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winchesterdreamgirl88 · 6 months

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Famous In Love

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: So much freaking fluff!! Bf/n= Best friends name

Summary: This takes place in an AU where Jensen isn't with Danneel and is just a normal actor in Hollywood, and Y/n hears about an open casting call for a movie and goes to read for the part meets Jensen and things go from there:)

Word count:1.7k

A/n: I loved this show when it first came out so I figured I would try writing a story based on the pilot of this show. The pilot for this show gets all the credit!

"Come on Y/n this would be so fun to try. You never take any risks why not try this one." Bf/n was saying as you were walking down the street passing a billboard for an open call audition for some movie.

"No Bf/n you know that's just a publicity stunt. They're never gonna take some ordinary person like me. Besides I'm not pretty enough or good enough to ever be in a movie." You said as you stopped to think about how unlucky your life has been.

First your parents kicked you out at the age of 16 and you lived in your car while you worked a full time and part time job to afford rent. Then when you finally got settled in your new apartment it flooded and you had lost everything. You were 21 now and life was not looking to get any better. Luckily you had met Bf/n at work and she let you move in with her and you guys became inseparable.

"Please just do this one thing for me and if it turns out to be a disaster I'll do your laundry for a whole month. We'll go buy new clothes and go in there and nail this audition."

"Okay I guess we can give it a shot." You said finally giving in and letting her drag you to stores to pick out outfits.

Two days later you and Bf/n were sitting in a casting room waiting to audition. You were nervous but you didn't have high hopes. Expect disappointment and you'll never be disappointed. It was your friends turn to go audition and you wished her good luck as she disappeared down the hall. After about 10 minutes she came back with a smile on her face.

"So how'd it go?" You said interested to know what was gonna happen.

"It went alright, I definitely don't think I'll get the part but there was the most handsome man in the room watching me audition. I swear I forgot every single line because he was just so distracting."

Bf/n has always been super boy crazy so you didn't think anything of her mentioning another random guy she found cute. After about 10 minutes your name was called and you start to walk down the hall towards the audition room. Expect disappointment and you won't be disappointed you kept saying to yourself as you walked down the hall. You took a deep breathe before entering the room. When you entered the room you lock eyes with the most gorgeous pair of green eyes with a hint of brown you have ever seen.

Jensen's POV

I had been at auditions for only a few hours and I was already over everyone who had come and seemed to think it was a game or didn't really seem to try and care about what was happening. I started zoning out through most of the auditions because no one had that special spark that made me feel anything. Suddenly I hear the door open again and it's the last audition of the day, I lift my head up and look over at the door and see the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

Reader POV

Your breathe got caught in your throat as you made eye contact with a man who looked to be about 25 years old. He had a very faint beard that you could only see in the light. You took a moment to breathe and then cleared your throat.

"Hi, my name is Y/n and I'm here to read for the role of Paige." You said walking up in front of the table that had the directors and producers behind it. You tried not to make eye contact with the guy who hadn't seemed to take his eyes off you since you came in the door.

"You may begin whenever you're ready."

You take a deep breathe before starting to read the script. "But what about me? What about what I feel. You don't just get to decide how I feel or how I control my life. I love you and nothing is going to change that." You said with your voice cracking as you finish up the scene. You notice everyone has a shocked look on their face, it seems like forever until the director speaks up.

"Thank you very much for coming today. We'll be in touch." You took one last look at the man and then exited the hallway to go find your friend.

Jensen POV

She captivated my attention from the moment she walked into the room. I could tell she was very nervous and shy because she kept her head down and wouldn't look at anybody. But as soon as she started the scene I couldn't help but just stare at her with astonishment. She's been the first person today that has captured my attention and actually made me feel something about the character. I realize she has to be the one for this part.

"She's the best we've seen all day. She knew the script, she was emotional, she was believable, and really cared about what she was saying." I said looking at everyone else in the room suddenly defending some girl I hadn't even said anything to.

"She's just a nobody though. It just doesn't seem right to give her the part." I was completely taken aback by this. "What if we bring her back in, and she reads a scene with me. If we have chemistry and it's believable then she gets the part." Everyone seemed to think that was fair so the assistant producer went to go find her while I tried to prepare myself.

Reader POV

You and bf/n were getting ready to leave the building when a slightly shorter woman ran up to you and stopped you. "Excuse me miss but they want you to come back and read another scene with your love interest and see if you can handle it." You were very shocked because you didn't think that you did that good. You looked back at your friend who had a big smile on her face telling you to go for it. You decide to follow the lady back into the room. When you open the door suddenly everything makes sense, the guy from earlier was playing your love interest.

Your heart started to speed up when you realized you would not only have to keep eye contact with this man but also try and remember words and talk to him.

"Hi, I'm Jensen I'll be playing Blake your love interest." He said while holding out his hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. "I'm Y/n."

"Okay so let's just read from the top of the page down and then we'll stop." Jensen said letting you know to start. "And action!" the director had called out.

"But what about me? What about what I feel. You don't just get to decide how I feel or how I control my life. I love you and nothing is going to change that."

"You can't love me. I can't stay here, I can't allow myself to fall deeper in love with you. You will only get hurt in the end and I can't let that happen."

"The only one hurting me right now is you. You aren't even considering my feelings. You're just doing what's best for you."

"What's best for me? What's best for me is being with you. But I just can't, I won't." He then turns away from you and you walk up behind him and place your hand on his shoulder.

"Yes you can, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, you're stuck with me. I know you may think you don't deserve to be happy. But you do, you deserve everything in the world that would make you happy. Starting with me." You said and looked away because that was the end of the scene. Suddenly you feel an arm grab your wrist and pull you back and then you feel lips on yours. You were surprised at first because you thought you were done with the scene, but it looked like he wanted to go further. It takes a second but then your brain catches up and starts kissing back. Suddenly he pulls away "Okay, lets do this together." "And cut!" the director said as Jensen slowly backs away from you. You were so distracted by what just happened instead of seeing anything you just walked out the door and ran down the hall. You couldn't believe he had just kissed you like that. It had been the best kiss you had in years and it was from this random guy.

Jenson POV

She was such a phenomenal actress I forgot we were even acting for a minute. When she said her last line of dialogue I didn't want the scene to be over so I pulled her in and kissed her keeping the scene going. I expected her to pull back but instead she gives herself into the kiss and it's the best kiss I've had in forever. Right after she ran out the door looking very nervous. I just knew I had to get to know more about this amazing girl.

"So?" I asked looking at the director. "We like her she's got the part." I get a big smile on my face and go to run out the door to catch her before she leaves.

Reader POV

Suddenly you hear noises behind you and see Jensen running up to you. "You got the part Y/n, you'll be playing me love interest." You were so excited you just decided to give him a hug, Shocked at what you just did you start to pull away but then feel him hug you back. "Congratulations." "Thank you," you say with the biggest smile on your face.

"Would you like to go out sometime. Maybe just do something casual like get a beer and dinner and just talk." He says suddenly being really shy like he's nervous to talk to you. But why would he be nervous, he's him and you weren't anything special. You decided to take a leap of faith, "Yeah I would really like that." He gave you that signature smile and you knew you were hooked.

#dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #jared padalecki #sam winchester smut #sam winchester

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writing-with-gremworm · 6 months

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The Winter Duke

Notes:

Mentions of/implied abuse

Unhealthy relationship dynamic

Obsessive behavior

Yandere!Wriothesley

A little slow to start

The Duke of the North is a terrifying and cold figure. He is said to have slaughtered thousands and abandoned many to the monsters plaguing the snows. So it came as a surprise to you when he seemed like an ordinary guy during your first conversation.

"You must be (Y/N). I'm sorry you had to come here on such short notice, but I can assure you that this arranged marriage will not be permanent." The cold Duke states, motioning for me to sit down, "In the meantime, we have much to discuss. I don't expect your help for free."

"Ah, yes, that is only fair." Your voice quivers slightly. You were surprised he offered you such a deal. Generally speaking, you were seen as useless given what your power was. You had an affinity for minor mimicry. This meant you could make ice cubes after someone made a glacier, or a glass of water after someone made it rain. The power itself was weak, so it was dismissed. Especially since you came from a long line of saints. The (L/N) family were known as some of the greatest healers. Though how that healing was developed was a family secret and one that made you want to throw up when you thought about it. Your skin itches a bit at the thought.

"First, allow me to make a proper introduction. My name is Wriothesley, the Duke of North Fontaine."

"You've already gathered my name ... um, Rizzley."

"Wriothesley."

"Rizzley, what exactly do you expect of me? I know you seek the (L/N) name because of its ties to previous saints, do you seek a healer? If so, I can not help you." You state simply, looking at Wriothesley with a shakey gaze. Your heart was racing, he was said to be the coldest man in the empire, how could you not shiver?

"No, I already know you're the black sheep of your family. What I seek is your ability to move freely. I am confined to this place, as such, I need eyes. One who is as, and forgive me for this, generic as you will go unnoticed." You wince a bit and sigh. You were glad he wasn't going to kiss up to you because of your title, but it still stung to be told so blatantly you were boring.

"No, that's a fair assessment." You smile, Wriothesley's lips flatten more, but you don't notice, "But why can't you just leave? I know the social world has cast you in a ... less than positive light ... but you're not trapped here are you?"

"We'll discuss that when it becomes relevant. For now, just know I can not leave the North."

"... Cryptic. But okay. So, what will you offer me?" You swallow, looking at him with feigned courage. Your heart beat so quickly it felt like a hammer was bashing against the burdensome ribcage acting as a wall.

"If you help me, I will help you. This means you can ask for anything. A villa, money, even fame." Was he serious? You couldn't sense any change in tone, and he didn't put on a fake smile like your father did when he wanted something. Maybe you wanted to believe him. Maybe you should.

"Money ... sounds reasonable." You start, taking a shallow breath before continuing, "But you'll have to compensate me appropriately. Let's write a contract detailing what you want from me and what you think it's worth. I'll adjust it as needed to fit my conditions."

"... Alright. I can do that. Louis, escort Mx. (L/N) to their room." Wriothesley looks to his attendant and gestures toward me.

"Of course, Your Grace." Louis states with a polite smile, "Come with me Mx. (L/N)."

-- After the door closes Wriothesley smiles a bit before quickly covering his mouth.

"They're even better in person ... Ah, I hope you stay for a very long time (Y/N)" Wriothesley mutters to himself.

In truth, Wriothesley has been watching them for a long time. Fleur, his assistant, helped curate rumors to make the (L/N) family give in to his wishes. --

Louis opens the door to your room and you're surprised by its grandeur. It's a stark contrast to the attic you'd lived in before this. In the (L/N) family you aren't permitted to live in the second-floor rooms until you've awaked holy power. As you did not awaken said power, you were forced to remain in the attic. This attic was designed to test the limits of your body to encourage the propagation of holy power. Though, no matter how much you were tested, not a speck of holy light flowed through your fingertips.

Laying on the fluffy bed you close your eyes. If your bed had been like this, would you have been less tired? You don't know, but you can feel the exhaustion setting in. The distance between the Duke's estate and your own was several weeks without a magic portal. Given the prowess of both families, you only had to spend a few days on the road. The trip was still unpleasant. As part of the (L/N) tradition, you had to ride in the most frugal of carriages and fast daily.

"I'm scared." You admit, hugging your pillow tightly as your heartbeat lulls you to sleep. The familiar racing pace creates a frame to justify rest. After all, you already knew the pattern, it was too tiresome to punish someone half asleep, they never seemed to remember properly.

"So this is all?" You look at the contract, surprised it is so short.

"Yes, that is all. It is simple and to the point. I'm quite certain you'll be happy with the terms." Wriothesley states simply, leaning onto his hand as he glances over you. His silver eyes seem to pierce through you. You avert your gaze and quickly read the contract.

"So you wish for me to be your face?" This was troublesome. Your face in the social world was not well known, but your name was the current gossip of high society. Would you really be okay if you became his face? Surely Wriothesley, someone of Ducal status, already knew this. So why?

"That's ... one way to phrase it. Yes, as stated there, you'll be taking my place in socials and surveying the territory while I am still bound to my place." Wriothesley's expression shifts slightly, a hint of annoyance clouding his eyes before his gaze returns to a neutral state. You flinch without realizing it, it would be too much to ask him more now. It was safer to accept this.

"This ... is too much Mora. Besides, this contract doesn't detail the marriage aspect. I thought that was part of this." This much was reasonable, it didn't make you seem weak, and you could still get more information.

"The marriage is set to last until I'm no longer stuck in this place. I will write that down if you need."

"... Alright. I didn't realize you were the forgetful type. I thought that was my role." You write down that and alter the amount of Mora you'll receive before handing the document back to Wriothesley. You swear he smiles a little when you pass it over.

"Well, now that the contract is settled, I'll have Louis fill you in on your first task."

"Right, right, you're probably busy since you still have to do all of the paperwork." You nod and look over to Louis who has the same polite smile as yesterday. Besides, this was a great excuse to leave the room.

-- "Fleur, I have a task for you. Can you do some research into the secrets of the (L/N) family? Ah, and look into Transfer Relics." Wriothesley had a feeling his reports were missing something, while he liked this malleable version of (Y/N), they seemed different from what he'd been told.

"Transfer Relics- but aren't those only effective at moving curses?"

"Exactly." Fleur knew what that meant. She thought (Y/N) was fragile, a glass bird riddled with imperfections. Maybe that is why Wriothesley had taken an interest in them.

"... Understood, Your Grace." Fleur was sure now, Wriothesley's interest in (Y/N) would act as their cage, and she had no intention of saving them. At least in a cage, the glass might not break. --

"Eh? Wait, I have to attend the Royal Assembly? I guess that's why this marriage was so rushed." You mutter. You swallow nervously and place a hand to your chin. Your eyes dart to the nearest vase so you look preoccupied with thought.

"That is correct Mx. The Duke's family was required to go this time, however, as you can see, only Wriothesley remains of the main bloodline and until you, he had no spouse."

"Ah ... because of the rumors right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Louis pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes, "Ah, forgive me, I'm a little emotional. It's been so long since Wriothesley had someone to call family, however temporary this is." Something about the way he said it made you feel a little bad.

But, this was temporary, and you all knew that. Though, staying here for a while doesn't seem like a bad thing. At least you get to eat multiple times a day instead of just once. Your bed was soft too, it felt much warmer than the firm attic one at the (L/N) residence.

Attending Empress Furina's Assembly is something you never expected to do. Your oldest sister and father attended regularly, but you were never qualified to attend. Even now, you were taking Wriothesley's place, so it felt like you didn't belong. You may have accepted it with open arms, but the doubts you had were so loud. They screamed at you, tearing at your hair and reminding you of what happens when you don't listen.

You make it to the assembly room before your mind traps you in the background. You hear your name announced, but you can't even move your lips.

You try to step out of your head, but something drags you back in. The tendrils of cold and hot wrap around your body and remind you of the torn flesh and the inability to breathe. You try to scream, but nothing comes out. You try to look around, but the only colours surrounding you are black and red. They cover your vision and the red creeps outward. You finally move your hands, only to see them covered in a deep crimson that has started to flake.

"Mx. Are you alright?" A cool voice cuts through the screaming silence.

"A-Ah ..." Your mouth opens, but only weak sounds escape it.

"My liege, I'll escort this guest to a rest chamber, please continue the tea ceremony without us." The man with silver hair tells Empress Furina calmly. The blue streaks reminded you of the water, or maybe of a dragon's horns. Your eyes widen when you realize who is escorting you away from the Royal Assembly.

"Justice Neuvillette ... You need not have left to escort me ... but I ... thank you. I am in no place to berate you for attending to my needs. That would be rude." Your throat hurts, but at least the words seem to sound normal, maybe no one would be able to tell you'd just frozen up. Unfortunately, your legs and hands were shaking noticeably, so it was clear you shouldn't be left alone. The red still faintly overlaid your fingers, it made you want to puke.

You look at your hand and notice Neuvillette holding it. Maybe he thought you wouldn't be able to follow along without guidance. It was sweet in its own right. Neuvillette, too, had a reputation that preceded him so this gentle side was new. Maybe that difference made you feel a sense of calm.

"Think nothing of it. I simply wanted to help my friend's spouse." Neuvillette dismisses it with amusement colouring his words.

"Did you two bond over scary reputations-" You start before covering your mouth with your free hand. Why did your tongue move so freely with this man?

"No, though said rumors are one thing we seem to have in common. If that were a tell, then you'd be my friend too, no?"

"Huh? But I- don't have much of a reputation, do I? As the black sheep maybe, but nothing more."

"Ah, I suppose you're not aware of the other rumors. Then pay me no mind, if such things have not tainted your ears, it is better to leave it here." Neuvillette states, clearing his throat and opening the door for you to step inside the resting area. You furrow your brow.

"But if it is about me, then shouldn't I be aware?"

"Some things are better left unknown. Though, if you wish to know, I will ask you something first. Why weren't your sister and Father with us at the assembly Today?" You look surprised. You hadn't had time to register anyone's faces, just the flood of anxiety that threatened to eat you alive.

"I ..." You start, but you realize quickly your answer wouldn't have made sense. You could have suggested they were both ill or otherwise wished to avoid you, but in public, they always pretended to adore you and they were healers who had excellent natural constitutions, "Someone prevented them from being here today."

"... In a sense, they were prevented from being able to attend," Neuvillette confirms, though his phrasing concerns you a bit.

"I ... see. What does this have to do with the rumors?" You ask pointedly.

"They imply that you're the person who ... barred the attendance of your family." Neuvillette pauses in the middle, clearly thinking about something else before deciding on this phrasing.

"But it doesn't make sense for them to avoid me ..."

"Regardless, you should take a seat and breathe. I'll return to the assembly if you do not wish for me to stay."

"I'll be fine. Thank you." You say certain that you could find your way back when you were sure you were okay.

"Fleur, you've done exceptionally this time. The (L/N) family was keeping this sort of thing, hm? Well, I suppose as a family of healers, it's only right they once held something so precious." Wriothesley smiles, his lips forming a tight curve as he holds a glowing sphere.

"Your Grace, this has caused rumors to spread about your spouse. Should I handle those?"

"... No, rather, we should use them to our advantage, no?" Rumors are what brought them here, so rumors would bring them closer.

"Understood."

"I apologize for earlier, your highness." You bow before Furina once you get a chance to speak with her.

"Hm, well I suppose you should. It's only right." Furina starts before Neuvillette clears his throat quietly, "Ahem, I graciously accept your apology! But to make up for this transgression, you must attend my next Tea Party!" Furina insists, throwing her hand out to point at me. You blink, a little surprised this is the only reprimand someone of her stature is giving you.

In the (L/N) household you had to isolate and pray for several days for your wrongs, especially with something of this caliber. Your knees start to tense up, and your calves pulse with phantom pain at the thought of it. You notice Furina's gaze and realize you haven't responded.

"Oh- yes, of course, Your Highness." You promptly reply with a polite smile. Neuvillette notices something in your demeanor that concerns him. Perhaps, he thought, Wriothesley's words were correct.

Wriothesley was displeased when he heard (Y/N) was invited back to the palace. He was well aware of why, (Y/N) was his spouse, so they should stay nearer to him, but it wasn't time to let them see that side of him. After all, wouldn't they run away? There were moments, little flickers of their gaze, a slight alteration in the way they breathed, a change in stance, or even something they forgot in their routine that told him they were afraid of something, but their smile remained.

He recognized that smile, it was something he had grown tired of using. The mask to deter those who would pray on sorrow. It was the mask someone deeply hurt would use. It was the reason he'd orchestrated the death of the (L/N) family.

"They need me. They need my hand." He mutters. Wriothesley closes his eyes and imagines holding their fragile body in his arms. In this fantasy, one hand was on their fragile neck, the other wrapped around their waist. He imagined how warm they would feel in his arms, how delicate their lips would look as they trembled. His breath hitched as he thought about kissing them, taking their soft lips with his own. The petal-like touch and spring warmth would surely be addicting. He knew, of course, that he was the one who needed them most. Though, he didn't understand how he'd come to adore this fragile being.

Wriothesley opened his eyes and peered at the artifact. He smiled, knowing it was almost time to put it to use.

The day you were to attend Furina's Tea Party approached more quickly than you imagined. You sigh as you look out the window. You wondered if it would be like last time- if you would freeze in place and be unable to speak. Your fingers trembled, so you gripped your dress clothes tightly.

The carriage rattles and thrusts you against its door. You take a moment to reorient yourself before you see the window is looking up into the sky, not the treeline. Your carriage had fallen over.

"Assassins." You mutter. You knew some hated you, but you never thought it was to the point they'd want you dead. Though, did you mind? Before this, hadn't you wished for death?

"I need someone as my eyes and ears." But you were needed now. Even so, was it a position only you could fill? Surely not.

