooo fucking much yall don't understand she's my baby and i'd die for her

[iwahajii]

• scars fade (Chapter 7)

Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.

Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.

This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.

warning: contains cheating, explicit language, mature themes

taglist: @jcrml @on-crows-wings

then • now  • next

One written apology and a dozen explanations later, you let out a sigh, zombie-walking to slump down on the couch of Sanae-san's living room. She smiled, the way elders always smiled as she offered tea as comfort to your misery.

"That was exhausting," you grumbled.

As much as you love to hear from Oikawa again, you weren't ready. Just the fact that Ren, a child from the daycare center, answered your phone, gave you so much fright you almost, almost, jumped on the next train ride to who knows where just like before.

You took Ren to your place, since his parents asked you to take care of him after the daycare hours to attend to some family emergency. You agreed, simply because you had nothing else to do anyway and you adored the kid. It was just sheer luck and coincidence that the moment you decided to go to the bathroom was the moment Oikawa chose to ring your number.

Guess he's back home, huh…

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you whipped the blasted phone out, typing quickly.

Don't look for the location of this number. And welcome home, Tooru.

You were just about to turn it off when it vibrated, screen flashing with Tooru's reply.

But I miss you so baaaaad ( ｡ •́ ︿ •̀ ｡ )

Don't you miss me???? ( ◍ • ᴗ • ◍ ) ✧ * 。

"I haven't seen you smile like that since you came here."

You looked up just in time to catch Sanae's raised eyebrow, before soft chuckles came from her lips. You blushed, quickly putting away the phone as you gathered your bearings.

"Yeah, well," you grimaced, shaking your head to shoo the thoughts away. "It's nothing," you finished.

"I'm sure people back home misses you," she mused.

You chuckled. "For someone old, you sure seem sharp, Sanae-san…"

"Knowledge comes with age, Yuki. Years accumulate, along with what you understand in this world."

Pursing your lips, you nodded. "I'd love to reach your age and still be as lively. Can't wait to torment the young ones," you joked.

The old woman chuckled, pausing to take a sip of tea as she regarded you with knowing eyes. "I'm sure you will, if you stopped running away from whatever is chasing you, my dear Yuki."

You opened your mouth to protest, but closed it just as quickly when Sanae raised an eyebrow in challenge. You rolled your eyes before standing up, declaring to cook dinner, effectively running away from her mind games.

"See," Sanae called out at your retreating back. "Running away."

"I'm burning your portion!" was your parting shot before you disappeared from her sight, her laughter following you through the hall and into the kitchen.

Of course, you wouldn't really burn your landlord's portion. It was free dinner, anyway. You weren't that ungrateful no matter how much she pushed your buttons. Sanae was a good woman, someone you already greatly admire even in just a short while of staying with her. Highly charismatic and charming, almost everyone in town knew who Sanae Mizuku was. Armed with quick eyes, high intelligence and intuition, she can easily deduce things just by looking at a person.

Which, she totally applied to you when you stumbled on her store.

It was both jarring and amazing, when she admitted, over one casual dinner where you shared a couple bottles of sake, what she thought your life story was. You were definitely spooked at how close it was that goosebumps appeared, but you quickly sobered up when she said, 'I was just the same as you, then…' before recounting her own life story.

In the end, you gained a company for your misery, a tormentor for said misery, and a teacher in life. But you still weren't up to follow her teachings just yet.

As you laid in bed that night, exhausted from tossing and turning, because sleep was very elusive for some reason. A big fat lie, really. The reason was right there, right between your fingers.

Throwing the blankets off, you leaned back on the headboard, the light from the screen blinding you for a second as you squint to get used to it. Fingers hovering over the screen, you took a very deep breath before letting muscle memory takeover. It didn't even occur to you what ungodly hour it was, as you hear a click followed by a loud whine.

"Tooru."

You paused before exhaling the breath you were holding, waiting as dead silence can only be heard from the other side. You picked up the sound of covers rustling before Oikawa was screaming so much you had to pull the phone away from your ears. Minutes pass and he was still screaming his head off.

"Tooru, calm down," you chided.

