#““The only reason you’re leaving here alive” he rumbled nodding his head over at you “is because she’s here.”” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 3 years

Text

Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

362 notes · View notes

hikarimiyanaga · 3 years

Note

how would the Dimitrescus(and Donna) react after finding out that their S/O is actually a God(maybe Thor and Loki's youngest sister) when both of them visit/scold us because they're worried after not hearing from us for so long #protectivebrothersmode

I didn't put any ship on my previous one since I had this on stand-by.

Am I getting faster writing on my phone? Maybe.

Do I still prefer physical keyboards? ALWAYS.

I still love writing this requests and crossovers.

1st Part

Alcina Dimitrescu / Lady Dimitrescu

You arrived at the Castle a year ago. Meaning it's been five years since you left your old world. You've been dating Alcina for over 6 months now. She just captured your attention when you arrived at the Castle and she attacked you. You weren't fazed, after all you were a Goddess.

Today was the day Hela was going to check in on you. You whip your phone out and go outside the castle. Hela answers and you could tell from her tone that she was nervous.

"Hela, why are you-? Did something happen?" You didn't want to go back but if there was an emergency situation then you would go. Gladly.

"No... Just both Thor and Loki are looking for you." You let that sink in for a few moments then you groan.

"Just tell them where I am. I'll wait for them." Hela agrees then you hang up. You look up at the sky and yawn as thunder can be heard from it.

"Miss Y/N. Are you going inside? I think there will be a storm." You shake your head at the Grand Chambermaid.

"There's no storm. That's just my brother." She tilts her head at your statement.

"Wha-" Just then a bolt of lightning strikes in the middle of the courtyard and Thor's figure emerges. You sigh.

"Hey, big brot-" You don't finish your greeting as you get attacked by Stormbreaker. You stop it with your hand. You grit your teeth. "Thor! What is-" Just then he strikes you with lightning. You shield yourself then hear the door behind you open. You knew that Alcina and her daughters have come out of the Castle.

"Y/N!? Who-" You lunge at Thor before he could even lay his eyes on Alcina. You notice for a split second that Loki is just watching on the sidelines and you growl. What is the meaning of this!?

"What is your problem!?" Thor holds out his hand and Stormbreaker comes to him.

"You! You are my problem!" He takes a step forward. "Why did you leave, Y/N? And why didn't you tell either me or Loki?" Now that pisses you off. They were both gone. Both you and Hela knew that they were alive, yes but shit their whereabouts? You absolutely had no idea. Were you worried? Of course, they were your brothers.

"Shut up!" The Earth rumbles as you shout. You hold out your hand and a sword forms. "You were both gone! You went to space! Loki travelled through time! So don't be a hypocrite!"

Thor stops at that but it was too late. You were already beginning your onslaught. He desperately defends himself from your vicious attacks.

You weren't the Goddess of War for no reason.

After wearing him out, you kick him over the edge. You hear his scream but knew that he was okay. You kick Stormbreaker in front of Loki who just smiles at you.

"Are you next?" He shakes his head and just goes to Alcina. You see Stormbreaker levitate so you hold out your hand as well. You knew Thor was trying to call it so you were trying to get him to you. The Stormbreaker stays in mid-air as Thor lands on the courtyard again. You stop your hold on the Stormbreaker so the ax hit Thor and he flew towards the gate.

Loki chuckles at your display. "You're really showing him, Y/N. Nice work." You glare at Loki who shrugs. You roll your eyes as you wait for Thor. "She really likes toying with him."

"And who exactly are you?" Alcina asks and Loki bows to her.

"I am Loki. God of Mischief and older brother of Y/N. The one she is fighting right now is also a brother of ours. The God of Thunder himself, Thor."

"I am Alcina Dimitrescu. One of the Four Lords of this Village." Loki nods then smiles at her.

"I am glad Y/N has found you, Lady Dimitrescu. It seems that she would do anything to protect you."

"What?"

"Earlier, if Thor had seen you, I would imagine he would strike you with lightning so Y/N lunged at him."

"Why would he strike me?" He chuckles.

"Because you are the only reason why my sister would stay here, no?"

Just then Thor lands in front of them and you were cracking your neck as you wield Stormbreaker.

"Thor, just stop this. We both know you can't win against Y/N." Thor scoffs at Loki then stands.

"I am her older brother! I can win!"

"Are you sure? Because she's kicking your ass right now and wielding your weapon." Thor splutters as you hold your fist out to Loki who bumps it with his own. You throw Stormbreaker in front of him.

"You're not even the King of Asgard anymore, brother. Give. It. Up." Thor sighs then nods. You roll your eyes then raise an eyebrow at him. "Now what in Father's name was that!? You see me then just attack me!? The fuck is wrong with you!?" He smiles then pats your head.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." That should have calmed you down. But instead it pissed you off even more. Your eye twitch then you use Stormbreaker to strike him with lightning. It doesn't affect him but it did make you feel better.

After that, you introduce the both of them to Alcina who is shocked but is pushing it down because she needs to look composed in front of your family. They leave for the day, but remind you that they'll check in too. You remind them to do it yearly, not monthly.

When they leave, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela immediately flock to you and ask you questions. You answer them.

At night, when you and Alcina were alone, you were nervous.

You never told her because you wanted to be treated as a normal human, not a Goddess that can either make or destroy stuff... which you can do but still.

"I'm really sorry." You say before she can even open her mouth. "I know I never told you, and I'm really sorry for that." You sigh. "I'm just so sick of being treated like I'm above others when... I just wanted to be treated like a normal person, that-" She doesn't let you finish as she kisses you. You blush as she smiles at you.

"So you're literally a Goddess." She purrs and you gulp. "I knew you were beautiful inside and out." She whispers and you shiver.

Did you let her sleep at all that night? No.

Donna Beneviento

You were with Donna when Hela had called. She even greeted Donna. It's been a year since you started dating her after all.

You and Donna were having tea when you heard a familiar sound. Thunder. You excuse yourself from Donna and she raises an eyebrow as you go outside. Angie follows you.

"Y/N! Why are you going outside?? Is it gonna rain??" You groan as you look back at Angie.

"No. But someone is coming." She tilts her head at you.

"Who??" You sigh as Thor and Loki land in front of you.

"My brothers." Angie looks at them with shock as you walk up to them.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" Thor hugs you and you free yourself from his grip.

"Got it, Thor! No need to squeeze! Damn it!"

"Y/N." Loki hugs you briefly and you smile at him. Donna opens the door and you three look at her.

"Y/N?" Thor pulls you behind him and you can't help but groan. Their overprotectiveness is showing again. "Who is this?" You quickly get in front of Donna and stop your brothers from doing anything.

"She's Donna Beneviento. She's my girlfriend." They look at each other then relax. You let them meet her.

When they both leave, both Donna and Angie look at you. You grin at them.

"Surprise?" Angie smacks you while Donna just holds your hand.

"TELL US NEXT TIME!" You agree then laugh as you get inside the house.

Bela Dimitrescu

You were just walking around the village with Bela when you hear the familiar sound of Thunder. You look up then groan.

"How the heck did they find me?" You hadn't even told Hela where you were. You pull Bela behind you as Thor and Loki lands in front of you.

"Y/N!" Thor tackles you so you push Bela out of the way. You land with a thud since your brother's strength is no joke. Loki looks at Bela and tilts his head.

"My, my Y/N." You look at Loki who is now helping Bela stand. "Control your powers, will you?" You blast Thor with said powers and fuss over Bela. She assures you that she's fine then you apologize profusely.

"Y/N?" You ignore Thor's call as he dusts himself off. "Who is that?" You sigh then turn to him at that. Right. Not even Hela knows who Bela is yet. Your relationship with her is new, after all.

"She's Bela Dimitrescu... I am currently courting her." You try to break it to them softly as the two can get very protective of you.

"Courting! Ah! Congratulations!" Thor pats your back and you endure through it while Loki just nods with a knowing smile.

You promise the both of them to check in once in a while and they both leave with a promise to get to know Bela better.

When they left, you feel Bela pinch you and you explain what you are... you know, a Goddess.

She squeals then drags you back to the Castle so you could tell her more.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You were sleeping with Cassandra outside on the courtyard so you don't even notice the sound of thunder from the sky.

Thor and Loki lands and you were still sound asleep... with another girl besides you.

Their voices were loud though so you rub your eyes open then see them still half-asleep. You smile as you sit and even Cassandra stirs awake.

"Thor! Loki! Morning." They both chuckle at you.

"I think it's already afternoon, Y/N." You shrug.

"What are you both doing here? Am I dreaming?" Thor laughs as Loki chuckles at you.

"We heard from Hela where you were... And since we haven't seen you in a long time.."

"You came to visit!? Nice!" You stand just as Cassandra sits on the spot you were both sleeping on.

"Y/N?" She asks and you turn to her with a smile.

"Cass. Morning." You kiss her and she smiles. "These two are my brothers." You gesture to Thor and Loki.

"I am Thor! God of Thunder." Cassandra stops at that then looks at you.

"And I am Loki. God of Mischief." Loki bows and she glares at you.

"Uhhh. Surprise??" She rolls her eyes then stands to introduce herself to them.

You all talked before your two brothers left.

Cassandra ignored you for the rest of the day. She doesn't like secrets and she would rather you tell her everything.

You spend the next few weeks, making it up to her. You just really hope she forgives you.

She does and you tell her everything about who you really are.

Daniela Dimitrescu

You were at the library with Daniela. She was telling you all about her favorite novels while you take notes in your mind so you would know what book you should get her.

When all of a sudden you hear a loud thunder. You tried to ignore it but your gut says otherwise. You excuse yourself then go outside and sure enough Thor and Loki were there. They were ready to attack Lady Alcina who was the first one to hear them, you guess.

You quickly go in front of her by jumping from the second floor. Thor stops at the sight of you and he hugs you. Daniela gets curious and looks from the second floor. She quickly gets down when she sees Thor hugging you.

You push him back and sigh.

"What are you both doing here?" They look at each other and was about to answer when a swarm of flies tackles you. You don't fall down but Daniela materializes behind you.

You look at her and she was glaring at Thor. She must be jealous. So you introduce them to her and Lady Alcina. They look at each other. You have brothers??

Thor laughs loudly as he roughly pats your back, singing praises of your 'adventures' as the Goddess of Water.

Adventures he exaggerated that's for sure.

You groan and promise to talk to them if they leave now. They both nod and remind that they'll check in as well.

You nod in defeat and sigh in relief when they left. You look back and see Daniela glaring at you while Alcina just smiles and gets inside.

You tell Daniela why and what you didn't tell her.

After that, you spend days and days, recalling everything from your adventures.

And spend every day right by her side.

A/N:

I- Can you guys guess who is my favorite?

Is it hard?

I am loving this ex-avenger/Goddess scenario. I think I'm going to write more on this.

Comments and thoughts are always welcome!

Thank you for reading!

If you can, please buy me a coffee.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #re #re fanfic #resident evil x marvel crossover #resident evil fanfic #resident evil village

261 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

Home To You - Ten

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.

Chapter Warnings: Aaaaand, they’re still idiots. Contains flangst.

WC: 3569

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,”

She wakes up to a soft voice ringing in her ear. It’s deep and gravelly, just slightly above a murmur. There’s also a feeling of something nuzzling against her temple. Hot breath fans over the side of her face, making her shiver - but in a good way.

“Wake up,” The voice whispers again, it’s smooth and soft, bathing her in warmth, making her feel less likely to want to burst the comfortable bubble she’s wrapped in so she doesn’t move.

“Nuh-uh,” She tilts her head, trying to bury her face deeper into the pillow.

There’s a rumbling sound from underneath her face, it resonates out of her pillow, and then it starts to shake as a chuckle sounds off of it. The sound is deep and scratchy, it makes her feel warm.

Oh.

It’s not a pillow at all, she realizes.

It’s Dean.

God, but he’s so soft and she feels so content. He’s better than all the pillows in the world.

“You should let me get up, I hear the nurses walking around outside.”

That’s the cue because all of a sudden, it all comes rushing back and she bolts up abruptly, knocking her head against his jaw in the process and sends him jolting back. Dean cups his face while groaning out painfully, cursing something intangible under his breath.

“Shit, Y/N, you wanna knock me out?”

She covers her mouth with one hand, muttering apologies and honestly, just trying her best not to burst out laughing too loud as Dean rolls himself off the bed. She absolutely hates the way he takes the warmth with him, and is already feeling colder as soon as he inches away.

He stops swearing after a while and begins to tie up his boots before standing up straight next to her bed, his hand moving to push her hair out of her face. “You’re still so hard to wake up, huh?”

The memories come back to her. Memories of her mornings at the Winchester’s house where Sam and Dean would fight about who has to wake her up because apparently, she’s a grump in the mornings. Dean always lost to Sam at rock paper scissors and it took him a while to know how best to wake her up, starting with a ten-foot pole, and soon enough, he figured that the best way was to just sit right at the bed with a mug of hot coffee in his hand.

She’s not allowed to have coffee right now, and knowing that actually makes her grumpier. She scrunches her nose, “Yeah, well, you’d be happy to know that some things never change.”

“I’m glad they don’t.” He grins. It’s the grin she loves. All bashful and with a slight hint of boyish charm. It makes him look a lot younger. It definitely suits him, it makes her think that he’s just a man who hasn’t seen death and isn’t trying to carry the weight of the world on his own. “Listen, I-”

Before Dean can finish his sentence, the nurse bursts in.

“Good morn-,” The woman who she has gotten to know as Carmen chirps before stalling upon seeing Dean standing there, “-ing,” The brunette nurse finishes and tilts her head down a little. A bright shade of crimson is visible on her face, her mouth curving into a shy grin. Carmen takes a moment to gather herself before she looks back up, “You’re still here,” She states and Y/N just knows that the statement is not directed at her.

Dean smiles warmly at the nurse, “Yeah,”

There’s something that bubbles inside of her, rising from the pit of her stomach to her chest and she doesn’t know what it is but she doesn’t really like it. Trying to push that feeling away, she forces a smile of her own.

Carmen just nods at Dean as she walks closer to the bed, probably realizing that she has a job to do. Dean moves to the window, looking out while he lets the nurse check up on her.

“Before we bring breakfast, the doctor will be here,” the brunette informs her and she sighs. Carmen then turns to Dean, “Would you like something as well, Dean?”

Oh, so they on a first name basis? She must have looked dumbfounded and of course Dean notices because he always does.

He clears his throat before he speaks to her before even answering Carmen’s question, which somehow makes the jealousy less obtrusive, “Yeah, I came in last night and Carmen was here,” he explains, even though he doesn’t need to. She nods and only then does he turn to the nurse still waiting for him to answer her, “I’m good, thank you. I’ll grab a coffee later.”

The brunette doesn’t seem to be fazed that he took longer to get back to her and now that he did, her face goes tomato red again. Y/N’s used to seeing that. She’s used to knowing what effect Dean has on women and apparently, he still does have that same effect. Things haven't changed at all.

Carmen walks out after doing her work and Dean comes to stand close enough so Y/N can elbow him in the ribs.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Duh,” She grins bravely, hiding her true feelings because it has no room here. “She’s obviously into you.”

Dean frowns before cocking an eyebrow, “You think?”

“Jesus, did you not watch the show that just happened?” She smiles teasingly. The smile doesn’t really reach her eyes but she doesn’t think Dean notices, “Maybe you should ask if she wants to go for a drink?”

He looks down to his feet, seemingly in thought. She can see his mouth working from him biting on something on the inside of his cheek. Dean licks his lips before he shakes his head to look up at her, “I’m here for you, Y/N.” His hand comes up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His words make her face warmer too, which she hopes he doesn’t notice.

“And I didn’t tell you to.” She replies, knowing full well that she’s been unreasonable, but it’s the truth. She doesn’t want him to worry, and least of all, she doesn’t want him to think that she’s another burden to him. If anything, Dean deserves to have a slice of happiness of his own.

“Oh, so, you want me to leave you here and go on a date with Carmen?” He raises his voice a little, which stuns her. Dean normally never raises his voice at her, only when they’re bickering but then they know that neither of them really mean it.

“I’m just saying-”

“What?” He cuts in, more agitated now, “That I will abandon people I love to go on a date with a girl in the short time I get to be with you?”

His words hit her a little too hard and she’s momentarily speechless while her heart is beating a little faster. The pain in her head comes back and she has to squint her eyes as she lifts her hand to her temple. Dean’s quick to rush the two steps forward and laying his hand on hers, “You okay? God, that’s a dumb question, of course you’re not.”

“You love me?” She asks, because those were the words that stuck.

Dean’s jaw drops a little and he licks his lips, the pink in his ears showing, which she thinks is absolutely adorable. He always gets the most color there. “Yeah, of course. You’re family, Y/N.”

Yeah, she’s family, just like he is hers. They will never be more than that. The thought just about shatters her heart.

Before she can dwell on the disappointment that is spreading and clearly taking heavy roots in her guts. She doesn't even realize that Dean has his forehead leaned on her temple until he jumps apart from her when there’s a knock at the door.

“I’m sorry,” Carmen says and smiles shyly at both of them as she walks in with a fresh jug of water, “The doctor will be here in about five minutes,”

“Okay,” She nods at the nurse and looks at Dean to direct the next question to him, “When will Sam be here?”

“He told me he’s going to pop in before his first lecture at 9 AM,” Dean flips his wrist to look at the watch. He’s still wearing the same one, the one she and Sam got him for his twenty-first birthday. The thought of him holding on to simple gifts makes her smile. “He should be here any minute.”

“Right,”

“Just ring me should you need anything, okay?” Carmen says, already halfway out of the door.

“We will,” Dean replies for both of them and she keeps on looking at him, glaring even. He sighs before he rolls his eyes. Looking back at her after his eye roll, he lifts his eyebrows and she just jerks her head in the direction of the door and grins, although she doesn’t feel like grinning at all at this moment. He sighs again before he speaks, “Actually, Carmen,”

Y/N watches as the nurse turns around, and when Carmen speaks, she sounds hopeful. “Yeah?” The woman’s lips curl up into a bright smile while her eyebrows climb up her forehead in anticipation.

“Um-,” Dean half mumbles and sends Y/N a last look. She doesn’t falter, at least she hopes her grin doesn’t falter, but the corner of her lips starts to twitch uncomfortably from the strain so she stops grinning but winks at him instead, her way of telling him to go forward. He frowns at first but then his whole demeanor changes, his eyes a little cold towards her. Not that she can dwell on them too much because Dean turns away from her to look at the brunette instead, “Let me walk you out,”

She watches him sending her another look. She’d like to say one that is less cold but actually, it turns icy before he turns his back on her, following Carmen out. It honestly makes her feel crushed but she guesses that she brought it upon herself.

Not allowed to get out of bed, there’s nothing else to do for her other than staying behind, and to pass the time she looks out of the window while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Of course, she doesn’t want to share Dean with another girl, but what can she really do about it? He said it himself. She’s family. There’s no way Dean sees her the way she sees him and who is she if she doesn’t want him to be happy?

“Hey you,” Sam sticks his head through the door, wearing his dimpled smile as he strides in afterward to walk to the bed. He wraps her up into a bone-crushing embrace. She takes the time to breathe him in. “How are you holding up? Jess will come later, she has a meeting with her professor.”

“Of course, I forgot that life is still going on even if I’m not a part of it.”

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N,” Sam sits down on the empty chair next to her bed, “But I think you have to sit this semester out. There’s no way I will let you worry your head.”

She has to grin at that. “That’s okay, I don’t even know if I want to continue, Sam.”

“What do you mean?”

She stares at her hands that she has folded in her lap, “I came here to be your cheerleader, remember? I don’t need to study, I don’t think I even need to work for the rest of my life.”

It’s not a lie. Her parent’s house is hers, they have left enough money for her to be comfortable, and last but not least, there was the insurance money and from the lawsuit her uncle started in order to get the maximum out of her tragedy after her parents passed away. She has enough money and if she keeps on living as she does, it will last her a long time. Long enough for her to figure out what she really wants out of life and a little beyond, probably.

“You’re awfully bad at sitting still, though.” He chuckles, which again, is true. Sam lays his hand on top of hers. They’re incredibly large, her hands looking ridiculous in comparison.

“I don’t know…” She starts, “I just might go back home, would that be okay?”

“Why?”

“I hate it here.” It blurts out of her and to her surprise, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, why don’t you?” Sam’s full-on laughing, but when it dies down and he looks at her, he sees that she’s not joking. “You know I can’t leave until I graduate, right? I’m still stuck here and maybe, just maybe, if I study hard then I can get out sooner.”

“Sam,” He lays her hand on top of his, “I’m not telling you so that you will come back with me. Your place is here, at least for the time being and until you get your degree. And I’m not even saying that I’m leaving tomorrow. Right now, I just want to take one day at a time.”

“First of all,” the younger Winchester smirks, “How dare you think that I would want you to be all on your own. And second?” He smiles now, “One day at a time sounds about right to me. We’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

She nods. Somehow she really wants to believe that they will be.

Dean slips in before the doctor. He pauses at the door and takes a look at his brother and Y/N.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

“Where were you?” Sam asks, skillfully dodging Dean’s question and she doesn’t know if it’s the residue of animosity still resting inside his bones that he doesn’t want to tell Dean everything that worries him yet.

His brother seems to sense Sam’s reluctance not to answer, of course Dean does. Nothing really gets past him, but she’s glad that he doesn’t pry. Dean never does when it comes to Sam, knowing that his brother will talk when he wants to.

“Did you get her number?” Y/N jumps in before Dean can even start to open his mouth to answer Sam’s question.

Dean groans out audibly before he sits on another empty chair that’s propped against the wall on the opposite side of her bed. He’s too far away, and somehow she wishes that he was closer like last night.

“Yeah,” He answers her question but it doesn’t sound like he’s super happy about it, “Are you happy now?”

No, is what she thinks. “Yes,” is what she says and surprises herself by being able to curve her lips up into a small smile.

“You what?” Sam’s nose scrunches a little in irritation. “You asked some girl for their number? Here? While Y/N’s waiting for surgery?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He’s taking Sam’s anger with a squared chest and his chin held high, and she sees that he’s zoning out. She’s seen that posture before, whenever his dad took the anger out on Dean instead of on them even though it wasn’t Dean’s fault.

Instead of answering, Dean just looks at Y/N and his eyes change, giving in to blankness.

“Sam, it’s nothing.” She says, trying to calm the younger Winchester down. “I told him to.” She explains.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Dean mutters under his breath but it wasn’t said with any malice. He leans his head against the wall and sighs heavily and she can’t help but think that he looks exhausted. She wonders if he did get any sleep at all.

She worries her lips, hoping that it isn’t her that keeps him awake, it’s the last thing she wants to do after he makes the journey back to be here for her. Before she can ask or even apologize the doctor who’s been examining her the whole of yesterday comes in to greet them.

His gaze flickers to Dean whom he obviously hasn’t seen yesterday. “And you are?”

Dean stands up, making himself straighter, puffing his chest out a little, and holds his hand out for the doctor to shake, “Dean Winchester, sir.”

“Ah, you must be Sam’s brother.”

“That, I am.”

“So, I guess the whole family is here now, right?” The doctor’s gaze flickers around the room and she nods.

He begins to explain his findings and what’s going to happen.

Somehow, though, her brain turns off. She hears everything but she doesn’t let it get under her skin. She heard how he said that there are multiple aneurysms. There’s someone muttering in the back too, saying “Shit!”. Her brain doesn’t register who it was, her guess is on Dean, though. She heard how the doctor said that the chances that anything happening is slim but it’s there but that if they don’t operate, she doesn’t have a chance of surviving once they burst. It’s like a ticking bomb in her head, ready to go off at any time. She tunes the rest out, staring holes into the air. Suddenly, her feet under the thin hospital blanket are so much more interesting to look at.

“I’ll see you in surgery at 2 PM,” The doctor nods at her.

Y/N can’t answer, waits for the weight of the knowledge to settle down.

“I can’t eat anything, right?” She looks at both men who are left in her room. Maybe it’s the shock sitting inside her but she feels very hungry and it’s the only thing she can think about, which again, is absolutely weird.

“I’m sorry,” Dean answers the question and steps closer, leaning his hands on the mattress and nuzzles his forehead against her temple. She doesn’t really know what he’s sorry for, but Dean answers the question in her thoughts for her, “About everything, you don’t deserve this.”

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, fingers rubbing over his scruff, “It’s not your fault.”

“Well, it isn’t yours either.”

She nods in understanding and Dean places a chaste kiss on her temple. They were both a little lost in the moment when she’s brought back to reality by Sam’s sniffing.

God, Sam. It’s harder on him than on her.

Dean seems to know too, steps aside to make room for Sam. The younger brother doesn’t hesitate, his hand finding the back of her neck to guide her towards him. He kisses her cheek, lingers there longer than needed but it’s necessary.

“I’ll be back after lunch, okay?”

“You don’t have to,”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” Sam sniffs again before taking a step back and she does her best to ignore the tears in his eyes. She can’t look at them, knowing that she would break down instantly.

“You should take Dean with you, get him cleaned up at my apartment.” She suggests.

“Why, you wanna get rid of me, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is teasing, trying to ease the air filled with uncertainty.

“Ya, you stink, man.” Sam grabs his brother’s shoulder and she doesn’t know if it’s the first time they touched since what seems like forever, but from the way Dean tenses up, she guesses that it is. He recovers quickly, though, the tenseness giving way to softness.

Dean just cocks one eyebrow, eyes flicking to her as if to ask if that’s true. The tip of his ear showed a soft pink shade. She grins and he shakes his head. He doesn’t or maybe she’s biased. She likes how he smelled last night. Pine and musk and something that’s just Dean. Something a home is made out of.

“Come on,” Sam shoulders past Dean, waits at the door because Dean hesitates. “She’s in good hands.” Sam reminds his brother.

“You really want me gone?” Dean turns to her, crossing his arms over his chest and she tries not to look at how the material of his shirt stretches awfully tight over his shoulders and arms.

“You should go get breakfast. You can take a shower, even take a nap in bed if you want. Mi casa es su casa.” She smiles, “Sam has a key, fresh towels are in the bathroom. The shower is warm and has great water pressure.”

“K,” He nods, his eyes light up a little at the prospect of a warm shower. Guess there are not many of those out in the desert. He bends down, kisses the crown of her head and moves to rest his forehead on hers, “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

She bites on her bottom lip, he’s so close and all she actually wants to do right now is to move forward and kiss him. It would be so easy. She’s been thinking about his lips a ridiculous amount of time. Wonders if they feel as good as they look. Y/N knows that she can't, that's why all she says is “Okay, I’ll be here.” And laughs lamely.

“Behave,” He chuckles, pressing another kiss to her temple before he bends down to retrieve his bag from the floor.

Eleven

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#home to you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #solider!dean #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

203 notes · View notes

tulsa-trash · 3 years

Text

Night of the Rumble

WARNING(S): Swearing, mentions of violence.

Its been four hours, four excruciating hours you waited for him to call you. He attended a rumble tonight, and he promised he’d call you after to let you know he was okay. So far there has been no phone call and your anxiety was eating you alive.

A part of you wanted to go and watch just so you could know if he was okay; but then you knew you wouldn’t be able to watch him get hurt. Plus he wouldn’t let you go anyway, he didn't want you to get hurt. You laid in your bed and stared at your ceiling, there was no way you could sleep. You looked over at your alarm clock and sighed deeply when you realized it was now two-thirty in the morning.

Your mind was racing with thoughts. Is he okay? Where is he? Why hasn’t he called me yet? You were losing your mind and on on the edge of flipping out. You ran your hands over your face roughly and groaned in frustration, you couldn’t take it anymore. The suspense was killing you and you were so damn worried about him it hurt.

Your phone began to ring loudly, making you shoot up and answer it within a millisecond.

“Hello!?” Your voice rushed out into the receiver.

You heard a quiet groan before the voice spoke, “Hey, baby girl.”

Steve's voice was dry and hoarse, he sounded like he was in pain which made the fear you already felt rise within you. Thankfully he was at least alive and breathing.