"Found you~ Now, why don't you let your Godfather take you home, hm?" A strange and yet familiar voice coos, accompanied by sullied blue hair and a crow-like mask.

"Godfather- then- Father has died?" You ask, looking at the man, confused. You're not sure if he heard you. Your throat feels stuffy, so the volume of your words is minimal.

"Yep! You have no idea how long I've waited. So, (Y/N), will you come with me willingly? You have nothing to lose, do you?" The man, claiming to be your godfather, whispers cruelly. Your hands shook, and his grin seemed to widen. Did your fear excite him? Who was this? It hit you. This was the 'God' that Father prayed to. But he was no God, not really. His essence was too cruel to be the benevolent God Father claimed to love.

"Y-Your name." You stutter.

"Hm? Well, I suppose I can tell you that, under the pretense, I get to know something from you first. Tell me, (Y/N), what do you think I am?" Did he know what you were thinking? Could he read your face? You didn't know, but your mouth refused to move. His presence felt like a thick ooze, sinking and slipping over your skin, entangling your flesh and clothes in its putrid fluidity.

"I asked a question. Do I need to ask again?" His hand touched your chin, his skin freezing to the touch.

"A false God." You manage. Though you hadn't intended to be so honest.

"A false God? Hahaha! Good, then you don't expect me to be gentle. I am Il Dottore." The man smiled widely, his sharp, shark-like teeth catching light on the edges as shadow cascaded over his face and mask. You press your back against the carriage door instinctually, your body shaking. Why did that scare you? Why did that name sound so familiar? It wasn't the name of a God, no, it was the title of something far worse, far more mortal.

"The Wings of Revolution-"

"Oh? You know of us? Well, that makes it easier." Dottore grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the carriage, "Ah, minor mimicry, what a fascinating skill. I'm excited to learn all about it."

Just like that, it felt like your world was being consumed. How would you escape this? You were frozen in place. A stream of water replaces the spot Dottore's head used to be.

"It looks like I got here on time. I'll escort you back to the Wriothesley Estate. I'm afraid it would be too dangerous to finish the journey to the palace." Neuvillette states with a sigh, "Worry not about Furina, I will discuss this with her." You nod without thinking and look down at the headless body in front of you. Instead of viscera, you notice wood.

"It wasn't ... him ... Then what was that ominous feeling?"

"... Yes, it was Puppet Magic. The real culprit remains intact." Neuvillette confirms your suspicions in an instant. Puppet magic is well known as cruel magic. It is a manipulation of the soul and body. That magic is most commonly used like this, as an extension of the creator's will. In this case, it was a doll made to host a piece of the soul and memory of the creator. Of course, this likely means that the creator knows what happened here since those memories return once the exterior unit is destroyed.

"Then he will come back ..." You realize, your gaze blurring as a rush of nausea grasps your neck and stomach.

"I can not deny that. However, I can assure you that Wriothesley, within his Domain, will stand by you." Neuvillette tries to comfort you. He sounds so sure. You want to believe him. But is it safe? Puppet Master's manipulate the soul. His strangely soothing presence could be a result of that. You nod quietly. Did you have anywhere to go? You had no friends, your family wasn't an option, and Wriothesley was the only one with his arms open to you. Did you have a choice?

Yes. You told yourself. Of course, I have a choice. It's just a bad one. Truthfully, you only had one choice to survive. Despite your prior thoughts on the matter you weren't willing to actively choose demise, it had to take you itself.

"... I have a way to guarantee your safety, but it means giving up your freedom," Wriothesley tells you. His voice is softer than usual, and his eyes look tired. You falter.

"That is the only way. That is what you mean." You mutter, biting your lip. Did you have freedom? Was that a right you felt was worth the risk? You close your eyes and think. The creeping shadows and cold touch creep through your thoughts, scrapping at your mind and digging into you. You stop breathing for a moment before opening your eyes. The world is slightly blurred and you feel unsteady. You came to a decision. Wriothesley was generous compared to his rumors. You knew that the safest option was to be near him in this house. It still felt suffocating, but you knew it was the right choice.

"I'm sorry that this is the choice I can offer you. A binding to this place." What you didn't know was that Wriothesley's heart was racing. His lips had shifted into a subtle smile covered by a thoughtful cup of tea.

"I ... accept. So tell me what to do." Your voice shakes despite your wishes to sound confident. Wriothesley doesn't comment on this, instead he asks you to close your eyes and hold out your hand. There was no other option, so you did as he said. It was only when the whispers of a curse settled in that you understood what he had done. He had given you the same curse he bears. This curse was cold, like steel cuffs clinging to your wrists.

"Don't cry, I'll protect you." Were you crying? The hot tears fall down your cheeks, falling pleasantly into the hungry carpet beneath you. Wriothesley sounds happier than normal, but maybe you're mistaking his kind consolation as something more. He offered you a hug, a gesture you were not well acquainted with. Maybe that is what drew you to it, why you accept his arms so willingly around your smaller frame. His breath tickles your ear as he whispers gentle consolation. His breath feels strangely cold, but not unpleasant.

"I will make sure no one takes you away carelessly." His words were surely meant to be sweet. You knew he was trying to be kind. You just felt a strange sense of sickness twist in your stomach.

...

"I don't take kindly to false promises Wriothesley."

"I did not lie, you have done well to aid me. In return, here are the artifacts you wanted. You may do as you please with them according to our deal."

"I'm sure you'll need my help again soon. You know how to contact me."

"Of course, Doctor, I hope you weren't too bored. You even sent a puppet alone."

"Minor Mimicry. You know that 'minor' mimicry doesn't exist don't you?"

"Of course I do."

...

#genshin impact #yandere #tw yandere #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #genshin wriothesley #Someone said he was boring #so I decided to make this.#Anyways- enjoy.#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #tw implied abuse #tw implied violence #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #gn reader #reader insert #x reader

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: The Sway

Pov My little Fanfiction Astarion X Amaara Ashvale (My Wizard Tav)

Your wish is my command

It was obvious to everyone Amaara was smitten with Astarion. Just look at that dreamy smile that graced her lips and that adoring gaze she often cast his way! Shadowheart had even commented that their affection was becoming sickening.

Initially, Astarion had only seduced Amaara as a matter of self-preservation. He sought to win over a useful ally against potential threats. But he soon became aware of just how thoroughly the young mage had fallen for his charms. He decided to see what he could make her do, now that she regarded him with such trusting, enamored eyes...

One night as Amaara and Gale tallied inventory, the vampire spawn strolled up.

"Darling, the vendor in the grove has this exquisite enchanted leather armor. I've been thinking that it might suit me better. My current attire is too flashy for effective stealth, you see." he purred, "Could we get them tomorrow?"

Amaara looked up from her task, her face lighting up with that familiar smile. "Alright, I'll make sure to get it for you tomorrow."

He continued, letting a hint of needfulness enter his voice, "And there's also an enchanted dagger available. With it, I could offer you an even greater level of protection."

Amaara's response was almost immediate, her dedication unwavering. "What else do you require? Tomorrow, we'll head over and get everything you need."

Gale frowned, his disapproval evident in his voice. "Amaara, we can't simply spend all our coins like that. We must allocate enough for essential supplies."

"I'll go out to gather herbs right now. I'll craft some potions tonight and barter with Arron tomorrow," Amaara assured him, “Don't worry, Gale. I've already set aside ample coins to secure your next magic artifact. You'll be taken care of."

With that, she swiftly departed from the camp. The two men were left alone, and Astarion chuckled, "For someone with good intentions, she certainly knows how to put you in your place."

Gale felt a surge of frustration, a feeling akin to a slap in the face. He knew that his need for magical items often consumed a significant portion of the party's resources.

He replied dryly, "I only want prudent use of our limited funds."

"Of course, forgive my thoughtlessness," Astarion said smoothly. But his smug smile made Gale's blood boil.

Gale opened his mouth for a scathing retort, but caught himself. Astarion awaited his reaction eagerly, but Gale simply gave a thin smile. "If acquiring trinkets keeps you occupied, far be it from me to intervene."

With that, he smoothly returned to his task, denying Astarion the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. After all, Astarion is the last person on Faerûn he wants to engage in a conversation with.

__________________________________________________________

The Sway

As the party's journey unfolded, they stumbled upon a mesmerizing dark amethyst during one of their explorations. Amaara's keen intellect kicked into gear as she examined the gem, a glint of realization shining in her eyes. She declared, "This is it. This is the key that can unlock the Necromancy of Thay."

A spark of intrigue lit up Astarion's gaze at her words. Observing the glimmer of hesitation in Amaara's eyes, he saw a chance to bend her will to his desires once more. He turned to her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Would you be so kind as to let me have that book, darling?"

Amaara's fingers hovered uncertainly over the dark tome, an uneasiness settling in her chest. The ominous aura that clung to the book made her instincts recoil, a caution born of a lifetime of scholarly pursuits and magical studies. "I don't know...necromantic knowledge can be dangerous."

"I just wanted an edge over Cazador." Astarion purred, nuzzling her neck. "To keep myself safe, to keep you safe."

His touch made her shiver with longing, but apprehension lingered. "Perhaps it would be safer if Gale simply absorbed it..."

"Come now. Think of what knowledge could be gained from it," he cajoled, appealing to her scholarly side. His voice was a silky temptation that stirred something within her. "Imagine the secrets it holds, just waiting to be unveiled. I promise to tread carefully." he stroked her arm and met her eyes beseechingly.

Try as she might, Amaara found herself unable to resist when he gazed at her like that. "Alright, fine. But promise me you'll be careful, Astarion. Necromancy is dangerous, but it's not uncontrollable. I'll be watching over you." she conceded.

Astarion's lips curved into a satisfied smile, a silent triumph dancing in his gaze. He extended his hand, the anticipation evident in his posture. "You have my word, my dear. I'll handle it with the utmost care. You'll see."

And so, with the dark tome and the weight of his unspoken intentions, Astarion gained yet another victory.

_____________________________________________________

Murmurs of Discontent

Amaara accompanied Astarion on his nightly hunt one night. The flickering campfire cast a warm yet eerie glow upon the gathering of rest of the companions, their faces shadowed as they huddled together in quiet conversation. Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae'zel formed a circle, their shared unease drawing them together.

"Do you all see this? The way he's able to influence her decisions with such ease? It's as if she's... under his spell." Gale's brow furrowed.

Shadowheart's lips pressed into a thin line as she spoke, her voice edged with frustration. "We've seen the way she looks at him, as if he's the center of her world. It's sickening, really."

"Can't blame her for indulging in a bad boy," Karlach grinned and winked.

Wyll said. "True, but Astarion is not oblivious to this power he wields over her. He uses his influence to his advantage, and who's to say where that might lead us?"

Karlach's playful expression vanished. She slammed a fist into her palm. "Right then. it's time I had a little chat with that parasite, set him straight."

"Maybe something more subtle?" Gale suggested quickly. "Threatening him directly could make things worse."

Lae'zel finally spoke up after everyone voiced their concern. Her voice has a determined edge. "Amaara is no fool. The sways you worried about so far are over inconsequential decisions. She is not someone to be easily manipulated. Let's not underestimate her. We should wait and observe. If it becomes too out of control, simply dispose of him."

Lae'zel's words gave them pause. Perhaps they had underestimated Amaara's will. They exchanged glances between themselves. It is a delicate matter after all. For now, they will keep a watchful eye and do nothing more.

#astarion #astarion fanart #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x mc #astarion fanfiction #I Hail From Silverymoon #Amaara Ashvale #clip studio paint #My star field character has been sitting there waiting for me for 2 weeks now #baldurs gate 3

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cherryrainn · 4 months

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━━ ✧ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 {𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

.11 - 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚.

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; s3lf harm, depression, bulimia, mental health issues, self hatred, stuff like that, and just like my other stories... lots of angst!

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

─ ✩ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ; here

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

the room's silence hung heavy in the air as you lay on the worn-out mattress, replaying the unexpected kiss in your mind. the door creaked open, breaking the solitude, and in walked striker. his presence filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and confusion.

he glanced at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his yellow eyes. the atmosphere shifted, and for a moment, it seemed like the room held the weight of unspoken words. without acknowledging the recent intimate moment, striker cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

he sauntered over to the chair, his usual demeanor returning. "got a job. big one. and you're gonna be a part of it."

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "me? i don't even know how to properly use a gun."

striker chuckled, the straw of wheat dancing between his lips. "don't you worry, sweetheart. i'll teach you, and i'll teach you fast. we don't have time for a slow learning curve on this one."

a surge of anxiety twisted in your gut. this wasn't just some spontaneous sparring session; this was striker's actual job, and apparently, you were about to be a part of it for whatever reason. the weight of the responsibility sank in, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this was a significant turning point.

you hesitated, your mind racing. "why though? can't you just... do it yourself?"

striker smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "you've got potential, sweetheart. besides, i like working with someone who's got a bit of fire in them. adds some excitement to the job."

his nonchalant attitude did little to ease your nerves. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "alright, fine. teach me. but i'm not making any promises about being a natural at this."

striker's grin widened. "that's the spirit. you'll catch on quicker than you think. we'll get what we need when we see the man. no need for papers just yet."

you nodded, a mixture of determination and anxiety coursing through you. "alright, but i'm tired. we just got to this motel."

striker rolled his eyes, the southern drawl returning with a hint of annoyance. "we're not going now. we'll hit the sack and head out in the morning. can't pull off a job like this with no rest."

relief washed over you at the prospect of getting some rest, but the weight of the upcoming task lingered in the back of your mind. you followed striker's lead as he made his way towards the bed, flopping down with the same nonchalant attitude he seemed to carry everywhere.

as you settled onto the mattress, the worn-out springs groaning beneath your weight, striker cast you a sidelong glance. "get some sleep, darlin'. we've got a busy day ahead of us."

you nodded, feeling the exhaustion settling in. the events of the day, from the chaotic streets of wrath to the impromptu sparring session, had left you physically and mentally drained. despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, sleep claimed you swiftly, pulling you into the realm of dreams haunted by the demons of your own mind.

morning light seeped through the cracks in the motel's curtains, rousing you from your restless slumber. striker, ever the early riser, was already up and about, his silhouette visible against the faint glow of the rising sun.

"rise and shine, darlin'," he called out, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "can't i catch a break and sleep in once in a while?"

striker chuckled, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room. "not in this line of work. we're on a schedule."

you begrudgingly got up, the fatigue clinging to you like a heavy cloak. the reality of the day ahead hit you, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous energy.

"so, what's the plan?" you asked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

striker tossed you a firearm, its cold metal weight unfamiliar in your hands. "first, we'll get you acquainted with this beauty. then, we'll pay our friend a visit and make sure he's properly motivated to cooperate."

the gravity of striker's words sank in, and you couldn't deny the apprehension that settled in your gut. this wasn't a game; it was the dangerous dance of demons, and you were about to take your first steps.

the two of you stepped out into the chaotic streets of wrath, the city already alive with activity. bombproof stood patiently, its eyes fixed on you two as if knowing the role he played in the upcoming venture.

striker motioned for you to hop onto bombproof, his usual swagger evident even in the early hours of the day. "time to ride. we've got business to attend to."

you climbed onto the demonic steed, the sensation of its unnatural warmth beneath you sending a shiver down your spine. striker mounted behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

"let's get outta here for a bit," striker suggested, guiding bombproof away from the bustling streets of wrath.

you held onto bombproof as the cityscape gradually transformed into a desolate expanse on the outskirts of the district. the chaotic rhythm of hell's heart faded into the distance, replaced by the eerie stillness of the abandoned training ground.

striker brought bombproof to a halt in the empty arena, the dusty ground beneath the horse's hooves. he dismounted with his usual nonchalant manner and turned to you, a glint of mischief in his yellow eyes.

"alright, sweetheart. time for your first lesson. we'll use this place to avoid any unwanted attention."

you raised an eyebrow, the charged atmosphere making your pulse quicken. striker reached into a hidden compartment on bombproof, pulling out a pair of handguns. he offered one to you, his tall figure towering behind you as his hands guided yours, helping you find the right grip.

"first, familiarize yourself with the weapon. get comfortable with its weight and feel. it's an extension of yourself," he explained, his tone surprisingly sultry.

his height allowed him to lean over you, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered encouragement. you couldn't deny the thrill that shot through you, the shared proximity creating an intimate connection that transcended the mundane.

"now, let's see what you've got. aim for that rock over there," striker instructed, his voice a low murmur.

with striker's tall frame behind you, he guided your stance, his hands lingering on your waist. his proximity, combined with the dangerous allure of the guns, heightened the intensity of the moment. the shot rang out, the echo lingering in the desolate space.

striker grinned, leaning down. "not bad for a beginner. now, let's work on accuracy. adjust your stance, find your rhythm, and squeeze the trigger smoothly."

the impromptu shooting lesson continued, striker's tall presence a dominating force behind you. he corrected your form with a touch that spoke of expertise and desire, turning the barren landscape into a backdrop for a dance of shadows and sin.

as the sun cast long shadows across the desolate training ground, striker called for a break. you sat on a weathered rock, the adrenaline of the lesson still coursing through your veins. striker joined you, the air thick with a palpable tension.

"not bad at all, sugar." striker purred. "but, let's head back. we've got business to attend to, and i've got more to teach you," striker said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

as you and striker made your way back to bombproof, the lingering heat of the shooting lesson still hung in the air. striker helped you onto the demonic steed with a casual ease that spoke of familiarity. the imp's strong arms encircled your waist once again, creating a sense of intimacy that seemed to have taken root.

"we're headed to the pride ring. our man's waiting," striker informed.

bombproof carried you through the chaotic streets of wrath, the rhythmic clattering of hooves a steady cadence to the sinuous dance of the city. the neon glow of demonic establishments illuminated the way, casting surreal shadows on the dusty streets.

upon reaching the pride ring, striker guided bombproof through the bustling crowd, the imp's figure cutting through the chaos. you dismounted, and striker's hand reached out, a silent invitation for you to stand by his side.

the man who had hired striker awaited in the dimly lit corner of a shadowy bar. he was a demon with a polished demeanor, dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of both wealth and authority. his eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room as if he could see through the very fabric of hell.

"striker, right on time!" the man acknowledged, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. his gaze then shifted to you, and a sly grin crept onto his face. "and who's this lovely creature?"

striker's drawl added a touch of mockery to the formality of the conversation. "this is y/n, my partner. they've got the skills we need for the job." he said, not exactly telling the truth.

the man's eyes lingered on you, an appraising glint in his gaze. "well, striker, you've outdone yourself this time. a partner with both beauty and skill. impressive."

striker's protective instinct flared, his form subtly positioning itself between you and the man. "we're here for business, sir. let's get to it."

the man, whose name was damien chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit bar. "business it is, then. the job details are in the dossier. i trust you'll handle it with your usual flair."

the atmosphere in the dimly lit bar grew thick with tension as damien delved into the details of the mission. you listened intently, the weight of the impending task settling on your shoulders.

"our target is lucius infernum," damien began, his voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "he's a demon with fingers in every sinful pie you can imagine. lust, greed, you name it. but what sets him apart is his ownership of the infamous nightclub, obsidian temptation, right here in the pride ring."

the mention of the nightclub brought a spark of recognition. obsidian temptation was notorious even among the denizens of hell. a haven for the debauchery of the prideful, its neon-lit facade hid secrets that extended beyond the dance floor.

"he's been a thorn in the side of many. it's time someone plucked it out," damien continued, his eyes flickering with a mix of contempt and desire. "lucius is a slippery one, but we've got a lead. he frequents a private section in the club, a den of indulgence reserved for the most esteemed clients."

striker's eyes narrowed, his mind already formulating a plan. "and what's our approach? walk in and take the shot?"

damien's grin widened. "not quite. lucius is surrounded by loyal bodyguards. we need subtlety. blend in with the crowd, get close, and strike when the moment is right."

as the details unfolded, a sense of urgency permeated the air. the nightclub, a pulsating heart of decadence, awaited your infiltration. damien handed you a dossier, its pages filled with information about lucius—his habits, weaknesses, and the layout of obsidian temptation.