"Calm down?!" Oikawa screeched despite his heavy breathing. "You bitch! Don't tell me to calm down! I just- you're here! You called!" He paused, taking a loud inhale before some switched in him turned on and he was ranting at rapid fire speed you barely caught the words he was saying (screaming).

You listened with rapt attention and profound fondness, feeding your longing with Tooru's dramatics. It was something you definitely missed, but would never admit so because his ego was big enough as it was. Your cheeks hurt from the smile plastered on your face for minutes now, but you couldn't take it off, as if your life depended on it.

When Oikawa paused to catch his breath, you giggled, quite breathless from barely suppressed joy. "You okay, Tooru?"

"Yeah," Oikawa mumbled, still quite breathless. "Just let me catch my breath. One sec-"

The sound of loud coughing replaced his heavy breathing.

You couldn't hold it anymore.

You cracked up, knew nothing could've stopped the laughter that toppled you over to your side. You laughed so hard at Tooru's idiocy and misery, at the relief of having your best friend back. You were busy clutching your sides and wiping tears from your eyes. It took a while for you to settle down, minutes after Tooru finished his coughing fit. He was already grumbling and whining, throwing what you knew was a grand tantrum on the other side.

"I miss you, Tooru," you admitted, voice shaky and breathless. You swallowed, clearing your throat as you forced the words out. "I miss you so bad, it hurts…"

And then, you were crying.

Hearing Tooru's voice must've broken the gates you locked your emotions in, because for the first time in months, you cried as you let yourself feel all that you buried deep inside you, all that you forced yourself to take and swallow, all that you tried to ignore and forget.

Tooru was everything, bundled into one lanky and tall mass of bones and muscles. Bestfriend. Brother. Confidant. Partner-in-crime. Other half. "It's alright," Tooru whispered softly. "I'm here now. We're here now."

Right before the break of dawn, your tears and Tooru's soothing words lulled you to sleep, one peaceful and deep, a first since the night you left home.

Catching up with Oikawa Tooru is quite an experience, really. It’s a task that is highly amusing, eye-roll inducing, and utterly exhausting. Still, you soaked up every second of it like a new sponge fresh out of its wrapper.

It was a good thing the next day was a weekend. You had the days all to yourself, spent however you wanted. Tooru definitely took advantage of that, calling and texting every chance he got that you stayed in bed all day, only getting up for necessities. With even that taking up less than how long you really take, like eating for only ten minutes, Tooru whines. Honestly, it felt like you had an infant to take care of. A short while before bed, you gave in to the video call he requested. Taking pleasure in his ugly crying face, because truth be told Oikawa Tooru is an ugly crier, you watched him bawl his eyes out and reduce himself to hiccups by the end of it.

“I’m going to hold this over Iwa-chan’s head forever,” he declared haughtily.

“Please don’t,” you chastised, for reasons too many.

He squinted his eyes suspiciously. “What’s this tough love vibes I’m getting?”

“It’s complicated enough as it is, Tooru.”

He gasped loudly, eyes flashing. “It won’t be as much, if you didn’t run away!”

You held your lips shut.

You understood where Tooru was coming. Really, you did. Tooru was sensitive and overprotective to the people he cares about. You could only guess how difficult it must be for him, having to choose who to protect between two of the closest people in his heart after hurting each other. But you didn’t want him, and all the other people you cared about, to choose between you and Iwa. Your lives, and therefore the circle of people you interact with, are so closely intertwined after years of being together. More than that, though, walking away that day felt like the absolute, right thing to do for yourself, as selfish as it might have been. Tooru simply loves and cares, too much sometimes, for even his own good.

You knew, but that didn’t stop the acid burn you felt in the pit of your stomach. Because for all its worth, you hoped that out of everyone else, Tooru would know better. Your eyesight just turned bleary with tears, when Tooru sighed, and you knew him well enough to know that he just exhaled whatever he was feeling out of his system.

“I’m sorry. I know it must’ve hurt a lot.”

You smiled, swallowing down the bitterness rising up your throat seconds ago.

Oikawa glared jokingly. “You can tell me I was being a bitch. Go on,” he encouraged, eliciting laughter out of you.