“Oh my goodness, Steve. You scared the sh*t out of me! Are you okay?” You asked.

There was silence on his end for a moment, “I’m fine. Really you don’t have to worry about me, Y/N.”

“Steve you sound horrible, I know you’re not okay. What the hell happened at that damned rumble?”

He chuckled but then groaned once more, “Don’t worry, the other guys are in way worse condition than me.”

You rolled your eye’s but a ghost of a smirk found its way to your lips. He still managed to boast to you in this dire situation.

“Babe where are you? I really want to see you.” You said softly.

“B-Believe me you really don’t.” He stuttered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean? Steve, I’ve been worried sick about you all night! I wanna see you!”

He went silent again, except this time for a while. The only thing you could hear was him breathing and the faint sound of other voices in the background. He was definitely at the Curtis house.

“Steve?”

You could hear him hum in response.

“Why don’t you want me to see you?” You asked, hurt evident in your tone.

He sighed, “Darlin', please don’t be sad. The main reason I don’t want you seein’ me is because I don’t want you to be upset.”

You scoffed, "I’m goin’ over there right now.”

“What!?” He exclaimed.

You got up off your bed and began to look around for an outfit, but not going far since your phone cord was not long at all.

“I’m gonna see you whether you like it or not.” You stated as you picked up a pair of jeans off the floor and slipped them on.

“How do you even know where I am?” He asked.

“I can hear the gang in the background, Steve. I’m not stupid.”

“Please don’t.” He begged into the phone.

“Nope, I’m comin'.” You said sternly.

“I don’t want you out at this time of night, Y/N. Somethin’ bad can happen I don’t want ya out on your lonesome.”

“I’m taking my parents car and driving over there right now. See you in a few.”

Before he could protest any longer you hung up, quickly throwing on a decent looking shirt and a coat. You quietly snuck down stairs and grabbed your shoes along with the keys on the way out. You were going to see him no matter what.

You knocked hard on the Curtis’ front door, you heard the chatter die down before Sodapop answered. He had a giant bruise on his left cheek and a busted lip, but he still managed to send you his classic movie star smile.

“Jesus, Soda.” You breathed out.

“I’m fine, really. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He tried to reassure you.

“Steve is here, right?” You asked worriedly.

His best friend began to laugh, “Yeah, he’s hidin’ in the bathroom.”

He moved so he could let you by and without a word you rushed past everyone to the bathroom. The door was closed, you tried opening it but to your dismay it was locked.

You lightly knocked on the door, “Steve? It’s Y/N. Can you unlock the door?”

“No.” You heard his gruff voice mumble from the other side.

You rolled your eyes, “Steve, I came all this way at two in the mornin’ to see you and you’re just gonna hide from me?”

“Yeah…” He replied.

You were beginning to get frustrated with him, you stayed up worrying all night only for him to shut you out.

“Steve…” You whimpered. “Please, let me in.”

He was breaking your heart by refusing you like this. You didn’t understand why he was scared for you to see him. He didn’t answer you at all and soon the feeling of being unwanted was washing over you.

“Whatever.” You sniffled and began to walk towards the door.

Before you even took more than three steps the bathroom door swung open. His hand grabbed your arm, stopping you. He gently tugged you into the bathroom and closed the door behind the both of you.

He kept his gaze on the ground, not wanting to face you. You looked him up and down, his clothes were completely covered in mud and his exposed skin was covered in cuts and bruises.

“Look at me.” You pleaded.

He slowly turned his head up to reveal his beat up face, you couldn't help but literally gasp. The sight of him made big fat tears roll down your cheeks, you covered your mouth try and hold in the loud sobs that escaped past your lips.

His nose was most definitely broken, it was somewhat crooked and fresh blood was trickling down onto his lips. And just like Sodapop, he had a busted lip and a bruised cheek.

He pulled you in for a bone crushing hug, you returned the affection by tightly wrapping your arms around his neck. You cried into his neck while he gently rubbed your back up and down soothingly.

“Shh, please don’t cry.” He whispered into your hair. "See, this is exactly why I ain't want you to come by. I don't like seein' you like this."

"Me!? What about you!?" You wailed into his shoulder. "You gotta stop with the fightin' Steve. It's goin' too far. Look at you!"

He stayed silent as he continued to hold your shaking body in his arms. He felt terrible, the last thing he wanted was to make you upset.

He pulled away from the hug to hold your face with his two large hands, wiping away stray tears with the pads of his thumbs. He stood there, looking into your tear filled eyes as you looked right back into his. He had wondered how he got so lucky to have you, and he was so scared of losing you.

“You can leave me if ya want.” He whispered.

It was only then you had noticed his once crooked tooth had disappeared from his mouth.

“Why would I leave you?” You asked him skeptically.

“Because I’m hideous.” He chuckled dryly.

His calloused hands dropped from your face to grip the sink so he could lean back on it. He really did mean it, he'd understand if you wanted to run away. He's a lot of work, and on top of that he believed he was even more odd looking than before. He wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to be with him anymore.

“You didn’t want me here because you were afraid I was gonna see your beat up face and break up with you?” You asked.

He nodded, a tint of pink began to creep up onto his cheeks. Steve had never felt so embarrassed and vulnerable in his life. You on the other hand, thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Oh, Steve.” You cooed.

You stood up on your tippy toes and gently took his face in your hands, careful not to press hard on any of his wounds. You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his busted lip. He kept his arms at his sides and didn’t even muster up enough strength to kiss you back.

“Why would you wanna look at me when I’m like this? Or why would you wanna kiss me when I’m missin’ my front tooth lookin’ like a damn five year old. I never understood how you’d kiss me before with my snaggletooth never mind now.” He spoke against your lips.

You pulled away buy but kept your hands on his bruised cheeks, he finally wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you against him.

“Why are you thinkin’ like this, Steve?” You questioned him.

“I-I just…” He trailed off. He seemed to be at a loss for words, unsure of how to explain himself any further.

“I just don’t wanna lose you.” He whispered.

Your heart swelled at his words, this boy really did care about you a lot. There was no way you were going to let him go. Steve on the other hand was a nervous wreck, expressing himself made him feel completely mortified.

“I guess I’m just a p*ssy, huh?” He grumbled.

“No you’re not!” You hushed him. “Steve, caring about someone doesn’t make you a p*ssy. Look, you’re not gonna lose me. Even if you wanted to I’m not goin’ anywhere, ya hear?”

He smiled widely, showing off the brand new gap in his teeth.

“And I’m not gonna lose you either, right?” You asked him.

He shook his head, “Never.”

You loved his crooked teeth and his big nose, hell you loved everything about him. He was perfectly imperfect, nothing was going to stop you from loving him with every fiber of your being.

“I’m still pretty sure you’re gonna leave me after a week of kissin’ a toothless Steve.” He said.

“Nope, I think its hot.” You winked at him, “It makes you look real tuff.”

“Of course you’d think that.” He laughed.

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fic #the outsiders fandom #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders steve #the outsiders x reader #steve randle #steve randle imagine #steve randle x reader #steve randle fanfiction #steve imagine #steve x reader #tom cruise

350 notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 3,324 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 6 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl worries about Y/N after the traumatic incident outside the wall.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl didn’t see you that whole day after he had talked with Rick, or the next morning so he decided to pay you a visit and make sure you were okay. He wiped his hands on the rag he always kept in his back pocket and put away the tools he had been using to work on his bike. Just as he was getting ready to leave, Aaron stepped out into the garage and Daryl greeted him with a nod.

“Done for the day?”

Daryl shrugged. “For now at least.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, uhh, ya seen Y/N since that night we got back?”

Aaron’s face fell a bit but he nodded. “I stopped by her place yesterday.”

Daryl leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d she seem?”

Aaron shrugged and sighed heavily. “She seemed… okay. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he said a little hesitantly. He shook his head, frowning. “The bruising on her neck… it’s bad. Thank God you were there.”

Daryl’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Ya… Well, the whole thing was bad. Those people? Seemed like—” he hesitated to say what was on his mind, to confide in Aaron, but he also felt like it was eating him alive. Maybe if he spoke it, he would feel less consumed by it. “It seemed like they knew her.”

Aaron’s brow drew down low over his eyes. “Hmm. What do you mean?”

“I heard ‘em say she was comin’ ‘back where she belongs.’ And more than that—if they had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. They both had guns and knives on ‘em. But they didn’t. They were tryin’ ta take her.”

The shadow on Aaron’s face deepened and he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and mouth. “Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that the intentions of some men out there in this world are even more emboldened now,” he said with disgust.

“Yeah… But ain’t the first time neither. That night I stitched up that gash in her arm she said the same thing. She said ‘if they had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.’”

Aaron gulped and shook his head. ��I don’t know what—I just—I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “She hasn’t told me much about before.”

Daryl turned back to the table and fiddled with some of the parts. “Seems like she’s got a target painted on her. Maybe she shouldn’t be out,” he thought aloud.

Aaron shook his head. “Yeah, well that will never happen. Trying to keep her inside Alexandria is like trying to hold water in your hands. We’d probably have to lock her up.” He sighed heavily again and rested his hands on his hips. “Whatever is out there, whatever her past is… she knows the risks of going out. There isn’t going to be any convincing her to stay inside.”

Daryl nodded and chewed the side of his thumbnail. “Ya…”

Aaron let out a wry laugh. “I mean, can you imagine if someone told you that you needed to stay inside?”

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched upwards. “Ya. I know. Ain’t happenin’.” Daryl sighed. “Well, I guess the only thing for it is to try to convince her not to go alone.”

Aaron smiled at the archer. “Sounds reasonable. Know anyone for the job?” he joked. Daryl shot him a look and Aaron laughed and held his hands up. “See you later, Daryl.”

Daryl hummed an acknowledgement, set down the part he’d been anxiously fiddling with, and headed out of the garage in the direction of your house.

He felt a bit nervous as he climbed the stairs on your front porch, noticing how clammy his palms suddenly felt, and when first he knocked there was a long silence. He wondered if you were going to answer the door at all and a distinct worry seized him—that you really weren’t okay. But, finally, he could hear some soft footsteps approaching the other side of the door and then it opened a crack.

You peeked out hesitantly but as soon as you saw it was Daryl you opened the door wide. “Daryl. Hi.”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

Aaron was right. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders were somewhat slumped.

You continued to peer at him, waiting for some explanation for why he was standing there at your door.

“I, uhh—I hadn’t seen ya since we got back. Just wanted to see if ya needed anything. Ya know, and see how you’re healin’ up.”

“Oh. That’s—you want to come in?” you offered stepping back to make way for his broad-shouldered frame.

“Thanks,” Daryl murmured as he crossed the threshold. You shut the door behind him and he followed you up the hall and into the kitchen. He could see a pillow and blanket laid out on the couch in the living room. It looked like you’d been camping out there. He gave you a questioning glance. “So, how ya feelin’?” Daryl’s eyes found the dark bruising around your neck.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you said a little quietly.

He considered you thoughtfully for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure?”

You sighed heavily and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Yeah. I just—haven’t slept really,” you admitted.

Daryl nodded, looking again at the makeshift bed in your living room. “Ya camping out down here?”

You followed him as he trailed over to peer at the blankets spilling off the couch and onto the floor. “Uhh… sort of. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help.” And you had the thought that if you were on the ground floor, you’d hear someone trying to break into your house…

“Did it?” he asked, his blue eyes finding yours.

“Not really.”

The archer’s brow drew down, veiling his eyes in shadow, and he let out a hum of acknowledgement. “Ya know if having other people around would help, ya could—” he cleared his throat again, his heart racing, “ya could come stay over at our place. We’ve got a full house. Ya know, if—if it’d feel safer. Ya could take my bed. It’s in the basement away from everybody.” He watched your eyelashes flutter as you looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh. I can’t—that—that’s okay,” you said, averting your eyes back down toward your feet.

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he offered up his second idea, nervously rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I—I could stay over here. Just to, ya know, keep an eye on things. If it’d help.” Your eyes lifted back up to his face again and there was that vulnerability in your eyes again that always surprised him. He watched as your lips parted slightly as you prepared to speak.

“I can’t—I can’t ask you to do that,” you said softly, quickly averting your eyes from the sudden softness in his and fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“Ya ain’t askin’. I offered,” he said. “If ya think it’d help ya get some sleep. You’re healin’ up. Ya need it.”

You glanced up at him again, now your expression was somewhat guarded as you took him in. You gulped at the nervous lump in your throat. “They aren’t gonna miss you over there?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nah,” he said.

You watched him for a long moment, considering his offer, but at length you nodded, remembering how well you had slept with him nearby even outside of Alexandria’s walls. Since you’d gotten back the nightmares had returned and gotten worse, likely a result of your latest encounter. “Okay. If—if you don’t mind.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered at the grateful look you gave him, your eyes fixed on him and only him. He nodded. “I dun mind.” He nudged his nose up at you twice in a nod. “I’ll come by later.” You watched as he stalked into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You watched him pull it open and look inside before glancing back over his shoulder at you.

He closed the door pointedly. “Just what I thought. Ain’t got no damn food in here either. Ya been eatin’?”

You gulped and shrugged vaguely.

“Ya, uh huh. I’ll bring somethin’ later. Ya need to eat,” he rumbled. He started to stride quickly to the front door and you trailed a little behind him. He stopped on the threshold and looked back at you. There was that softness in his eyes again that always made your heart jump. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

You avoided his eyes, feeling suddenly silly and ashamed of what you were asking him to do, that you needed someone else when you tried so hard not to need anyone or anything. His deep voice, rough with gravel called your eyes back to his.

“Hey. It ain’t no big deal. Alright?” he said, trying to reassure you, reading the shame on your face as clearly as if the word had been tattooed on your forehead.

You nodded a little, giving in to his reassurance. “Okay.”

“’Kay,” he agreed. You watched him cross the porch and go down your stairs, headed back home. That’s what he had. A home. It hit you that all you really had was an empty house and your heart ached. It was the price you paid for trying to keep almost everyone at arm’s length. You sighed heavily and shut the door.

Several hours later, there was another knock on the front door. You got up from your spot on the couch, still carrying your book and went to the door. Daryl was standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a small container in his hands. Night had fallen outside and the porchlights illuminated the strong angles of his jaw. You felt a flush in your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t see it.

You stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

“Brought ya some stew. Venison. We’ve still got a bunch of it,” he said, heading immediately for the kitchen and starting to open cabinets, looking for a pot to dump it in so he could heat it up. “And you’re eatin’ some of this now.” He paused and looked up at you over the counter. “When is the last time ya ate?”

“Uhh…”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “Too damn long, then.” He resumed his searching and eventually succeeded. He set it on the stove to heat up. You sank down onto one of the kitchen stools at the island, watching him as he stirred the hearty meal. Daryl turned around and took in your expression from across the kitchen, slinging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it hang at his side.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. “Oh, uhh… it’s just this classic novel. The Brothers Karamazov.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “The what?”

You actually smiled at him, your whole face lighting up. Daryl felt his heart flutter and he was relieved to see that some of the weight that seemed to be on you was lifted, even if just for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful,” you said. “I’ve got this thing for the great Russian writers so…”

“Russian, huh? What’s so special about ‘em?”

“They just—I don’t know. They write these beautiful, insane, touching, tragic stories. I just—” you shrugged. “The writing is incredible, even in translation.” You paused thoughtfully and Daryl felt a warmth in his chest as you looked down at the novel in your hand and smoothed your hand over the cover, staring at it like it was something precious. “And I suppose now, since the world changed, the tragedy in the stories is even more relatable,” you said softly.

Daryl felt a pang in his heart at your words. Your eyes flitted back up to meet his and he felt a spark of electricity jump up his spine.

Daryl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and hoisted his crossbow up onto the counter, using it as an excuse to break eye contact with you as he felt suddenly terrified of the magnetic pull he was feeling.

“What’d you tell everybody?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t look up from the bolt he was examining closely. “Didn’t tell ‘em nothin’.”

“Won’t they worry about where you are?”

He shrugged. “Nah. S’fine.” He quickly turned back to the stew on the stove which now had curls of steam rising from the surface of it. He pulled open some more cabinets until he found a bowl and quickly poured stew from the pan into it before setting it in front of you. He opened drawers until he found a spoon, which he slid over to you with a metallic clinking against the granite of the countertop. You were giving him a queer look. “What?”

You shook your head, one corner of your mouth twitching up. “Nothing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed. “Eat,” he drawled.

The corners of your eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re awfully bossy today,” you joked, picking up the spoon. You stared down into the stew, not feeling the least bit hungry despite not eating anything all day.

He let out a scoff and leaned on his forearms on the counter, his curtain of brown hair falling forward around his face. “I’m bossy when someone needs bossin’,” he quipped.

You took a bite of the stew, holding the spoon a bit awkwardly with the brace on your wrist, and chewed it slowly. Daryl watched you carefully. The smile on your face had disappeared again and he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the bruises on your neck. He felt a renewed flush of hot anger every time. He sighed and straightened up, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit.

“How’re your ribs feelin’?” he drawled.

You dipped your spoon back into the bowl of stew and shrugged. “Fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded, but you could tell he was a little skeptical. He moved around the counter and into the living room, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. You dutifully sat and ate your stew until it was gone before going to join him with your book. You pushed the blankets on the couch out of the way and allowed yourself to watch the nimble workings of his strong fingers as he fiddled with his bow and the narrowing of his blue eyes in concentration. Your heart increased its pace. Finally, you broke the silence again. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. You hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it had, the tightness in your throat from shame and nerves strangling your voice a little.

The workings of Daryl’s fingers ceased for a moment and he looked like he was frozen, turned to stone. “I dun mind,” he finally said. His blue eyes lifted and met yours and briefly he thought he saw some glistening light there, but in a moment he had blinked and it was gone. You were simply pulling the blanket over your lap and running your fingers along the spine of your book. Daryl pulled out a sharpening stone and went about carefully sharpening some of his bolts. You settled back against the couch and opened your book, curled up beneath the blanket. It was strange how usual, how comfortable this felt. Each passing moment of silence, each murmur to one another, each question and response all felt so easy, and that was something Daryl kept turning over and over in his mind. He wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to feeling so at home around another person and it was becoming a habit with you. The thought made him bounce his knee nervously.

Daryl wasn’t sure when, but at some point as he sat across from you sharpening his bolts you had drifted off to sleep. Your book was still open but had dropped down onto your chest, your left hand resting on it. Your breathing was slow and deep and Daryl felt a wave of warmth and gladness wash over him that you were actually asleep. And he wondered at the fact that not only were your comfortable enough with him around to fall asleep, but he was what enabled you to when you otherwise couldn’t. Did you think of him as safety? God, he hoped so… He was puzzling over this, smoothing his thumb across his lower lip as he took in your soft expression and the way your hair was falling around your face.

He felt his heart speed up as his eyes traced the gentle pout of your mouth and the slope of your nose in profile. He rubbed a hand at the warm and achy feeling in his chest that was becoming common, annoyed at how his mind was running away on him...

The archer stood and silently crossed the room to you. He grasped one corner of your open book and slipped it gently from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket up over you before retreating back to his chair and his bow.

You awoke as the sun was coming up, lighting the living room slowly, drenching everything in warm light. You blinked a few times, getting your bearings, and then gingerly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your eyes landed on the archer, asleep in his chair with his head cocked to one side, his bow leaning up against the armrest next to him. He must have heard you stirring because he was awake the next instant, taking in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes meeting yours. “Hey.” The gravel in his voice was thick, heavy with sleep still.

“Hey,” you replied. Daryl was relieved to see how much brighter your eyes looked. The dark circles beneath them were also diminished.

“I didn’t—I slept,” you said with gentle surprise.

He nodded. “Ya. Ya were exhausted. Ya fell asleep early. Ya needed it,” he said, grabbing his crossbow and pulling it onto his lap, his heart rushing at the sight of your somewhat tousled hair and the rosy glow in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded and stood, throwing his bow over his shoulder again. “S’nothin’. Glad ya got some sleep.”

You pulled yourself up, subconsciously wrapping an arm around your ribs as they panged with the movement. Daryl was already heading through the kitchen and toward the front door. He stopped and his blue eyes fixed on your face. “Ya know, I get ‘em too sometimes,” he said quietly.

You heart raced. Had he guessed why you weren’t sleeping so easily? “What?”

“Nightmares,” he said. “About the people we’ve lost. About losing more.”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see ya later, Y/N,” he drawled. He pointed at you sharply. “Eat some more of that damn stew.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You got it.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon series #sacrifice