"he's a creature of desire, easily swayed by temptation. use that to your advantage," damien advised, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that hinted at more than just professional interest.

striker's jaw tightened, a protective instinct flaring. "we'll get the job done. no need for extra complications."

the man chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "complications make things interesting, striker. your little friend here can handle themselves, i'm sure. lucius might find them quite... intriguing."

you tilted your head, considering damien's words. "that's a pretty good idea. if it helps us get closer to this guy, i'm in."

striker's eyes met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. "yeah, might add a layer of distraction. we play his game, and then we finish it on our terms."

damien's grin widened, clearly satisfied with the response. "glad you see the potential. now, remember, subtlety is key. get close to lucius, earn his trust. the less attention you draw, the better."

as you and striker left the dimly lit bar, the neon glow of the pride ring intensified. the city's heartbeat echoed in the distance, a rhythm that synced with the impending mission.

striker spoke, his voice low and measured. "this could work to our advantage. just follow my lead, and we'll navigate this dance."

the decision was made: to infiltrate lucius's world, you needed to blend in seamlessly with the vibrant tapestry of the pride ring. that meant acquiring clothes that oozed charm and sophistication. with striker in tow, you ventured into a stylish boutique that promised an array of ensembles.

the store was a riot of colors and fabrics, each garment vying for attention. striker, looking thoroughly unimpressed, slouched onto a plush couch in a corner, a clear declaration of his disinterest in the world of fashion.

undeterred, you dove into the racks, selecting outfits that caught your eye. the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the soft rustle of fabric. as you sifted through hangers, striker's nonchalant expression betrayed a hint of boredom.

after a series of deliberations, you settled on a sleek ensemble that struck the perfect balance between sophistication and allure. as you headed to the changing room, you shot a glance at striker, who had reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, hat pulled low to shield his eyes.

slipping into the changing room, you marveled at how the outfit hugged your form in all the right places. the mirror reflected a version of yourself that seemed tailor-made for the clandestine dance you were about to embark on.

a mischievous idea sparked in your mind. striker appeared to be on the verge of succumbing to boredom-induced slumber. it was time to inject a little excitement into his world.

stepping out of the changing room with a deliberate sway in your hips, you announced, "what do you think, striker? am i ready to charm the socks off lucius?"

the effect was immediate. striker, roused from his near-nap, blinked in surprise. his eyes, usually sharp and focused, widened as they traced the contours of the outfit. a noticeable flush crept up his cheeks, a reaction you hadn't expected.

"the socks? i think you're ready for more, sweetheart." a slight smirk had been spread on his face, as he watched you sway your hips which seemed to drive him crazy.

you chuckled at his flustered response, reveling in the rare sight of striker caught off guard. "well, if i'm going to play the seduction game, i need to look the part, right?"

striker cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "yeah, yeah, sure. let's just get this over with."

with a sly grin, you couldn't resist the opportunity to tease striker. closing the distance between you two, you playfully pinched his cheek. the moment your fingers made contact, he let out a hiss, his tail rattling in an instinctive response. he tried to remain calm but his body was betraying him, making him feel flustered.

"how cute," you remarked with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "no need to be mister tough guy all the time."

striker shot you a glare, his pride wounded by the unexpected cheek pinch. "cut that out. we've got a job to do, remember?"

you couldn't resist pushing striker's buttons a bit further. ignoring his warning glare, you continued your playful banter, teasing him with each step.

"aw, is the tough man feeling a little delicate?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "didn't know cheek pinches were kryptonite for assassins."

his tail rattled in annoyance, but you could see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. "you're pushing your luck, sweetheart. focus on the job."

you chuckled, undeterred by his warning. "relax, cowboy. i can multitask. piece of cake."

striker let out an exasperated sigh, realizing that arguing with you was a futile endeavor. "just don't get us killed with your multitasking, okay?"

you grinned, enjoying the playful exchange. "no promises."

after selecting a set of alluring clothes, you and striker made your way to the counter to pay. the sweet lady behind the counter looked at the two of you with a warm smile, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

"are you a couple?" she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

the question caught you off guard, and you exchanged a glance with striker. both of you seemed momentarily flustered, a subtle blush coloring your cheeks.

"uh, no, we're not," you replied, your playful demeanorfrom before momentarily replaced by a hint of awkwardness.

the sweet lady chuckled knowingly, as if she had seen this scene play out countless times. "well, you make a cute couple. enjoy your evening, you two."

striker scoffed at the cashier's comment, a smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, real cute," he muttered under his breath.

you, on the other hand, decided to play along with the teasing atmosphere. as you left the store, you shot striker a sly grin. "well, who would've thought, striker? people mistaking us for a couple."

he rolled his eyes, a hint of irritation in his voice. "yeah, yeah, hilarious. let's just get this job done."

striker's dismissive tone stung, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt. the playful banter had seemed harmless, but now it appeared that striker wasn't as unaffected by it as he let on. you shook off the brief moment of vulnerability, reminding yourself that this mission was more important than any temporary discomfort.

"fine, let's focus on the job," you replied, your tone more serious now. "we've got a nightclub owner to deal with."

striker grunted in agreement, his demeanor shifting back to business. the streets of the pride ring stretched ahead, vibrant and chaotic. the neon lights reflected in puddles on the pavement as you both moved forward.

#STRIKER #helluva boss #helluva #helluva boss striker #striker helluva boss #striker x reader #bulimia #helluva boss x reader #angst #depression #y/n #reader insert #x reader

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9leaguesofmirrors · 19 days

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Just Can't Stand It (A Legz Akimbo fic)

So, I mentioned before that I wanted to write a fic about the scene where Legz Akimbo split, but from the perspectives of Dave and Phil. I touched on it in my first Dave and Phil fic, but I wanted to expand on that idea a little

CONTENT WARNING: Verbal abuse

"Phil?"

After looking through every studio in their tiny rehearsal space, Dave finally found his mate in the empty audience of a barren, black-box theatre. Clearly in a bad mood, and Dave understood exactly why

"Sorry, did you need the space?

"No, no it's alright. Just wondered where you'd gone off to."

"Just needed to get away for a bit."

Dave didn't blame him at all. It was been a pretty intense day at rehearsals, somehow even moreso than usual, what with Ollie throwing some pretty harsh accusations at Phil

"Need me to receive a very important phone call and leave you alone?"

That got a small chuckle from Phil. Not much, it didn't meet his eyes, but it was something

"You're alright, was getting a bit dull anyway."

"Well, if you're waiting for a show," he goes as sits in a seat next to him "you'll be waiting for a while."

"Better than being out there with him..." muttered Phil

Silence fell around them. Both of them knew what Phil's comment meant. Ollie was harsh on them both, but the abuse he delivered to him was far more blatant. Maybe because he knew that Dave was easier to mess with subtly, he never did understand sarcasm. Besides, he always thought Phil was the actor Ollie always thought he was, not that he'd ever say that out loud. He quite enjoyed not being dead or severely concussed

"What he said wasn't true, I know." Dave assured him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder "I mean, you're way to talented to have to rely on spreading your legs for a role-"

"Why don't you get accused of it?"

That was not what he was expecting to hear

"I never-"

I know," Phil sighed "I just... why is it always me? It's like he can't seem to fathom that I'm actually good at what I do. He doesn't see that I'm way better than he gives me credit for."

"I think he does." Dave looked at his mate's incredulous expression and nodded "Yeah! I think he does! I mean, you're a versatile performer with charisma and integrity. Ollie wishes he could be like you, and that's why he hates you. Because you're a real actor."

"Don't feel like it." Phil muttered

Sighing, Dave looked out at the empty performance space. Then there was a moment. A flickering light, as if a flame whipped across the stage in his mind

"If you could play any character in the world, who would it be?"

He watched as Phil pondered his question for a moment, either that or he was asking himself why it was being sprung on him. Regardless, he answered

"I want someone complex. maybe a good man that does bad things." That same light now started to glisten in Phil's eyes "I'd be a character with charisma, intelligence. Maybe someone in the British government. One that's lonely, but cares deeply for his family." He starts to smile sadly "But, knowing Ollie, he'd cast himself in that role."

"I wouldn't."

Phil's face became confused

"I'll write something, for us."

Then, Phil laughed

"Ollie will never let you."

"Worth a try, right?" Dave stood up, bounding to the performance area "And, if he doesn't like it, I'll make it myself!" He looked out at the empty rows and, for a fleeting moment, saw a full house. But something was missing "C'mon Phil, come join me!"

Rolling his eyes fondly, he did. And Dave put a hand round his shoulder again, looking out at the seats

"I'm gonna make a play," he said "that we'll both be great in. A serious, troubled character for you-"

"And a warm, comedic one for you?" Phil suggested "One that shows off your physical comedy."

"You know me well, you do!"

"It could be about two friends breaking into the entertainment industry-"

"-but one of them passes away-"

"-and they grieve the life they left behind-"

"-while also coming to terms with their friend's death!"

They looked out in silence again, but this time it felt buzzy and warm, like something was opening in front of them, ready for them to bask in

"This," Dave said, hugging his mate tightly "is gonna be our big break. I can feel it."

"A two-hander, just for us."

"Well, yeah. That's what a two-hander is!"

"Oh, piss off!" Phil laughed

Their laughter soon melted the frost that once clouded the air

*********************************************

"Ollie, you got a minute?"

It was finally time for a break, and Dave managed to catch their director before he scurried off

"If you're going to ask for a bigger part-"

"No, not at all! I just..." he started pressing the pads of his fingers together "well, I wanted to get a second opinion from our very own writer. See, I've-"

"I'm more than a writer, Dave." Ollie heaved an exasperated sigh "I'm a director, a producer, an actor and a-"

"Yes, yes, I know. But I'm coming to you in the hopes you could offer me some help... writer to writer."

That made Ollie do a double take, looking at him with sheer disbelief

"How can you call yourself a writer? You've never written a play in your life!"

"Well, actually," Dave ran to his bag, returning with a script that he slapped against the desk with great enthusiasm "I've been writing in secret for a while, and I came up with something recently that I want you to read."

Wordlessly, Ollie picked up the document and flicked through

Dave couldn't stop fiddling with his hands. This was the first time he'd shown anyone, other than Phil, his writing. And even he hadn't seen all of his scripts. Sharing something like that was deeply personal, a huge

"It's, um, it's not finished or anything. But I'd really appreciate the feedback and-"

"I'll read it," he waved his hand dismissively "I've got nothing better to do. Not unless Phil suddenly decides his lines are worth learning."

"To be fair to him, he's doing alright considering we only got the script last week..."

Realising that Ollie wasn't actually listening by this point, Dave simply left the room

*********************************************

"I read it."

By now, it was after rehearsals and Phil had been dismissed. It was just Ollie and Dave, with the former sat at his little table and the latter sat down on the edge of the stage

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you think?"

Instead of responding, Ollie started to sift through and took out a few pages

"For starters, this scene has to go." He ripped the pages, much to the shock of Dave "It just doesn't work."

"OK, but could you at least ask me before destroying my-"

"And this scene."

Rip

"And this one."

Rip

"And this entire section. And, honestly, this whole character. While we're at it, let's just get rid of THIS ONE TOO!"

Rip. Rip. Rip. Rip. Rip. Rip

Dave wanted to storm over and yank the script right out of his hands, but the sheer shock of the situation had caused him to freeze. And he just watched. Watched as his pride and joy, his ticket out, his art, was destroyed with horrible ease

"What RIGHT?!" Ollie screeched as he threw the remains onto the floor, leaping from his seat and waving his arms wildly "What RIGHT DO YOU HAVE to COME IN HERE and show me this RUBBISH! I did not become Legz Akimbo's writer to be UNDERMINED like this!"

Dave opened his mouth to say something, but he suddenly became more focused on scampering backward upstage to avoid the madman coming towards him with a chair. As he saw it leave Ollie's hands, he cowered on the floor, hearing it slam against the back wall. He didn't dare lift his head, unprepared to face another potential attack

"I SLAVE AWAY at that desk for HOURS creating the BEST ISSUE-BASED PLAYS in Royston Vasey but NO. APPARENTLY IT WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. JUST like how it wasn't good enough for Linda, NOBODY APPRECIATES THEATRE ANYMORE

Dave wasn't sure how events transpired between the tirade and Ollie leaving the ruined script on the floor as he stormed out, but one moment he was face-to-face with an angry director, and the next he was alone. He went over and picked up some of the paper, unable to cry. Just staring at the rubble of his imagination. Of what could've been a future. Maybe not a long future, but a future nonetheless. Something he could be proud of. Something he was proud of

"Are you just gonna stand there then?"

His eyes darted to the doorway, where Ollie stood with an irritated glare

"Come on, it's just paper. Surely you have another copy, no use crying over it!"

Dave opened his mouth to explain that no, he wasn't crying, but nothing came out. All he could do was shake his head

"I don't know why I bother sometimes." Ollie muttered, loud enough for Dave to hear, before walking off

The room felt like it had gone colder. The evening glow outside darkened as the walls closed in. Dave just stood there, motionless. Paper crumpled in his hand. His whole body was frozen until he heard a familiar ringtone come from his pocket. Putting his phone to his ear, he accepted the call

"Dave?"

Again, he opened his mouth to speak, fingertips pressing together. And, once again, nothing escaped his throat

"Dave, are you there?"

Nothing

"Look, if you're busy, I can wait."

Dave shook his head, as if Phil was somehow able to see it

"I just didn't hear back, wanted to know what Ollie thought about the script-"

That was interrupted by the rapid sound of Dave's fist being slammed against the table. Then his throat caught as he tried to choke back his tears

"He hated it."

"Seriously? Did he even read it?"

"It's on the floor. He ripped it."

"He ripped it up?" The shock was evident in Phil's voice "Do you... have a copy somewhere?"

"Yes."

For a moment, nothing was said. In the silence, Dave felt acutely aware of his surroundings. Of the slight buzzing of the lights, the fabric of his shirt sleeves over his arms, the shouting outside, the sweat on his brow. It was so much. So much. So much-

"Dave," came the quiet voice of his friend "I can pick you up if you want. Save you walking."

"... Alright."

"OK, I'm on my way."

"Right. See you then."

Dave hung up, sitting down on the stage with his head on his palms. He stayed there until Phil came back

Even then, he didn't turn his head when he heard his mate come in. It was like his whole body had fused together, rendering movement impossible. But he could tell Phil was looking around at the scattered remains of his work.

He watched as Phil went around, picking up each piece and putting it in the nearest bin. Then he went and sat beside him, looking at him with eyes full of apologies - as if he was the one that caused it

"I'm gonna miss you," Dave said quietly "when you leave for your big project."

"Hardly a big project." Phil chuckled

"Bigger than this. Not sure how Legz Akimbo's gonna go ahead without you."

"You're not staying, are you?"

"Can't leave. Where else can I go?"

When Phil didn't respond, Dave finally looked at him

"What else do I have?"

"You have your scripts."

Laughing hollowly, Dave looked at the bin

He then feels something familiar on his back, something warm. That simple touch probably wouldn't have meant much in any other context, but it said a lot here. It was comforting, unifying and gentle. They'd both spent so much time with Ollie that they'd forgotten what it felt like to be handled with care. Handled like they mattered. And, even if it was for a fleeting moment, it was nice to be reminded that they were important to someone

"If you're going, I'm going."

That surprised Phil slightly

"What, you're leaving?"

"If you are."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Dunno. Not here. You're the only reason I stayed, I liked doing stuff with my best mate. No point sticking around if you're going."

Instead of speaking, Phil slowly moved his arm around Dave's shoulders, holding him without completely invading his personal space

"Ollie's gonna kill us." He laughed "He'll go red."

"Purple, more like." Dave couldn't help but join in "He'll probably burst!"

It was strange, in that moment, to find some kind of joy in their situation. But, in the end, it got them through. The laughter, the warmth of it: it kept them alive

*********************************************

All through the performance, Dave wasn't present. He knew that. And Ollie probably did as well. His mind was split between two outcomes, leave Legz Akimbo and risk not finding steady work for years, or stay in a job that will slowly crush him? He needed his sanity, but he also needed money

He was so in his head, he hadn't realised Ollie had clambered off his shoulders and was now starting on Phil until he managed to catch the end of his rant

"Not because he's talented, it's not! But because he bums the director."

Dave saw Phil's face, that look of anguish and disgust, as he walked offstage. It was a low blow, they all knew that. Phil was a talented actor, yet always so unsure. That's what people in the industry, people like Ollie Plimsolls have always done: break people apart until they question their ability. He'd done that to Phil, that good-hearted, determined man with such a gift, and was intent on destroying him until there was nothing left

It wasn't fair. Not on someone as dedicated and talented as Phil Proctor

"Other people like me and Dave, we plod on, working-"

"Don't Ollie."

"WHAT? I'm telling everyone how DEDICATED we are-"

"I'm leaving Legz Akimbo."

"... WHAT!"

It felt odd, to say it out loud

He should've been nervous about Ollie lashing out again

Should've

But he wasn't

In that moment, looking at him now, Dave realised how small he truly was. Not just in height, but in significance. To him. For the first time, he saw Ollie for what he was. A lonely, bitter man that couldn't reach his own dreams, so took it out on anyone he deemed as a rival. A man that pretended to care about issues he didn't know a thing about, just because it made him look more important than he actually was

And Dave realised something in that very moment: he owed that man nothing

Not his time

Not his dedication

Not his work

Not his life

"Why are you doing this, Dave?"

His whole body felt light, but his head was heavy. As if all the pain and torment he'd absorbed over the years had finally been squeezed out of him, as if he'd finally been wringed like a sponge, leaving only exhaustion. Were it any other moment, he would've floated. But now he was oddly grounded, as if this was nothing more than a job he should've done a long time ago

"I just can't stand you, Ollie."

Mumbling an apology to their audience, he left. The adrenaline carrying him, in a steady pace, out of the auditorium and into the corridor, his eyes fixed on the exit

His hand met the handle, felt the coolness under his palm, and pushed it open. A familiar face greeted him in the front seat of a car

"Figured I'd save you walking."

Dave smiled softly and got in beside Phil, strapping in his seatbelt before they drove away, leaving that man behind them and advancing into whatever was waiting for them

#dave parkes #phil proctor #ollie plimsolls #legz akimbo #legz akimbo theatre company

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koskela-knights · 3 months

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Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. ♥

<33 Thank you for the ask!!

Surprise (not), the Koskela playlist from my Spotify 😏

TLDR, the 5 songs are:

Heroes and Villains by PoTF

The Enemy by Andrew Belle

Achilles by GARETH FERNANDEZ

Crosses by José González

Don't Let Me Go by RAIGN

Now for a more detailed explanation on why all these songs are in my Koskela (and Huotari) list and what prominent lyrics/vibes make me think of them.

1. Heroes and Villains by Poets of the Fall

"We're heroes and villains by chance Heroes and villains by choice"

I think that sums up their role as Cult leaders. Villains to some, heroes to others even if many may not know/understand it. They chose to villainize themselves to keep their home safe.

2. The Enemy by Andrew Belle

This song was recommended after I added 'Pieces' by the same artist in this list.

"Don't try to follow me I would Hold you down if I could Make you the enemy I would Let you down"

idk, this part gives me Jaako & Ilmo vibes. Their relationship to each other, how they can be each other's downfall if not balanced out. (I think echo! Ilmo is an interesting case as what could become of Ilmo if he lost Jaakko much earlier)

"I hold you down I hold you down I hold you"

Then there's this part in the song. And what's interesting to me here, is that I can hear 'I hold you' as different things too. Either 'I hurt you' or 'I haunt you'. Which sums up the last scene of the brothers together. Getting Jaakko involved, made him end up dead (I know this is a really short-sighted observation, but I bet Ilmo feels super guilty about the Cult thing.) And 'I haunt you' is Ilmo post-Jaakko's death being haunted by his shadow and memories.

3. Achilles by GARETH FERNDANDEZ

"I want something I can touch Something I can feel I learnt that my pride is my Achilles heel And when my time is up You know my love was real"

This one's an Ilmo song to me now (used to only have it in my regular playlists lol) Again, set post-Jaakko's death where he's left with survivor's guilt and realizes that all his pride and prideful endeavors mean nothing when the most important person in his world is gone. Only after Jaakko's death, does he realize how much he loved him and how inseparable they were.

"Set me free angel from my nightmare I woke up in this hell too many times Maybe we were never meant to make it I take these words and set 'em on fire"

This line of "too many times" in particular also stood out to me becos it could imply the spiral and being aware of the spiral (self-promo right here: loop/spiral awareness is smth I've written some short drabbles/oneshots for in the past becos it's such intriguing concept)

4. Crosses by José González

"The streets outside your window over-flooded People staring. They know you've been broken Repeatedly reminded by the looks on their faces Ignore them tonight and you'll be alright We'll cast some light and you'll be alright"

Recommended to me by @zephyrone01 This is a Huotari brothers song. POV of Jaakoppi to Ilmari. This matches up with our "Ilmari was possessed by the DP and people in town got suspicious of him" idea.

5. Don't Let Me Go by RAIGN

"Carry me close like the tear drops in your eyes All I can give you is memories Carry them with you and I'll never leave

Don't let me go Hold me in your beating heart"

Another song recommended by Zephyrone01 hehe. It's a powerful song to me 👀 The Angst!!! This specific part would be a Jaakko POV "I won't let go Forever is not enough"

And this would be Ilmo's POV. Anyways, many songs in this playlist are about memories, echoes, darkness & light and moving on and not wanting to live without the other 💔

#i listen to this list daily and get hit in the feels every single time #anon ask #ask #my posts #my ramblings #and it's a long rambling too #koskela brothers #huotari brothers #jaakko koskela #ilmo koskela #jaakoppi huotari #ilmari huotari #personal

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spooky-fm · 1 year

Text

Phantom Thief

Ao3. Part 1. Part 2. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

Part 3. Neal Caffrey is probably a space pirate

"We are now entering the building, Neal, but it might take us a moment to find the room you are in. We will get you out soon."

