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orqheuss · 1 year

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How could I fear any hurricane?

(Ominis Gaunt/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink How could you think, darlin', I'd scare so easily? *** The ancient magic that burned under your skin was beginning to become a problem, and when one fateful day in Defense Against the Dark Arts changes things for the worse, will Ominis be there to help you pick up the pieces?

Based on the new Hozier song, "Francesca"

Word Count: 4.8k Ao3 link here

It was supposed to be a normal day in Defense Against the Dark Arts— dueling day, your favorite until the events of the previous year. Everything you once loved about the sport, and sometimes about magic in its entirety, was now fraught with tragedy.

Your heart threatened to beat out of your rib cage and run for cover when you stepped up to the stage, wand shaking in your white knuckled grip and a primal fear quivering in your eyes. Ominis, the boy gracefully standing across from you on the platform, had sensed your trepidation the moment you entered the classroom. Many wouldn’t notice, except for the select few that had the privilege of being his close friend, but he was deeply worried about you. You’d gone through more than even some of the strongest Aurors ever did in your short magical lifetime— it was only natural that facing down the deadly end of a wand made you uneasy. You chose to ignore the telltale downturn of the blonds eyebrows and the minuscule, barely noticeable frown that crossed his visage as he prepared himself for battle, the tip of his wand changing from a comforting read to a blinding blue as he readied his spells. You'd perfected the art of hiding your emotions early on, and with that came the knowledge of noticing even the smallest of shifts from anyone you encountered in conversation. It was easier to ignore the worry of others rather than focus on it; if you thought about it for too long you'd start to spiral deeper into your mind, and hiding how you felt would become increasingly harder.

Yes, the idea of being on the tail end of a wand made you nervous, but that was not where you held your fear. Not many knew about the powerful magic that burned through your veins, the unknown levels of new, enticing darkness that invaded your soul deep down in the repository long ago— not anyone alive, that is. Only your dearly departed Professor Fig knew about the lengths you went to to protect Hogwarts’ most dangerous secret. You remembered how it felt to have all that stolen pain, all that strange, ancient knowledge slither its way into you from the ominous, ethereal darkness above. Most of all, you remembered how all that power made you feel— how tempting it was to unlock the cage inside your soul and let all the darkness pour out of you like a demented waterfall. That was what you were afraid of: yourself. You hadn't dueled since that fateful day, and the pulsing feel of the absconded ancient magic swirling in your chest sent a spike of fear from your head to your toes. The idea of simply sitting out of this duel came to mind quickly, and you began to come up with multiple ways to slip out into the hall and down to the Undercroft where no one would bother you.

Alas, it was Professor Hecat that made the decision for you, pairing you with the exceedingly kind blond that held your affections. Ominis Gaunt was a capable duelist, this wasn’t really that much of a secret, but you hadn’t had the chance to tell him about everything that happened to you under the school all those months ago. The thought of hurting him, hurting the one you held so much affection for, sent dread to coil around your throat and choke you. You'd grown close to the Slytherin boy over the course of the previous year, often spending time alone together in the Undercroft when Sebastian would have one of his stubborn tantrums. Hurting him, maiming him in any way would kill you inside, you were sure of it. You tried to school your breathing, letting your breaths naturally ebb and flow from your lungs as you waited for the starting bell. You could get through this— the magic was yours, all you needed to do was control it.

Your throat began to close up, images dancing through your mind of crackling red curses and spirals of death-bringing green lightning bolts clouding your vision like one too many shots of fire whiskey. You recalled what had happened to those who tried to hurt you before, how their bones snapped one by one as you threw them to the ground with deranged bursts of untold power. Even after months of time away from the castle, the visions of those you killed still screamed at you day and night. There were times when a simple sound, a familiar movement of a wand, or even a particular string of words would send you reeling back in time to your darkest moments. You silently prayed to anyone listening that you would remain in your own body, and your own timeline, during this duel. Ominis smiled at you reassuringly, promising you with his eyes that everything was going to be okay.

That beautiful fool— holding so much faith in your wretched disaster. He didn't know of the hurricane that threatened to rip itself out of you every waking moment of the day and leave nothing in its wake but death and destruction— fire, brimstone, and ruin.

You should've listened to Sebastian and skipped class today like he did. Everything would be so much simpler if you weren't so stubborn.

The bell chimed, and the battle began.

Ominis waited patiently for you to make the first move, eyes narrowed as he listened to the world around him. Ever so strategic, or simply more kind than what was good for him, he was letting you set the pace for the duel, a decision that was for naught in the end. You could feel the lightning begin to scorch under your skin, casting a soft glow through your periwinkle veins that only you could see. More panic trickled through your joints, nearly sending your knees buckling as you raised your wand and pointed it at the boy. You threw a simple basic cast, praying that the battle would be over soon and you could quell your pounding heartbeat. Ominis replied in turn, sending a blast your way with a strong, resolute voice.

“Expelliarmus!”

You quickly shielded yourself with protego, the stupefy that came next being second nature to you at this point. With each cast your mind fuzzed more and more as you let your body go through the motions. You threw a particularly hard spell Ominis’ way, watching as he quickly side stepped— his body turned to the side, only his profile visible as the spell flew inches from his face, screaming through the air and smacking into the pillar just beyond.

The loud explosion shook your soul loose, dissolving the cloud behind your eyes like a sudden downpour and dyeing your vision black. It was like your ghost had left your body, floating high above the crowd of students standing around you. The sight of your form through your own eyes like an omnipotent third party was unnerving— it was every time you dissociated from this plain of existence. One moment you were in the DADA classroom, and the next you were back at one of the many poacher camps you raided in the Forbidden Forest. You remembered this day; you had gone looking for trouble after an argument with Sebastian regarding his sister and his journey deeper into dark magic. Stumbling upon the camp had been a complete accident— little did the souls huddled under tents and drinking with their friends around the fire know, this would be their last day on earth.

You could hear the shouts of the dark wizards around you screeching in your ears, their spells shooting past you on your left and right, each one nearly slamming into you and sending you flying. Your eyes narrowed against the volume of the blood rushing to your head, and you gripped your wand tighter against the sweat that clammed your palms. Your body shook with rage and nerves as you launched barrels towards the ones closest to you, your personal brand of lightning shooting from the tip of your wand and burning one of them where they stood. You easily pulled a few of the loyalists closer, levitating them in the air and freezing them like stuck snowflakes, letting your magic throw them to the ground and shatter— crystal glass against a linoleum floor. Their screams of anger turned to sobs of fear as you took them out one by one until there was only a single poacher remaining, his fury seeping into the ground below and through the space around you like a thick fog. The look on his face was as vivid in your mind as it was the day you stood against him. You could see the curl of his lip as he tugged his mouth into a snarl, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth bared like an animal cornered. You couldn't help but think he reminded you of Ominis, safely tucked away in the castle just over the treetops. His blond hair shone like scattered streaks of Aurora Borealis across the Scottish highlands of Lochinver. His build was similar, as well; he couldn't have been older than you, maybe closer to seventeen or eighteen. The main difference was his eyes— a honeysuckle hazel rather than the stormy oceans of your quiet crush. You could work with that, if you just looked into his eyes you wouldn't see your friend as you killed him. The smell of blood was thick in the air as you circled each other, wands drawn and narrowed in at heart level, haunches raised and hair standing at attention. The crackle of magic was heavy around you— a weight on your arms and chest, pushing you down and denying you from flight. Not that you'd run, though; if you ran the survivor would tell the others— the brave ancient warrior fleeing from the scene of the crime and running back to the safety of the tall castle walls. You couldn't do that, your pride wouldn't let you. Your own anger festered under your skin, freezing in your veins and creating little icicles of blood and flesh. Your eyes shot to the arch of his arm, his wand swinging through the air and a curse dangling from his lips. Your pupils glowed a startling crimson as you cast your own. You were faster, stronger, more powerful— the young naive boy didn't stand a chance.

“Diffindo!”

The world around you bled like painted blue moonlight and you were back in the classroom again. Mere seconds had passed, but for you it felt like a millennia. Your eyes focused on the blond across from you, crouching on the ground and his arms over his head for protection. Behind him on the wall was a long scar in the stone, ash falling from its chasm and smoke billowing from the wound. The situation at hand slammed into your brain like a bullet, and pure unfiltered terror flooded your entire body— fear of the reactions of those around you, fear of yourself. The students that stood around the table looked on in horror, some standing farther away than you last saw them with their hands raised over their wand holsters in defense. They stared at you like you were a charging beast— in all honesty, maybe you were.

Leander was the first to speak, his voice carrying through the silenced room. “What was that, you freak!? You could have killed him!”

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, but your eyes couldn't move away from the boy across from you.

Ominis stood shakily, his arms still cradled around his face and head in case of any aftershocks in your violent natural disaster. Only when his wand told him you were still did he untuck himself. The look on his face stole all the air from your lungs.

He was paler than usual, his skin as ivory as bone against the cream walls of the castle. Tremors shook him where he stood, body vibrating like a barren tree stuck in the harsh winter chill. What really shocked you were his eyes. His eyes were wide in the socket, the bluebell irises vibrating and the white lightning streaming from the center nearly luminescent like an animal at night.

The realization struck you across the face: he was scared of you.

The boy that had gone through years of living with his family, endured countless cruciatus curses at the hands of his own mother and father, was scared of you.

Your hands shook as you opened them from their white knuckled clench against your wand, letting the length of wood fall from your fingertips and clatter to the ground. You stared at them, watching the blue lightning spark from your nails.

The voices in your head hissed at you, a mix of your own and the sound of the ones you loved most.

First was yourself, an echo that sounded more like a growl than a human being: Locus Naturae — Freak, monstrosity.

Then was Sebastian, the same hurt inflection that resided in his words the day of the catacombs: You almost killed him; you almost killed your best friend— my family.

Then Professor Fig in the most disappointed tone you'd ever heard from him: Why couldn't you just be normal? Why did you have to be like this?

Finally, Ominis himself, anger bleeding into each and every one of his words: You're just as dangerous as everyone else says. They should hunt you for sport like the beast that you are.

Your hands came up to your head, covering your ears as you winced against the sudden influx of sound. The voices screamed louder than the silence of the classroom, and your eyes slammed shut so you couldn't see the disdainful glares of your peers anymore. They all hated you— all feared you. It was a witch hunt for the ages, and you were their scapegoat.

One voice cried louder than the others, the lit sounding vaguely like an old Hogwarts professor you’d grown to know through multiple pensives and diary entries. Isadora’s voice shook with intensity as it rocketed through your skull.

Run. You need to run.

You turned tail and ran from the room, the door slamming shut behind you with a mighty clang, drowning out the desperate call of your name at your back. The stone floors echoed your footfalls as you let your body carry you wherever it wanted to go, wherever it needed you to go to be away from your wretched memories. Leander was right, you were a freak— a monster. No matter how hard you tried to fit in, how much you longed to be like the people around you, you were perpetually different— irrevocably, inordinately odd. A wolf was still a wolf, Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk and school colors. You had to go far away, where no one would find you, where you couldn't hurt anyone else.

You didn't make it further than the Undercroft before your body began to fail you, legs trembling as you unlocked the clock and scrambled down the spiral staircase. Once you had crawled to the farthest corner of the room the floodgates inside of you opened and every terrible feeling you had came exploding out of you. Sobs fell from your lips like a constantly dripping faucet as you drew your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your body and cowering as small as you possibly could. You were disgusted with yourself— with this awful magic that festered inside of you that you never asked for. Everything would have been so much simpler if the Hogwarts book and quill never found you, if Professor Fig never appeared at your doorstep and ushered you into this magical world of light and dark— good and evil. There was no grey inside of you, the blackened sludge that swam in the very core of your being made that explicitly clear. You could never be happy, never be safe while that was curled under your ribs, and if you couldn't be safe with yourself, no one would ever be safe in your presence.

You knew that you needed to leave— needed to run as far as possible from everyone you’d grown attached to and hide this creature inside of you. It was the right thing to do. You could feel your heart splintering more and more with each passing moment and terrible, self sabotaging thought, but you couldn’t stop them from coming. Your mind wanted you dead, and there was nothing you could do about it. The resolute organ pounded under your flesh, and your brain screamed at you with happy images of your friends in a vein attempt to stop your downward spiral.

You thought of Sebastian’s warm smile the first day you beat him at a duel— his laugh when you both successfully snuck into the restricted section of the library ringing like wind chimes on a spring day. One moment you were laughing with him, then the next you were watching it morph into the heartbroken, melancholic anguish that turned his lips into a frown after he had killed his uncle, something you could have stopped.

The soft smile of Ominis when you first introduced yourself in the common room was next, the lilt of mischievousness in his voice from messing with the first years stealing your heart from day one. The image shifted to his sobs in the Scriptorium, crystal tears spilling from his eyes and bile hot on his breath after finding the dead body of his dear aunt Noctua— his pain was your doing, of course. You manipulated him into going down there. It was your fault.