473 notes · View notes

lovesupernova25 · 3 years

Text

Broken Glass

a Quackity Oneshot

warnings: torture (non-explicit), blood, insanity, brief alcohol

i sat down at my computer, blacked out, looked up at 3 am and this was here. please enjoy. (idea from this one comment on this one tiktok that suggested that quackity uses the shape shifting powers some people hc him to have to torment dream. i’ll see if i can find the tiktok!)

~~~ *** ~~~

Quackity knew what broken glass felt like. He knew how it felt slicing up his hands, his face, being kissed into his skin. But this was the first time he knew what it felt like in his soul. Yeah- that's what this feeling was.

Broken glass.

Quackity didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps getting closer. He knew who it was already. No one else would be in this wasteland he’d built, anyways. No one was ever here.

“Q?” The rumble of Sam’s voice was concerned, almost hesitant. Quackity grabbed a bottle from the rack. “Quackity- you said it was urgent. What’s going on?” He turned, and the liquor slammed onto the counter. He might’ve relished the way Sam startled, on a better day. Quackity’s hands found the shot glasses, twisted the cap of the bottle. The neon blue that sloshed from the cup reflected the thunder in his gaze.

“Quackity, it’s still early-” But he tipped his head, knocked back the burning liquor. This time, Sam didn’t jump when the glass crashed down next to his hand. Quackity splayed his palms on the cool granite and leaned across to level his gaze with Sam’s.

“I need to visit the prison, Sam.”

Sam had the good sense to nod.

Maybe this was the wrong way to deal with things. Maybe strapping on armor and sharpening his knives wasn’t a healthy way to process his ex-fiances showing up trying to- what? Apologize? Make things ‘how they used to be’? If that was the case, they really were just mocking him. Nothing would ever be the way it used to.

It ended in a fight, of course. It ended in his already cracking heart fully giving out, splintering into a thousand shards like shattered fvcking glass. It ended in him envying Schlatt, because at least when his heart broke down he got to leave.

Quackity’s stuck here, with this void in his chest that keeps him floating oddly outside his body as Pandora swallows him whole.

They don’t even bother signing the waivers anymore. It would be ridiculous, at this point, especially since Quackity’s fully decked out in armor and tools. He guesses Sam’s just realized Quackity won’t be the reason Dream gets out of the hell they’ve so carefully crafted for him.

Levers, keys. The threshold to the heart of the prison is as claustrophobic as ever, but Quackity embraces the suffocating heat. There’s not much for his mind to wander on, here. There is the wall of lava, and there is the rasp of his boots on obsidian, and there is the rough leather pommel of his sword. There is, on the other side of the fire, a sacrificial lamb. Quackity grins and it hurts as the lava simmers down.

Sam says nothing.

“Dream…” He leans on the butt of his axe, looming, and his ears are still ringing with screams. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to give me what I want?” He kneels next to the ragged lump of man on the ground and grabs his chin, forces it up. “C’mon… I would leave you alone then, right? I wouldn’t come, wouldn’t have to hurt you- you would get so much peace and quiet… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Quackity makes his voice honey, his hand gentle. Gods, he thinks he even sees Dream lean into the touch. It’s pitiful, what the admin has become. One of Dream’s acid-green eyes is bloodied and purple, swollen shut, and a cut on his face oozes crimson. His mouth is positively dripping with the stuff, courtesy of Quackity’s pliers and some molars that were just begging to be yanked. He can hear the ragged, wheezing breaths of the man in front of him and Quackity has never felt so sickeningly alive.

“Heh…” Dream flicks his working eye up to hold Quackity’s gaze. “No-” He coughs violently, wheezing and convulsing. The hacking subsides and he forces out; “No peace in death, Big Q. You’ll know that s-soon.”

Quackity’s lip curls. He stands abruptly, taking little satisfaction in the way Dream’s chin cracks against the obsidian.

“You’re pitiful.” This was supposed to help. He thought it did- when he funneled all the glass inside of him into the swing of his axe, the cut of his knife. When the voices in his head were drowned out by the screaming. But Dream was on the ground, bleeding and broken and still acting like he had the upper fvcking hand, and it turned out the glass had grown only sharper.

This isn’t working.

He paces to the back of the cell and yanks a tattered book off the lectern, flipping through it with a scowl. He’s about to chuck the thing in the lava--just to see if it’ll get a reaction out of its’ author--when a name catches his eye. Gingerly, he thumbs back to the page it was written on. Quackity feels so sick he grins when he finds it.

It’s not just one name. It’s hundreds. Some he doesn’t recognize, but most from this server. In fact- it looks like everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Dream’s land has been scrawled on the black-bleeding page. Quackity even thinks he sees his own name in there somewhere. They cover the page almost entirely in ink, written and rewritten and scribbled over each other.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Tommy. Tommy seems to be in there a lot.

Dream must have sat here for hours, scribbling the names of people he would never see again, alone in his personal hell. It’s sick. And something in the back of Quackity’s mind sparks.

“Dream,” He says, as the start of an idea appears. “How would you like to see your friends again?” He sees the confusion in the prisoner’s eyes and has to fight to keep from grinning. “Or… your old friends, I suppose. But I bet they still care about you, don’t you think?” He sets the book down, pacing towards the heap of blood-streaked orange jumpsuit with mock sincerity plastered over his face. His mouth twitches at the look in Dream’s eyes. There’s fear, suspicion, pain… but also, delightfully, hope. He can see Dream trying to crush it, but it’s there. Gods, Quackity could get drunk on that look. Maybe he already is.

“How do you think,” He leans over Dream, hands folded behind his back. “They would feel about you if they saw you now?”

Quackity really is grinning now. The axe wasn’t working, the knives weren’t working, the pliers only made Dream more determined. It was time for a new tactic. He feels that spark in the back of his mind and fans it, turning away from Dream as it grows. He hasn’t dipped into this ability for a long time--people don’t much like his kind--but the only person to see him now is barely human himself. Quackity closes his eyes as the fire washes over him.

When he turns around, he almost breaks character at the shock in Dream’s eyes.

“George?”

There’s so much raw hurt in his voice- gods, why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Dream…” Quackity says in George’s voice. “Gods… what happened to you?”

“No… how- George-”

“I mean, everybody says you deserved it.” Quackity makes sure the revulsion is clear on his--George’s--face as he steps closer. “I guess you did… Still, though… this is a new low for you.” Dream is actually trying to push himself up now, trembling on wounded arms. “I mean, don’t you remember how things used to be? When we were all together? And now you’re… this. Not to be rude, Dream, but it’s kind of no wonder no one’s broken you out.”

“Stop, you’re… you’re not even real, I…” Dream screws his eyes shut, chest heaving. Aw. It looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“We were all happy, before.” He continues, letting the glass, the anger, slip back into his voice. “Like a family. And then you ruined it. All you’ve ever been is a parasite- it’s just amazing we didn’t notice sooner.” Quackity snarls with George’s face and he knows Dream can’t separate the illusion from reality. “You know what everyone says? They say good fvcking riddance.” Quackity--George--takes a step toward Dream with every word, until he’s sneering directly down at him. “I used to defend you. Down to the very end, I’d defend everything you did- all the wars, all the hurt, broken promises and broken hearts. I was loyal to you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Not anymore. Now, I say good riddance with the rest of them.”

Quackity doesn’t know much about George and Dream’s history, but he knew they were close. And Dream, for all his boasting about cutting ties, has never truly let go. “I loved you, Dream. And look where it got us. You’re bleeding out in a cell, alone and powerless, and I…” Quackity turns. It’s a damn good thing he’s an amazing actor, or the look on Dream’s face might just make him lose it. It’s the same look he’s seen on just three people’s faces before; three people with worthless rings and broken promises to tie them together.

(“Didn’t you ever love us?”)

But Dream was right about one thing. Attachments are dangerous. And Quackity can wield them like a sword.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you, Dream. And neither does anyone else.” His lip curls. “You’re worthless, Clay. I hope you rot.”

And the curtain falls.

Dream has pushed himself against a chest by now, heaving and trembling.

“Stop. Stop this, you’re not him, you’re not-” Another coughing fit seizes him and he hacks up blood.

“Wasn’t it a good performance, though? I think I was spot on, Clay.” Quackity leers, in his own voice now. Gods, that was exhilarating.

Dream rests his forehead against the chest, face contorted. “What do you want?” It sounds almost like a sob. Quackity’s smile drops.

“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dream. You know exactly why I’m still here, and why you can barely stand.” He cocks his head, lip twitching up into a smile. There are a thousand names scrawled into that book, all of them knives sharpened to cut. Quackity’s just gotten started. “Let's see if someone else could encourage you more.”

Dream barely has time to look afraid before the fire has washed over Quackity again.

Lights, camera, action.

“...You always wanted to be remembered, huh.” Sapnap’s voice says. Dream closes his eyes, breath hitching. “You’d always play the hero, when we were kids. Make George and I be the villains every time.” His eyes have been on the ground, but he lifts them now, stares down the figure in the corner. “Look where that fvcking got us.” And this hurts both of them, Quackity knows- because he knows Sapnap’s voice, his mannerisms, the way he sounds when he’s devastated and the way he sounds when he wants to burn the world with rage. Slipping into his skin is as easy as breathing and feels like suffocating all at once.

“You promised me- you promised me this would be our world. That we’d stay together, that we’d finally be happy.” And it is too easy to let that heartbreak bleed into his voice, sprinkle it with the rage and hate of wasted memories.

(“You promised me we’d be happy together.”)

He paces towards Dream with a glare like wildfire. “Well guess what, Dream. I am happy now. This whole server is happier now.” Quackity yanks the man in the orange jumpsuit up by the collar and snarls at his whimper of pain. “Without you. Without your sick fvcking games, without your wars, without your broken promises!” He’s shouting now, and he can see the whites of Dream’s eyes, like a horse near a fire. Quackity drops him with Sapnap’s hands like a rat he’d been holding by the tail. “Do you remember the promises you’d make, Dream?”

And now Quackity feels himself shifting again, almost involuntarily. His voice pitches higher and demonic horns scrape the obsidian above them. “You promised me peace.” Quackity says in BBH’s voice. “You said we’d be safe, that we’d win the wars!” It’s almost sickening to take the form of someone whose mind he knows is long gone. Worth it, though, to watch Dream squirm. “Is this what peace looks like to you, Dream? I can’t even remember what your face looks like!” There’s desperation in his voice, though Quackity doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is true. For all he knows it could be. “I can’t remember,” He takes a step towards Dream, glowing eyes wide with horror “What my own face looks like.”

“Bad-” Dream’s voice is almost pleading. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Good.

"Every time I look in the mirror-” Quackity’s breath hitches, just for dramatic effect. “All I see is red. Crimson. I’m poisoned, Dream. Because that’s what this place does to people.” The fire is back, transforming him. Quackity doesn’t even try to control it this time.

“That’s what you do to people.” Ponk’s voice rings throughout the cell.

“You poison them.” Alyssa.

“You tear them down.” Fundy.

“You think you’re so powerful,” Punz.

“But in reality-” Skeppy.

“You’re. Just. A. Parasite.” Karl hisses at the god on the floor who bleeds red regret instead of ichor.

Quackity doesn’t know where the words are coming from, now.

(“This country- it’s like a parasite, Q!”)

His breaths come ragged. When the fire sweeps through him again, Quackity nearly burns away himself.

Sapnap’s voice is tired when he speaks with it.

“You were never the hero, Dream. Turns out, you were never even part of the story.”

And Dream is left a crumpled mess of grief and blood at his feet as the fire dies to ashes.

Quackity’s tired when he leaves the cell that evening. It’s the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from more than lack of sleep, and it drags at his limbs. Sam does not look at him, and Quackity wonders if he knows what horrors were used in that cell today. He somehow can’t bring himself to care.

It was cruel, he knows. He slipped into their skin and cut Dream to shreds with the broken glass at his fingertips, ripped open his soul instead of his flesh and took pleasure in just tearing something down. It was cruel, but so is (was) Dream, and so is the world he created. Everyone gets cut and everyone bleeds, and the only thing to do is hope that your weapon is sharper than theirs. He’s had that lesson seared into his mind and cut into his skin too many times. So today when Quackity leaves a trembling mess behind the wall of fire, he cannot see Sam’s eyes- but if he could, he thinks they would hold something like fear.

So he steps out into the night, and he smiles, sharp and painful as broken glass.

56 notes · View notes

silkling · 3 years

Text

This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.

Part 1

———————————————————————————————————

Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.

The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.

Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.

Heatwave clearly didn’t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.

Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”

Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”

“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”

“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.

“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”

Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”

He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.

“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”

“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.

Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”

Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”

“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.

There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.

“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”

Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.

“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”

“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”

“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.

Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.

Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”

There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.

“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”

That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”

Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”

Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”

Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”

“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”

This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.

“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.

There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.

“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.

Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.

Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”

Blades paused. “Yes?”

Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”

“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”

That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.

“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.

“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”

Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.

Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”

Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”

“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.

“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”

“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.

The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.

“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”

Dreadwing simply bowed his head.

“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”

Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”

Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.

Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”

Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”

Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.

“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“

——————————

Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.

They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.

To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.

So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.

“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”

“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”

“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.

“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”

Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”

Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”

“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”

Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”

“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.

The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”

“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”

Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.

Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”

“A spark is like…your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.

Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.

“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.

Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.

“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.

Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”

“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.

“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”

“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”

Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.

“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.

“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.

Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.

Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”

Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”

Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”

Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.

“Terrorcon? Cody asked.

“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”

And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”

“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”

The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”

Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.

“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.

“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…

“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”

That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”

“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”

“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.

“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.

“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.

“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”

The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,

“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.

——————————

Part 3

97 notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Temptations

Pairing: Daichi x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Cheating, semi-public sex, dirty talk, a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Thank you to the sweet anon who requested this! It’s a little longer than I expected, but I got very into this. My requests are still open! I’m working on a few others tonight, but I’m, of course, going slower than expected haha.

It was never hard to find Sawamura Daichi in a crowded room. As demure as he seemed, he stood out, broad shoulders and wide stance making him appear large, commanding…though perhaps it was easier for you to find him, seeing as though you were always looking for him.

You wondered if he knew you’d be here.

The house party was far out of your usual university bubble, a gathering of alumni and older students from a neighboring college, all muddled voices and low lights, a bass thumping music from the living room. You wouldn’t normally venture out this far on a week night, but you’d heard mutterings from Tsukishima about the open invites his older brother had mentioned, and you had hoped that Daichi heard the same rumor mill as well.

You planned to leave if he wasn’t there, but now you were just waiting for an opportunity to get closer, or perhaps for him to seek you out.

He was a vexation to you, a temptation that never seemed to go away, not even after you found your partner over a year ago. You still found yourself awake at night, wishing you were in someone else’s arms, in his arms. You’d check your phone, look at his location, dreaming that you were there in his apartment, that he would text you and beg you to come over.

But you knew he never would. He had been dating the same girl since high school, he was loyal to a fault, even if that fault meant you’d never get to touch him like you wanted to.

He was forbidden fruit, the box warned to never be opened, else you’d both have to face the consequences.

However, you had a feeling that the consequences would surely be damned tonight.

You felt the heavy presence of his gaze since you spotted him, felt like you were being pulled into his gravity well, all your thoughts churning and tumbling around him, your lungs tightening when you’d catch his eyes across the room. It was maddening, like there were whispers in your ears telling you to go to him, to touch him, an invisible cord tugging at your heels to get closer.

He must have felt it too, that pull, because before the night was over, his hands were on your waist, large palms gripping at the fabric of your skirt as he led you into a back room. He was polite about it, using his size to help the two of you navigate between the throngs of people, but his grip was harsh, crushing, like he was afraid if he let you go, you’d disappear into the crowd.

“Do you know anyone here?”

There was more to his question, you could hear remnants of more words resting under his tongue, suppressed but still heavy.

“No,” you shook your head, lacing your fingers into his as you spotted a surprisingly empty couch against a forgotten wall.

The music in this room was dulled, sound bouncing off the walls in a vicious repeat of being heard and unheard. Someone had lined the ceiling with neon lights, the kind that cycled through colors, and there were cups, empty and full, left neglected on the floor, the furniture, each one holding the memory of a person come and gone from the room.

Daichi took the lead when it came to the couch, body weight sinking into the worn cushions. Then he was tugging you into him, onto him, spreading you across his thick thighs as you settled into his lap.

“Then what are you doing here?”

He said the words like he didn’t already know the answer, like his hands weren’t back on your waist, fingers sneaking under the sides of your shirt to rub against too-hot skin.

Your mind was swimming, still trying to catch up and recognize that he’d pulled you into his lap, that he was making the move to touch you, to begin prying open the lid to something that should not be opened.

Confidence was bubbling in your throat. You felt powerful like this, your hands on his shoulders, body hovering over his, his dark brown eyes looking up at you like he wanted something, something only you could give him.

“I’m here for the same reason you are.”

You were here because his lingering touches gave you hope, every brush against your lower back on your way to class, every smile and quip that he threw over his shoulder just for you. You were here because you needed to feel him, you needed to know if what you were craving was truly what you were missing.

He was here to see if you really wanted him, to know if all your late-night texts were more than just flirting with temptation, to know if you wouldn’t run away when he finally touched all the places on your body he thought about on restless nights.

You both knew all the reasons, which is why your body was quick to mold against his, legs snug against his thighs, hands tracing his neck, his face. His hands were bolder, slinking farther up your top, hot and heavy and engulfing against your stomach, up to your breasts.

No one knew you here, no one would know. Only you two knew the history that lined every caress, every excited breath and heartbeat.

No one would know that when you pressed your mouth to his, you were kissing something that didn’t belong to you. But in that moment, he was yours, and you were his, and neither of you were going to let that go to waste.

Daichi groaned against your lips, a soft grumble that sent tingles down your spine. You nestled in closer to his lap, slanting your mouth against his hungrily as he groped at your breasts, thick fingers dipping underneath the fabric of your bra. You could feel him getting hard within his jeans, pent up lust brewing from where your core was pressed against his erection.

As your tongue slid into his mouth, you urged one of his hands to trail lower down your body, grasping it gently as you placed him underneath your skirt.

“Touch me,” you whispered, losing the words in his mouth.

He didn’t have to be told twice.

Two of his fingers curled against your damp panties, tracing over the outline of your pussy. You moaned quietly, still aware that there were people filtering in and out of the room, though it’s not like anyone was sober enough to pay the lovebirds on the couch any mind.

You kissed at his jawline, trailing your lips down his thick neck, being careful not leave any marks behind, though there was something pressing in the back of your mind telling you to claim him.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said it with a grin, his other hand now pinching at your hardening nipple beneath your shirt.

“I’m always wet when you’re around.”

The rumble that left his chest almost startled you. It sounded possessive, like he was coming alive at your words, coming alive from touching the most sensitive parts of your body.

He roughly moved your panties to the side, fingers now dancing within your slick, back and forth, finger tips brushing against your folds and spreading you apart. He prodded your tight hole, testing the waters before plunging one of his fingers inside of you.

You hissed out a sound of delight, head tipping back and spine arching at the sudden wave of pleasure. After a few quick pumps, he added a second, keen eyes watching how your chest heaved and your mouth fell open.

“I bet that feels better than your own pretty fingers, baby.”

It wasn’t even a question; he knew the answer to that. He leaned forward, licking up your exposed throat with a flat tongue, greedily taking in the sweetness of your skin as he kept his fingers moving inside of you.

You were gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, nails piercing into the tight threads of his t-shirt. Your hips rocked down against his hand that was obscured by your skirt, your thighs growing hot as they rubbed against his dark jeans.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, eyes closing as he focused on feeling you, “like someone doesn’t fuck you right.”

A strangled sound left your mouth, shocked and sharp, but smothered by the moan that soon followed as he curled his fingers inside of you, pressing and rubbing against the fleshy patch of your inner walls.

You couldn’t remember that last time you touched yourself and didn’t think of him. You couldn’t even remember the last time you didn’t close your eyes during sex and wish that he was on top of you, moaning your name and whispering praises.

You moved to press your forehead against his, sweet little sounds still pouring from your lips.

“I need you to fuck me right, please.”

“You want me stuff this pretty little pussy under your skirt? Fuck you right here?”

You nodded silently, brain sloshing with bliss, shocks of heat and pleasure still rolling from where he was driving his fingers inside of you.

“Yes, I want you so, so badly, Daichi.”

One of your hands was sliding down his chest, fingers almost catching in the defined grooves of his muscles. Deft fingers worked at his belt buckle, hastily pulling at the leather like nirvana was waiting within his jeans. He moved to help you, releasing his hold on your breast so his hand could aid yours in freeing his cock from his zipper.

You settled in closer, wrapping your hand around his cock, thumb tracing a thick vein as you kept him pressed close to your belly. His head fell back against the couch, massive shoulders sagging with a breathy sigh as you pumped his wide cock in your palm. His skin was hot and silky, pre-cum sticky against your fingers.

A whine left your chest as he pulled his fingers out of you, covering your small hand with his slick covered fingers to have you sliding against him harder, faster.

“Sit on me, baby, let me feel you.”

Your hands returned to his shoulders for balance as you lifted your thighs up enough to let his cock settle between them.

He kept his grip on your thighs, easing you down onto his length. You molded your lips to his again to keep quiet, a burning, blooming line of ecstasy stemming from where his cock was sinking into your depths. He tasted so good, warm like bourbon, like foreign, forbidden spices that you couldn’t get enough of.

Daichi mumbled curses against your mouth, his fingers so deep into the flesh of your thighs that you worried for a moment that he would bruise you. Let him, your mind screamed, you wanted something to remember this moment by.

You gasped as he finally sheathed all of himself inside of you, your legs back to resting against his jeans. One of his hands found your face, cupping your cheek and keeping your mouth on his, lips wet and messy as they moved against one another.

Your inner walls burned from the intrusion of his fat cock, but you felt so whole, like you were made to sit on him and suck him into you.

“You feel so good, so fucking tight,” his was voice was cracking, like he was holding in his sound.

You rocked your hips tentatively, whining softly when you felt the sweet stretch of his cock inside you, felt the thick length of him plunge deeper inside you. You could cum just like this, just from the thrill of it all, of finally having the man you wanted most seated inside your cunt.

“No one’s here,” he mused, gaze settled over your shoulder to look at the empty room, the ghost of music the only presence left, “be a good girl and be quiet for me, okay?”

You nodded against the hand still placed against your cheek, nuzzling into it for comfort as he began to thrust his hips up into you.

“Fuck, oh fuck, yes, anything you say,” you muttered, eyes closed as he used the hand on your hip to help bounce you into his lap.

You both fell into a brisk rhythm, bodies rocking and bucking against each other, fingers digging into skin, moans left stuck in your throats.

It was all so much, the feeling of his jeans against your thighs, against your clit every time you sat back into his lap, the feeling of his breath against your neck, of his cock splitting apart your wet insides. You could feel your slick against his thighs, feel it pooling against his dick every time he left your wet heat only to pump back in again.

“What are you going to do with the cum I leave inside you?”

You whined at the thought, causing his palm to press against your mouth to keep you quiet.

“You’re gonna leave it inside you, alright? Let it sink into your panties all night.”

You nodded your head eagerly, hips rolling a little faster to get you closer to that point. You wanted to feel him cum inside you, wanted to feel his seed drip slowly from inside you for the rest of the night.

His thrusts were getting a bit frantic, the rhythm breaking as you felt him twitching inside of you. Then his thumb was sliding beneath the fabric of your panties, rubbing tight, quick circles on your clit. The shock of pleasure had you panting against his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you felt that tight coil inside your belly ready to burst.

“God, I want you to be mine.”

He said it into your throat, planting wet kisses between the words against your skin.

If he only he knew you were already his. You had been for so long, every other thought you had was about him, every weak moment you had revolved around how badly you wanted him, how you needed this.

You were pressing up that orgasmic ladder hard and fast, the thrusts of his cock and the swirling of his thumb throwing higher and higher towards the peak you desired.

Then, the world suddenly didn’t exist anymore. You saw white behind your eyelids, felt heat explode from inside your core, waves of euphoria washing over your body as you creamed around his cock. You could feel your walls sucking him in tighter, fluttering with each crest and ebb of your orgasm, bringing him to the point of stopping as you milked his cock for all the cum he promised.

You cried into his hand, grateful that it was there to stifle your sounds of ecstasy as you came apart around him. You felt his cum coating your insides, thick and warm, cock drooling relentlessly until all the cum couldn’t be contained inside of you, instead spilling out from where his cock met the spread folds of your cunt.

You pried his hand from your face, crashing your lips onto his as you felt a rush of heavy emotions come in the wake of your orgasm.

He held you close, smoothing his lips over yours with tender kisses as he petted your cheek, ran his fingers down your back.

“Come home with me,” he whispered against your mouth, hope laced between his words.

“I-I can’t, I shouldn’t.”

You could tell the weight of your actions were settling into his composure now, saw the realization flash across his eyes. But then something new fell into his resolve, a look of determination.

“Come home with me and stay with me.”

A thought flashed across your mind, the image of the body you left behind at home in bed, and then that picture blended into one of you wrapped in Daichi’s arms, comforted and whole and desired like how you wanted.

You brushed your hand across his cheek, felt his grin tug against your palm.

“You’ll have to pull your cock out of me before I can follow you home.”

#sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #daichi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq daichi #haikyuu daichi #daichi x you #Daichi Sawamura x you #writing request

449 notes · View notes

euphoricsunflowers · 3 years

Text

drowning in your scent — chae hyungwon

a/n: ajshdhs this this officially the longest fic on my blog by a whole lot (i think the only thing that comes somewhat close is queen’s whore at like 3.1k sheesh) so in the spirit of that! please give this fic a lot of love!!

word count: 4.7k

content: goddess au, sub!hyungwon, dom!fem!reader, the sex scene involves kissing, lip biting, neck kisses, and riding, fun stuff like that, and minhyuk is here!! he’s mentioned a lot lmao hyunghyuk besties

warning: this fanfic does take place in a village setting where there’s a bad harvest of food and so there’s a lot of mentions of food and starving. as someone with problems with food myself this could be potentially somewhat triggering so please don’t read if need be and i want to emphasize that if you need help to please reach out for it. i know what it’s like, please even feel free to reach out to me if need be, but do remember i’m not a professional.

summary: a boy from the village struggling through a bad harvest and the goddess of nature, of animals and forests, and of flowers so lovely the scent will make you dizzy, make a deal.

“hyungwon,” the voice calls out to him, and his heart aches when he sees it’s minhyuk that’s speaking to him. the usual cheer and brightness to minhyuk’s voice has all but vanished, “come on, we need to get to work,” he trudged slowly behind his friend, with minhyuk’s hand holding his own. there’s nothing but comradery between them, and yet hyungwon feels like he would trust minhyuk with his life.

“i hate this,” hyungwon murmurs under his breath, but he can faintly hear minhyuk chuckle at his whining, “i’m serious!! there’s barely any food and i’m starving and i’m supposed to pick fruit that i won’t even be allowed to eat?!”

minhyuk’s face is stone cold suddenly as he turns to, for lack of a better phrase, tell hyungwon to shut the hell up, “lower your voice,” he orders, and hyungwon deflates, but he obeys, and the quiet returns as they continue to walk to their spot in the field to pick the fruit, “i’m sorry, but i worry that being so outspoken will be your downfall, won.”

as they pick the apples, in silence from their short and blunt conversation, hyungwon spots one that stands out from the rest. he tries to resist getting a closer look at it, but he just can’t. he takes a few steps over towards it, subsequently a few steps away from minhyuk, and the apple does the rest. it’s almost hypnotic in the way hyungwon can’t take his eyes off of it. it’s red and glowing and hyungwon doesn’t know how he’s the only one captivated by the apple.

it’s like the fruit is speaking to him, calling him away, and he starts walking, even when minhyuk calls after him, he knows minhyuk spoke even though he couldn’t hear him. he walks for a few minutes, through the trees and the dense forest that he’s never traversed before. he doesn’t have to constantly gaze at the apple now, but he grips it in his hand like his life depends on it.

he comes upon a small statue hidden in the depths of the forest. it’s a stone carving of a bird, wings spread as if flying through the sky. it’s beautiful.

“isn’t it?” he hears from behind him, actually registering someone spoke to him this time, and he turns to see who it is. instead of the face of cheerful minhyuk he’s so used to seeing, a beautiful figure graces his eyes.

hyungwon can’t even focus on the physique, though, he’s too entranced by the piercing eyes that stare into his soul practically and the voice he can hear ringing in his head. “isn’t it, dear?” your voice repeats again, and he feels compelled to answer, though he’s not exactly sure how you read his thoughts. maybe he had actually said them out loud.

“yes,” he murmurs softly, turning back to look at the statue, “it’s gorgeous,” he takes a step closer to the statue to get a closer look.

“your voice,” you speak again, “i- nevermind,” you stop yourself, instead choosing to take a step closer to him, your hand touches his shoulder, “can i help you with something, dear?”

“i- what?” he’s taken aback by your question, because he didn’t search you or this place out, he was practically lured here by the fruit, “no, i-i’m okay, thank you though.”

“are you sure?” your touch on his shoulder finally registers in his head, like all his reactions are slowed and delayed, “if you’re not here for something, then… why are you here?”

“i dont… i don’t know,” he was never loud, but he’s even quieter now, “the apple… it led me here.”

you suddenly fell silent. he wonders if you used to apple to lure him, if this is a trap, but your touch is still so distracting and he can’t bring himself to care much. you look so harmless, with such pretty features that he wants to stare at forever.

it does make him wonder, however, just why your tone was so brazen when he said he wasn’t here to ask anything of you. you looked baffled when he said no, like that was the only reason you expected him to be here, “do people always just come searching for you… asking for things?”

“yes, they do,” you respond bluntly, but your words aren’t hostile. he faintly feels a sense of pity in his heart for you.

“that sounds like… such a sad existence,” the words leave his lips without him really putting much thought into them.

“it is,” you say as silence falls between the two of you before he speaks up.

“you uhm… are you… human?” you’re a beautiful yet lonely person in the forest, and it makes him wonder if you even are a person.

“no, dear,” you say as you lift your hand, the grass beneath both of you growing as you do so, “i am a being that represents nature. i think you humans would call me a god or goddess?”

“oh that’s… incredible. please explain to me more,” his eyes find you once again, watching you with already such a soft, adoring gaze.

“you just want to hear me talk, little human,” your tone is playful as his cheeks become rosy.

“maybe,” he smiles cheekily, “will you still explain it to me?”

“of course, sit with me and the flowers, will you?” you ask him, and he plops on the ground, sitting with his legs crossed as you begin, “i can control how nature exists in this world. i can make your flowers grow or trees in your forest more dense. you humans also love to hunt the sweet animals i create, ”

you pause, as if to give him a chance to speak up, and he does, “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s alright, dear, your apologies are not necessary. besides, once they do die, they become gifts for other gods, and those gods treat their gifts from me very well,” you smile somberly, “tell me, how are you humans doing?”

he wants to lie, for some reason. he has an urge to just say ‘everything is fine, let’s just talk about happy things. i want to be happy’ but he doesn’t, “we’re… you want my honesty, right?”

“yes, yes absolutely,”

“we’re suffering. there’s too little food for everyone,” his stomach rumbles as he’s in the middle speaking, and he makes a sort of ‘see what i mean?’ gesture, “and we barely have enough to keep everyone alive through the month..”

you subtly gasp at his confession he just gives so easily, “and yet you were expected to pick fruit? that seems unfair, dear.”

“it was work that had to be done for the good fo the village,” he lowers his head at the thoughts racing through his head, envisioning the soft eyes of his friend, “but min- uh, my friend, he’s all i have. i know i… said i didn’t have anything to ask of you… and this may seem too much of me to ask, but now that i know what you are and can do, could you please help them? the people of my village, i mean,” he pleads, his eyes shining in the light.

“you want me to… provide them food?”

“please, i’d do anything,”

your face is suddenly much more serious, and you grip his shoulder as you lean in close to him, “for future reference, dear, don’t ever tell a being like me you’d do anything. ever. got it?” you were kind. you knew you were kind, but there were some that would rip his poor, innocent heart to shreds, steal his soul because he didn’t read the fine print. you’re relieved someone so soft and sweet and almost angelic stumbled upon you of all beings.

“yes,” he practically squeaks.

“good,” you sigh as you stand up, “i will help you, little thing. in return, please stay with me for one day. tomorrow afternoon, at this exact hour, you can return to the village,” you extend your hand for him to shake, “are those terms agreeable to you, my little human?”

his heart pounds in his chest. you want him to stay with you? for a whole day? he decides it’s a price that’s easy to pay if he remembers the prospect of being able to save him friend and his people from starvation “yes,” he murmurs, reaching out to shake your hand.

—

it doesn’t take much effort from you, just a wave of your hand and apparently, the harvest in the village would magically improve. he supposes one day is not a lot of his little time to give up if it meant the village could be revitalized with a bountiful amount of food. he just hopes minhyuk isn’t worrying too much.

you have a cottage of your own, he learns. it confuses him slightly because you’re a goddess, why would you need a very human-esque living space? he supposes he’ll never learn the answer to that question. the thing itself is impossible to see from the outside, he could have sworn nothing was there until your hand was in his (his heart stopped for a good minute) and you led him up the stairway leading into the cottage.

“make yourself at home,” you tell him, and he nods in a daze. your place was beautiful, full of flowers and vases with more flowers and little flower trinkets on the table and mugs with flower designs. judging from anything you considered to be your domain, you seem to like flowers. the softness of the atmosphere is calming to him, the scent of all the flowers is overwhelming, his knees are weak.

“what- what are you going to do with me for this day that you have me? you must have some plan for me,” you tilt your head with a faint smile on your lips as he sits beside you on the couch, “do you want me to work? am i a servant? please, all cards on the table, tell me what you want from me.”

“all cards on the table?” you echo, and he nods, for a second wondering if you just straight up didn’t know what he meant, but you lean in to him, close enough to just barely need to lean just a little more and you’d be kissing him, “i just think you’re cute. forgive me if i just wanted a day to gaze at you.”

he’s startled as you pull yourself away, leaving him flustered and blushing and stuttering as you excuse yourself outside to grow more flowers. he sees the beautiful sunflowers and roses and tulips and then his eyes find you once more. your beauty just radiates, it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating that he feels the safest really taking it all in when you’re focused on your flowers, not leaving him a blushing mess whilst so close to kissing him he just might faint.

the sun hits your skin in such a beautiful way that he can’t can’t stop staring. it’s ironic how you wanted him to stay for a night because you thought he was cute but he cannot take his eyes off of your beautiful smile and hair and demeanor and just… aura. your presence is so soft and comforting yet so overwhelming to him. it’s all something he can’t understand.

you return a few hours later, having given your guest time to really settle in. as you open the door, he’s in the kitchen area with one of your mugs, drinking a cup of tea peacefully and quietly, “welcome back,” he mumbles with a smile.

“hi there, little human,” you smile back at him, taking a seat beside him, “i’m… sorry. i know you were probably lonely, here all by yourself-“

“no, i actually enjoy the quiet. it beats picking fruit,” he shrugs.

“speaking of food, i was able to grant your request, but i completely forgot about you. would you like something specific to be prepared for your evening meal?” hyungwon forgot what it was like when there wasn’t barely enough food to survive on. he tells you his wishes for meat and vegetables and starches his stomach aches for, “alright, dear. sit at the counter with me as i cook.”

he’s stunned for a second, “i didn’t know you can cook.”

“you don’t know my name, my sweet. we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“what is your name?” he asks, and you giggle to yourself, having known he’d ask it the moment you brought up the fact that he hadn’t yet.

“y/n,” you answer, finding the spices you wanted, “and yours, my beautiful flower?”

his heart skips a beat at the endearing term you use. at this point, he wonders if you’re getting enjoyment out of flustering him so helplessly like this, “hyungwon,” he sees the way you smile when you hear his name. it makes him smile too.

“hyungwon… what a beautiful name you have, my dear. it’s fitting, for someone as beautiful as you,” at this point he’s absolutely sure you’re getting a kick out of making him a flustered mess, because now his cheeks are red and he can’t meet your gaze, “sorry, i don’t mean to fluster you—,” liar, he thinks, “— i just can’t help adoring you.”

“you’re too much for my weak heart,” he mumbles exasperatedly as you cook, looking over at him with that cheeky smile on your face like you know just how much you wreck his heart and his composure.

you seat him at the small-but-not-too-small dinner table, bringing plates of food and finally sitting at the seat across from him, “eat as much or as little as you want, dear.”

he goes to ask before he puts too much thought into the question, “are you not gonna eat-? oh, wait, nevermind, do you not need to?” you nod, smiling.

“i’m grateful that you think of me, angel, but you’re correct: this is all for you,” and while he’d theoretically be hesitant to eat while you just sit there, he finally remembered just how hungry he was, and so it would have taken much more restraint than he currently had to restrain himself.

after dinner, you lead him him to the bedroom in your cottage. emphasis on the singularity in that term, “oh- uh, a-am i going to sleep with you-?” he stutters.

“you can, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to, flower. i don’t really have to sleep so if you want the bed all to yourself, then it’s yours. i just… i thought maybe- you know what,” you tone changes suddenly, and he’d be damned if he didn’t catch it, “nevermind. take the room. call for me if you need me, i’ll be outside with the flowers again-“

“wait!” he calls out as you turn to leave him alone. you look over at him, eyes shining so beautifully in the moonlight.

“yes, my flower?”

he’s flustered once again, but he can’t help wanting you to stay with him. he reaches his hand out to you, similarly to how you reached yours out to him, “stay with me?”

you accept the proposal, sitting on the bed with him, weaving a few flowers into a flower crown while he lays on his side, watching you work on the crown like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

“i think sunflowers will look pretty against your skin, hyungwon,” you mumble, keeping your voice soft as to not disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you’ve both created, and he smiles bashfully at your words, “truly, i think anything would look beautiful on you, but the yellows would really bring out the strong, almost sensual browns in your eyes. can- can i?”

he nods in consent, sitting up and sitting still for you, and your fingers gracefully position the crown on top of his head, “ah, do i look good with it on?”

“oh absolutely, sweetheart, but,” you scoot closer to him, and once again, his heart beats rapidly and his thoughts evaporate into thin air, replaced by the bashful shyness and the way he’s suffocated by your scent, breathing it in like it’s a drug, “in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful.”

he can’t breathe.

“i-i, um, oh my god,” he stammers, so shy as you smile at how he struggles.

“can i kiss you, pretty boy?” you whisper, your hand raising to hold his cheek as you gaze at his lips. it’s subtle, probably because he was malfunctioning inside, but he nods, closing his eyes and passively waiting for your lips on his.

he didn’t know what to expect, with you being a god and all, but it was so much more than he could have prepared himself for, both mentally and physically. it was a rush if he’d ever felt one, both his body on fire and goosebumps lining his skin.

your style of kissing makes him ache in so many ways. his lips will definitely be bruised from the way you bite them, drawing blood like a vampire but in the kindest way possible, your hand cupping his cheek and you other rubbing his thigh soothingly is enough to keep him from crying out because of the pain.

“stop me, hyungwon,” you mumble under your breath, “if you don’t want this, you need to stop me. tell me to stop and i will,” but how did you ever expect him to do that when he’s already so wrecked and all you’ve done is kissed?

“don’t,” he whispers, “don’t stop, please,” and you oblige, keeping your lips busy on his neck as he groans, reaching out to hold your waist, “please,” he echos his own words weakly.

“tell me what you want, i’ll do it, just tell me,” you see how choked up he is, and it’s cute how easily he’s wrapped around your finger, “tell me, tell me, my flower.”

“touch me more,” he breathes, and you help him throw off his shirt. your hands are all over him in an instant, you press kisses down his neck, paying attention to his chest as your hands wander lower and lower.

he bites his lip in anticipation, but it feels just like how it felt when you bit his lip before and he audibly moans at the recent memory. it’s almost embarrassing when he realizes just how openly and easily he’s been moaning since you started.

and it’s not like he exactly expected a warning, but he wasn’t ready for when one of your hands started rubbing his crotch and making him moan and whine helplessly, “please don’t tease me.”

“hm, alright, sweet thing. how about i ride you? would you like that?” he nods desperately, weak at the thought of you using him for your own pleasure and leaving him to drown in the overwhelming pleasure you give him, “take off your pants and underwear, then.”

he scrambles to do as you say, watching with his jaw dropped as you make the garments you wear all but disappear with just a wave of your hand, and he’s intimately reminded that you’re not human, that he shouldn’t have trusted you so implicitly as to let you put him in this position, and that he’s playing a game where he doesn’t know the rules.

but then he sees the genuineness in your smile, the way you treat him so kindly yet assertively, soft yet harsh, and he just can’t fathom being in any real danger when he’s being swallowed by so much pleasure when he’s under you like this.

he’d been zoned out for a few moments until you’re actually riding him already, holding his hand in a softness that makes him weak. he suddenly notices the flowers in your hair, the way your nose crinkles up when you smile down at him, the way looking at your lips reminds him of the ache on his. it’s incredible just how infatuated he is, the way he adores so much being not just under you in a physical sense but also being under your spell.

he moans in such a heavenly bliss, eyes fluttered shut as he can only hear his own voice make sounds that would normally make him embarrassed. he can’t bother to care right now because when he opens his eyes, you seem to like the sounds he makes. and he wants to please.

“hyungwon, d-dear,” you murmur, your hands resting on his chest to keep yourself stable on his chest, “i can’t keep my eyes off of you, baby. you’re absolutely ethereal. so please, can you show me how pretty you are when you cum? can you cum for me, my flower?”

god that name was the most precious thing to him, he wanted to be your beautiful flower forever.

he does cum. he orgasms viscerally, his body trembling as he throws his head back, his jaw slacked as he moans loudly, cumming so hard he can see white.

he stays in that headspace of pleasure, higher than the clouds, for a few moments as the high subsides and he’s left with a euphoric feeling that keeps him shivering with aftershocks, until he starts to hear your voice. you whisper little nothings to him as he starts to come down completely, “i’ve got you, little thing, don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

he briefly ponders why you keep calling him ‘little thing’ when he’s as tall as he is, but your kisses to him temple take that thought away, “y/n?”

“yes, dear?”

“can you sleep with me?” he asks, not realizing that you already told him that you don’t need to sleep.

still, you can’t resist him when he’s just so adorable with that pout he probably doesn’t even realize he’s making, “of course, let’s clean up just a little bit, and i’ll lay with you while you sleep, angel.”

—

morning comes far too soon. you still have him for another 7ish hours, but once they’re up, he’ll return to his village, to that friend he mentioned, and disappear from your existence forever. it’s almost pitiful how quickly you became attached to the pretty thing.

you look over at him, sleeping so, so peacefully, his cheek squished against the pillow while he pouts and you can’t help but coo at how precious he looks.

it’s impossible to imagine a life anymore where you can’t keep looking at his face, at his pretty lips (that are covered in bruises in a way that makes this moment a bit less melancholic and innocent), at the softness in his eyes when he gazed at you. what a miserable fate that would be to live through.

“what’s on your mind?” you hear him groan tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. you go to object, say ‘of course it’s nothing just go back to sleep dear’, but he catches it and, even in the early morning, he won’t take a lie.

“i just… you have a life to return to, and i don’t want to deprive you of that. i’ve just grown to like you, is all,” you murmur as you run your fingers through his hair, hearing his soft gums of contentment, “an existence of being by yourself might make one somewhat… easily attached.”

hyungwon doesn’t know how to respond, but he sits up, despite the tiredness that still rests in his body, he moves to get himself out of bed, using his hand to brush his hair out of his face, “we still have time together, so let’s do something you want to do.”

“like what?” you smile sadly, “what should we do?”

“hmm…” he makes a really cute face when he thinks, you realize, and it just makes you fall a little bit more, “well you really like flowers right?”

“of course,”

hyungwon’s face lights up, like he’s had a sudden realization, “oh! then what if we painted? i have minhyuk’s paints in my bag!! minhyuk told me to hold onto them for the day and i kept them on me!”

“wha- what if your friend doesn’t want you to use them?” you stutter, but you can feel that you’re already on board.

“then that’s his problem!”

now to be honest, painting was not hyungwon’s strong suit, but he had such a fun time with mixing colors and making flowers that don’t really look like flowers come to life on the many wooden walls of your cottage. neither of you had brushes either, so it was really just fingerpainting, and by the end, your hands were covered in myriads of greens and yellows and pinks reds and blues tinted by the white, they were almost works of art themselves.

and after hours of painting, making more flower crowns, even teaching him to make flower crowns, and more activities, your time with him was dwindling. of course, he doesn’t have to leave, but the time that he had to stay was slowly slipping away from you.

“hyungwon,” you mumble, getting his attention as he sits on the couch while you were supposedly making tea. you raise your hand, displaying a bright red apple, “this is the one from yesterday, right?”

“y-yeah, i think so, why?”

“i- come here, please.”

he wobbles over to the kitchen, sitting beside you as you show off the fruit, “what’s going on?”

“remember when you told me the apple lead to you the statue?” he nods, “this apple is blessed with my energy. it’s… magical, in a human sense. i just want to apologize for decieving and likely confusing you yesterday,” you look down at the fruit, shiny and glowing red with liveliness, “but i have a… proposal of sorts.”

“i- alright, what is it?”

“take a bite,” you say, your tone heavy with implications of what will happen, “take a bite, and stay with me, will you?”

“what- what about my family? my friend? what about the life that i have?” he asks, but it’s all rhetorical, he doesn’t expect a serious answer, “i was willing to give you a day, i can’t give you my life.”

why can’t you, you feel the urge to murmur to him, why can’t you give that all up? you know i’m all you want now, you’ll only spiral down even further into me, “you don’t have to eat it all, just a bite, just one.”

“what- why are you so adamant that i eat that apple?”

“because!” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and once again his heart aches and he rushes to attempt to soothe you, to hold your heart in his hands and never once let it be hurt, “because you are all i want, hyungwon,” you mumble as he hugs you, resting your head against him, “because i want you to return to your friend and your village, but i’m selfish, i’m so, so selfish. this is the best middle ground i could think of.”

“...what does taking a bite entail?” he asks tentatively, and his heart jumps when he sees your eyes shine with hope. whether or not you know it, you’ve got him good.

“half the time, you’ll be mine. your soul has to reside in my domain, your heart will constantly ache for me,” you murmur, your hands suddenly wandering and he chokes out a moan, “but the rest of the time, you can return to the village. you can return to your life, and i will not make any attempts to steal you away during that time.”

he’s left speechless, not exactly sure what you’d want him to say now, but you place the apple in his hands, pressing a few faint kisses to the edge of his lips just to fluster him, but then you disappear outside. he watches you through the window as you tend to your flowers, picking a sunflower to place into your hair. he’s so entranced by the way you move that he can barely focus on what he needs to focus on: the apple.

he wonders what minhyuk is feeling right now. he’s probably worried to death, horrified out of his mind that his friend just disappeared into the forest. he wants so badly to go back and reassure him that nothing bad happened and go back to the way things were except things would be better.

but he does also feel a sense of… devotion? infatuation? love, maybe? whatever it is, he feels something towards you. his heart aches to please you, to do in this situation what would make you happy. the way you looked when you were so emotionally vulnerable with him, you didn’t seem like a god that he had to worship in that moment, you seemed like a soul that he wanted to love. it’s this feeling deep in his soul that just leaves him, both his heart and his body, utterly defenseless to the prospect of you.

so this is the end of him as he’s been for his whole life. or at least, in a sense, half of him. he’s grateful that you went outside to let his head clear just a bit, it’s always so clouded with you and your scent and your aura that he feels delusional. he tosses the apple around anxiously as he tries to decide what to do, but in the end, there’s not a chance in the world that he could ever go against what would make you happy.

he tries to delude himself into thinking it’s a conscious choice he makes, but he knows he’s lying; he just doesn’t want to accept it. he’s been a wreck since the moment you lured him away with the very apple he holds, there’s not a single reality in which he gives you up. his heart aches to protect yours, and his body wishes to be ruined by yours.

he takes a bite. he’s yours.

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @foenixs @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

#subidolnet #sub!idol #sub idol #sub kpop #sub!monsta x #sub monsta x #sub!monsta x smut #sub monsta x smut #monsta x smut #monsta x fanfic #monsta x x reader #monsta x hyungwon #sub!hyungwon #sub hyungwon #hyungwon x reader #sub hyungwon smut #sub!hyungwon smut #hyungwon smut

189 notes · View notes

ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Untamed Dog

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: non-con, major spoilers, predator/prey, biting, manipulation, gaslighting, breeding, blood and violence

AO3 Link

A gift to my friend and one of my favorite artists, @workofann

When King Fritz failed to retrieve his people to the island after the Great Titan War, all of the Eldians became slaves to Marley.

All of the nine titans were under the Marleyan army’s control, warriors who inherited one of the seven titans would receive the Marleyan title and a red armband along with the promise of a better life for their family even after their inevitable death.

The Wilbur family kept the Warhammer Titan and the Founding Titan was being fed to an ordinary Eldian family to keep it safe. Or rather keep Eldians in place, taking their hope of freedom away.

The remaining of the seven titans were hung down on a rope around a stick to trick Eldians into having power. Marley made Eldians believe that inheriting one of these titans could bring comfort to their life.

As long as someone inherited one of the titans, their entire family would live in comfort instead of poverty.

That silly promise worked. Since the many Eldians were living in poverty, they were willing to do anything to have a better life. Even if it meant to send their kids to death.

Eldian warriors started training from the moment they hit puberty and up until the moment they became adults. Only then, they were able to inherit the titans they were attained to.

In the hopes of living a better life, you were one of the many kids who had joined the warrior training program when you were little. You grew up in the army and experienced the destructive war from an early age.

You were lucky enough to be taken to the warrior candidate program later on. Which pretty much ensured your death but the impending truth that you were going to die for this country was honoring in a way. It was the least you could do, dying in the name of Marley was something you owed to them after everything devils like you made them go through.

In the end, it was all decided from the moment you were born with an armband to your left. Like many, you were carrying the blood of the titans, the curse of Ymir. To be freed from the shackles of the ‘devil’ title, you had to prove your loyalty to Marley. Dedicate your heart to your country.

You did.

So did your comrades.

However, only six of you could inherit one of the seven titans the Marleyan army used.