"Good, that's good. You remember your promise, right?"

"Yes, I won't freak out. Diana and Jones will also hear you out before making any hasty decisions, ok?" Peter would very much like to know what could possibly make the unflappable conman so concerned about his reaction.

The two agents in question nod and respond verbally for the sake of Neal, who cannot see the gesture over the phone.

"Yeah, Caffrey, we'll listen to you, don't worry."

"We've got your back, man," Jones adds easily.

Peter is so proud of his team. They've come so far in the last two years.

"Thank you," is Neal's only response.

The four of them fall silent as they clear the ground floor and several basement layers. It doesn't take long — the whole place is abandoned, so they quickly discard the floors that are covered in an undisturbed layer of dust and debris. One of the basement floors seems well-used, like someone has been coming and going for a couple of weeks, so they follow the signs of use towards, hopefully, Neal's current location.

Neal has been quiet for the whole time, presumably to let them focus on the search, but the call is still ongoing. Peter almost forgets he is there, until the CI's voice comes through the phone again.

"I think I can hear footsteps," Neal says quietly. "You must be close."

Peter lets out a relieved sigh, echoed on two sides by Jones and Diana. They turn around a corner. There is faint light coming around the next turn.

"That's good, Neal. There seems to be a green light in the distance, is that familiar?" It would be just their luck to run into more hostiles thinking they were Neal.

Neal takes a shuddering breath that has Peter doubting the claim that he doesn't need medical attention, but he decides to wait for visual confirmation before breaking his promise to Neal. They are almost there, and it doesn't seem like Neal is about to keel over. His voice is unsteady, but it seems to be nerves, not pain or dizziness.

"Ye-yeah, Peter, that's me. Yeah," Neal pauses, like he is picking his words carefully. "The green, it's, well, it's a kind of an energy shield. Uh. It's what's keeping me inside the room. I'm not restrained otherwise, but you'll need to, uh, disable the shields. I know it sounds weird, but just," the sigh on the other end of the line seems frustrated instead of worried, and Peter takes that as a small victory. "Just trust me for now, ok?"

"Yeah, alright, Neal. We already promised to go with the flow, so we'll, uh, we'll disable the energy shields," Peter can't help a note of incredulity that seeps into the last words.

Jones huffs in amused disbelief. Diana's eyes sparkle. Peter recalls that she is an avid fan of science fiction novels and wonders when his life stopped making any sense. He thinks it may be somewhere around the moment Neal Caffrey's file landed on his desk.

There is a faint buzzing sound that grows in intensity as they near the room Neal is presumably locked in. It really does look like some sort of sci-fi energy shield, floor-to-ceiling green light, flickering with sparks of green electricity. There is some sort of panel next to it. Peter casts an amused look at Diana, who is failing miserably at concealing her delight.

"Neal?" he calls out, louder than before, and it echoes from the phone in his hand. There is an excited exclamation, similarly echoed, and the call ends with several beeps. Peter locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket.

"Peter!" Neal's voice comes through the door now, excitement almost covering up the nervousness. "And Jones and Diana! I knew you'd find me. I can always count on my dashing knights in FBI armor to save me."

The jokes are weaker than usual, but Peter is just glad that Neal is joking again, even if it is to mask his anxiety. Judging by Diana's snort and by the relieved set of Jones's shoulders, they share Peter's opinion on the matter.

"With how much trouble you attract, Caffrey, we'll soon have that in our official job description," Diana says drily. She carefully inspects the sleek-looking panel on the wall, thankfully not touching any of the small levers and buttons. "Though this is new. Usually your trouble is about treasure maps and ancient caches of art, not futuristic technology."

Neal laughs weakly.

"Yeah, it's been a while since my space adventurer days."

Diana grins at the banter, but Peter is struck by the note of honesty in Neal's words. He valiantly ignores it for the sake of his sanity — whatever's left of it, at any rate.

"The kidnapping is a familiar ground, at least," Jones notes with a teasing grin. "Good to know that regardless of the genre bad guys stay the same."

Neal's laughter is steadier this time, and Peter judges it safe to return to the problem of shutting off energy shields. Because apparently that's what he does now.

"Neal," he calls, trying for 'tired dad' instead of 'angry handler'. "You said we need to shut these ... shields off." Neal snorts quietly at his inflection. That's a success on the attempt at levity then. "Maybe we could come in through the side? It's probably safer to take the wall apart than to play with unknown circuitry."

"That would be a good idea normally," Neal sounds apologetic, "but the shields cover the walls, ceiling, and floor completely. Trust me, if there was a gap in them, I wouldn't need to be rescued."

Peter is not sure what he means by that, probably some escape artist magic only accessible to the internationally famous conmen, but he focuses on the task at hand.

"Alright, that makes sense. So, turning them off. Can you tell us how to do that? You seem more familiar with the technology." And wasn't that a mind-boggling concept.

"I am ... honestly not sure what he put in there this time. But maybe describe to me what you see, and we can go from there."

Peter ignores Jones quietly muttering 'this time' in disbelief and describes the strange array of levers and buttons. He does his best to explain what the signs next to them are, but Neal gives no indication whether he recognizes the inscriptions and terms. Once Peter is finished, there are several minutes of silence, where they can hear very faint mumbling and pacing, before Neal speaks again.

"So, this is not a model with which I am very familiar..." Neal trails off.

Peter refrains from asking what other models he is familiar with.

"But!" the CI exclaims, a bit too loudly, making Diana flinch a bit in surprise. "I think I know how to get it to work. Or, not work in our case."

"Are you sure it won't blow up on us?" Jones is not one to mince his words, but Peter would like to not have that mental image in his head, thank you very much.

"Nope!" Neal's response is entirely too cheerful. "Well, it won't blow up on you guys, but if something happens, just reverse your actions and it should be fine. Alright? Alright!"

Peter is about to ask why Neal wouldn't be able to advise them if 'something happens' and if it has something to do with the way he emphasized the word 'you' in his response, but the conman doesn't give him time to interject.

"So, Diana. Can you find the rotary switch with 'e.in' next to it? It looks like a round dial, with a lot of numbers on the sides."

Evidently, Neal knows about Diana's inner sci-fi geek. Peter smiles at how quintessentially Neal Caffrey it is of him to make sure his friends are happy even when he is in danger.

"Found it, Caffrey. It's pointing at a 20, on the right side of the dial. Goes up to 50, clockwise. The 0 is on top."

"Ok, good. Turn it upwards, anti-clockwise, very slowly, so that it points at the next number under 20."

The dial turns to '19' with a faint clicking sound and no other indication that anything happened. After a moment, the buzzing of the strange green energy in the background recedes a little, but picks up at a faster rate right next to them. The shields glow brighter, and Neal hisses a little in response. Peter clenches his fists and forces himself to take a calming breath.

"Oh shit, ok. Ok, this is fine, fuck, we got this," Neal's quiet swearing does not help to calm him down. Nor does the tenseness in his voice, like he is clenching his teeth tightly to stifle a louder noise.

"Neal!" he barks. "What's wrong?"

"It's fine, don't worry! The fruitloop just changed his freaking labels, can you believe this?" Neal sounds exasperated, but not panicky, so Peter takes that to mean there is no immediate danger. He forces his fists open and takes a breath.

"Ok, Diana, you are going to need to find the other dial switch, with 'e.out' next to it. Tell me when you have it." Neal's voice is back to 'calm and collected' — the same one he uses when he is teaching Peter how to do a particular con for an op. It does wonders to the tension in his shoulders.

"Found it, boss man," Diana quips. Well, at least one of them is having fun. "It's the same as the other one, but the arrow is pointing at a 30."

"That's good actually. Means we are on the right track," there is definitely a smile in Neal's voice now. Peter can't help grinning a little in response. "Now, same thing as before. Turn it down a bit. One notch at first, then wait a moment just in case. There shouldn't be a big difference at this level with this one, but better safe than sorry."

"Got it."

The click sounds much louder now, almost deafening, even though Peter knows it's just his nerves amplifying the sound. He lets out the breath he's been holding in when the intensity of the shields recedes just a little.

"Ok, good," Neal sounds a little tense again, and Peter has to wonder if the energy walls only act as dividers or if there is any effect on the person surrounded by them.

"You don't sound very 'good' to me, man," apparently Jones has picked up on that as well. "Are you sure this is safe for you?"

Neal is quiet for a moment, probably considering the chances that he can bullshit them in this state, and Peter calls out his name, trying to inject as much of a 'we've talked about you taking better care of yourself so be honest here' warning as he can.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he mutters, barely loud enough to be heard. Peter smiles a little smugly. The battle to get Neal to take his health and safety seriously has been going on since they realized that the conman had absolutely zero self-preservation, and this is another victory on their side.

"Okay," he repeats again. "So, this is part of the whole 'big explanation' thing I mentioned, but it basically has to do with the nature of the energy. I am ... somewhat uniquely susceptible to it, which is why it's able to keep me inside so well." Peter's heart clenches at the explanation, and Diana's face looks stricken. Has he been in pain the whole time?

As if sensing their thoughts, Neal hurries to provide more information. "I'm okay, I swear, it's not painful if I don't touch it. Which I am not doing, so stop worrying."

"It's doing something to you, though, isn't it?" Jones doesn't let up. Neal gives an aggrieved sigh that tugs the corners of Peter's mouth up despite the serious nature of the conversation.

"Sometimes I hate how perceptive you guys are," the CI complains. Jones smirks. "It really is fine, I just, the last time I was, uh... I mean, I haven't been in, I haven't really felt it at this volume in a while, so it's a bit intense."

Peter is really starting to hate the sound of Neal stumbling over his words. It sounds sincere, though, so he tentatively trusts the reassurance, especially since they don't have any other choice in this situation. He hates that, too.

"Okay, Neal. We believe you. I just need you to tell us if that changes. Prioritize your health in this, can you do that?"

"Yeah, Peter, I- yeah. I can do that. It's also why we are going slow with the dials. At this point we can probably just turn it all the way down in one go, but that's probably going to actually hurt. I'm not very excited about that, so-o..."

Thank god Neal is actually thinking of his own safety for once. Peter would be tempted to check the outside for flying pigs if the four of them weren't underground.

"Great, that's great. Good job." It's important to reinforce good behavior with praise, right? That's what El has been telling him for years. Neal snickers, so maybe he didn't do that well this time, but Peter is sure he got the point across at least.

"Okay, yeah. Let's get back to getting me out of here. Diana, you can turn the dial again. Same one, same direction. Go a couple of notches down this time." Peter is about to protest, but Neal talks over him. "Yeah, it's not nice, but being in here is also not that fun. It's like ripping off a band-aid, instead of slowly peeling it. In this case I'd prefer a couple of rips instead of a long day of peeling."

"Your metaphors are terrible," Diana mutters, "but you are the expert here, so we have to trust that you know what you are doing. Don't make me regret it." She scowls fiercely.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks"

Diana gives him a warning, and turns the dial down. Neal grunts in response, but quickly collects himself.

"I'm good, I'm good," he reassures them. "It mostly feels a bit like a strong jacuzzi, only a bit more tingly. Diana, you can go again, just like last time."

She dutifully follows his instructions, and Neal doesn't seem to be getting worse, as long as he gets a moment to breathe. As soon as the number of the second dial dips under the number on the first one, he has Diana start alternating between them, always keeping 'e.out' lower than 'e.in'. If Peter understands the explanation correctly, that means that whatever is coming into the system is less than what is allowed to come out, but for some reason the values cannot be too far apart, or the system is at risk of destabilizing. Not destabilizing the system full of unknown energy that can hurt his friend sounds like a great idea, so he keeps quiet and watches the green glow steadily lose its brightness. The buzzing sound recedes as well.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the glow is gone completely, and the dials both pont at 0. The three of them let out sighs of relief. Peter thinks that he can hear a matching one on the other side of the door.

"What now?" he asks Neal, not sure if it's safe yet. "Is it disabled or do we need to do something else?"

Neal shuffles a bit, and there is a sudden tap against the door, where he must be touching it. He yelps and jumps back, as the wall flickers with green for a second.

"Neal!" Peter's shout echoes in two voices next to him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just like a bit of static. But that would be the answer to your question, I guess. Can you go through the buttons again? One of them should be for the autostart or something like that."

If Peter comes out of this without gray hair, he's going to call it a miracle.

Diana finds a button that has 'auto-engage' next to it, and Neal has her press it before they can start overthinking the dangers. Nothing happens.

Peter is about to ask, when the door handle turns, and the door opens to a thin crack. There is very faint green light coming from the inside of the room, but when no one shouts in pain and no wall of green appears, Peter lets himself relax, and goes to pull the door all the way open.

He goes still, however, when he encounters resistance, like someone is holding the door back.

"Neal?" he asks tentatively, unsure what the problem is.

AN: Peter is having a bit of a crisis. Don't worry, it will get worse. Neal is also not having fun. Nobody is having a good time here, but I promise they will get at least one hug. Maybe even two. While they are in shock and don't suspect anything.

#dp x wc #danny phantom x white collar #spooky stories #unnamed dpxwc reveal fic #is that a bird? is that an plane? is that an ... alien?#find out at 5 #phantom thief

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byebyebombay · 8 months

Text

José González - Crosses

"Don't you know that/I'll be around to guide you?/Through your weakest moments/To leave them behind you/Returning nightmares Only shadows/We'll cast some light and you'll be alright/We'll cast some light and you'll be alright/For now/Crosses all over/Heavy on your shoulders/The sirens inside you/Waiting to step forward/Disturbing silence/Darkens your sight/We'll cast some light and you'll be alright/We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now"

#Spotify

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)

another fic, for y'all! more angst and mama Alci!

TW: Rape

-------------------------------------

The man-thing beneath her was shuddering in pain, trying to scramble backward with only one arm, as the other was busy pressing against the gash in his side, trying to stem the heavy bleeding. His expression was a mix between revulsion and terror. As deep as it was, he would live. Maybe.

But he wouldn’t get that chance.

He didn’t beg or scream when his heart was ripped out, which irked his attacker, but it didn’t matter. The creature standing above him was satisfied, having obtained what she had come for. He was lucky she wasn’t either one of her sisters, who would have prolonged his death a lot longer than she had, milking out every last drop of suffering they could before his life force finally faded away into nothingness. She had better things to do than play cat and mouse with some incompetent human. Like returning the heart to her mother.

Bela’s chest warmed with pride as she gazed down at the dripping muscular organ cupped in her hands. It wasn’t often that Mother got to eat the heart of a man, and when she did, it was usually in the context of a raid on the castle, sort of dulling the effect of getting to consume such a treat. But now no damage would be made because Bela had managed to retrieve one all by herself! And Mother would be able to indulge in the warmth and sweet blood and would be so proud of her!

She swelled with delight as she began creeping away from the body, holding the heart delicately. Her sisters never understood why she was always reaching for Mother’s praise, but she couldn’t understand why they didn’t. Didn’t they want to please her? Make her happy? Get all of her praise and love and affection?

Bela’s thoughts were then rudely interrupted by something sharp snapping down around her ankle and yanking her to the ground. She let out a cry of pain, unable to bite it back in the face of so much discomfort. She shifted over and shakily reached out to see what had caught her.

A bear trap. Clamped around her left leg, just above the ankle. Her right hand gripped the limb tightly, slightly over where the metallic teeth bared into her flesh. One sporadic tremor was all it took to send new currents of torture up her leg. And, once again, there was no stifling her tormented scream from ripping out of her throat. Now both hands were clutching at the appendage, trying desperately to lessen the pain. It did little to help.

“Shit,” Bela hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She attempted to pry the jaws of the artificial beast from her leg again, but her arms were shaking too much and the torment that seized her body prevented her from using all her strength; all of it was quickly being stolen away within her. Before she could get the teeth more than an inch away, the slickness of the blood caused it to slip from her grasp and bite right back to where it was originally. Just like that, she was back at square one.

Bela took several shuddering breaths and looked up at the sky. Now she knew why Mother didn’t like her and her sisters hunting alone. There was no one there to help her when she got into situations like this.

What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the level-headed, calm one that didn’t do stupid things! She let her own need for praise blind her and now she was trapped.

There was snapping from within the dark woods around her. Bela’s head whipped up. Footsteps were approaching her- multiple footsteps. She bristled and made herself look as fierce as possible, despite the pain she was in.

A group of human men, around ten, if she counted correctly, broke through the brambles, armed with guns and axes and pitchforks, and stared down at her. A handful of them looked terrified at the sight of her, while the others smirked. Something sadistic was flashing in their eyes. They looked…hungry.

Bela tried to shake herself free from the bear trap when they approached her, but the iron teeth didn’t relent its vicious bite. They swarmed her, grabbing her limbs and holding her down. At first, she thought it was to take aim to kill her precisely, but then she noticed the very distinct bulges in their trousers and felt her chest seize in horror.

“Stop!” she yelled, finding her voice, which was wavering and shaky. “Let me go, you bastards!”

The men merely laughed at her threat. They seemed less scared of her when they had her ensnared as they did.

The leader of the pack, a scruffy man-thing with dark amber eyes, began to make a mess of her chest. His friends were pinning her wrists above her head, leaving her helpless to his assault. Slimy trails of saliva were left across her breasts; she cringed.

“Stop!”

When hands began to quest beneath her dress, she spasmed, fighting with all her strength. She managed to get an arm free and slashed her claws at one of the men beside her, ripping open dark red furrows along his skin.

“You bitch!” he shrieked, grasping at the gashes across his forearm. Blood seeped through his brown tunic. He looked fearfully at his friends. “What do I do?”

“Clean it,” one of them said.

“Will that be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

The man Bela had wounded shifted, looking anxious. “What if I turn into one of them?”

“That’s not how that works, dumbass,” piped up another man.

While they were distracted by each other, Bela squirmed harder. She tried to summon her insects, but her head was smashed against what she thought was a jagged rock; she swore she could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking upon impact. She slumped to the dirt, groaning. Her vision cut out for a moment, and when it returned, she thought she was being surrounded by rabid wolves.

“Creature, look at me while I touch you. That’s just common decency, don’t you think?“

Bela shut her eyes and refused to open them back up. She didn’t want to look. The man straddling her pulled her hair.

“Don’t be rude.”

She could feel more tears coming- how long had she been crying? She shook her head, jerking her limbs, but they were snagged tightly.

“N-No--”

The man-beasts around her cackled.

“Would you look at that,” one of them said. “The monster is cowering.”

“Not much of a terror now is she?” said another, tittering.

“She isn’t so strong once you have her caught,” added a third.

“God, she’s hot. Can we just start already? I want my turn.” a fourth joined in.

Bela whimpered. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was terrified. Her voice was cracking and she sounded snotty. She wanted this to stop right now. She tried to ease away, but they were firmly holding her in place. She kept muttering “no” over and over again, trying to drown out their voices.

The scruffy man leaned over her more, restraining her with his body weight.

“I said,” white-hot pain seared through Bela’s groin, causing her to howl, “look at me while I touch you, creature.”

She was dry, and the friction between her legs burned so intensely that it made her see stars. Within moments of only a few thrusts, she already felt raw. The stinging only increased.

All at once, she felt everything: the pain in between her legs, the dirty fingernails raking down her sides, the hands that raised up to fondle her breasts, the teeth on her neck, the tongue in her mouth, the bear trap around her ankle, the blazing heat that bloomed within her stomach… Then, she felt nothing at all.

--- --- ---

Bela lost track of time rather easily. It all started to blur together, but all she knew was that they tortured her in the woods for hours. Their lust was never-ending, their hunger was insatiable. She felt cowed by their heat, unable to fight back, falling victim to their needy claws.

She wondered why they didn’t kill her. She wished they did. She wanted the pain to go away.

Now, she lay on the damp dirt, naked, barely awake, and struggling to breathe. Her bare stomach was splattered with semen and marred by scratches. Her head was pounding intensely. Her throat felt red and raw. Her eyes were stinging and still leaking tears.

Had anyone noticed she was gone? Was Mother or her sisters worried about her? Were they looking for her?

Did they care?

Bela pushed herself up slowly; the pain was unbearable. It was a constant, aching thing in her stomach that never seemed to relent its throbbing assault. Hot coals were shoveled into each part of her body when she tried to move again, stoking the raging fires burning inside of her. Her muscles crackled painfully from the strain of getting up but were quickly overcome by a brighter, even sharp sensation in her left leg.

Right. She was still caught in the bear trap.

If this situation couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Bela struggled with the iron jaws for several eternal moments, sobbing harder each time her attempts failed. She eventually managed to pry the teeth loose and yank her ankle free, falling backward into the dirt and leaves and sending little lightning bolts alight throughout her entire body. She wept.

Eventually, awareness returned to her and she realized she had to get home. She had to get out of this forest. She had to get away.

She cleaned off her belly and legs and tried to do the same for her vagina, but it seized up the moment her hands got near, so she left it be. She put on her dress, which was in tatters and reeked of sex, but it was better than wearing nothing at all. The blood congealing between her thighs squelched uncomfortably when she began walking back to the castle, limping heavily on her injured ankle as she went. It bubbled and smeared and stuck on her skin, sometimes running down the length of her legs, but she couldn’t bother to wipe it away. She just wanted her mother.

It took a lot longer than it should have to get back to the castle, and when she did finally make it, she couldn’t go any further. Her knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet her. She curled up into a fetal position, shaking all over, weeping again. She didn’t know how her body managed to still produce tears after crying so much, but there was wetness in her eyes and running down her cheeks. She trembled.

“Mother…”

Her voice came out weak and brittle. Frail.

“Mother…”

Maybe if she hadn’t been in so much agony, she would have cared more about being seen in such a state. But she didn’t care about anything. Not anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her mother’s arms and never leave.

“Mother…”

The tears were coming down faster. Would anyone come for her? Did her mother care? Or was she to be left like this? She knew she probably looked like a sorry excuse for a beast, a waste of an experiment, better to be killed off so nobody would have to suffer her insolence, but she didn’t think Mother would be the one to turn her back on her. She whimpered.

“Mama!”

She should have known. She had it coming, didn’t she? Despite being the oldest, she was always the last in everything when it came to being a bloodthirsty beast. Didn’t hunt very well because she felt bad for the animals, was willing to submit to her younger sisters because she didn’t always know how to command situations, preferred to spend her time reading instead of participating in bloodsports, tried to avoid conflict because she didn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty, couldn’t even defend herself from human men…

It all made so much sense now.

She didn’t deserve to see Mother.

Footsteps were coming from one of the hallways. Someone was emerging into the light of the foyer. Bela, with her eyes bleary and mind hazed, couldn’t help but think it was one of the men returning for a second round. She tried to crawl away, whimpering.

Hands seized her and she screamed.

“No! NO!”

But it was too late. Too late.

--- --- ---

Alcina was first alerted by the smell before she even heard the mewls. The rank, disgusting stench of man semen entered her castle, so strong she was able to catch it from down in the basement, where every scent was usually overpowered by blood. But the pungent odor of filthy sperm managed to reach her like a wriggling maggot, and she instantly thought one of the maids had grown some courage and snuck a consort into her palace. She didn’t even think to consider what it actually had been because she never thought that such a thing would happen to one of her girls. It wasn’t something any mother should have to fear happening to their daughters.

Mounting the staircase, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle at the foolishness of her maids. Did they truly think they could get something like this past her? Did they think they were being sneaky? She could smell their lust from a mile away.

However, as she exited out into the hallway, something new tickled her nose. The scent of semen was now mingled with blood and sweat and the faint smell of dirt. But there was something else, too. A noise. A word.

“Mother…”

Alcina perked up. Despite the faintness, she could easily pick out the voice of her eldest daughter.

“Bela?” she called back to her child.

For a moment, there was no response. At first, that wasn’t very concerning; Bela had always been the quiet type, always taking the time to consider her words instead of blurting the first thing that came to her mind like her younger sisters did. But with the intrusive smell wafting down the halls and the hoarseness she spoke with, Alcina couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

“Mother…”

“Bela,” Alcina said. She searched for buzzing beetles or flies, but couldn’t hear or see any. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had even seen her eldest daughter.

That, too, wasn’t very concerning, either. Bela had a tendency to tuck herself away in various rooms for hours, indulging herself in books and studies, always fascinated to know more about absolutely everything. Sometimes, it was the library. Other times, one of the parlors. But sometimes it could be a random maid closet that nobody would ever think to sit and read in or a hidden room behind one of the many tapestries that made searching for her an elaborate scavenger hunt of trying to remember which weaving had already been checked or a specific corner in a specific room that nobody really went into anymore because there was nothing important inside. Alcina vividly remembered the time she nearly tore the castle apart searching for her eldest child because she couldn’t find her anywhere and she wasn’t answering her when she called. It turned out that Bela, younger at the time, was in a small back room Alcina had completely forgotten existed, playing midwife with a laboring opossum and trying to feed the mother her beetles. Bela had turned to her, bright-eyed, and said, “Possum.” She then proceeded to give her an elaborate, in-depth explanation on the process of birth, radiating pride the entire time, completely oblivious to Alcina’s panic.

It then became a rule to never kill opossums for Bela’s sake. And they were, admittedly, a little cute.

However, like with the hoarseness Bela spoke in, something was off. Very off.

The blood mingling with the scent of sperm- that was her daughter’s blood.

“Mother…”

Alcina sprung into motion.

“Bela!” she called. She kept the panic from oozing into her voice, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but her hurried stride was enough to convey her alarm. “Where are you, my sweet? Come to Mother.”

She stopped to listen for the buzzing of insect wings or even just footsteps on polished tile, but there were neither. There was, however, a very distinct cry that made her veins fill with black ice.

“Mama!”

Alcina charged down the hallway, adrenaline pumping madly through her entire body. A pair of quietly conversing maids saw her coming and jumped out of the way, pressing close to the walls. They should thank their lucky stars for their quick reflexes because she would have flayed them if they had gotten in her way.

“Bela!” She was shouting, now. “Where are you? Bela!”

She didn’t stop to listen this time, but she did strain her ears. There were no noises in response, not even an utter. She picked up her pace.

Alcina broke out into the grand foyer and three things slammed into her at once: first, the overwhelming stench of semen that was so thick and heavy she could almost taste it when she breathed through her mouth; second, the chill seeping in through the half-open front door; and third, the crumpled form of her eldest daughter curled up on the floor, shaking all over.

“Bela!”

Alcina rushed over to Bela’s side, noticing the way she tried to crawl away with bruised limbs. However, it wasn’t until she set her hands on her child’s shoulder that Bela let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“No! NO!”

Alcina snapped her hands away as though she had touched fire. Words could not begin to explain how awful it was to be a mother and be stared at with so much horror by her baby. Bela looked downright terrified of her--and then she noticed a sort of glaze in her eyes, as though she were peering out from a dirty window. She didn’t seem to be seeing Alcina as her mother, but as someone or something that struck great fear inside of her.

“Bela,” Alcina spoke softly. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

Bela shook her head and tried to shield her face with her arms, all while weeping, “No more, no more…”

Anger sparked deep within Alcina. Who could have possibly scarred her baby so badly that she didn’t even recognize her own mother?

Taming her rage so she wouldn’t scare Bela, Alcina reached out and lightly brushed Bela’s shoulder again, making her flinch and whimper sharply. The black dress she was wearing was in tatters, barely clinging to her frame, and the skin that laid underneath was grimy and scraped. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wolf and lost, but Alcina could tell this was much, much worse than anything a mangy hound could do.

“Bela,” Alcina said again. “My darling. It’s only me. Your mother. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

Bela peeked out of her arms reluctantly, and the eye that peered up at Alcina was clouded with tears. She blinked several times, as though she were trying to dispel a dense fog shrouding her vision, and then recollection seemed to dawn on her.

“Mama?” Bela croaked, her voice hoarse and weak. Her breathing, once shallow and wheezy, began to thicken, becoming heavier and more ragged as the seconds ticked by. The incessant shivering that infected her frame worsened until Alcina thought her eyeballs may just rattle right out of her skull. She whimpered.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.”

“Mama,” Bela said again. A fresh hurricane of tears stormed her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Mama!”

Bela collapsed into Alcina’s arms, sobbing. Instantly, the stench of semen increased tenfold, plugging Alcina’s nostrils and tickling her tongue. She fought the urge to gag. How anyone could thirst for such a poison was unknown to her, but there wasn’t time to meddle in human mating preferences. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the girl shaking and bleating like a baby lamb against her stomach.

Alcina pulled Bela closer to her, not caring about the odor anymore. She looked over her daughter, finding more scratches and rips in her dress, but also a large red patch on the back of her head, where the blonde hair was turned scarlet with blood. There was also a nasty ring around her left ankle that looked like it had been created by some kind of beast, leaking crimson and clear serous fluid. Protectiveness flared inside of her like fire.

“What happened?” Alcina asked, unable to keep the growl out of her voice. “Who did this to you?”

Bela flinched away. Her weeping turned to words and what came out was babbled nonsense: “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry--”

“Hush, my sweet,” Alcina said, but Bela was too worked up to listen to her right now.

“No, no--” Bela shook her head, wincing as she did so. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault! I’m s-sorry!”

Alcina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Bela sniffled. Alcina wondered if she could smell the stink on her, too.

“I-- I went out hunting. Alone. Even though you forbid it.” Her daughter hung her head shamefully, letting Alcina glimpse the wound on the back of her skull again. “I wanted-- I wanted to get you something. A gift. And I had one, too! The heart of a man! But then-- but then I got caught in a hunter’s trap and-- and--” She dissolved into tears once again.

Alcina frowned. She always knew her eldest child’s hopeless devotion to her would get her into trouble. As much as she loved how Bela looked up to her, even she had to admit that it was rather worrying. Bela seemed to function solely on praise, always scratching for any ounce of approval, wanting only to please Alcina, even if it meant throwing her own needs out the window. Alcina remembered how she once briefly mentioned how nice it would be to hear her favorite song on piano and Bela interpreted that as a request, so she taught herself how to play the entire melody over the span of three days. As beautiful as the performance had been, Bela hadn’t slept or eaten or drank anything in that time, taking away her own basic needs until she finished her “task.” She never thought about herself and her body made her pay the price for it when she blacked out instantly after playing. Now history was repeating itself all over again--but, this time, it wasn’t her own immune system that exacted a fiery punishment upon her. That much was clear from Bela’s terror.

“Bela,” Alcina said. “Who hurt you? What did they do to you?”

Bela’s shoulder shook violently with the weight of her sobs. She didn’t look up at Alcina, much too ashamed of herself. Alcina could tell that much. Her daughter was practically radiating chagrin as much as she radiated emission.

“You can tell me, darling,” Alcina urged, softening her tone. “I won’t be mad at you.”

Bela peeked up at her nervously. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny with sweat and tears. “You-- you won’t?”

“I won’t,” Alcina assured her. “I promise. I would never get mad at you.”

Bela hesitated. She appeared to be trying to calm herself down, but it all fell apart when she shifted and seemed to be struck with great pain because she let out a heart-wrenching cry and curled up in Alcina’s arms, grasping at her dress with desperate claws. When she attempted to speak, Alcina could only make out snippets in between ragged gasps and distressed whimpers and heavy sobs.

“They-- men-- came at me-- too many-- couldn’t fight-- tried-- held me down-- touched me-- so scared-- hurts-- Mama-- Mama, it hurts!”

Alcina understood.

Alcina understood and she saw red.

An animalistic snarl that could frighten wolves bubbled from her throat and she bared her sharp teeth at the front door that was still slightly ajar, letting frigid, late-autumn air creep inside like an unwanted guest. She clenched Bela tighter against her, her claws beginning to grow in and hook into her daughter protectively, not quite realizing how much strength she was using until Bela squealed in pain. Instantly, her grip loosened, her talons retracted, her teeth tucked away back behind her lips, and she jerked her head to the side, yelling for a maid. One came rather quickly, and she had the sneaking suspicion that they were being spied on, but it didn’t matter. It was beneath her at the moment. Far beneath her.

“Run a hot bath in my room,” Alcina ordered. She tucked Bela in close to her stomach, trying to hide her ruined form from prying eyes. Nobody deserved to see the girl in such a state, certainly not a lowly maid.

The maid, a lanky, ash brown-haired young woman, nodded hastily, not even sparing Bela a glance, which Alcina appreciated. This one would be spared for a while.

A noise alerted Alcina, and she looked down to see that Bela was prattling on nonsensically, her watery words half-muffled by her dress.

“I’m so sorry-- didn’t mean it-- all my fault-- shouldn’t have gone-- should have known better-- don’t deserve this--”

The last comment in particular caught Alcina like a fishhook. She squeezed Bela tightly.

“Do not say that,” she said firmly. “You deserve my care. You are very unwell, Bela.”

Bela shook her head, whimpering. “It’s my fault it happened. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have-- I shouldn’t--” Her breathing picked up.

“Bela, my sweet girl, take a breath,” Alcina said. “It’s alright. You need to breathe.”

Bela just shook her head again and buried her face back into Alcina’s stomach, not offering anymore words. She didn’t seem to be up to talking further. Alcina rubbed up and down her back to comfort her as they waited for the maid to return.

Alcina wasn’t sure how long she was crouched on the floor, breathing in the fumes of ejaculate, but the maid eventually came back, notifying her that the bath was ready. She sent her away before scooping Bela up into her arms, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her daughter. Bela buried her face against her neck, shuddering, and Alcina felt hot tears slither down over her collarbone. Alcina cooed to Bela to calm her down as she carried her to her bedroom.

Inside the bathroom, Alcina carefully removed Bela’s dress. Every movement seemed to hurt her daughter, so she worked gently, not wanting to worsen her discomfort. Once the gown was off, she threw the tattered fabric into the far corner. It would need to be burned.

Now that Bela wasn’t wearing anything, Alcina could see the full extent of her wounds. Angry red scratch marks were scored up and down her back, sides, and stomach like some kind of sick point system, some crusted on the edges with blood and discharge, others flaked with mud and dirt. Purple bite marks were scattered on her neck and breasts, as though the men who had attacked her were the blood-sucking beasts and she was the cattle. Her thin wrists were swollen in the distinct maroon shape of fingerprints and her thighs were splattered in bruises and smeared with red--among other sick-smelling fluids.

The sight made Alcina absolutely enraged, but she stamped down her fury for the sake of her daughter. As much as she wanted to go find the monsters who did this, Bela needed her. She couldn’t just leave her.

“Alright, my darling,” Alcina said. “Let’s get you washed off.”

Bela didn’t fight her when Alcina lifted her up and set her into the hot water. In fact, she didn’t seem to be all too there anymore, too lost in her own shock and pain. She just stared numbly at the wall with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes as Alcina washed her shoulders and back and hair. Even cleaning the wound on the back of her head didn’t wake her up, despite the way she flinched in reaction to the pain.

“Bela.” Alcina gave Bela’s cheek a light pat. “My darling. Look at me.”

Bela blinked and her eyes focused on her. Alcina smiled softly at her.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Alcina cooed.

“Mama,” Bela rasped. Her head lolled back, resting against the wall the bathtub was situated against. “Hurts…”

Alcina frowned. She had a few draughts to relieve pain, but she didn’t trust the maids to get the right kind of medicine for her daughters. Not anymore. Not since Cassandra had asked for an elixir that would soothe some tooth pain she was having and a maid swapped it out for poison with the intent of killing her. Alcina had found her precious child seizing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, drowning in her own blood and froth. She vividly remembered watching Bela reach in with her fingers and scoop out the fluids from Cassandra’s mouth to keep her sister from choking further. If it weren’t for Bela’s quick thinking and excessive knowledge on poisons from spending so much time researching everything, Alcina may have lost a child that day. The maid, of course, was punished severely. When she was done with her, she wasn’t even recognizable. That being said, she would have to go and retrieve the brew herself.

Of course, there were her other two children, but she trusted them as much as she trusted the maids. Ever since Daniela and Cassandra had peer pressured Bela into drinking a random mixture they found--something about her needing to be more headstrong and stop letting them walk all over her--and Bela ended up being incredibly dizzy and unwell for several hours because that particular tonic had the strength to knock out a horse, she didn’t have the most faith that her younger daughters would grab the right bottle, whether it be intentional or not.

So that left her. Looking over Bela’s state, she knew the girl wouldn’t be happy if she went away for even a minute, but she didn’t have a choice. She would have to risk upsetting her daughter so she could relieve her of her pain.

But first, however, she needed Bela to feed, to regain at least some of her strength and consciousness.

Alcina tore open her wrist with her teeth and then pressed it to Bela’s lips. Bela instantly flinched back, her eyes popping open wide.

“It’s just me, darling,” Alcina murmured. “Just me. You’re okay.”

Bela blinked at her hazily, then looked at her bleeding wrist. Tentatively, she began to feed from it, sucking nervously from Alcina’s veins.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed.

Despite the praise, however, Bela pulled back after only a few seconds, a look of sickness on her face. When Alcina urged her to feed more, she shook her head and shrunk away with a whimper, snaking her arms around her stomach.

“Alright,” Alcina said. “I’m going to leave for just a moment, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Bela’s head jerked up. She shook it furiously.

“I’m going to go get something that will help with the pain,” Alcina told her, caressing her cheek. “Just stay calm for me. I won’t be long.”

Bela whimpered and fretted like a baby animal as Alcina left the bathroom, but she forced herself to keep from rushing back to her side. She retrieved two different draughts, both in dark vials, and returned quickly, just as she had promised. However, she seemed to be gone long enough for something else to happen because when she walked back inside the bathroom, the bathtub was empty, the floor had turned into the equivalent of a small lake, and Bela was on her hands and knees in front of the toilet, throwing up.

“My baby!”

Alcina nearly slipped in the water on the ground as she rushed to her daughter’s side. It seemed Bela had scrambled out of the bathtub in a hurry. Her dress became damp as she knelt down, but she could hardly care. She swept Bela’s hair out of the way and rubbed her back as she retched.

“Mama,” Bela moaned once she finished. She looked up at Alcina, a thin line of bile dribbling down the side of her mouth, her eyes bright with tears. “It hurts…”

“I know, darling,” Alcina stroked her cheek. “It’ll be okay soon. I have something for you that may help.”

She showed Bela the vials. Usually, Bela would start guessing what they were, always eager to show off her knowledge on these kinds of things, but she didn’t seem to care about what they were. She just seemed exhausted, hollow, drained. Empty.

Alcina was going to kill the animals that did this to her baby.

Alcina uncapped the first vial. It smelled strongly of herbs. She pressed it to Bela’s lips, and Bela sipped obediently.

“This will help with the pain,” she informed. “And this,” she opened the second vial, this one smelling faintly of alcohol. “This will purge any disgusting parasites those beasts put in you. Drink, my sweet. Rid your body of their toxins.”

Bela obeyed again, drinking it all. If she didn’t like the taste, she didn’t show it aside from a twitch of her nose.

“Now,” Alcina set both vials aside. “Do you think you can try feeding for me again?”

Bela nodded. Alcina gave her a warm smile, then pricked the same wound on her wrist and held it out to Bela. Bela latched on and began drinking her blood, this time not pulling away.

“That’s my good girl,” Alcina cooed, stroking Bela’s head with her other hand. She knew her blood would soothe Bela’s abused throat, even if it hurt to swallow. The warmth was good for her regardless. Wash away the taste. Force down whatever stickiness was still latched against her esophagus.

She wouldn’t be able to tame her anger for much longer.

When Bela finished drinking, Alcina had her wash down in the bath one more time before drying and dressing her. Her ankle still seemed to be an issue, swelling up and inflaming red, so she flushed it out with alcohol. It earned her claw marks in her shoulders when Bela clung to her and cried in reaction to the burn, but it was worth it if it meant warding off any infection.

Alcina carried Bela to the bed, already knowing she wouldn’t want to be alone. It took a moment for Bela to get comfortable, twisting and turning when both her stomach and back proved to cause her pain, before finally settling on her side, curled up tightly against Alcina’s warmth. Alcina kept her arms around her, soothing her when she got restless until, finally, she relaxed.

Or, as relaxed as someone who just got raped could be.

The thought made Alcina so angry. So fucking angry. Of all her daughters, why Bela? She would hate for this to happen to any of them, but Bela had never done anything wrong. She didn’t have the same sadism as her younger sisters. She was merciful. Even if that made her a faulty beast, she deserved this least of all.

Alcina knew Bela probably wouldn’t sleep very much, and she knew that was to be expected. She was prepared for it. She knew how this worked.

But still. Revenge couldn’t go unserved.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

--- --- ---

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

Bela’s head snapped up. “No, Mama, no--”

Mother frowned down at her. She caressed her cheek, and Bela couldn’t help but press into her hand hungrily. She craved her mother’s touch in a way she couldn’t explain. She wanted it forever and always. She desired it as much as she desired her praise. But right now, even it couldn’t dispel the building panic mounting within her.

“Please, Mama, I don’t want them to-- they can’t-- please--”

But it was too late.

The sound of buzzing stormed into the room, and Bela hid her face against her mother’s dress. She couldn’t let her sisters see her like this.

Cassandra came in first, materializing out of a swarm of beetles and roaches, then Daniela, who took shape from a seething of blowflies and gnats. Even without looking up, Bela could feel their eyes bearing into her. She tried to hide beneath the blankets, but was unwilling to separate herself from her mother’s warmth. She wished it could just be the two of them, as much as she loved her sisters.