“You are,” you obeyed, “But you already know that. I don’t like slapping other’s misgivings to their faces.” It was meant to be a jibe, because that was how it has always been with Tooru, but the silence that bloomed after the words got out of your mouth confused you. “Tooru?”

He pursed his lips, head turned to the side. “I know, and that must be why you left. Iwa told us as much, Yuki.”

His words established in your head and in your heart that Tooru must’ve been taking things too hard, must’ve been having a difficult time because of you.

The realizations that followed felt like sucker punches in your gut, and you visibly trembled at the force. You blinked, and suddenly, they were there. Swimming in tidal waves in your head, wave after wave, splash after splash, threatening to take you under and drown. Realizations that shook you to the core. Realizations that you didn’t want to think about now.

“Tooru, I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling choked up and strangled.

You must’ve looked pretty bad, even on screen, because Tooru was calling, shouting your name over the device. The sounds were barely forming in your head, unable to penetrate the ocean of thoughts. A part of you knows, aware, you were gasping, clutching and thumping and clawing at your chest to steady the heavy drumming in your chest that is anchoring you. The little voice in your head called it, a panic attack. Aware of what it was called didn’t help at all, that little consciousness quickly swallowed by bigger waves until there was light flooding your room, then hands were on your shoulder, in your face, in your head.

There was a blurry face in front of you, a voice garbled and high. You blinked, trying hard to listen to the words, the voice, but everything was harder, to blink, to breathe, and to think.

When you came to, the room was already bright, noting it was late in the morning since only the edge of the sun was visible through the window. You spent a good five minutes gathering your bearings as last night’s events played in your head, glad to have the oppressive thoughts in bay now that you were looking at them from behind the glass inside your head.

Downstairs, the smell of crab and corn soup floated through the air, your body responding by the loud growl of your stomach. Right as you turned the corner of the kitchen, you stopped and did a double take at the sight in front of you. Sanae was standing by the stove, hand busy with stirring, while her head is turned on the phone perched at the dish rack, Tooru’s face occupying majority of the screen.

“How did you know crab and corn’s her favorite?”

Sanae smirked, her head turning up just the slightest. “I have my ways,” she answered, in that vague way of hers to some, clear to others more familiar to the woman.

You cleared your throat loudly, announcing your presence to them. “Good morning,” you greeted.

“It’s noon,” the woman noted.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling ‘good whatever’ under your breath.

“Is she up?” Tooru inquired. While there’s a lift in his tone, you noted the underlying worry buried in his words.

“Hey, Tooru,” you greeted, standing behind Sanae to give Tooru a little wave.

“How are you feeling?” Sanae asked, her eyes following you as you fetched a glass of water and drank.

“Sorry about last night,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” she smarted. “If you’re well enough on your feet, go set up the table.”

You followed as instructed, listening to the two of them go back to whatever they were talking about. It didn’t even bother you how quickly the two came to speaking terms, let alone do video call with each other. Maybe the how did, but knowing the two of them, with mutual wit and sharpness and a little too much confidence, you just knew they were going to click. Even hoped to introduce them to each other, knowing how much fun they were going to have with each other, probably roast each other to obliteration.

Lunch went by with easy conversation between the three of you, talking and laughing like old friends. As you leaned back in your seat, watching Sanae tease Tooru for crying over Kimi no Na wa (you did too, but you weren’t gonna tell her that), you smiled, heart swelling with affection, feeling satisfied in more ways than one.

 then • now  • next

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyu angst #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa torū #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader

[oldgooddaysoldgooddays]