There was so much pain you could have stopped, so much you could have prevented if you never came here in the first place. Now, you were attached to them, and your heart bled at the idea of abandoning them.

Everything you’d ever let go of had claw marks on it, and you refused to mar their skin any further than you already did. If you let go first, there would be no scars to heal.

The creak of the Undercroft gate sounded through the room, vibrating the stone floor under you as you curled tighter into yourself. The soft glow of Ominis’ wand first came into sight, and you desperately held your breath in hope that he wouldn’t find you, closing your eyes like a child hiding from the monster under their bed. He scanned the space quickly, pinpointing you quite easily in your corner of solitude. Even if he didn’t have his wand, your soft sniffles were all he needed to hear to know where you were. His own heart shattered at the sound of your pain, and he quickly made his way over to where you were crouched. You rose shakily to your feet, one arm wrapped around your torso in protection and the other held in front of you to keep the blond at a distance.

His eyebrows furrowed deeply at his brow in worry as he spoke. “There you are! Are you okay—”

“Stay away from me!”

Your pleas stopped Ominis in his tracks, the hand that he raised to grasp your shoulder in comfort lowering slightly. He flinched at your outburst, his expression shifting into one of hurt.

You spoke again, your voice slightly stronger but still holding a minute shake. “Don’t come any closer, please.”

You could hear him shift his weight in front of you, heeding your wishes for now. “What’s going on? Why did you run away?”

Your eyes snapped open, an incredulous look scrunching all the muscles in your face. “What do you mean ‘why did I run’!? I nearly sliced you in half, Ominis!”

He scoffed, his face relaxing with relief. “Is that all? My dear, I’ve gone through much worse than that. Now please, let's go back to class—”

“NO!”

He jumped at your outburst, realizing quickly the severity of the situation. You never yelled at him— Sebastian, maybe, but never him.

“I almost hurt you, Ominis. How are you so okay with that? I would never forgive myself if I caused you harm. Leander is right, I’m a monster.”

Ominis stepped closer, letting his fingers brush against the palm of your hand still held aloft to keep him at bay. You flinched, cowering away further into the wall.

He shook his head, taking a step backwards and raising his hands in a placating manner. “You’re not a monster, it was an honest mistake. No harm done, see?” He patted down his front, swishing his cloak to show you if there were any hidden injuries that you hadn’t seen previously. You wrapped both arms around your middle, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“But what if it wasn’t a mistake? What if I wanted to actually hurt someone?” You inhaled a stuttering breath. “I’ve killed before, Ominis! What if one day I just snap and you can’t dodge in time? What if I kill you, or Sebastian, or Poppy, or Natty!?”

He didn’t even need a moment to think before he replied, too desperate to get you away from the metaphorical ledge you’ve decided to hang over. “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, but that doesn’t make you a bad person! You wouldn’t purposely hurt us, and that’s all that matters. Where is all of this coming from?”

You shook your head harshly, your hair smacking against your cheeks. “This magic inside of me, this ancient power that I can’t control is too much. It’s just festering there, waiting to be let out so it can wreak havoc across the entire world like a damned hurricane. I’m scared of myself, Ominis, and you should be scared of me too.” Your breathing heaved from your chest, eyes wild and expression forlorn. “You should go— you need to go.”

He sighed heavily, annoyed at how incredibly stubborn you could be at times. “No, you can’t get rid of me like that— that’s not your choice to make. There’s a reason I get along with Sebastian so well; if I find something that’s worth it, I can be just as muleheaded as the best of them, maybe even more so if I truly mean it.”

He reached for you again, his fingers nearly wrapping around your shoulder as you side stepped, spinning from his reach and growling like a feral beast. Animals in the beginning stages of rabies try to get as far away from people as possible; you were just trying to save him from your infectious bite before it was too late. “Why are you so insistent on staying here with me? You should be running for the hills!”

Anger blazed in his chest— not at you, but at the people who made you feel this way. He was furious at Leander for calling you a freak, at the professors for pushing you to the point of no return, and hell, maybe a little at himself for not noticing your descent sooner. Ominis had been your best friend for nearly a year, and had harbored feelings for you for what felt like since he was born, and either you were too good at hiding how you felt or he was too dense to notice anything outside of his own little bubble. The blond had to change this, fix this somehow, and he had to do it now.

His words were strong when he spoke, determined that you understood what he had been saying since he met you last year. “Because I love you!” His shout echoed against the tall ceilings of the room. “I love you so much it hurts to breathe when you aren't near.”

The blond took a steadying breath, pouring all of his emotion into this very moment. “I didn’t think I needed to say it— I thought I was being obvious! Even Sebastian could tell how I felt, and he’s as dumb as a dugbog about women. Obviously, that wasn’t the case.”

It was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs in one grand swoop. “Ominis—”

The blond continued, cutting you off. “You are the pain under my ribs— the ache in my heart. If I loved you any more than I already do I fear I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

He stepped closer, approaching slowly like you would run at any second, and gently took your hand into his. You let him hold you, his warm skin brushing against your cold palms and thawing your chilled heart.

“I know you feel like everything wrong in the world is your fault— I feel the same quite often, but it’s not. I don’t understand, did you think I would give up on you? That you could shake this love from me?” He tilted your chin up with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. Even though he couldn’t truly see you, it was like he was looking into your very soul. “Darling, did you really think that I would scare so easily?”

He brushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your face with his hand. “My life has always been a storm. How could I possibly fear such a lovely hurricane?”

The tears that were gathering in your lower lashes finally fell, dripping down your face just to be wiped away by the thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. “It’s not that— I don’t think—” You stuttered, the words getting trapped just under your jaw. “I’ll only hurt you more. You don’t deserve the rain, you deserve sunshine. I can’t give you that.”

He shook his head, quietly shushing you as he brought the hand holding yours up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the shivering skin. “If there was anyone in this world that I would be okay with causing me harm, it would be you. Even if you hurt me, I will always come back to you, because I know that you didn’t mean it— you love too much to truly cause pain.”

Ominis closed the final inches between the both of you, pulling you to his chest in a half hug and pressing his temple against yours. He laughed at the small sniffles that escaped you, feeling your resolve disintegrate by the second. “Now, must I continue to wax poetic, or have my words finally struck home inside that thick skull of yours?”

You chuckled, a pathetic thing that was more snot than sound, but nodded nonetheless. The wiry boy smiled in true relief, nuzzling his teeth against your cheek and pressing delicate kisses to your eyelids and nose. “There you are. There’s my dove.”

You tugged him the rest of the way against your chest, tucking your face in his neck and holding onto his robes like he would disappear if you let go. He let you cry against him, soaking his collar with your grief as he decorated your head with a crown of fluttered kisses. Once your breathing slowed and your words returned, you whispered against his skin— a prayer at the pews of adoration.

“I love you, too.”

He held you impossibly tighter, syncing his heartbeat and breathing with yours until you were one. Ominis moved his mouth to your ear, his hot breath fanning through your hair like a gentle summer breeze. He smelled like home. “We will get through this together. I won’t let you fall, my darling— I will always be there to hold you steady.”

After what felt like centuries of waiting, he softly touched his petal-toned lips to yours, silencing all voices in your head for good. It was like heaven itself was kissing you. After a moment he pulled back, his lips just slightly ghosting over yours with his murmured affections.

“Je t'aimerai jusqu'à mon dernier souffle.” The way his mouth wrapped around the foreign words sent a shiver down your spine. “Même si tu es la cause de ma mort.”

Sebastian found you both there later in the evening, curled around each other on the settee like a human knot and sleeping the rest of the day away. His gaze softened at the tiny, serene smile that just barely stretched the corners of your mouth. He would bother you both about what happened later, but for now he turned around and left the chasm under the school, content that his best friends finally found a little piece of happiness in all this chaos.

What he didn’t know, though, was that you didn’t find happiness; happiness found you.

French translation: "I will love you until my last breath. Even if you are the cause of my death."

Try and tell me French Ominis wouldn't be hot as shit I DARE YOU

***

like what you read? here's more!

#tina speaks #hogwarts legacy #hl #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt #hurt/comfort #masterlist

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falling-heights · 1 year

Note

Hey 👋 I’m new at your blog 😊, can you please write about possessive Yandere Frieza with human pregnant reader that run away 🏃‍♀️💨( make dark as possible 🙏) as actual story-telling format. ( please and thank you 🥰)

Word Count: 1.03k

Warnings: blood, violence, death, abuse, choking, kidnapping, themes of prey/predator complex, obsessive behavior

You writhed on the floor, tangling yourself in a cocoon of chains that wound tighter every second you continued to squirm. They bound your arms, your legs, around your neck... into your stomache. You couldn't move, you couldnt breathe, every moment that passed grew more and more severe.

But the struggle never ended. You continued to contort and twist despite the pain. Despite the futility of your efforts.

But why?

Why couldnt you just quit?

Why make it worse?

It was simple.

Because none of the pain or discomfort you felt now could compare to how that devil would make you feel if you didn't.

Things, soldiers you couldn't recognise hovered around you. They tied and held you down like some kind of wild animal. An animal drowning in its blood and the blood of others. A creature so coated in red, one could hardly identify it as human anymore.

Perhaps it was fitting, then. To be held down by chains like some orphaned pet. Fit to writhe around like some poor sodden worm. Perhaps that's what had become of you.

A new demon was forming inside you. Something unwanted, something as evil as its sire. It had yet to breathe, hardly even developed, but you knew it was cursed to be just as cruel as its father.

"Well, well..." You froze, breathed hitched in a rigid gasp. A small chuckle responded, amused by your frightened response. Face pressed into a red puddle, you couldnt see him, but felt his presence. The soldiers felt it too. Commanding and dreadful. His presence boded death wherever it went. "It seems a little mouse got caught in a trap."

No steps followed his words, but you felt something trail along your spine, slithering between each ridge. It slid down to your chin, lifting your face up. the chains made the angle uncomfortable, forcing a stifled groan to crawl out of your throat.

Seething, blood foamed between your teeth, running down the corners of your mouth. It ran down to his tail, and he visibly grimaced in disgust at blood dirtying him. His calm demeanor quickly soured, and his eyes reflected extreme distate. His tail coiled around your neck tightly, and swiftly dragged you up level to him. Frieza hovered inches above the floor, not daring to muddy himself over the mess.

Air quickly escaped you as his grip tightened on your throat. He smiled cruelly, humming in satisfaction at you. Leaning forward, a hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face from one side to the other, inspecting each feature carefully.

"Did you enjoy this game, little mouse?" The hand withdrew eventually, and his hands folded neatly behind his back. "Tell me, was it entertaining for you? Have you had enough fun yet?"

His eyes trailed to the bodies that lay mauled around him. So much blood, all for you, for this 'game', as he put it. As though you couldn't be more humiliated. This was just a little bout to him, perhaps a tantrum from a child needing a proper reprimand. His eyes led to your gut, and his eyes twitched.

"Explain this." For a moment, your heart dropped. He was even speaking to you at this point, but the sudden change in tone was eerie. The voice was stark, barren. His smile was gone. For fear of a reaction, you remained silent, only voicing a few disgruntled wheezes from the tight appendage wrapped around your neck. What he was referring to, you were unaware.

"L-lord Frieza, she fell when we-"

"Fell?" They quickly stopped what they were saying, visibly stiff in their stance. "She fell? Is that what you mean to say happened?"

Ah. There must have been a cut, a gash, something along your skin. The two men had been less than gentle, and it must have left a mark. It was more of a blur, the initial struggle to break free, but you remembered their boots digging rather harshly into your frame before chains took their place. Perhaps they hadnt considered your fragility.

"It seems I've made a mistake, my dear." His tail lowered your frame back onto the floor gently. Finally, proper air could reach your lungs. You were left coughing face down on the floor. A red flash reflected in the blood along the floor. A body fell next to you as you continued to struggle for oxygen, splashing more blood onto your coated body. The other man's cries were futile, and cut short. Another flash, followed by another body collapsing, lifeless, filled with fear just moments before. "It would appear I was a fool for thinking these men could handle something this simple. Do forgive me, mouse."

He then noticed your slumped over body, and your heavy breathing. A small smile crept back to his face. "Oh my, you've overdone it this time. That won't do."

"My lord..." A meek voice called his attention at the doorway. Annoyed by the disturbance, Frieza simply stared at the soldier, awaiting the rest of his words. "What should we do with her?"

He thought for a moment, staring at your body, laying in a thick layer of blood and bodily fluid, contemplating what he ought to do with you. This little endeavor of yours was more of a hassle than he would have prefered. Playing cat and mouse can be fun at times, but disobedience, he had little tolerance for. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have ever thought to bother with. They would not have survived the attempt.