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked.

“I need you to watch your sister,” Mother answered. “She is unwell.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the oldest not need any care?”

Daniela nudged her, tittering. “This is Bela we’re talking about, Cassie. You know how she is. I’m still convinced I was actually the oldest, but Mother just says that Bela is the oldest to help build her confidence.”

“Please. We all know I would be the oldest.”

“Okay, okay, let’s compromise: we’d both be the better oldest sister.”

“That’s fair.”

Bela flinched at their teasing, just barely managing to bite back a whimper. She knew their taunting was always in good fun--most of the time, at least; Daniela sometimes blurred the lines between playful and hurtful--but she still let everything they said get under her skin, as though their insects were burrowing into her.

“Quiet, you two,” Mother scolded lightly. “Bela isn’t well. I’d feel better if she had someone watching over her while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Cassandra asked.

And Daniela, always quick to crack a joke, added, “Damn, Bel, are you that terrible of company?”

Bela whimpered into the folds of Mother’s dress. All it took was one stern glare from Mother to shut Daniela up.

“I’m going to deal with some business,” Mother said, and the venom used in the word ‘business’ suggested she had some terribly bloody plans in store for the men who had assaulted Bela. Bela almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But not enough.

“Can you both do this for me?”

Cassandra and Daniela nodded.

“Thank you, my doves,” Mother said. She then looked down at Bela, stroking the side of her head. “I won’t be long, darling. Your sisters will take care of you. Nothing will happen.”

Bela just barely peeked up at her. She didn’t want Cassandra and Daniela to see her with her face all blotchy and red. She would never hear the end of it if they did.

She gripped tighter to Mother’s dress, burying her face back into the soft fabric. “Please don’t go, Mama,” she begged softly, hoping that her sisters couldn’t hear her quavering.

Mother caressed the side of her head. “I must, sweetheart. I can’t let them get away with what they did to you. I won’t stand for it.”

“But you’re sitting down,” Daniela put in helpfully, and Cassandra snorted into her hand. They both shut up when Mother gave them a sharp look, but Bela didn’t miss the small, fond smile that twitched on Mother’s lips.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Mother said.

A kiss was pressed to the top of Bela’s head, and she realized this wasn’t a fight she would be able to win. Her claws were gently pried loose from the dress and the warmth she had been desperately clinging to disappeared, replaced by a chill that infected her heart like talons of ice.

“Play nice,” Mother said to Cassandra and Daniela before whisking out of the room in a hurry, her claws already brandished.

For a moment, silence was left behind. Then, a body bounced onto the bed next to Bela, and Bela flinched away. She curled up in the blankets, burying her face in the softness as Daniela got uncomfortably close.

“So…” Daniela started, practically speaking in Bela’s ear. “What happened? You seem pretty messed up.”

Bela didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice to not waver if she did. She couldn’t handle any more humiliation.

“I think she got her tongue cut out,” Daniela said to Cassandra.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “We literally just heard her talking. Explain that.”

“It fell off?”

Cassandra coughed to hide a laugh. She then poked Bela in the side, causing Bela to whimper in pain when a particularly sore area ached in response.

“Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you?”

Bela didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much to unpack in such a short amount of time. Their naked bodies, their disheveled hair, their sweaty penises inside her. Those animals pinning her down, licking her, forcing themselves into her, smashing their mouths against hers, clawing and grasping and groping. Their heavy breaths in her ears, the purrs about her being “so pretty for a monster,” the laughter when she tried to escape. Her own voice, ringing hollow in her mouth, and her blood, smeared all over.

She couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle it.

Another whimper bubbled forth. Bela began to cry into the blankets, unable to keep her emotions at bay. It was all too much for her.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed, and Bela couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing or genuine. “Poor thing.”

Her head was then cradled against Daniela’s chest, wrapped in both of her sister’s arms. Daniela stroked her hair with her claws, trying to be comforting, but the effect was sort of negated when her talons repeatedly brushed over the sensitive welt on the back of Bela’s head. Still, Bela appreciated the gesture, even if she was continuously wincing and growing nauseous with pain.

“Well, whatever it was,” Cassandra said. “Mother is dealing with it.”

“I hope she brings something back,” Daniela said wistfully.

Bela really hoped she didn’t. She didn’t want to see a single piece of those men, even if they were mangled and bloodied.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Bela tried to imagine that Daniela was her mother. She wanted Mother back already, and it was that clinginess that made her feel pathetic and weak. Weaker and more pathetic than she already knew she was.

Yes, it was always Bela who would rather read books than participate in torture. Bela, who was the reason they couldn’t feast on opossums. Bela, who was a poor fighter and hunter because she spent all her time learning new information or sewing instead of learning how to defend herself. Bela, who was overly polite to the maids and sometimes made friends with them. Bela, who needed her mommy’s approval to feel good about anything she did because her self-worth and self-confidence were that far into the ground. Bela, who should have been born as anyone else and could never live up to her own standards.

The tears came faster. Bela’s shoulders began to shake as she cried. She wanted Mother back. She didn’t care how pathetic that made her. She needed her mom.

“Mama,” Bela sobbed, momentarily forgetting that she wasn’t alone, but she didn’t even register the embarrassment at the moment. She was too overwhelmed with her own pitiful separation anxiety and uselessness.

“It’s okay, Bel,” Daniela said, scratching her head as though she were a hound. “Mother will be back soon!”

‘Soon’ ended up being an hour and a half, and by then, Bela was sure she had chased their mother away with her burden.

But then, the bedroom door slammed open and there was Mother, as clean as she was when she had left. However, she was wearing a different dress and there was a visible loss of tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Daniela shook Bela. “Bel, look! She’s back!”

Bela’s head snapped up. Mother gave her a loving smile.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mama,” Bela reached for her mother, not caring how childish it made her, and Mother obliged to her beckoning, sweeping over and bundling her into her warm arms. Bela curled up immediately, relaxing considerably.

“I told you I would be back,” Mother said, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

Bela couldn’t reply. She just nuzzled in closer. She felt her sisters press into either side of Mother, but she didn’t mind. She was just happy to be secure, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Before those men were inside of her, she was inside of herself. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t be leaving for awhile, even now that they were dead, but she could cope with it, as long as her mother was there to hold her together.

She just wished she had grabbed the heart.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)#tw: rape

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janshu · 3 years

Text

In The Shallows...Part One.

Summary: @hanji-is-life more merman!Bakugo and so I shall provide! I was hoping to get this out much earlier, back in may because MerMay but better late than never I suppose! You, a marine biologist, take a scuba dive to see the local fauna off coast and you find more than you ever could've bargained for...

Word Count: 1.5.

Warnings: None but minor curses, mentions of the ocean, an illusion of drowning. Viewer discretion is advised at least.

How did you manage this?

You hadn't walked on the beach, much less roll around in the coarse substance. So how did it manage to get into your pockets? This was a new jacket so how?

A short walk from the parking garage to the pier was all it was, no beach travel involved yet it had wormed its way into your pockets, in between your toes and nearly everywhere else.

Your team chuckles at your discomfort finding your squirming the funniest thing on the planet as they loaded up the sizable vessel for the day on the water. For the past several weeks you had been cooped up in a lab studying the samples others brought to you but now you were given the green light to head out into the field yourself. Your goal for the day was to gather samples, check on the status of the coral nursery, and a checklist of other menial tasks. A full plate all things considered, much better than getting a migraine staring through a microscope at sea water until you either give up or get sent home.

Waves battered against the hull of the boat while you and your fellow colleagues suit up in scuba gear. The goal wasn't to go to the bottom of the ocean, far from it, fifteen meters was the maximum for today so simple snorkeling hear wouldn't cut it. You didn't get your diving certifications to be stuck in a lab. The salt spray refreshing against your skin for the few seconds it was vulnerable while you changed from your outfit into the designated wetsuit. Not the full suit that covered your body from head-to-toe, just a body one to keep your core warm when your swimsuit didn't offer much protection.

The boat came to a stop right around where the GPS locator dinged where the nursery site was and the captain gave everyone a thumbs up as you and your fellows attached their fins, tanks, SPG's and all the other necessary equipment. One-by-one each of them held their regulators to their mouths and fell back into the blue ocean below until it was your own, to which you received a wink instead while everything turned upside down.

Ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred. Regardless of how many dives you've had you'll never get over the beauty of the reefs. Each time serving something new, change was ever present in your line of work. Never seeing the same specimens twice to witnessing a rare species and everything in between. The sunshine overhead casting glittering ripples on the sandy floor, catching your eye on the schools of fish that swam by as their scales gleamed in different patterns. This was the closest feeling you had ever come to your childhood dream of becoming a mermaid. When you wished on your birthday candles and shooting stars to holding your breath underneath tub water in hopes gills would magically appear. That's what started this career. Maybe it was a long forgotten portion of your evolved brain from life's time in the ocean but you felt at home, a familiar sense of belonging that you didn't have on dry land. This was where you were meant to be but sadly your wishes had never come true and you were cursed to remain a land-dwelling mammal.

The beeping in your ears ripped you from your fantastical daydreams to remind you of the harsh reality. This is as close as you were going to get but that wasn't so bad, it was better having a little than nothing at all. Looking at the gauge meter it showed that you have roughly an hour left of oxygen which meant you had been in the water for an hour already. How time flies when you're having fun, absorbed in your daydreams, and checking on coral and taking samples.

"Hey, could we switch our tanks out without getting oxygen narcosis or are we screwed in that department?" Your voice came over the radio built in the full face masks everyone in the diving team used no doubt scaring those who were lost in thought as you just were.

"Y/N...do you really want to stay out here longer? Shitting Christ, you should be glad you're out here in the first place!" The captain's voice responded from the safety of the boat. "Now get your asses back up here n' we'll head on ba-...what was that?"

"What was what?"

A chorus of responses chimed in immediately after, some crackling from the distance they were from the source and others sounding as if they were a foot away.

"Nothing, never mind, must've been a Manta Ray. Forget about it. Just get your shit and come back, I'm gettin' hungry and its close to lunchtime so hurry up." The static cut off as he put down the radio and looked out into the churning ocean. The massive shadow he had just seen passing by the boat putting him on alert, he didn't want to witness any reef shark's feeding frenzy.

"We can come back tomorrow, Y/N. Nothing's stopping us from that, right?" Another voice, one of your favorite colleagues suggested. That was right, you were there and your boss hadn't explicitly said that this was a one time thing. Another visit would do some good to see if the biometrics have changed in a span of twenty-four hours.

"Alright, okay, we'll come back later for a differential test."

The group had a collective sigh of relief. You were notorious for loving the ocean to such a degree you'd do anything to stay in a while longer, they were all content with leaving now and coming back later if it meant they wouldn't see your sad pouting all the way back to the van. Picking up their equipment and vials everyone began swimming back to the boat now most of them making small talk and discussing their plans for the weekend while you were once again lost in your thoughts.

Something impossibly dark darted through your vision. Blocking out the beautiful view of the turquoise water and colorful life like an angry, ominous storm cloud. A blanket of blindness shrouding all light for a moment but it felt like an eternity as dread sunk in the pit of your stomach, anchoring you to the spot. The warm water now felt cold, goosebumps running up your bare arms and thighs like pinpricks. The heart that had been so calm in the home of your ribcage now pushing adrenaline through your bloodstream, adjusting to a state you weren't acting on. Fear. That wasn't a Manta Ray or a comically large Stingray that was something else entirely. A predator that crashed against the fragile cage of safety, security and believing you were untouchable in shallow depths.

You were reminded of the psychologically scarring and irrational fear of one's ankles being grabbed particularly in the ocean by a shark, the part of your lizard brain firing signals all across your synapses to detach the leg. If only. A fair trade, being left alone at the price of a limb but unfortunately humans couldn't detach or regrow whatever they lost.

That fear was horrifically evoked when something far more firm than a limp leaf of seaweed wrapped around your ankle. Slimey, cold as death and tipped with five sharp points. Reminiscent of a hand, a very large hand. Expanding across your bare skin like a calloused cuff that threatened to break the skin, sink into the meat and tear your foot off entirely. However, that didn't seem to be happening. No cloud of your own blood instead the safety of the boat got further and further away, turning into a speck barely seen in the shallow water.

"Wait, wait no! What the fuck?! Let go! What the hell?" When your brain managed to get over its fear and shock of the situation your fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear and your body began to thrash around against the hold. If it was a shark hitting it in the snout and eyes was imperative to get it to release but what if it wasn't? What else could possibly have your leg in its grip with a goal of pulling you away from the boat?

A flurry of indistinguishable voices and noises came over the radio. From yelps, screams and to curses but the thudding in your ears and the furious splashes drowned them all out, everything became topsy turvy, what was the bottom of the ocean and what was the surface became an abstract concept. The primal urge to escape was ripped away when the respirator giving you oxygen was unceremoniously and harshly ripped from your mouth, the hand that had done it orange and black. The water was salty, like you had dumped an entire container of table salt into your mouth and you washed it down with a sip of water. It was invasive, slipping down your throat into your lungs as they tried to gulp air instead. The more you inhaled the harder it was to move. Your limbs becoming as heavy as cement bricks. Unconsciousness began to consume everything, your body down to your mind. The eerie sensation of falling was the last thing before everything faded to black...

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mer!au #merman!au #merman!bakugo #tw:discretion is advised #tw:fear #tw:ocean #tw:water #tw:scary situation

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arminbitchlover · 3 years

Text

reincarnated lovers (2)

armin arlert x f! reader

summary: after a terrible first date with armin, sasha convices reader to go out to a party but only to have an unexpected turn of events

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: mentions of drug use, alcohol use, assault is insinuated but doesn't actually happen

"YOU LOOK SOOO GOOD," Sasha squeals as you show her your outfit, making your confidence boost significantly.

"YOU TOO, YOU'RE SO HOT FOR NO REASON!" You both keep showering each other with confidence, not caring if your neighbors could hear you shouting.

You don't understand why you're suddenly filled with anticipation to go to some frat house that would be filled with strangers and smell like alcohol and weed, but you not troubled enough to even question it. All you know is that this is your first party as a freshman, and you want to make the most out of it with your best friend.

"So, who's going that you know anyways?" You glance at Sasha through your mirror as you apply lip gloss.

"Too many to count honestly and not to alarm you or anything but Jean will be there too." Sasha reluctantly spoke as you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

You completely forgot that Jean was a part of Sasha's friend group and now you're going to see him for the very first time since your breakup.

"Y/n?" Sasha waves her hand in front of your face and snaps you out of your deep thoughts.

"Sorry, but thanks for telling me." You shake your head as you try to not lose your train of thought again.

You and Sasha finish up on your final touches and make your way to the party as you feel your stomach flipping and hands slightly shake. Every time you start to tell yourself that Jean was just a friend now, you get flashbacks of everything you did as a couple, but you're going to let some guy ruin your first night out in college.

It doesn't take long to arrive and fuck, it didn't take long for the feelings of regret, nervousness, and panic to sink in. When you first arrive, people were already drunk in the front yard as couples made out the staircase leading to the front door. Immediately when opening the door, the bass from the speakers maakes your whole body vibrate with the music and your eyes strain from all the lights that were being cast across the house.

The whole place is already trashed with cups, plates, and different articles of clothing are scattered across the floor. You've always heard about how wild college parties can be, but you didn't expect something as crazed as this.

You turn to Sasha and see her talking to you but could only read her lips that make out, "I'm... drink," and walk away to the kitchen.

Well, shit.

You awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, not recognizing a single person until you feel a hand clasp your shoulder and pull you to a corner.

"Heya, gorgeousss, name's Flochhh..." A drunk man with auburn hair presses you against the wall as he tries to make conversation with you.

"S-Sorry, but I have to go." You try to get away from him only to have your arm get pulled back to the wall.

"Fucking let me go!" You fight to yank your arm away but don't have enough strength to succeed.

"Buttt I wantss to get chu know you babyyy." He leans in, trying to get your faces closer together, but luckily you dodge him quick enough to get out of his grasp.

"Watchu doinn- runninnn from me." He grasps your hand, but right when you were about to get pinned back against the wall again, you hear a stern voice.

"Get your hands off of her." You and Floch turn and see Armin, but this time with slightly smudged eyeliner with a long black sleeve that's complemented with a necklace and silver rings on both of his hands.

"Huhhh-," Floch slurs, finally letting go of you and confronting Armin.

Armin takes a step back with his hands in his pockets, not wanting to cause any issues, and lightly asserts, "This is my lovely girlfriend, so I would appreciate it if you would just back off, that's all."

Armin walkes up to you and wraps his arm around your waist as Floch's face becomes filled with complete disgust.

"So if you'll excuse us, we'll be getting out of your way so you can get as shitfaced as you like." He smirks at Floch and pulls you away, his hand still clutching your waist.

As he takes you away, you immediately notice how his arm feels so natural around you, like it was meant to be there which causes your heartbeat to quicken.

You only see him as the boy you went on an awkward date with, why did he suddenly make you feel this way?

"Thank you for your help, Armin." You bring your hand to the one that was resting on your waist and squeeze it to show your gratitude.

"I was only doing the bare minimum, no need to thank me." He tenderly looks into your eyes with compassion, not aware that he never let go of your waist.

"Well, what were you doing here anyway, you didn't catch me as the party type." You playfully joke as he grabs your arm and enters a large crowd that's dancing to music.

He turns to face you and tilts his head towards your ear to answer, "I heard you were coming, and I wanted to talk to you."

He grabs you by the waist and starts moving to the beat of the song to follow along with everyone surrounding you.

You feel your face start to heat up, finding it so attractive the way he leaned in to talk to you. He's a completely different person from the guy you went out with. This time he seems so much more confident by the way he holds you, speaks to you, and his fashion did a complete 180.

"Well, what's up?" You gain enough courage to wrap your arms around his neck and move your body with his.

You both move completely in sync forgetting for a second that you weren't the only two people in the room. You feel yourself start to get more butterflies as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly pulls you closer and closer. Before you know it, you have the biggest smile on your face as you have the time of your life with Armin.

This is what you've been missing out on, while you had been locked up in your dorm, exhausting yourself with no sign of ending. While Sasha's the one who made you come out of your comfort zone, Armin's the one who making you enjoy yourself the most and you love the idea of that. You love knowing that there's a person who could actually make you a better person and still make you feel comfortable while being alone with him.

"I don't really know how to explain this, but-"

"Y/N!!" Sasha pushes her way into the crowd and finds you and Armin with your bodies only centimeters apart, but seemingly didn't notice the tension between the two of you.

"Armin, I told you to find her and come to the game room!" She scolds Armin and pulls him away from you, making you feel a bit upset that you're not able to be alone with him a bit longer.

She takes you and Armin to another room that you assume were their friends because as soon as they enter, they're greeted with open arms. You immediately notice a small blonde girl and a tall brunette with freckles sitting together on a love seat and you have to admit that they make such a great couple. Sasha introduces you to everyone in the room and while it was pretty packed, it's easy to memorize who everyone is given that Sasha has mentioned them many times before.

Before you had the chance to settle in with everyone you see Connie get out of his seat and clear his throat very loudly to make an announcement.

"I think that it's only fair, since y/n is the newbie of the group, to play a 2v2 intense game of beer pong between me and Jean." Connie widely grins as everyone agrees and starts rioting.

"I heard my name." Jean abruptly enters, at first not noticing that you're in the same room.

"Well, I don't have a partner to play with so-" You feel a bit of shame while speaking but are quickly interrupted.

"I'll play with y/n," Armin speaks up and everyone gets louder, becoming enraptured as if this is the biggest game in history.

"Let's fucking go then." Jean locks eyes with you for a split second before talking to Connie.

You have to admit, while Jean looks like he's taking good care of himself, you don't feel the butterflies and tension that you thought you would. Maybe you're just overthinking everything because he's your first love, but you figure that maybe something would be left for him. You look back at Jean making sure you don't feel anything, but when you turn to face Armin. Butterflies. Even if it was just a tiny bit, something was there.

For him.

"You guys got this, I mean no offense to the other two, but they're either high, tipsy, or a bit of both." Eren walks up to you two as he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

"I've never played this before, so we'll see." You look down, afraid that Eren or Armin would judge you in some way.

"Neither has Armin, he always watches other people play, but I'm pretty surprised he volunteered himself. So, I'm guessing that your first date went pretty well today." Eren playfully nudges Armin as his face turns into a very light pink.

"Um, yeah it was pretty alright," You reply and smile at Armin, even though you both knew that your date was anything but 'alright'.

"Okay, it's set up, you guys can start whenever," Mikasa speaks with a complete monotone voice as she takes a seat back down next to Historia and Ymir.

You and Armin walk to your side of the table as Connie and Jean do the same, while everyone stands around the two teams ready to start their ear-piercing shouts. You start to feel a bit of pressure right before the game started, anxious that you'll make yourself look like a fool if you don't at least make a single cup.

"We'll give Armin the first shot." Connie cockily smirks and bounces the ping pong ball across the table.

Armin grabs the ball with his fingertips and starts calculating the way he would throw the ball. You have to admit, he looked absolutely adorable while concentrating on making it into the cup. You figure that maybe he thinks the same as you, not wanting to embarrass himself, but he looks so relaxed at the same time. After a few more seconds of critical thinking, he carefully throws the ball and makes it perfectly into the middle cup.

Expectedly, everyone starts screaming, jumping up and down, while some people grab Armin and shake him profusely as their excitement shoots through the roof. You can't help but feel thrilled for him as well, and right when his friends get their hands off of Armin, you wrap your arm around his neck and bring him in for a tight hug. You immediately pull away, unsure if he's uncomfortable being hugged by someone he barely knows, but when you take a step back you see his eyes light up with a small smile.

"Cut it out, love birds. It's my shot," Jean shoots Armin a snarky look and chugs the shot. He wasn't concentrating as much as Armin was, probably because he's played this game many times before, and to your surprise, he recklessly tosses the ball and makes a spiral dunk into the cup at the front of the formation.

"GOOD SHIT, JEAN!" Connie aggressively smacks Jean's back, causing him to jump forward and knock down two cups in the back row.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Connie?" Jean hits the back of Connie's head and they both drink whatever liquid was left in the cup and takes them out of the formation.

You look at the cup that has the ball in and right when you're about to take the shot, Armin swiftly takes it out of your grasp and drinks it as if it's water.

At this point, everyone was making fun of Connie's fuck up and cheering on Armin for chugging the shot like nothing while you're panicking in your thoughts, begging yourself not to make a foot out of yourself.

"Here." Armin hands you the ball and you feel your anxiety kick in as everyone's focus goes directly to you.

You feel your fingertips lightly quiver as you begin to aim the ball into the last cup in the back. Predictably, the ball hits the rim of the cup and doesn't make it in, but Armin still whispers to you a few words of encouragement as Marco picks up the ball from the floor and hands it to Connie. The game continues and luckily you and Armin win because of the two cups Jean knocked down, so while you and Armin are a bit tipsy, the others are completely plastered.

"This... nngh - bullshizz..." Connie clumsily walks over to you and hooks his arm around your neck, somewhat pulling you down while speaking to you.

"Alright, enough." Armin pulls Connie's arm away from you and takes you out of the room, before getting the chance to say bye to anyone.

"Armin-" He leads you to an empty room and doesn't hesitate to lock the door behind him.

"Please, let me talk, I've been waiting all night." Armin pulls you to the edge of the bed and slowly sits down as he tries to figure out how to come out with his news. You gently place your hand on top of his and give it a gentle squeeze, reassuring him.

While you did have a feeling about what he'a going to say, you don't want to jinx anything too good to be true. Even though when you first met Armin it wasn't the greatest first impression, spending time with him at the party made you realize that he's so much more than the awkward guy you went out with. You don't understand how your feelings for him switched up so fast in a matter of a day, but you don't care. At this point, Jean's completely out of the picture and something in you is telling yourself that there's something really special about Armin.

“So, um basically I just want to apologize for everything that happened earlier at the café. I-It’s just that you’re the first girl I’ve ever taken out and I didn’t want to fuck up, but I did absolutely everything wrong. It didn’t help how Sasha was talking so highly of you and god, when I saw your pictures, I thought you were the most perfect person I ever laid my eyes on. Then when I saw you, something in me just clicked that you were meant to be mine and I’m not one to believe in that love at first sight bullshit, so I didn’t know what to do. I just nervous and I didn't know what to do. I knew you were and still are way out of my league even though I felt like you were my person, but I didn't want to mess it up, so I tried to be distant to make it go away and I realized how fucking stupid that was. I'm so sorry for wasting your time and I was hoping we could have a second chance at a first date again to make it up to you." He has such a pained but relieved look on his face when he finishes talking, not looking at you, afraid that he may have done something that he would regret.

"I would actually love that, Armin." You exchange smiles and both stare at each other for a second in comfortable silence.

"Well, let's go then."He stands up and brings out his hand to yours.

"Wait what?" You give him a confused look as you place your hand in his and get up from the bed.

"Are you tired or something?" He furrows his eyebrows with a bit of a pouty face.

"No, not at all." You intertwine your fingers with his and make your way out of the frat house, forgetting say goodbye to anyone.

"So, where are you taking me so late at night?" You ask and turn to look at him to see a small smile plaster on his face.

"I was hoping I could take you back to my apartment to make us a proper meal after all that partying." You feel your heart pounding against your chest as he has the most genuine look in his eyes.

"Absolutely."

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#tw: alcohol #tw: drug use #tw: assault #armin smut #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin arlert #armin arlert smut #aot armin #snk armin #aot smut

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Love On-Set (Pt. 07 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 3 K

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Kisses

The only reason why you didn't talk to Dacre at the airport was because you thought you'd have a couple of hours before shooting. But you were wrong. The flight was terribly late, and you had no choice but to go straight to set, and as soon as you got there, you and Dacre were pulled apart so you could get ready.

Already in your outfit, you stare at the mirror as your hairstylist gives the final touches, mumbling in response to whatever she's talking about. Your leg is bouncing nervously, as you regret not having called Dacre yesterday night. Or driven to his house. Anything really. Maybe it would a lot easier if you two had some time, but life has a way of complicating things.

“And you're ready,” Laura says and you manage to smile and thank her. “Now go before James comes yelling at us again.”

“Alright.” Mumbling under your breath, you stand up and leave the dressing room only to be rushed into the parking lot. Dacre is already there, talking to James. The wind makes you shiver and you brace yourself... Well, you think it's the wind that makes you shiver, what else could it be?

“...despite the delay, we'll get everything done in time so–” James swallows the words when he sees you. “(Y/N), great. Hope you made a safe trip here. I was just talking to Dacre about the upcoming scenes you two will shoot. There's just so much chemistry that I had to add more kisses.” Oh... You should've read the new script. “But I'm sure it won't be a problem since you two seem to be getting along very well.”

“Yeah, of course...” The first thing you'll do when you get to your hotel room is read every single line of this scrip. It'll be better if you're mentally prepared for what's to come.

But you're not prepared for this.

“Alright, everybody into position.” The director announces before walking away, leaving you and Dacre alone. Well, not exactly since you can't ignore the camera guys, the microphones... All the rest.

“Sorry, we couldn't talk before... This.” Dacre apologizes, but you shake your head slightly.

“But we will.” Nodding more to yourself than to him, you hope nobody is listening to this conversation. “Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, guys, c'mon,” James says and Dacre walks away as you take a deep breath. Thinking over the lines, you let yourself fall into character, remembering the backstory that leads to this moment. “Everybody set? Ok... Action!”

Turning around, you look at Dacre as he crosses the parking lot. “I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” You yell, walking to end the distance between the two of you. “There's a freaking Demidog in the pool!”

“The thing is dead. So why the hurry?” He flashes Billy's a cocky smile, and you struggle to keep the irritated expression on your face. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date?” Giving action to Amy's jealousy attack, you punch Dacre in the chest, and he gives a small step back as he rolls his eyes. “Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?”

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?” When you move to push him again, Billy grabs Amy's wrists. This was improvised, you think. Or is it on the new script? Dacre's grip is soft though, and you put on an annoyed face as you try to set free, uselessly.

“Because that's where you always are.” Putting a frustrating undertone in the sentence, you sigh. “But it doesn't matter. We have a much bigger fish to fry.”

“The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

You get why Amy falls for Billy. Or are your fellings for Dacre clouding your judgment? Putting up a fight, you try to free yourself of his grip, making sure to stumble backward until your back hits a car. “Let go of me! I'm tired of this shit.” Slowly, Amy gives up fighting. Physically and emotionally. The moment you stop moving, Dacre let's go of your wrists, his arms coming to trap you in between the car and his body.

“I know you're jealous. I just need to figure out why.” Billy leans closer, and you can feel yourself drowning in Dacre's eyes, more beautiful than the ocean.

“I said it once and I'll say it again. I won't be one of your many flings...” Your voice is low, and as the cameras move closer, you know it's about to happen. God, it's so damn hard to keep up the act. You can feel Dacre's chest every time he breaths in, and you want to pull him even closer. “...so... Back the hell off.” Putting your hand on his chest, you know that the action that would make more sense here would be Amy trying to push him away again... But you fail to do that, Amy slowly disappearing as you break character for the hundredth time. Instead of pushing him away, your fingers slowly clench around the collar of his jacket, grabbing it. Dacre's eyes burn on you, and you know he wants it to.

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

Then you don't know who moves first. If it's Dacre who leans forward or if it's you, pulling him. But it happens, fast and needy. First kisses shouldn't be like this. They're supposed to be short and sweet, shy even. But part of you is thankful for the situation you're in right now, because it justifies how you cling onto him, how deep the kiss is, hot and passionate. Billy and Amy were both craving for this moment, but so were you. And so were Dacre because his grip around you is tight, his lips keeping a quick pace, one that you're more than happy to follow. You hand find its way to his hair, as he holds the small of your back, needing to have you closer, if that even possible. The cameras are long forgotten, and there's no set, no show, nothing. Just his taste, fresh and sweet, inebriating. There's something in the background, some familiar sound trying to reach you, but you push it away, ignore it, tiptoeing even more to try and match Dacre's high, wishing he would lift you up.

“CUT!” James' voice sounds like a freaking thunder, and it wakes you up. With your heart beating insanely fast, you suddenly go back to reality, probably blushing harder than ever as you step away from Dacre. He takes a while to let go of you, intense eyes locked on yours as he tries to catch his breath, falling out of the stupor too. “That was... Good. That was good.” James says, and when you look around, you notice people staring. That wasn't... Discreet, and now you know that what you heard was James yelling ‘cut’ half a dozen times.

Running a hand through your hair, you have to fight back the urge to touch your lips, the kiss burning in your head... You really hope James will need another take.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks, taking a quick look around before taking your hand in his.

“Yeah...” Biting your lip, you nod, staring at him. This just gave you a rush of adrenaline, making you feel brave. “More than ok, actually.”

Dacre's lips break into a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Well, judging by James' obsession with the perfect lighting, I bet he'll need a couple more takes to get it done.”

“I really hope so. I–” You're cut short for a commotion. Several people move to surround James, who soon starts cursing. “What's going on?” You mutter, exchanging a glance with Dacre before walking over the sea of people. That's when you see the rest of the cast, and you just now remember they were here too... And they just saw everything... Millie won't let you hear the end of it.

“Who the hell did this?” James shouts, and a lot of people start apologizing. Giving the others a glance, you notice they have their eyes glued to their phones.

“Oh, no...” Something leaked, you're so damn sure. Rushing to the guys, you stand beside Noah, taking a look at his screen. “What happened?”

“The kiss. The first you shot. Someone here recorded and published on YouTube ten minutes ago.” As Noah speaks, he hands you over his phone and you read the news article he was reading. ‘Exciting scene from Stranger Things 3 leaks: Amy Halpert and Billy Hargrove are definitely a couple’.

“Shit.” You mutter, leaning closer to Dacre so he can read it too. “Who did it?”

“We have no idea,” Natalia answers, looking up from her phone. “But I watched it. Whoever did this stopped recording right before the cameras fell.”

This sucks. Giving Noah his cellphone back, you sigh. “It's really mean to do that. There's a lot of operations to keep the set free from curious eyes and someone from the inside leaks it? That's ridiculous.”

“James will sue whoever did this,” Dacre adds.

“Excuse me, guys.” Ryan comes, a tablet on his hand and a very worried expression on his face. “James wants you to stay here until we find out who did this.” He says, giving you a quick glance before looking back at his tablet. “You got the trailers here so... I think you'll be comfortable. Sorry, but James is–”

“RYAN!”

“James' orders. Sorry.” Rolling his eyes and sighing, he gives his back at you.

“We'll have to stay? I didn't do it.” Gaten exclaims, clearly pissed.

“Me neither. I was too busy watching the kiss with my own eyes.” Natalia complains but gives you a glance.

Well, you would like to get to your bed, but complaining won't help and you're exhausted from the flight. “I'm calling it a night.” You mutter, upset that this whole thing happened. The leaking, of course. “I'll take a shower to wash the 80's from my skin and I'll go see my trailer.” You haven't seen it yet, since it's meant for the Battle of Starcout scenes, which you'll probably shoot throughout the night.

“Me too,” Dacre says, then turning at you. “I'll find your trailer after if that's alright.”

“Sure.” Smiling, you blush to feel all those eyes on you. “See you soon, then.”

• • •

You're lucky to have your baggage here. Maybe the flight being delayed wasn't so bad as it seemed. After showering and handing the outfit back to your stylist, you follow her directions to where the trailers are. They're in the very back of the set, in a large area, set side by side. You're surprised to see the trailer doesn't look like a trailer on the inside, but like an actual house, only a little tiny. There's a main space with a couch, a table, and a TV, then a kitchen with a stove, an oven, and a sink. A bathroom with a shower. And on the very back, the thing you needed the most after this long day. A well-equipaded room with a huge bed. Smiling, you let your piece of baggage fall as you climb on the bed, lying on your back and sighing in relief.

Jumping back to your feet, you decide to change into something more comfortable. So you exchange your jeans for light gray sweatpants and a black spaghetti strap tank top before lying back down. You're happy you ate on the plane, or else you'd be starving right now.

But despite all the thoughts in your head, you can't help but come back to the main event of the day. Your fingers come to touch your lips, as you close your eyes to bring the memory back. You're upset you didn't get to do more takes. The cold and nervousness you were feeling vanished so quickly, at the same moment his lips collided on yours. So hot and intense. Breathtaking.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by a knock on the door. Dacre. He told you he'd come. Taking a deep breath and fixing your simple clothes the best you can, you make your way to the door, thinking you should've picked something better to put on. “Hey.” You mutter when you swing the door open, gesturing for him to come in. “Did you see your trailer?”

“Yeah. I stopped by to leave my luggage.” He answers, stepping inside and looking down at you. “These things look bigger from the inside.”

“Definitely.” Clearing your throat, you gesture at the back of the trailer, to the bedroom. You know how awkward it may be, but there's a burning on your back that won't let you sit on the couch. “I hope you don't mind but could we talk while I lie down? My back hurts real bad from the five hours we had to spend at the airport.”

“I don't mind at all.” Nodding, you walk back to the bedroom, throwing yourself on the bed. “So. Who do you think leaked the video?” Dacre asks as he sits on the edge.

“I have no idea. All I know is that is wasn't me. And it wasn't you.” Staring at the ceiling, you try not to feel very self-conscious right now. “I was too busy on scene.”

“Me too.” He mutters. “Where does it hurt, by the way?”

“On my shoulder blades.” You answer, looking at him. He looks very handsome, as usual, despite wearing a simple white T-shirt. “Those airport chairs weren't very nice to me.”

“I can give you a massage if you want.” Dacre stares at you dead serious, which means he's not joking.

You wish you had the adrenaline rush from earlier, so it'd push the words right off your mouth, and maybe you wouldn't be blushing. “Uhm... If you want to.”

“Alright, lie on your stomach.” He says, taking off his shoes and climbing on the bed.

“Fine.” Mumbling, more to yourself than to him, you roll over, grabbing a pillow to rest your head. Breathing deeply, you feel the mattress moving under Dacre's weight as he places himself beside you.

“Let me know if it hurts, alright?” The moment you nod, you feel his hands on your back. And he must know what he's doing because it does feel good. The butterflies on your stomach are wide awake now, since Dacre has his hands on you, strong but delicate at the same time, rubbing and softly pushing your muscles.

“If I knew you were good at this I'd have asked.” You say with a smile, pulling the small amount of hair that still falls on your back out of his way. Dacre gets this as a permission to put a little more pressure, just enough to make you relax. His fingers slide under the fabric of your shirt, but you don't mind.

“Glad I can help.”

You just mumble in response, suddenly feeling your tiredness taking over as you close your eyes shut. Falling asleep now is the last thing you want because it's so good to be around Dacre, and you think you may finally understand where you both stand in all this situation. What you're feelings are and if they can take you somewhere.

“It's ok, I'm alright now.” You speak up, moving to lie on your side. “If you continue I'll fall asleep in a matter of seconds.”

“If you're tired I can go.” He gestures at the door, already moving.

“No. Stay.” Bursting out, you sit up, grabbing his arm. You can't believe what you just said. What you just asked of him. “If you want, of course.”

Dacre stands still for a while, frozen before he settles down on the bed again. “Alright.” You can tell he's tired too, by the way his eyes are heavy.

“Let's play a game. Who sleeps first loses.” The idea comes suddenly to your head, and it seems to lighten up the mood.

“And what will I get when I win?” He has a cocky smile on his lips as he lies down, facing you.

“When? Don't get overconfident.” Moving a little to get comfortable, you take a deep breath when your eyes set upon his. Blue and calming. “I'm gonna win.” You say, winking at him.

“I really doubt that.” As he speaks, Dacre brings his hand to your face, fingers sliding from your forehead to your eyelids, forcing you to close your eyes. “You'll lose, so better start making peace with that.” His voice, low and deep, sends a shiver down your spine.

You were just about to answer, to say something, when you notice how his hand lingers, moving to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin on your jaw until it reaches your chin. Slowly, painfully slow, it comes to your lower lip. His touch burns, making your head spin around. The memory of the kiss fills your head, and you know you want to do that again.

Swallowing hard, you gather all the courage you can to move closer to him, ending all the space between your bodies and, being really brave for once, going for the thing you want. That you need the most right now. You connect your lips to his, feeling relieved as if a burden was suddenly lifted when you feel him kissing you back. Dacre's hand remain on your cheek, and yours rest on his chest, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his shirt. The kiss is slower this time, as if you're both discovering, unrevealing each other. But you don't mind. You love it as much as you loved the other one.

It sucks when you have to break apart to breathe. But when you do, you remain close, your foreheads touching because you just can't force yourself to pull away from him now. “Sorry, I... I had to.” You mutter under your breath.

“It's alright.” Dacre's hand comes to encircle your waist, keeping you close. “If you didn't, I'd have to.” He giggles. “I've been dying to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You whisper. “What you said in the message... I feel the same way. That kiss... I really wanted it and that wasn't Amy, it was me.” Maybe it's the sleep winning over you, but the words just come out. You need him to know. You need to let it out and you hope it means something to him. “Dacre, I... I really like you. A lot.”

You blush when he smiles, but soon enough a giggle escapes your lips. “Then I'd like to take you on a second date. As soon as James lets us out of this set.”

“I'd love that.” Giggling like a teenager, you kiss him again, a peck on the lips that linger a little too long. But not long enough. “Uhm... You can crash here if you want.” You decide to offer since you just noticed you're already on the bed, all tangled on each other. “I think we already reached the point of no return here.”

“I agree...”

“Are we... Are we going to sleep like this?” You ask, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“However you like.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you turn around. Dacre is fast to hold you, a strong arm pushing your back against his chest. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You both move to get more comfortable and you lay your hand on top of his, on your stomach.

You've never been like that with anyone, so close, so... Intimate. But you like it. And you can't believe it's Dacre who's holding you this way.

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelaninn @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum @thisbreakableheaven

#dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery fanfiction #imagine dacre montgomery #billy hargrove x reader #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine

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nerdythebard · 3 years

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#13: Doctor Strange [Marvel]

By the Eternal Vishanti, I welcome you back!

Today we're making the Sorcerer Supreme of the Marvel Universe-616, Doctor Strange. This spell-slinging master of the mystic arts has been my favourite superhero for quite some time now, and I'm always excited whenever we get something related to him. Now, just a quick note – this build is going to be based on the comic book version of Strange, not the MCU one. We're having real spells and incantations, not some thinly-veiled Clarke's Third Law. #LetMagicBeMagic.

Next Time: The Gods call for us again. The Dragon King blesses us with his presence.

Now then, let's examine what we need to become the mightiest mystic of the Multiverse:

Arcane Artillery: Doctor Strange holds enough mystic knowledge to give Mind Flayers an indigestion. What he doesn't know, he can look up in his Sanctum Sanctorum's library. We need to be prepared to have a spell for almost any situation.

Mystic Fists of Fury: Before opening his Third Eye fully, Strange spent some time in Kamar-Taj under the tutelage of the Ancient One, practising his combat skills in case he was ever in a situation where magic would fail him.

The Old Favourites: Whatever incarnation of the character we encounter, Doctor Strange is almost always certain to have the following items on him: the Eye of Agamotto, the Cloak of Levitation, and occasionally the Book of the Vishanti. After the Last Days of Magic event, Strange found a likeness for weapons like shortswords, staffs, and axes.

---

Stephen Strange was an ordinary human, but due to the years of exposure to otherworldly mystic forces, his biology changed to not accept regular human food anymore. This sounds like a good excuse to make him Variant Human. We get a +1 to two abilities of our choice (Intelligence and Constitution), we know how to speak Common and one other language of our choice, we get to pick one skill to be proficient in (Investigation), and we get to pick a feat. The Medic feat gives us a +1 to Wisdom, proficiency with the Medicine skill, and the ability to tend to our party members' wounds on short rests (Medicine check [DC 15], if successful - the player can use the maximum value of their Hit Dice to regain Hit Points).

Although he started as a simple physician, the turning point of Strange's life was his training in Kamar-Taj. He gained skills and knowledge, vast enough to call himself a Sage. From this background, we gain proficiency in Arcana and History, we learn two more languages, and we gain the Researcher feature; when we're to recall a piece of lore, and we don't know it, we usually can figure out where to find the information (be it a library, a temple, or somebody's private collection).

ABILITY SCORES

Intelligence is our primary stat, serving as our casting ability and our pride. Next is Constitution, all casters need to keep it high. We follow that up with Wisdom, lessons of the Ancient One granted us both humility and broadened our horizons.

Dexterity is a little low, but we'll take care of that later. Charisma is next, even after his training was complete Stephen can be a bit of a jerk and refusing to hear anyone but himself. Finally, we'll dump Strength.

CLASS

Assigning a D&D class to Doctor Strange was a very (and I mean very) difficult task. Starting off, I had to disregard his Sorcerer Supreme title, because in D&D sorcerers are born with the ability to wield magic. Strange had to study and practice to get his powers, so that makes him a Wizard. Kamar-Taj is also dedicated to studying the teachings of the Vishanti, a trinity of god-like beings who give the Sorcerer Supreme their powers, so that would make Strange a Cleric. Finally, he also draws powers from deals he made with otherworldly entities (such as Cyttorak, the Faltine, Munnopor, Watoomb, sometimes even Dormammu himself), which screams 'Warlock', except there's no way to incorporate multiple patrons without homebrewing. It wasn't easy, but I am satisfied with what I've created. Hopefully, you'll be, too.

Level 1 - Monk: We start just as Strange started, by honing our body first. Monks get the d8 Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with simple weapons and shortswords, and proficiency in one set of artisan's tools or a musical instrument (I'd go with alchemist's supplies). Our saving throws are Strength and Dexterity, and we get to pick two class skills (Insight and Religion).

Monks start with Unarmoured Defence. When we're not wearing armour, or holding a shield, our AC equals [10 + our Dexterity modifier + our Wisdom modifier]. We also get Martial Arts, which gives our unarmed strikes some more power. We can now use Dexterity instead of Strength for our unarmed strikes attack and damage rolls, we replace our Strength modifier with a d4 for damage of our unarmed strikes, and if we use the unarmed strike (or a monk weapon) on our turn as an Attack, we can use a bonus action to make an extra unarmed strike.

Level 2 - Monk: We get more mobile with Unarmoured Movement. Our ground speed increases by 10 feet if we're not wearing armour or holding a shield.

We also get access to the Monk's signature feature, the Ki energy. We start with 2 Ki Points, which we can spend on the following abilities:

Flurry of Blows: Spending 1 Ki Point after making an attack, lets us make two unarmed strikes as a bonus action;

Patient Defence: Spending 1 Ki Point lets us take a Dodge action as a bonus action on our turn;

Step of the Wind: Spending 1 Ki Point doubles our jump distance for the turn, and we can take the Dash or Disengage actions as a bonus action.

Level 3 - Wizard: We finally begin our study of spells and arcane arts.

Unfortunately, multiclassing into Wizard does not give us any additional benefits. We do, however, get Arcane Recovery. Once per day, during a short rest, we can choose a number of expended spell slots and refill them. The number must be equal to half of our Wizard level (rounded up), and the recovered spell slots cannot be 6th-level or higher.

Wizards also start with Spellcasting at their 1st level, and they know both cantrips and ritual spells. Our spellcasting ability is Intelligence, but unlike many other casting classes we do not get a full access to our spell list. Instead, we start with six spells in our spellbook and get two more each time we level up. Then, we can only prepare and use [Our Intelligence modifier + our Wizard level] spells at once. Describing all of those spells we pick would make this post over a mile long, and I've made that mistake with Sypha. To not make this a chore for you guys, I decided that from now on whenever I make a Wizard (or, a build where Wizard is a majority), I will simply list the spells we pick without descriptions. Let's be honest, if not here, you'll certainly find those in a different build. Alright, let's begin! First, we get to pick three cantrips:

Fire Bolt

Mage Hand

Minor Illusion

When it comes to our starting spells, let's take these six. Remember, we can only prepare a certain number, and we start with only two 1st-level spell slots.

Alarm

Detect Magic

Fog Cloud (to represent the Mists of Munnopor from the comics)

Shield (of the Seraphim)

Magic Missile (as a stand-in for the Daggers of Daveroth)

Sleep

Level 4 - Wizard: We get to pick our subclass, our Arcane Tradition. For Strange, who can be any combination of Wizard, Cleric, and Warlock, the best choice is to pick Theurgy from 2017 Unearthed Arcana. Theurgists are religious magic-users, who focus more on the arcane research rather than prayer and worship.

With Divine Inspiration, we get to select a Cleric Domain and a deity we wish to follow. Ask your DM if it's possible for you to worship three gods as a collective, a magical triumvirate. For your own Vishanti I suggest Mystra, Mother of All Magic, Azuth, the Lord of Spells, and Savras, the All-Seeing. For a Wizard, I'd say there's no better choice than Knowledge Domain.

We also get Arcane Initiate, which lets us replace spells we learn as we level up with the cleric spells of our chosen domain. What's cool about that feature is, other wizards cannot copy those spells from our spellbook. If we get all of our chosen domain's spells, we can keep replacing spells we learn with spells from the Cleric spell list.

Finally, we gain the Cleric's unique skill - Channel Divinity - except in our case it becomes Channel Arcana. We start with two effects: Divine Arcana and the effect granted by the chosen domain. Unlike Clerics, we can use the Channel Arcana once per short or long rest.

Divine Arcana lets us use a bonus action to control the flow of magic in the area. The next spell we cast gets a +2 to its attack roll or saving throw DC.

Knowledge of the Ages grants us quick insight into a skill we're not familiar with. For the next 10 minutes, we're proficient with one tool set of our choice or proficient in one skill we choose.

We gain one more 1st-level spell slot, and for this level's two spells let's get Feather Fall, and Command from the domain list.

Level 5 - Wizard: At this level we unlock 2nd-level spell slots, and we can access 2nd-level spells. Let's get Hold Person (for Strange's famous Crimson Bands of Cyttorak) and Icingdeath's Frost from 2021 Unearthed Arcana: Draconic Options (for the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon).

Level 6 - Wizard: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement! As is the rule of thumb with all Wizards, boosting our Intelligence is a priority. That's what we shall put the 2 points into.

For this level's spells, we get another cantrip (Light), and let's take Locate Object and Mirror Image (to represent the Images of Ikonn).

Level 7 - Wizard: We unlock 3rd-level spell slots. Let's get Dispel Magic, and we can get Fly to finally get a representation for our Cloak of Levitation.

Level 8 - Wizard: We get our first subclass upgrade. Arcane Acolyte grants us the 1st-level benefits of our chosen domain. For Knowledge domain, it's Blessings of Knowledge; we learn two languages of our choice and get proficiency in two skills... which we pretty much are proficient in already. To not waste a feature, ask your DM if you can double your proficiency bonus for those two skills instead. If you get a 'yes', pick Arcana and Insight.

For this level's spells, let's get Counterspell and Magic Circle.

Level 9 - Wizard: From here, we get access to 4th-level spell slots. Banishment and Dimension Door seems like exactly what we need to keep enemies at bay and have fun with portals.

Level 10 - Wizard: Halfway through the build, and we get an ASI. Let's cap our Intelligence at 20, with those two points.

For this level's spells, let's grab Arcane Eye and turn back a little and get Speak with Dead from our domain list, as it is one of few spells not available to Wizards.

Level 11 - Wizard: We get access to 5th-level spells. With Contact Other Plane and Legend Lore, we become an even bigger magical know-it-all to aid our party.

Level 12 - Wizard: For our subclass upgrade, we get Arcane Priest, which grants us the Knowledge Domain's 6th-level benefit - Channel Divinity: Read Thoughts. One creature within 60 feet of us must make a Wisdom saving throw, or grant us access to its surface thoughts (emotions and active thoughts, no deep secrets or hidden motives) for 1 minute. During that time, we can also use our action to cast the Suggestion spell on the target; they fail their saving throw automatically.

We also get our final cantrip for this build (Sword Burst), and we get two more 5th-level spells: Planar Binding and Wall of Force.

Level 13 - Wizard: We unlock 6th-level spells. With Globe of Invulnerability and True Seeing, we upgrade our Shield of the Seraphim and give our Eye of Agamotto even more mystic abilities (as it should have had!)

Level 14 - Wizard: Time for another ASI! Let's put one point into Constitution for better HP chance, and one into Dexterity.

Arcane Gate finally gives us a proper yellow sparkly portal thingy, and let's get Chain Lightning for some much needed offensive capabilities.

Level 15 - Wizard: We're getting into 7th-level spells at this level. Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion allows us to recreate our very own Sanctum Sanctorum, and with Project Image we can get Strange's Astral Projection.

Level 16 - Wizard: At this level, we get our final subclass upgrade (and we cross the 100 HP mark, yay!). Arcane High Priest grants us the Knowledge Domain's 17th-level benefits. Visions of the Past lets us spend at least 1 minute of meditation to receive information about a specific object we're holding, or our immediate surroundings:

Object Reading - we learn of the object's previous owner. We know how the person came into contact with the object, how they lost it, and a significant even in their life tied to the object.

Area Reading - we see the events that transpired in the specific location (up to 50-foot cube), going back a number of days equal to our Wisdom modifier.

For this level's spells, let's get Plane Shift and Teleport to double-down on Strange's interdimensional travels.

Level 17 - Wizard: Time for 8th-level spells.

Illusory Dragon is a nice nod to the great "Doctor Strange and the Sorcerers Supreme" series (go check it out, it's awesome!), and Maze is another good banishment-type spell to have. Just don't use it on minotaurs.

Level 18 - Wizard: For our final ASI, let's put two points into Dexterity, leaving us unfortunately with an odd number (hopefully, you'll manage to find some ability-increasing item or benefit in your adventure).

For this level's spells, let's grab Power Word: Stun and Demiplane is a good combo to immobilize a foe and send it to the Shadow Realm Mirror Dimension.

Level 19 - Wizard: We unlock the pinnacle of D&D arcane, the 9th-level spells... that is, unless your DM introduces High Magic, which is... whew, a league of its own.

Time Stop and Foresight give us those Time Stone abilities (for all you MCU degenerates. Yes, I know what I said, but Strange was given the Time Stone in his new run, so I did not lie!)

Level 20 - Wizard: Our capstone is Wizard 18, which gives us the Spell Mastery feature. We get to choose one 1st-level spell and one 2nd-level spell from our spellbook and make them our signature moves; we can now cast them at will, without expending a spell slot. Shield and Hold Person seems like a good choice here.

For our final spells of this build, we cannot go without Astral Projection, and let's get Imprisonment a chance.

---

And there we go! Doctor Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts. Let's see what we've created:

First of all, we're the epitome of Wizard, we're a great utility caster and a pretty good support, with Internet-like capability of finding information. We're don't have a lot of damage-dealing abilities, like Sypha did, but remember - Wizards also get spell by finding them in the world and copying them in their spellbook. This here is only what we get automatically. Go and roam the world in search for that Fireball!

We have AC of 14, but with Shield (and later making it pretty much permanent) it can get up to 19, and we have 130 Hit Points on average. Our speed is also a little better, with 40 feet of movement (plus flying thanks to the Fly spell).

Unfortunately, our Charisma and Wisdom are not great, so those saving throws might be difficult. Our Strength is also not the greatest, so we're pretty much forced to fight with magic.

---

And that is it! Next time, we return to SMITE for a few builds, as I absorbs information about Fire Emblem: Three Heroes. Also, the game devs just released a teaser for Morgana le Fay, and my first reaction was 'Hexblade Warlock'. Do you agree?

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it and your day is going great. I'll see you next time!

- Nerdy out!

#dnd #d&d 5e #dungeons and dragons #character building #marvel #mcu #doctor strange #stephen strange #sorcerer supreme #wizard #theurgy

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babygirlkiki1016 · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Love Vs Rage

Chapter 10: A lovely Bond

My hand clasped over my mouth at the words I had spoken, I didn't mean for it to come out. It was as if on instinct, but Thorin didn't seem to mind, he didn't take his eyes off me. And for the first time since the beginning of this trip, I saw love and adoration in those ocean blue orbs. His cheeks turned light pink at my comment, slowly he stood his chest almost against mine.

"You love me?" He muttered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How can you love me amralime?" It was him, the same rough voice from earlier, he is the one who called me that.

"I don't know, but when I'm around you, your who my heart belongs to. It's why I left because I thought my feelings were getting in the way. I thought love was getting in the way but it was rage, I can't blame you no matter how much I want to. And I admire your bravery and courage, but throughout this quest, each piece of my heart had attached itself to you. Maybe it was your leadership or your kind words, or maybe it was something entirely different but I'm positive about one thing Myis Ravos (My raven), I love you. And...I forgive you." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held in a sob the best he could but failed. His strong arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face into my neck.

"I love you too...Promise you won't leave again, promise me that we'll stay together no matter how hard this journey gets. Cause losing you just for a few hours broke me, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything without you by my side." My hands slid up his back, but before I could enjoy the warm hug from him I felt his wound.

"I will if you promise to let me treat your injuries." He chucked but groaned as it hurt his chest, I helped him sit back down. The rag in my hand ran over his skin again, wiping away the blood and dirt from the surface. "Promise me you won't be so reckless, I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles lightly.

"Same goes for you." I couldn't help but smile, I didn't feel angry anymore. I felt loved and happy, I haven't felt like this in a long time. I kept cleaning the blood off, and when I was finished I took a step back to see if I missed anything.

"Alright, get into the bath I'll bring some lathers." As he begins to undress I rummaged through the basket of pink and purple bars, none was a manly type of smell but I highly doubt he would mind. "I have lavender, and cherry but beware both will make you smell like a woman." He laughed and turned around in the pool, the ends of his hair were now wet. I had this weird feeling to get in there with him, my legs rubbed together in excitement. Quickly I dismissed the thought and handed him the soaps but before I turned away he clutched my arm.

"Join me, for I am not able to flex my body like I'm used to. I believe I acquire assistance, I might just miss a spot." His fingers reach to the hem of my shirt, slowly undoing the ribbon tying it together.

"You've been bathing yourself for many years Thorin, I think you can handle this on your own." I didn't stop him from sliding my shirt down my shoulders, nor when he started to undo my bindings.

"I won't look if that's what you worried about, I trust my men but they sometimes can't help but let their eyes wander. I don't want them to see you bare." His touch leaves me, and he looks away so I'd be more open to the idea of joining him. He did have a point, I care for these dwarves but sometimes urges can take over. I shed the rest of my clothes, letting them join his that remained on the stone. He tensed up for a second as he felt the water move, he knew I was in now. "Lavender?" He held out the bar of soap, which I gladly took from him. His breathing became more rapid, he was nervous for I was too close.

"Nervous my king?" I said sarcastically as I ran the soap over his back, he leaned into my touch like it was heavenly.

"A little, I've never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman." He glanced back at me for a moment before turning forward again, he really wanted to look. "The things I said before, I didn't mean them, I meant something entirely different. At first, I was just being rude, but over time I fell for you. When I called you weak and a burden, I wanted you to go home for I do not wish to see you hurt. And when I called you a whore, it was because I was jealous of the stares the rest were giving you." Elrond was right, this entire time he loved me, but what about what he said at the bridge? Is this all just a plan to make me help him?

"And what about the bridge, when you were talking to Dwalin?"

"I knew you heard, at the moment I was trying to push you away. I too was afraid of what my feelings would bring, but when I noticed the rest started to be protective of you I realized they had accepted you as one of their own. I truly do love you, Uslukhuê kurdu, (Dragon of my heart). And I do not wish to push away my feelings any longer. If I may ask, will you let me court you?" I smiled at his offer, now that I think about it he was the one who courted me. The one who gave me more food in my bowl than the others.

"I believe you've already had, but I accept your offer Thorin." He sighed in relief, but something else remained on his mind.

"May I turn around? There is something I wish to do." I hummed in response and slowly he faced me, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips which I returned. "You are mine amralime, and no one can take you from me."

~♪♠♪~

After we cleaned up, I made sure that Thorin had a new pair of clothes that was stowed away in one of the chests after I bandaged his torso. The rest took their pick of the pile, and what surprised me was that they enjoyed the design upon the cloth.

"Y/n," Thorin called with a brush and a small silver bead in hand. He sat down next to me on a stool with his legs spread apart. Without another word, I sat between them, and he began to brush my hair softly. "This is the reason we dwarves keep our hair long, so our lover can braid it. It's a symbol showing that we're taken, and I'm glad I get to share it with you. What about you? What are your counting rituals?"

"We don't have much, it's normal human ways of courting. Gifting each other with flowers and chocolates, the only different thing is the wedding. When two of my kin want to marry, they need to get permission from either the King or Queen. We may have a huge kingdom but we treat it like a small town. If they receive permission then a wedding is planned, the entire kingdom will be there to see it. You'll have your party where you mingle with guests before you do the private ceremony of the night." He brushed my hair back towards him while running his fingers through it, I leaned back slightly enjoying the sensation.

"What is the private ceremony?"

"The private ceremony seems like nonsense, but it's very important. If the two wish to go through with it, they will have a bowl of paint infused with the blood of a royal. You need the blood of a royal to make it work, but each one will paint its markings on the other. It's a private ceremony because both of the two are going to be bare when this happens, after the painting is in place they will make a promise and the paint is now infused with their skin." Setting down the brush he grabbed a lock of my hair and started to braid it, he seemed focused like it was a masterpiece.

"What happens if they break that promise?"

"It depends on the situation, if one chooses to break their promise on purpose, the one who broke the promise is not allowed to marry again. For the marking burns into their skin, that way each digonisk knows that they are not to be intimate with anyone ever again. The other who remained faithful are allowed to remarry, for the symbols will disappear. However if one breaks it by accident, say a life or death situation and it is proven to be true there is a spell that the royal can cast to remove them." I looked up at him for a second, a smirk on my face as he looks down at me in slight horror.

"Still wish for me to be yours?" That look of fear was wiped off instantly, he kissed my forehead and tilted my head back up so he could finish his braid.

"That is one way to keep someone loyal, maybe my kin should have something like that. Although yes, I wish to still be with you, until death does us part." He holds out the braid he finished. "Hold it for me." I carefully grabbed the end with my fingers as he goes to braid another lock on the other side.

"What kind of braid is this?"

"Well you have to defeat Smaug, so this braid will help you keep your hair out of your face."

"Is it true that once your hair is braided you can never take it out again?"

"Only your other can take it out and fix it, if you do it yourself it shows you do not care about the courtship. Which once I'm done, you will braid my hair as the process states."

"And I can braid it in any way I want?" A mischievous smile came across my features, which he chuckled for he knew what I was doing.

"Anyway, you want." He grabs the braid that rested between my fingers and intertwined the two together.

"Interesting, perhaps I'll braid it in front of your face to give you a longer beard."

"If I die because of my inability to see I blame you." He clipped my hair with the bead and kissed my temple while wrapping his arms around me. "Who knew you were such a prankster, I think my nephews are a bad influence for you."

"Oh please you haven't seen anything yet, back in the kingdom of Larthas I was constantly scolded by my parents for always leaving presents for the maids. One time, I put a bucket of mud on the top of her door, and let's just say she wasn't happy. It took her hours to get the mud out of her hair." He laughed as we switched places, his hand stroked my leg gently. I summoned an ethereal bead making it into a solid object, on it there lied a dragon symbol.

"So what braid are you thinking of?" I wanted it to be special, something that showed it could only be made by me.

"Choose a color."

"Red (Or whatever color you prefer)." I conjured a red ribbon and began to braid his hair. (I'll leave that up to you guys, but I would do something like this.)

Everyone's jaws dropped at my handiwork, especially Thorin, the moment he got up and looked in the mirror his heart stopped.

"How on earth did you manage to do that?" His eyes lit up with excitement but I could feel the jealousy radiating off of him. He traced the design, he almost couldn't stop staring at it. "Never mind that, come back over here I'll show what I can really do with that h/c hair of yours."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel

#bilbo x reader #fili and kili #fili x oc #gandalf #kili imagine #the company #the hobbit kili #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #bofur the dwarf #the hobbit x y/n #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield fic #thorin fluff

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