284

Thursday and the sheer abject decadence of my home renovation hits like a pie to the face. The invoices add up, and I try not to attach extra meaning to the two money trees in my house happening suddenly to drop their tender leaves. I bike through spring rain to stand alone in my studio, playing the guitar unplugged and singing into a microphone that isn't there to try to stare down my future stage fright, tempting an anxiety attack but not letting it give me diarrhoea. I think this is called edging. I haven’t formally announced my first show in May, am torn between the two offshoots of my own ego: not wanting too many people to see me fail (if I fail) vs not wanting the performance to be poorly attended. I am soaked with dread and in danger of willing the worst into being. Envisaging the humiliation of my loved ones lying to me about it being good when it wasn’t, reliving the errors on a long haul flight in September even when everybody has forgotten I made them. The deep unsexiness of fucking up something with so much potential for sexiness (exactly what is sexier than fronting a live band? And in turn, what is more unsightly than bombing?) It all leads me back to the undying respect I have for stand-up comics. Respect which is currently abstract but about to become empathy. Live performance of any kind seems to be an arena in which people are prepared to forgive you being ugly (spiritually, physically) but only - ONLY - if you make them feel something. It's a bizarrely cruel and yet fair trade. Take my burning sexual attraction to Shane Gillis, objectively more a potato than a man, where my laughter and awe in the face of his great mind outweighs any shallow tastes in body type. I hope whoever sees me play music and my heinous singing face (I video myself sometimes and I look like a sad, shitting pelican) lets me off the hook in the same way. When a new season of a TV show comes out I always watch from the pilot onwards as refreshment. Succession is dense in narrative and micro-aggressions , demanding this refreshment more than any other show I've seen. I'm also useless with money subplots. When I watch season 1 I realise how many scenes I missed. My favourite so far is when Shiv goes to visit her ailing patriarch father Logan, bed-bound and drugged to the gills, and she holds his hand as he says "I love you". "I love you too, Dad", Shiv says, tearing up. Logan then moves her hand down his own body and under a blanket, towards his crotch. Shiv recoils, realising her father doesn't currently know the difference between his daughter and his wife. If this isn't an illustration of every messed-up father-daughter relationship under the sun (the sexual always threatening to poison the familial), I don't know what is. Fuuuuucking hell

[surviveshe]

                            OLD    EDITS    OF    SIDNEY    &    BILLY    .                                         please    do    not    steal    :  )                                    mutual’s    can    reblog    if    wanted    .                                                  @ghostkilla    .

#blood tw #blood cw #* i. maternal abandonment causes serious deviant behavior. ( billy loomis. ) #* i. i won't be broken again because this time i'll save myself. ( sidney prescott. ) #i. in character. / ghostkilla : sidney & billy . #!!!!! #the sheer fucking fright in her face #how uncomfy she is around him #it just breaks me

[timottea]

heeeey! could i request smth for timothee. maybe he met y/n through their mutual friends, start hanging out with her and slowly falling in love with her. thanks ❤️

hiii, sorry this took so long life got crazy and is still crazy! thank you for trusting me with this idea it's so good, it's going to become a series whenever i can updateee ❤️

“you made it!” your friend shrieks, throwing her arms around yet another person whose name you don’t know. you don’t mind, she’s always been a social butterfly, and her housewarming was always bound to be an affair. but there must be nearly 40 people in her two bedroom apartment and you just need a break from the noise. as the third bottle of champagne spritzes open, you take your chance to find some place quieter.

in the next room, you find shelter between a potted plant and her barren bookcase — you’ll let the bleak shelves slide, after all, she’s only just moved in. there’s a cardboard box labelled BOOKS beside the bookcase, so you have to tear it open, just to help her out.

“curiosity killed the cat, you know,” a voice speaks suddenly. you jump, slamming your head into one of the shelves and seeing stars.

“god! you scared me!” you cry. your hand darts to your head as you turn to face the assailant.

“oh my god i- i- i’m so sorry, oh christ, are you — is your head okay — fuck — i’m so sorry! here, let me —”

the stranger’s hands flap in the space between your two bodies, begging to fix, to comfort, to write you a fucking apology letter.

you take a moment to look at him, to take in the way he shifts his weight from addidas to addidas, to the tuck of his sweats in his socks, to his fluttering hands, the sheer panic on his face, that face!, the curls that fall into his eyes, and curiosity may just kill you after all.

you zone back in and he’s still talking —

“— bad first impression, god, worst first impression, i- fuck, can i get you — i can’t believe this, whatever you need i’ll —”

you tilt your head to the side to observe him, fascinated. he could go on for days, you think, and — even more shocking than the fright he gave you — you’d let him. you could listen to this boyish stranger with the curly hair and wild hands talk for days.

the boy’s eyebrows arch and they’re such a sad angle it makes something in your chest twist. he’s mortified, and stumbling over his words, and you watch a million different emotions flit across his face like a flip book.