But he couldn't seem to help himself. Something about your terror amused him in a strange sort of endearing way. You were his favorite pet, his prized trophy. He couldn't let something so shiny just slip away, now could he?

Especially now that he knows of your predicament. No, no. That wouldn't do at all. A child, an heir to inherit the universe, and a queen for him to claim. What good could ever come of letting you go?

"Clean her. And bring her to my quarters once she is sufficiently... sanitary." He drifted to the doorway, glancing once more at his dearly beloved pet. Such a meek little mouse. Poor thing, caught in a trap. Such a tragic little soul. His eyes flashed down unto the soldier with icy furor. "And do be careful. I would hate to make this trip any more messy."

#yandere #dbz #dragon ball z #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere frieza #frieza #yandere dbz headcanons #yandere dbz #dbz headcanons #dbz x reader #yandere dbs #yandere dragon ball z #yandere dragon ball super #yandere dragon ball

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gt-daboss · 2 months

Text

TW: Blood, referring to someone as an It

UPDATED TO INCLUDE MUCH MORE STORY Word Count: ~1300 words (used to be 700)

Crying. The constant, never-ending weak sobs of the creature echoed through the forest as the giant naga fled. Thick and dark, red blood dripped down Harden’s enchanted sword before reaching the tip and spilling off creating a trail of red in his wake. His heart pounded and his muscles ached trying to keep up with the fleeing monster,

“Leave me alone! I-I didn’t- AH!” The scream echoed somewhere past the treeline followed by a crash. The hunter could has used this to pinpoint its location, but the mess of destroyed vegetation, splattered blood, and the smell of burned skin would allow even an amateur to easily find it, hardly the cunning and masterful predator that Naga’s were told to be.

“N-no… no. Stop! Stop chasing me.” The naga pleaded, its booming voice, high-pitched and scared despite its giant size noticeably louder, the hunter was surely gaining on it, and the naga knew it, its desperation evident in the trail it left. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear, I-I didn’t! I didn’t, why are you doing this to me?!

The predator eventually devolved into incoherent sobs as the hunter approached, even if it was a novice hunter, a Naga’s senses were second to none. It knows I’m coming. Suddenly the first glimpse of the creature slipped into Harden’s vision. Faint lime green in its color, the massive tail slithered almost inaudibly through the bushes. Even with just a glimpse he could clearly see purple and red streaks littering the appendage, slowing the naga further

Gathering his magic, he channeled it throughout his body and into his greatsword, throwing it forward with a slash. The magic whizzed through the air before disappearing behind the thick foliage and-

“AAAHHH!” A loud, pained scream tore its way through the trees in its horrific spectacle, desperation oozing out of it like fresh blood from the wound it now wore. “Please stop! Please! I didn’t- I didn’t do anything wrong it hurts, it hurts!”

Hesitation

Harden hadn’t felt it for some time now. But even as the wet blood began to cake onto his sword, and the ringing faded from his ears, he continued the chase. It wouldn’t be long now, with injuries like that it couldn’t keep this up.

“No… no I didn’t… I didn’t it hurts, It hurts so bad! Why- Why are you doing this to me!?” Its thundering, echoing wails pierced the forest, so close now, it would only be a moment before-

There

Bursting through the foliage, he finally saw the beast he had been hunting all this time. Hidden partially behind bushes and trunks, the unmistakable lime-green scales showed themself, easily over 200 feet long, Harden followed the tail as it got thicker, eventually tracing it up to the head. Focusing his energy back towards the tip of his blade

“STOP IT!” it pleaded, Harden went still. The creature's eyes were leaking, overflowing with tears despite being closed shut. Heavy breathing and shaking limbs were evident all throughout the naga’s body, even its tail was trembling, only increasing the blood flowing out of its wounds.

“Please, I didn’t-I didn’t do anything wrong, why are you being so mean to me? It hurts. It hurts so bad why, why?” Harden was about to speak up when the naga suddenly burst into uncontrollable sobs, curling in on itself just like how his own daughter did whenever she got hurt. As the wails and sobs continued, Harden found himself lowering his blade, the naga, only but a young girl barely older than his own child, was inconsolable.

With every sob and choke the naga’s body shook violently, no doubt hurting the child even further, but if one was about to die anyway…

five minutes. Five long minutes he waited while the Naga cried herself away. But eventually, her eyes dried up and her body grew too tired to cry any longer. And when she opened her eyes for the first time since they stopped, she was still met with the human who had been chasing her, attacking her, hurting her, still standing there with his sword drawn.

Noticing her slitted snake eyes had focused on him at last, he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Why?” The naga croaked, the implication obvious. Harden let out a sigh, debating for a long time how he should word this.

“You…you weren’t what I was expecting” he answered, truthfully. The girl's eyes lit up, for the first time the human had actually responded to her.

"Oh... it-..." She started, and then looked dejectedly downward, clearly not liking his answer. "I didn't... I didn't hurt anyone... It hurts really bad... I-I...I'm so cold..."

Blood loss, he thought. Even for warm blooded creatures such as himself, losing as much blood as she had would send them into a state of-

"Please mister... No more... I just want to..." she mumbled, unable to finish even speaking her own desires. suddenly her stomach growled alerting them both and sending a pained expression throughout her face.

"N-No! I didn't! I didn't eat anyone! Don't hurt me, please! I didn't, I Didn't!"

Harden hesitated for a moment, it wasn't like him to listen to the pleas of the monsters he hunted, it surprised even him that she had convinced him to listen so far. "So then what were you doing at a human settlement?"

The Naga gulped nervously, eyes darting back and forth before eventually looking just off to the side of where Harden stood. "O-Observing..."

"Observing," Harden narrowed his eyes but kept his sword lowered. "You were just, observing them" The naga looked ready to panic all over again, eyes widening but body too tired to run away.

"Y-yes, I, I swear it! I promise, I haven't ever, ever eaten anyone! I just... I just like to look... That's all I was doing, please don't hit me again."

"I wont- I wasn't going to..." He began, before realizing that if this had been any other naga he wouldn't have even hesitated. "WHY were you just looking, It couldn't have been for no reason?"

"Please- I-I uhm... I didn't e-eat anyone but uhm... The cows on mister Jensons' farm s-sometimes wander near the forests edge a-and... I-I..." She looked like she was about to tear up. So that's what this whole thing was about, a stolen cow. Eying the cowering girl in front of him, eyes sunken in, clothes torn, and even though he knew little about Naga biology, he could tell she was underfed.

"I-"

"I was hungry! so hungry please! I didn't- I didn't mean to! I was just hungry! please don't hurt me! I-I... I don't want to die..." Her desperate pleads turned into whispers as her fatigue caught up to her. Harden didn't see a people eating monster anymore. Looking up at her shaking form, all he could see was his own daughter, roughly the same age as the naga before him. It wasn't right, he knew this, to treat a monster like a person, but...

"Okay," he said plainly, and let his weapon fall from his hands. "it's okay... I-I'm not going to hurt you... if what you're saying is true, then I'll let you go." The naga looked like she was about to burst into tears once again before he said that. Luckily, that face was replaced with one of utter surprise.

"You-you mean it? You really-"

"But!" he interrupted "Tomorrow, meet me in this same spot, I can't have you stealing the townsfolks livestock 'cause your a lousy hunter."

"Y-yes of course, I, Th-thank you very much sir..." She looked ready to continue gushing before a moment of realization hit her face. "You-your going to teach me? how to hunt?"

"Yes, is that a problem

"I-I don't think thats a good idea..." she trailed off dejectedly. "my, my momma tried but- but 'cause of my bright tail she- momma... momma said that... that-"

"Then tomorrow we'll prove her wrong, you'll prove her wrong." he said, suddenly more and more of the puzzle that was this naga was being discovered. A naga who doesn't hunt humans... whos scared of them. He knew more than he did originally, but there was still to much unknown... Knowing if he kept pushing such a delicate topic so soon, he could hurt more than heal, so... he resigned himself to discussing it later with her.

"I promise."

#giant/tiny #g/t #gt community #gt art #giant tiny #g/t writing #size difference #gt #gt fluff #sfw gt #naga #giant naga #gentle gaint #gentle giantess #fantasy gt #giant

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infraaa · 2 years

Note

HI ITS ME AGAIN- soo, me and my mutuals have been talking about this.

(and I may or may not have an obsession with affogato)

May i have a hc for affogato if he was a naga?(smuty preferred, if not thats fine) and if ya can’t do naga affo thats fine.

『yk why does affo fit as a naga? so ironic right?』

naga!Affogato smut headcanons »» reader assumed gn!

context: a naga is a human snake hybrid, originating from eastern culture, most notably Hinduism. These proud and somewhat haughty creatures typically have an exotic and alluring aura to them, similarly to sirens. They are not evil however, in fact, they show benevolence and curiosity towards humans unless provoked. But, due to their semi divine presence, some may find them threatening. (In other words, affo when he took the throne basically-)

tw// nsfw themes, constriction, hypnosis, choking, dumbification, exhibitionism, dubcon

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

oh wow so how did you find affo like this huh?

well it’s very simple. let’s say you were out on an adventure or something and you found a lake. but you found something the peaked your interest swimming around in that lake and you were like 😯

well what better way to find out than to go see 🤪

he slithered out of the lake and you were astounded by what you saw…

dark scales of purple white and black, shiny and glistening from the water and the sun’s rays. and even though his hair is soaking wet he still looks gorgeous.

he has a voice as smooth as espresso (see what I did there?) and as rich as ice cream are his eyes, a creamy off white with those feline pupils… so alluring, so divine… his gaze made you quiver in your boots.

he saw this and grew hungry. It had been a while since he had a mate…

he slithers up to you and wraps you up in his tail, like coils wrapping around an unsuspecting rodent.

his eyes spin like spirals, shades of purple and white cloud your vision like ribbons, clouding your mind and your senses, like melting chocolate he tears at your intuition, softly lulling you in with gentle snake like whispers and flicks of a reptilian split tongue across your cheeks.

after he declares your inhibitions melted and gone, he lays you down and feasts his eyes on your soaked clothes. he can see through your shirt, the wind around the lake betraying your body.

he takes a moment to stare at you before bending over and slithering (get it?) off your bottoms, your undergarments, so that your ass touches the soft grass underneath.

he would be the one to toy with your body as you lay there in agony.

does he want to put the tip of his tail in? no no no, what about his fingers? his tongue? ugh, so many options!

he’ll touch your body and act like no one’s there, but when the other tourists come by and see the mess you’re in, he expects you to look at them and softly commands you to do so.

he has no shame, absolutely none. he may actually want people to watch the two of you part take in this sinful rapture.

he will make you obey. he commands, you obey. he gives you orders, you carry them out. dutifully. with feeling. he wants them dumb, wrapped around his fingers as he fucks you.

and during it all, he will wrap you up in a breeding ball, constricting you and choking you for however long he chooses in whatever form he pleases, and you will take it.

choke on his fingers as you cum— he loves that. he loves it when he stops moving his tail inside of you and you grind on it and wine and beg that he keeps moving, that he’s making you feel good. he wants more of your voice and he will be sure to remember it for the next time you make your stop at his lake.

and he will make sure they you come back for more, he won’t let you forget him… under any circumstance.

#infrawrites #infradelivers #infra@212!#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk x reader #crk headcanons #crk affogato cookie #crk affogato #affogato x reader #affogato cookie #tw smut #smut headcanons #x reader smut #naga x reader #naga

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Text

Magic and Knights AU

The Sphinx's Riddle

Summary: You are a sphinx, a member of a desert dwelling people who guard the temple to the Goddess. At least, that's what you're supposed to do. There have been no heroes to visit the Goddess in centuries, and you, a Sphinx who is just a little too good at seeing through illusions, learn the sickening truth about the Patron who your people have served for generations...and now you're his prisoner, deep within the temple.

Pairing: Pre-Fixer x F!Reader

Word Count: 7447

Warnings: The Patron is described as a half rotting corpse. Reader is an anxious mess

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Wow, this took forever for me to finish, but I also wrote, like, 30 some odd pages since 5 pm yesterday, so I guess I just needed inspiration, lol.

You sniffle and curl your arms around your legs. It’s cold, so very cold. You must be deep beneath the temple for it to be so cold. You tug the thin blanket your mother gave you tighter over your shoulders, and it does almost nothing to ward off the cold.

You don’t understand how this happened.

A chain rattles down the hall, and you wince and bury your face into your arms. You hear the chains rattle down the hall and feel, more than see, someone peering into your cell.

“Are you ready to beg for forgiveness, child?” A voice, soft and silky and smooth, slithers through the room and you clamp your hands over your ears on the top of your head, and you can feel your tail twitching with anxiety under your blanket. You don’t want to hear this. Don’t want to hear him. But his voice cuts like a hot knife through butter, “Not yet ready to beg for my mercy, child?”