~~~

“My gear is totally dead,” you sighed, standing on top of the wall surrounding the enemy’s town that your comrades had destroyed, trying to take your eyes away from the mass of bodies scattered along almost every single inch of space, “I have no gas left.”

“Rookie mistake,” Jean snickered, trying to regain some humanity he had left. “We’ll go get some for you as soon as the others are done with the serum.”

It became silent.

“Is dinner or breakfast the most important meal of a day?” Connie asked to break the uncomfortable silence between his friends.

“Both,” Sasha answered without hesitation.

“No, you should only choose one and it’s obviously breakfast, moron,” Jean sighed audibly, looking down from the wall.

The rest of the people looked tenser than ever yet you still managed to offer the trio a smile before giving your answer, “I’d say it’s dinner. It’s where you and your family or friends are home, safe and sound. Dinner is like a blessing, in my opinion, don’t you think so, Jean?”

Jean met your gaze and blushed bright red before averting his eyes to look around himself rather than the bloodbath covering them everywhere.

“He hates his mom so he wouldn’t know,” Sasha spoke without thinking.

“Sasha!” Connie warned, trying to tell the airhead girl that it was a rude thing to say.

“We all eat dinner together,” you pointed out, “Breakfast is hard to eat together when each one of us has different chores but we all eat dinner together. We are family even without blood.”

“You’re right,” Connie gasped softly. “I never thought of it that way. I mean this about eating dinner together, of course. The family part is kinda weird though, you know since some of us will die no matter what.”

A cold breeze brushed their skin. Sasha anxiously started biting the inside of her cheeks.

“That’s why I think dinner is important.” You walked over to Jean and grabbed his bicep to pull him closer to the group. “At night, when we’re in the dining room altogether, eating and enjoying a meal together means that we’ve all made it through a day. We’re safe and alive, together.”

“I get it!” Jean pulled his arm free, “All this positivity won’t get you anywhere unless you stay on the lookout. We’re in the middle of a battlefield here.”

Only then the four of you came back to your senses. Connie had remembered why he had broken the silence. It was because his legs wouldn’t stop shaking or his jaw wouldn’t stop clenching. He shivered with the thought of what was going to happen soon.

Sasha remained silent yet anyone could tell how anxious she was with a single look in her direction.

Jean acted tough. He was worried but he knew better than to show weakness. He held his composure and even looked a little intimidating.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to feel or how to act. You weren’t sure why they were so worried. Even though you all had one more year left of your training, emergencies like this happened quite often. The Colossal Titan’s holder was about to die, so, of course, the Marleyan commander would order your commander to feed him to one of the only two candidates.

It was either going to be Armin or Bertholdt. One of them was going to become the Colossal Titan and the other one was going down a rank in the military to become a special force soldier.

It was that easy.

The weaker link had to leave. It was the rule of nature.

“You guys!”

You whipped her head around to see Reiner gliding through the air with his ODM gear to reach the top of the tall wall. He landed right beside you, looking rough and sweaty.

“Armin,” he breathed, “They gave the serum to him.”

Connie, Sasha, and Jean gaped but you were inanimate.

“He’ll be the colossal titan?”

“Yes, they’re going to kill us. It’s Eren and Mikasa’s fault, we’re screwed. Commander Erwin should have given the serum to Bertholdt!” Reiner gritted his teeth in anger. “Armin won’t be able to lead us anywhere-”

“Hey!” Jean pointed a finger at Reiner, “He’s the reason why most of us are alive. It was always him who saved us with his smart planning, alright?”

You nodded along while Sasha jumped down the wall to get to the other side of the opening so she could see what was happening. Connie followed after her right away.

“Bertholdt deserves the Marleyan title more than Armin,” Reiner confronted Jean.

The two of them were the only candidates for the Armored Titan, the way they were reacting and arguing was normal. In the future, it was going to be the same for them. Only one of them could inherit the Armored Titan. This argument was nothing but a desperate attempt to prove which one of them was worthy of a titan and ignore the impending truth.

It wasn’t how strong the soldier or how smart the soldier was. Marley didn’t choose its soldiers like that. They chose those who they could brainwash easily. The army wanted desperate young adults who were ready to dedicate their lives to a country that owed nothing to them.

It was nothing but pure manipulation. Destroying the lives of hundreds if not thousands of young people, just so seven of them could inherit these titans.

As the two of them were arguing, you walked to the edge of the wall, staring at the bloodbath of your enemies and titans, that would disappear in a couple of hours.

War Chief Zeke had gone a little berserk today with his titan but it was only normal. Everything had gone according to the plan, the rain of the titans was able to destroy most of the city while the Colossal Titan broke down the outer walls. Yet, nobody could foresee the enemy having the infamous titan spears. The Colossal Titan’s holder was hit by many of them, leaving him fatally injured. It was unfortunate that the last minutes of his life was here on the battlefield but it was one of the most fortunate things for the candidates who had enough time to be able to eat him.

Who deserved to be the Colossal Titan?

In your opinion, it should have been none of them.

Armin was smart, just like Bertholdt. however, they were both weak and childish.

You could guess that Armin was chosen only because Bertholdt still had some of his humanity left in him. Everyone knew he cried himself to sleep.

If you didn’t want to murder an entire country without remorse just so you could be blessed with that red armband, then you lost your chance.

Bertholdt should have known that.

Reiner probably knew that though but refused to believe the truth that was right in front of him. He was mentally unstable, making him the perfect new Armored Titan. Easy to manipulate, dumb enough to risk his entire being for the sake of Marley.

You took a deep breath to calm your senses and to block out the angry arguing happening behind you. There was a soft rumbling sound as you breathed out. At first, you thought it was your stomach thanks to the previous conversation with your friends about food but it was something louder.

Only then you realized that it was the faint screams of your enemies you had heard today, the memories of the loud squelching noises that happened when their flesh was being eaten by titans. It was all playing over and over and over again in your head.

Holding your hands up to cover your ears, you tried to block out the noises. Praying that they would stop but you were old enough to know prayers wouldn’t solve anything.

“(name),” Jean spoke through his teeth, he was still furious at Reiner. “Come on, let’s get you a new gas tank.”

You let your hands fall to your sides and walked towards him after turning around on your heels. The two idiots were having a staredown but as soon as you walked to the other edge of the wall, Jean wrapped an arm around you and jumped down. You held onto him briefly as he aimed his grappling hook towards a building on the verge of collapsing, at that moment he said something he shouldn’t have.

“People who obsess over the Marleyan title like that won’t get anywhere in life.”

You nodded in response, the title meant so little but the power of a titan… It meant everything.

As soon as you changed your gas tanks, it was time to go.

The enemy had already surrendered and there was nothing else you could do here.

“You brats.”

Turning your head, you looked at your captain. Both you and Jean saluted Levi as he walked towards you with an angry look on his face. Here it was coming, he was going to scold you for hiding to avoid the clean-up after the battle.

“Where were you?” he demanded an answer more than he asked.

“Uhh, we were with… Sasha and Connie. We were just… um… waiting for Commander Erwin to be done with the serum and-”

“I’m not talking about that,” Levi cut off Jean’s rambling. “Where were you during the battle?”

“We fought with our assigned squad, sir. Squad Leader Hanji gave us the orders to kill enemies on top of the walls with the titan spears.” You spoke clearly, still saluting, unlike Jean.

“That glasses saved our ass again…” Levi muttered under his breath. He then told you to stand easy.

Relaxing your posture, you looked at Captain Levi in the eye. “Squad Leader Hanji said they noticed the enemy on top of the walls at the last minute. Although our response was quick, we still couldn’t make it in time to protect our precious warrior, sir. Shall we go to sleep without dinner tonight again?”

Jean’s eyes widened at your words in panic.

“No need,” Levi sighed, eyes softening at your words. Even after so many years together, you were still oddly respectful and obedient when it came to your commanders. “You brats did good, nobody from our squad died. That’s why you deserve a break.” He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Tell the others in the squad to gather at the entrance. We’re going to have cars coming in to get us to the harbor.”

“What about Eren?” you asked, knowing that he was most definitely with his friend right now.

“He’s my responsibility, you two should worry about getting everyone in the cars within an hour. If we don’t leave in time, we’ll have to take that shitty train.” Levi dismissed the two of you with a wave of his hand. “See you on the ship.”

“Yessir!”

“Yeah, sir!”

As soon as your commander walked away, Jean pointed a finger at your face threateningly. “You better stop that! Playing that obedient soldier thing is soooo dumb! You were gonna make us all sleep hungry again!”

“Well, I have to show them that I respect my country and army. When you show them respect, you get extra points. They think I’m a better candidate for the titan than that guy.” You were grinning from ear to ear. “That’s how you win, Jean.”

~~~

You were able to gather everyone at the entrance within an hour. The car ride took barely an hour but felt like hours thanks to your sore body.

In front of the ship, Squad Leader and War Chief stood next to each other as they were telling you and Annie about which rooms of the ship belonged to your squads.

“Make sure to get some rest.” Zeke took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. “It’ll be a long trip until we make it home.”

“The monkey’s right! Get extra rest and eat lots! We asked Niccolo to make some warm food so better hurry up before it gets cold!!” Hanji crossed their arms over their chest with a large smile after giving you both the information papers about the ship and the schedule. “Good job on today’s battle!”

“Don’t praise them too much,” Magath said, appearing behind you. “We almost lost the Colossal Titan today.”

“Come ooooon, Magath, cut the young adults some slack! The Colossal Titan is in the right hands now. If you’re worried about Armin not being ready for the next battle, don’t worry!!! He will go under my titan training once we get back to Marley.” Hanji walked towards the General and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll sort it out!”

“Don’t touch me, devil.” Magath pushed their hand away.

While the two of them were about to argue, Zeke gestured with his head for you and Annie to walk away before you got caught up in it.

“You weren’t there for the cleanup mission,” Annie noted right away. “I had to carry all the corpses because Reiner was freaking out about Bertholdt.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t have an excuse so I promise I’ll help you next time.”

She waved her hand towards her squad. “I bet you will.”

You noticed her smiling and scoffed while you gestured your own squad to come towards you. “I keep my word.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. You better learn to keep your squad in control, your idiots are more manageable than Reiner. You’re lucky to have those candidates with you.”

“You’re right. My idiots are easier to handle but that doesn’t mean they will inherit the titans. We’re a shitshow, your idiots have the courage, mine don’t.”

“We’re right here, (name),” Connie deadpanned and walked past you towards the ship after grabbing the paper you handed out to him.

“We have to train hard if we wanna be anything like these monsters,” you yelled after him but he was shaking his head, refusing to listen.

“Monsters?” Pieck raised a brow as she took a paper from Annie. “Is that what you think of your comrades, (name)?”

“No,” you said. “We spent all those years training altogether yet nobody from my squad can be compared to any of your strength.”

Pieck nodded languidly but Porco put a hand on her shoulder to push her forward. “Keep moving, we have to get food before that pig.” He gestured towards Sasha who stood at the end of the line with a worried look on her face, waiting impatiently for her turn to get on the ship.

“I’ll keep her busy, you guys should head inside.” You were smiling at them.

Pieck chuckled before leaving. “You’re too considerate for a warrior.”

“Uhh, where’s Armin and Eren?” Jean asked while taking the paper from you. He checked the planning and the schedule briefly.

“I don’t know, Captain Levi told me he would bring them here later,” you answered.

“Keep it moving, horse face,” Ymir shoved Jean away to grab one of the papers before walking away. “Good luck with the potato girl, (name).”

You looked at Annie who was already done handing out papers and was walking inside with her squad. Reiner was walking beside her, head down and shoulders slouched. He was still upset over Bertholdt losing against Armin.

“Um… Can we go inside now?” Sasha asked after ten minutes of standing outside.

“No, we’re waiting for uhh…. Armin.”

She sighed audibly and clutched on your arm. “You were right, dinner is the most important meal of the day… I’m so hungry, (name). Let’s go eat. Armin will find his way to the ship nonetheless if we wait for him… Please…”

Okay. Perhaps you could let her go now. Others must have gotten their food and all.

“You’re right, let’s-”

Sasha left your side and ran inside the ship without letting you finish your sentence. Sometimes, you wished you could be as honest as her. Life would be so much easier.

“(name).”

You stood at attention, keeping your head up.

“Commander Erwin!”

“At ease.” He looked around before speaking. “Is everyone from your squad inside?”

“No sir. Armin isn’t here. Eren from Annie’s squad isn’t here either.”

“Hmm, Levi will be bringing them here. We’re waiting for their car to arrive with the special force soldiers.” He put a hand on your shoulder and spun you around to pat on your back, pushing you forward. “Now, go inside and get some rest.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the dining compartment, Sasha was eating next to Niccolo who was still serving food. You walked over to the duo and the chef gave you a tray of food. “Good work today.”

“Thanks,” you replied and joined the rest of your squad on a table.

“I’m telling you, when I become the Cart Titan, I will have all of the ladies coming after me!” Connie smirked, “Everyone wants to get married to a Marleyan Warrior so they can live an easy life.”

“So you accept that no woman would tolerate you unless you have a red armband?” Ymir laughed. “Oh man… you are pathetic.”

The color drained from Connie’s face and he sat in silence.

“Besides,” Ymir said as you were taking the seat next to hers, “You’ll lose the Cart Titan against Pieck. That woman is unmatchable.”

You nodded to agree.

“Hey,” Jean hissed, slamming his cutlery on the table. “We’re all candidates. There’s no way of knowing who will get chosen and who will not be-”

“We’re the Paradis Squad, Jean,” Ymir groaned. “We’re the castaways, the second options, or better yet, we’re the backup plan for the Marleyan military.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed her.

“What? It’s the truth and nobody will hear us with the rumbling coming from the engine of the ship. We all know Armin got chosen to inherit the titan only because Bertholdt was a crybaby.” She took a bite from her bread and chewed slowly to speak at the same time. “That’s why you have to work harder than that Monkey Squad to be able to inherit whatever titan you're a candidate for.”

She was right but you needed her to shut up. The rest of the idiots hadn’t caught up with how unfair this candidate game was. Not yet.

“So you don’t wanna inherit the Jaw Titan?” Jean asked the most stupid question he could have.

“Why would I be in the military and become a candidate if I didn’t want to inherit the Jaw Titan?” Ymir was smirking widely, taunting the guys who saw as weak.

“But you keep saying we have no chance against those elite guys,” Connie whined.

“Oh, I will inherit the Jaw Titan. That Porco guy cannot even fight properly.” She had a dangerous glint in her eye as she glowered at Porco. He was omitting to her stare whilst eating next to Pieck.

“This isn’t a fair competition,” you added, tightly gripping your fork to stop the shaking of your hands. “You have to give it your best to win or it’ll all be for nothing. You’ll end up in the special forces and remain a devil in the eyes of Marleyans forever.”

“Dontcha worry, (name),” Ymir chirped, changing her tone effectively as she put her arm over your shoulder to pull you close. “You’ll inherit your titan. You’re the only one between these idiots who deserves to be a titan warrior.”

“Are you dumb?” Connie raised a brow. “(name) will never inherit a titan as long as War Chief is the Beast Titan.”

“He doesn’t get to decide who’ll inherit the titans. It’s Magath and the other Marleyans.” Jean spoke, his voice was blank, devoid of any emotion. “I thought our commanders decided which one of us it’d be when the time came but… apparently it’s the Marleyans who choose everything regarding if we’re inhumane enough.”

“Ah.” You could see it in his face. He was putting the pieces together slowly. After almost seven years in the military, he was finally grasping the bitter reality and the harsh truth of the future. “You realized that Armin wasn’t actually chosen for his talents, huh?” There was silence before you spoke again. “If you want to inherit a titan, you need to rid yourself of your humanity.”

Jean nodded knowingly and took a sip from his water with shaky hands.

It was half an hour later when the ship finally moved forward. It could only mean one thing… They were here.

Everyone except Ymir got up from their seats in the dining compartment. Seconds later the famous trio and Bertholdt walked inside.

“Armin!” Jean walked up to his comrade and hugged him while the other squad was welcoming their friend. “You’re too lucky!”

“Yeah, man! He’s gonna be treated like a celebrity now,” Connie was smirking as everyone from your squad started crowing around the blonde.

Armin blushed faintly, “I’m still me.”

“How does it feel?” you asked, curious if his body was going through any changes.

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Hey, where’s your red armband, huh?” Connie pointed at Armin’s yellow armband.

“He’s gonna get it when we get back home,” Eren replied instead and pushed his friend forward. “Now move away, we are starving.”

“Eren,” Mikasa warned, her eyebrows furrowing. “Everyone is excited, he’s the first one between you all to inherit a titan.”

Eren ignored her and walked towards the table Niccolo was serving food with Armin.

“He’s probably jealous. He just won’t admit it,” you reassured and patted on Mikasa’s back. “We’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

She nodded slowly and met your gaze. “Thanks.” After that, she reluctantly had to leave to join the special force soldiers in their own department.

Bertholdt was here for the last time, saying goodbye to his comrades. Soon, he would join Mikasa in the special force and if you were not careful you would too.

One year. Only one year left of your seven-year candidate program. Only one year until you inherited a titan or lost everything.

Anything could happen and things could go south. Just as today or when War Chief inherited his titan a couple of years ago.

Connie put a hand on your back and led you back to the table. You sat in between Ymir and Eren. The other three guys sat on the opposite side. Sasha was still busy devouring the food her supposedly lover had made for her.

“Shouldn’t you sit with your own squad?” you said jokingly.

“It’s none of your business.” Eren started eating, ignoring Jean who started scolding him for talking rudely.

Well, you knew he was upset that Armin inherited a titan before himself. The fact that his friend was stronger than him now hurt his ego and superiority complex.

“You should at least try to get along with people,” you said softly. “After this year, we won’t be forced to hang out together anymore.”

“I am here to kill all of my enemies, not make friends.” Eren had never changed from the day he joined the candidate program. He was always hot-headed and full of an ego that couldn’t be humbled. In these seven years, he hadn’t once actually tried working together with anyone. He acted like he was better than anyone else. “It’s because of your stupid airhead that the Colossal Titan’s inheritor got injured. If only you paid more attention to the war, Armin wouldn’t have lost a year of his training.”

“Hey!” Jean raised his voice, “It was nobody's fault. Don’t go accusing people for no reason.”

His attitude was finally getting to you, making you drop your facade for the first time in years. “Actually, the Colossal’s holder got injured because of you. It was all your fault. If you hadn’t gone into a rampage like you always do, we would have noticed that the enemy had titan spears on top of their walls.”

Your comrades all stopped eating, Ymir was giving you a look for you to shut up and Connie was kicking you under the table. “You really went and said it,” Jean groaned.

Eren continued eating despite how badly his hands were trembling from anger.

“(name), let’s not start a fight,” Armin whispered but his advice went unheard.

“You know you don’t belong in the military,” Eren suddenly laughed. “Everyone thinks that you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” you firmly answered. “This is the only place I belong.”

“You don’t belong in the military,” Eren insisted. “Don’t lie to your comrades.”

“Oh, now we’re comrades?” You glared at him and put your hand over your heart. “I pledged loyalty to serve Marley.”

“We all did.” Eren waved his hand dismissively. “There’s nothing special about you. I am here to kill all of my enemies, you’re here so you can live rich. That’s why I will inherit the Attack Titan and you won’t.”

For a single moment, your face showed pure panic at what he had just said.

“You really think that way?” Ymir forcefully scoffed, “What now? We’re all useless-?”

“You are. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be in this squad. You’re all nothing but a second choice.” Eren lifted his gaze up to Armin. “He is the smartest of them all, the Colossal Titan never needed a fighter. It needed a brain.”

Ymir’s smirk dropped and she let out a low sigh of discomfort. Jean and Connie were glowering at Eren while you were humbled by him once again.

You tend to forget how you actually were nothing. Titans needed a fighter, Marley needed a fighter. The Attack Titan needed a fighter.

You were only smart, you couldn’t fight as well as Eren and you weren’t a natural-born leader like him.

Against him, you had no chance of winning. This wasn’t about who was the smartest, the most powerful, or the most inhumane. Each titan needed something specific. The Colossal needed a brain, the Female needed strength, the Armored needed wrath, the Jaw needed speed, the Cart needed stamina and the Attack Titan needed… a leader.

Are you a leader?

“I will inherit the Attack Titan.” Your voice quivered but you stood tall and proud.

“You have no chance of winning against me.” He was confident, rightfully so.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that you were in this situation, it wasn’t fair that Eren Yeager was going to destroy your life. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who got hurt all the time.

“You don’t belong in the military and you don’t belong here with us.” Eren put down his cutlery, nobody else dared to speak.

You were getting angrier and starting to tremble in rage. “I’m sorry but I’m not willing to run away from my responsibilities like you.” Your brows furrowed and your teeth were clenched as you practically yelled, “I will inherit the Attack Titan no matter what.”

Eren scoffed as he was looking at your eyes that were burning with rage, “Good luck, then.”

~~~

You were going to kill him.

“Don’t think much about it,” Ymir said.

“Y-yeah, he’s saying all that because he thinks he’s the strongest.” Sasha was trying her best to come up with words that would sound comforting but it was hard. She wasn’t present during your argument.

“He’s confident because his brother is the Beast Titan,” you hissed. “Zeke got lucky. If Mr. Ksaver hadn’t had a heart attack, he wouldn’t be here. If only the other candidate wasn’t away… Then he wouldn’t be the Beast Titan.”

“Hey,” Ymir warned. “Don’t say things that can get you in trouble.”

“Says the girl who bad mouths everyone.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“A-anyway!” Sasha pulled the sheets over her head, “Let’s just sleep! You’ll forget about this tomorrow.”

“I agree with the piggy for once.” Ymir reached towards the candle and blew it out. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight,” Sasha murmured happily.

You were silent.

There had to be a way to get Eren out of the picture.

~~~

You couldn’t sleep, even though both Ymir and Sasha had already passed out. Today was exhausting for everyone yet every time you closed your eyes, you were seeing Eren getting the Attack Titan.

Kicking off your sheets, you jumped out of your bed to take a walk and calm yourself.

As soon as you left the room, you started wandering in the ship without a destination in mind. Without realizing it, you kept walking to the deeper, darker parts of the ship where there wasn’t a single light on. However, thanks to you being discalced, you could feel it when the floor under your feet changed height or direction. It helped you get around the tight hallways but you still had no idea of your whereabouts nonetheless.

Maybe it was a bad idea to be wandering around.

That was until you heard a sound that shook you internally. Your head whipped to the right, a large metal door was inviting you.

You could hear the familiar voices of people and hushed yelling from the other side of the door. Out of curiosity, you pressed your ear onto the door to listen.

“- stop causing trouble before they kick you out. If you don’t get the Attack Titan all of our parents’ efforts will all be for nothing.”

“You say that as if I won’t inherit the titan.”

That was… Those were the Yeager brothers.

“That girl, she’s obedient. She will get the upper hand if you don’t get your act straight, Eren.”

“It doesn’t matter if she gets the Attack Titan, you can give me your spinal fluid and I’ll eat her.”

“Eren!” A slam. You flinched, covering your mouth to keep quiet. Zeke had slammed his fist on a table or a wall. “Enough innocent Eldians died. You have to prove yourself worthy and earn the Attack Titan. Hanji and Erwin found who Marley was feeding the Founding Titan to. It’s some poor family by the outskirts of the city. We finally have all of the information we need. All you have to do is follow the plan.”

“The plan is that I inherit the Attack Titan, it doesn’t matter how I do it.”

Your heart was pounding, a cold sweat slicking your skin as you continued listening to them in terror. Did they want to betray Marley?

They were…

They were traitors.

“The plan is that you inherit the Attack Titan and become the symbol of hope for our people. If it weren’t for Levi or Mikasa, you wouldn’t be alive today. You need to prove to our people that you’re worthy of leading them to a better future. You must be convincing because nobody will riot against Marley if some bastard with anger issues eats the Founding Titan.” Zeke’s voice sounded conflicted. “Once you become the beacon of hope, you have to bring us peace. No more wars, Eren. We had enough wars.”

Eren spoke again after a long pause. “Do you think we should let them live after all they’ve done, Zeke?”

“Eren, we aren’t showing mercy to Marley. We are only ending the wars for our sake. Eldians have fought enough.”

Your eyes widened and a sickening smile spread across your face. This… This was your chance. You were going to become the Attack Titan. All you had to do was find a Marleyan, Magath… Anyone!

Taking a step back, you took a quick look around you before starting to walk further down the hall. As long as you revealed the truth about the Yeager brothers, you would inherit the Attack Titan. They were going to be banished and hopefully, executed. You were speeding down the hallway, keeping your hand on the wall to use it as a guide.

You couldn’t believe it, they were planning to betray Marley and eat the Founding Titan. Why would they even do that? You didn’t know and didn’t need to know. All you knew was that now, you were guaranteed to inherit the Attack Titan.

No matter how long you walked, you never came to the end of the hallway.

What if Commander Erwin, Captain Levi, and the Squad Leader Hanji were in it too?

What about Mikasa and Armin? Were they in this too?

If you snitched on the Yeager brothers would they kill all of your other comrades?

They wouldn't, right?

Honestly, they were all better off dead.

You walked for a few more minutes until you had worked up the nerve to make a run for it. Your palm was clammy as you kept sliding your left hand on the wall and, without looking back, you darted down the hallway praying to whoever was listening that it wasn’t a dead end and would lead you to Magath’s office.

You got lucky and came across the dining compartment. At least you were getting somewhere, you only had to keep running. For a while, you followed the wall around without stopping but when you saw a silhouette ahead of the hallway, you skidded to a stop.

In the dark, you couldn’t make out who it was but you continued walking, hoping that it was a Marleyan or anyone you could tell about the Yeager brothers and their plan of attacking Marley.

There stood a glorious Marleyan soldier, Yelena.

You were going to win.

A wild grin spread across your face and you took a step forward at the same time Yelena became aware of your presence.

“Good evening,” she said, you could hear the smile in her voice. “Mr. Yeager.”

Your own grin dropped and you felt a large hand landing on your shoulder, gripping you tightly.

“Yelena, I told you to keep on the lookout.” Zeke’s voice was calm despite being caught. “This one eavesdropped on me and my brother as it seems.”

Yelena did something you had never seen a Marleyan soldier do to an Eldian before and she saluted Zeke. “My condolences, sir. Shall I kill her?”

“What?” It was you, voice breaking and heart hammering in your ribcage. What kind of conspiracy was going on here? “Miss Yelena, we have to tell Magath about this-”

“No, it’ll bring too much attention to us. I’ll handle it,” Zeke ignored your words and replied Yelena instead.

The woman nodded and stood at ease. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Keep an eye on the hallways. I don’t need any more of these miscalculations.” Zeke’s hand moved to the back of your neck, he grabbed you tightly and turned around to walk away with you.

Your hands went to pry his hands off of you but it was futile, despite his looks, Zeke was stronger than you. As he was forcing you to walk the way you ran from, you spoke through your teeth. “I will kill you. I’m going to scream now and everyone will know that you-”

“We’re on a ship, (name). If I transformed right now, everyone would be dead. Everyone.” He was speaking calmly again but his grip around the back of your neck tightened, making you whimper in pain. “Do you want to risk it? I don’t think you would survive. Neither would anyone else other than Armin Arlert. If he managed to turn into the Colossal Titan before the ship sinks, that is.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you hissed, biting back a sob.

“You don’t know where you stand just like Eren,” he sighed in irritation this time.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to betray Marley? Don’t you feel guilty of the things we devils have done to them?” You were spitting out your words, an animalistic snarl rose up from your stomach. “You traitors!”

“The war must end,” Zeke said. “What we’ve done to Marley in the past was unforgivable but the way we’re being used as weapons against other countries… We will always continue to repeat history if we don’t end the war. And-”

“I will inherit the Attack Titan and stop you all.” Your limbs started to shake violently, you tried twisting your body to escape his hold but it was all futile.

“Didn’t you hear my brother? I can turn him into a pure titan and feed you to him.” Zeke leaned in to whisper, his voice carried a dark promise. He was serious.

You didn’t dare to utter a single syllable more. Your bottom lip was trembling as the realization of how bad your situation actually was started to settle in.

What you had thought to be your advantage against Eren was going to get you killed. You had no idea how many people were involved in this. Yelena had saluted Zeke as if he wasn’t a devil. A Marleyan bowed down before an Eldian.

How dare she betray Marley like that? Eldians did nothing but cause wars, you were all the devils who killed. You were a curse, a waste of space and air. To earn your place in this cruel world, you had to dedicate yourself to Marley. And-

Oh, how amusing to think like a loyal dog.

A giggle escaped from your lips.

Zeke raised a brow but continued forcing you down the hallway until the two of you reached a door. He pushed the door open and shoved you inside before walking after you.

“This is your first chance to prove yourself to me,” Zeke spoke. You immediately knew he wasn’t talking to you.

Stumbling forward, you fell on the ground. You used your hands to push yourself up as the door closed, seconds later you heard it being locked.

“Devoted as usual, (name).” Eren crouched in front of you and grabbed you by your hair to pull your head back. “Do you think Marley would care if you died? I think they’d replace you with one of the many other soldiers.”

“Eren,” Zeke sighed. “Are you listening to me?”

The younger brother hummed lowly in response but proceeded to glare at the terrified expression on your face.

“She’s been brainwashed from birth by Marleyan propaganda. Every Eldian in Marley is like her. Their thoughts and motives are all the same.” Zeke took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief he took out from his pocket. “I want you to teach her the truth and prove yourself to be a true leader.”

“Why should I? Is it so we can keep her alive?” Eren scoffed, lips curling up into a smile. “I wouldn’t mind killing her now, throw her off deck and tell everyone else she jumped herself-”

“Eren.” Zeke was tired, so tired of all the killings. So tired of the wars and deaths. He wanted peace. He wasn’t made for fighting, Mr. Ksaver knew that but still gave him the Beast Titan. Mr. Ksaver believed that Zeke could lead the Eldians to peace. To a life without any wars or deaths. Zeke knew he could lead his people to freedom but he couldn’t fight. He wasn’t powerful enough to eat the Founding Titan himself. That was the only reason he needed Eren for.

Why father?

Why did you fail at parenting your sons?

Grisha raised Zeke with hatred for Marley and tried embedding that fighting spirit he wanted so much into the little Zeke but failed. Immediately after his mother, Dina’s death, Grisha married another woman and had Eren. Only then Grisha came back to his senses and raised his younger son with love.

Yet, Eren turned out the exact way he desperately wished Zeke would be like when he was raising him.

Ironic if not poetic.

He sent both of his sons to the candidate program and here they were; Zeke trying his best to speak some sense into Eren while all his little brother talked about was killing everyone.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Wasn’t he tired of it all?

He returned to the present, barely a second had passed.

“If you can’t convince one Eldian woman to join our cause then you’re not befitted to inherit the Attack Titan. I can always find another candidate who will take orders.” Zeke’s tone was colder than ice. He put his glasses back on and glowered down at his younger brother.

Eren’s sinister smile faltered and he frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t you understand?” Zeke clapped his hands together, raising his voice. “How can I give you the power to lead all of the Eldians if you can’t even lead a single brainwashed woman?”

“Fine.” Eren’s grip around your hair tightened and he slammed your face onto the ground out of a sudden.

You tried breathing but when you inhaled you only tasted blood. Your nose was bleeding furiously and the pain was unbearable. A whimper escaped your lips, his attack had been too abrupt.

“Eren!” The older brother took a step forward to stop his younger brother.

“Get out, Zeke.” Eren lifted your face up from the ground to show your blood-covered face to his brother before slamming it back down with a ferocious smile.

“Don’t hurt-”

“What? I’m not killing her, I’m knocking some sense into her,” Eren replied nonchalantly, lifting your face up once again. He grinned at you and lied to your face. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just leave us alone.”

Zeke hesitated, his eyes were on you who was desperately trying to mouth something. The bottom half of your face was covered in blood and the stream of blood continued painting your neck and nightgown red.

“Don’t you trust me, big brother?” Eren knew what he was doing.

“Y-yes,” Zeke dragged a hand up his face, lifting his glasses in the process. He let his cold hand rest over his eyes and turned around on his heels. “I’ll be back in the morning, I’ll tell Yelena to guard this hallway.”

Your voice wouldn’t come out, your lips were trembling too much and the pain was overwhelming your senses.

When Zeke opened the door and closed it behind him, Eren lowered his face next to yours, “A slave to Marley, that’s what you are, (name). Loyal dogs like you disgust me. Do you bark when you’re told to? Won’t you bark for me?”

You used your entire strength into collecting all of your saliva and blood you had in your mouth on top of your tongue and spitting his face.

Your spit landed on his cheek and he looked unimpressed. He stared at you with boredom before shoving your face down onto the ground.

“I’ve always wanted to mess up your pretty face, (name).” He carded his fingers through your hair almost lovingly as you gargled in your own blood, coughing repeatedly. “Maybe if you were in the special forces, I’d have the chance-”

“You’re more pathetic than I thought,” you got over your coughing fit and spoke clearly. “Do you really believe people will betray Marley just because some egoistic guy with a superiority complex has the Founding Titan?”

Eren stopped petting your hair and flipped you over so he could watch your blood-covered face as you desperately tried to talk your way out of this. “I’m a slave to no one. I’m more of a leader than anyone alive,” he said as he glared at you.

“Yeah and for how long? Thirteen years? You’ll die when you’re thirty-three, what will be your biggest accomplishment?” you laughed at him. He was too stupid to see the bigger picture but you were going to make him see it.

“Bringing freedom to my people and-”

“What about Mikasa?” you asked, cutting his sentence short. You knew his weak point, you knew he treasured her. “Don’t you want to grow old with her?”

“Oh, her?” Eren hummed in thought. “She’s more of a loyal dog to me than anything.”

Your face contorted into something vile in disgust, the way he was dehumanizing her, your friend and comrade… It... It hurt more than it should have.

“You’re full of filth, nobody would let you lead them,” you gritted your teeth.

“You’re also full of lies. I can see right through you, we’re the same.” He grabbed your cheeks by the sides with a hand and squeezed them until your mouth opened from the force. He used his other hand to wipe your spit from his face and he spat in your mouth. “That goody-two-shoes act? You can charm everyone but me with that. I’m not stupid enough to fall for your lies.”

You gagged, wanting to spit his spit back out but he had pried your jaw open, it was impossible to get it out. You had to swallow.

Eren watched with sick amusement and you helplessly swallowed his spit.

Then, laughter filled the room.

It was you.

Raising a brow, he stared at you. Maybe, you were finally going insane.

“You can’t feel good about yourself unless you prove yourself to be the strongest, right, Eren?” You rolled over to try to get up from the ground. “It must feel good to be entrusted with leading some idiots into what you call freedom, huh? You must feel like a God!”

“Did I break you already?”

You wobbled as you got back up on your feet. The front of your nightgown was covered in blood and you could still taste your own blood, smell it too. You lifted your nightgown up to your face from the collar to wipe your nose.

“Break me? Maybe my nose but I’m smarter than you are. I can see everything clearly, I’ve been watching these people for years. I know who you are, a pitiful little kid trying to become the strongest to prove his worth. You’re never good enough, right?”

“You don’t know me, (name).” Eren was getting angry, your assumptions were upsetting him.

“I know you better than anyone else, Eren. You’re just a brat trapped in an adult’s body. You believe the answer is to kill all of your enemies and you’re worth nothing to anyone. Nobody likes you but your only two friends. One has already signed his contract to die and the other one is nothing to you, right? A pet as you said?” You were chuckling, taunting him to fight you even though you knew he was going to win. “I was at least smart enough to make them all trust me. If I become the Attack Titan, I will become a leader loved by everyone. I could carry out Zeke’s plan and follow orders better than you do. Don’t you think Zeke would love to have someone who obeys his orders to inherit the Attack Titan?”

His brows furrowed and he grumbled as he spoke. “You don’t believe our cause. Zeke won’t trust you.”

“Oh, now it’s your cause? I thought you were in it just to feel powerful! Are you just feeling threatened by me? Is it because you know I’m better than you?” you barked out a laugh, “You don’t know me at all, Eren.”

It was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t speak or move. Neither did you. Not until you decided it was time to end this.

“I’ll inherit the Attack Titan for you and carry out Zeke’s mission. You’re too much of a coward to obey simple orders because you’re way too narcissistic to listen to anyone other than yourself.” You grinned, your blood-stained teeth and lips looked eerie in the dark dim light of a candle. “I’ll lead my people to freedom.”

“You’re brainwashed. You only want to serve Marley.” He was trying to remind you of something so dumb, just an accusation without any real evidence.

“Did you believe all that because I said it?” You took a step forward, pointing a finger at him and giggling. “Do you really believe I would be a slave to some country or a person like you? I live for myself and I have the blood of the devil inside of me. I am a dog that can’t be tamed. But you, Eren Yeager, you’re nothing. Just a feral dog.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Eren took a couple of steps forward and brought his fist up in the air.

“Is that all you can do?” You started walking backward to avoid him. “Is that your solution to everything? Just kill the person who doesn’t agree with you? You’re talking about killing too much. Are you going to kill everyone but the Eldians to bring them peace? Is that your smartest plan? You’re pathetic.”

“I’m going to beat you until you can’t run your filthy mouth again.” Eren leaped forward and grabbed you by your nightgown, now, he had you in his hands. “Any last words?”

“I bet your father never told you he was proud of you. Is that why you’re obsessed with power-”

Crack.

You felt the burning pain on the side of your face that wrecked your nerves as his fist met your cheek. It completely knocked the wind out of you and you found yourself on the ground, your body bounced on the solid surface before blood splattered out from your mouth.

“Your face looks better when it’s battered up like this. Red is definitely your color, (name).” His tone was light, almost as if he was finally feeling himself. “And you said I didn’t know you!” He let out an airy chuckle.

Writhing in pain on the ground, you reminded yourself that the pain was temporary. If you let him win now, you would never be able to win against him.

“I’m not…” you groaned in pain before continuing your talk. “I’m not some special force soldier you can toy with. Those poor girls may be scared of you but I can assure you that you don’t scare me, not even one bit. You’re nothing but a man child in my eyes.” You stood back up, refusing to stay down. “You can mess with all the girls you want below your rank but the power you feel over them won’t last forever. It barely lasts two minutes, is what I’ve heard.”

Despite how much pain you were in, you smirked at him as he stood right in front of you, his height towering over yours.

“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.” Grabbing you by the neck with one hand, he turned you around and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his hold but it was useless, you were far too exhausted and the earlier fight had taken the last bit of your stamina away from you.

Eren nosed some of your hair out of the way and breathed into your neck before taking a deep inhale. The sweet scent of you and your blood filled his senses, his eyelashes fluttered with unsettling joy.

“I bet,” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “They won’t let you inherit the Attack Titan if you were pregnant.”

With that, he pressed himself against you and forced you to feel his growing bulge beneath his pants.

Your eyes widened and you fought back with renewed vigor, ferociously kicking and shaking your body. “I’ll kill you if you touch me, you bastard! Do you hear me? I’ll feed you to the dogs!!”

“No need for that, (name).” Eren squeezed the sides of your neck, pressing you harder against his body. “You called me a feral dog, right? I’ll fuck you like one.”

You shook your limbs trying to dig your nails into the skin of his arms to fight back but he stopped you with one single move.

Eren opened his mouth and let his teeth sink into the soft skin of your neck. A scream escaped your lips as he bit you harder until he tasted blood and wrecked all of your nerves. Your arms flailed uselessly by your sides before your entire body went limp.

His free hand moved up to knead the supple flesh of your breast as he continued biting you and rocking his hips into you.

Once he decided he couldn’t take it anymore, Eren took his hand away from your breast and hurriedly tugged down his pants. You whimpered and tried twisting your body away from him but his bite on your neck was like a predator’s, it didn’t let you move anywhere. Like a lion biting into a gazelle’s neck to keep it in place before ferociously devouring the poor animal, Eren was keeping you in place with his teeth only. He wasn’t going to stop, not until he proved his strength to you. Not until he devoured you whole.

Your plan had backfired.

He pushed you forward and both of you stumbled forward. You fell on all fours and he stayed on top of you, still biting into your neck. Growling, he hiked the thin skirt of your nightgown up using a single hand.

A pained sob left your lips. “Please, don’t.”

Eren smiled into the bite. He always knew how to get under someone’s skin, no matter how thick it was. He also knew that his threat of impregnating you was nothing but a way of humiliating you, reminding you of your place, the power he held over you, and how with a single move he could ruin your entire life.

You were the one who was nothing.

The real untamed dog was Eren. Not you.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

How childish.

He was nothing but a manchild.

Eren slid your underpants to the side and pulled his cock out. You sobbed as he lined himself up against your entrance.

“I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you-ahh-”

With a sharp thrust of his hips, he inserted the entire length of his cock inside you. He slapped his large hand on your mouth to keep you quiet but it still couldn’t stop your muffled screams echoing in the room.

He had been wanting to do this for so long. Just to shut you up and ruin you, to remind you of your place. Ahh, the power he felt right now was indescribable. It was as if he was on the tallest mountain in the world and nobody else could reach him. He was the strongest. The best. The leader. The Attack Titan’s next holder and Eldia’s new King.

In his twisted mind, he was the ruler of everything. Him having you around him like this and ravishing you only boosted his ego but the feeling of a small train of blood trickling onto his cock and down your thighs made him go berserk with a massive amount of power.

The thought of your helplessness as he took your innocence like this made him grow larger inside your cunt.

He started moving without giving you a chance to prepare yourself for his cock. Involuntarily moaning, you curled your toes and bit your lip to hold back your next moan.

Eren finally pulled his teeth away from your skin and chuckled as he tentatively pulled his hips back before abruptly slamming them forward. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Placing both of his hands on your hips, Eren began fucking you frantically, putting his entire weight behind each thrust and stroking every spot inside of your walls. Your virgin walls started to take the shape of his cock, making you his perfect cock sleeve.

“You’re gonna regret this, Yeager,” you hissed but it broke into a moan as he mounted you completely, his hips moving with a frenzied speed, punching the air out of your lungs.

“So far, I’m enjoying it,” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine and causing your teeth to chatter rapidly. It was as if you were flung into a blizzard.

Your body wasn’t doing it because it was cold in the room. No. It was then, you felt it for the first time.

Fear.

He groaned in pleasure as he continued fucking you frantically like a rabid dog in heat. His pace was ruthless, each thrust of his hips was punishing and hit deep deep deep inside of your pussy.

You could feel the very shape and girth of him, he was embedding it into your memory. With each thrust, he was making sure that you wouldn’t be able to be fucked by anyone without thinking of him. You were only going to think of the smell of his sweat, the sharpness of his teeth, the shape of his cock, and his lingering, calloused hands. Nothing else.

Eventually, his animalistic pace slackened and his hips started to move staggeringly. He desperately tried stealing a few more thrusts to indulge in your warm and slick cunt by humping you like a desperate dog but your pulsating walls caught him off guard.

As your pussy clenched around his cock, he snapped his hips forward to bury his entire length inside of you. You gasped in unwanted pleasure when the tip of his cock prodded against your cervix, ready to paint your insides white.

Eren’s cock throbbed and thick spurts of his seed flooded your womb. You let out a horrifying sound and sobbed whilst the warm feeling spread across your belly. He pulled out to watch his cum drip out of your pussy with a sinister grin on his lips at the same time you felt tears streaming down your face.

He was cruel. Always had been. However, he had finally proved who was stronger between the two of you.

It was him, he was the strongest.

You had lost against the other candidate.

The most important of them all, you had lost your pride, all of that training you had gone through in seven years felt like it was for nothing.

“I will inherit the Attack Titan,” he declared, simple and to the point.

You nodded in response, throat clenching in despair as you cried in defeat.

#eren yeager x reader #lmao a lottt of worldbuilding bfehkebfrhjbrfe #comment down below if i should write my ending for aot JFHKGHTKRJ #i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!!

131 notes · View notes

pretty-face-breaker · 3 years

Text

Need to Ruin Him

c.w. aftermath of torture, cleaning up wounds, bad caretaking, intimidation, manhandling, torture by rubbing brine solution into welts, sadism, begging

—

The spring mattress creaked as Emir clattered on top of it.

“Take off-...” Pavel stopped, shooting a second look at his bare back, and audibly snorted. “Never mind, just… lie down and I’ll get things to make you look better.”

Emir whined as he tried to curl in on himself although the loosely tucked bedsheet stopped his arms from getting far. Breathing deep, he took in a whiff of wool and the smell of decay from the old sheets. He could see the almost invisible black speckling against the green, this close up and through his tears.

He wasn’t certain whether the shock of the whip-marks had worn off. He had only the vague understanding that his back hurt. There was dampness in his hair, the crooks of his body, and on his face but those quickly dried in salty tracks. Hardly there anymore.

“Bet that’s the last time you’ll do that,” Pavel mumbled. He could see the residue of his crying, the swollen eyes when he turned his head.

The General had spared no part of the exposed skin, it seemed.

Emir didn’t respond for a few moments as the quiet clutters of Pavel grouping equipment together filled the silence. Then, he lifted his head and the shift in breathing got the man’s attention. But all the abused boy was doing was pulling the corner of a pillow under his chin before he collapsed again.

Pavel raked his eyes up and down the body, once. Inhaled slowly before turning to stack the peroxide next to the rubber bandage seal. He remembered this one had been produced with a rubber cover so it wouldn’t disintegrate as easily as the paper ones had and recalled how the camp had looked on as the supply trucks had filled in with the equipment during daily drills.

He had jokingly saluted one of the drivers who had turned and smiled. A bright row of pearly whites had peaked beneath the moustache before he had gone ahead and returned the gesture. The image of the ideal worker had been complete.

Pavel had thought about that man for the rest of the week, inspired by the strength in the smile.

Spinning on his heel, he returned to where Emir lay half-conscious. “Hey, Suleiman. Look at me.”

There was a groan and shift. “Don’ call me that,” Emir protested weakly, although his voice was strained with pain and struggle to recognize where the two were. The view didn’t look like the flat one out of his bed with only an iron window and darkness.

The mattress dipped as he sat. “I’ll call you Edward, if I really want to.” Pavel encouragingly drove the heel of his hand into the boy’s lower back so he jerked and cried out feebly. The faded softness of that pretty little cry made Pavel’s heart race a little and he grinned against his better control. “Sit up or I do that again.”

Seeing no way out of moving, Emir sighed and winced his way to sitting, facing away from the blond man and his amalgamation of terrible-smelling instruments. Whatever chemicals those were, antiseptic, sterile bandages, they hardly smelled anything close to home. The word home and ‘стерильный’ met his mind at the same time when he threw a glance down to Pavel’s medical tray.

“Sterile,” he read. His throat scratched and the word broke in two.

Pavel had been tearing open the rubberized protector of the bandages when he stopped with a little smirk. “Yeah. Although, you don’t usually need reading abilities here unless someone sneaks in one of those raunchy magazines.”

Emir returned a mechanical smile as the rubber tore open until Pavel winked at him and it was then that he raised his eyebrows and broke into a heartier chuckle. Realizing that he had paid the cheap joke with laughter made him clench his jaw in annoyance.

It was never his intention to get amicable with the enemy but he supposed this one was patching him up which made it easier.

The bandages were out of the sleeve now - a roll of brown gauze, pin, and two sterile cotton pads. He did notice another thing though, and that was the unsealed opaque jar sitting next to all the bottles. Being close enough, he could almost catch a salty scent sharp in the air.

A hand quickly covered the top when Emir glanced up. Only slightly taller than him, Pavel’s cheeky smile had transformed into something crooked and cornering. “No peeking now,” he teased. Then, the tone quickly dropped to threatening, traced with amusement.

“Turn around and don’t make so much noise that people have to come up from an early lunch.”

Emir’s fingers were tightening around the sheets nervously but he didn’t want to give Pavel another reason to make him feel wave upon wave of the same agony he’d gone through minutes before. He exhaled softly and turned to lock eyes with the window, hoping he’d come across as ignorant enough of the jar.

But what did he care whether he knew? All the better for that sadistic fuck.

Emir didn’t expect the initial sting as Pavel dipped the cloth into the murky solution and lathered it across his back without warning. Fingers digging hard into the sheets, he squeaked and darkened instantly after, the noise being involuntary. A rumbling laugh made him shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Pavel eased him with his usual mockery of lightness. “This’ll do the trick for all those nasty welts, trust me.” Then, pressed the cloth deeper into one particular stripe that had sliced through him and rendered him speechless, killing the yell on his tongue as General Levkin had brought the leather down.

The yell was alive now and ripped through his teeth. He was too fucking tired to try to choke them back and what harm was it really? Pavel seemed pleased with the pitch of his wrecked voice and he could alleviate the burning that was eating through his back each time the rag switched directions.

He wasn’t cleaning, he was scrubbing him.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Argh-... Can you p-please go a bit easier?” He despised Pavel right now, for the pain before, the pain to come, and for rendering him to beg and refresh the dried tear tracks. Blinking quickly, Emir hoped he had caught the tears before they slipped.

“How else am I supposed to disinfect you? You’re not the first to get whipped.” Pavel’s lilt coiled around his back and legs.

“Just please-... a little- agh!”

Emir dropped his chin into his collarbone and squeezed. The strain on his neck was awful. The brine's stench was awful and so sharp in his nose, he swore something would start bleeding soon. At one particularly brutal dig, he gasped and arched away. Pavel’s hand shot to his shoulder and yanked him back in an instant.

“Stay still, you little shit,” he snarled.

Emir feebly whispered back. “It hurts.”

Pavel wanted to break into a cackle and tell him that of course it hurt and call him a whole assortment of insults for not realising he was doing it on purpose. Though, amidst the torment, he saw the way his light brown shoulders shook from how hard he gripped the mattress.

It was a satisfying sight, how hard he was trying to be quiet and then the next moment when he gave up and let his whimpers seep through teeth. A tug of war between his pride and just letting it happen.

“Plea-... mercy,” Emir gasped at last.

Pavel was mid-assault on another open welt when he stopped and let his wrist ease off, dropping finally. He choked out relief but the aftershocks of the salt still must have felt like fire.

Not once during the whipping had he even given the impression that he would beg for it. Not once, and Pavel had been fully confident that the little soldier would wait it out like he did everything with a dormant tongue. Looking at Emir now, he knew that just a little more would have him sobbing and begging in that sweet, wrecked voice-

Mercy, mercy, mercy

“Have mercy, please, God, m-mercy,” Emir hissed again. His arms shook as he held back a ruined sob. “I don’t deserve this.”

Pavel had stopped now. He was clouded with thoughts that weighed down his hands which were eager for another spin. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, whether for Emir to collect himself - if he could - or to have the thrill to hurt again, to push him over the edge.

The need to ruin him never came while he was thinking. It left him with dull annoyance as he realized he wanted to leave Emir alone, no longer bloodthirsty. It wracked his brain, the longer he debated just continuing.

He did deserve it and Pavel was entitled to do it.

Besides, Emir would probably look beautiful.

But he didn’t. He dropped the rag, saying nothing, and grabbed the alcohol bottle that was actually medically approved for use unlike his masterfully crafted brine solution. Dabbing some liquid onto a fresh cloth, he applied it gently to the welts but still got that thrill of joy when Emir flinched away.

“Alcohol,” he corrected quietly. “Not brine.”

Shivering from the cold and not the pain, Emir nodded weakly and straightened back into his spot. Another moment passed before Pavel was back to work and dabbing away at the redness until he felt the smell of antiseptic was strong enough and switched to the pads. Only two were available. One went on the worst laceration.

The second, on the one he had created by accident.

Emir was still shivering.

He unrolled the gauze and began wrapping it around the boy’s ribcage until the width of all fifteen feet trickled away. The roll felt so much lighter in his hand when he was finished applying it and pulling the end tight. He flicked it to the end of the bed, liking the little thunk it made at the metal footboard.

“Done.” Pavel pushed the tray away from him and Emir gathered up the strength to move.

“Thank-…” Then, a laboured swallow. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond. Emir looked beyond exhaustion. All he did was push his head gently down onto the pillow and let the rest of his limbs take their natural place for comfort.

He sat there for a long time, watching Emir’s chest rise and fall in even breaths, the sharp stench of alcohol and brine lingering in his nose for almost an hour.

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @heathenville @quirkykayleetam @yet-another-heathen @undertheburrow @lektricfergus

Ask if you’d like to be added/removed!

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #torture #caretaking #whumper as caretaker #bad caretaker #sadistic whumper #begging #manhandling #wartime whump #military whump #ussr #aftermath of torture

99 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 3 years

Text

Demon Comfort (3/3)

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 14 Sanders Sides: Logan, Virgil Blurb: Lurking under a Human’s bed should be downright dull for a Demon of Logan’s rank. And yet…he can’t help but be intrigued by his human charge. Fic Type: Demon!AU, Demon!Logan Overall Fic Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Freezing, Burning, Hazing Talk, Manipulation Taglist in reblog. To Catch Up: Part 1 Part 2

He’d been staring at the pages of the book Virgil had brought for him for hours now, not taking in a single word written there.

How could he when his charge was late.

Logan tsked, tail tapping a staccato against the bed frame as he flipped the book shut, turning his head to glare at the door, doing his best to ignore the twisting in his chest the--the worry that he was feeling.

Virgil could take care of himself. He knew that.

But after having to rescue his charge twice from life or death situations. It was...stressful, far more stressful than it should ever be, to wait for him to come back home from class. Especially since it was easily becoming clear that despite his craving for a fresh start, despite the fact that Logan had gone out and handily taken care of the six people responsible for nearly cooking his human in the boiler room, that Virgil still was not happy here.

Logan paused, tilting his head as he felt the first threads of the familiar thundercloud approaching. Finally. He relaxed when the bedroom door swung open, a black and purple backpack dropping to the floor a second later with a muted thud.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was trying to stick to the very last shreds of the rules of conduct between demon and human where he wouldn’t reveal himself unless Virgil called for him, Logan would have been out from under the bed in a flash demanding to know where in the world his charge had been and why he was only getting home now when Logan knew the boy had finished classes before lunch and had a mountain of unfinished final term papers to complete and--

Virgil dropped to his knees next to the bed, a purple blanket pooling at his feet. “Scoot over.” He said, not giving Logan a chance to react before shoving his way under the bed.

“Wha--WHY?!” He choked out in surprise. This wasn’t---Virgil had never indicated an interest in visiting him under here before.

Yet as soon as he caught sight of his tear streaked face, Logan found himself automatically lifting one wing and shifting his position to hold out an arm so he could slip underneath, a hot spike of anger rising in his chest. Virgil didn’t cry. He didn’t--What had happened to his dark and broody charge?

Virgil didn’t hesitate, ducking under both wing and arm to curl up into his chest, his soft hair tickling Logan’s chin as the boy choked back a sob, clinging to him. “Ju--just hold me for a minute, okay?” He whispered.

Logan lowered his wing, easily hiding him from view as he tightened his grip around him, holding Virgil close as he ran gentle claws through his hair. “Of course.” He said, careful to keep his voice from echoing.

He frowned up at the pitch black cloud that hung like an anvil over Virgil’s head, catching only glimpses of the past four hours of torture his charge had been through. Glimpses because Virgil’s thoughts were being slippery, his human not wanting him to know exactly what had gone wrong. Annoying that. He shouldn’t have admitted to being able to see and influence the boy’s thoughts. “You’re safe here.” He whispered, fighting the fury rising within him as Virgil broke down, hot tears dripping onto his chest.

“I-I know. I ju-just--” He shuddered. “I hate this place.”

Logan blinked. Huh? How was that--just this morning his charge had once again shrugged off the light meddling that he’d done to the tangle of thoughts over his head to try and convince him to leave! Yet Virgil had been firm in stating that he was fine here.

Obviously he wasn’t doing so fine if he hated being here.

Logan ran his claws through Virgil’s hair, observing those twisting thoughts with no intention of meddling at the moment.

No, he was seeking to understand why the sudden change of heart when nothing he had suggested had worked. “We both do. Why do you think I’ve been trying to convince you to leave?” The cold for one was getting tiresome. Spring should be bringing warmer temperatures and yet up here in the north it hardly felt like they’d come out of winter at all.

“I just--” The dark cloud over his head seemed to grow darker. “I just...wanted it to change you know? How can I be a thousand miles away from my old life, and yet everyone here still treats me like I’m the scum of the earth? I just--I just...wish someone here besides you would like me. You know? Where I could just--relax and not constantly be worrying if I’m secretly hated and they’re gonna try and--and--”

“Lock you in the janitor’s closet?” Logan asked, his chest rumbling with a suppressed growl as he finally found the thread leading to the event that Virgil had been trying to hide from him.

Even with him drastically reducing his meddling with Virgil’s thoughts, it seemed like his charge really couldn’t catch a break here. Especially if this--this freshman hazing kept up. Even if Virgil kept insisting that it was nothing and that his...peers’…antics should stay unreported to the police--not that that hadn’t stopped Logan from going off and enacting his own little revenge on the people that had threatened his human’s life--it would only be a matter of time before he would need to guard his charge twenty-four seven to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

That was no way for a human to live. A demon’s guardianship was hardly a good guardianship after all.

Virgil gave a bitter laugh, thoughts swirling, giving Logan glimpses of the faces of the new people torturing his charge.

It was a bittersweet realization that. Sure he was proud his ability to terrorize others hadn’t been dulled with this...softening towards this one particular human, but if getting rid of the one batch of rotten eggs only encouraged another group to take up the calling to make Virgil’s life miserable---

“They took my backpack this time.” He whispered, resting his head against Logan’s chest. “I had to MacGyver a way to melt the hinges off the door with chemicals from the closet before I could escape. Then it took me another hour to track down where they’d thrown my bag--at least I found it.”

Was that supposed to be reassuring? That this time, he’d managed to get free by himself? If it was...it didn’t make Logan feel any better. Not when it left his charge in tears.

Not when it left him wondering what would have happened if Virgil hadn’t managed to MacGyver-whatever that meant- his way out of his predicament. Just how long would it have been before Logan would have realized he wasn’t coming back? That he needed help? It just--that ache that--that worry in his chest only grew stronger at the thought.

Honestly, he didn’t understand most human devices, but if he needed to obtain a freaking cell phone and enchant it so that Virgil would always be able to contact him he would. The hassle would be worth it if it meant his charge would remain safe. That at the first sign of trouble Virgil could call for help and immediately receive it.

Better than leaving him wondering if Logan would find him in time. If he’d--- He exhaled. “I know it won’t mean much coming from me.” He whispered, committing to memory the faces of the people he needed to go take care of next, all too aware of how much he, himself, had contributed to his charge’s woes while here. “But you don’t deserve this.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, the dark cloud swirling over his head shifting to a lighter grey as he looked up meeting Logan’s slitted eyes. “I want to make a deal.”

He blinked, ignoring how his hearts leapt at the words every demon craved to hear at the unexpected phrase. “No you don’t.”

Virgil set his jaw, eyes unwavering. “I do.”

Logan frowned, fighting the desire to break eye contact to see what the twisting threads of thought were leading to. To find out why Virgil was requesting this now. No, it was best to hear it straight from the human himself.

He let out a slow breath. Knowing his charge, his reasoning would be convoluted and yet still make perfect sense. “I’m willing to hear you out, but I do not agree to agree to anything beyond that. You’ve already dealt with enough trouble in your life without adding a demonic deal to it.”

Virgil gave a wobbly smirk, hardly fazed as he tapped Logan’s chest with a single finger. “Your side.” He said. “You want me to move elsewhere. Want me to go to a different school. Someplace warmer. Safer.”

Logan gave a slow nod. “Yes?” Though wasn’t this deal supposed to be about what the human wanted to get instead of the demon?

“Then I’ll agree to moving. Even let you pick the school and the place I’ll stay at IF.” He stressed the word again tapping Logan’s chest. “You agree to three things first.”

Three things in exchange for one of safety? Typical human. He narrowed his eyes, tail tapping against the floorboards. “And those are?”

“One. You stop hiding under my bed like an overgrown dust bunny. Two. You become my roommate and go to the school you’ve chosen with me--don’t give me that look.”

Logan growled, tail dancing back and forth against the wall. He would give out all the looks he wanted thank you very much. Because that was---okay being out from under the bed would be wonderful but be a roommate?! “I can’t replace your need for human interaction and companionship, Virgil.”

Sure, it did make a nice loophole that his superiors couldn’t argue against because the human had requested his near-constant presence in this deal. But it couldn’t work. Demons and Humans weren’t meant to be roommates. It was hardly a healthy relationship when Logan had the ability to manipulate Virgil’s thoughts! Plus! Figuring out an adequate human disguise to uphold all hours of the day in order to go to school would be a nightmare and a half with the rituals and the charm work involved to hide his demonic looks.

“Three.” Virgil continued, ignoring Logan’s outburst, the cloud above his head shifting closer to white as he grew more fond of how this deal was turning out. “You pick out our other roommate or roommates. Ones who know you are a demon so you won’t have to disguise yourself when you’re home.”

That was---huh. So he’d only have to look human while in public? Logan tsked, claws carefully brushing Virgil’s tear streaked cheeks, his wings quivering with the urge to agree to this--this foolhardiness as his mind raced to find any downsides for his end of this deal. For any loopholes to exploit despite him not wanting to do anything of the sort to Virgil. Not when his charge was finally finally willing to move away from this awful place.

Except there was one problem. The humans.

“Most humans who willingly interact with demons are not the sort of individuals I would trust to room with you.” He said, shaking his head. His goal was to keep Virgil safe. Not set him up for further attempts on his life.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “I specifically said those who know you are a demon, Lo. That doesn’t have to mean they’ve interacted with others.”

Clever. “But I don’t interact with other humans!” If he hadn’t broken the rules, Virgil would never be having this conversation with him in the first place because he wouldn’t know Logan existed. “Demons don’t interact with humans unless they are summoned. How am I--!”

“I never summoned you though. And yet here we are.”

Logan had to look away at that. Avoid staring at the positively smug face his charge was giving him. “That’s different.” He finally muttered. Most demons didn’t care what happened to the humans they dealt with. Logan was an outlier in that sense. Sent to lurk under a bed as punishment and instead found that he liked it even if Virgil’s stubborn nature drove him up the wall most of the time.

“Different because you were hiding under my bed for who knows how long?”

He grimaced. It hadn’t even been a year yet. Not that long at all in human terms. “In a way.”

He flinched as Virgil placed a palm against his cheek, turning his head back to face him. “You were the monster under my bed until you decided I needed a Guardian instead.” He said softly. “Why can’t you go find another human whose needs are similar to mine? Find someone we both can get along with. And once you do, I’ll move wherever you want me to for school. Those are my terms.”

Logan hardly cared if another human liked him. He was a demon. Humans were supposed to fear his kind. But Virgil? His human needed a good roommate. One that would want to be around him, unlike Virgil’s current set that barely acknowledged his existence unless it was his turn to take out the trash. However, if he was out hunting for this good roommate…that would mean--

“I can hardly be considered a Guardian if you’re left defenseless while I’m off searching who knows where for who knows how long for this hypothetical person!” Logan retorted. “You would have to allow me to establish a means to ensure you’re safe while I am gone or that you could summon me if you find yourself in danger before I would even consider--”

“What sort of thing?”

Logan frowned. Was the stress of three near death attempts addling his charge’s mind? Perhaps the air underneath the bed was’t flowing properly--he shifted, teleporting them both onto Virgil’s bed where he could have this conversation in a more proper format. After all, humans didn’t usually make deals under their beds. Though it probably was too much to expect his charge to draw a sigil on the floor. Not if he wanted his deposit back.

He kept a wing securely around Virgil as the human adjusted his position to rest more comfortably against him, a move that should be more counter-intuitive despite Logan’s proclamations of keeping him safe. There was too much trust here. Virgil had hardly done more than sharply inhale at them suddenly appearing on top of his bed.

“So?” He asked once he was comfortable, fingers brushing against the inside of Logan’s wing. “What sort of thing were you thinking?”

Logan shrugged a shoulder, trying to not focus on how relaxed Virgil was with him. “...I was considering a cell phone.”

The laugh his charge let out shouldn’t make his hearts flutter so.

Virgil grinned, shaking his head, the storm cloud above him glittering brightly despite it’s shifting state. “That’s so...human, Lo. But what if it dies? What if I get mine taken away? They’re hardly reliable despite how much I use mine. Isn’t there a sort of…” He waved a hand around. “Sigil or spell or mark? Something that you can place on me?”

Yes. But--

Before he could speak his charge ducked out from under his wing, grabbing at his backpack on the floor and digging into it. “I could draw something on me.” He offered, pulling out a pen. “And then you enchant it or whatever to--are you okay?”

That was---ha. Logan swallowed, wings shifting back as he looked his human in the eyes. “That is...it’s not a light commitment to make, Virgil.” He finally answered. “You shouldn’t allow any demon, let alone me--” Despite how much he desperately wanted it. It would be so much easier to ensure he could protect Virgil than using a cell phone. “--to mark you so. I doubt you want a permanent connection to me and a sigil once placed on living flesh cannot easily be removed.”

Virgil tapped his pen against his lips, tilting his head as he silently studied Logan.

His tail twisted at the scrutiny. “It’s too much of a risk.” He repeated, holding his hands palm up. “You have no guarantee that I will remain a...Guardian to you.” Though at this point he couldn’t see him being anything else. “I am a Demon. It’s not in our nature to--”

He cut off as Virgil reached out, resting his hands in Logan’s clawed ones, gently squeezing them. “Lo.”

His hearts skipped a beat at the nickname. Gah. If Virgil ever figured out how being called Lo truly affected him, far more than any deal would, he would be completely done for--he flinched, inhaling sharply as a purplish glow appeared, covering both of their hands as his charge gave a small smirk.

“You’ve saved my life twice now.” He said softly, leaning forward, unfazed by the glow.

Though of course Virgil would have no idea that this wasn’t normal, not when Logan hadn’t done anything!

“That’s hardly a demon’s nature now is it? To save someone? Someone who made no deal to gain such protection?”

….No. It wasn’t normal. He knew that. He-- Logan made a sound in his throat as the purplish glow shifted between them winding like a ribbon around their wrists. He eyed it warily, it was a sign, despite the fact that the glowing ribbon should be red instead of purple, that a deal was being struck though Logan had made no active attempt to initiate one. Hadn’t wanted--

“You’re no ordinary demon, Lo.”

No...he wasn’t much like the others was he? Interacting with humans...a human...with Virgil willingly without being compelled to. To want to protect his charge, seeking to help him instead of...well...continuing to make him suffer.

“If you don’t want the mark on me to be permanent then make it temporary.” Virgil said, maintaining eye contact. “Make it last as long as you need it to. But I know you know you want to know I’m okay. Is this not a good way to go about it?”

His breath caught in his throat. There was too much trust in him here. Far too much. Virgil didn’t know what he was getting into. He couldn’t--it wasn’t safe. “I don’t--” Logan swallowed, fingers trembling in Virgil’s hands as the ribbon pulsed around them. “A demonic deal is never safe.” He couldn’t risk his charge like this. Something would go wrong. It wasn’t worth it. “I don’t want to make this type of deal. Any deal with you.” He whispered, wings fluttering with heat as he broke eye contact, bowing his head to his charge.

“Lo?” Virgil adjusted his grip, squeezing his hands.

He shuddered, eyes burning despite his inability to shed tears, his hearts pounding like the drums of war as he clung to those hands, careful always careful so that his claws wouldn’t pierce his delicate flesh, wouldn’t draw blood to seal whatever deal this purple ribbon was trying to instigate. He couldn’t hurt him.

“It’s not proper.” He said softly. “A demon shouldn’t care about this. A demon would just say yes. But I can’t. Because I do. I care. I just want you safe, Virgil. Protected. Happy. A deal won’t-- I can’t---a demon can’t--”

“Perhaps.” Virgil tilted his head, peering up into Logan’s slitted eyes. “You should stop thinking of yourself as a demon then.”

He blinked, wings drawing back as the purple ribbon pulsed. “What?” But that--that’s what he was. Sure, he wasn’t acting like one currently, but no one would look at him and think he was anything else.

“Well...you’ve already said it yourself, haven’t you? Starting back when I nearly froze to death. What you really are.”

He’d said a lot of--Wait. Logan looked up, barely able to breathe from how tight his chest felt. “You...remember that time?”

Virgil shook his head. “Not all of it. But I do remember one thing, Lo.” He grinned, eyes glittering as the purple ribbon flashed a brilliant indigo, the bright warm light washing over Logan before he could blink.

“You’re a Guardian. My Guardian.” End.

#Demon Comfort #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Virgil #Logic #Anxiety #Demon!Logan #Near Death experience tw #Hazing tw #Manipulation tw #December Day 14

293 notes · View notes

in-my-feels-probably · 3 years

Text

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Fifteen

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of.

Chapter Fifteen

Once all the attention was on the Darkling and the Fold, the Crows quickly lifted a cargo hold, scrambling below deck. The volcra could be heard in the distance, and it sent a chill down Elham’s spine.

Jesper was cleaning his revolvers, groaning. “This is a bad idea.”

Kaz sounded calm, but Elham could feel the worry in his tone. “I think it’s rather practical.”

Jesper scoffed. “What? Why?”

“I don’t see how we step off this boat without you pulling those guns. So, cleaning them is a good idea.”

A screech was heard in the distance.

Jesper chuckled, motioning from his guns to the skiff around them. “Oh, I don’t mean this. I mean this! We are in the worst place in the world on a ship full of people who want us dead, surrounded by monsters who want us in their gullets. I should have brought Milo.”

Inej was glancing around towards the upper deck. “Who’s Milo?”

“The goat!”

Elham rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Jesper, those guns, the goat, my powers, all of it doesn’t matter, it’ll do fuck all if the Darkling intends on using his powers against us. We get it, you miss Milo, and we’re all scared without any comfort, but your constant need to list off the reasons we’re in danger is no comfort to any of us. Do you need a hug or something?”

It was quiet for a minute. Jesper pondered for a moment, before standing and moving towards her. “Yeah, I do, actually. It’s been a shit day.”

Elham let out an actual laugh at that, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. She could feel his hands shaking against her back, and she squeezed him tighter. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him out and holding him at arm's length away from her.

“It has been a shitty day. But listen to me, we’re gonna be fine, yeah? Have you seen how many times we’ve all been in a situation where we should have died? How many times have we saved each other's asses? We’ll make it...well, at least Kaz will. He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach, I suspect he’ll outlive us all.”

Kaz almost grinned, and Elham could feel the sarcasm laced in his voice. “Someone has to run the Barrel. Might as well be me. I’ll miss you all dearly, though. I’ll make sure to light a candle for you.”

Jesper seemed to relax, and Kaz nodded at him. “How many bullets do you have?”

Another screech was heard in the distance, this one closer than the last.

“Not enough.”

---

The Crows had been standing for a while, listening to the screeches in the distance, as well as the uneasy murmurs of guests on deck. All of a sudden, a giant rumble came from above, and a small light was cast over the slats in the ceiling. The Crows looked around uneasily, trying to gage what had occurred.

“So? What's our play?”

Kaz was still looking up. “We wait.”

“For what?”

He spoke like it was obvious. “For whatever the general has planned.”

“You figured him out?”

Elham scoffed. It would take a century to figure out the depths of the Darkling, and she suspected no one would still be around by then to pick his brain. No one except Alina, that is. She felt pity for the girl who would be the only person in their lifetime to live long enough to see the Darkling rise and fall.

Kaz just shook his head. “Not quite. Consider the scenario. The Sun Summoner fled from his palace, and now she’s tied to the deck. We’re sailing for a city where another general hired Arken to kill her. And I saw his face as he boarded. I know that look. He’s a man consumed with vengeance.”

Jesper scoffed. “See it enough in the mirror, do you?”

Kaz looked unamused, and Jesper continued. “So? What kind of revenge is he planning exactly?”

“We know it requires the Sun Summoner, which makes her valuable to us. She’s the one keeping everyone safe in here. If we have control of her, then we call the shots.”

Elham felt her stomach drop. “Kaz, what if he found a way to use Alina’s powers with his? Like how he would do with mine when I was at the Little Palace? That would mean--”

Kaz stiffened, slowly putting the pieces together. “...We need to threaten her life.”

Suddenly, Inej popped up from behind a barrel, holding a knife to a man’s neck and a gun to the head, exclaiming at the same time as Elham.

“What?”

The Crows quickly turned, moving to defend themselves. Kaz took a step forward, half shielding Elham from view. Still, Elham let flames pool in her palms while she stared, and she watched the man glance between the Crows and her hands.

Jesper leaned forward. “Who’s this?”

Inej responded. “A stowaway. Why pick this of all skiffs?”

The man spoke, raising his hands in surrender. “To kill the general and save Alina.”

Jesper cocked his gun, taking a step forward, his tone menacing, the most intimidating Elham had ever heard from him. Sometimes, she forgot just how ruthless the Crows could be.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?”

“Mal Oretsev.”

Kaz eyed him, and then moved to stand in front of him. Elham and Jesper followed. Elham had let the flames in her palms die down, and instead, she had unsheathed her sword, gripping it in her hand.

Mal was still glancing at her. “You have a Grisha on your side? You’re sure she isn’t sworn to the general? Can’t be too sure these days.”

Elham rolled her eyes, lifting the tip of her sword to land under his chin. Mal swallowed, tilting his head to get away from the tip of her blade. She pressed further.

“And just when I was starting to like you. Yes, I’m a Grisha, but I’m a hell of a lot better swordsman. No, I’m not sworn to the general, I would rather die than swear allegiance to him, and I would kill him myself if I had the chance. Now, what were you saying?”

Kaz swung his cane to tap her leg, and she grudgingly pulled her sword to her side and stepped back next to Jesper. He gave her a glance, silently telling her to stay in line and follow his lead. He turned back to Mal.

“You know Alina?”

“I do.”

“Who’s in control of her?”

“The general I’m going to kill.”

Kaz cocked his head to the side, analyzing, before deciding. “Inej, give him his gun.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because if he isn’t with Kirigan’s crew, he’s with ours.”

Jesper holstered his gun, and Inej handed Mal his gun. Elham sheathed her sword, and Mal turned to her. “Sorry. Wrong impression.”

Elham let out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Don’t worry, love, you didn’t hurt my feelings. Maybe turned my stomach up a bit at the thought of joining the Darkling, but you didn’t hurt my feelings. I would watch how you talk to people though. Words like that around powerful people just might get you killed.”

He grinned at her, holstering his gun. “That would involve living long enough to make it to those people, and so far, I think I’m doing alright.”

---

The Crows and Mal spent as long as they could below deck, biding their time, when the screaming started. The sound of a whole city being swallowed by darkness and claimed by volcra was echoing in Elham’s ears, the screams on board deafening. Elham brought a hand to her mouth, holding in a scream herself.

Jesper leaned against Elham’s side, pulling her closer to him. “What now?”

Kaz turned to them, and he was almost as scared as Elham had ever seen him. She hadn’t seen that look on his face since they were in his office with Pekka Rollins, or when he broke his leg the night she first touched him. Still, he was unwavering.

“We wait.”

Inej stepped forward. “Kaz, you can hear him slaughtering a city.”

“So you understand the scale of his power, then? Good.”

Mal shook his head. “The bold move is to strike now.”

“And the smart one is to get clear of the damned Fold first.”

Msl nodded, heading for the stairs that lead to the cargo hold door. “I never said I was smart.”

Jesper scoffed, eyes wide. “Can you believe him?”

Inej shrugged off her coat, pulling out her knives. “I’m going with him.”

Before Elham could grab her, she ran up the stairs. Elham turned with desperate eyes to Kaz and Jesper, who didn’t look any calmer. They waited a moment, before Jesper groaned, throwing off his jacket and moving towards the door.

Kaz panicked. “We wait!”

Jesper shook his head. “The action’s up there.”

“They have the advantage.”

“Only because I’m not in the game.”

Elham shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. She felt more vulnerable than she had in a long time, and she hated it.

“Jesper, please don’t go. I can’t lose one of you, you’re all I’ve got. You know it’s a suicide mission.”

His eyes softened, and he sent a small smile her way. “I’ve got to, love. I’ll be ok.”

He rushed up the stairs, leaving Elham and Kaz alone. Elham turned to him, and he knew the look on her face.

“No. Not you too. I don’t care how good you are with a sword, or about your fucking powers, no.”

“Kaz, I have to! They’re not gonna get hurt, or Saints forbid, die, when I could have been up there to stop it. I’m going up there.”

Elham took a step up the stairs, when Kaz took a hold of her hand, holding her back. The look in his eye was unfamiliar, animalistic, and she felt her heart race. His voice was a murmur now, a desperate plea.

“Don’t. Not you too. Otherwise I’ll have no choice but go up there, make sure you stay alive.”

Elham scoffed, but she was all too aware of his gloved hand still clutching hers, holding her back, gripping her like she would crumble and slip away at any moment.

“Why won’t you let me go? Am I that important, above Jesper or Inej? If we survive this, I’m just gonna get handed over to Heleen, so why not let me go, let me at least try and do some good before I go out?”

Kaz’s face contorted into anger. “You’re not dying, and you’re not going to Heleen! Yes, you’re that important, so I have to protect you!”

Elham’s mind was reeling now, but she knew she had to say it. She had to know.

“Haven’t I been the one saving your ass all these years? You have to protect me, now? Because what, you always protect your investments? Your Valkyrie?”

No. Well, yes, of course he would protect her because of that, but that’s not what she is to him. Not entirely. Not anymore. She was so much more than that to him.

She was ineffable.

She was ineffable, and he realized that. And while now wasn’t the most optimal time to say it, he knew he might never get the chance to say it again. He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand in his.

“No. I protect my girl, El.”

Her eyes widened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek. He let go of her hand, raising a gloved thumb to wipe it away. She gave him a nod, slowly reaching for his cane. He raised a brow, but let her take it. She tapped the base of it to his ankle, and he let the smallest of smilest appear on his face.

She handed it back to him, nodding towards the stairs. “I’m gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine. We’re in this together, Kaz. Come on, we have to help.”

He could feel his heart beating faster than it ever had, but he just nodded, and they raced up the stairs into the chaos.

---

A/N - we're getting close to the end. i haven't decided if i'm going to do an epilogue chapter or not, i was thinking of marking this book as complete when it's done, and adding the epilogue in before i write the second book and there's more show content, or maybe i'll make this one long book and when i start writing for it again i'll just add it to this one and mark it as ongoing. that's all undecided, and not an issue for now, but i'd love any ideas or feedback about that. i hope you like this chapter, let me know what you thought. there's about half an episode worth of content left, a few more chapters, and Ineffable will be complete. thank you so much for the support!

#wattpad #x reader #oc #grishaverse #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #inferni #in my feels probably #ineffable #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone

36 notes · View notes

highviewsmoved · 3 years

Text

✽ overhaul x oc (NSFW) ✽ with the promise of a cure, a young woman uses the contents of her grandfather's will to her own advantage.

CAUTION WARNINGS: stockholm syndrome, references to illness, mental instability, emotional manipulation, unresolved sexual tension, voluntary imprisonment, voyeurism, obsession, dubious morality, masturbation.

“A gentle hand upon a flower, causes it to bloom with love, you see. It takes a caress similar to that of a partner. It’s been a part of our family for generations, this ability.” He uses his hands to cup the sunken plant before him, slowly examining it as it blossoms upward to a renewed state.

The child blinks up at the older man, his eyes wrinkled with a faraway smile.

“But grandmother says I have a curse.”

The older man frowns, eyes downcast. “It may be, but to me, it is a gift.”

The child continues in a monotone that no one should possess at such an age. “All the flowers I touch, they come out of me, grandpa.”

The grandfather doesn’t know how else to respond, but goes and provides aid to the flowers dying from heat, the shade of brown passing over to a healthy green.

“It is a blessing, child,” he reaffirms. He is certain as the flowers that bloom from his hand that his granddaughter is special. “Always count them for yourself.”

Her grandmother lays bedridden. A restless thing that looks so close to the doors of death. Ume feels the tears spill from her eyes. It is a foreign thing to cry with meaning behind it, but it’s what she feels.

“Ume, my flower. Yuzuki left you something you must know. The Hassaikai, our business partner, can take you in. They can heal you.”

She sniffles, wiping her eyes. “Grandfather always told me it was a gift,” she coughs into her hand, an azealia appearing on her lap. Her grandmother coughs, but for a different reason.

“You’re ill, find them, show them this,” her hand is skeletal, like the gnarled twigs of a tree in winter. She nods, taking her hands. “I will, I’ll find them,” she promises.

Her grandmother heaves a shaky breath, passing quietly while the heart monitor keens a high sound, leaving her alone with the paper in hand.

Ume thinks of another time of when her grandparents were just with her moments before, still alive. Still there.

The hospital staff come bursting through, calling out to her and moving her away from the sight. She watches as they cover her grandmother’s face, they push her to the outside of the room.

Ume opens the letter, the will being precariously typed, the calligraphy neat and organized. Something her grandfather was always meticulous about.

It is written on this piece that she is property of the Boss from the Hassaikai. The newly appointed young lord of the organization.

When she returns home, doing a simple search through the calculated books her grandfather left behind. She sees the face of the older Shie Hassaikai and a photo of a young man she’s met and seen before.

A slow smile forms across her face.

Her finger tracing lines against the image of the younger man.

She finds them easily. Ume had to pull some strings. The company her family has owned had ties with the Hassaikai for many years. They developed pharmaceuticals together for people with quirks. They lobbied with one another.

It was all to keep themselves afloat.

And now she’s here. She feels an ebbing of excitement when she’s welcomed into their headquarters.

Ume sits across from the leader of the Shie Hassaikai. The young man was adorned with a plague mask. It’s a signature look for them. The massive paper is being read by the other henchman, a man by the name of Kurono.

“It reads here you are a part of the will that was granted by your grandfather, Yuzuki. The boss knew him for quite some time. And you’re fine with this?” Kurono is skeptical. He is clearly unsure of what sort of play is happening here.

She sits up a bit taller, attempting to seem much more presentable. She must play her part in this as best she can. “I am.”

The man, Chisaki Kai, one she has seen come across her family’s estate many times before. The one from the photo in her grandfather’s files. A young man who seemed quite lost when she saw him. Now looks much more hostile and methodical. He tilts his head curiously.

Mimic below makes a curious noise in the back of his throat. “You don’t think that’s a little off, miss?”

Ume smiles amiably, causing the men around him to shift uncomfortably. Her gaze was pinned on the leader. “I understand my duties entirely well, and I have been raised to meet them. Our families have had a partnership for decades. It’s to continue the union as we see it.”

Overhaul’s gloved hands she notices start rubbing against each other, she glances quickly at the motion but removes her gaze before he can notice. When she meets his eyes they’re locked on hers in a challenge. A heated fire in them, he surely must’ve seen.

“What do you gain from this, Miura? What's your endgame if you were to be kept by the Hassaikai? Is it a business alliance you wish to continue?”

Ume hearing his voice is all she wanted and she exhales shakily, heart giddily pounding. “I’m sick,” she says in a false, weepy tone. “I want to be cured and you have the capabilities to help me.”

Overhaul tenses considerably. Kurono passes a nervous glance towards his boss. Overhaul looks terse, Kurono can sense his hands twitching to rid this woman before him like an infection.

“What’re you ill with?”

Ume’s eyes glitter, the rumble coming from deep in her stomach, rising to unfurl out of her mouth. A flower upon the table. It was a shade of vibrant purple, shaped similar to that of a star with the center protruding yellow. Kurono makes a disgusted noise and Mimic reels back.

Overhaul feels his nostrils flaring at the flora before him. The belladonna, the nightshade resting against the wood of the coffee table. Ume in tears coughs into her mouth.

Disgusting, he thinks. A sickness waiting to flourish if he does not cut it out.

Ume is in a room of white. An area so pristine that she feels she will blacken it with her sight. She lays herself down on the bed as instructed and allows the men to enter with the needle. They say it’s supposed to be a prep, to see if this can really work to nullify the quirk enough to not be a bother for her any longer.

“We’ll remove the illness from you entirely, Miura,” the voice comes from the intercom belonging to Overhaul. She wants to laugh happily, she’s content with how simple it was to get herself here. They were so easily swayed. The tears leak from her eyes.

“Please," she begs. "I no longer wish to be this way.”

“Begin,” comes the buzz from the intercom and one of the men comes close towards her with the needle. The liquid is an odd shade and she forces herself to relax, the lower half of her body shaking.

When she can sense the press of the sharpened needle against her thigh she wants to pull away but she stares straight into the camera in the corner of the room, her eyes never leaving the tiny blinking dot. She knows he’s watching. He is alone and she is here with him.

“We’ll be recording you for updates on the serum we’ve injected. It’s still something roughly in the works, but there’s no reversal for it which you should already have known about—” The man before her continues to drone on about the nullifier and Ume frowns.

She feels disconnected, she’s been in this room for the last seventy-two hours and is beginning to feel restless, her mind drifting to someplace else. In her thoughts she sees Overhaul, with his face against her hand, her lips grazing his temples. She purses her lips and continues to nod as if she’s understanding. She hasn’t listened to a word.

The man coughs. “Well, we’ll leave you to yourself.”

Ume stands up quickly, reaching out. “Please, wait a moment,” her voice light and sweet.

The doctor of some sort seems rather nervous to be in her proximity, his body language on high alert. Ume notices this, thinking of how this room is on heightened surveillance.

She poses herself to be the perfect angel, a young woman in fear of the unknown. “I don’t want to be alone,” her gaze underneath the fluorescence like a sharpened jewel. The man’s entirely stumped, uncertain of what to do or say.

The blinking from the camera seems to analyze every inch of the interaction. She moves closer, her eyes watering with a pleading look. “I’m here alone and I don’t have anyone else, will you let them know that?”

The man swallows heavily, feeling the blood rush to his head, she has a mind-numbing effect on him. “Ah, yes,” he clears his throat rather loudly. “I’ll let the boss know, of course. Pardon me.”

He exits the room quickly, terrified Overhaul may have seen the odd display between them. Entirely unaware the young woman was smiling the moment he turned his back.

Overhaul sits up quickly, moving out of the observation room with a purpose. He feels overwhelmed by the sudden scene he witnessed. Ume was too vulnerable. No longer is the young woman with a horrific ailment, but now someone without it. It was gone and it could not harm her anymore.

She was as clean as that room she was in. She was a sight to behold and he watched her every waking moment bewitched by her. Seeing her with one of his men, alone and so close. It drove him to leave, it’s what’s making him go to her room to ensure the man did not linger or stay.

“Overhaul,” Kurono comes to his side, matching his quick strides. “What’s happening?” The boss doesn’t respond. Overhaul only waves him off dismissively.

Kurono stops, leaving through a different part of the headquarters, not wanting to bother him any longer. A part of him knowing full well where he’s going

Overhaul reaches her area of the base and stops outside the door. He could easily go in and see what’s happening. She’ll be there, in her room with her own personal belongings, and see her. He’s been watching her.

His first memory of Ume was back when she came to the old Hasaikai office, where the boss was in talks with Yuzuki. She was a dainty thing, with a twinkling gaze and an amicable aura about her. She seemed serene, something he was not during his early years. He remembers glancing at her, words not spoken between them, but her gaze held his. It never once left his, as if she could see right through him into the core of his head.

The memory dissipates immediately when he hears a gentle moan, he wavers. An odd feeling washes over him. Why is he here exactly? He is the one in charge and so he thrusts open the door, and he sees an image that will be seared into his memory.

Ume on her back, her hand in between her legs that are spread apart for him to see. He stands there, locked into place with the door closing with a puff of air and she looks up to see him, her hands hiding as she sits up, looking ashamed.

Her cheeks heated and a look of worry flashes across her. Overhaul hasn’t moved.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her eyes watering and he feels a rapid emotion overcome him.

“You—” he can’t seem to get the words out. It was like he completely lost his purpose for being there in the first place.

His mind was screaming in itself.

Ume lifts herself away from the bed, her skirt covering the legs he saw moments before. She drifts to him like a phantom.

“I’m still not well, my display must’ve concerned you,” she tells him. She is now only a few feet away. Overhaul attempts to rein in his muddled thoughts.

“Clearly,” he spits. He wants to flee, he wants to tear her apart and then rebuild her back again.

Ume was a striking beauty, the mole beneath her lips. Her eyes were a shade of pink, her hair the color of mulberries. She was such a captivating individual that he seems to understand why he feels such a magnetism towards her.

It must’ve been the number of times when she has held his gaze evenly. So at odds with what he expected her to be.

Ume snares him with a hook. “You’re just as twisted,” he feels an odd anger bubble up in him at her.

“What do you know? You’re here on account of your family selling you like a business offering.”

Ume’s eyes flash. “I am here on my own volition with what was provided.”

Overhaul doubts her, she can’t be serious.

She steps closer, her lips a beautiful shape. She reminds him of a spider creating a web. “You’re a sick man yourself. You come into the room of a woman who has no way to defend herself from someone like you.”

“You’re a witch,” he hisses. He feels an emptiness in his core with this talk. He can’t understand what this is.

Ume is unsettling, he realizes. She’s not what he thought she was. “I’m not a danger to you, Kai.” The way she says his name so tenderly, like a woman in love disturbs him more than anything.

She’s suffocating. She’s a boa constrictor wrapping herself around him ready to squeeze.

The effect she has on him is vexing. “I’ve always watched you,” she tells him like a shared secret between lovers. He shakes his head. “Just like you have been watching me.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, shutting the door. Overhaul feels his pulse rising with each step he takes. The way she looks at him, the way she has him in her hands.

Overhaul feels a genuine moment of horror.

What is she?

He returns with an ultimatum. She could finally be released, with the exception of constant surveillance on her. She could return to her old life of doing what she was before.

Overhaul does not want to push her away but his mind keeps thinking of seeing her in that specific position from that day. He wants to get rid of it. He needs her gone.

“I’m still unwell,” she tells him. She watches him warily, but something in her is telling him it's a ruse.

“You’re still sick?” He asks, his hand moving to hover across her face. Overhaul feigns his own concern for her. Ume’s eyes drift downwards. Her day-to-day was a cycle. An endless myriad of nothingness except her own thoughts to please herself with. She’s been in this room for days on end and after their last moment together, she was hoping she had finally gotten through to him. Finally, the object of her attention returned. She has him all to herself.

Ume shifts closer. Overhaul looking down at her, and he does not side step or moves away. “I’m here to get better, aren’t I?”

He tilts his head curiously to her advancing. “And you are? We’ve already given you the antidote. Don’t you want to leave here?” Ume smiles, eyes bright. She looks similar to a specific painting he’s seen in a galleria. The piece being a ghostly woman standing across the moors in a European isle.

“But you’re here. You keep me company.” He came here on a whim hoping this offer would be one that she would comply with.

Overhaul may have underestimated her, she's like a siren calling him softly from the sea, coaxing him to shore. Her words simply hold that much power.

His lips feel dry beneath his mask and he swallows. Her gown is loose, revealing her skin below and a part of him feels he could move to coast his hand across. To be able to hear her breathing hitch, close to his ears. To be able to see that display of her legs opening. He ceases the thoughts. She’s at his mercy. He has control.

“I know what you’re doing,” he murmurs, more to himself. His mind has become a frenzy. A demented voice in his brain begging him to lay his hand upon her. One touch won’t hurt, it won’t. It would be quick, a simple thing.

Ume drifts from side to side, her hand reaching above to move a piece of his hair. Her fingers dance across his forehead. He grits his teeth, his gloved hands twitching. His mind suddenly gearing up for a tirade. It’s filthy. It’s disgusting. It feels wonderful.

“Then leave here,” she whispers. “Don’t come back.”

“You’re a vixen. You’re sick,” Overhaul emphasizes. This time he means it, but he can’t help but let himself be entranced. She’s maddening. Enticing, his mind supplies.

Ume laughs, she’s infuriatingly beautiful. “And yet you come, again and again. For me.”

Overhaul retreats, her eyes twinkling with mirth. He leaves her there, walking quickly away, his steps echoing down the halls as he moves around the labyrinth. “Overhaul, where are you going?” Kurono asks in shock, he’s never seen his boss move in such a hurry.

“To my private quarters.”

He shuts the door to his room, locking it, hurriedly taking off his jacket stripping himself of the ailment. His thoughts cause images to be projected into his mind. Seeing himself close to Ume, pressing his lips close to her breasts, and his hands placed where hers was between her thighs.

He feels tight all over, collapsing onto the ground in a mess. His breathing is all over the place as he removes his mask from the heat of it all.

Ume was dangerous.

His hands moving on their own as if she was puppeteering them herself. He imagines her there with him. She could be, his mind adds. That filthy part of himself could go in there and take her. Keep her with him all the while. It’s what she would want. It’s what he wants.

Overhaul unzips his pants, his hands grabbing his cock, feeling the girth against his palm. He imagines her there, she’s so real against him. She is stunning as her mouth presses against his dick.

Fuck.

He begins moving, pumping to get to a fast release. The image of Ume licking his shaft, her fingers dancing across his body. Her touch is absolutely vile, but it causes his heart to pound.

He fondles himself more, beginning to feel his body clench around him. This is sickening, he thinks. It’s not right. Ume is still there, the image of her never left.

Overhaul could’ve taken her into his room. Having done everything his filthy mind was displaying out for him, his pleasure exceeded all logical thoughts.

The idea of her as his alone. “Come for me again and again.” He hears her voice so close to his ear, the way she said his name. Kai. Fuck.

He’s so close.

Her pussy would be pressing against his shaft, she would be so wet, so tight. Her moans would be sensual when she continues to take him how she wants. The way it would spasm against his dick. He grabs his balls roughly at the thought.

Overhaul comes with a grunt, a desperate sound freeing itself. He shivers at the sensation of his own cum warm against his body.

A harsh breath rakes through him and he stumbles his way into the bathroom. He starts the water, the steam rising above when he takes a step in. Overhaul hisses, the water scalding against his skin.

He thought with this he could exorcise the thoughts of her, but knowing that she could be doing this too. Ume’s own fingers deep inside of her, imagining himself was something he never experienced before.

A pleasure all their own.

Ume imagines what she would do if Kai would come and stay with her. If he would be willing to let her touch him, to touch her. His large, gloved hands caressing her thighs, reaching up to grab her breasts.

She begins trailing her own fingers down to her thighs, reaching the clit, the gentle motions budding into herself.

The thoughts of Overhaul down on his knees for her, what a simple touch could do. She moans, her fingers working with a quickened pace to reach her own orgasm. A fast one to rid herself of her desire. She needed to continue her control. She was the one above him. He couldn’t kill her even if he tried.

He kept her here offering whatever possible to release her, but her devotion to him and her own cause kept her to stay in this room so he could return.

Ume puts him through a hideous pattern and it pushes her to the edge. The tightening of her abdomen is ready for her to cum and she does. She arches her back, the sensation of her quivering pussy overwhelming.

The arousal of her knowing that he’s in his room, touching himself despite his abhorrence to it. She licks her juices off of her fingers, her breath heavy as she watches the familiar red dot of the camera.

Ume’s awakened by the opening of the door, and one of the many men announcing she’s allowed free reign to wander their base. That her status was cleared, that the nullifier accomplished its effect and healed her.

She was now free.

It was another offer she realizes, to really get her to leave this place. But she’s having so much fun here, in her own little space. She wishes to be a blight.

A stain that is so deep that it leaves Overhaul a crumbling, cumming mess every time he leaves her room.

He doesn’t touch her, there is no tenderness. Just her words and his own, and a continuous cycle of touching themselves at moments she hopes are timed at the same.

She smiles at the men, a coy thing that holds so much, but does not provide them with what exactly she’s thinking.

Ume’s not done here. She’ll see this through in its entirety.

“I won’t be going,” she sits against the wall, her hair so long that she toys with one of the strands. “I want to be here.”

They seem a bit nervous about her response. Not exactly sure what the procedure for a willing asset is.

“You can leave now,” Ume says. “I won’t be asked again.” They can hear the threat in her tone, her eyes narrowing as the men shuffle out in fear of incurring her terrifying attitude.

Overhaul returns with a quickened haste. Not even bothering to knock on her door and she grins.

“You’re a wretched thing, aren’t you,” he states. His finger pointed at her. She stares at the appendage; wishing to take it deep against her throat.

“I am, but aren’t you?” She’s challenging him. Miura Ume is a shogi piece on the board. The way she calculates his every mood, her eyes gauging him. She could eat him alive. It’s nauseating.

“I could kill you,” he’s trying to convince himself it’s the only rational thing to do. She sits up, the chemise sliding down her shoulder exposing her supple skin. He yearns, a sick part of him wants to see her exposed for him.

He wants to touch her just once.

No! His mind screams. She’s foul. She’s stunning.

Ume moves her hands to hold his, he begins to tremble. He wishes he could grapple with his failing control. To get back at her. She purses her mouth against the tip of his gloved finger, tongue brushing against the leather. When she bites down she never looks away from his sight.

He makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. Ume releases her hold on him and licks her lips. The pink of her tongue swipes the redness of her mouth. Overhaul is a mess of a man. What kind of the leader of this organization is he, that he is seduced by a single woman.

Ume lowers herself onto her knees, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She’s close to the crotch of his pants and he wants to run. So he can rid himself of these thoughts she’s causing.

“You won’t break your favorite toy,” her silky voice slithers in his ears. Her fingers feather across his thighs. Ume’s own hands wishing to dig into him.

The light sensation causes shockwaves across his flesh. Overhaul is enraptured. What else could she possibly attempt to do. He replays the image of her mouth around his finger. A dark rumbling in his gut jolts him away, and she smiles. It breaks him away from the reverie of this siren below him.

He stands above her, he could press all five fingers deep into her neck, ceasing her diabolical wishes. “You’re heinous,” he grits out. A realization blooming in his mind that he’s lost this power play. He was already in her clutches the moment he saw her.

She owns him. Every touch, every single way he jerks himself off, the orgasms he has. It’s all for her.

He’s mortified. He feels the room is like a cage. He’s the canary in the cat’s mouth.

Ume pouts. “I could make you feel so good,” she says this as if it’s the only thing he needs.

Overhaul wants to throttle her. He wants to hike up her gown and shove his cock so far deep into her that it makes her hold onto him.

This is dangerous, his mind says. You need to clean yourself.

“You’re a plague,” he spits. “You’re just a wretched thing who wants too much.”

She laughs as if he said the funniest thing in the world. “I am, but you enjoy this just as much as I do.” Ume sits up no longer on her knees. He still towers above her.

Overhaul could end it right now. He just has to touch her. Let her rot against the floor. He’s torn, he fears she’ll reanimate on her own. His own personal karma.

“You want me on my knees for you, telling you the dirtiest things imaginable.” Her eyes were that of a feline.

She backs him against one of the corners of the room. Overhaul slides down against the wall.

He wants this to end.

Ume lowers herself to his level, her lips grazing his ear. “You want me to fuck you senseless.”

Overhaul grunts. “I don’t—“ he can’t get the words out. He’s completely losing himself. He can touch her. He can. He can’t.

Ume’s tongue prods against his neck and he nearly groans. The way it slides up to his chin. He would let her take a bite out of him. It’s what he wants.

He feels his cock hardening against his trousers.

She leans a bit away, getting a good look at him in this state. That longing look in his eye. The lust in his crotch. He’s only wearing his medical mask and she wants to tear it off of him.

“You’re spineless,” she mocks. “You can’t even help yourself or your boss.”

He snarls. “What do you know,” he fires back. “You come here like a leech wanting a cure.”

“I know more than you do,” she tells him.

“Your teasing routine ends here,” he stands. The way she moves away from him pushes him to continue backing her against her own bed.

“Is this what you want? Do you want me to fuck you senseless? Or do you just want my finger in your cunt?” Overhaul feels a recharge in his power. He could finally see her resolve falter.

“I do,” Ume flushes, looking away from him. A gentle admittance. “I want all of it.”

The room is silent, save for the labored breaths from Overhaul and the quiet words from Ume echoing.

They look at each other for a long moment.

Overhaul makes the move first. He presses his lips harshly against her mouth.

She makes a noise but tries to remove the mask he’s kissing her through.

He rips it off and his hands lift her gown as she lays back against the bed.

Her legs wrapping themselves around his waist pulling him to her. Her touch causes him to groan. Overhaul feels his head swimming. She’s delicious. The way her lips form around his, her tongue gliding against his own.

He refuses to lay his hand on her, that part of him with his clear disdain for touch still scratching in his mind. It tells him to stop. To cease.

She’s a drug. Her moans are intoxicating. Her lips drag against his cheek and she suckles his neck.

“I want you,” she presses into him, reaching to unbuckle his pants. Ume grabs his cock through the fabric. No, she’s filthy.

“Fuck,” he exhales. She’s pliant against him.

“Touch me, Kai,” she moans, her legs tight around him. His hips are close to hers. His hands are still balled into tight fists.

“Just one finger,” she prods. “Make me cum.”

He snarls. Overhaul bites her shoulder and she yelps. “I’m not touching you.”

She laughs against his lips. “Your loss.”

They continue like this, lost in the sensation of each other's lips. His hips thrust into hers and she groans a needy sound.

She unbuckles his pants, freeing his cock. He feels dizzy. Ume guides him towards her wet entrance.

“Fuck me,” she moans. Overhaul gnashes his teeth together, his balled-up fists feeling like an anchor.

He’s imagined this so many times. This exact image, her voice right at his ear.

“Please, Kai,” her voice calls again.

Overhaul grunts, thrusting into her. Ume’s cries were delightful. “Oh, Kai.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and she hugs him tightly to herself, caging him in her arms.

She looks elated, something he hasn’t seen in her expressions. Her controlled, manipulative faces have only been used against him. At this moment she looks genuinely content.

His fists begin to uncurl. Just one touch to wipe the way her tendrils are covering a bit of her face.

A loud knock stops them from going any further, startling them both.

“Overhaul!” A panicked voice comes. “There’s a plan of attack from the heroes.”

Overhaul and Ume look at each other for a long moment. “Put your clothes on.”

He pulls out of her. The feeling of it winding them both up. He would let his men take care of it. He could finish here, before going out there to fight. No. He stumbles away from her. He doesn’t have time to clean himself and he shudders.

Ume is unnervingly complacent through it. Once he readjusts himself, setting his mask on.

She’s back to being fully clothed, her eyes blankly staring ahead.

“I’ll be back,” he says. His head dips, to get her to look at him. Her bright eyes stare into his. “I’ll finish this.”

Ume releases a laugh. “You won’t.”

Overhaul stands at his full height, eyes narrowing. “I will,” he promises.

He shuts the door leaving her alone.

Ume's trademark grin returning.

She walks back to her bed, curling into herself as she waits.

It’s been hours and there’s a breach in her room.

A team of heroes enters and there's a multitude of voices.

“Someone’s in here!”

“It’s a woman! We need a medic!”

They come in a cluster, checking her, and Ume’s tears come falling forth. Her character this time is a hysterical woman who was wrongly experimented on.

“We’ll get you out of here, miss. What’s your name?”

She is inconsolable as she gives them a name, a fallacious one. “Yumi, my name is Yumi. Please, I want to go home.”

The heroes escort her out with a blanket over her shoulders. She looks around the base and it is destroyed. The walls are crumbling. Nothing looks the way it did when she first arrived.

Ume tries to hide her grin. A beautiful downfall that Kai went through, she thinks.

So pretty.

The trip to Tartarus was a vicious one. The seawater lapped against the tides of the boat. The young charge, in connection with the Hero Commission, shields himself from the onslaught of the rain.

“Fujita! We’re almost to the island.”

Agent Fujita, one of Ume’s many disguises only clad in a suit and raincoat, nods affirmatively. “Good.”

The man calls for the steering of the boat to the dock, the entire vessel moving onwards and the agent does not budge. She stays with the breeze against her face, whipping her face as the boat’s sound alerts the officers on Tartarus of an arrival.

The ship is stopped against the steel dock as they rein in the anchor, wrapping the sails against each other as the young escort jogs to her.

“We’ve arrived. Please go this way to the base.”

Ume follows down the ramps. The clanking of the steel-toed boots beneath her into a rhythm.

“Private Personnel coming through please.”

“Identification is needed for passing into Tartarus.”

“I have it,” Ume says, her fingers handing over the passes and a note from the Hero Commission granting the access.

“Agents Gentaro and Fujita?” The man in the dark outfit is splashed by the nearby tide. “Dammit, alright. That’s fine. If they know you’re here. We’ll send them word you’ve arrived.”

Gentaro steps forward. “We won’t be here long, it’s a quick interview with one of the prisoners.”

“It’ll be a fast one,” Ume adds.

One of the other guards snickers. “As long as you both don’t try to break these monsters out.”

Ume smiles a familiar grin that halts the guard's laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The massive gates open forward walking into the long corridors of Tartarus.

“This place is bright,” Gentaro hisses. Ume doesn’t react, only blinking in response.

“The criminal you’re about to meet is infamous, you know? He’s pretty vile, kept a woman and a child, using them for test subjects.”

Ume’s new voice has a low tone. “I’ve seen quite a bit in my heyday, Gentaro.”

He snorts. “Alright, alright. Gotcha, well, I’ll tell the guards you’re ready to see him.”

The room they entered was accessed only through a fingerprint scanner, which Gentaro uses. Ume walks in, standing across a reinforced glass, waiting for them to bring him in.

Ume feels her heart rate pick up. It’s been months on end since the disbandment of the Hassakai, since their separation.

Ume was taken in with the heroes, saved by them. Or so they think. But Ume returns as Agent Fujita now.

She hid her identity, easily enough with a modifying bullet she received from the underground which gave her a new quirk.

It was the ability to change the face, so one does not recognize her immediately as the woman who was captured. Ume had many ties, connections her grandfather left behind; she was able to put them to good use. She used them all to give her this gift before her.

To be able to see him again.

Chisaki Kai enters, completely wrapped in a straight jacket, pushed forth on some sort of mechanism that was strapping him in.

“Agent Fujita, Prisoner 23554 is here. Chisaki Kai, Overhaul, reporting in.” The bleeping over the intercom disperses and she is granted some privacy when the guards leave. They had nothing to worry about since Overhaul could not wield his quirk nor did they know that Ume didn’t even have one.

She smiles.

He looks pathetic, still facing downward, refusing to look up. His hair is overgrown. He has tired eyes, stubble coming in and she wishes to grab his face and rub her lips against the roughness of his chin.

“Kai,” she calls softly. Her voice is the sound of honey dripping from the corners; like it was seeping through the glass. He shifts, raising his head slowly. When he comes to, his eyes widen in shock. “You,” he swallows roughly. His throat feels dry.

She coos, walking closer to the glass, her hands resting on the counter. “Kai, my destroyed, beloved,” she grins all white teeth and red lips. Overhaul quakes, feeling overcome with the oddest emotion. Is he excited? Is he terrified? It’s a rush of cold pouring through his veins. He feels the familiar ache of the loss of his arms, wishing to thrash in his restraints, but the poisonous woman is here and she still speaks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ume says in that deceptive tone of hers. It sounds as if she were in awe, but her eyes. Her gaze is so dark that he imagines himself devoured by her.

The reversal of the situation. The way he had her for months on end, trapped in his own area. He should’ve had the upper hand to take back his own control of her relying on him and the odd web of seduction they found themselves in.

Before he was free, he could’ve left her to her own devices. He should’ve killed her when he had the chance, but she stands before him on the other side of the glass. This time, she is where he once was. Now she could continue to see him, the vicious cycle continuing. He wants to yell, scream out to the guards. The rush of blood goes to two places, his head and to his dick.

“You’re here,” he says. She laughs lightly, nodding. Ume was a wretched woman for this. A parasite burrowing her way into his flesh, never coming out. He wants to heave. Her constant advances were intoxicating, they cursed his life. He loathes his own weakness for not denying her. He couldn’t have. He was so close. He aches for her.

She tsks, her fingernail scraping against the glass. The sound high pitched and torturous to his ears. He gasps, not knowing how to make her stop.

Ume presses her lips too close against the mirror, the shape of her lipstick leaves a mark there. He clenches his teeth tightly together so he doesn’t groan.

She leans back, admiring her handiwork. Him on the other side, just how she always wanted to see him. Overhaul, the methodical, locked away in a small room just as she was. He was her likeness.

Ume’s voice points out the obvious, but he can’t bear to think of it, he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Kai,” she says, observing him as if she’s viewing a virus through the lens of a microscope. His head hits against the steel of the odd-standing chair that he’s restrained in. “You look ill.”

The contamination has already made its home in him. In her. He can’t escape it. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s wheeled away back to his cell. Once the resounding click of the door encloses him in. He can feel her still there with him, the moaning in his ear returning and the tears are hot against his face.

Your loss, her voice returning from that time. Replaying itself over and over.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha imagines

27 notes · View notes

fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

Text

Golden Eyes - Paul Lahote x Reader

A/N: I thought of this last night when I had trouble sleeping. Can’t wait for you all to hate me, but I thoroughly enjoy it and encourage you to read until the end. It’s kinda a sad one folks, but I give to you a soft Paul

Paul and I sat in the meadow as we had grown accustomed to. He had found it on patrol a few months ago, so now we come here as often as possible, now that the threats of impending vampiric doom was dwelling since Bella and Edward got married a few days ago. It was time for everyone to breathe for what felt like the first time in forever.

I inhaled the fresh scent of teakwood cologne on Paul’s chest. My head rested on his bicep as we laid down. Simply enjoying the company of one another, laughing at each other’s stupid jokes, and giggling whenever he whispers yet another sweet nothing into my ear.

The light shone on us almost magically, it almost felt surreal. I felt the warmth from the sun’s rays shining on my skin, pairing with Paul to make the almost chilly day bearable.

The deep rumbling of his chest sent waves of happiness throughout my body, his laugh was the air I needed to breathe. Paul really made me feel things I never knew were possible.

Suddenly, the air grew quiet. The sounds of nature came to a halt. We no longer heard the sounds of birds nor the rustling of the wind. Paul’s chest tightened and he inhaled deeply. His large body turned over onto mine, crushing me into the ground.

“Paul?” I asked, voice trembling.

“Shhh.”

He looks around, trying to find the source of whatever killed our blissful moment. Though that only lasted a few seconds before I heard his voice once again.

“What’re you doing here, Irina?” Paul asks, letting himself get off of my chest.

I turn and see the woman I recognized from Bella’s wedding. She stared daggers at us all night.

I looked into her golden eyes, and I saw nothing but pure disdain. She was not happy to see us.

“I came to apologize to Carlisle for my behavior at the wedding.” She smirks, looking over at me.

“Well, you’re about fifteen miles away from their house.” Paul says, growing more uneasy by the minute.

He stood in front of me, I began to stand myself but my legs were trembling with fear.

She wouldn’t be stopping to see us for any good reason. She might’ve actually came to apologize to Carlisle, but smelling us out here might’ve presented too good of an opportunity for her.

“You killed him.” She scoffs, her golden eyes burning holes into Paul.

I knew Paul wasn’t trying to escalate the situation, as he was trying to avoid more conflict and was hoping she would just leave. But it was after then he knew that he had to phase.

“He tried to kill Bella.” Paul reminds her.

I latched onto his bicep in fear.

“He wanted to be like us!” She yells, beginning to walk closer.

“Move back.” Paul whispers, shoving me backwards.

His body bursts into one of a large grey wolf, snarling. He backs up closer to me, protectively standing in front of my trembling frame.

“Cute.” Irina scoffs.

Before I could even blink, she was running at us. Thankfully Paul was able to actually see her as he met her in the middle. He threw her into a nearby tree, snapping it in half. Paul runs over to where she landed, hoping to just destroy her.

“Where the hell are the rest of them?” I mumble under my breath, panic fully setting in. I tore my eyes from Paul and Irina and look into the tree line, hoping to see the rest of the pack.

Irina was a seasoned vampire, she knew what she was doing. I had all my faith in Paul, but I worried for his safety greatly.

A loud wine caused my blood to run cold. It was Paul. Irina had crushed his ribs.

“Paul!” I scream, almost running over, but I couldn’t bring myself to run-- it was like my legs were made of concrete.

It was then that my eyes almost bulged from my skull. I watched as she grabbed him from the neck, killing him instantly. I watched as his lifeless body slumped to the ground, his eyes rolling.

“I’ll protect you until my dying breath.” The memory of Paul’s voice rang through my head, echoing around the walls of my skull. He meant those words more than anyone else would ever have.

I immediately fell to my knees, screaming but nothing came out. I tried to run over, but I couldn’t get up from my collapsed state. I was stuck to look into the love of my life’s dead eyes.

Until she stalked over to me, far too slowly. She grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground with an enormous smile on her face.

I watched as the rest of the pack charged out of the treeline, though it wasn’t before she bit me.

I fell to the ground as Irina was grabbed by Sam and Jacob-- being destroyed.

I was flailing on the ground, convulsing as the venom surged through my body. It felt like there was no longer blood traveling through my veins-- it felt like fire, like corrosive acid. I was looking around, screaming-- trying to get up and run to Paul. But I couldn’t, my eyes simply just faded to black-- ignoring the signals my brain was attempting to send to them. Suddenly, I was void of all sight and sound.

Suddenly, I hear my screaming again and I’m sweating profusely. Anxiety coursing through my veins.

“(Y/N), wake up. Please.” Paul begs, gently shaking me awake.

My eyes shoot open and see a worried Paul leaning over me, clutching onto me for dear life. I immediately grab him, pulling him into me.

“(Y/N), you had a nightmare. You’re okay, I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He whispers, raking his fingers through my hair as he held me close.

He picks me up, placing me in his lap, shushing me as I sobbed into his chest.

“I got you, baby. I’m here. It was just a nightmare. It’s okay.” His raspy voice soothes.

“P-Paul.” I choke on my sobs.

“Shhhh, talk about it when you calm down.” His warm hand rubbing circles on my back, my head on his chest.

Hearing his heart beat was the best thing I had ever heard. I was so grateful to hear it, to feel his chest warm. To see him alive.

We sat there for a few minutes, waiting until my uncontrollable sobs turned into slight sniffles.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He whispers into my ear.

I nod, pulling away to look at him. I felt that it was better to tell him, afraid this dream was an omen of sorts. Maybe to consult with Alice.

“I’m just so happy to see you.” I press my forehead onto his.

His warm hands stayed on my waist, his eyes never tearing away from mine, patiently waiting for me to tell him about my nightmare.

_______________________________

Word Count: 1166

A/N: yeah sorry I love you guys tho, don’t kill me lmaooooo I just wanted a little bit of a angsty thing, I wanted a shocker. I wanted to scare some of ya. Please lemme know if you enjoyed or not. Including a very soft Paul.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #quil ateara #embry call #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #twilight #twilight x reader #JUST READ TO THE FUCKIN END OK

299 notes · View notes

queenmuzz · 3 years

Text

Happy Mother's Day

I'm terribly sorry, this is supposed to be a happy day between mothers and their children, but you know how I am... Note: Set Between DMC4 and DMC5

Nero’s legs wobbled with numbness as he cautiously got off the bike, making sure that the motorcycle wouldn’t tip. He really didn’t want to bring it back to Lady with a ding in it. But when she had offered it to him to borrow, he couldn’t resist taking it for a spin. The vehicle was a beaut, lovingly taken care of, and...very, VERY fast. How that waif of a woman was able to hold on for dear life, he had no idea.

After he had steadied himself, he looked at his destination and frowned, looked down at the paper in his hand, and looked back up. The address was a match, but this place, right smack in the middle of downtown Redgrave, looked like a dump. A decrepit skeleton of what had once been a magnificent manor that looked abandoned for decades. Even though it looked like a prime location for a demon hang out, Lady had insisted that Dante wasn’t on a job. Nero had gotten the feeling she really wanted him to find the elder demon hunter.

Confused, and more than a little curious, he passed through the broken down wrought iron gate towards the house.

The overgrowth was tall and suffocating, but Nero noticed, just before what had been the entrance, a new path going to the left had been created, freshly trampled grass going around the corner. Nero didn’t see any other sign of disturbance, so this is probably where Dante had gone. So, he trudged along, wondering why of all places the man would have come here.

He pulled around the corner, and instantly came to a stop. Unlike the rest of the property, this area here had been recently maintained, the grass recently shorn (Nero had a sneaking suspicion it was Rebellion’s doing) A large oak tree, with bright green newborn leaves, cast a lovely dappled shadow upon the ground. And beneath the aged trunk was Dante, his back to Nero, facing a pair of granite stones. It took a few moments for Nero to realize...not stones… gravestones.

“Lady,” Dante didn’t turn around, “I told you that I didn’t need you here. I’m fine…” Nero caught the scent of flowers, specifically roses fluttering in the breeze. The young man awkwardly coughed, startling the man in red.

“Sheesh!” Dante rapidly turned around, revealing that the scent came from a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Well, nearly all red. In the middle of the bundle, was a single blue rose. “Didn’t expect to see you here kid! Heard Lady’s bike rumbling down the street, so I thought she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” “Yeah,” Nero said, scratching the bridge of his nose. Had Lady used him as a tool to get to Dante? “You weren’t in the office when I came by, but Lady let me use her bike, and gave me directions to...this place.” He didn’t know the significance of this area, but it was probably very important to Dante.

“Did she eh...?” he murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly resigned for some reason.

“Yeah, Kyrie told me I needed to get out of Fortuna, to take a break from rebuilding Fortuna. And the only place on the Mainland that I knew about, was your place.” That was partially the truth. Nero had also wanted to ask if Dante would be interested in a business idea that Nero had come up with: A mobile franchise using the Devil May Cry name, centered in Fortuna, but he had the feeling that this was not the time nor place to bring up business matters.

Dante chuckled, and looked down at the roses he was holding. “I guess Lady didn’t tell you why I was here.”

“Nah, and I didn’t ask.”

“Welp,” Dante rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. “Might as well get this over with. You know what day today is?”

Nero was perplexed. It was just another Sunday in May. He shrugged.

“Ah, maybe they don’t do it in Fortuna. Here, today is Mother’s Day. Where kids and adults spend time with, and thank the women that raised them, and well… I’m visiting my mom.”

Nero felt the pieces of the puzzle falling in the place. Fortuna’s version of Mother’s Day was during the autumn, and Nero hadn’t really cared much about it, considering his background. But to Dante, the day was more significant.

Suddenly, he felt the yank on his sleeve, and before he knew it, Dante had dragged him towards one of the gravestones, the one that was older, and slightly more worn. It was simple, no words on it, but there was flowering climbing roses carved along the edges. The one stone beside it was similar, but newer, and there were no roses, just intertwined climbing thorny stems.

“Hey Mom, I’d like to introduce you to that kid I was telling you about. This,” he pushed the boy further in front of the stone proudly, “is Nero.” He stood there, partly awkward and partly proud at the thought Dante had talked to his mom about him. Dante hadn’t mentioned his mom much, but Trish had helpfully filled in the blanks when Nero had asked why Dante had a pic of her on his desk.

“Oh, that’s not me...that’s Eva, Dante’s mother. It’s complicated, but I was created by Mundus to look like her, to lure him into a trap many years ago. She was very important to him, and while I don’t quite understand it, I know that she loved him dearly she loved the bot-”

She’d been interrupted by Dante coming in the office, and Nero hadn’t pried further.

Nero tried to come up with some words “Uh...hi.. It’s nice to meet you.” God he sounded like an idiot.

Thankfully, Dante swooped back in. “She was a wonderful woman. You’d think she was soft and demure, but the moment you pissed her off, she was as hard as steel. I can still feel her pulling on my ear when she caught me sneaking into the cookie jar before supper.” He chuckled and winced as he rubbed his earlobe, “A fantastic cook, a wonderful violinist and… an irreplaceable mom.” Dante’s voice trailed off, and for a moment all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the grass. Strange, despite never meeting her, with no connection to this family, Nero had a feeling he...belonged here.

“She would have adored you…” Dante murmured softly, startling Nero. He turned to find the older man with a wistful, almost melancholy look on his face.

“Huh?”

Instantly, that softness, that rare glimpse of something seldom seen, was locked up behind a steel grin. Dante laughed. “It’s nothin, just me talking without thinking. So, what about you? You’re on the Mainland now, best time to talk about your mom.” Dante must have seen his sudden scowl, and placed his hands up in surrender, realizing this was a sore spot. “Doesn’t have to be your blood mom. Can be any woman that helped you grow up!”

“Well,” Nero mused, “There was Cecilia, Kyrie’s mom,” he explained, “she was a heck of a woman. When Kyrie brought me home after I’d gotten into a scrap with the other kids at school, when they took my lunch, after she made sure I was okay, she gave me a ham and cheese sandwich on two pieces of fresh bread. She was a baker by trade, you see. And every day after that, when school was day, Kyrie would bring me to her, and Cecilia wouldn’t let leave until I couldn’t eat another bite. She was always looking out for me afterwards. Making sure I got my school work done, mended my clothes, and then when the Orphanage didn’t have clothes my size, she got Credo to get me measured up so she could get me several sets of clothes. But most of all…” he continued, trying to figure out why his eyes were getting all watery. Must be from the newly cut grass. “Unlike the rest of the island, she never judged me, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. I…” he took a deep breath, “I would have been proud to be called her son-in-law. But she never got the chance to see Kyrie and me grow up, to become a couple… Maybe if I had been there when the demon attack...” he trailed off, feeling a bit lost and alone. He couldn’t feel the same pain as Kyrie or Credo had, but there was pain nonetheless. He was surprised by a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the older man giving a smile of sympathy.

“I kinda feel where you’re coming from. My mom, she died in an attack too…she died protecting me from demons.” That smile vanished as Dante looked down at the gravestone...not this mother’s, the one beside it. “Our positions should have been switched” he murmured softly, grief on his face, “things would have been so much different, so much better...” Nero was perplexed. Was Dante wishing he had died so his mom had lived?

“Well, if she’s even half the mom you claim her to be, she’d probably be happy that you’re alive, strong enough to protect yourself, and others….” Nero tried to say what he was feeling, and it seemed to be what came from his heart. It seemed to do the trick, because Dante had perked up, and that mask of a grin was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re a good kid, Nero.” Dante said, and rubbed Nero’s head, laughing at the halfhearted scowl that earned. Dante looked up at the sky, the noon sun shining happily down. “Welp, I’m famished.... How bout we get our asses- I mean butts, sorry mom, back to the office and order some pizza. I’m pretty sure Lady owes me a couple boxes of them, for what she’s done…” Dante glared at her bike, barely visible from their location. Nero didn’t quite understand, but he’d never turn down free food.

“You go ahead, bring that bike back to her, tell her I’ll be there a bit later, just have to do a…” Dante looked down at the pair of graves. “A few more things to spruce up the place.”

Nero nodded. Obviously, Dante deserved some privacy, this was his mother’s resting place, so he turned to leave, his stomach already growling at the thought of pizza. He slightly worried he was turning out like the old man. Next thing he knew, he’d be having questionable tastes in fashion, and have a penchant for shooting old men in the head without explaining beforehand that the guy was trying to take over the world. Strange, he thought as he got on the bike, and looked back at the manor. It didn’t look as decrepit and creepy as before. Instead of a carcass of a house, it was a dignified memorial of happy times long since gone. A place that seemed to welcome him to return as often as he’d like. As he drove off, he remembered that he’d forgotten, in all the emotional unloading, to ask about the other gravestone….

------

When the sound of Lady’s engine had finally faded away, Dante let out a breath that he’d been holding in for longer than he thought. Damn Lady, trying to get him to break down and tell the kid the truth. Well, there had been a few close calls, a few words slipped out, but that façade had been maintained, with the kid none the wiser.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, and then at the grave before him. “He’s a great kid, like I said.” He sighed, “I know you’re probably disappointed at me for not being truthful, you were always a big stickler for ‘Honesty’ but…” he pulled out the single blue rose out of the bouquet, and spun it between his fingers. “Bad stuff happens to us Spardas. You, me…” he placed that blue rose before the newer gravestone, “Vergil.... I just don’t want that to happen to him. The less he knows...the better. He deserves the stability that we never got...” He placed the roses down, and knelt down, eye level to the grave.

“I hope, wherever you are, that you’re at peace, and that he’s with you, so you can tell him what I never could, that he was loved just as much as you loved me….” His forehead touched the cool stone, and a few drops of water splashed onto the crimson blooms.

“Happy Mother’s Day”

#Devil May Cry #Dante #Nero #Angst #my writing

57 notes · View notes