“your face is pretty,” you say suddenly, silencing his rambling. you blame the champagne.

he blushes. “oh my god, you absolutely have a concussion.”

you laugh, shoving him playfully. you furrow your eyebrows when he steps closer. “what are you doing? i’m fine.”

“i just- sorry, i just need to check your pupils aren’t weird,” he says, meeting your eyes for a second that feels an awful lot like eternity.

you squint as you focus on the colour of his, finding it impossible to decide. somewhere between green and hazel; they remind you of sunlight streaming through a canopy of leaves.

his eyebrows raise and his lips move and you realise a second too late that he asked you a question.

“huh? sorry, what was that?” you shake your head and immediately regret it. “ow.”

“i said i really think you need to sit down?” the boy repeats, guilt and concern etched across his features. “come on, i think i saw a — oh, yeah, here’s good too.”

he sinks to the floor as well, sitting himself in front of you and the box of books.

“everywhere else is too loud,” you explain, then pry open the box to leaf through your friend’s book collection.

the boy nods, adjusting the ring on his finger as he watches you sort the volumes onto the empty shelves.

“are you sure you're okay?” he asks again.

your fingers still against the spines of the vonneguts. “yeah, honestly, don’t worry about it.”

“hmmm i’m not so sure,” he says. you turn to look at him and register the smirk gracing his lips. “no person free of a concussion would put vonnegut next to whitman.”

your jaw drops. how dare this handsome stranger question your alphabetising! “but that’s the alphabet!” you exclaim, singing, “T U V W!”

he shakes his head, amused, then scoots forwards to mess up your beautiful order. “alphabet is boring. too clinical.”

“you must hate going to book shops, then,” you glare at him and he shoots you a smile that you just want to kiss right off — wait, what?

“oh my god, i bet you draw all over your books,” you gasp, quickly moving the box out of his reach.

he sticks out his tongue.

“and — oh god — i bet you dog ear pages!” you shudder dramatically and he throws his head back laughing.

“whaaaat and you don’t?!” his laughter is contagious and you find yourself dazzled by the light in his eyes, so bright you almost have to look away. but you can’t. the last thing you want to do is look away so you lean forwards, lean closer. you want to make him shine like this with every word you say and you’re really blaming the champagne now.

“so what brings you here? run out of books to destroy?” you say, turning one book over and over in your hands.

the boy grins, amused, then leans back to glimpse the party through the doorway.

“my friend knows almost every person in this building, and, uh, he kind of dragged me out tonight,” he finishes bashfully.

at the raise of your eyebrows he adds, “not that i don’t want to be here, just that i don’t know anybody here.”

you nod, watching as he ducks his head sheepishly and switches the rings around on his fingers.

it’s the champagne that makes you bold. you lean forwards and nudge his leg with yours and his head shoots up to look at you.

“well i'm yn, and it’s nice to meet you,” you say, giving him another nudge for good measure. electricity floods through your veins.

nudging you back, his smile is lopsided when he replies, “well i'm timothée, and likewise.”

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee imagine #timothee x you #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet x reader

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 2

Summary: While marriage was the last thing he’d want, especially with his enemies’ daughter, the Darkling isn’t above playing dirty to get what he wants. But his wish for a wedding night turns sour once he realizes his bride is anything but a weak human.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual references

Part one   

===========================

Walking down a hall, Y/N felt her heart drop as they neared a room meant for them. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized Darkling’s faithful Grisha followed them every step of the way.

Stopping moments before she walked into her now husband, Y/N turned on her heel. With a smile believable to anyone with an outsider’s perspective, she folded her hands before her abdomen.

“Did you guys enjoy the wedding?” Her voice is light, cheerful even. It felt odd, enough for Kirigan’s eyes to narrow at Ivan and Fedyor who replied simultaneously.

“Yes.” “No.”

Chuckling, she raised her eyebrows, “Well, did you both attend the same wedding?”

Swallowing thickly, Fedyor decided to speak for Ivan who was still disgruntled nearly as much as Kirigan.

“The wedding was perfect and you were a vision.”