The cell door creaks open, and you tremble when you feel a hand, cold and almost skeletal, run through your cropped hair.

“Have I not treated you and the rest of your people well?” Your hands tighten over your ears, pressing them flat against the top of your head, “Have you not thrived while under my watchful eye? Have I not gifted you all with great beauty and great intelligence? And I all ask in return is your undying fealty…and you deny me that one small thing?”

The hand fists in your hair and jerks your head up and back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, to avoid looking into the flaming eyes of the man your people have served for thousands of years.

Though there’s no hiding from the stench of rotting flesh.

“Look at me, child.”

You, stubbornly, refuse to open your eyes. And a heavy sigh escapes from your captor, the scent of rotting meat washes over you. The scent is strong enough that you gag.

And he finally releases you, and steps away, heavy chains dragging along the stone floor.

“You disappoint me, child.” And he sounds so, very, disappointed. Your heart lurches in your chest, but you very pointedly don’t look at him, or speak to him.

You know, in the same way that you know the sun will rise every morning, that if you give him the chance, he will slither his way into your psyche, like the viper he is, and you will no longer see him for the monster he is.

You hear a deep inhale, and the chains move closer again. You take a chance to open your eyes, and you see his feet, swollen and purple and putrid-

You slam your eyes shut. Just in time as his hand fists in your hair and you’re jerked, roughly, to your feet. “If you will not obey,” He says, “Then you will be punished.”

And then you feel something strange against your cheek. Warm and slightly rough and slimy-

A choked off scream or revulsion slips from you when you realize that it’s his tongue sliding across your face.

Panic wars with sheer terror, and your mind both goes blank and starts racing a million miles per hour.

And then you reach inward, towards that warm golden glow that belongs to you and no one else. You grab the glow with both hands and hold it close, drawing comfort from the natural magic of your people.

You let the glow grow and fill you, from the bottoms of your broken feet to the tips of your roughly cropped hair, and you lash out with one strong burst of magic.

The room fills with the golden glow of the midday sun, and you hear a vicious scream of pain, before you’re flung against the hard wall, and you slide to the ground.

You hear the cell door open, and then slam shut, and then you release a shuddering sob as soon as you’re alone. You quickly clamp your hand over your mouth, refusing to give that thing any more power over you than he already had.

You are going to die here.

There’s no one to save you.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been in this dungeon.

There are no windows, and He comes down to visit you at such random times, that there’s no way to keep track.

You know it’s been more than a week. Perhaps more than two at this point. You’re still getting fed, though it’s 50-50 on whether the food is edible. Everything he brings you is rotten to the point that it’s inedible. It’s something that happened to food in his presence.

Though, sometimes, a member of the family brings you food instead. The meals are simple, soups and breads and water, but it’s enough that you’re not in danger of dying.

But it’s not enough for you to keep your strength up. Which, you suppose, is the point. The weaker you are, the more likely you are to give in.

You roll onto your side, your back towards the cell door, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you curl your hand around your tail, a nervous habit that you thought you grew out of ages ago…but apparently not. You’re so exhausted that it’s a wonder that you haven’t passed out yet.

You tense when you hear the familiar sound of chains dragging on the stone floor. The noise stops in front of your cell, but the door doesn’t open. Instead the cell across from yours creaks open, and you hear the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and then the door slams shut.

The sound of chains drags away until the dungeon is silent once more.

You roll onto your other side and slowly crawl over to the door. You peek through the bars at the bottom of the door and you try to squint into the other cell.

It’s no use, the dungeon is too dark. You can barely see your own cell, let alone into the one opposite of yours.

You hesitate for a moment, and once you’re sure that you’re alone, you hold your hand out and summon a spark of your magic. The spark floats from your hand, across the hall, and into the other cell. It offers enough light to see a young man, maybe around your age, with dark hair.

“Hey,” Your voice is soft. He doesn’t respond, “Hey!” You repeat a little louder, “Are you still alive?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear a groan, and the young man moves, “Stop yelling.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” You breathe out, you shift a little closer to the bars, and squint at the man, “W-what’s your name?”

He groans again, and you watch as he rolls over and peers at you through the bars of his own door. He’s bleeding from a wound on his temple. “Fixer, what’s yours?” You hesitate for a moment, and then introduce yourself, and he nods once, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to remember that.” He admits as he presses his hand to his head and grimaces.

“It’s okay, you have a head wound. It looks like someone hit you with something heavy. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

He grimaces, “You aren’t wrong about that,” Fixer touches the wound on his head and then drops his hand, “Where are we, sarad?”

“You’re in the old shrine,” You explain quietly, “We’re…we’re pretty deep underground.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I…don’t know. He keeps trying to get me to serve him again, but I can’t…” You hesitate, “Fixer, listen to me. When he comes, you can’t look at him. You can’t meet his eyes. That’s how he exerts his control over people.”

Fixer stares at you for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You release a quiet sigh of relief, “How did he even catch you? You look…well, you look like you can hold your own.”

Fixer grimaces and presses a hand to his temple, “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked. This area is so far away from the front lines-”

“Front lines?” You ask.

Fixer stares at you for a moment, “Mandalore is at war with Serrano.” He explains slowly.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You reply quietly.

“I can tell.” He stares at you for a long moment, “Is there a way out?”

“Of the cells or the temple?” You ask.

“Both.”

“I haven’t found a way out of the cells, but I also wouldn’t know what to look for.” You reply after considering his question carefully, “But the temple has many exits. Just most of them are sealed with magic.”

Fixer frowns, and then you see his gaze flicker to the small orb of light, and then back to you, “Magic like yours?”

“Supposedly. The lower levels of the temple haven’t been regularly visited in…” You shake your head, “I don’t know how long. Before I was born.”

“But,” Fixer says intensely as he stares you in the eye, “If I can get us out of the cells, can you navigate the lower levels of the temple safely?”

“I can try.”

He nods and opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when the sound of chains rattling down the stairs echoes off the stone walls.

You immediately douse the golden light, and scramble to the back of your cell, screwing your eyes shut and turning your head away from the door as the noise gets closer and closer.

He stops in front of your cell, and the door rattles open.

Your breath quickens in fear as the sound of chains gets closer and closer, until you’re able to hear the sickening squelching sound of him approaching you.

And then he stops. And, for a moment, you hear nothing but the deep rattle of his breath and you can only smell rotting flesh, and then a skeletal hand lands on the top of your head, and you cringe away from him, or your try to, he’s quick to fist his hand in your hair.

“My dearest daughter,” He coos, and you slap your hands over your ears. His voice hurts, and you don’t want to hear him. “Have you met the sacrifice? I’m sure you have. Your sisters and cousins have been so good to bring me such a fine specimen. And as I was thinking about it, I came up with a wonderful idea-”

He pauses, as if waiting for you to respond, and when you don’t he shakes you violently enough that the back of your head cracks against the wall, pulling a pained cry from your throat.

“My idea, my dear, is that you’ll be the one doing the sacrificing. Aren’t I such a kind and devoted patron?”

You don’t reply, there’s no point. You can’t convince him that he’s wrong, anymore than you could convince your family, so you just shake your head.

He sighs, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh grows stronger.

He grabs you and flings you into a wall, pulling a second cry of pain from your lips, and then you hear the sound of him moving away from you, “Unfortunate, but it won’t be the first time I have to sacrifice one of my sphinxes.” He says loud enough to be heard over the sound of rattling chains. And then he’s gone, the sound of the chains fading away to silence.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your sob, you don’t want to die, not to him. Not to make him stronger-

And then you jump as the cell across the hall creaks open. You turn to your cell door, and watch, stunned, as Fixer picks the lock, and slides the door open. He looks…furious. Furious enough that you cringe back away from him.

Fixer’s expression gentles, and he enters your cell and he kneels in front of you. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You slowly nod, wincing as the movement shoots pain through your head. “I’ve had worse.” You admit.

Fixer’s gaze flickers down to your bare feet, which are badly bruised, and then to your tail, which has bald spots from stress, “I don’t doubt it.” He agrees, and then he helps you to your feet, “It’s time to go, sarad. How do we get out of here without crossing that…thing?”

“We have to go deeper.” You explain, pointing further down the hallway. “It’s going to get cold.”

“That’s fine. We’ll go slow, and stick together.” Fixer pins you with a severe look, “If you can’t keep up, you need to let me know.”

“I’ll keep up!” You say quickly, “Please don’t leave me behind-”

Fixer’s touch against your shoulder is so very gentle that you kind of want to cry, when was the last time someone was kind to you? “I’m not going to leave you behind, sarad. I just need to know if I need to slow down for you.”

You nervously lick your lips, and you wince when you taste blood, “I can keep up.” You whisper.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll remind you as often as I need to.” Fixer says, and then he lightly tugs you out of your cell and he casts his gaze around, “You said we need to go deeper.”

“Yeah. There’s…or, well, there should be a path that I can open.”

“Should be?”

You shrink under his gaze, and avert your eyes, “Um…”

“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out as we go.” Fixer offers you his hand, “Come on.”

Nervously you take his hand, and Fixer gently propels you down the hall, into the dark.

It takes less than ten minutes for him to stop, a curse falling from his lips, “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I can’t see,” Fixer says, “It’s black as pitch down this hall.”

You blink at him, and then turn to the hall yourself. It’s…not that dark. Sure, it’s not as bright as it might be outside, but you can see clearly enough. Hesitantly you squeeze his hand and tug him down the hall.

“...you can still see?” Fixer asks, and you can feel his stare on the back of your head without looking over your shoulder at him. “Right. Sphinx.”

“Um, it shouldn’t be far. The tunnels underneath the shrine are probably well lit.” You reply nervously as you lead him through the darkened halls, casting your gaze across the floor and walls as you walk.

According to the stories, the passage will be marked with a symbol only visible to a sphinx’s eyes. You hope the stories were accurate. Or else this is going to be a very short escape attempt.

You turn to check on Fixer, who’s been very quiet since you’ve started leading him, and…there!

Your head snaps to the side, when you catch a glimpse of something golden glittering on the wall, and you slow to a stop. “I found it.” You tug him over to the wall, and reach up to touch the sigil, your own magic flowing to the surface of your skin as you touch it.

The magic is old. Ancient even. Old enough that it barely recognizes you as a sphinx, and for one heart stopping moment, you worry that the magic is going to reject you, and then there’s the sensation of sunlight against your skin, and a part of the wall melts away into nothing.

You very nearly topple into the opening, and if it wasn’t for Fixer’s strong arm suddenly around your waist holding you steady, you would have.

“Is that the opening?” He asks, his voice low in your ear.

You nod, and then, remembering that he can’t see, you hasten to add, “Yeah. Um, there’s some kind of magic…I can’t see through it.”

“Does it feel dangerous to you?”

Your tail and ears twitch as you consider his question and the feel of the magic in front of you, “It feels like it could be, under the right circumstances.” You finally reply as he releases you and settles a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. Then we continue.” Fixer says.

“Are…are you sure? I don’t think it will hurt me no matter what, but-”

His grip tightens on your shoulder, “The death we choose is better than any death that this god might give us, sarad. We need to continue. No matter what.”

“...okay.” You lightly take his hand again, and then you take a deep breath and step into the shadow, squeezing your eyes shut as you do so.

Stepping through the shadow feels like walking through cobwebs, and you have to fight the urge to release Fixer’s hand to wipe the sensation off of your face and bare arms. But the sensation dissipates just as quickly as it appeared, and as you open your eyes you’re relieved to see that your prediction about light was correct.

You turn to look at Fixer, and notice that he’s watching the wall slide back into place. “Looks like there’s no way back,” He murmurs, before he glances at you, “And it looks like the only way forward is down.”

“I did warn you,” You say nervously.

He smiles reassuringly, “I know, I’m not mad. I’m actually relieved that you were right.”

“...you are?”

“It means that the stories you were told were right.” He looks around a moment longer, and then he steps off the platform and onto the first step, “So, sarad, what else did your family tell you?”

Fixer’s not sure what to think of Sarad. He knows it’s not her name, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember what her actual name is. It’s frustrating to the point of maddening, honestly, but he can’t think about that now.

Not when the young woman trailing behind him is so nervous and jumpy about absolutely everything.

Not when there’s a literal god hunting them.

She’s thin. Too thin. He has a feeling that she’s been in that cell for a lot longer than she’s even considered. The fur on her tail is patchy, and he can’t help but wonder if she realizes that she’s pulling her own fur out.

He frowns and reaches back to stop her from pulling some more of her fur out, carefully taking her hand in his as they continue down the stairs. “So, Sarad, what else did your family tell you?” Fixer asks.

You frown and tug on one of your ears, and Fixer sighs, he doesn’t have enough hands to stop her from pulling on her ears when she’s nervous, and she’s always nervous. “Grandmother used to tell a story,” Sarad says slowly, “About how, a long time ago, heroes would come to the shrine to ask for a boon from the Goddess-”

“Wait. Goddess?” Fixer asks, “The person holding us was definitely male.”

She nods, “Grandmother says that the Goddess lives in the realm of the divine, and that the man who the sphinx people serve is her most loyal servant. Though I’m pretty sure that’s not accurate.”

“Clearly,” Fixer replies dryly as he reaches up to stop her from tugging on her ear, “Continue.”

“Um, right. Well, heroes would come to the shrine to ask a boon from the Goddess, and they would have to go through her trials. We, the sphinx people, were the guardians of the trials. It was our job to determine if a hero could enter the trials or not.”

“And what were the trials?” Fixer asks, a feeling of dread filling him.

“Um…I don’t know.” She admits nervously, “There haven’t been any heroes trying to enter the shrine in generations. Sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for not knowing. It’s not your fault.” Fixer replies. “Things get lost to history all the time. It just means we have to be careful.”

“You.” She says, and he shoots her a puzzled look, “You have to be careful.”

Fixer slows to a stop and he turns to look Sarad in the eye, “What, exactly, do you mean?”

“Uhm, well,” She tries to grip her tail again, but Fixer swiftly grabs both of her hands and threads his fingers with hers so she’s not able to pull her fur out, “Well…the trials are meant for heroes, and the Sphinx people were guides,” She says quickly while staring at the joined hands in puzzlement, “The trials won’t…er…shouldn’t activate for me.”

“But they will for me.”

“Supposedly.”

Fixer considers her words for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Good.” He says decisively, “You’re injured. More injured than I am, and more injured than you want to admit.”

She ducks her head, “It’s not so bad.”

“Sarad,” He says softly, gently, “Did you even notice that you’ve been pulling out your fur?”

Her gaze snaps to his face and then drops to her tail, and her face falls, “I…no…I did that?”

“You’ve been in that cell for a lot longer than I think either of us will ever know,” Fixer continues, his voice still so soft, “So I’m going to take care of you. And when we get out of here, I’m taking you with me.”

Sarad blinks at him, “What about my people?”

“I’m going to be really mean for a moment and tell you that I don’t care about your people.” Fixer says bluntly, “I care about you. And getting you, specifically, to safety.”

“It’s not their fault! They’re just…they’re brainwashed-”

“Does that make it better?” Fixer interrupts, “What they did to you? What they allowed to be done to you?” She hesitates for a moment, and Fixer continues, “Would you be able to live with them, with the memory of everything that happened to you still living in your head?”

“I…” She trails off, unable to answer, which is an answer in and of itself.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sarad?” Fixer asks, “Will you let me help you? Someday we’ll come back, and we’ll set things right, but we can’t do that with just two people.”

She gnaws on her lower lip for a moment, and then she nods. “I can agree to that.”

Fixer relaxes slightly and a small smile crosses his face, “Thank you.” He reaches out and lightly smooths his hand over her knotted hair, and is surprised when he hears a noise that can only be a purr.

She flushes, mortified, and Fixer releases a laugh as he pets the top of her head a little longer, “How long has it been since someone touched you without the intention to hurt you, sarad?”

“I don’t remember.” She whispers, and then she ducks her head, “Can we keep moving, please?”

He flashes a small grin at her, and then pulls his hand away, only to reach down and take her hand in his once again, “Stay close, Sarad.”

The staircase is massive. And, luckily, it’s not too steep and the stone isn’t too rough on your bare feet, but you’re still grateful that Fixer seems to know when you’re not able to walk any further. In fact, he seems to know when you’re unable to go any further before you are.

At the moment, your arms are around his neck while he continues carrying you down the steps.

“Ah,” Fixer says with a relieved sigh, as he stops and lightly sets you back on your feet. You can see, right away, what caught his attention. An open room, decorated in whites and golds, and a large door on the opposite side of the room. “The first trial, I take it?” Fixer asks you.

You glance at him and shrug, “That would be my guess.”

“Right.” Fixer closes his eyes in thought, “Okay, stay close to me, Sarad. And stay behind me, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You nod and wrap your hands around his upper arm, and then release him again when he shoots you a look, and you sheepishly grab the back of his shirt, “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a moment, “Are you ready?”

“I…I think so.”

Fixer nods once, and starts down the stairs, slowly so as to not rush you, and as soon as the both of you are in the large room, the stairs completely vanish, pulling a startled squeak from you as you press against his back, “It’s okay, sarad. It’s okay. It’s just a little magic. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You cling to him for a moment longer, and then slowly release him, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Fixer looks you over for a moment, “We need to take a break, as soon as we can. A proper night's sleep will help you feel better.”

There’s a sudden swell of magic, and you instinctively lay your ears flat against your head, “Fixer-”

“I know, stay behind me.” He says, his gaze darting around the room.

WELCOME HERO

A voice, loud enough that you have to clamp your hands over your ears to make it a little more tolerable, echoes through the room.

WELCOME TO THE GODDESS’ TRIALS

The booming voice continues.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“A way out,” Fixer says as he makes sure that you’re still behind him, “All I want is a way out. For both of us.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then, again, the booming voice returns.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“I-”

“You have to give an answer,” You whisper, “It’s a spell, designed to activate the trial. Only after you give it an answer. You have to answer in the form of, ‘I seek-’.”

Fixer glances at you, and then frowns, “Seems a bit…convoluted. But fine. I seek,” He emphasizes, “an escape from the temple, for myself and my companion.”

Nothing happens for a moment, and Fixer frowns. Your ears twitch as you search for any sound of movement anywhere in the room, but there’s nothing.

YOU SEEK SAFETY FOR YOURSELF AND ONE OTHER. CONTINUE TO THE TRIAL.

A wall slides open on the other side of the room, and Fixer grimaces. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to be involved in the trials?” He asks.

“I think…I think it’s because you mentioned me.” You offer hesitantly, not really sure yourself.

“Damn. Sorry, Sarad.” He mutters, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” And then he pauses, “Wait, what kind of trials are there?”

“All sorts. There are puzzles and combat and combat puzzles-” You reply nervously.

Fixer grimaces, “Alright. I guess we’ll be going blind from here.” He leads you to the opening in the wall, and as soon as the both of you are on the other side, the wall slides shut again.

“No backtracking allowed,” You whisper as you lightly grip his arm.

“We probably should have guessed that.” He murmurs back to you as he leads you down the stairs.

It’s a much shorter staircase this time, and the room that the pair of you come to is massive, though the only thing in the room is a massive statue. The statue looked like it should have been a woman cloaked in cloth, but the statue has been ruined over the years.

“Who’s that supposed to be?” Fixer asks.

“I think it’s meant to be an aspect of the Goddess,” You reply, “There…there aren’t any depictions of her anymore. They’ve all been destroyed by time.”

“By time? Or by the creature who’s calling himself the Sphinxes Patron?”

“I don’t know. Either one is possible.”

“Hm,” Fixer motions for you to stay near the staircase as he slowly walks around the room, looking for a possible exit, “Hey, Sarad?”

“Yeah?”

“When did heroes stop coming to the temple?”

“Oh, uh…” You tug on some of your hair as you try to remember, “It’s been centuries, if I remember correctly. The stories all say that it’s because there aren’t any more heroes.”

“Hm…does that sound right to you?” Fixer asks.

You’re quiet for a long moment, “I think…” You trail off, and then you fold your arms, “I think the heroes stopped coming here because they were all dying. I think they were sacrificed, just like you were going to be.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Fixer agrees, “All the more reason for us to get out. Unfortunately, I don’t see anything that could be an exit, or a puzzle.”

You move further into the room, and the staircase vanishes as soon as you’re far enough away. You make your way over to Fixer, though you keep your gaze locked on the statue. “I think it has something to do with the statue.”

His gaze drifts to the statue, “That tracks,” Fixer moves over to the statue and carefully runs his fingers over the base, “No-there’s nothing…ah, wait.” He pauses and crouches on the side, “There’s something here-”

Fixer examines the item he found closely, and he frowns, “I think it’s a pressure plate. There’s a symbol carved on it.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he frowns, “Come here, Sarad. I’m not activating this unless you’re next to me.”

You cross the room, back to his side, and lightly curl your fingers around the back of his shirt. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Fixer presses the plate, and there’s a sudden surge of warmth. Magic coils around the pair of you, and suddenly you find yourself on the other side of the room. And the floor is covered in tiles with different symbols etched on them.

And on the other side of the room, a wall opens.

“That’s our way out, I take it.” Fixer says, as his gaze lingers on the tiles on the floor, “What do you think?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat.

“Sarad?” He turns to look at you, and then he pauses, “What’s that?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. Fixer stands and slowly reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your neck.

“There’s…some kind of magic wrapped around your neck.” Fixer says slowly, “It encircles your entire neck.” He frowns, “Are you able to speak?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat again, and your ears flatten against your head.

“I guess not.” He murmurs, “Good thing you’re so expressive.” He frowns at the magic collar thoughtfully, “I guess this is to keep us from cheating? Even if you know the answer, you can’t tell me because the collar prevents you?”

He lightly squeezes your shoulder, “It’s okay, Sarad.” Fixer says soothingly when he sees your distress, “I don’t need help with the puzzles, you don’t have to worry. Stay here. I think the room will reset to normal once I’m at the other side.”

He squeezes your shoulder one more time, and then releases you to turn his attention towards the panels on the floor.

Fixer examines each panel closely, and then after several minutes of this, he steps on one of the panels, and slowly, carefully, makes his way across the room.

Each floor panel he steps on lights up in a warm golden color, and as he makes his way across the room, you feel your anxiety lessen. Fixer doesn’t move onto the next panel unless he’s sure that it’s the right one, and though it takes time, eventually he finds his way to the other side of the room, and he presses his hand against a glowing sigil on the wall.

There’s a blinding flash of light, and, as you blink the spots out of your eyes, you notice that the room has returned back to its original state, save for the open wall on the other side of the room.

“Come on, Sarad,” Fixer says as he turns his gaze towards you, “We can move on now.” He doesn’t move from his spot next to the wall until you’re safely at his side, and he immediately taps your chin to tilt your head back to get a look at your neck, “The collar is gone.” He says, sounding relieved.

“Oh, that’s good.” You say, just as relieved that there’s no longer something forcing you to stay silent. You lightly wrap your hands around his arm, and gently, he tugs you through the opening in the wall.

The wall shuts behind you, and for a moment there’s no light, before torches flare to life. This room is much smaller than the previous room you were in, and there’s nothing in the room at all. Save, of course, for the door that leads to another set of staircases.

Fixer rubs his cheek for a moment, casting his gaze around the room. And then he gently untangles his arm from your grip, and he pokes around the room. “Well, this place seems safe enough.” He says after several minutes of very thorough investigation, “And it’s warm enough in here that we won’t freeze. We should take a break here.”

“You don’t want to keep going?” You ask.

“I don’t think you’re able to keep going.” Fixer corrects. He leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a quiet groan, “Come here, Sarad. You need a break more than I do.”

“...sorry.” You whisper, even as you slide to the floor next to him.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not about this.” Fixer considers you for a moment, and then he, very gently, tugs you onto his lap, and guides your head to rest just under his chin. “There, now you don’t have to sleep on the stone.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Sarad. I’m going to be just fine.” He smooths his hand down your back, and slowly, you drift off to sleep with your fingers curled against his shirt.

Fixer keeps his gaze on Sarad’s face until he’s sure that she’s asleep, and then he releases a quiet breath. Carefully, as to not wake her, he checks her over for any serious injuries, and he releases a sigh of relief when he sees that, aside from being too thin and being covered in bruises, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.

Not that it would matter if she did, it’s not as though he has a first aid kit on him. Fixer adjusts her so that he’s a little more comfortable with her on his lap, and then he reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out the only item that wasn’t taken from him, his comm.

No video or audio, but he is able to send a text message to his brothers.

Fixer, reporting in.

Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for days! Scorch replies, almost immediately.

The boys were right, there is something weird happening out here in the desert. Fixer replies, I got caught, I’m in the process of making my escape as we speak, but it’s a little…complicated.

In what way? Boss asks.

Well, I’m not alone, for one. Fixer glances down at Sarad, and adjusts the comm so that there’s no light shining on her face, For another, I have to perform trials to get out of this place.

The person with you, are they a threat? Sev asks.

No. She was being held by the same person who was holding me…and he’s been holding her for a lot longer. She’s been starved-

You were only supposed to find out what was going on in the desert, Fixer. Not get involved. Boss chides.

He was going to kill her. I couldn’t just leave her anymore than you could have.

I suppose that’s fair. What’s the play then? Boss asks.

I have to get out and get her to safety before anything else. But…there’s some kind of living corpse that’s controlling the Sphinx people. I doubt we’re going to be able to handle it alone. Fixer admits grudgingly, only to pause when Sarad shivers and tries to press herself closer to him for warmth. He sighs and wraps his arm securely around her, and only looks back at his comm when he’s sure she’s not going to wake up. I don’t believe the Sphinx people would be a threat if they knew what they were serving, but this creature has them totally ensnared.

Understood. I’ll inform Alpha. Boss sends back. Odds are we’re going to have to wait until the Serrano thing is handled before we try and deal with this situation. Do you need support?

No. But I’ll let you know if that changes.

Understood. Good luck, vod. Boss replies, and then the comm disconnects, and Fixer slips his comm back into his pocket.

For a moment, he allows his head to bump back against the stone behind him, and then he looks down at Sarad. He’s not going to be able to sleep, and since she can’t help with the puzzles anyway-

Very carefully, Fixer adjusts the way his arms are around her, and slowly he gets to his feet. His sarad doesn’t even stir. Now much more sure of his actions, Fixer turns to the stairs and carefully continues his path through the temple.

Hopefully his Sarad won’t be too upset about letting her sleep.

You stir awake after the best sleep you’ve had in a very, very long time. And the first thing you’re aware of is the fact that you’re moving. You blink up at Fixer, who is now nursing a series of bruises on his face, and you shift slightly.

Fixer glances down at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “Good morning,” He stops moving and carefully sets you on your feet, steadying you as you stretch out.

And then you take in your surroundings.

You’re no longer in the white and gold marble of the upper temple, but rather you’re in the deepest parts. The stone under your feet is cool to the touch, and the only light comes from the blue crystals hanging overhead.

You turn a puzzled look up to Fixer, who, at least, has the grace to look a little sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to keep going while you were sleeping.”

You feel a flash of guilt, “You should have woken me-”

“No need. You were tired, and you can’t take part in the trials anyway.” Fixer points out, “I’ve already gone through three more trials while you were asleep.”

You stare at him, stunned, “You did?”

“Yeah. One of them was a combat trial, which has been the hardest so far since I didn’t have a weapon.” Fixer admits, “But I managed.” He lightly takes your hand in his. “Come on, let’s get to this last trial.”

“Um, okay.”

You allow him to lead you down the stairs, and you press closer to him as you start to get more and more nervous. “What’s wrong, sarad?” Fixer asks.

“I dunno…my fur is standing on end, and I feel scared.” You admit.

He stops and lightly presses his hands against your cheeks, “Hey. There’s no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. We’re going to get out of this.”

“But, what if-”

“I promise.” Fixer interrupts, “I promise that you’re going to be okay. Just trust me.”

Slowly you nod, “Okay.”

His smile is gentle for a moment as he lightly strokes your cheek, and then he releases you and takes your hand in his, offering what comfort he can as he leads you deeper and deeper into the temple.

At last you come to a massive room, with beautiful pillars carved out of crystal, and blue flames lighting the room. And there, in the center, is a frail looking old woman sitting on a throne.

Like you, she has rounded ears on the top of her head, and a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end. And as the pair of you approach her, she opens her eyes and pins you both with her sightless gaze.

She sighs, and it’s sounds like wind across the dune sea, “How long has it been,” the woman murmurs, her voice like sand, “Since anyone has visited me?”

“Do you know her, sarad?” Fixer asks, his voice soft.

You shake your head slowly, “No. But…she feels familiar. Like a memory…or a dream of a memory.”

The woman pins you in place with a stare, and it’s almost as if she’s looking through you. You flinch and try to duck behind Fixer, but find that you’re unable to move.

And then the woman laughs, “My daughters have tried so hard to forget my name and my face, but even now, one of my youngest knows me.”

“Sarad-?”

“I think…I think she’s the Goddess.”

“Indeed I am,” The woman flashes a fang filled smile, “And you are the first visitors I’ve received in centuries. So tell me, hero, what is your wish? Money? Power? Fame?”

“None of that.” Fixer says, as he tugs you behind him, “All I want is a way to get the both of us to safety.”

The old woman tilts her head, “That’s all?”

“That creature was going to sacrifice her-”

“...us,” You correct softly.

“Right, us, to make himself more powerful. We’re not safe here.” Fixer says, “All I want is to get ourselves to safety.”

The woman is silent for a long moment, and then she sighs, “My daughters have lost their way. If I can save at least one, then all will be worth it.” She gazes at Fixer, “I will grant you your wish, on one condition.”

“What condition?” Fixer demands.

“You protect my daughter.”

He scoffs, “I’m going to do that anyway, with or without your condition.”

And she smiles. “Good.” She closes her eyes, and there’s a swell of magic, “Goodbye, son of man. Live well, daughter of the sands.”

There’s a blinding flash of light, and the sensation of sand swirling around you, and then a sudden weightlessness.

Solid ground appears under your feet, and you stumble, and the only reason you don’t fall is because of the strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Fixer?!” A man, identical to Fixer, hurries over. “You…what…how?”

“Boss,” Fixer makes sure that you’re steady, and then you immediately duck behind him, “It appears that we’ve escaped.”

“No kidding!” Another man, this one clad in yellow armor sputters as he hurries over, “I…who’s this?”

You squeak when his gaze lands on you, and you hide behind Fixer, “You’re scaring her, Scorch.” Fixer chides, “She needs medical attention, and so do I probably, and then I’ll tell you everything.”

“No, hold on…does she have lion ears?” Scorch asks as he tries to peek around Fixer to get a good look at you.

“Scorch! Enough!” Boss orders, “Go ahead and get to the hospital, Fixer. Sev should be around here somewhere…kind of glad he’s not here to scare her even more, though.” He mutters.

“Come on, sarad. There’s no need to be afraid, my brothers aren’t going to hurt you.” Fixer says as he turns to look at you and offers you his hand, “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.”

Hesitantly you take his hand.

After all, Fixer has never lied to you before.

Six months later, you’re largely healed, though you’re still much thinner than anyone would prefer, yourself included. You release a rumbling purr as you stretch out in the sun, your tail flicking lazily as you soak up the sun’s rays.

“Sarad,” you crack open an eye to look up at Fixer, who’s watching you with a fond smile on his face, “We’re moving on. We have a new mission.” You yawn widely and then roll over onto your feet.

“Where are we going?” You ask, and then you pout as Fixer pulls a wool cap over your head.

“Serrano.”

“I’m going to turn into a Sphinxcicle.” You whine, “I’m not made for snowy weather.”

“Good thing that we made sure to get you winter weather gear.” Fixer teases, “Come on, Sarad. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He leans in and presses a light kiss against your temple, “Good. Now we need to hurry, or Boss is going to send Sev after us.” Fixer offers you his hand with a small smile, and you grin as you take it.

This isn’t how you expected your life to end up. You expected to die in that desert, unmourned and forgotten. And yet, here you are, surrounded by people who love and worry about you.

And you’ve never been happier.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #Magic and Knights AU #Fixer x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #F!reader fanfiction

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uraveragelonelyhuman · 1 year

Text

Arcane pet headcannons

She has a bulldog and a ratty ass Chihuahua

Dumbass named the Chihuahua something dumb like "Sniffles"

Bulldog is probably "JJ"

You would think the bulldog was the guard dog

Ha, you're wrong

The Chihuahua when you get even a MILLIMETER close to Vi, its biting your fucking ankles

Better run because bitch is CHASING you down

It's like it downed a entire red bull, monster and starbucks venti latte with 19 shots of espresso in 0.1 seconds

Pray bitch

Cause you are not making it out alive

See ya in hell

The bulldog is just as scared of it too

Cowering behind Vi

Chihuahua made its territory known and not backing down

Probably dislikes and likes Cait all at once

Tiny mother fucker is bipolar as shit

Makes a weird face like its sniffing Vi's horrendous farts every 3 seconds

The bulldog is a sweetheart

Would never hurt anyone

Loves cuddling

Is the definition of lap dog because it doesn't leave Vi alone

Will fall asleep anywhere and at any time

Has fallen asleep on the Chihuahua multiple times

Probably stole Caitlyn's pomeranian

Loved it too much not too

Cait isn't getting it back

Walking through the lanes with the dogs who have sunglasses on all at once

Cool dog mom 10/10

EKKO

He has a snake

Probably a ball python

Takes amazing care of it

Most of the time is holding it

And by holding it I mean bitch is wrapping itself around his neck

Not enough to choke amazing Ekko out, don't worry

He good, he good

Loves scaring people with it though

Chases Scar around the hideout with it

"Wanna touch it? C'mon! He likes you~"

"Ekko, I will murder you-"

Scar loves it, can you tell?

One time was interrogating someone at the hideout for info on Silco's operation and out of nowhere the goon started SCREAMING

Bro was confused until he saw his snake slithering down the goons stomach all calm

Goon immediately wanted the snake off of him and gave all the info needed

So now Ekko, when interrogating someone, usually has his snake doing his little thang for a good luck charm

It brings the good tension and intimidation needed

A little dance every now and then

The snake loves the tree

Climbs it everyday

Snake loves him 100/10

The best snake owner known to man

The kids like watching his snake

How he distracts the annoying little shits

VIKTOR

He has a mouse

Probably liked them so much because in the lanes he saw a lot of them

Probably started an army

Little Viktor walking around the lanes with thousands of em swarming behind him

Probably all on drugs

When he left the lanes he probably found one in Piltover

Gave him some nostalgia so he took it

Gave it some food and restored it's health so the little mouse trusted him

Now when he's working on a little device the mouse is most likely on his shoulder

Sometimes just chilling, eating some food but sometimes wants to be involved

Viktor made him his own lab goggles

You've never lived until you've seen this man all focused and shit, his mouse on his shoulder as they both stare intently down at his gadget

1000/10 talks back to the mouse

*Squeak*

"I should do that, Mousecateir."

"Viktor...what the fuck-"

Jayce has walked in on his conversations with the mouse

Stood there for a good 20 seconds before high tailing it out of there

Booked a therapy appointment and definitely snitched to Mel

Viktor has lost it

Made a dam army suit for his mouse

They shall rule the world

SEVIKA

Has a hamster

But this ain't no normal hamster, no, no

This hamster is CLINGING to its last cells of life

Bro regenerates with every breath he takes

Sevika just won't let the little shit go

Even if she tried

Little man refuses to give up

Well past its expiration date

She doesn't even remember when she got it

That's how old the shit ball is

Thinks it dies at least 10 times a day

Freaks out every time but the hamster wakes up every damn time

Y'know how moms wake up when you barely poke them?

Like that.

Like it just got back from WAR and has PTSD

Eyes wide and shaking

Sevika honestly doesn't know what to do

Probably hasn't even drunk any water in well over a year

Or food

Living off the mere urge to live past its comrades in the walls

Jinx loves it though

Loves terrorizing it

Not on purpose

Probably is the reason all its hairs are graying

Probably loses its hair and is now bald

Looks like a shaved ball sack ngl

Man can't even walk no more

Sevika once turned to fast and this little mf went flying at the wall

AND STILL SURVIVED

Sevika found it two days later

"Oh my god, just give up already."

*aggressive squeaking*

"Okay, geez."

Probably will outlive Sevika and society

SILCO

Has a hairless cat

And a crusty white grandma dog

Dog is probably as old as him

Shaking with every step

Can't even walk properly now

The cat just sits there most of the time

Usually just staring at the ones in his office till they leave

Gets along with the dog surprisingly

Jinx probably got him the cat as a surprise

Told her to get rid of it

But as every prophecy foretold, he ended up loving the creature

Feeds it better than anyone

Of course other than Jinx

Loves his animals

The dog is crusty af though

Has been sitting with Jinx the past few years

Help it, please

Probably has had its hair dyed a few times

Scared of Jinx 100/100

Dog will never die

Cat sits on it's back

Took its dog bed

Dog took its cat bed

Love them both

The cat always sits in the rafters with Jinx

Brings her things she forgot

Steals her stuff too

Also sits on Silco's head

Has fallen onto his head from the rafters

Looks unbothered but was screaming inside

JINX

Has a bird

And a black cat

She took the bird, which is a crow, because she got tired of it squawking

So she just plucked it from the arcade after she saw it staring, wide beaked at her after she shot its mother

Has a pretty cage set up for it

Makes little outfits for it and her cat everyday and all day

It sits on her head all the time, like Silco's cat

She talks to the bird all the time, the bird talks back

She's argues with it everyday

Silco has become worried

Talks to it more than the voices

Bird does it on purpose because it knows she doesn't like the voices

Has sometimes pecked at her forehead but it's alright

Threatens to cook and eat it on a daily basis

Bird calls her bullshit

Has pulled on her braids a lot when mad at her

Then flies away when she tried to swat at it

A love hate relationship really

The black cat is because she once heard black cats bring back luck

And she's a jinx so she thought it was a match made in heaven

She found it in the back alley of the last drop

Immediately took it

Didn't care if it had an owner, hers now

She called dibs

Definitely has it on her lab when making bombs and gadgets

She loves it when the cat purrs, it's like a little engine

Names it Whisker, no argument

I will not be hearing anyone out

Names the bird chicken leg

Or barbeque

The bird doesn't like it but she don't care

Barbeque and Whisker hate each other

Has to keep them separate at all times

Or she puts them in time out

Which is usually just her faking them at each other as she makes them apologize

Loves her animals though

Even if they are little shits

#arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #arcane headers #arcane gif #arcane sevika #sevika fluff #sevika arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane headcanons #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #arcane ekko #ekko arcane #arcane silco #silco arcane

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petersprincesss · 2 years

Text

Just a Little Injury, Part 2

Henlo lovelies, here is part 2 of this fic! You can find part 1 here.

Part 1 was just fluff, part 2 is all smut, baby. If you’re not here for smut, please move along.

This was requested by @glogirl888 on my One-Shots of Peter Ballard post. You can find it here to make a request, or just send me a message :)

I will write all requests, but pls give me time :)

Genre: smut that would make your grandma blush

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Tags: male receiving! oral, spitting, choking, dom/sub, praise/degredation... the usual

Peter obliged, pulling your lips together again. His fingers twirled around your hair at the base of your skull, tugging just firmly enough to taunt your senses. This embrace was not as mellow as the last, he was growing impatient, the heat of his body rising alongside yours.

Peter’s opposite hand found the other side of your jaw. With merciful strength, Peter stood, picking you up with him. His hand left your cheek and traveled down to your waist, slithering around to the small of your back and nuzzling your hips into his. Your touch found either side of his ribs below his arms, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Peter’s tongue snaked in between your lips, swiping along your bottom teeth, begging for permission to explore you as a conquistador in a foreign land.

“Peter, I-” You started, breaking the kiss.

“Don’t,” Peter requested, bringing a finger to your lips, “Please, Y/N, I know we’ve broken the rules already.”

“Peter,” you whispered. You stared into his eyes, pleading with him to listen.

“I’m sorry, I know this was too risky, please, I promise I’ll keep this between the two of us,” he bargained, still not releasing his hold on your spine.

“Listen to me,” you instructed, shaking your head and maintaining eye contact, “if I’m going to break the rules I want to break all of them.”

Peter’s eyes smiled, his teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip as he tried to conceal his excitement. He looked at you like you were lightning and he was just praying to be struck.

You grinned at him feverishly and slid your hands up his chest, stopping at his shoulders, kneading them cautiously before sliding your touch away from him and sauntering backwards towards your office door. Your eyes never left his as your fingers slipped around the lock on your door and clicked it, bolting the two of you inside your workspace.

You slinked back to him and your fingers dove into his hair, clenching at the crown of his head as you surveyed your prize. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, inspecting every inch of you, unsure of what he wanted to devour first. His hands found your hips and glided up and down the delicious curves of your waist.

“Well?” You smirked, prodding him to pursue you further.

Peter’s eyes glazed over. His hand shot up to your throat and gripped you aggressively as he latched his lips back onto yours. You moaned into his mouth briefly before his tongue roamed over yours, twisting between your teeth.

Your hurried hands found the buttons of his shirt as you vigorously began undressing the orderly. Once you reached the buckle of his belt, Peter removed his lips from yours and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you sure you want this?” Peter asked, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Don’t make me beg,” you asserted.

“Good,” Peter replied, arching an eyebrow.

He applied pressure to your shoulders, beckoning you down to your knees. You obeyed, bowing before him like a loyal subject. Peter unclasped his belt and slipped it out of its loops, the tail of the belt snapping against his body as he whipped it away from him. He held the belt in one hand, dangling by his side as his opposite hand gripped a fistfull of your hair. You tugged down the zipper of his trousers as he stared you down intently, his brow furrowing into a threatening scowl.

You reached in between the opened zipper and found his member, already firm with excitement. You removed him from his uniform and parted your lips, situating yourself higher to give your mouth better access to him.

Peter pulled you back with his grip on your hair, forcing your gaze to meet his. Your mouth fell agape, a second heartbeat quickly forming between your legs as you anticipated the pleasure you were so eager to give him.

Peter’s lips pursed and a single string of saliva streamed from them, falling purposefully into your mouth. Peter pulled you closer to his member, perching your lips on his tip.

“Be a good girl for me and make me proud,” he instructed as he finally allowed you to take him in your mouth.

His head fell back as soon as he entered you, a lustful groan escaping his lips and echoing through your office. You quivered beneath him, thrilled by the satisfaction you had already brought him. You wasted no time pulling all the stops, your pride edging you to empty him quicker than he had ever released for anyone else.

Peter kept his grip woven into your hair, but he did not selfishly push you onto him. Instead, he provided gentle persuasions, guiding your throat over him so he hit you where he needed you most. You coughed when his guidance hit too close to the back of your throat, but the vibrations from within you only excited him further. He moaned as he let you take control again, your tongue skillfully wrapping around him.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he requested. His grasp left your hair and settled beneath your chin, tilting your head slightly so your eyes could meet his.

He tried to maintain his dominant ego, but you could see him cracking beneath your masterful manipulation. Tears formed in your eyes and pooled beneath your lower lash line, making a mess of your once so innocent visage.

Peter relished at the sight of you so ruined on your knees for him. Your watering eyes so desperate to look into his as you slipped up and down him, your hands rested so obediently on your thighs, your lips so plush wrapped around his member. The vision of you alone pushed him closer to his release. Although he towered over you, you held him in the palm of your hand, knowing his pleasure relied solely on when you decided to push him over the edge.

“God, your throat feels too good,” Peter beamed.

You could feel his hips bucking, goading you to bring him to his climax. A wave of heat flushed over your chest as you thought of getting up and walking away, leaving him there alone so desperate for release. If he wasn’t so devastatingly handsome, you would have considered it more intently.

“Can I cum in your throat, pretty girl?” Peter asked hurriedly. You closed your eyes and nodded on his cock, taking a deep breath to prepare to swallow him.

Peter’s hand found the back of your skull again, this time softly caressing your hair affirmatively. You shook him in your mouth, the tip of your nose brushing back and forth against his lower abdomen. Peter released inside you, primal grunts escaping his lips as you drank him in. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he moaned your name. You knew he was at his most sensitive right after release, but you couldn’t stop trying to please him, your desire to overstimulate him and force him to never forget this experience rising inside you.

“Okay… here…” Peter huffed, offering his upturned palms to meet yours.

You obeyed him again, placing your hands in his as he helped you stand back up. Once on your feet, his hands found your cheeks and he pulled you in for another intoxicating kiss.

“How does your cum taste in my mouth?” You smirked, your eyes darting between his and his lips.

“It tastes like it should be there more often,” Peter sighed, tucking himself back into his uniform.

You chuckled at his answer, his naughty hints towards this being a recurring experience sending a shock up your spine.

“You’re going to have to let me return the favor, though,” Peter commanded, the back of his knuckles dragging aimlessly along the apple of your cheek, “I’d sure feel bad if I didn’t.”

You flashed your teeth at him, sparks flying in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine the sight of him between your legs without glowing red.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

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skullsnbruises · 11 months

Note

may you write some nage!tubbo with t!Ranboo noms with some fearplay and teasing in it plz, love your art btw! ^^

-crystal

I know allium duo is Ranboo and Tommy,, but the opportunity was there between him and Tubbo soo . Also thank you for the request! I don’t see these two enough (despite them being such a common duo???) and it was fun to write something quick. Hope you enjoy as well!

Ao3 link

Taglist @brick-a-doodle-do @poprockpanda

Off the Path

(1252 words)

“Okay, what do you do when you’re lost in the woods…?”

Wherever they turned was just… trees. He’d probably long since lost the path, and by the sky turning a vibrant orange, it looked like it was going to be useless finding his way back.

The sun was setting, and Ranboo was screwed.

“I can’t stay where I am,” they thought of the age-old advice, “Nobody knows I’m out here…”

Ranboo peered around, all the stupid greenery looked the exact same. Nothing pointed them to a logical exit. They felt frozen with anxiety.

“Do I just pick a direction??”

He gulped hard, staring in the face of his fears.

They sighed, and decided yes, he would just pick a direction and start walking. The forest couldn’t be that big that he wouldn’t at least find something soon. Right?

And so Ranboo took a few steps, worried about pushing through bushes and getting pricked by thorns. He cursed themself out for getting so distracted earlier. If he hadn’t strayed off his hike, if they weren’t so caught up picking up those pretty purple flowers…

Though, the alliums did look pretty.

They sighed. He tried to keep his hopes up that they’d find the path, or the edge of the forest, or anything at all very soon.

And then Ranboo stumbled upon something, to say the least.

Their foot caught on a root, and they tripped, falling face first into the ground. He spit out the dirt and wiped furiously at his face, blinking rapidly. When their eyes cried out all the dust, through the teary watery vision, Ranboo could see an opening.

Not a clearing in the woods, but the opening to a cave.

There were a few hills about, some significantly taller than others, but very few cliff sides or visible rock. This cave proved to be interesting, at the very least somewhere to check out- or worst case forbid- sleep in for the night.

Ranboo watched the sky as it was now settling into a gorgeous dark shade of blue and purples. It was practically nighttime now.

Not wanting to be caught with wolves in the pitch black, Ranboo chose the cave over the possible dangers of the forest.

He traced along the cave walls as he walked through, and it went farther back then he would’ve expected. It wasn’t small either, instead of closing up quickly and shrinking to meet his height, the roof stayed relatively equal, trailing all the way back until they reached an open area. Studying the rocky room, Ranboo had to stop and question if this cave was even natural. The walls were obviously scratched, and some areas looked like rock was forced out of the way. Maybe it was a den… but what on earth was so big that it needed so much…

Space?

Ranboo’s eyes met another set of piercing yellow slits.

A figure began to slowly wiggle upwards, growing impossibly above them, showing off a tall… person?

“Hello there…” the giant figure spoke out slowly, “who are you, and why the hell are you in my den?”

Out of the shadow, a forked tongue flicked out, and the figure came closer, revealing itself to be that of a naga.

Ranboo’s mouth fell agape, “N-n-naga?!”

The enormous mythical being laughed boomingly, “Hah! Have you never seen one before?”

He was completely paralyzed, fear shooting his nerves and forcing them to stand still, shoes digging into the ground and hands clenched into clammy fists. They felt weak and nauseous.

“What’s wrong? Scared?” The naga held a mocking tone as it slithered closer. There was a deafening thump, as its tail thud behind Ranboo, effectively trapping him inside the cave.

“P-please don’t hurt me!” Is all their choked throat could manage out.

“Hurt you!” The snake beamed, “Oh, you’re fun, I can tell already. My name is Tubbo. And you are…” Tubbo reached out a clawed hand.

“R-Ranboo…” They squeaked, grabbing Tubbo’s finger with his sweaty hand, and gave the most pathetic excuse of a handshake ever.

“It’s funny how scared you are.”

The human shrank back, “I- are you going to kill me?”

Tubbo’s eyes lowered, considering, “Well. It would be fun to mess around first.”

Ranboo felt tears spill over his cheeks. They were going to die, never see their friends or family again, all because he wanted to pick some stupid flowers and got lost.

“Awe, don’t look so sad,” Tubbo’s hands came horrifyingly close for someone who just threatened to kill him.

“P-please,” Ranboo tensed, holding back sobs, “don’t-“

Tubbo slumped down, and his tail shifted around. The small circle Ranboo was confined to shrank more, closing in as Tubbo readied to take their life.

A sob wracked through his fragile body, causing Ranboo to collapse to his knees, crying and pleading and begging. Anything to bargain for their life. The naga stared through them as Ranboo searched his person, trying desperately for anything to convince him.

“P-please, I- don’t-“ their hand settled on the pocket to their jacket, and he weakly pulled the alliums out. With a shaky limb, he lifted the flowers up to the naga, “W- Please- spare me-“

Tubbo’s breath hitched, and his face was dumbfounded, “Flowers??” His hands fell to his sides and all he could do was scrunch his eyebrows in confusion, looking between the offering and the human’s face.

Ranboo shrugged weakly, “Don’t kill me…”

“Holy shit-“ Tubbo burst into laughter, “this is pathetic, okay- whatever- fine.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened, and their body stilled nervously.

“You’re so annoying, whatever. I won’t kill you,” Tubbo rolled his eyes playfully, “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen a human do, and for that, and making me laugh, whatever. You can stay alive.”

Ranboo let out a deep breath they weren’t aware they were holding, “T-thank you!”

Just before he was about to move, the naga had him scooped into his palms, and Ranboo was lifted into the air defenseless. They let out a yell as their body was dangled above the monster. Tubbo grinned, giant fangs on display as Ranboo kicked and flailed.

“Wait- you said!-“

Tubbo snickered lowly, “I said I won’t kill you, but I still want to mess with you.”

And with his dark admission, Tubbo began to lower Ranboo’s shaking body to his open mouth. The human let out a cry again, pleading once more uselessly.

Tubbo wrapped his forked tongue around the human’s body, pulling Ranboo into his maw. He swished the crying person around, pressing his body to the roof of Tubbo’s mouth. The naga gave a hard swallow, and Ranboo sobbed as they were forced down his gullet, sliding along the muscle down, down, down…

Tubbo scoffed, “Stop crying, Ranboo. I’ll let you out when it’s morning. You’re nowhere near the nearest human town, so I’ll help you when I’m done hunting, okay?”

The human was trapped inside the naga’s organ, saliva dripping off his wet body. Ranboo shivered, blinking through the disgusting wetness, “W-what?”

“You’re safe,” Tubbo’s voice explained, muffled, “I’ll deal with you later, okay?”

“O-okay…?” Ranboo tried to sit, crossing their legs as they shifted uncomfortably. If they didn’t start digesting in the next minute, they might just believe the snake. He hushed, staring at the organ walls surrounding him. At least it was warm, and somewhere to stay until morning.

Tubbo sighed, already exhausted. He looked to the ground, picking up an allium and placing it behind his pointed ear before he left his den.

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dingbatnix · 1 year

Text

Warden

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Dream reference

So like, Warden hybrid Dream stuff. We need more of it, both here and on ao3, and after finding out that the concept existed a couple months back, I went on a search to read any and all fics about it. There were only like 23 : (

Very sad, yes, but I had a splurge of inspiration and began to write this! So, those of you who enjoy warden!Dream, come get y'all Juice!

Also, this is gonna have multiple chapters n'stuff.

Ah! I forgot! Thank you to @da3dm for proofreading!!

(Btw, qué la chingada means what the fuck)

Word Count: 2,084

Warnings: Description of transformation, Violence, Blood, Mentions of torture, Mention of injury, ect.

His mask broke with a bone-chilling crack, and with it shattered his last secret, his last hope of surviving. The enchantments laced into the cool white porcelain that kept it firmly stuck to his face fractured, revealing, pale, milky green eyes, his scarred, fear-scrunched nose, his bared lips that barely covered long, sharp teeth, and most terrifying of all, the enchantment that suppressed all of his hybrid features vanished.

Cold terror washed through Dream when he felt the masking enchantments fade, felt the scraping, creaking sensations as his antlers regrew, as his ears sprung out, as all of his hybrid features materialized back onto his body.

His chest cracked and fissured as it split, followed by a repeated crunching when his ribs broke and poked out in a spiky cage protecting his organs. Dream's booming-drum heartbeat filled the tiny space of the cell, pounding through every other little scuff and scrape of fabric against obsidian and echoing firmly in his newly-sensitive eardrums.

His long, thin, tufted tail tore through his suddenly too-short pants and slithered out behind him, immediately curling fearfully around his lengthening, thickening legs. His arms stretched longer, sticking out from the already torn sleeves of his prison uniform, while his hands grew bigger and gained vicious-looking claws on the end of each of his fingers. The seams of his shirt strained, and a few even popped, when his shoulders broadened and his torso thickened, stretching the thick fabric to the max.

He even grew a full two feet taller, now towering an entire head over Quackity, even as he was on his knees.

"Oh, Christ!" Quackity recoiled, yanking his arms away from Dream's shifting body. Horror and disgust was smeared all over his face, and his shark-like teeth were bared defensively.

"¡¿Qué la chingada?!” The avian stepped back a few paces, eyes wide as he stared at Dream’s true form. He sputtered, obvious shock coloring his tone. “What the–wha–Are you a fucking warden?”

The avian's eyes danced sickeningly over Dream's body, obviously not needing an answer from the prisoner.

A slick smile slowly spread across his torturer’s face, like hot lava spreading over the ground, as obvious thoughts and ideas started to pool in his head. Quackity stepped closer, fingers twitching as he stared at the trembling figure of his victim. His gaze suddenly latched onto Dream's dull eyes, and a frown creased his brow.

"Wait," Quackity yanked the hybrid's head down with a hand on his chin, peering sharply at Dream's face. Dream forced his eyes to go vacant, hoping, no, praying, that Quackity hadn't seen him actually seeing.

"Are you actually blind?" The avian questioned incredulously. He jerked Dream's head closer, inspecting the cloudy orbs in Dream's eye sockets. "Like, actually, like a full warden?"

Dream managed a choked whine, panic and gut-wrenching fear twisting his throat until it felt like he was being strangled.

"Answer me when I speak to you, Dream." His torture's tone turned his blood to ice, and he had to stop himself from shuddering.

"Y-y-ye-es," he finally managed to stutter out. Terror was clogging his throat, clogging his airways, and he could barely breathe. Dream was vaguely certain that he was going to pass out.

"Yes, what, Dream?" Quackity curled a hand around one of Dream's thick antlers and yanked, painfully wrenching Dream's head at an awkward angle.

Dream yelped, stuttering out a weak "y-yes, Sir," and God, he hated it, hated being so easy to bend, hated being so submissive, but it had been beaten into him, and he didn’t think he’d ever get the opportunity to even try to recover from breaking and try being himself ever again.

Of course, Dream wasn't actually blind, like his fully blooded cousins. His eyes were just naturally dull and cloudy.

But…he'd been threatened with being blinded before, before he got the hiding enchantments on his mask, because he was half-warden and his tormentors thought it would be funny. Ironic. He'd gotten out of that situation unscathed, but…here, with Quackity? There was no getting out, here. Quackity could blind Dream, if he wanted. There was no one to stop him. Hell, now he might just gouge Dream's eyes out, just because he thought Dream was blind and didn't need them. Dream hoped and prayed that it wouldn't come to that. Hoped Quackity wouldn't think of that.

"How the hell have you been doing all the shit you've done, then? If you’re fucking blind?" His torturer hissed suspiciously, using the hold he had on Dream’s antler to tug him closer. Dream suppressed a whimper, and, shockingly, an irritated growl. Where the hell had that come from?

"E-echolocation. Hearing. Sm-smell." Dream blurted out the first possibilities that came to his mind, desperate to sell his newest bid for just a tiny, tiny chance of hope that Quackity would believe him.

"You've been smelling us?!" Quackity exclaimed incredulously. His grip slid from the antler, releasing Dream from the painfully awkward angle. "That's fucking creepy!" He took the bait, blindly believing Dream's lie.

The avian's nose wrinkled, but he moved on all the same, eyes roving over Dream's antlers and ears, then moving down to his chest, where a soft teal glow was filtering through the overly stretched material of his shirt. The avian's hand moved to pluck at one of the wooden buttons, all of which were straining to keep both sides of the fabric together. Dream flinched.

Quackity dragged his fingers down the front of his bright orange shirt and tugged at it. Dream's heart sped up, the harsh sound echoing heavily around the small space of the obsidian cell. Quackity heard his pounding heart and almost seemed to brighten, a horrible shine lighting up his single working eye.

With a horrible tearing sound, the front of Dream’s shirt was ripped open, taking away the last of the hybrid’s weak protection against his torturer. Panic overtook Dream, and he scrambled back, as far as he could until his spine was pressed against the wall, but it was no use. Quackity followed determinedly after him, a wicked, overeager smile curling over his scarred lips as his eyes danced over Dream’s exposed chest.

The avian ran his fingers down his exposed ribs, fingernails scraping sickeningly against the bare bones as he seemed to admire Dream’s unprotected insides. Dream could see the cold glint of greed in Quackity’s eyes, and it truly scared him.

Wardens were hard to kill, and that made their drops valuable. It made their antlers, their claws, their hearts, even their teeth, any little bits of their body that people could get their hands on, incredibly sought after. That meant–that probably meant that Dream, in Quackity’s eyes, was now nothing more than possible revenue. So, damn right Dream was scared. He had just been reduced from 'plaything' to 'merchandise.'

A cold finger prodded at one of his lungs, eliciting a sharp, choked yelp out of Dream from the almost jolting sensation against his delicate flesh. Another sharp jolt, more poking fingers, and then Quackity sucked in an awed gasp.

“Holy shit,” Quackity murmured, hooking a finger around one of Dream’s ribs and tugging at it. Dream leaned forward obediently despite his terror, silently cursing himself for the mindless action. His torturer’s next words almost had him suffocating, the weight of his own fear almost too much for him to even breathe. “Is that–That’s your heart,” Quackity breathed, as if Dream didn’t know his own body. "Like, actually your heart." The glow of his pulsing heart bathed his torture's face in a sickening teal light. The color was usually beautiful, comforting even, to Dream, but now it was twisted horribly, pulling ugly shadows on Quackity's scarred, eager face and clashing horribly with the light the wall of lava caging them in provided.

Dream whimpered, flattening his ears and turning his head away as Quackity's hand inched nearer and nearer to his most important organ, the thing that fucking kept him alive. His heartbeat, already unhealthily fast, sped up to the point of pain. The booming, staccato thud seemed to drown out every other sound in the cell, and it was the only thing that Dream could hear.

When Quackity’s fingers finally brushed against the frantically throbbing muscle, something in Dream reared its head up from some recently-buried part of his mind. Something dark, feral, and Wild.

A heavy, twisted growl poured out of his throat, and suddenly, he was gripping his torturer’s wrist with a fist of thick, heavily armored claws so harshly that Dream could hear the man’s bones crack.

Quackity shrieked, both in pain and indignation, and then there was a netherite sword being swung at Dream’s skull. Dream tilted his head and let the deadly blade sink into his antler with a sharp tunk! His furious growl built up louder, and he used Quackity’s arm to brace himself as he pushed himself to his feet. There was an audible snap of bones, and Quackity’s screamed curse rivaled the volume of Dream's own feral vocalizations. Dream stretched up to his full height and was forced to hunch, suddenly too tall for the small cell when his antlers and shoulders scraped against the ceiling. The netherite sword was torn from Quackity’s grasp when he stood, too firmly lodged in Dream’s antler for it to be easily ripped free.

Quackity, meanwhile, was screaming into the ceiling for Sam to “Get him the fuck out of here!” and had pulled out a shield with his uninjured left hand.

Dream’s grasp on Quackity’s arm slipped off when the warden hybrid reached up to tear the sword from his antler, and it was thrown to the side with a metallic clatter. His torturer was backing away with the shield raised, eyes widened comically as they followed the path of his sword.

Suddenly, Dream pounced, diving towards the avian like a large, enraged bear. His clawed hands crashed through the avian’s shield, the brute power driving the blow crushing the rectangle of wood like a mallet to a block of butter and continuing to cleave a nasty series of deep gashes across the man’s side and stomach. Quackity had managed to turn, just in time, to avoid the potentially fatal blow, but was not fast enough to dodge it completely.

The thick scent of blood filled the cell, mixing in with the burning stench of molten rock and the lingering, heady smell of healing potions from the past sessions the avian had held with Dream. Quackity cursed again and stumbled away, shaking off the splintered remains of his shield and backing up to the bright, blinding orange of the lava wall.

“Go to the corner!” Sam shouted through the intercom, confusion audible in his voice. “What the hell’s going on in there?” Quackity didn’t deign to answer, seeing as their huge, furious, half-warden prisoner was currently attempting to eviscerate him.

Dream was too lost in his panic-driven instincts to rely much on thought and logic, so when he lunged towards Quackity with a bloodcurdling roar and outstretched hands, he didn’t think much of it when the avian dove underneath him and scrambled to the shallow pool of water in the back corner of the cell.

Dream’s hands dipped into the lava, to no effect other than a warm, almost burning heat surrounding his fingers, but he paid it no mind. He spun around, splatters of burning lava flying from his hands, and latched his focus back onto Quackity. The man was pressed into the corner, standing in the shallow pool of water meant for respawning in.

The avian's thin chest heaved, and his unbroken hand was clutching at the wall behind him. He had nothing to defend himself with, a fact that made something inside Dream coil with pleasure.

His torturer had nowhere to go.

Dream lunged, and Quackity disappeared in a rain of potions and shattering glass. Dream smashed against the wall with an earth-shaking screech, deadly claws raking chips in the rough obsidian blocks. His assailant, his prey, had escaped. A displeased snarl had him baring long, razor sharp fangs, and his tail thrashed angrily behind him.

His inexplicable fury died out suddenly, leaving Dream feeling weak and strangely empty. He slid down to the ground, body shaking, and curled over his legs with a whimper.

What had just happened? What had he just done? Oh God, Quackity was going to kill him for real now.

Dream wanted to throw up.

He was so fucked.

#writing #c!dream #c!awesamdude #c!quackity #i gotta figure out how the normies tag things Heck #mcyt #dsmp #warden!dream #warden hybrid!dream #hybrid!dream #tw violence #n'stuff #i think that might be good #i dunno tho #will have art for this later #will also be v slow to update #warden hybrid dream #warden dream #size difference

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