Humming, she nods, “I’m glad it wasn’t a waste of time for you as it was for me. Good evening.” Turning her back on their flabbergasted faces, Y/N lifted her chin before entering the room on her own.

She could hear Kirigan’s annoyed sigh as he dismissed his Grisha, but the sound of the doors closing truly rattled her insides. Looking to him, she held her breath to stop a shuddered one from escaping her.

"I understand it's not what you expected", he smiled frostily. "I had plans that didn't include you either. But I suppose we'll both have to make do."

She scoffed, narrowing her eyes, "Make do?"

It was their wedding night, doors shut with no witnesses and the marriage arranged for the two of them felt like a noose tied around her neck. She swallows thickly, hyper aware of the bed dominating the room behind her and her hands, wrapped in each other behind her back have begun to tremble.

The general she married leaned back against the door, looking her up and down with a smile of slow appreciation. "Well, you are mine now."

"I may be tied to you by state laws, but I am not yours", she spat.

"No", he smirked, "Not yet." He peels away from the doors, stepping closer. He takes off his black kefta, draping it on a chair. Beginning to unbutton his black, silk shirt, the General looked at her as if she were a caged bird meant for his amusement.

"There are some traditions for tonight", he took one step toward her as he hummed.

"Are you familiar with the word defenestration?" She raised her voice ever so slightly, refusing to step back in fright. He does not get to challenge her and win. Not now, not ever. She does not draw back in a fight, her father taught her so.

"No", he raised an eyebrow, unsure what she means.

"If you come anywhere close to me", she growled out, "I will make sure you find out first hand."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss a good time", he purred, coming closer.

"Oh please, my heel is bigger than your dick."

Raising his eyebrows, the Darkling nearly scoffed at her confidence in this matter. "How can you be so sure when you've never even seen it?"

"No man with anger like yours could ever have something in his pants worth my time."

"You are my wife, are you not?" He narrowed his eyes at her and she rolled hers in contempt.

"Unfortunately."

"Glad you're aware of it", he licks his lips, "Means we're on the same page."

"Same page? We're not even in the same book!"

Those eyes of hers, as fierce and unperturbed by anything he did, could swallow stars and galaxies and universes. As far as he's concerned, she did for he could see them all mirrored in the defiance she locked her gaze onto his with.

"This", he whispers aggressively. "You", he presses closer until his lips are but a faint inhale away from hers, "Are mine. He gazes down at her, gauging her reaction, his eyes burning.

"You're a demon", she speaks through gritted teeth. "I don't trust demons, I don't lay with demons", she pushed against his chest with both her hands, "All you do is destroy."

"I’d say the same thing about you, human."

Rolling her eyes at him, she refuses to relent. Her body is tense, her neck aching from looking up at his dark presence she would not bend before. She isn’t a horse to be broken, she’s a soldier, her father’s daughter.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He grumbled, his lips nearly brushing against hers and she noticed.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized just how close he is, “I’m hoping you’ll combust spontaneously.”

Raising an eyebrow, a cold smile forms on his lips, “Ah, how cute. But you’re no Inferni.”

“I’m better”, she brought her knee up so swiftly he didn’t see it coming. As her knee collided right between his legs, Kirigan bent over, bellowing in pain.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” He growled with fury, struggling to straighten up. Forced to look up at the smug smile upon her lush, rosy lips, Kirigan never felt more enraged by a woman before.

“I do.” Shrugging, she sat at the bottom of the bed. “I just don’t fucking care. You don’t scare me.”

His gaze felt like fire, setting every inch of her skin aflame and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was hate or lust that burned so bright within him….within her. Either way, she knew she’d be teasing him like this every day if it meant he’d look at her like that. She always did like playing with fire, Inferni or not, and Kirigan just made himself an easy target.

On one knee, he gripped the sheets in an attempt to pull himself up, yet all he could do is groan and clutch his groin.

Gripping his chin, she locked her gaze on him with an unforgivable disobedience. “I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. I’m not a dutiful wife who desperately seeks your attention. I’m a general’s daughter. I was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips.” Turning his head to the door, she leans in and whispers in his ear. “And now you can leave while your manhood is still relatively untouched.”

“I could kill you for this”, the Darkling threatens, wishing he could wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze the resistance out of her along with her life.

“I’d like to see you try”, she sneered. Standing abruptly, she turned her back on him.

Sitting with his back against the doorframe, Darkling glared at her with burning passion – for vengeance, of course. While he assumed she’d be difficult, he didn’t presume her to be as strong-willed. A part of him was certain she’d cave once he turned on his charm, but she never allowed him to.

Noticing her hand movement, he quickly realized she’s unbuttoning her kefta as well. In seconds, his eyes widen as she slips the kefta off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. Nothing but a sheer gown hugs her body so tightly, the Darkling felt his breath stop in his throat.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on him, “Do you have no manners?”

She kept her eyes locked on his as she turned, opened her gown and slipped it from her shoulders, exposing her body to him. In his eyes appeared a mix of hunger and desire in such intensity that she was both excited and frightened.

“I’m the only one allowed to look at you, that’s a right you can’t strip me of.”

In time it takes for a heartbeat to echo in her ears, the Darkling stood before her. She took a shuddering breath as he gathered her into his embrace.

“Are you planning on forcing yourself onto me?” Y/N’s jaw clenched as her nostrils flare.

Pressing his lips together, his dark eyes narrow in disbelief, “Do you honestly believe me to be so evil?”

Speaking through gritted teeth, she remarks, “Yes.”

Nodding, her purses his lips. Raising his hands in mock surrender, Kirigan moves away from her. He straightens his back, finishing unbuttoning his shirt until the end – just before he lets it fall to the ground.

She swallows thickly, refusing to look anywhere below his chin. For a moment, she could have sworn a flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but she blamed the candlelight for the deceit. There is nothing good, nothing human in general Kirigan. He cannot feel hurt and she refused to let him past her defenses. She will not feel for him, she will not fall for him. He’s a task she had to manage, nothing more.

Unzipping his pants, he took the rest of his clothes off.

Her eyes flicker to his middle as he heads to the bed, realizing he’s wearing undergarments.

Relieved, Y/N opened the drawers, finding herself a proper nightgown to cover herself with. Once her body was no longer open to his view, she looked to him with pursed lips.

“I will not touch you”, he rolls his eyes, “But we are married. Might as well make the rest of the world believe the arrangement is somewhat functional.”

Looking at the door, she contemplated leaving. Sharing a bed with someone, anyone, was intimate. It required trust, love, a sense of safety and loyalty she certainly didn’t share with Kirigan.

“If you choose to leave, it will be all they talk about it the morning”, Darkling warns her and she huffs.

“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll be seeing you at the end of the altar once more. But in a casket during your funeral”, she glares at him and he can’t help but chuckle at her words.

He watched her settle in the bed, beside him. Placing a pillow between them seemed rather odd, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he half expected her to make an attempt on his life on their wedding night. He still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.

“Sweet dreams, wife”, he smiled as she blew out the candle and the darkness settled in. He always felt comfortable in the dark.

She never felt comfortable in darkness, but he’d never know. She would be brave from now on – she wouldn’t bend, break or bow to anyone.

“I hope your dreams are filled with Volcra”, she snapped before turning on her side, further away from him.

Eventually, despite her initial distrust for the man, Y/N fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. She shifted in her sleep, throwing her leg over Kirigan’s, her hair twisting round and round his arm.

But the Darkling did not fall asleep immediately. She moved against him and snuggled closer. Even though she wouldn’t come close to him awake, she reached for him in her sleep. She wanted him nearby and it drew a smile to his lips. Catching himself smiling, the Darkling sat up in distress.

She may be appealing, but he cannot get attached to her. Ever.

His heart beats loudly, deafening so, his mind unable to slow down even for a moment. How could he fall asleep when he knew this angel beside him was simply a devil in disguise?

She’s a human – daughter of his enemy. Once she serves her purpose, the Darkling knew what he had to do. Turning her back on her side, he fixes the pillow in the middle. She’s a human, fleeting, he’s eternal and he will not allow himself the weakness of caring for someone like her.

Just as his mind drifts, he feels an arm wrap around him and he tenses up, eyes opening wide. “Fuck.”

Tags: @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​

PART 3

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader