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joonsdragoneyes · 3 years

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We’re live [Gamer!Jungkook x Reader][M]

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warnings: Smut, profanity, semi-public sex, protected sex (reader is on birth control), mentions of reader needing reading glasses, oral m receiving, drooling, handjobs, orgasms male and female, f and m orgasm denial/edging, big dicks, body worship (kinda), tattoos/piercing's, mentions of sex in other locations, minor hair pulling, mentions of disapproving families/hiding things from parents, mentions/descriptions of reader having a large chest, reader is kind of bratty, usage of the word cock, voice kink if you squint

Genre: Smut, some angst, streamer/youtuber au, college au if you turn on a blacklight

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: You and Jungkook have been living together for a little over a year now, a big decision after your previous several years of dating. He, of course, brought his job with him- a full gaming set up, which you happily let him set up in a spare room. Your boyfriend was a pro-gamer. This job usually kept him busy, his focus on his screen rather than you for a majority of the day. You normally didn’t mind this at all, since you were usually out during that time anyway. Today, however, was different. You were home, attempting to study as he worked in order to give him the space he needed. Except, you were missing him in a way you hadn’t in a while, and the only way to get rid of this frustration would be to get him away from his work.

{A/N: This work is completely unedited, so apologies for any typos.}

----

You could hear him yelling through the door.

The laptop sitting in front of you was beginning to dim from lack of use, the loud shouts from the room a bit down the hall further ruining your already destroyed concentration. Your glasses slid down your face as you lifted, the feeling causing you to pull them off. Flopping tiredly against the back of the chair, you took one final look at the multiple windows you had open on the screen as the screen finally went black, leaving you with nothing but your reflection on the screen. Your hair was messily tied back, strands and chunks falling around everywhere from where they escaped from your hair tie. You looked away from the sight of your own face, burying your face in your hands as your elbows came to rest on the shiny, hardwood table; you slamming the device shut as your hand lowered, your fingers pulling the skin down along with it. You sighed in frustration, letting your head flop back against the chair as you slid down, your butt now hanging off of the seat.

His voice practically bounced off the walls, each full-concentration shout of sudden frustration ringing through the house. Each time caught your attention, snatching you quickly from your exhausted daze. He seemed to be having fun in-between moments of what you assumed was either interacting with the chat or moments where it sounded like he lost- or rather, almost lost. You could already hear him coming out in a few hours, bragging about he remained undefeated in a game you couldn't remember the name of, a large, bright grin present on his face, his own pulled back hair messily sprawled in every possible direction.

You sometimes watched his streams and videos while you worked, at least you used to. It always ruined your concentration when you did, as it was now, but they were admittedly entertaining. He never knew you did, you showed little interest in his job, and you'd rather keep it that way.

Sitting up, you lifted your hands to adjust the straps dangling uncomfortably down your shoulders, adjusting the rest of your top in the process, pulling it up from where it slid down, at this point revealing almost everything. It appeared to have shrunk given how tight it was and how easily it slid down, but it wasn't like it would be anything your boyfriend hadn't seen before in the instance you failed to notice and flashed him. The tank top you had on usually did well with covering everything, but knowing that lately, for some reason, it wasn't, made you frown. It was comfortable and nice to wear around the house; you just felt irritated adjusting it constantly.

You stood up, moving toward the various loud sounds coming from the room. The door clicked as you turned the knob, pushing the large wooden object open, the many lights strung on the walls greeting you as you stepped inside the large room. The whiteboard he had hanging on the wall was full of writing and multiple expressive doodles- a few piles on the floor from a few other random activities. It was dark aside from the many lights hanging from the walls and ceiling, your boyfriend well illuminated by the glow from the multiple monitors sprawled in front of him.

Turning to face him fully, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you paused. He hadn't noticed you yet. You felt odd about walking in like this. You had never interrupted him while he was working unless he needed something, in which case he usually just came to get you. You honestly didn't even know if any of his fanbase knew he was in a relationship at all-; you both usually just kept to yourselves. Aside from him eventually coming upstairs to meet you in bed to sleep, coming out to eat, or the occasional 'date'- which was just running errands together or him coming with you to watch a movie you were pretty much already leaving for- you both didn't really spend a lot of time together. At least you hadn't recently.

The sight of his wide eyes and pouty expression made your heart melt, and you couldn't help but smile. He was sitting in his much-bigger-than-him gaming chair, his legs crossed with his knees near his chest as he leaned forward, his expression serious despite the generally cute nature of everything else about him. His way too big shirt swallowed him easily, and it was only at this moment that you realized he had borrowed one of your hair-ties. The pale purple band was more than familiar, and there it was, tightly holding his long black hair neatly in place.

"Jungkook-" You started as you moved close, his head instantly lifting in order to meet you, his serious expression quickly growing soft. He seemed a little confused seeing you in here but still happy about it nonetheless.

You suddenly panicked slightly, watching the screen nervously in the hope you didn't appear in the camera too much, mostly attempting to keep your face out of frame. Gently, you leaned against the back of the chair, his teeth quickly appearing in a wide, excited grin. "Do you need anything?" He asked, his bright, wide eyes meeting yours. You could feel the excitement radiating from him, his lips and cheeks pink in the light from the lamp as he spoke. "Just missed you." You admitted, crossing your arms against the back of the chair as you leaned slightly forward.

The chat on one of the monitors suddenly sped up, you noticing it from the corner of your eyes. A loud mix of emotes and words in all caps filled the screen, zooming by before you could read any of them. You watched Jungkook slide his headphones off, letting them rest on his neck as his legs uncrossed, his socked feet flopping against the carpet. "Here, you can sit with me and watch." He chirped, quickly pausing whatever game he was playing and scooting over to make as much room as he could. You shook your head.

"No, I..." You trailed off, pouting a bit as you lift your arms, moving your hands around your face in a way you hoped emphasized your unwillingness to be on camera. You knew they could see your body just fine, but you were on your computer all day and hadn't slept well, so showing your face was definitely out of the equation. Jungkook simply let his head fall slightly to the side in confusion, letting out a small "But you look fine.".

You pouted, watching as he quickly stood up, the chair rocking slightly as he slid out of it. "Here, I know just the thing." He quickly shuffled near the back of the room and over to the closet doors, pulling them open. You watched quietly as he began to shuffle through a box, the already present pout on your face growing stronger. You recognized that box. That box was from your senior prom. You already knew what he was looking for.

He quickly pulled out a black mask, the very one you had worn years ago. Why he had kept it this long, you didn't know, but you still found yourself sighing as you realized it would still work. You didn't really want to remember that masquerade themed prom, especially considering neither you nor Jungkook had fun during a majority of it. It had its moments, but you had hoped you wouldn't have to go near that specific costume again.

"Sorry, it's all I've got." He whispered, gently placing it in your not-very-eagerly awaiting hands. Taking a deep breath, you slid the mask onto your face as Jungkook scoot past, flopping once again into the large chair, his voice loudly sounding as he began to interact with the apparently very excited chat.

Once again adjusting your top, you moved over to where your boyfriend was sitting, plopping down next to him as one of his muscular arms wrapped around your waist as you settled against him, your thighs touching. You shuffled, wrapping your arm around his waist as well, your legs bouncing from where they hung off the seat as Jungkook pulled the chair forward. You felt the tension in your crossed legs relax as you realized you'd only be seen from slightly above your waist.

His hand slid around you, grabbing onto the controller resting on his thighs. Your arms flopped to the side, resting against your boyfriend's thighs in an attempt to keep them out of the way. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his sweatpants, your head coming to rest gently on his shoulder. Jungkook grinned, his teeth shining through his lips the more comfortable you became.

You could feel his voice vibrating against you as he spoke, the sound making you feel warm inside, a soft tingle running from your head to your thighs. "What're you playing?" You questioned, leaning against his strong shoulder, enjoying his warmth. His face slowly contorted slightly in thought, a pout forming on his lips as he noticeably racked his brain for the answer. "Astrotech." He finally responded, his expression moving quickly back to the way it was, his cheeks noticeably a bit pink.

Various loud booms and screeches flooded from the headphones around his neck, which he had turned up for you to hear. You didn't know what was going on it, but the sight of him expertly doing whatever objectives or maneuvering the obstacles in the game was somewhat fascinating to you.

He suddenly squirmed under you as you adjusted yourself, the sudden movement surprising until you realized your hand had just accidentally rubbed along his thigh in the process. Your lips pressed together in thought, realizing just how sensitive he seemed to be. Deciding to see if that was truly why, you cautiously ran your hand along his thighs, feeling him once again squirm under you. The barely audible groan of protest as you slightly ruined his concentration made something in your brain just click.

You knew why you were so distracted earlier.

Slowly, your hand moved along his leg before sliding inwards towards the warmth where they met. Before he could squirm again, you gave a soft squeeze to his strong thighs, enjoying the slightly surprised noise that escaped. He seemed annoyed that you were attempting to distract him, but his lack of any indication for you to stop or any sort of 'no' from him gave you the willingness to continue.

Your hands moved further up, sliding along the space between his legs and up towards his stomach. He had stopped moving aside from the slight tremble of his thighs as you made your way along. His legs slightly parted, allowing you to continue on your way, the outline of the package you were searching for soon starting to appear in his sweat pants. You licked your lips gently, tracing the outline with your fingers, enjoying the sighs you heard from his weak attempts to keep quiet.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you when you're done." You suddenly spoke. "I just came to visit because I missed you, but you seem pretty busy with work." You added, pulling your hand away as you stood, sliding out of the chair as you moved quickly towards the door. Thoughts ran through your brain as your hand grabbed the doorknob, opening it before gently shutting it immediately after. You turned to look at your boyfriend still sat behind you, biting your bottom lip in thought.

Slowly and quietly, you dropped down to your knees, crawling on the ground over to the desk as you swiftly slid under it. Leaning forward, you grabbed the tops of his pants, slowly pulling them down as you felt your eyes grow wide at the sight. You had seen it before, but it was still a pleasant surprise each time.

Your hands moved along his legs, swiftly grabbing the still mostly soft length, pumping them quickly as Jungkook once again squirmed under you, his legs spreading. You could feel him continuously growing under you as you moved, the sight and feeling causing your thighs to tingle.

Licking your lips, you moved forward, licking the tip of his eagerly awaiting cock, listening as he tried to stifle a pleased hum. Before he could fully react, you took the full length in your mouth before sliding down, bobbing your head with vigor, enjoying the soft noises that escaped as a result of your movements. Your hands continued to slide quickly, making up for what you couldn't reach.

Your boyfriend sighed above you, doing his very best to act as normal as he possibly could. The soft clicking and tapping from his controller continued, you only drooling as your head continued to lower, taking in as much of the steadily hardening length as you possibly could. Pawing at him for the bit you had the chance to seemed to work, not quite in the way you had hoped, but you were fixing that just fine. A soft slurp sounded as you suddenly lifted your head, the noise causing you to pause as you hoped no one had heard the sinful action going on under the desk. The conversation between him and the on-going chat seemed to be normal despite his occasional deep sighs. His fingers ran through your hair, giving a slight tug as you continued, closing your eyes as you attempted to savor the moment- still being careful to make as little noise as possible.

A sharp tug to your thick hair pulled you upwards, your breasts practically in his lap as your arms lifted, grabbing onto his thick black hoodie in an attempt to keep yourself steady. You hummed a bit in surprise, the action causing his strong hands to increase their grip on you as your head only continued to bob. He was gasping now. Loud pings and sound effects rang from the screen from what you assumed was possibly the hundredth donation of the night. You increased your speed, enjoying the strong but more gentle tug that followed with each movement of your salivating mouth.

You were only wondering how he was managing to hide this so well.

Your gaze slowly moved upwards, checking his expression. His face was flushed, his teeth on display as he bit his lower lip in a last attempt to keep quiet. His expression was otherwise unchanged aside from his noticeably dilated pupils, his face still stern with concentration.

With a loud pop, you finally pulled away, quickly using your knuckles to wipe away the strand of saliva that followed. Swiftly pulling his pants back up, you shuffled from under the desk and over to the door. That would be enough for now. After all, you didn't actually want to get caught.

You could feel him watching you as you stood up and quietly opened the door. How upset he was that you didn't finish could be felt from where you stood, but you knew he'd get you back later. He always did. It didn't matter if you just ate his food or if you pulled a small prank, he always got you back, and this time you could say you looked forward to it.

---

The door flew open with a loud bang, you jumping with surprise at the sound, nearly dropping your phone in the process. Your head lifted to meet the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway, his hair messy as he loomed over you. "What was that about?" He questioned, his eyes darting to take in your form.

"What was what about?"

"You know what."

You felt your cheeks warm but decided to continue pretending you didn't have a clue what he meant. "No, Jungkook, I don't know what."

His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him, a soft click sounding as he slowly locked it. You watched quietly, biting your lip as you knew what would happen next. He wasn't usually this quiet.

"Thankfully, I was able to continue normally without much issue." He plopped on the bed next to you, the weight of his larger form causing the mattress to sink under him. The force was almost enough to cause you to slide along with it.

"But you must think I'm a fool if you think you'll get away with sneaking under the desk like that."

By then, he had leaned close, his voice low as he spoke. His tattoos could be seen poking from under the dropped neck of his shirt, your eyes slipping down the closer he leaned. You flopped forward, your gaze meeting his as your hands came to rest on top of his own. "And what are you gonna do about it?" You teased. This wouldn't at all be your first time with each other, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"You're not even ready. I could hear you taking care of it yourself before you came up; you're not as quiet as you think."

His hand lifted quietly, curling under your chin as he held your head still. "Alright, smartie, what're you gonna do about that?"

"You're usually the horndog in this situation. What am I gonna do about it?"

You were suddenly shoved against the bed below, the thick blanket warm under your body. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, his hair draping around his face as he leaned over you. "You'll have to wait to find out, huh?"

"Damn, you must really be upset." You teased without even a second of hesitation. "Man, I really wonder what you'll do. Oh, how long must I wait? Forever? Years; Centuries of waiting just to punished in the end! Just end me, as waiting is its own punishment." You whined dramatically under him, your arms lifting as your hand sprawled against your forehead, your eyes closing as your head flopped back in exasperation against the mattress below.

Jungkook laughed. "No, you won't have to wait very long. You know I wouldn't do that to you." He grinned, his teeth bright and shiny behind his lips. "Remember when we were younger, and I still lived with my parents, and you came over to study?" He asked, his noticeably strong hands trailing over your body, their attention quickly focused on your chest. You opened your mouth to speak, only to get interrupted as he continued.

"We waited until they left to run some errands, and we decided to try and be super quick." He paused to laugh to himself, you barely listening as you bit your lip, your nipples beginning to poke through the fabric his hands continued to glide over. "We started getting way too loud near the end and almost got caught because we didn't hear them pull in. The only reason we were able to clean up and everything was because you happened to finish before they walked in and could hear what we were doing. Man, what an adrenaline rush that one minute was as we scrambled around listening to them slowly come up the stairs."

By then, you were moaning under him, the fabric rough against your extremely sensitive chest. His strong fingers continued running along, teasing the hardened nubs as he moved on with another story, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. His hands snuck under your shirt, his hands warm as he grabbed as much of your breasts in his large hands as he could. "Sorry, I was talking." He apologized, taking the moment before you responded to swiftly yank your shirt over your head.

In your moment of distraction, you had become so hot and bothered that you hadn’t even noticed how long he had been rambling. You could hardly hear his reminiscing over your increasingly more desperate moans. The feeling of the cold air hitting your already erect nipples made you squirm slightly, you only coming back to reality to a soft warmth on your neck. Your hands lifted, gripping with white knuckles tightly onto his thick hoodie.

You lowered your gaze, the sight of his face resting on your chest greeting you. His hair messily covered his eyes, the deep brown underneath shining in the light of your bedroom. His lips were pressed softly together into a pout, his tattooed arms lifted to lay across your shoulders, wrapping under your head. “You’re not paying attention!” He whined, continuing to pout as he shuffled to lean over you, the mattress squeaking ever so slightly as his knees rested on the bed.

He paused to pull the thick fabric free from his body, letting it thump to the ground as he leaned over you once again, the thick ink on his arms dancing as his muscles flexed in the process. Your eyes widened as his face approached yours, your noses quickly touching, the pout still present. “You didn’t hear my story.” He whined again, softer this time, the shine still present in his wide eyes despite the shadow he was casting over you. “You weren’t even listening.”

“Honey, you were rambling.” You responded, hoping he couldn’t feel your racing heart. He flopped down, his hips straddling your own as he sat up, his strong arms causing the bed to sink in as he continued to lean over you, your thighs tingling at the slight bounce that followed as he grew comfortable on your hips.

“I was telling a story.”

He lowered himself, his lips coming into contact with your own, your hands lifting to grab on the thin white t-shirt that remained. His teeth ran softly over your lips as he pulled away, his hands once again moving to slide under your head. Your thighs burned and tingled with each movement he made.

You were beginning to sweat as you continued gripping him tightly, your hips wiggling to wrap your legs around him. His lips once again moved into a pout, the shine is his eyes disappearing as his head came to rest on your chest once again. He definitely felt you move.

His legs slid around you, his knees moving under your hips to lift them up, pressing his now noticeably tight sweatpants against your shorts. He once again lowered to kiss you, more gentle this time as his hands lowered to remove his sweat pants, leaving nothing between you but your shorts- which already barely covered anything. Your own hands lowered, grabbing onto the hard length poking between your legs, pumping slowly as he sighed into the kiss. Your shoulders ached as his hands pressed against your shoulders, pressing you into the mattress. You sped up your wrist movements, listening as he groaned into the continued kiss.

Suddenly, his hands shot down, levering your legs open and lifting his hips to practically rip your shorts free of your body as he finally broke the kiss. His legs slipped off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud, swiftly yanking you close to the edge. His fully flexed arms caged you in, his lips coming into contact with your exposed neck, his breathing soft and warm against your skin.

“Roll over.” He huffed, moving to kiss along your chest and shoulders. His face was now a soft pink, lifting to watch you intently as you rolled onto your stomach, letting out a noise of surprise as you were yanked yet further off of the bed, your feet now touching the floor. Kisses once again returned to your neck, an occasional moment of cold causing you to shiver with delight as his tongue traced over your warm skin with each mark he left behind. Your still erect nipples dragged softly over the sheets under you, the cool mixture of the sheets and his tongue piercing causing you to moan loudly under him.

Your face slammed softly against the mattress below, his strong arms pressing against your shoulders to hold you in place, your hips lifting in the process. Of all the times you’ve done this, he wasn’t usually this rough, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exciting.

“Fu-” You moaned, burying your face in the mattress at the stretch that followed. “-ck.” Your hands gripped onto the sheets, the feeling of his teeth and tongue reaching every inch of your neck making you whimper. He had always been taller, but it wasn’t until now that you realized just how much stronger- and bigger than you he was. You could hardly move with the grip he had on your shoulders, your head the only thing able to move freely. He had you where he wanted you, and it’d probably be a while before he’d free you.

Each thrust ruined your hopes of being quiet, drool beginning to fall from your lips as he continued- each thrust more intense than the last. Your eyes were soon rolled back, your mouth open as saliva dripped from your parted lips, the sharp tugs to your hair adding to the overall ache. Your legs, hips and shoulders were growing more pained with each lewd slam into you, each second bringing you closer to the edge. You were silent, the ache taking your breath away, a loud gasp escaping as he freed your shoulders, yanking you upright by your hair.

His arms wrapped under your chest, freeing you from the bed entirely as he held you in place, your arms contorting behind you to hold onto his now moist t-shirt. You were trembling, your chest burning as you gasped for air. “Jungkook...” You managed, your voice hoarse as your head flopped backwards against his muscular shoulders. You could feel the mess you were already making in your excitement, awaiting the finish you were mere seconds away from, only to groan as you felt him stop, your chest bouncing as he adjusted you.

“No...” You whined in complaint, taking the time to catch your breath only to catch yourself moaning with each exhale. You continued shaking as he kissed along the back of your shoulders. “Don’t stop...” You continued, wiggling your legs slightly to get him to continue. He groaned with your wiggles, grabbing your thighs to keep you in place. “Stop moving.” His voice was soft and gentle, your head rolling around on his shoulder as he placed another kiss on your aching neck.

“You’re so pretty.” He complimented, letting you fall forward with your hands hitting the mattress, his arms firmly gripping your thighs to stop your hips from moving from their position. The little eyeliner you had on had started to run, your hands gripping the sheets in anticipation as you wondered what about you with messy makeup was pretty.

You cried out, your voice still hoarse as the edge approached faster than before. After a minute you were trembling under him again, the ache returning as you tipped closer and closer to the edge. You were reduced to a shaking, squealing, moaning mess in a little over a minute, your legs struggling to hold onto him as they shook.

Your face once again slammed into the mattress, a loud groan felt against your back as his hips sputtered slightly, his large hands grabbing onto your hair once again as he attempted to keep himself steady as he finally tipped over the edge. His breaths were rough and quick against your back, you too busy attempting to catch your own breath to notice his hands had lowered.

You gasped, pleasure coursing through you once again as his fingers moved with renewed vigor. “Ju-Jungkoo-” You pleaded, struggling to even get his name out as his strong hands made quick work of your clit, you finally reaching your release with a sudden, violent shake. He pulled away, the emptiness that followed allowing you to fully fall against the bed, your legs weak as you attempted to stand. His arms wrapped around you, gently laying you down.

“Too much?” He questioned, taking in your exhausted form, his voice dripping with concern. His eyes widened slightly at the black smeared along your cheeks, pouting as he gently wiped it off, not seeming to notice his still wet fingers. “Too much.” He lowered to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, running his fingers through your messy hair. “Definitely too much.”

---

[A/N: Sorry that this came out so much later than I promised. Hopefully it was worth the wait.]

#bts #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gamer jungkook #jungkook au

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blossomingimagines · 3 years

Text

Of A Broken Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 5,339

Summary: You never thought you would see her again. Never thought you would feel your heart skip a beat because of her emerald green gaze again. Never thought that you would let her back in. You also never thought that you would have to think about planning your brother’s funeral either. (Set after and during (sort of) Infinity War.)

Notes: Everyone requested a second part of Requiem... so I thought I would make one. I hope that you all like it. (Also the reader was under the assumption that Tony had returned. She wasn’t aware that Tony wouldn’t have a way back.)

Tag List: @username23345 // @stephanieromanoff // @ima-gi--na-tion // @chickenhavewisdom // @hi-i-1 (I’m not sure if some of you wanted to be tagged but you mentioned a part two in Requiem... so I thought I would do so just in case.)

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism.

Your gaze was leveled with the sky. Tracing over the sparkling stars and the distant worlds dotted between. Worlds that you would never be able to make out with your naked eye. Even though you knew that they were there all the same.

Was Tony on one of them? Your mind cries out. Tears coming unbidden to your eyes as you tried to quell the incoming sobs. Was he all right? Was he already dead?

The thoughts were familiar to you. Looping constantly within your head like a taunt. Images of your brother’s dead body flashing across your mind. Hollow brown eyes, normally filled with so much life, staring into your own. Never to have the same spark again. To have mischief lurking within their depths as various emotions played through his brilliant mind.

Clenching your hands against the railing you were leaning against, you lower your head as you take in deep breaths. Ever since Tony had disappeared with the ship you had been left in an almost fugue state. Barely being able to interact with anyone. Barely allowing yourself the pleasures of living.

Eating had become a challenge because Tony could potentially not be doing the same. How could you possibly enjoy your meal if Tony was starving? How could you allow yourself the simple pleasures of Earth if Tony was suffering away from it? Away from you.

The thought of Tony truly being gone hadn’t fully set in. You had dealt with this before. Had lived with the knowledge that Tony could be lost to you. Afghanistan had been hell for you and for everyone that loved Tony. You hadn’t given up hope that he would be found. That your big brother, the only family you had left, would be returning to you.

You had less hope now. At least when Tony had disappeared in Afghanistan he had still been on Earth. Now you didn’t know what galaxy he was in… let alone the planet. His absence became more and more obvious the longer it went on. The days slipping past you like water through your fingers. The knowledge that Tony may truly be gone this time crushing you.

It didn’t help that you were surrounded by the people that hurt you the most. The people that you thought were your family but ended up being your biggest heartache. Closing your eyes once more, you crane your neck back. And even if you couldn’t see the stars you knew where you were looking. You had long since memorized the layout of the sky above your terrace in the Compound. It wasn’t the Tower but you didn’t think you could bear to set foot in it. Not without Tony being there to greet you.

You could hear the distant murmur of voices beneath you. No doubt the others trying to figure out what to do. The sound causes yet another stab of pain to lance through your heart. While you wouldn’t wish what had happened on your greatest enemy, you couldn’t understand how they survived when Tony didn’t. How they could be using the things he made for them after everything they had done. Didn’t understand why you had to see them every day and not Tony.

You still remember, with perfect clarity, seeing them again after so long. Remember seeing her again after everything.

You wished that your heart didn’t still react the way it did.

Stepping off of the QuinJet, you pull your jacket tighter against your body. Your eyes taking in the various faces as you went. Desperately searching for something familiar to ground you. You needed something to make sense. You needed to have someone you love be okay.

Spotting a familiar face, you break out into a run. Relief interlacing itself within your shout. “Wombat!”

At your yell, Rhodey whips around and pure relief flashes across his face. His arms are already opening for you as you barrel into him. Burrowing against him as you clung as tightly as you could.

“You’re okay,” you choke out with tears falling from your eyes. “You’re okay.”

Rhodey’s arms tighten around you at your choked statements. The pain he was holding back showcasing itself within the shaking of his arms. By the way, he followed every minute movement of your body as you shifted in his embrace. Finally, after a few moments, you take a small step back. Making sure that you maintained eye contact with him through it all. You needed him in your sights at all times. You don’t know what you would do if he disappeared too.

His pained gaze flits to various points behind you. His throat bobbing up and down as he tried to form his question. “Di-” He clears his throat. “Did Pepper make it?”

You nod. “She’s on her way now.”

Rhodey hums but his gaze still hadn’t returned to yours. Causing your own to narrow as worry started to fill your chest. “Rhodey.” You wait for him to turn back towards you. Even if his gaze wouldn’t stay solely on your own for long. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t offer an answer. Something that only causes your worry to grow that much more. Rhodey had made it his life's work to deliver the hard truths to family. You didn’t want to think of what this meant that he wasn’t able to tell you.

Stepping closer, you place a light hand on his chest. “Rhodey,” you implore gently. “What happened?”

There’s a tense silence until he finally meets your gaze. Tears finally begin to fall from his eyes as a pained sound escapes his mouth. “Sam.”

He didn’t have to say anything else for you to understand. You had already seen so many people you knew crumble before your eyes. Seen innocent bystanders disappear with the breeze as their remaining family watched in shock. The screams for help and the mournful howls of grief following soon after. New York City quickly became a desolate wasteland of what it used to be. The City That Never Slept growing quiet.

Wrapping your arms around Rhodey, you offer him another hug. There were no words that you could say that could take away his pain. No words that would ever make the grief go away. That would ever erase the image of ashen faces crumbling against the wind. Faces of loved ones, of people you didn’t even know, forever seared into your brain.

Raising your head, you meet Rhodey’s gaze once more. A small frown furrowing your brow.

“Where’s Tony?”

“We’ll have to take another jet to scope the area for more survivors. I thi-”

Whatever was going to be said was immediately interrupted by your entrance. Not that you cared for anything he had to say. Your gaze honing in on his baby blue one as you made your way towards him. While he didn’t look the same you could still see the self-righteous asshole underneath. Something that caused your anger to grow even more.

You didn’t notice the other occupants of the room. Didn’t notice the way pained green eyes followed your every move-- even though there was worry interlacing the expression. Didn’t notice anything except for Steven Fucking Rogers.

Even the splitting pain that erupted across your hand as you punched him did little to detract from your anger. All you could feel was your pain. Your grief at what had happened. No amount of physical pain could ever measure up to your emotional trauma.

“You asshole,” you snarl. “This is exactly what Tony was afraid of. This is exactly what he tried to protect the world from.”

Steve didn’t make any move to protect himself from your shoves. His blue gaze turning sad; almost remorseful.

“I know, Y/N.” He turns his head away as shame colors his face. “I know that this is what Tony was afraid of.”

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name like you’re still his friend. Don’t you dare act like what you did didn’t happen.” You scoff as you take a step back from him. Your gaze finally looping the room for the first time. Only briefly pausing over Natasha’s silent form. Hating the relief that flared through your body at the sight of her. An emotion that you were sure crossed your face by the way something shifted in her gaze. By the way, her stance loosened ever-so-slightly. Turning away from her, you meet Steve’s gaze once more. “Tony knew this was going to happen. It’s why he fought so fucking hard for the Accords. Why he fought so hard to keep the team together.”

Anger finally graces Steve’s face at your words. “The Accords were going to treat us as servants, Y/N. There was no way we could sign them.”

An incredulous laugh falls from your lips at your words. “This isn’t the forties, Rogers. You can’t just do whatever the hell you want and expect to get away with it. There have to be limitations on what people with your abilities are allowed to do.” You shake your head as you turn your back on him. Moving towards the door. “Tony was going to fight for your rights. He wasn’t going to let your humanity be stripped from you. But there had to be fail-safes in place to protect the innocent people of Earth.” You shoot him a glance over your shoulder. Withering with its intensity-- with your anger. “Or is one person truly worth more than the millions of lives you destroyed? Or the billions, maybe even trillions, that are now gone because you couldn’t see past your loyalty to him?”

“This isn’t my fault, Y/N.” Steve replies. “This is because of Thanos. He is the one we have to stop.”

A small smile quirks your lips at that. “Still the idealist I see.” You shake your head. “We all made mistakes, Rogers. Could have done things in a different manner. But never forget that you were the one that split the team-up. That you were the one that decided Barnes’s life was worth more than everyone else's.” You chance one more glance towards Steve. Your eyes are sympathetic because you already knew what happened to him. “I’m sorry for your loss. No one deserves to see their loved ones perish like that.”

Even though it’s better than not knowing...

Moving closer towards the door, you place a gentle hand against the wooden surface. Your gaze turning somber as you meet Natasha’s gaze once more. Maintaining eye contact even though you were speaking to the room as a whole. “Maybe the people we should have been protecting the Earth from were you.”

You don’t wait for a response as you’re already gone. The thunderous echo of the door slamming behind you being all that was left of your presence.

You find Thor outside with an anthropomorphic raccoon. Something that barely causes you to pause as you settle down beside the god. Your gaze remains level with the horizon even as you felt Thor’s gaze on your face. His electric blue eyes like a weight against your skin.

His deep rumbling voice soon breaks the silence. “Y/N.”

“Thor.”

A silence settles over the three of you. Your gaze never wavering from the setting sun. The silent fields rolling with the wind. A hollowness exuding from the world that left your stomach churning with nausea.

“Is the Man of Iron, all right?” Thor breaks the silence once more. His deep voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I haven’t seen him.”

At the question, your mouth thins into a line. Finally breaking your gaze with the horizon as you met Thor’s. “Tony isn’t here, Thor.”

The revelation causes Thor to reel back. His shock etching itself across his features. “Friend Stark was dusted?”

You shake your head; trying to ignore the pain that struck your chest at the very thought. “No, Thor. He went after Thanos with Peter.”

The God of Thunder’s brow furrows. “So you do not know if he lives?”

You shake your head once more. “No, Thor. I don’t know if Tony is alive or not. I may never know what has happened to him.”

There’s another moment of silence before another voice speaks up. Your gaze shifting towards the raccoons. Deep brown eyes, that reminded you so much of Tony, stare back at you.

“He’ll be all right. If he’s in space then that means he’s run into my team.” His pointed snout looks back towards the sky with a hint of longing across his face. “They’ll take good care of him.”

At his words, a breath of relief falls from your lips. Your shoulders loosen at the sheer confidence within the raccoon's tone. That is until Thor interjected once more.

“But what if they were dusted too, Rocket?’

There was no answer. Only the silence of the world, a world that would never be the same, settling over the three of you. Your eyes once again returning towards the sky.

All with different levels of longing interlaced within.

Staying in Wakanda was stifling. While it was a beautiful country with astonishing marvels, you couldn’t help but be weighed down by everything. From the silent grief that permeated the air because T’Challa was gone. To the dark looks directed towards the sky whenever an airship flew overhead. Not to mention being surrounded by Rogers and his team.

Pepper’s arrival was like a breath of fresh air. You weren’t sure you were still capable of smiling, with true joy, before she appeared. Her bright blue eyes meet your gaze across the yard. Her own bright smile, with unshed tears filling her gaze, appearing as she rushed towards you. Her slim arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. The familiar floral scent of her perfume calming you.

You hadn’t been around when Pepper had seen Steve again. Hadn’t seen the colossal fallout that had occurred but you had definitely heard about it. Thor had been all too happy to tell you the tale of ‘Lady Potts decimating her star-spangled foe’. Something you were more than eager to hear.

Which is how Pepper had found the two of you. Laughing over Thor’s depiction of events. Her own agitation quickly falling away at your joy. And, while it didn’t last long, you were thankful to Thor for allowing it to appear all the same.

Returning to the United States, to New York City, was like stepping into a nightmare. At least while you were in Wakanda you could pretend that billions of people weren’t dead. That it hadn’t been something that affected half of the universe. Seeing the empty cars on the side of the road. The few people littering the street looking lost. Faces pale and emotionless as they shuffled aimlessly from place to place.

It was a sight that you would never forget. Yet another thing that you were going to have nightmares about.

The Compound wasn’t any better. Echoes of days long passed hitting you with full intensity as you made your way through the silent halls. The laughter that sounded so foreign to your ears now ghosting across your ears on a phantom breeze. Distant chattering that only seemed to fade the closer you got to it. Memories haunted the halls of the Compound. But nothing would ever be worse than the Tower. The place that you and Tony had built together. A great marvel that was forever placed within Manhattan's skyline. Knowing that he wouldn’t be there when you arrived caused you to stay away.

You didn’t think you would be able to handle those memories. Of lazy Sunday afternoons lounging around in pajamas while Pepper was taking various calls. Tony doing his best to make her break away from her no-nonsense CEO facade. Only succeeding once before Pepper shot him a withering look that held no heat behind it. The sound of his laughter bouncing off the hallways as he cheated at Mario Kart. Your own expletives joined in soon after as you were hit, once again, with a shell.

Knowing that the Compound did this to you; even though you rarely visited it. How could you possibly set foot in the Tower? The one place that had made you feel truly at home.

Drinking helped ease the pain. Helped quiet the memories that kept surfacing as you stayed in the Compound. You know that it wouldn’t be what Tony wanted. That he never wanted you to have the problems he had, but as the days passed. As the pain, the grief, continued to grow, you found it harder and harder to resist the amber liquid. Tony wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there to tell you a joke when you were feeling low. He wasn’t there to tell you that he loved you in his own special way.

He wasn’t there.

So you settled for the numbness and the sound of his voice in the distance. Always there in a dark corner but never obtainable.

Anything would be better than not having him with you.

On the second week of your stay in the Compound, the others appeared. The sound of the QuinJet only pulling your gaze towards the yard for a moment before you looked back down. You knew that they would be coming sooner or later. The world needed protectors. And they had just lost their greatest. The people of Earth needed to have someone to look towards.

It was only a matter of time before they called on them.

You didn’t even raise your gaze when you heard them enter. Their voices petering off when they noticed you sitting on one of the many couches with a StarkPad in hand.

“You didn’t think I would just let you stay here by yourselves, did you?”

Your question was only met by silence. You were hoping that they didn’t question you on how you knew. That they didn’t notice the dark shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep. Or the empty decanter on the glass table before you.

Steve was the one to respond. “We didn’t but I wasn’t aware it was going to be you, Y/N.”

Glancing up, you narrow your eyes. “Well, I’m the only Stark left so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, Rogers.”

You don’t wait for a response, suddenly finding it too hard to be in the same room as him, as you stand. Trying to ignore the way the room spun ever-so-slightly at the motion. Easily gathering your bearings as you made your way out of the room.

Trying to ignore the way an emerald green gaze watched you as you left.

You weren’t surprised when she found you-- annoyed maybe but not surprised. Sometimes you hated that she knew you so well. Hated that she could still read you like a children's book.

You didn’t bother to turn towards her as she stepped onto the terrace. Your gaze remains level with the horizon. Hoping, no matter how much it hurt, that you would see something. Anything. A single sign that Tony was coming back to you. That he was alive.

Feeling her warm presence settle beside you should have caused you to tense. Should have caused you to move away at the closeness. It should have caused you to do a lot of things but you don’t. You simply stay rooted to the spot as Natasha leveled her gaze towards the side of your face. Her keen green eyes took in everything that she could see.

You tried not to tense when her eyes flickered down towards your hands. Towards the glass that, by some miracle, hadn’t broken due to your tight grip. The amber liquid glowing softly underneath the moonlight.

She doesn’t say anything for a long while. Simply standing with you underneath the moonlit sky. The only sound passing between you being your breathing.

Until her husky voice finally breaks the silence. “He wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself, Y/N.”

You tense. “And how would you know what Tony wants Natalia?”

You didn’t have to be looking at her to see the wince that you caused. Your own heart feeling heavy at your acidic retort. But, unlike most people, she didn’t shy away from your anger. She didn’t even seem to be fazed by it.

“Because, despite what you may think, I still consider you and Tony my family. I know how much Tony loves you, Y/N. I know how much you love him.” She grows silent for a moment before she continues. Her tone much softer than it was before. “And I know how much I love you.”

Your eyes slip shut at the quiet admission. A painful lurch of your heart telling you what you had been trying to ignore for the last two years. That you love Natasha Romanoff. That you always would… no matter what.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. Finally turning your gaze to meet hers. “You can’t just come back into my life after two years and say those things to me. You can’t just say you love me like it’s going to fix anything.”

Her eyes flash. Turning razor sharp before your eyes as she steps closer. “It could change everything, Y/N.” Emerald green implores you to listen to her. To actually hear and understand what she was trying to say. “I love you, Y/N Stark. You are the love of my life. You are the only love of my life. I hate myself for hurting you. For breaking us apart because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. You are the only woman that has ever made me feel cherished. The only person that has ever made me feel truly loved.”

You shake your head. “You left, Natasha.”

“Because you told me to,” Natasha cries. Her green gaze grew even brighter because of unshed tears. “Do you think I wouldn’t have stayed? That I wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail to keep you? That I wouldn’t have let this whole world burn if it meant I could be with you for one more moment? You told me to leave, Y/N. I had already broken enough that day. I wasn’t going to stay and break your heart even more.”

“And you think this time will be any different?” You ask with an incredulous frown pulling your brow down. “You think that I don’t have nightmares about my parents death? That I don’t see my mother being murdered while my father couldn’t do anything but watch? You think that I’m not haunted every single fucking day that the love of my life kept that from me. That you lied to my face about one of the single most important things in my life.” Moving away, after setting your glass down, you run a hand through your hair. Your mouth thinning into a line. “You don’t think I wanted you to stay too?”

At your admission, Natasha moves towards you. Her gaze desperate as she took your hand in hers. “This time I will, Y/N. I won’t let you go again. Doing so last time almost killed me. I promise that I won’t ever lie to you again.” She shakes her head as she takes another small step closer, her hand resting gently against your cheek. “I promise that I’ll love you the way you should be loved until our last dying breaths.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the touch. It had been too long since you had felt her. Felt the way her fingertips ran across your cheek. The simple elegance that she always exuded being interlaced with her love for you. But you couldn’t forget what had happened. Your heart lurching in your chest as you remember the sting of betrayal once more.

Pulling away from her, you take a few steps back and fold your arms over your chest. You needed to have distance between your bodies. You wouldn’t be able to think clearly if she was near.

“I need time to think, Natasha.” You finally say after a tense stare off. “I need to come to terms with a lot of things in my life.”

Nodding, Natasha takes a small step back. Even though it looked like everything in her body was telling her to move towards you. Her green gaze glowed with a gentle warmth. “I’ll wait for as long as you need, Y/N. I’ll be damned if I lose you again.” Turning away from you, Natasha pauses at the door. Her gaze meets yours once more with a small smile quirking her lips. “And, just so you know, I had nothing before I found this family. Before I found you.”

Then she was gone. Leaving only you and the echoing of her words behind.

Now…

You haven't truly spoken to Natasha since the exchange. She had kept true to her word about waiting for you. Her gaze always finds yours the moment you enter a room she was in. Always making it clear that you could approach her whenever you wished to. Though she never forced her presence onto you. Maintaining a respectable distance from you at all times. Not far enough for you to not know she was there but not close enough for you to feel crowded.

You had tried to come up with ways why you couldn’t let her back in. Her betrayal being the main factor but even you knew that it wasn’t valid any longer. Even Tony had told you to look past it. That Natasha was so head over heels for you that her reasons had been honorable. Severely misguided, maybe, but honorable.

Oh, Tony, if you were here I wouldn’t feel so lost. You would just tell me what to do. Give me your patented smirk and berate me about my head being up my ass. Lowering your gaze, you run a frazzled hand through your hair. If I get one sign that you’re alright I’ll give her one more chance. I’ll make it work because I know that this is what the universe wants. That you returning to me is a sign that I’m supposed to be with Natasha.

At your eternal declaration, you glance towards the sky. Hope fills your chest as you observe the moonlit sky. Only to quickly be crushed as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Your heart breaks even more in your chest at getting your hopes up.

Stepping back from the railing, you decide that it would be best if you headed in. Maybe drown your sorrows with a few glasses of whiskey before turning in for the night. Pressing your hand against the smooth glass of the door, you have to squint at the sudden light from behind you. Your eyes barely being able to focus through the brilliant blaze. Glancing behind you, your eyes widen at the sight of a spaceship being placed down onto the ground. Your breath catching in your throat as you leapt into action.

You didn’t even register your mad dash through the Compound. Didn’t notice the confused looks or the shouts of your name. Didn’t register the cold grass against your bare feet as you rushed across the lawn. All you could see was the spaceship.

All you could see was the hatch opening and two figures exiting.

All you could see was the exhausted face of your older brother. His dark brown eyes meet yours through the darkness. Relief flooding his expression as he hobbled towards you. Disconnecting from the blue arm that was keeping him steady.

All you could register was the feeling of having him in your arms again. Your nose pressing into his neck as you clung to him. Soft sobs rip from your throat as his calloused hands gently run through your hair.

“You’re alive.”

It was like a mantra that you brokenly repeated over and over again. Each time making it even more real that Tony was actually there with you. That he wasn’t gone. That you could still see, touch, and hear him.

His answering response never failed to bring more tears cascading down your cheeks. “I’m here.”

You could hear the others as they approached you. By the tensing of Tony in your arms you know that Rogers was at the front. Pulling back, you touch Tony’s face. A soft sob falling from your lips at how emaciated he looked.

Offering him a watery smile, your thumb gently rubbing against his cheek. “We’ll have to get some food for you. I don’t think the space diet suits you, Tones.”

He offers you a small smile in return. The familiar spark reigniting in his gaze before fading away. His next words came out in a dull whisper. “I lost the kid.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your own shock filled you as the devastation in Tony’s eyes became apparent. You had known for quite some time that Tony thought of Peter like a son. That Tony would do anything to keep him safe. You viewed Peter as a little brother you always wanted. A warm presence that filled your life with meaning once more. His childish antics brightening your day and bringing a smile to your face. Knowing that he was gone? That you would never hear his horrible jokes again? Or his anxious rambles? It broke your heart. For both losing Peter and for Tony having to witness it.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” You shake your head. “He was a good kid.”

“Yeah he was.”

Opening your mouth, you’re about to respond but a shrill cry breaks through. “Tony!”

Turning, you could see Pepper rushing towards you both. Her blue gaze locked with Tony as she ran. Without thinking twice you move aside as Pepper takes your spot. Moving away to give her and Tony some privacy. Or however much one could get in an open lawn.

Not realizing how close you were to the others, you flinch at the sudden presence at your side. Your gaze meeting Natasha’s. Her green gaze filled with warmth and happiness. A small smile quirking her lips as she observes the scene before her. Pepper’s strong hold on Tony not wavering in the slightest even as Rhodey appeared too. Both taking their turns in showering the genius with hugs.

Shifting, your hand gently brushes the back of Natasha’s. Her eyes shifted towards yours for a moment before returning front and center. Biting your lip, you deliberate on what to do. As Natasha had clearly just given you the sign that the ball was in your court. That however you reacted to this situation would be all up to you.

You could step away. Pretend like nothing had happened. That it had been a simple accident and nothing more.

Or you could take her hand and finally accept what your heart was screaming at you. What it had been trying to tell your stubborn mind for the last two years. That Natasha Romanoff was the love of your life and you were never going to find anyone like her. That despite all this tragedy you could learn how to be happy again because she was by your side.

I did promise the universe, you muse with amusement dancing across your mind. And I don’t like breaking promises.

So, without breaking eye contact with the scene in front of you, you take Natasha’s hand. Allowing a small smile to quirk your lips at the way she immediately interlaced her fingers with yours. Noticing the warm smile that was now curling her lips through your peripheral.

Squeezing her hand, your heart leapt in your chest at the answering squeeze in response. Your body singing with happiness at having Natasha returned to you.

Despite everything, despite all the hardships you would now have to face, you would be able to do so.

As long as you had Natasha by your side you could get through anything.

And nothing would ever change that.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #avengers #infinity war #of a broken heart #avengers x reader #reader insert

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

Sacrificial Bride Part 1//Twisted Wonderland X Reader//

Alright well, that's enough writing for the next few days if you excuse me I'm going to go sulk in my corner. Huge thanks to @softyswork who’s story about reader being sent to Malleus as a bride inspired this series. Also, I REALLY want to make some sort of modern-day Frankenstein it would be an amazing scientific breakthrough! You'll understand what I mean when you get to Idia's part lol.

💚🐉Malleus Draconia🐉💚

It was a common rumor around your village that ever since the death of the sleeping princess your settlement had never been the same. For you, this was nothing more than a fairy tale meant to spark a scrap of hope in the hearts of naive, suffering children who were still too young to fully understand why their fathers never returned from their hunting trips or why there was barely anything to eat for dinner.

Every time you heard this dreaded tail, you couldn't help but scuff. For as long as you've been alive your town had been in utter disarray and chaos. Monsters from the woods -what the town's folk called "fae"- attacked the village daily. Stealing jewels, destroying homes, sometimes even swallowing children or sucking the blood of the dormant. There was also the looming threat of the green flames. Blazing emerald fires who couldn't be subdued by neither water nor dirt. They advanced further into the territory of the village by each full cycle of the moon. Leaving behind in their trail, thick impenetrable thorn bushes that had taken the homes of many and the lives of many more.

Awful, dreaded creatures those fae where...

But alas you did not yet know just how cruel they could be.

On another periodic morning, your younger sister jolted you awake, dragging you to the town center before you got a chance to change out of your nightgown.

In the center of the square was short man..no...not a man you noticed his pointed drawn back ears. "Fae" you gasped under your breath. But unlike the monstrous fairies that ravished your town taking on the appearances of trees and woodland creatures, this one resembled a boy of 15. The young-looking male began to speak, his voice was clear like crystals, and to his tone bats began to flock overhead. "Truly dreadful, these fairy folk are" your sister uttered in terror as she buried her face in your side.

"Heed my words, mortals. The young prince of thorns has decided to take a wife. By the setting of the sun a full day from today, two of his guards will come to collect your offering. If you chose to disregard this Wa-- friendly advice, then what is left of your town will be decimated before the end of summer. Your children eaten, wives imprisoned and husbands killed!" An unsteady hush rippled through the crowd. Some hothead youths began to throw rocks at the stranger only for the bats hovering above to shield him from the stones. Mothers hugged their children close begging for the man to "just leave".

"If" the man's voice rose once more like a cadaver emerging from the grave " my young master is pleased with your sacrifice than we shall reward you! Bring good health and prosperity to your otherwise sick and decaying village." His last words melted into the open air before he vanished in a cloud of squealing bats and ebony smoke.

The town's folk erupted in screeches, cursing at their deities while simultaneously praying to any god that would listen.

"Help us!"

"save us!"

"Don't let them take our daughters!"

The screams escalated to the point where you had to cover your ears with your shaking hands. Your eyes scanning each of the villager's faces, a pathetic lot they were, you thought to yourself. Scared by the words of a young magician. In a flash, your heart sped up, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as you marched to the center square where the boy had been mere moments ago. You stood tall, cupping your hands over your mouth.

"Listen well you disquiet, mindless lot!"

All eyes turned to you. Some holding looks of confusion, whilst others harbored glances of hope.

"This fae is lying! No way will they be satisfied with just one measly girl! No matter who we sacrifice to their so-called master, they'll still come after us! They'll still destroy our village! Let's not be stupid! Let's find a way to barricade the city instead of arguing over who to sacrifice!"

For an endless second all was quite. It was like the world had stopped turning, frozen in its place in the universe trying to decide what to do.

Then it happened,

Chants reverberating through the air

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!"........................

WHAT!

NO!

DID THOSE MORONS NOT LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD YOU SAID!

The crowd started advancing. Eyes locked on your figure like those of a leopard on its prey. Their mouths were all a gap, chanting the words "sacrifice" over and over again. From behind the mob, your eyes locked with your sister's. You could practically feel the despair rolling off her figure as she covered her eyes and fell to her knees, her whole body rattling with a sort of distant rage...

A full day....it's funny how time passes all so quickly no matter what you do. Day in and day out nothing changes, pain is still pain, laughter is still laughter. Time just keeps slipping from between your fingers like sand. Even in the direst of times, Time doesn't show mercy, never once does it cease. It just ticks and ticks away until the inevitable moment arrives.

Your sister and aunt -the only two relatives that you hadn't lost to the fae- were in charge of preparing you for your so-called "wedding". Since your town was poor and isolated from other civilizations there wasn't much they could do to enhance your beauty. Smashing some berries to add color to your lips -and fervently ravishing the remains- using some coal to add shade behind your eyes, as well as around them and patting the dust of rose petals against your cheek. By the end, you hardly recognized the person staring back from the mirror. Sure the adjustments were minor but this was the most stunning you'd ever looked. "Is it almost time" your voice quivered, failing to hide the tears that began to fall. "Please don't cry sweetheart, we don't have any more coal to fix your eyes with." Your aunt's tone was monotone almost bordering on heartless. You couldn't really blame her, she'd gotten so used to having her loved ones plucked from her. One more would be no different. Sniffing as to keep the tears at bay, you nodded slowly. Your glossy eyes locked with your aunt's you could see the same fear and exhaustion in her fading irises as the night her son was slaughtered in front of her.

"Just a few reminders" your sister's voice was cheery like the chirping of early morning birds, but her face mimicked that of a kicked puppies. "Remember when the prince...fae...when he..you know...Oh, Lord please tell me he won't" She was shivering again. Her face twisted in horror. You knew what she was thinking, she was imagining you laying in the bed of that...that thing. She was imagining him entering you, kissing up and down your neck. Leaving patches of red skin over smooth flesh, bruises wherever his clawed hands touched you. She was imagining what was no doubt going to happen to you tonight...

the mere thought made bile rise to your throat.

"Darling, just keep saying how much you like it. It's all any man wants to hear." again your aunt or rather her lackluster form of speech was the rope binding you to your sanity.

"Do fae even have...those parts like humans do?" Your sister asked, only to be met with a glare from your aunt. "Stop wasting time on pointless questions! Hurry up and see if this dress fits your sister."

Sure enough, as you were escorted to where the thorn bushes met the village, two men, one standing tall and proud, whilst the other looked like he may topple over from fatigue at any moment, were awaiting you.

The green-haired man let out a haughty laugh, his blazing eyes scanning you from head to toe. "She's hardly worthy of the young master!" His dreadful voice was like the booming of thunder clouds. "It doesn't matter, Malleus-sama needs to be wedded off quickly so he can produce an heir. None of us are getting any younger by standing here debating the "worthiness" of yet another measly human" the silver-haired male's voice was the exact opposite of his comrades, his voice was soft and breathy like light drizzle after a storm.

The green-haired man looked ready to argue once more, but before he could open his mouth, his violet-eyed counterpart waved something thin in the air casing a pathway to open between the hedges.

It was dark between the brambles. The air was thick, stuffy, every breath was a struggle. Although it seemed neither of your traveling buddies minded the discomfort. Did fae even need air to survive?

After what could have been no less than a couple of hours, your small group made it to a large clearing where only a few rays of the sun leaked through the thick smoky clouds. Miss matched flowers in shades of grey littered the rocky barren ground. Maybe at some point, this place had been beautiful, stunning even...but whenever that time had been it was long gone now.

As you ventured farther into this monochrome land of loss and sorrow, the three of you approached a castle. It towered over everything else, grim in all its glory. "Young master Malleus is awaiting you inside..." The green-haired male's voice trailed off as his speech was interrupted by the deafening creaking of the doors parting open. Without another word the two men dragged you inside, pushing you through spiral staircases and long bleak passageways. Until you arrived at a lavish-looking room, a large throne sitting smugly in the front of the room. It's black, spiked appearance was enough to make you gasp in horror, you didn't desire to meet the monster that perched atop that throne. "Don't be so afraid." the silver-haired man whispers, his head is almost resting on your shoulder. "Malleus-sama is kind and fair. He is sure to love you better than any human ever could." you catch a hint of nostalgic sadness in the last part, like a long lost part of the lavender eyed boy's past caught in his throat like a glass shard.

Trumpets roared through the room blaring as two men, one short and fickle whilst the other tall and brooding walked in. "Malleus~" The short one sang as they both stopped in front of you "Say hello to your lovely new wife." the tall man's emerald eyes landed on you. His lips parted in a threatening smile...or maybe it was a smirk? He didn't seem to be too good at displaying emotions. Slowly he descended onto one knee, slipping your hand into his and kissing the top lightly.

"Hello, my darling little wife."

🧡🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁🧡

The After Glow Savanna was an absolute hell to be born in if your family did not belong to some royal inner court class. The endless days spent scavenging for scraps of food, walking miles for a simple glass of water, had become a sort of broken, habit beaten into the residents of the smaller less fortunate districts.

Eventually, you too would follow in your parent's footsteps, working odd jobs around the neighborhood, getting married to some guy, having kids, and giving them the same dreary life your parents had given you. It was simple -miserable- but simple never the less. In an odd way, you found a sort of comfort in how everything was set in stone. How you'd suffer through a few years then die of starvation or some disease in your husband's arms.

But little did you know that the only comfort you had in your horrible life was also going to be swiped from you.

When Ruggie, a dear childhood friend of yours returned from his prestigious school for the winter holidays you were overjoyed! A week with your best friend was the greatest gift you could ask for! But that excitement soon dulled when he announced to the neighborhood what the royal family had planned for the underdeveloped parts of the country.

"They want to demolish the homes and build parks and shopping strips instead"

The people of your tiny community gasped, shock and hopelessness mixing over their dirty, worn out faces. Some older siblings shielded the ears of their younger kin, some mothers hugged their children closer to their chests. "They can't do that to us!" Your voice was like a beacon through the thick fog of confusion. "We can't let them!" You turned to Ruggie who was seated next to you. His blue-grey eyes held a foreign sadness that you had never seen before. He was hiding something...something so grim that he was forced to shove it into the depths of his soul, locking it up and throwing away the key.

"There is a way..."

For such a hopeful phrase, Ruggie's tone harbored no happiness. You could practically see the tears that were clouding his beautiful eyes. "Tell us" someone from the crowd demanded, others soon joined in with their own chants. For a long moment, Ruggie said nothing, the shouts of despair falling on deaf ears.

"If.." his voice trailed off, as his gaze grew distant.

"If someone from the neighborhood were to marry the second prince..." Gasps of fear filled the air. Even the mere mention of the second prince's name was enough to send chills down people's spins.

"Then they could, as the newly appointed princess, convince the royal family and counsel to scrap this monstrous plan." No one uttered another word. No one was brave enough to face the man who could destroy anything with a simple touch.

But the sake of these people, people who had nothing but their families and a muddy roof over their head was on the line.

Do something, a tiny voice in your head screamed, save them, it begged. You shifted your head so to get a glimpse of Ruggie's face. "I-" you began but were cut off before you could even finish.

"I know you would say that."

His voice broke over every syllable. He knew you would give up your depressing nostalgia for the sake of others. Life in the castle would be hell, being married to that monster would be something worst than the dwellings of the devil.

It was a speedy arrangement, so fast that your head didn't have time to process anything. In the end, it almost seemed like the royal family was desperate to find a spouse for their youngest son.

Just marry him! Was what all the absentee looks told you.

Early that morning, Ruggie had dragged you to the castle, all tears, and grumbles. The palace guards let him in with no restrain, it almost felt like he'd been here before. Your childhood friend led you to a room in the further corner of a grand hall. He told you to stay outside as he went in to chat with the prince. Moments later the newly appointed king and queen came to usher you into a privet room and discuss the marriage. Not an hour later your fate had been sealed, you'd be married off to prince Leona tomorrow at sunrise. For "historical purposes" your neighborhood would be preserved and even taken care of. 'Historical purposes' you thought 'more the like a bribe to get you to marry this beast.

that night you were dragged this way and that by the queen herself. Taken for fitting after fitting. Trying on hundreds of wedding dresses who's prices could feed every mouth in your neighborhood for months! "Leona isn't very classy" the queen sighed in disappear. "He would probably prefer you to be in something laxer, shorter if you will" the tailors ran around trying to find something that would fit her vague description, as you stood facing her royal highness.

"What's he like?" you asked soullessly

"Spoiled, although not as heartless as the rumors make him out to be" She didn't seem to like giving straight answers

"will he harm me? It was an honest question, although the lack of thinking it took before the queen replied made your heart skipped a beat.

"Quite possibly, he is rather...aggressive at times. Just don't let his degrading comments get to you. He's not used to being around people"

The more she described the second-born prince the more it seemed she was actually speaking of some feral dog that had raised in isolation.

Oh, how doomed you were.

The wedding was even faster than the preparation. Ruggie walked you down an aisle of flowers, walking over the petals, killing them once and for all, ending their pointless existence. You stood by your self at the altar awaiting your husband to be. It took a rather long time before the doors were flung open and the king waltzed in carrying his struggling brother under his arm. "No need to worry, Leona was taking one of his catnaps again and forgot about today's events" the king announced, in what could only be described as a mock lively tone.

How on earth does someone forget their wedding! This prince really wasn't a typical human...heck you where beginning to think that the feral dog would have made a better groom.

snap, snap

A few magazine pictures here, a couple of family photos there...

Everything was so bright and loud...

right before you and the second prince were thrown into the darkness of his room. In the obscurity, you could ONLY make out the glowing of his emerald eyes.

You could feel him shifting closer, all the while you took shaking steps backwards. " I thought wives were supposed to leap into the arms of their husbands? Tell me little herbivore do I frighten you?"

Your voice refused to leave your throat, too afraid to come into contact with the prince.

"What's the matter? Did they not teach you to speak in on the streets you grew up on. Poor thing~"

Leona pounced across the room, tackling you to the ground. His sheer weight pinning you to the carpeted floor. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the silence.

How careless these royal were was the only intelligible thought that came to your frenzied brain.

Goosebumps littered your skin as Leona's claws cut into your flesh. His lips kissed over each wound as he made his way up to your cherry painted lips.

"You look so cute, you know, like a little mouse about to get devoured by a starving lion."

💙💀Idia Shroud💀💙

The rhythm of his heartbeat was slowing down, it felt like the patter of ants atop one's flesh. He was dying...this was an irreversible fact. The love of your life was dying and there was nothing you could do but sit idly by and watch the life fade from his pale bruised face. Your thumb ran over his knuckles in robotic-like strokes. Hours had passed, you'd shed all the tears that you had. He was gone...that was all there was to it.

For a hopeless second, you flicked your eyes to the open window on the opposite side of the room, There was never any sun on the island of lamination but regardless today seemed brighter than any other day. "How cruel" you muttered in a deadpan voice. Outside something...or better yet...someone was running through the fields, chasing what looked like a butterfly. The young child had blazing blue hair a symbol of the Shroud family...

THE SHROUD FAMILY

Your breath hitch in your lungs, your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. They could help you though hopefully. There family where distant relatives of the god of the underworld and a few years back -to your regulation- the hair of the family had been able to semi revive his younger brother. If he was able to bring back a child from the dead than surly they would have no problem returning your lost lover to you.

Your eyes waltz over his dormant face one last time before you got up and ran for the door.

"This is all for you my love, all of this is for you"

The Shroud family mansion was located at the top of one of the many hills that plagued the island. It was a dark grisly building that resembled the castles from old tales, where monsters laid dormant. Rumors spiraled around the rural civilization, some saying that the family was cursed by the lord of the dead, whilst others claimed that the shroud family were the long lost descendants of the lord of the dead and the maiden of spring. The curse had been placed on the family by the temperamental mother of the maiden of spring, anathematizing the family to be plagued with death and disappear for the rest of eternity.

Regardless of what their misfortune was, they may very well be the last people on earth who could help you. Surely if the family had brought back their youngest than they could bring back your lover!

You knuckles tapped furiously at the old metal doors of the frightful residence. The rhythm was unkept, unsteady, it's mere sound radiated urgency.

"PLEASE HELP ME"

Your throat burned as you screamed out those three lousy words.

After what felt like forever, the doors cracked open, revealing a tall man obscured by the shadows. Any light that touched the interior of the house seemed to die acidity, making peering inside nearly impossible.

"What business do you have?" The man's voice was croaky as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in years. For a split second, you closed your eyes, trying to organize the thoughts in your head. "My...my...h-hus...lover, my lover is d-dead...o-or rather he is dying....probably fully gone by now..." despite the mess of stuttered letters and mixed-up words, the man seemed to understand your situation. With a long sigh, he pulled you into the somber house.

Fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist he pulled you around, guiding you through the darkness until you reached a large room lit only by the mysterious blue flames of the fireplace. Sitting by the warmth was a...well it was hard to tell, her face -despite it displaying every bone of her visage coupled with dark sunken eyes- resembled that of a woman no older than thirty, whilst her body resembled a decaying skeleton. What was she? Was she the lady of the residence or yet another monster this bizarre family had created.

"My, love" the man began to speak, his voice was somehow cleared like it had been given some sort of jolt. "This young lady needs Idia's help, she wants to bring back her lover from the dead."

The woman said nothing, her eyes staring ahead, burning a hole in the wall right by your head. "What will she give him in return" despite her "deteriorating" appearance her voice was like soft silk on one's skin, melodious and fair.

"Why herself!" This time the man's voice boomed across the house, echoing through the hallways and falling on you like a cave in.

"M-myself! What the hell do you mean!"

"It sounds fair" the women agreed "my darling sweet son saves your lover and instead you agree to marry him! Oh how wonderful, just like in the tales about grandfather Hades!"

She seemed too thrilled about this, her snow-white eyes gleaming with a sort of delusional passion.

"Idia! Idia honey! Come down your father has a surprise for you!"

The hollow sound of footsteps soon filled the quiet air. Followed by another soft blue glow.

Was there no normal fire in this house?

But it wasn't fire, not exactly. When your eyes fell on the heir of the Shroud family, you suddenly felt a nervous wave crash over you. There was something -even more- unsettling about him, he looked nothing like his charming little brother. For one his hair wasn't...well hair! Sure you'd expect a small batch of blazes heading upwards but this was something else entirely! It resembled a large bonfire that floated towards the ground, rouge sparks falling in every which direction, sizzling and then dying abandoned on the floor. And his eyes, Miosis like pupils floating around in a pool of lemon yellow.

But all the physical appearances aside, the most unsettling thing about him was the gloomy aura that leaked off him, suffocating anyone in his presence. Nervously you took a step back only to be yanked forward again by the taller man.

"Idia baby!" His mother ran over to him, cradling his hands in hers "This cute young lady has agreed to marry you if you can save her lover, just like in that old tale about your great grandfather! Oh, my this is all so romantic!"

It seemed like no one here understood that you were in love WITH SOMEONE ELSE! Or maybe they did and chose to disregard it. Instead, using the bits they retained as kindling to feed their raw excitement. You shifted your gaze back to Idia's face. To your utter terror, he was...smiling? Could that...look...even be called a smile? It seemed more like the way a shark would bare its teeth at a defenseless seal! Oh, gods please don't let this...thing...be your future husband!

"It should be easy enough," His golden gaze landed on you "W-when did...did he die?" it took a few moments before you register that he was talking to you or technically asking you something. "A...A few..." your voice cracked, tears streaming down your eyes.

"So recently...okay that shouldn't be a p-problem." He turned on his heels and walked back into the seclusion of the halls "I'll grab some things and meet you by the front door"

A few things ended up being a pile of wires and bolts. Something that looked like a light blue ball of energy and so many tools whose names seemed to go over your head.

Idia was kneeling by your lover's bed, pulling apart the skin and fusing metal in its place. Your darling's chest was cracked open, his ribs poking out towards the sky as if praying for life from the lord of the sky. Every once in awhile Idia would pull out a long tool with smoke floating from the top. He'd lay it on an organ watching as the tissue fiber sizzled away under the heat. He would then tie wires and small circular batteries inside.

"His heart stopped working, I'm guessing from some sort of shock"

You just hummed in response, too caught up in how the man you loved was beginning to look like a modern-day Frankenstein rather than a human being.

The sun had long since faded when Idia finally got up from his spot. His bones cracked and screeched at the sudden change, his muscles giving out halfway leaving him to rely on the wall for support to stand. Your lover's chest had been sewn back and covered with a silver piece of metal. His neck was wrapped in the same sort of alloy. His left arm had been cut open so Idia could shove the energy ball inside than cover it, leaving a small enough gap for wires that stretched from his chest to weld into the ball.

"He just needs a boost" Idia murmured that shark-like grin overtaking his pale face once more. From the side table, he plucked up to jumper cables and clipped them on either side of his neck. Jolts and crackles filled the room and sparks flew in every direction, the once-dead body shuffled around, arms and legs moving at random. You shrieked and duck behind Idia.

Only then did he pry the clips from his neck.

Nothing

for too long nothing happened... then there was a slight wiggle in one finger, then another. His eyes slowly began to prey open, looking over his surroundings. The moment his confused gaze feel onto you. Idia turned you around to face him, clumsily smashing his blue chapped lips onto yours.

From the corner of his eyes, Idia watched as the other man began to understand what was happening...even if he was just resurrected there was still agony at the sight of his lover kissing another...

Good! That should show him who you belonged to now!

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oneyeartoparty · 3 years

Note

I’ve been reading ur post and I just wanna request the brothers reacting to MC being fully able to fight back and win against belpie but didn’t in fear of hurting him? Probably knowing he would be a strong opponent too sorry if it’s too much😅

Hi! Its not too much at all. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request =D

This contains: Mentions of violence, injury, being attacked, being trapped & death. Also has spoilers for Chapter 16.

Lucifer

Lucifer felt a feeling of dread, something quite rare for him, build up within him when he saw you and a floating Belphie in his demon form wrapped in chains appear before them on the staircase.

He was keenly aware of how much danger Belphie was in, and how he didn’t understand the situation at all. He was too preoccupied with attempting to free himself and hurl obscenities at anyone in range to notice he was close to being crushed.

Not wanting to see his youngest brother meet a grisly demise, he starts trying to calm you down and ensure you won’t harm Belphie.

When Lucifer learns Belphie tried to murder you, he becomes visibly angry. He might not show it outwardly often, but he has grown fond of you during your time in the Devildom, and losing you because he failed to safeguard you, from one of his brothers no less, would’ve incredibly upsetting for him.

Before Diavolo and Barbatos arrive, he’s able to convince you to slightly loosen the chains wrapped around his sibling, something he would secretly be proud of given the circumstances and your ruthlessness when it comes to defending yourself from unruly demons.

Once the truth of the situation is revealed, and everything has calmed down, and in Belphie’s case, been freed, Lucifer takes it upon himself to ensure you’re feeling ok after the incident and ensuring you get any support you need. He realises your happiness is important to him, and he’ll do whatever he can to make sure he can see your smile every day.

Mammon

When you descended the stairs with a little calf on a lead trotting behind you, Mammon was, like his brothers, incredibly confused. Where did you get that calf and how did it even get down into the Devildom in the first place?

It took him a few moments to recognize the cowhide had a pattern identical to the pillow Belphie always carried around. Had you used your magic to turn Belphie into the calf?

Of course, his human would be able to easily do something like this to one of the most powerful demons in existence. How could you not? He knew you were skilled and powerful enough to pull this off. It was hilarious when he thought about it. How frustrated must Belphie to have been turned into a helpless little calf?

But then he realised why you would’ve had to have done something like this. He knew Belphie hated humans, he was certainly capable and willing to kill one. That was the reason you had turned him, wasn’t it?

Mammon has rarely felt as much rage toward one of his brothers as he felt at that moment. Had you not been so skilled at magic, you could’ve been injured, or more likely, killed by Belphie. He was close to launching himself at his defenseless sibling when Diavolo and Barbatos burst in and revealed everything.

From many months after the incident, Mammon would keep a closer eye on you. He wanted to be there to protect you if something like this happened again. He wanted to be the one you could rely on and who could keep you safe.

Leviathan

Leviathan would never admit it, even well after the incident, but the sight of his youngest brother turned into a cardboard cut-out was hysterical to him.

The angry look on his brothers temporarily cardboard face as you tossed him from the top of the stairs and watched him slowly floated down to the floor has always bought him joy even during his saddest times.

He was keenly aware that you wouldn’t have done this unless Belphie has done something to warrant it. Since you were a human, it didn’t take Levi long to surmise that was the case, the idea confirmed by his brother’s cardboard form being in demon form with a rage-filled look on his face.

Levi didn’t blame you at all for doing this. You’d defended yourself and done so in a way that only embarrassed Belphie. He knew you could’ve done far worse, and he was glad for your restraint, though he doubted Belphie realised just how lucky he was.

When Diavolo and Barbatos finally arrived and revealed the truth behind recent events (and along with the brothers, convinced you to turn Belphie back into his regular demonic self) Levi checked on you in his way. He was both upset and overjoyed by the mix of events on that day, so he tried his best to stick close to you and make sure you were safe and happy. He even sent a few compliments your way, which was rare in more public settings.

Levi did punish his younger brother in his way for his stupid actions. Whenever the three of you played together, he’d always do his best to ensure Belphie came last, though he didn’t need to try too hard since he was usually napping 5 minutes into any game.

Satan

Satan wasn’t sure what he was expected when he and his brothers arrived back at the House of Lamentation, the last thing they were expecting was the peace they encountered. Belphie wasn’t known to be destructive, but angry demons did have a habit of smashing things unnecessarily.

When you appeared on the stairs, a book gripped in one hand he was relieved. You were unharmed, though he saw visible annoyance and fear in your expression. He knew then that something had happened, and it wasn’t good.

You walked straight up to Lucifer and handed him the book, saying in no uncertain terms that you weren’t freeing Belphie until you were certain he wouldn’t try killing you again and received a massive and genuine apology from the demon in question.

Dumbfounded, Lucifer opened the book, and Satan quickly moved beside him to get a look. The inside was a children's book, specifically the story of Snow White. The story followed the usual plot, except walking along the pages, looking angry and in his demon form, was Belphie.

He was enraged by his predicament. He was helpless in the pages, able to walk amongst the pictures but unable to change anything. He could move between pages but was unable to escape.

Later in the day, once everything was explained and Belphie was freed (and has given a substantial apology) Satan would congratulate you on easily subduing his youngest brother with ease and acknowledge your abilities.

He also vowed you would never need to use your powers in such a manner again, and he would always be by your side to defend you and keep you safe.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus must admit that the snow globe you had trapped Belphie in was both an ingenious way to contain the enraged demon and a beautifully designed piece he would gladly own if it weren’t a temporary prison.

He has wondered why of all things you were carrying the snow globe when you approached the group of demons. This wondered turned to concern when he saw the annoyed look on your face.

Once you’d explained what happened with Belphie he immediately came to your side and gave you a check over. The fact that this happened at all was atrocious, not to mention it was caused by his own younger brother.

His brothers tried to convince you to release Belphie, but Asmo doesn’t think he should be released just yet. After his actions, he deserves some punishment. He even offers to keep the snow globe in his room. He’ll be a perfect guardian of the object. Plus, he had already planned the perfect setup for some Devilgram photos including the snow globe.

He couldn’t hide his disappointment when Lucifer shot the idea down with a stern glare in his direction.

Once the truth of the situation and the truth of your origins was revealed my Diavolo and Barbatos, and Belphie freed (though Asmo still thought he should’ve been kept in there for a little longer), Asmo spends his time doting on you.

He knew situations like this could stick with someone, and he didn’t want you to feel alone or unprotected (even though he knew you could look after yourself). He also gave Belphie an earful about how stupid he was and warned him to never do that again, or he’d been dealing with both of you.

Beelzebub

Beel wasn’t concerned when you approached them with a sleeping Belphie floating along behind you on a bed of pillows. He was used to seeing his twin napping in strange situations, so this wasn’t different.

This changed when you told the group of demon brothers that Belphie wouldn’t be waking up until you had assurances that he wouldn’t try to murder you like he had just moments before.

Beel’s concern was torn between you and Belphie. Humans were fragile, and even one as powerful as you could be hurt by a demon-like Belphie, so he understood why you defended yourself and weren’t relenting. But Belphie was still his twin, even though he was wrong, he didn't want him trapped in eternal sleep.

He checks on you first, making sure you’re unhurt. He tells you he is immensely hurt by Belphies actions and hopes it doesn’t permanently ruin your relationship with him or ruin the chance of you mending things with Belphie.

After that, while his brothers are checking on you, he looks over Belphie. He is unhurt, but he is deeply asleep, far more so than he usually is. He affectionally moves some of the hair covering Belphie’s face just as Diavolo and Barbatos enter the room and reveal everything.

Once everything settles down, Beel spends his time trying to mend the relationship between you and his twin, and make sure you’re doing well, both mentally and physically. You’re both his family, and he will do whatever he can to make sure you’re both safe and happy.

Belphegor

Belphie thought you were an easy mark when you first met. A gullible, stupid human who he could easily string along to earn both his freedom and destroy the Exchange Program.

It was this arrogance that leads to him ignoring you when you talked about being a powerful magic user. No doubt you were only an expert in sleight of hand party tricks and were simply trying to impress him.

Imagine his surprise when he tried attacking you but found himself trapped in a near-transparent bubble instead.

Even his most vicious and powerful attacks in his demon form were unable to penetrate or dent the sphere now surrounding him and this only served to increase his fury.

He was so focused on trying to escape he didn’t notice you taking him down to the house’s entryway where his brothers were gathered. Their argument below quickly turned into pleading for you not to hurt him and to please let him down gently.

You were adamant though. You wouldn’t hurt him, but you wouldn’t let him down until you knew he’d stop attacking you.

You would later explain to Belphie you weren’t lying and were indeed a powerful magic user. Your abilities were spotted by the Sorcerers’ Society at a young age, and they took you in and taught you all they know.

He’s both impressed by your skills and grateful that he was never close to hurting you. He vows to himself to never again hurt you and to support you forevermore to make up forever thinking of hurting you.

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octania · 4 years

Text

Midnight stalker ( Dabi x Reader NSFW 18+)

Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Stalking, yandere, death (not Dabis nor readers), smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3300

Short description: A lot of scary things lurks in the dark, but when two blue electric eyes stick to you and don't let go, you'll see what the face of a villain who has a very specific way of showing his feelings looks like.

PART 2 - MIDNIGHT HUNTER

_____________________________________________________________

"I have no useless feelings." - That's impossible. He would repeat those words to himself over and over again, but the only thing that’s useless in the end are exactly those words. He does not understand what's going on. And lack of knowledge is one of the first things that makes him angry. At one point, as he was following you as some kind of maniac for the fourth night in a row, hiding behind every wall bathed in darkness, he tried to convince himself that what was happening must be the result of your quirk. Yes, that is the only explanation. You know he's there and you bewitched him to follow you like a sad puppy.

"I am going fucking insane here." He cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyelids. Of course this was not the result of your quirk, you had no idea he was following your every step for days, you lived your most normal life, and despite everything, he saw you using your quirk on a third day of his mission, and it had nothing to do with what he had just claimed.

He noticed you quite by accident. Damn that moment. He was walking down a dilapidated neighborhood in the middle of the night, minding his own business, when he heard a gentle female whisper from the corner of the street. Such a sweet sound was not at all characteristic for the place where he was, in fact, the only thing that could be heard from the corners of these streets was the screaming, swearing or unrestrained moaning of the lady of the night, not a gentle whisper. The devil did not give him peace, he had to see what was happening. When he leaned behind the wall of the building in the dark, all the filth of this place was gone. He had an eye for beautiful women, but none of them made him look at their faces longer than a few seconds before his gaze continued to their enticing curves. You knelt beside a pile of cluttered boxes, touching something small and fragile between them. A puppy. You stroked his soft head, whispering that everything would be fine and that he was safe now.

He became a part of the shadows on the street, he managed to blend smoothly with each one as he followed you for the first time. You carried the puppy on your chest, not even looking back at the potential dangers of the neighborhood you wandered into. But the truth is, there was no real danger, not while Dabi was following you. He wasn't even aware that he would defend you to the last spark of his flame if something went wrong, and he didn't even know you.

You were more than ... interesting to him. Yes, that was the word he decided to use. Everything he saw in life was gray and suddenly he discovered color. He had to see what the difference was, why his interest was growing. Fast enough, you got to your house. He stored the place, the street number, and the exterior of the house in his mental map, not even knowing that the place would become his obsession.

That night he slept worse than usual. He rolled around on the rough sheets of his bed, trying to fall asleep and have a nightmare, what he used to do. But instead of the bloodthirsty scenes of his reality, before his eyes was an act of kindness and tenderness, a scene of you rescuing a puppy. It made him angry ... no, it made him furious.

"Tch ... damn it." He sat up, running his fingers through his charcoal-colored hair. It didn't take him long to open his eyes completely and jump off the bed, grabbing his dark blue hoodie, pulling it over his naked muscular body and diving into the cold night.

He is in front of your house. He stands helplessly staring at the window. His eyes are half closed, but not from being tired. Fearful thoughts run through his head. "Damn bitch ..." - he wanted to hate you, he had to. People like Dabi, if only a little attempt is made to scratch the surface of their feelings, they defend themselves with hatred and denial because it is a place they never go into, because through life, they have learned that feelings bring nothing but pain and despair. So they decided to lock them up. Bury, hide, deny, and eventually destroy ... prevent them from surfacing, as was the case with Dabi.

He is in front of your window. He is looking at you. He found where your bedroom is. He watches you as you sleep. His electric blue eyes stare at you like a target. "You don't deserve to sleep so carefree ..." His intention was to finish you off at that point. Delete this irregularity. His hand was already bathed in blue flames, ready to obey his orders.

The light woke you up, disturbed your sleep. You opened your eyes, but there was nothing but darkness around you. You would swear the light woke you up. You laughed at yourself. Those crazy dreams. You rubbed your eyelids, which were still closing from the weight of sleep. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 02:45, that was the time the hands were pointing. Back to sleep, a simple decision. You turned on your side, your back was facing the window, but before you sank back into sleep, you turned once more to check on what your new hairy friend you had rescued from the street that night was doing. "That is odd ..." the little puppy sat on the edge of the bed, wagging his tail and looking out the window.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck?!" - He banged madly against the wall of abandoned building back in his neighborhood. A gang of villains who decided to lurk innocent victims there that night fled like insects seeing a furious Dabi approaching, bathed in his own flames head to toe. As soon as his fist slammed into the bricks of the wall for the first time, they disappeared with their tail between their legs. "Why did you have to look at me ... why ..." - you didn't even know that you looked him directly in the eye and that was what saved you. If you only woke up a few seconds later, you would never wake up again. He wanted to set you on fire and the place where you lived, to erase you as if you didn't even exist. But then your gaze caught his and a Pandora's box opened in his chest that he so desperately wanted to leave sealed. The kindness and tenderness your eyes carried seemed to shed light on his inner darkness. You froze him, a funny thing for someone bathed in flames. He escaped from there like those thieves from this building just now. Dabi doesn't run away. Dabi never runs away and does not dodge an opponent. He stopped hitting and sat down on the cold concrete. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes searching for the large yellow moon that sat on the dark clouds. "Yeah ... that's exactly how you are." - in the monotonous darkness of his life, now something bright and big emerged, throwing its light on the shadows he kept inside. He compared you to the moon once more, this time again with a taste of hatred in his mouth. "That's it ... you are exactly like this, a big fucking irregularity."

At first he didn't want to go back, but he had to. He literally had to. His body ached from the mental prohibition he issued to himself. As a drug addict, he was drawn to another hit. He justified his action quickly enough, convincing himself that he wanted to check if this was all one big misunderstanding he had with himself. That he drank a few extra drops of alcohol yesterday before he started following you. Anger piled up in his chest as he realized he was lying to himself. He drank only one whiskey, nothing compared to what he normally drank. Before he could muster more hatred directed at you, he had already came close to your house. The interior was lit. She is home. The thought of you breathing only a hundred yards away from him lifted the hair on his head. He needed to stop those breaths, because that would surely stop his dilemma. He decided to put an end to this circus once again. On his burned neck, the culprits for that catastrophe were climbing on it again. A blue flame hugged him around the neck. As it appeared, so it withdrew, quenching his anger as if it had never been there.

You came out with a cheerful smile. Playfully jumped over the new leash you bought for your furry friend. You went for your first late-night walk together. You and ... a pair of bright eyes lurking in the dark.

When he saw you, he felt like a match whose flame was put out with the weakest exhalation. That smile again. A smile that drew everyone to itself with its angelic vibe. Everything, even the dark and opposite of the angelic, Dabi. He has decided not to think about what he is doing, again patiently following you and watching from a safe distance. He realized that any attempt to explain or draw a conclusion resulted in his anger, and now he was rather tired of it. He could tell he was feeling defeated, not only because he failed to attack you, but because Pandora's box was now throwing its chains of dominance. He won't admit it, ever. He didn't even realize how hard it would be for him to deny it.

You came to the lake, after running and jumping with your puppy, you decided to sit on a bench and enjoy the murmur of the water. You tilted your head, removing the rubber band from your hair and loosening your ponytail. You inhaled a fresh breeze as it caressed your cheeks. Until your puppy suddenly jumped. He barked, wagging his tail merrily, looking toward the corner of the street. "What is it boy?" - you have to admit, you were lightly concerned. You haven’t seen anyone, and your friend apparently still feels someone. Although crime was not at a high rate in this part of the city, you were not far from the part where it was. You were far from an ordinary frightened girl, you knew how to defend yourself, you were brave, but you didn't ask for trouble if it wasn't necessary. You decided to head back home. Getting up, you picked up the puppy and headed the other way home. You checked behind you few times, but there was no one. Although, the feeling of someone watching you was not lost.

Damn traitor... he slipped away at the last moment before you saw him. This clumsy hiding was not in his style. He was usually pretty good at it, it was a part of his job, to go unnoticed. However, the others didn't have a curious dog sniffing you out from five blocks away. And after all ... he can only blame you for his slow reaction. Watching curls of hair falling over your bare shoulders that looked silky to the touch and your lovely face enjoying the breeze ... he swallowed more than once, fascinated by your every move. For the first time, he decided not to whip himself because of his weakness, but the desire to punish you for bringing him into a situation like this was growing.

The days went by and his night occupation did not change. Due to his absence from duty, he had a clash with other members of the LOV. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t do his part of the job. He forgot his responsibilities, following you instead. He remembers exactly what he learned about you that night when he was supposed to work. You like lollipops. You like lollipops a little too much. Of all the things you carried in those grocery bags on your way back from the store, lollipops of different fruit flavors took up most of the space. Hell, not only did you take them home but you ate three pieces on your way there. First you lick them a couple of times, traveling with your tongue around the round candy, then you put the whole thing in your mouth, sucking greedily. That evening he stopped a few blocks before your house, turned, went to the park, went behind a large tree whose century-old trunk could hide three adults, and helped himself. The way you swirled your tongue around that candy drove all the blood into his lower body. His dick was hard in a second. He saw you on your knees in front of him, first crossing over your full lips with his tip. How he pulls you by the hair as he fills your throat to the point where you can’t breathe. How he decides when you will get oxygen. How obediently you give him pleasure by sucking his dick juicier than you did a lollipop. How he touches your lips with his thumb while you still receive it in your mouth. Scenes popped before his eyes, while he jerked his rock hard cock. He growled under his breath, feeling that he will reach the climax soon. He would make you swallow every drop, and only after he was sure you were an obedient little girl would he let you inhale when he took it out of your mouth. He came on a dry tree trunk. What a pity, it could all be in your mouth.

Who ... the fuck ... is..he ...- he saw red in front of his eyes. His blood was boiling and his hands were shaking when he saw you walking your dog with someone. That someone was a guy. You talked and laughed, walking pretty close to each other. When the damn idiot brushed his shoulder against yours, Dabi could clearly see how he is tearing that limb off that morons body. Up to this point your smile had been creating a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t there because of his fiery power, but now he felt disgusted every time you laughed. Repulsive, the only word that could describe the scene in front of his eyes. Something so disgusting must not happen again, there are already enough disgusting things in this world.

You and your friend parted quite far from your houses. He has been around for over a year, trying to get out of the friend zone you have putted him in from the moment you met. Before he left, he hugged you. You carefully returned the hug, not wanting to give him false hopes. You patted him on the back and walked away slowly, shouting “See ya’!” to him. You should have said goodbye, because you'll never see him again.

Never before had he been so happy to take someone’s life as now, and the list of people he hated was long. However, this transcended hatred. He fed the horror in his eyes as he burned him slowly, so slowly that the unfortunate young man lost consciousness a couple of times from the pain and agony. But Dabi did not give him the satisfaction of dying in ignorance. He would punch him in the face, welcoming him back with his crazy smile every time. He wanted him to feel what he felt when he saw you two together. He wanted him to spend his last moments in hell and be fully aware of it. He burned him layer by layer, first the outer layer of skin, in order him to be alive for as long as possible. As he began to burn his inner organs, soon after the soul of his victim left the mutilated body. He threw it in the dumpster, like garbage that belongs there, and went looking for you.

You loved the night. You were always attracted to the mystical, the mystery of darkness and what is in it intoxicates your desires. Although you are a good person, you had a taste for dark things. Maybe you didn’t show that side of you so much in front of others, and because of it you had to endure endless efforts of the goodies just like your friend, who wanted you to share the softness of romance with them, but that wasn’t enough for you. You used to not even know what you wanted. Your thinking was interrupted by an instinctive sense of danger. You couldn't even turn around to check what was behind you when your eyes were covered by complete darkness. The pressure on your eyelids made your head hurt. A rough palm gripped you mercilessly, and before you tried to defend yourself with your hands, like handcuffs another hand wrapped itself around your wrist. An unknown person pushed you against the wall, squeezing you with his weight. He was strong, he squeezed the air out of your lungs with his pressure. Before you could speak, you felt a breath on your cheek.

„Make even a sound and I will bite that lips off your pretty doll face.“ Observation alone was no longer an option. After feeding the need to destroy what approached something that was his, he had to feed another need. He had to taste you. He had to know what the poison tasted like. You disrupted his way of life even without knowing he exists, you can’t do anything more when you finally feel his presence. At least he thought so. He forgot that like any addict, overdose is an option. He felt its sting the moment he pressed his lips violently to yours. With his lips he savagely parted yours, his tongue searching for yours, absorbing your taste and the sobs that came from your throat. The surface of his tongue traveled along yours. The longer he greedily kissed you, the worse the need to continue was. He kept your eyes still covered, fighting the urge to grab you by the jaw and let go of your arms just to turn you over and lift you up against the wall as he lit your clothes. But his need to absorb you was stronger than his sexual desire. Pandora's box was now bursting, releasing the thoughts and feelings that haunted him like devils, and the fact that you didn't return the kiss voluntarily gave birth to more anger in him. He moved his head away from yours, breathing hard.

"If you don't want to become a living torch, you better not turn around." You could feel the pressure on your body being released, your hands free again, and the other person's sense of presence fading a bit. You stood in shock, eyes closed. Of all the fears and horrors you have imagined when he first grabbed you, this was the last thing you thought would happen. That he will force you to kiss him and then disappear. I must not turn around, I must not ... the curiosity and fearlessness that were your most pronounced traits made your head turn and your eyes absorbed the sight of the person who attacked you. You saw his strong broad shoulders getting more and more away... you shuddered when you saw the scars on his arms and neck ... the black pointy hair... The last thing you saw was exactly what you shouldn't have seen, the look of blue eclectic eyes disappearing around the corner of the building into the night.

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chemicalvelocity · 3 years

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Happy Friday! I need therapy

So I wrote a fic for Fingers in my mouth Friday! Hope Y'all enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No warnings apply

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Word Count: 3545

Read Below the Cut:

Dean's not a creep. He's not, he swears. It's just that he's... noticing things now that he's not on high alert for monsters anymore.

He remembers the first evidence of Castiel he'd ever seen, an angry burn scar of a handprint. He thought it was a demon's for christ's sake. He hadn't paid mind at the time to the fact that it took up his entire deltoid.

Now, however, he was absently tracing its outline after a shower, staring more through the mirror than at it while recalling the events of breakfast. Jack had playfully started the comparing hand sizes game that seems to entertain kids so much.

Dean hadn't even put any thought into it until it turned into everyone else doing it to humor him; which culminated in Dean foolishly slapping his palm to Cas's and then realizing just how much smaller his hand was.

Naturally, he'd joked it off and found his way out of the conversation, acting like it wasn't a bruise to his ego. He had thousand-yard stared his way through a shower, and now, here he was.

He carefully fitted his hand over the scar tissue on his shoulder, and yep, there it was, a literal physical reminder of Cas's massive hands. He got over himself as quickly as he could and threw on his clothes before going to the garage to wash Baby.

That turned out to be a bad idea, as many of Dean's ideas do. Cas was sat in a lawn chair with the tunnel doors cracked, rolling a joint. Dean had pointedly ignored him, turning to rinse the car until Cas spoke up.

"Would you like some?" He asked, looking over at Dean with a twist of his slender fingers as his tongue darted out to wet the rolling paper's adhesive. Dean swallowed.

"Y'know that shit's bad for you, right?" Dean grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He opened a drawer to pull out sponges and brushes, tossing them into nearby buckets and setting them down near Baby's rear fender

"I think you know that's not true." Castiel hummed, placing the fresh joint between his lips, bringing the flame of his zippo to the end, and inhaling deeply.

"Whatever, Stoney baloney... Don't you usually smoke out on the roof, anyway?" Dean asked, filling up the first bucket with hot water and suds, the second with only cold water.

"It's raining," Cas replied, voice husky from the strain of holding in a hit. "Frankly, the Bunker is well ventilated enough that I could smoke in the library... where we still keep ashtrays on the table, but I figured I'd come in here to keep it away from Jack." He mused, blowing his lungful of smoke out the door.

"Right... Gotta say Cas, I'm sure second-hand smoke doesn't affect 20-year-old Nephilim toddlers." Dean chuckled, saturating the sponge in the first bucket and slung the soap across the Impala's roof, leaning up to scrub away the dust and bugs that come from hauling her back and forth across the Midwest.

"No, but I don't want to influence him, he's very impressionable, you know." Cas flicked the collecting ash into a labelless beer bottle that sat discarded in his chair's cupholder.

"I wonder where he could've gotten that from. Claire came to visit for one weekend and all of a sudden you're Bob Marley!" Dean teased, and Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

"I am not a musician, nor a Rastafarian, Dean. Claire simply pointed out that I think too much, and that cannabis is known to help." He drew in a deep hit and outstretched his arm to Dean, the cigarette balanced between two fingers. Smoke twirled lazily into the air around him.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes before coming over to pluck the smoke from Cas's possession. Cas watched him appraisingly as he took a drag, then another, and Dean almost choked when Cas's lips parted for the stream of smoke to travel neatly into his nostrils.

Okay, so Claire taught him how to french inhale. Dean idly wondered if he knew what ghosting was, before passing it back and returning to his task, pretending like his lungs didn't burn from the comparative lack of practice.

Dean hit the wall hard, his breath punched out of him with a grunt. He scrambled to his knees and whipped his head around to see Sam in a similar position nearby. Cas was still standing though now surrounded by three, very pissed-off demons, one of which had Dean's angel blade. Dean attempted to gather himself and help out, but his vision went sideways and he steadied himself against a table, opting to call out the angel's name, stupidly.

Cas had slashed the leg of the demon to his right and grappled the one to his left. As the first one went down, his palm met its forehead and smote it out of its meatsuit. The middle one charged him, but he spun the demon in his grip, shielding himself by launching his captive forward onto the blade, then seizing the neck of the remainder, holding him in place firmly. He turned to the bewildered hunters casually.

"Did you need him for anything else?" Dean bit down on his tongue in a failed attempt to reintroduce moisture to his mouth.

"N-No, Cas I think we're good, knock yourself out..." he rasped as Castiel tightened his grip on the demon's throat, and light burned out from under its skin. Sam and Dean had picked themselves up off the floor by now and made their way to the middle of the room.

"Good work, buddy," Dean panted as Cas piled up the bodies at his feet, and wiped blood away on his jeans. "Guess you hardly need us."

"Of course I do, You made an excellent distraction." Cas smiled and while Dean was sure it was a genuine statement, definitely felt the hit to his pride. Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit. Sam snorted at something and walked out. Dean didn't know what, but he didn't want to hit him any less for it.

"Hey, Cas, I have a bit of a concussion from the hunt the other night. Can you work a little magic?" Sam rubbed at his eyes, setting his laptop aside. Dean raised his eyebrows from his seat, taking a sip of beer. He wouldn't have asked Cas to expend any healing energy on himself, but Cas didn't protest. Instead, he hardly looked up from his book and snapped his fingers. Sam visibly relaxed. Dean did not.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I'm gonna go grab some grub, probably just pick up a pizza and some beers or something." Sam held his hand out for the impala keys. Dean tossed them to him with half a mind.

When Sam was gone, he was still staring at Cas in confusion.

"Can I help you with something too, Dean?" He quirked an eyebrow over his book. Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Nope, no, I'm okay, just a few scrapes. Can't have you wasting your mojo on that... I was just wondering why you didn't, uh, y'know," He tapped two fingers to his forehead and Cas's eyes turned up in a half-smile.

"I don't need to do that to heal."

"Oh... okay." He'd already asked a weird question, probably best not to pry into why Cas always touched him to heal. He tipped back the rest of his beer and fumbled around for an excuse of some sort to break the silence, but Cas stood first.

"I'm going to go find Jack. Let me know when Sam's back with dinner." He passed Dean with a warm squeeze to his shoulder. Dean watched him go, then realized just how long it's been since he's been laid. Too fucking long, apparently.

Yeah, no. Way too long. Dean's half-convinced Cas is fucking with him, too. His suspicion stemmed from Cas's sudden love of eating every meal with them and requesting things like wings or fries.

"Morning sunshine, Sam and Jack already left to go check out a case. I made pan...cakes..." Dean's sentence fell flat when his eyes met Cas entering in a half-buttoned-up shirt. His long fingers slipped buttons into place as he yawned his greeting and trudged his way to the coffee maker.

Dean was a little concerned that he noticed Cas's hands before he noticed the toned and tanned chest underneath the shirt. He ran a hand down his face and moved to pour more coffee. Cas passed over the pot and turned to the stack of pancakes, tossing two onto a plate and proceeding to destroy them with fruit and whipped cream.

"When was the last time we cleaned our firearms?" Cas asked, swirling his finger through the toppings of his breakfast before popping it in his mouth. Dean set his mug down, a little too hard. Cas gave him a look.

"Are you fucking with me?" Dean tried not to sound petulant, but he can't catch a single break. Cas bit his lower lip, and then cleared his throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Was his response, innocent and hid behind a sip of coffee. Dean pursed his lips.

"You- you don't?" Dean was momentarily taken aback. Was he so unbelievably tense that he'd imagined the whole problem?-

"No, Dean, you've been staring at my hands all week, I have no idea what you're talking about." he deadpanned.

Dean's face burned. He didn't think he was being obvious about it or anything. Cas was observant, though.

"At first I thought you were just insecure about your hand size, but surely you'd have gotten over that in a day. Then I did some research and decided to... Encourage you." He continued casually as if Dean wasn't praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

"I uh, appreciate that, Cas... Um, what conclusions exactly did you draw?" Dean squeaked out because frankly he still wasn't sure what was going on here.

"You may have a sexual preference for hands, which makes sense, given your previous statements regarding slapping." Cas hummed into his coffee and, yeah okay Dean needed to end this conversation before he melted from shame.

"Okay, right, got it, I'll stop staring." He managed, grabbing his mug and turning to leave before Cas grabbed his arm. He glanced down at the sudden warmth around his wrist, then up to meet Cas's cobalt gaze.

"I never told you to stop," Cas said calmly, loosening his grip to slip his fingers into Dean's hand and pull him closer. "Dean, I researched it." His expression was earnest, and Dean shuddered involuntarily.

"Listen, man, It's not like, a thing... It's just, well, you have nice hands, and you kinda marked me... with your very large hand." Dean still wanted to disappear, but Cas didn't seem too bothered.

"I wanted to tell you, I touch you when I heal because I like the excuse to," Cas murmured, raising his other hand to cup Dean's jaw. Dean's breath hitched. "I enjoy the warmth. Everything else is always so cold." Cas whispered, running his thumb lightly across Dean's bottom lip. Dean couldn't stop the noise he made as it caught on his nail.

Cas's pupils grew wide, and he curiously pushed his thumb deeper. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked gently, noting the faint taste of the strawberries Cas had put on his pancakes. Dean pulled back before he embarrassed himself any further.

"Uh," Dean's brain replied dumbly. "Can I kiss you?" His dick helped with that one.

"I just put my thumb in your mouth and you feel the need to ask-" Cas's snark was cut short by Dean pressing him up against the counter and slotting their lips together. Cas gripped the front of Dean's shirt and kissed him back like a man dying of thirst. This is why Dean's thought process is filled with question marks when Cas puts a hand firmly on his chest and pulls back to speak.

"I don't think the kitchen is the best place for this." He rumbled into their shared space. Dean perked back up when he realized the proposition.

"Did you wanna finish your breakfast first? I can't guarantee we'll be back in here any time soon." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at the angel.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Dean," Cas smiled. "I'd love to. While I do I think you probably want to go get ready." Cas wiped the look off Dean's face when he reeled him back in for another kiss.

"O-oh, yeah, okay. Meet you in my room in ten." And then he was speedwalking out of the kitchen.

Dean turned off the shower after a very thorough cleaning and wrapped his towel around his waist, hurrying back down the hallway to his room. Cas was sitting on the bed patiently.

"Hello, Dean." He smiled, reaching up to tug off his tie. Dean's throat went dry again.

"Hi," Dean was clutching his towel like a lifeline. Cas observed him fondly as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Did you want me to put something on? Or..."

Cas just chuckled and beckoned him closer. Dean stood between his legs and his heart dropped out of his ass when Cas took his hands and pulled gently, signaling for Dean to kneel. He lowered himself slowly to his knees and looked up at Cas, expectant, and not at all freaking out on the inside. Cas leaned in to kiss him again. That, he could work with.

"I want you to put your hands on my knees, and you can't move them unless I say so, is that alright?" Castiel spoke when they parted.

Oh.

Apparently, hand kink isn't the only thing Cas researched. Dean felt the command go straight to his dick. He nodded hastily, but Cas said nothing, only waited, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, Cas." He breathed, and Cas grinned and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it into Dean's desk chair.

"Good. Get comfortable." Dean sat back on his heels and placed his hands on top of Cas's thighs. Cas placed both of his hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing small circles in the muscle before he slid them upwards to massage the back of Dean's neck. When Dean was staring up at him with hooded eyes and humming his appreciation, Castiel's patience grew thin.

Cas held the back of Dean's neck steady, tracing the fingers of his right hand down Dean's temple and across his lips. This time, Dean didn't have any reservations about darting his tongue out to meet them. Cas inhaled deeply through his nose and pushed his index and middle fingers into Dean's mouth.

Dean sighed and let himself go, he lapped at Cas's fingers like he was starving. He held Cas's heated gaze and felt his dick wake back up, twitching underneath his towel.

"So good, you're such a good boy for me, Dean." Cas praised. Dean thought he might pass out. The feeling of Cas inside him, even if it was just his fingers sliding along his tongue was heady. He looked down and took notice of the increasing tightness of Cas's pants. Cas slid his fingers out and leaned back on his elbows. Dean panted, his fingers gripping Cas's thighs with the effort of keeping still.

"Would you like something else, Dean?" Cas smirked down at him. "All you have to do is ask." Dean screwed his eyes shut and swallowed his pride.

"I want," He let out a shuddering breath as Cas ran a hand through his hair. "I want to suck you off."

"You can move your hands now." Cas hummed and leaned his head back. Dean practically sprung forward, ignoring the ache in his calves as he latched his mouth onto one of the angel's nipples. His hands made quick work of Cas's belt and fly, tugging firmly at his pockets to get them off. When Cas's flushed erection came free, Dean leaned forward to mouth at the head and cup his balls.

Cas wove a hand into Dean's hair and pulled. Dean moaned around the cock in his mouth, drawing a deep groan from Cas in response. Dean drank in the sound and relaxed his jaw to swallow him down further, bobbing his head rapidly.

"Dean." Cas sounded wrecked, and Dean's head snapped up to attention.

"Yeah?" He asked, breath heaving as he leaned up to his eye level.

"May I-"

"Anything, Angel, seriously." He pressed his lips to the heated flesh under Cas's jaw, sucking hard and nipping gently.

"I want to fuck you." Cas gasped, leaning into Dean's mouth. Dean nodded and climbed to his feet to get the lube from his nightstand. Cas sat up and wrenched Dean's towel away. His eyes roved Dean's body appreciatively before pulling him down on the bed. "Lie down on your front, please." He purred, and Dean was on his elbows in an instant, handing back the lubrication.

Cas caressed the contours of Dean's back reverently, before gingerly parting Dean's cheeks and licking a broad stripe across his hole. Dean felt his whole body twitch.

"Fuck, C-Cas..." Dean whined out, completely sideswiped by Cas's impromptu rimjob. He helplessly thrust his hips back against Cas's grip. Castiel reeled back a single hand and gave Dean's ass a hard smack. Dean dropped his face into his pillow with a keen from the back of his throat.

"Sit still, Dean. Let me take care of you." He growled, mouthing kisses from the base of Dean's spine to the cleft of his ass again. He laved his tongue in tantalizing circles, fucking it in and out nimbly and drawing a chorus of breathy sounds from the hunter.

"Please, Sweetheart... I need you... Need you inside me, c'mon." Dean whimpered, writhing under the sensation of Cas's hot breath and slick tongue. Cas finally gave in and sat up, reclaiming the bottle of lube to squeeze a sizeable portion directly onto Dean's entrance. Dean shivered from the sudden cold, only to cry out again when Cas's strong index finger slid in with very little resistance.

Cas continued to pepper Dean's shaking shoulders with wet kisses as he thrust his finger in, curling it hard against Dean's prostate and savoring the faint sound of Dean nearly wailing into his pillow. He slid in a second finger and scissored them back and forth to make way for a third. At this point, Dean had lifted his head and turned towards Cas with pleading eyes. Cas leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"You're doing so well, Dean... Are you ready?" Cas mumbled into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Christ... Yes, Cas, please." Dean managed to get his knees under himself and Cas slicked himself up, working the head of his cock into Dean's fluttering hole. He clutched at Dean's hips and slowly rocked himself in deeper. "Fuck!" Dean yelped, trying to meet Cas's thrusts to no avail.

"Relax, my love." Cas moaned, rolling his hips into Dean, captivated by the catch of skin around him. "Do you want to move?" He asked, and released his iron hold on Dean's waist with a chuckle when Dean nodded eagerly. Dean thrust back against Cas with abandon. A surprised gasp was drawn from both of them as Cas sped up his thrusts to match. Dean was going to come if Cas didn't slow down, so he gathered his thoughts enough to speak up.

"Cas, wait. Can I flip?" He panted, and Cas's onslaught came to a stop.

"Of course, Dean." He pulled out carefully and leaned away for Dean to position himself on his back. Castiel admired the flush that spread down Dean's neck and covered most of his chest. He leaned forward to suck dark hickeys into Dean's collarbone to contrast. Dean reached down to guide Cas back inside, sighing amorously when he was seated again.

Cas rocked in and out once more with renewed enthusiasm. He snapped his hips forward, causing Dean to arch up off the bed with a shout. Stars burst behind his eyelids as Cas lifted Dean's legs to wrap around his waist and repeated contact his prostate shot sparks through his bloodstream.

"Ah-fuck, Cas, Baby... I'm gonna come. Are you almost there?" Dean gasped and reached up to pull Cas down for a vehement kiss when he grunted his confirmation. Dean felt the heat of his release coil deep in his gut and rocked up into Cas with a fervor, moaning heavily into Cas's mouth with each collision of their hips.

Then the tension in Dean's core snapped, and he was coming without so much as a moment's attention to his dick, clinging to Cas's shoulders with a fucked out whine. Cas kept going and Dean's synapses felt like they were being deep-fried as Castiel's stuttering hips drove him in deeply one, two then a final time as he emptied himself into Dean with a low groan. He then pulled out slowly and rolled off a now depleted Dean to spoon him.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dean wheezed, and Castiel grinned into his hair.

"I'm glad I could help you come to that epiphany. I love you too, Dean."

#Spn #spn fanfiction #destiel fanfic #my writing #minors dni #dean winchester #Castiel #Fimmf #Happy Friday!!#destiel #deancas #casdean #dean x cas #supernatural fanfiction

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kuuderekweenfics · 3 years

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Only Temporary

I really wanted to make Keigo nasty. Like, a real debaucherous fiend who could hardly give a hoot about you (pun intended). Instead he came out of my head ever the gentlemen and oh, so soft.

Like a roll of double-ply toilet paper. (Kidding!)

But I��m not mad about it.

Also, reader, in this fic, you’re a bit cold at the beginning. So if you can’t imagine yourself being stand-offish, this mayyyy not be for you. For those of you who read my first piece, I added a lil Easter egg in there.

Hawks x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: Next stop, Orgasmville (18+)

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“baby, oh fuck...I’m gonna cum...”

An eye roll begins to form and you close your eyes to avoid confrontation. Not that he’s paying attention to anything other than his current orgasm anyway. Eyes clutched and nostrils flared. He looks constipated, you think. You choke down the impending laughter but can’t help the jerk your body makes, so you blanket it with a gaudy, dramatic moan to disguise your exposed apathy.

He’s busy peeling off the condom as you turn over and reach for your phone, dragging a finger under your eye to wipe away any mascara that may flaked during the two minutes of intercourse.

“Did I blow your mind?” He beckons for encouragement like a puppy beckons for attention.

You decide to throw him a bone. A lazy smile flickers in place. “Extraordinary.”

Puppy wags his tail.

You leave his apartment 20 minutes later, after a quick rinse off and against his wishes, feigning a prior engagement that requires the upmost promptness. As you walk along the bustling city sidewalk, neon lights and advertisements flashing cinematic beauty queens, you remind yourself that this, that he, is only temporary.

You met him at an overpriced cafe. You didn’t even remember his damn name. He was flustered, you could immediately tell by his stumbling speech. But you hadn’t been laid in over a year and needed to feel something other than your fingers or the purple silicone vibrator you kept tucked away in your nightstand drawer. Even if he was staler than the cup of coffee you purposely left behind.

But all you ended up doing was counting the seconds between thrusts until it was finally over.

“At least the cobwebs have been swept,” you settle. You thought someone who had a hardening quirk would have more gusto. Apparently the hardness of his boner does very little for the duration of intercourse. Good to know.

The chilled air nipped at you skin, leaving your cheeks and nose red with its kiss. In its wake was a residual sweetness, weak but more exigent the farther you walked. You made use of your quirk, a keen sense of smell, to locate where the comforting aroma came from. You face the bright patisserie, welcoming and quaint and almost entirely unoccupied.

As you walk inside, you’re greeted by a young woman, her swollen belly covered by an apron. She’s attempting to grab a tart from the middle shelf of the display case, squatted with her hand pressed into her lower back as if it were the only thing keeping her from toppling over.

“Do you need help?” You watch with pity.

She blinks at you and sighs, contemplating whether it was a good idea, or if it was even allowed, to ask for a customer’s assistance. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, she nods and lets out a breathy laugh. “Please. This baby makes it impossible for me to do much nowadays.”

She hands you a glove and the box that had three cakes sitting neatly atop parchment. “How far along are you?”

It’s a weak attempt of small talk. And you don’t really care to know. But it would be awkward carry on in silence. So you manage to sound curious all the same.

“33 weeks.”

You hand her the box, tart acquired, and mumble out a congratulations. She thanks you kindly, although her smile doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. She gives you a slice of strawberry shortcake, perched on the top shelf, as reward for your task, as well as a coin.

“It’s for the gacha,” she points at the machine near the entrance. “I check each capsule to make sure there are no duds.”

You can’t possibly know what she means by that. You hold up the coin to her in thanks and grab your capsule before setting off.

It’s an All Might charm. Throwing it in your pocket, you work on your slice of cake, grabbing it with your hand and taking a bite like it was a slice of pizza. You never understood the logic behind idolizing heroes. While they did save the world from certain demise, and you were very thankful you were not a slave to a demon lord, heroes are simply doing their job. Were you to idolize the teen who whips up your order at McDonaz for feeding you as well? Mouthful of strawberry and cream, you chuckle at the mental image.

Your vision blurs as you’re abruptly yanked out of your reverie.

“What in the actual fuck?” You question angrily.

You turn to see a man, blue face partially covered for anonymity, holding the purse that is still slung to your shoulder. You stare through mirthless eyes as he growls in frustration, obviously intending to make an easier escape. Cake in hand, you slap him hard enough to leave a stinging pain in your palm. He struggles to get the cream from out of his eyes as he dashes away.

You hear a laugh behind you. “I had all intentions of rescuing you, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.”

His arms are crossed and his yellow visor does little to hide his obvious amusement.

“There are bigger evils to be thwarted. I can manage a failed pickpocket,” you respond, shifting your purse strap to sling across your body. “Shouldn’t you be, like, going after that guy?”

He blinks. “I already have.”

Your hair is pushed forward as the crimson feather zips past you and nestles neatly back into his plush wings. The weight of his stare is immobilizing. You’ve been gawked at by men countless times. But his slitted pupils gleams with lascivious intent.

You should look away.

You should tell Hawks goodnight.

You just let some rando fuck you only an hour ago.

Could you count that as a fuck?

That’s beside the point.

Only, you’re not sure what happened in the last ten minutes because now he’s pressed against you in your apartment hall, his lips latched onto yours as his stubble scrapes your chin. You want to put your hands on him anywhere and everywhere, feel the wiry muscles of his arm or test just how soft his wings are. But before you can so much as place a finger on him he seizes your wrists and holds them against the wall above your head, only to immediately trade them for your ass, hauling you up off the floor so that you can straddle him as your kiss deepens like the sea, your tongue sliding across his in waves.

You give him directions to the bedroom through the sloppy, firm kisses, shrugging off your top and hearing it hit the floor behind you. You jerk your hips forward to feel his hard-on, your jeans adding a touch of friction that makes you moan softly into his mouth.

He plops you on the bed, immediately tugging on the button of your pants.

But wait...

Perplexed, you ask, “When did you undress?”

Hawks grins at you and, instead of a response, answers by flapping his wings. The cold air it pushes towards you elicits a shiver. He rips off your jeans and panties in one go, staring at your pussy as if it were his last, god-damned meal. He winds his arms around your thighs and pulls you forward, his hot breath making your cunt twitch. He licks you with fervor, pressing his tongue against your soft, wet flesh. The moan he releases covers you in goosebumps. As he narrows in on your clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking down, your breasts jerks up. The pleasure is palpable as he eats away at your needy pussy vehemently. He releases one leg and inserts a finger into you to test the waters, followed by a second to fill you a bit more, curling his fingers upward in search of the spot that is sure to drive you wild. And it doesn’t take long, because in record timing you’re feeling hot, so very fucking hot, and the pressure that has been building in your head begs for release.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...me,” you drag out, snapping the rubber band that was holding your sanity in place.

You come hard and loud. He chuckles as he lets you drift back down from your high, lapping away at your juices and then wiping what remains on his chin with his thumb. As he sits up he rubs his dick, hard and thick and begging for entry as precum drips from the tip. He strokes his cock against your lips, thick veins greeting your clit to reinvigorate your arousal.

“Please,” you breathe out. It’s so unlike you to beg. You’re stubborn and proud, but in this instant, you would give anything for him to fuck you into oblivion, destroying your soppy cunt like he might destroy a menace.

He grabs your waist and pulls you up, kissing you roughly before falling back, leaving you straddled on top of him. He runs his hands down your body, rubbing you clit haphazardly.

“Show me how much you want it,” he smirks.

You rub his arousal against your lips a few times to continue coating him with your overflowing juices. Then you lean forward, one hand behind you takes hold of his cock and guides him in.

He’s big. Like “bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut while you tremble” big. You’re wetness did little for this intrusion, his cock scraping your walls as it inches in deep. But imagining his dick impaling you in quick succession leaves you breathless and wanting. You begin to move. Bobbing up and down, slowly at first, to get used to his girth. Adding the occasional swirl of your hips to get your pussy to cooperate and suck him up entirely. His eyes are on your cute face, red and focused, before he slides them down to watch where your bodies are conjoined. After a few minutes of pumping, your legs are beginning to tire, and try your best to keep the pace but hope for some intervention or a small reprieve. He must notice this, because he places his hands on your hips and pulls down, sheathing himself completely in one hard thrust. You cry out in ecstasy, throwing your head back as his fat cock punches into your cervix.

You hear him grunt under you. “Shit. F-fuck. You’re clamping around me.”

He thrusts, grinding into your throbbing cunt mercilessly. You cant think, you can breathe, all you can focus is the swift piston that seem to send an electric shock into the pit of your chest. You rub your the bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat with abandon, sending another bolt through your body. He catches your eyes roll to the back of your head. Shit, shit, shit, right there, right there, right...

A scream that had been building up in your stomach explodes from your mouth as your entire body quakes above him, hands gripping onto the anchor that is his hard, muscular abdomen.

He gently places his arm on your lower back, maneuvering the both of you without pulling out. You’re not sure if it’s the residual effect of your last orgasm, but you feel almost weightless.

You wouldn’t find out until later that he had used his wings to reposition.

He lays you on the mattress, kissing your neck and trailing down until his mouth meets your breast. He begins moving again, sucking on your nipple and softly biting just enough to make you moan. His thrusts are calculated: deep and triggering, each one leaving you a drooling mess.

He places his forearms on either side of your head, pressing a kiss to your ear.

“I need to fuck you hard,” he whispers.

All you can do is frantically nod before he starts speeding up, skin slapping skin. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, quick grunts echoing the creak of the springs in the bed beneath you. His dick pushes your organs up, up, up, as your body takes him in obediently, craving the taste. You mewl out quietly, biting your bottom lip and furrowing your brows.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty.”

You cant respond, you just focus on each relentless thrust driving you closer to the breaking point. He sits up, raising your hips to find a better angle. He rams into you, quick and powerful. His cock reduces your mind to mush each time he bottoms out. He is close, you know. Not because his fingers are now digging into the skin of your hips, or the sweat that gleams on his brow. But because you feel his dick twitch repeatedly in your gewy cunt.

He plows into you erratically, filling you up so, very thoroughly. He grits his teeth with one final plunge, shooting his hot, sticky load into you. The feeling of his cum stuffing you to the brim feels almost comforting. You try, desperately, to hold in the sob threatening to escape you. You refuse to get emotional.

Oh lord. Get a grip. You just met the man. You need to keep your cool. Because, just like the one before, regardless of your small, nagging desire, you know the cold truth of the matter.

He’s only temporary.

Even if he has given you the best sex of your life.

Even as his shaky fingers detach from your hips as he releases a whistle.

Even as he asks, “you doing okay?” with an open tenderness that surprises you.

Even as he brings his hand to your face and wipes away the tear that manages to free itself despite your earnest resolve.

Even as you give him the most genuine smile you can offer.

“Extraordinary.”

#hawks x y/n #hawksbnha #hawks x reader #fan fiction #Smut #bnha smut #anime fic #why is it spicy #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

Text

The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding

—

"Hey. You'll marry me, won't you?"

Aloth had spent the last five years of his life honing his skills and reflexes in his mission to hunt down and destroy one of the most dangerous cults on the face of Eora, but somehow he still couldn't help but be utterly bested by just a few little words. Axa had a way of doing that– cutting past all his pretense and politesse, punching through all his meticulously constructed defenses with just a few simple words, striking at the very heart of him. It was part of why he loved her, and no small part, either.

He pulled her closer as he attempted to sit up in her spacious sleeping berth, struggling to scrape enough of his brain back together from the one-two punch of vigorous, passionate lovemaking followed up by that question to formulate an answer for her. But despite his best efforts, he found that the best he could manage was a feeble, "I beg your pardon?"

She laughed and nuzzled her face into his chest, his bare skin warm against her brow. She'd known the question would shock him, but she also knew that no matter how carefully she phrased it, there really was no way to ask a man like Aloth a question like that without shocking him. "Sorry to surprise you. But it's something I've been thinking about for a while now," she continued. "After we've arrived back in the Dyrwood and settled a few matters, gotten Caed Nua's reconstruction properly underway, taken some time to recover from all this– there'd really be nothing stopping us." She snuggled closer. "And I know the challenges we'll be facing in this new, uncertain world would feel a lot less daunting with you by my side. So... why not get married?"

Axa paused, then, tensed up in Aloth's arms. "That is, if you'd like to." She lifted her head to look at him, her violet eyes soft and glittering in the lamplight. "Would you like to?"

He studied her face, rosy and gorgeous and full of hope. Her proposal wasn't entirely unexpected– after all, it was only natural that she should want to take their relationship further, especially after all they'd been through together in the Deadfire– but it was still a bit overwhelming, actually experiencing such a thing himself instead of merely reading about it in a novel or watching strangers act it out in a stageplay. His head was swimming, his heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach was fluttering madly– but all the same, he couldn't help but smile at her.

"Of course. Of course I would," he murmured at last, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. "I can think of no greater pleasure."

The tears finally came, welled in her eyes as she beamed up at him. "Oh, Aloth," she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder and squeezing him tight. "You have no idea how happy you've just made me."

"How happy I've made you?" He laughed, surprised to find himself blinking away tears as well. "I'm to be the consort of the Lady of Caed Nua! The brave, kind, beautiful heroine who uncovered the cause of the Hollowborn Crisis and saved the Dyrwood, the indomitable spirit who defies death and deities alike– and of all people, you want to be mine, to be my– my–"

My bride. Axa. My bride, my love, my wife. The reality of it suddenly struck him with its full gravitas, and an indescribable emotion washed over him. "I love you, Axa. Truly."

Giggles mingled with her sobs, and she scrubbed at her wet eyes with a fuzzy fist. "And I love you," she replied softly. She looked up at him again, grinning. "You'll plan everything, right? I was never very good at that sort of thing."

Aloth sighed, slumping back down against the pillows as Axa cackled. "I should have known," he groaned, shaking his head good- naturedly at his newly-betrothed.

"Yes, you should have," she agreed, spreading out on top of him, making herself comfortable. "Planning a fancy formal event– such as, say, the wedding of a landed thaynu who is returning triumphantly from a world-shaking, death-defying mission in the Deadfire– plays much more to your strengths than to mine. Of course, I'll help as much as I'm able. How about I find us an officiant?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Xoti, then? Or were you thinking of asking Vatnir?"

She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in consternation. "Gods, are those two the only priests I know?" she muttered, resting her chin again Aloth's sternum, and she sighed. "Typical of me, I suppose, to shun all clergy but the most death-obsessed misfits. Even my resident cleric at Caed Nua was a morose Berathian."

Was. Axa's smile faltered, and she abruptly went quiet, unfixing her gaze, lowering her eyelids.

"Well, given what we know of the gods, is it any surprise our priestly acquaintances gravitate toward the morbid?" Aloth tucked a lock of her burgundy hair behind her ear, let his hand linger on her cheek. He'd noticed the sudden chill in her demeanor– reminded of Caed Nua, no doubt, of her myriad responsibilities back at home, the dead waiting to be buried– and had hoped he could warm her back up a bit, but it appeared that even his wry musings weren't enough to soothe her melancholia.

"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" Axa's voice was soft and serious, and she reflexively curled in on herself, clinging to her lover as she contemplated the future ahead of them. "Kith, I mean."

He wrapped her in his arms, warm and steady, and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't know. With the Wheel destroyed and the cycle of reincarnation stalled indefinitely, we'll certainly have our work cut out for us. But if there's one thing in common between all peoples and cultures on Eora, I would posit that it is our stubbornness." Aloth smiled, ran a hand through her thick, soft hair. "With people like you working to guide and support us, kith may yet learn to band together and channel that indefatigable will of ours into finding an equitable solution for all this mess. In any case, I can't really see us all just... giving up. Especially not after all we've seen, all we've been through."

The two lay together in silence for a while, his hand in her hair, her ear pressed to his heart. It had always fascinated her, how elf hearts beat so much more slowly than orlans'.

"The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding," she murmured.

"I... do hope you're not intending to have me write that on the invitations." He allowed himself a small smile. When she hadn't responded, he was sure he'd failed to cheer her, but maybe he'd conceded too soon?

"It's a children's song," she laughed, propping herself up a bit, "that I was just now reminded of. It's about an elf and an orlan at their wedding, and everyone in attendance is bemoaning the foolishness of such a union. 'She'll outlive you by two centuries, it's a waste of time for you both'... That sort of sentiment."

"Charming," Aloth deadpanned.

"Oh, yes," she chuckled, "very much so. Of course, by the end, the lyrics reveal that the titular elf and orlan are well aware of the vast disparity in their lifespans, but they've decided they love each other too much to let something like that get in the way of enjoying their time together."

He smiled knowingly. "Sounds familiar."

She smiled back. "The moral of the story, of course, is that one cannot waste one's life worrying about what others think, about the 'proper' ways of going about this or that, and that it's better to live in the moment and enjoy what you have while you have it."

"Sounds very familiar," Aloth sighed. "But if kith spend too much energy on enjoying the present, we won't be able to prepare for the troubles of the future until they're upon us."

"Ah, but that's just another reason the title characters chose to marry," Axa grinned. "It's easy to miss the significance when you're a child, but there are a few lines in the song regarding the orlan's horrible estranged family complaining about how the orlan's assets will now be bequeathed to his elf wife upon his death, thus keeping it out of their greedy paws for at least 200 more years, if not forever."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's not your reason for proposing, is it?"

"No!" She laughed, lightly swatting at his chest with the back of one hand. "Although it'll be damned funny, I have to admit, sticking it to all the little Dyrwoodan lordlings with their eyes on my land who were just planning on waiting for me to die in a few decades." A wicked grin spread across her little face, and Aloth couldn't help but laugh.

"Pray tell, then," he smiled, running a hand up and down her back, ruffling her fur and smoothing it back down, "what exactly is the point you're trying to make by bringing up this song, my dear?"

Axa toyed with a lock of his hair, biting her lip and staring at nothing in particular, before finally admitting: "You know, I'm not sure. I definitely lost the plot somewhere along the line, there. I suppose I was trying to draw some sort of parallel between The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding, and our wedding, and... and the challenges ahead of us all in regards to repairing the cycle of reincarnation... something about planning for the future while still making sure to enjoy the present..." She scoffed at herself, resting her chin on Aloth's breast again. "Maybe I was simply randomly reminded of a silly song from my youth and I'm trying too hard to stretch it to link it to current events. Or I'm just tired and rambling and not making any sense at all."

"No," Aloth assured her, "you definitely had a reason for bringing it up, even if you can't quite articulate why." He stroked the back of her ear, staring pensively at the ceiling. "I think, perhaps, you wanted to reassure yourself that even if some new version of the Wheel ends up never getting built, even if it turns out that the days of kith are truly numbered and our end is inevitable... that doesn't mean you need to mourn every day yet to come as if it's already been lived in vain. As a Chanter, and given the subject we'd been discussing, it's only natural the realization would come to you in the form of a song about marriage."

She snuggled close to him, sighing contentedly. "You see why I want you to plan the wedding?" she murmured. "You make everything make sense."

"I learned it from you, you know," he replied, nuzzling the top of her head. "Funny how that works, isn't it? Like a two-piece puzzle. We complete each other."

"Thought that advice sounded familiar," Axa giggled. "Should listen to myself– and you– more often."

"That's a given." Aloth went to kiss her forehead, and she surprised him yet again by scooting forward and craning her neck to press her lips to his instead.

"What about Engrim?" she whispered sweetly, her smile still brushing his. "He's a priest of Magran. If we kept the booze away from him until after the ceremony–"

"Absolutely not, my love." His breath tickled her nose. "No wedding of mine will utilize a Magranite ceremony, and certainly not one conducted by a lush."

The little woman laughed, pressing her face to his neck. "Come on, I'm running out of priests!"

"You truly can't think of any others?" He kissed her temple, sighing with a mix of contendedness and exasperation at his little bride.

"Well, I do know a certain Glamfellen who's a priest of Wael, but we're not exactly on speaking terms." She tried a wry grin, but it morphed into a grimace halfway through. "Ugh. Not as funny as I thought it'd be. Sorry."

Aloth chuckled. "It's decided, then. We'll have a secular wedding."

"Sounds good to me, actually," Axa replied. "Never had much need of the gods anyway."

—

#pillars of eternity #watcher axa #aloth #short fic #oneshot #that bitch really called me out in the middle of my own story for losing the plot #...it does kinda meander though doesn't it lmao #not sure what i was really going for in the last third there #anyway it's out of my head now and that's what matters #thanks for reading ♡

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pandoratheprocrasticreator · 3 years

Text

I listened to the TAZ Grad finale!

Fellas is it gay to become imbued with the essence of the sea after influence from your water genasi teammate, pester said teammate afterwards to name a boat after you, and sail away with them into the sunset to run a cruise line scam and become morally righteous pirates?

Ive been looking at people’s reactions on the finale and yeah I loved the chaos magic parts! The whole issue with the mishandling of D&D mechanics was never really a problem with me, although I know some people feel more strongly about that than I do.

Personally, I’ve always listened to TAZ for the story and not the actual D&D so I never really took issue with any of the DM-ing mistakes Travis did. Parts of the actual story had problems (the centaurs, Ranier, other points where Travis tried to be inclusive but implemented it where it wasn’t relevant) but overall I think the enjoyable parts far outweighed the bad.

And the McElroys in general are funny as hell so even though Grad wasn’t as profound as Balance or as sad as Amnesty I still enjoyed it a lot! I would probably put Grad above Amnesty but below Balance, but of course Balance holds a special place in my heart.

A problem people had with the finale that I didn’t notice while listening was that of all their talk of “destroying capitalism,” the trio settled down to comply with capitalist society at the end. And while I do agree that the “this system is bad but let’s slowly make change from within” message has been done to death, I don’t think that the ending was necessarily performative and disingenuous on the McElroy’s part.

The first point is that even though the trio decided to participate in Nua’s society in stereotypically “exploitative” careers, (particularly in Fitzroy and Firbolg/Gary’s case) they did so explicitly to keep people from being exploited by the system. Not to mention their paths fit their character arcs pretty well.

Fitzroy’s “who will protect the weak from the strong” speech doesn’t indicate a sleazy lawyer willing to exploit the law to make a quick buck. One person described him as one of those pro-bono lawyers and I agree with that comparison. Fitzroy is a morally good person at his core, and he initially thought the hero society would help him do good, and after becoming disillusioned with hero society, he decided to carve out his own system to allow him to do good, both by being a lawyer and by being a pirate that only attacks rich assholes. (I really like that he clarified he would only attack rich assholes my chaotic good lawyer boi <3)

Firbolg’s whole character arc of being conscientious of resources to help the community instead of hoarding things to himself, in my opinion, culminates neatly with his decision of becoming a financial advisor. He has learned that both the “share all your resources without regard for the future” ideals of the Firlbolg and the “hoard all your resources for your own benefit” ideal of Nua’s society are both flawed extremes, and has dedicated his career to helping communities find a balance between the two.

Argo’s cruise seems more of a small business to me than a capitalistic venture, but I have never taken an econ class in my life so I digress. His character arc was about finding something to live for other than the past and I think it’s a good conclusion to his arc that he commemorates his mother and friends with the cruise line but still seeks out his own future outside of that by becoming a pirate. His original plan was to go with the establishment and work with one of the most powerful heroes in the world until he gets revenge, so it’s nice to see him grow to find his own self sustaining outside of the establishment.

The second point is that TAZ Grad was never about destroying capitalism. That was a joke that Travis laid the foundation to, but it was the players who made that joke and rolled with it. Tumblr user @fitzroythecreator wrote a really good analysis of how the main theme of Grad was self reliance which I agree with. While that is one of the main themes, I will be focusing on the theme of capitalism that a lot of people tend to focus on.

The characters’ goal was to destroy the HOG, which was an allegory for how organizations function under capitalism, but never a direct parallel with capitalism as an ideology or functional system itself.

When they first joked about “ending capitalism” by blowing up the HOG I was concerned because that’s not how anything works. The HOG was just one cog (heh) in the capitalist machine that was Nua’s society, and while destroying it would cause significant damage and change, it wouldn’t immediately shift everyone’s worldviews to discard their capitalist society as a whole. If the boys carried out the mission and all of a sudden the whole world was fixed, it would be even more disingenuous to present a utopian solution to a pressing, real world problem that simply cannot be solved this way.

I’m glad that they didn’t end capitalism. Social issues like this can never realistically be resolved by three spunky heroes on an adventure. You would need action from an entire population. Often violent action. There were already issues with too many NPCs in the spotlight so describing and entire population’s uprising would have exacerbated the problems even more. As four white men, the McElroys neither had the answers for how to end capitalism, nor would their medium of a D&D podcast have allowed them to present them effectively.

From my perspective, the way they would have actually ended capitalism was to go to war like Chaos and Order wanted. In this case, the entire social order and way of life for Nua would have been overturned. The main characters, Fitzroy most vocally, reject this option because of the human toll (or elves, or dwarves...whatever the term for that is for D&D races). Instead, they disturb the system to expose its flaws and let society recognize said flaws in the background. (Again, they couldn’t focus too much on it as it would take away from focus on the main characters.) Then, they choose to find their own place in the system and fix it from within.

I’m not surprised that the McElroys would pick the “change the flawed system from within” route over the “use continuous and possibly violent action to force rapid social change” route in the end. While the second stance could work if written correctly, there’s a lot more room for the message conveyed to be catastrophically bad if the writing doesn’t work. I’m personally glad that the McElroys, who don’t have a solution, presented the tamer first take instead of trying to give a solution with the second take and failing spectacularly.

TAZ: Grad was social commentary on the problems of late stage capitalistic society, but it never tries to present a clear answer on how to end this society. Rather, it recognizes that this is a problem that can’t be solved by one small group of people. It presents several possible solutions to navigate this society to bring yourself happiness within this soul crushing system while slowly changing the attitude of the society. After all, if everyone quietly changed societal attitudes for the better, then perhaps one day the population will be united enough to bring about the drastic social change that we all hope for.

#taz: graduation #taz grad #fitzroy maplecourt #argo keene #taz firbolg #SHUT UP JESSICA #this is the kind of analysis i do with media when im bored #except none of my friends that i share my bad takes with know about taz grad so #its your problem now

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hela-avenger · 3 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- 9a

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2177

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Ok so I started to write this and then had to go back to edit it and then I added more and then it was all just angst and it was just getting so long and I couldn’t fix it. ANYWHO, the Halloween special will now be two parts. I’m really hoping it won’t be three but we shall have to wait and see.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Please be safe out there!

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Loki refrained from groaning as he stepped into the jet that would take them back to the Tower. Sam and Bucky were fighting over the pilot seat while Wanda was chattering loudly about the costume she had managed to find for herself and Vision. Loki catches your eye and he can tell you wish to speak to him. He doesn’t allow you the chance as he storms out of the seating area in preference of the solitude found in the back.

The quinjet finally sets out of the compound and Loki manages to survive the short ride without being pulled into whatever conversation you wish to have with him. You most likely wanted to know the truth behind what you had revealed previously. An answer he would refuse to give you.

Loki is almost cornered by you in the arrival at the tower but by sheer luck, you are called away by the AI allowing Loki to peacefully make his way down to his residential floor. The peace he had in mind at the return of his familiar abode is disrupted at the sight of Thor waiting for him there.

Loki’s annoyance grows at the sight of his brother regaled in his Asgardian armor swinging Mjolnir with ease.

“Welcome back, brother.”

Loki just grunts in response as he tries to maneuver around the big oaf.

“I went ahead and prepared your armor for the party tonight,” Thor continues with a smile. “It should be a merry night full of drinking and dancing. We should thoroughly enjoy it.”

“I’m not going to that party.”

“Why not?”

“Because I refuse to partake in Midgardian celebrations.”

“I would think you would enjoy this one, Loki. It’s all about mischief and magic.”

Loki rubs his eyes tiredly.

“I am quite tired, brother. I am in no mood for festivities.”

“You never are,” Thor states, forcing Loki to stop right outside his bedroom door. “You always hide out here and avoid having any fun. You’ve been here for months, Loki, and you have failed to participate in any way or form to enjoy humanity.”

“I hate this place,” Loki responds. “Why would I try to find some silver lining?”

“If that is the case then perhaps I should report to father that you have made no progress and have you sent back home.”

That definitely deepens the foul mood Loki was already in.

“If I go to this party will you refrain from reporting to father?”

Thor thinks for a few seconds before relenting.

“Yes, I would.”

“Great, good,” Loki mutters as he slips into the darkness of his room. “I’m not wearing my armor though.”

“Then what will you wear?”

Loki doesn’t respond promptly slamming the door closed to Thor’s face.

The lab was as pristine and proper as the day before you had come in and destroyed it. The wall had been repaired and the equipment that had been easily thrown before was now bolted to the ground. You let out a sigh as you try to forget that dark moment of your life when you had turned against your friends for no reason.

You still couldn’t remember what happened but it still shook you to the very core. The truth was something everyone valued and yet you had overlooked the darkness it could truly hold. Lying didn’t seem so bad now and you miss having the simple ability.

Shaking yourself from that thought, you scanned the rest of the room looking for the man of the hour.

The moment the jet landed at the tower you were promptly told by FRIDAY that Tony requested your presence in the lab.

You tried to make a quick stop towards the Asgardian floor but the AI had overlooked your floor request in preference of following its creator’s demand.

The lab remained silent after you came in. FRIDAY had announced your presence but Tony was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself being watched but could find no one. You were starting to grow paranoid which didn’t help when a loud bang resonated nearby.

Your head snaps towards the source of the crash and you relax when you realize it’s just Dum-E hitting against the nearby desk.

“Oh Dum-E, I thought I was…”

“BOO!”

You jump at the sudden shout behind you. Out of pure instinct, you throw your hands in front of you causing your gauntlets to shoot out two straight lines of energy. The beams scorch two black spots on the recently repaired wall.

“Well that’s new.”

You turn around and glare at Tony.

“What the hell, Tony!” you shout at him. “I could have killed you.”

Tony chuckles in response and is quick to apologize.

“Sorry, kid,” he answers. “Didn’t realize you were Iron Man 2.0.”

You roll your eyes at him and laugh sarcastically at him.

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” you joke. “These things are the only reason I have some semblance of control.”

“Let me see them.”

You raise your hands and show him the golden gauntlets.

“Interesting design,” he mutters as he grabs a hold of them, turning them around back and forth. “I’m assuming the stones are important by their placement. I wonder what they’re made of. Carbon-based, maybe? Rare space jewel? I would have to run some tests…”

“Yeah, not possible,” you comment. “I can’t take these off. Things could go very wrong.”

Tony scowls as he lets your hands go.

“Can’t risk it for a few minutes?” Tony asks. “I’m sure I could improve them for a nicer aesthetic and easier mobility.”

“Tony…”

“Come on,” he nudges. “You don’t see me wearing my blasters because they’re comfortable. It’ll only be a few minutes. Five tops.”

You hesitate and Tony pesters on.

“Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do if you have to wear those atrocities for the rest of your life.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before relenting.

“Just be careful with the stones and be quick, please,” you plead at him. “I don’t wish to have a repeat of my last mishaps.”

Tony snorts as he helps you slide the gauntlets off your hands.

“Heard about that,” he snickers. “A little birdie told me and by birdie, I obviously mean Sam.”

You laugh and shake your head at him watching as he steps towards his desk and pulls out an array of files into the screen. He flips through them quickly before stopping at one.

Pepper Gift Ideas.

“Um, Tony?”

He ignores you as he opens the file up and scatters out the multiple designs he’s sketched out. You’re shocked at the multiple documents in the file but don’t have the chance to inspect them closely as Tony finds the one he was looking for.

“Here it is,” he states as he picks the design and throws it onto the screen next to his equipment. “What do you think, kid?”

“Oh, wow,” you whisper as you look at the design on display. “That’s beautiful.”

“Was tinkering for a while about making Pepper her own jewelry,” Tony responds beside you. “But she never wears what I get her.”

“I’m sure she would wear this,” you tell him. “Are you sure you want to use this design on me?”

Tony is quick to nod.

“You’ve been dealt a shitty hand with this power,” Tony answers honestly. “I just want to make things better for you in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you tell him, heartfelt at his generosity. “Really, thank you.”

Tony clears his throat from the rising emotion and looks away. He picks up your gauntlet and begins to disassemble them.

“Now go away,” he mutters. “Let me work in peace.”

“You told me it would only be five minutes.”

“Well I lied. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

You roll your eyes at him and Tony simply smirks.

“I’ll have them done soon, I promise, so why don’t you go ahead and find your partner in crime, Natasha. She’s got your costume in her room.”

You hesitate but you’ve already done your daily exercises to tire your powers out. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least that’s what you hoped for.

You wince at the sharp tug of your hair. You glare at Natasha through the mirror but she simply smirks in response. You had no choice when it came to getting ready for this impromptu Halloween party. Natasha dragged you into her room the moment you showed up at her door.

You didn’t mind her help for the party. In fact, you were glad to have it as the redhead went above and beyond to have everything ready for you. From the costume to the hair and makeup, Natasha had arranged it all. All you had to do was sit there and allow her to make her vision into a reality.

Though you would use this time to catch up with your close friend, your mind was far away at the moment.

Ever since your last lesson, Loki had avoided you like the plague. Any attempt of trying to apologize to him was somehow thwarted by Loki himself or some outside force. It didn’t help that Tony’s impromptu invitation and the jet that followed severed any chance of forcing him to see you.

You felt guilty.

You had crossed a line by revealing something he wasn’t ready to when all he had done was help you. You needed to apologize and you needed to do it soon.

“Ok, spill it.”

You look up at Natasha’s pointed stare and sigh.

“I can’t hide anything, can I?” you mutter tiredly. Nat tugs on your hair again and you hiss at the action. “I’m fine, Nat. Just trying to settle my mind.”

“Of what?”

You take a deep breath debating whether it was a good idea to tell her of your past week with Loki.

Nat despised him with every fiber of her being, but you… you didn’t.

“Loki’s been a great teacher considering I’m a ticking time bomb...”

“But?” Nat interrupts.

“But,” you repeat with a huff. “I keep ruining everything with this stupid power.”

“You?” Nat asks, confused. “You ruined everything? Not him?”

“Nat…”

“I’m sorry,” she sarcastically laughs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh. “If you just let me explain…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and turn away from the mirror to look at Natasha directly.

“I have invaded everyone’s privacy. I’ve learned things I have no right knowing and revealed things without permission. You already know how guilty I felt because of it,” you explain. “Yet, Loki wasn’t one of them. He’s immune to my power as I am to his but I recently crossed a line and uncovered something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“What was it?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

Natasha huffs in response but shrugs her curiosity off.

“So?” she asks. “What’s wrong then?”

“I feel really bad about it, Nat, and he’s avoiding me and I just want to apologize to him because I invaded his privacy but he won’t even let me get close to him to do it.”

“He doesn’t need an apology,” Nat scoffs. “He’s a grown man. He can lick up his wounds and move on.”

You’re starting to regret confiding in her about your situation but Loki has yet to teach you how to evade telling the truth without necessarily resorting to lying.

“I apologized to you and everyone after my first outburst,” you remind her. “You didn’t need me to but I’m sure it helped.”

Natasha lets out a breath but she knew you had a point.

“Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

She’s being honest with her opinion but you don’t feel the same way.

“I think differently,” you answer. “I think it’s been a long time since Loki’s been treated with some kindness.”

Natasha's eyes narrow down at you.

“Do you…” she hesitates. “What exactly is your relationship with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you acquaintances? Friends? Or is it more?”

You’re surprised at the question.

“I guess we’re friends?” you answer unsurely. “Mentor and student seems weird so yeah… friends.”

Natasha seems unconvinced but she doesn’t speak up on it. Instead, she motions you to face forward again so she could finish up with your hair.

“So do you think I’ll have time to slip out to apologize or am I going to have to wait until the party?”

Nat can’t avoid the snort from escaping her promptly earning her a confused look from you.

“Loki doesn’t go to the parties,” she tells you. “Not since I could remember.”

“Then why did he come with us in the jet?”

“Maybe because he has to monitor you and we have to monitor him?”

Nat’s right but you can only hope that Loki might prove her wrong.

“If he’s there… apologize to him,” Nat tells you hoping to ease the scowl that was settling on your face. “Just don’t expect him to forgive you. He’s not apologetic, far less forgiving.”

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,998

Chapter Warnings: swearing, blood, violence, injury, threatened death, sui.cidal ideation, mind control, manipulation, victim blaming

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur makes a desperate choice.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Twenty: dark into the heat

No. No, no, no, he needs to ignore it. He knows better than to listen, knows better than—

He can feel it. He can feel it poking around in his mind. He can feel it again. And it knows he can feel it. It knows, and it’s smug about it. It’s smug because it knows he hates the sensation, feels violated by it, and it likes that, likes the power it has over him. His stomach lurches, and he staggers. Purpled watches him, advancing slowly.

But no. No, he can’t give in, can’t let it distract him. He can’t.

“What’s it offering you?” he gasps out. He tries to stand straighter, but the world around him wavers and ripples, and not just in the heat. He can feel it, feel it still, though it has not yet spoken again. It is going to. It is going to, going to speak to him with honeyed words and dripping promises, going to coax and persuade and worm its way inside, and knowing that it’s coming doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

Only time will tell whether it makes it easier to resist.

Purpled shrugs, still approaching. Once he attacks again, he’s done for. He can’t fight off Purpled on a good day, much less now.

“Money,” Purpled says. “I mean, what else? It’s a job.”

And the way he says it is as if—

“It’s not controlling you,” he says, and wonders how he didn’t realize it before. Purpled looks completely unchanged. No part of him has faded to white or deepened to red, and his voice holds none of the fanatic edge that the Egg’s followers possess. “It’s just paying you.”

“I don’t like the thought of being mind controlled,” Purpled agrees. “But I do like being paid. So, like I said, sorry. But I’ve taken the job.”

“I’ll double whatever they’re paying you to switch sides,” he says. “Or not even switch sides, if you don’t want. Just stay out of it. Don’t attack me and mine. Leave.”

Purpled tilts his head. He’s listening. Good. His grip on his sword does not relax, but he pauses in his approach.

“How do I know you’re good for it?” he asks.

“I’m good for it because my brother is Technoblade,” he says. “You know, the Blood God? Nigh on impossible to defeat in combat, one of the richest people on the server? He honors the agreements he makes, and I, as his brother, can make one for him. You’ll get your money.”

“So the money’s not even yours,” Purpled says. “But—Technoblade, you say? And you just want me to stay out of it?” He pauses. “Triple it and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done.”

And just like that, Purpled nods. There may be some measure of relief in his face; Wilbur isn’t sure. But perhaps Purpled was never all that comfortable taking orders from the thing, money or no. But Purpled nods, and Purpled moves toward the exit, and Jack, at least, notices, and shouts, “Traitor!” Some of the vines spring to life, attempting to stop him from leaving. But Purpled slices through them easily enough, with a practiced and steady hand, and then he’s vanishing up the corridor.

He didn’t expect it to be that easy.

(but at the end of the day, mercenary or not, isn’t Purpled still a child, too? a teenager caught up in forces beyond his control, just trying to make it through to another day? perhaps he was looking for an out all along, and if that is the case, he is more than happy to give him one, and not just for his own sake)

You have always been clever, the Egg says, always been quick with your words and quick to spin a deal in your favor, quick to have them all dancing to your tune, so very quick to use whatever power you have, so very quick, but you know better than to thank yourself for it, know better than to believe that it lends you superiority, and you know better than to believe that this is a victory at all, know better than to believe you have accomplished anything. What is your plan, Wilbur Soot? What blow do you seek to strike against me?

He shakes his head. It’s digging deeper, like a swarm of stinging hornets crawling in his skull. He takes a few clumsy steps forward, begging his blurry vision to resolve. It doesn’t, not quite, but he can see well enough to know what’s happening, to see that Jack and Niki are concentrated on their attack, that Tubbo is vicious in his counters and Tommy is halfhearted, and Fundy—where is Fundy—?

There, a few feet away, crouched on the ground, hands on his ears. The whites of his eyes are visible, and he rocks back and forth slightly. “Shut up,” he says, barely audible, “shut up, no, no, I’m not listening to you, leave me alone—”

He sees red for a different reason.

“Stop it,” he rasps. “Stop it. Leave him be, leave them all be.”

They are with me because I give them everything they want, everything they dream, and if your little wonder, your little champion joins my ranks then it is because you have failed him, because you cannot give him the love he deserves, and that is no one’s fault but yours, ash child, the Egg says, and he nearly doubles over with the force of it, with the truth of it.

(no, no, not truth, not truth, because here before you is a true monster the true villain the true enemy and it lies and manipulates as part of its nature and you can feel its claws in you and you should not think that just because it agrees with your own warped perception of yourself that it is right because you are just beginning to learn that perhaps you are not right yourself not right about yourself and remember what Phil told you, about healing and deserving)

But then, the Egg keeps on, isn’t that better to think about, isn’t that nicer than to imagine his blood spilling across my roots, for I am hungry and I will be fed, and if not with your boy’s blood then with that of someone else but is it not better to imagine him becoming one with me and mine, for is it not better to offer him up to me than to lose him?

(no)

“I’d lose him either way,” he says. “Don’t fuck with me, I’d lose—I’d be losing him just as surely.”

And perhaps he’s already lost him. Perhaps his son no longer wants a father at all. But even if that is the case, he will be damned before he allows the Egg to take him. So he lurches forward again. Draws his bow from his inventory. Fires off a shot. He’s not even thinking about it, really, but he fires off a shot, and he aims it for Jack Manifold

(and he can’t remember the last time he saw Jack Manifold, but he vaguely thinks that he may have taken one of his lives as well, maybe, in the heat and the rush of things, and he can’t remember whether it was a mistake or on purpose but neither matters right now)

and it flies wide. He doesn’t see where it lands. He nocks another arrow to the string. His hands shake. Niki drives Tubbo back with a ferocious flurry of attacks, and Jack is on Tommy, and if he doesn’t do something about this, there will be blood spilled here. Blood watering the roots.

You know you could stop this, the Egg says, you know that it is within your power, for I have offered you everything, everything you desire, and I shall give you fire and I shall give you rest and I shall give you your brother’s safety assured and he will not be harmed by me and mine and we shall look after him, for now and for always, he shall be mine as all creatures must be or perish but he shall be safe, and you can rest knowing you have done everything and have everything you want in the end, and it can all be yours and you know this.

“Shut up,” he says. “Shut up.” Just a few more steps. Why does he feel so far from them when he’s only a few steps away? Just a few more steps and he can join the battle, can drive them back and away from those he’s sworn to protect,

(but these were his countrymen and he swore to protect them too and now look at them all children in a war that spiraled out of their control and never ended the soldiers never coming home because there was no home to return to and so the soldiers keep on marching on and they cannot learn to put their weapons down because there is no place to let them rest and no assurance of safety and the war continues whether seen or unseen and the soldiers keep on marching on)

and he can draw his sword even though his swordplay has never been his strongest suit.

Except, no, he needs to use the sword for something else, needs to—the Egg has to be the priority, because if he destroys the Egg, then this will all come to a close, and—

Then you have a choice to make, child of flames and of destruction, the Egg says, and it sounds terribly, horribly amused, and he can’t help but clutch the side of his head as it seems to laugh at him, awful and grating, like his skull has fractured and the shards are being driven into his brain. You have a choice to make, and shall you try to save the ones you hold dear and shall your efforts be fruitless, or shall you raise your hand against me, shall you defy that which you know you seek, that which you know you love, shall you raise a hand against me and fail again, shall you call yourself child of failure and lay your impotency bare.

And then, the Egg stops.

I see, it says. You have a sword.

He inhales sharply.

(it’s in your head and it knows it knows it knows your mind is its for the taking and now it knows)

Niki draws back from Tubbo, face twisting. Tubbo comes to stand beside Tommy again, protectiveness screaming in every line of his stance. Even Jack pauses, and Fundy looks up at him, tears in his eyes, shoulders shaking.

Tommy is staring at him, on his face a dawning dismay.

A sword blessed by the universe and granted by the shell of what was once a god, the Egg says, and suddenly, Wilbur can feel—something else. Something through the Egg, something else looking at him, aware of him. Something that feels like the Egg, but isn’t quite, and he thinks—it’s Dream. Dream is watching, though Dream is blocks away, fighting a battle of his own. A sword meant to destroy the void stuff, the darkness, the corruption, a sword you believe will avail you.

It speaks, and the whole room can hear it. Its voice reverberates in more minds than just his.

You are a thing of dust and ash and soot, and the name you chose for yourself was a prophesy, the Egg says, and you may pretend to have the strength to raise your steel high and drive it against me, you may pretend, but I know you better than you know yourself and I know that even if you had the strength, you would fail, because you have a choice to make and there is only one correct path, only one way out for you, only one way, and you will see it, and you will take it, and what use will your sword be, then?

“You talk a big game for something that the universe itself has sided against,” he says, rather proud of himself for stringing such a coherent sentence together, even while he desperately searches for what the Egg means, what it’s talking about. Because this is a trap, he knows. Likely intended for him. But what the Egg means by a choice, he has no clue, unless it means the choice it’s been trying to get him to make all along, but—

And then, as one, Niki and Jack move. Jack dives for Tubbo, catching him off guard, and there is a terrible snap as Tubbo hits the ground, and Tubbo screams. Tommy shouts, and Wilbur curses, trying to aim for Jack, but there’s too much movement, too much that could go wrong if he misses, because Jack has got Tubbo pinned down, still screaming, each scream interspersed with curses, and Jack doesn’t look like his weight could possible keep Tubbo there, but somehow, all his struggles accomplish nothing. And even as he and Tommy both move forward to help, and even as Fundy seems to be shaking himself out of his stupor, Niki launches herself forward and puts her blade to Tommy’s throat.

And everything goes still.

A choice, the Egg repeats. And Wilbur understands.

“I want to kill him now,” Niki says, her eyes locked on the Egg. And then she scowls, whatever the Egg tells her not for the ears of anyone else, but while she presses the blade further against Tommy’s bare throat, drawing a thin line of blood, she does not cut down. “A choice, then,” she repeats, shifting her gaze to him, and her expression is something like anger and something like defeat. “I wonder if you even know how to make the right one.”

“Let me go,” Tubbo is saying, between sobs. Something is surely broken, but Wilbur can’t get a good enough look to see what. And moving closer may very well spell Tommy’s demise. “Fuck you, let me go, let him go.”

“Just, fuck, just settle down, would you?” Jack demands. “This’ll all be over soon.”

Niki is still watching him.

You have no control here, no power, and here is the choice.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says. His voice trembles. He swallows, and the action pushes his skin just slightly closer to the blade’s edge. More blood trickles down. “Wilbur, you—what is it asking you?”

But he says it like someone who already knows.

(and his brother has a sword to his throat and still seems more concerned for him than for himself and it breaks his heart just as it always does again and again and again)

You may strike your blow, you may take your shot, and no one here will impede your path, and if that is your choice then so be it, the Egg says, but know that should that be, your brother will fall and his blood will sustain me, and behind you his life will fade away even as you toss him aside to strike at me, but it does not have to be this way, void seeker. It does not have to be this way, and you can make the right choice, and the peace you want will be yours, and your brother will live.

He draws in a breath. The beginnings of a plan hatch in his mind. Desperate, crazy—but then, what up to this point hasn’t been? He’s out of options, has let himself be outplayed, and he can’t even let himself think about this too hard, or else it will pluck the idea straight from his mind and it will all be for naught. But he has to try.

There really is only one choice to make.

Tommy’s expression changes.

“No,” he says, “no, no, no, whatever you’re thinking, don’t you fucking do it, don’t you—it’ll be alright, it’ll be alright, I swear, just kill the thing, just kill it, don’t, don’t worry about me, don’t” —He takes in a shuddering, gasping breath, and when he continues, he’s no longer talking to Wilbur— “don’t hurt them, please, you can have me, you can, but don’t hurt them, you can’t, and, and Tubbo, Tubbo, it’s gonna be okay, ‘cause, ‘cause you’re still yourself without me too, and it’s gonna be, it’s gonna be, just, please, Wil, please don’t—”

“Tommy,” he says, and Tommy falls silent. Tubbo does too. They’re all looking at him, and he can’t look at any of their faces for too long, Tubbo’s scrunched up in pain and anger and Fundy’s open wide, almost childlike in his—disbelief, perhaps. He can’t look at their faces, because that makes it hurt worse.

The Egg doesn’t say anything. Nothing he can hear, at least. But it’s waiting. And it feels victorious.

“Tommy,” he says again, “Tubbo. Fundy.”

He breathes in. And out.

“Sometimes things are never meant to be,” he says, and he doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but he lets them flow. “Sometimes things are destined to end even from the very beginning.”

“Wilbur, please—”

“But not this. Not us.” He pauses. “Do you trust me?”

Tommy’s face crumples. He doesn’t respond. Fundy takes in a long, shaky breath, and for a moment, that’s all he can hear. No one really answers him, and he supposes that in the end, that’s an answer in and of itself.

But that’s alright.

He turns to the Egg.

“Our deal,” he says. “The one you offered me. I want it extended. I want everyone in this room alive and safe.”

Everyone in this room. That includes Niki. That includes Jack. Because they were his countrymen, and he owes them this much. Owes them his best effort, even when his best effort once meant their destruction.

(because they were once his countrymen and they were once his friends, and what a picture they make now, and what a picture they made then, back in the summer heat with the walls high and proud around them, as they messed with a camera in their military uniforms, smiling and laughing and free, and it is easy for him to forget that L’Manberg was something beautiful once but it was, it was, it was, and they were beautiful too, and the world was laid at their feet, and they took that photo and he wonders where all the copies went, whether any still exist or whether they all went up in flames, and they were six then and they are six now, the same six, and how bitter and twisted they have all become, how far from that hazy memory of peace they all are)

(and how fitting, perhaps, that it should be the six of them here and only these six, here where it all will come to a close one way or the other, ending just as it began on that sunny summer’s day)

“Wilbur, stop—”

It is nothing to me, the Egg says, and he can feel it, still, can feel it pressing in around him, ready to swamp him, ready to pull him under, and he can hear the whispers, too, just the same as they have always been, whispering fire, whispering death, and he can feel himself begin to lean into them already, can feel himself tempted, can feel his own longing.

And he can still feel, beyond the Egg, Dream watching. Waiting. Considering.

“Fine, then,” he says, and traps his last apology under his tongue. “A deal.”

And he lets the static claim him.

It rushes in around him, and the red dives in eagerly, filling out all the corners of his mind, all the spaces and all the cracks, and he remembers this, remembers this sensation from before, remembers how the Egg coaxed him, persistent and careful, and this is not quite like that, because then, it was like a siren singing a victim to a willing drowning, and now, it as if the entire ocean has opened over his head, a red sea.

There you are, and it is a homecoming, isn’t it, the Egg croons, and his breath stutters in his chest, and I know what you want, I know you long for the fire’s murmurs and the explosion that you once caused and the end of your symphony, forever unfinished, and you were wrested back to this world so cruelly and without your permission, and you do not want to be here, you long for the darkness and the rest of the void, you wish for it with every fiber of your being and you only need listen to me and you can have it.

Yes. He’s having a hard time remembering why he spent so much effort on resisting. Why he resisted the drumbeats that now ring out in his head, a rhythm of war, of blood and of fire, a rhythm that will send him to sleep, if he lets it, and he wants to let it, because the Egg says it is so, and he has let it in, has let it take him over, and the Egg is right. The Egg is right.

(the Egg says it is so, and the Egg must be right, feels right, right like nothing he has ever felt before, but so then why does he)

Come forward, then, and let me grant to you what is yours, the Egg commands, and his feet step forward, once, twice, three times, taking him closer. Behind him, someone is sobbing.

“Wil,” someone whispers, and it sounds like his son. He doesn’t turn around.

Your mind is laid bare to me, and all that you are is mine, the Egg says. I can read your plan, and you thought you could fool me, could take yourself close with none the wiser and break free of my guidance, break free of me and strike before harm could befall your brother, but you cannot be free, because you do not want to be free, because I am giving you everything you want. Did you think you could do as you did before and claw yourself away from me using thoughts of your brother? There is nothing there to use, for I have assured his safety, and you know that.

He does know that. He’s pretty sure that was indeed his plan,

(was it?)

but why shouldn’t the Egg know it now? The Egg is going to give him everything, is going to give him what he could have had before if he was not taken from the room as he was, and now that he is with it again, beating in his mind, a consistent pounding pulse, he feels that jubilation fill him, a hot, heady joy, settling sickly sweet in his gut.

This is right. This is how it was always going to happen. This was meant to be. And the Egg is right; it will be a homecoming, in more ways than one. The void awaits him, and with the Egg curling around him, almost smothering him, he remembers how badly he wants to answer the void’s call, how badly he wants to be dead again, because he made himself an ending and never asked for the story to restart, and it’s unfair that more has been demanded of him.

You played your part, and they were fools to think that you could ever be anything better than what you were, the Egg whispers. You have not changed from the bitter thing you became, and they could not have expected more from you, should not have thought that this would end in any other way, because the void hums like a siren and you want to go, and I will take you there, and you will bleed out before me and feel peace at last and nothing more will be wanted of you. Drop your totem.

Ah, yes, his totem. The one that Techno gave him. He summons it from his inventory, feels its weight against his palm, cold and solid. Its emerald eyes gleam up at him. And then, he goes to drop it, as the Egg says. Somehow, he ends up tossing it over his shoulder instead, rather hard. He’s not sure where it lands. He doesn’t look.

Dream watches. Dream feels—smug. He ignores him. The Egg is what matters.

People are still talking to him. Crying, maybe, but it’s all fallen away, become white noise. There is him, and the Egg, and what the Egg will give him, as long as he does exactly as it commands him. It is as a god, and he is as its vassal, and that is what he’s always striven for.

You love to be useful, the Egg agrees, will abase yourself to anyone to earn your worthiness to live.

(Phil’s voice, steady, sure, and loved: you don’t need to do anything to be worthy of love, you don’t need to do anything to deserve to take care of yourself)

And I know you, the Egg continues, better than you have known yourself. You wanted the fire, wanted to see it all burn around you, and the glee that filled you when you pressed that button was like none you had ever felt.

(no, that’s wrong)

And that same glee again, when you had your father run your sword through your chest, and how eager you were to die, and how eager you are now, how eager, how eager, and you are the same creature you were then, at your core.

(wrong, something about what it’s saying is wrong because these are thoughts he’s had himself so very often but)

A few steps more, and he’s standing next to the Egg. Close enough to touch it. He almost wants to, but doesn’t, something holding him back.

His head pounds. Throbs. Each breath comes as a struggle, though why he’s trying so hard, he doesn’t know.

And you are mine, the Egg croons, my creature now, and I can do with you as I will, but I will give you what you seek so desperately, can you feel it?

He can. He can feel it, the red, soothing as it always has been, and every inch of him cries out for it, cries out for what he

(but does he?)

wants.

And you shall have it, the Egg says. You shall have it.

They’re all calling to him. All of them, but Tommy most of all, calling his name, begging him to stop. He doesn’t turn, even now. Part of him wants to, but when he thinks about it, the Egg pulses in his mind, burning him, expressing displeasure, and he won’t go against what the Egg wants, not when it is about to gift him everything, not when it understands him so well. So he does not turn, and—distantly, he thinks that this was the idea. To use Tommy to pull himself out again, just as he did before. But it won’t work this time, because Tommy is going to be safe. The Egg has sworn that he will be unharmed.

You never had a hope of resisting me, the Egg says, as I know you as no one else does, and I know what you want, and you shall have it now.

Vines creep around his ankles, slide around his legs, his arms. And one rests around his neck, lightly, but he can feel the thorns. They’re a caress, an embrace,

(but you know what an embrace is like and this is not that you know that this is not that because en embrace is Phil’s wings or Tommy’s face in your shoulder or Techno gripping your shoulders and pulling you in and you know better you know better)

a promise.

(but something isn’t right and your mind stirs and there is disquiet hesitation that even the red cannot drown out)

You wanted fire and to let it all burn down around you, and you wanted it all to end, and if you cannot have the fire again, your fire you so love, if you cannot dance victorious on the wreckage then you will have the dark.

The vines tighten. And through the red, Wilbur realizes what’s wrong.

(because here is a secret you keep locked away: you love the fire not for what it is, but for what it granted you, for the ending so desired, but the fear has never left you, the fear instilled in your veins the first time your country went up in a blaze and your people fell around you and it was no game, and here is the second secret: you fear the fire, and at the last, you decided you deserved to die afraid)

(it all comes down to deserving)

It’s difficult to think. Difficult to wade through the red haze, but this—this is important, because the Egg is going—is going to give him what he wants, so why does it—it’s supposed to understand him, so why—

(it all comes down to deserving, and what he thinks he deserves, and the Egg is in his head, and what is the Egg drawing from if not his own thoughts, but the thing about his thoughts is that they might be)

“That’s not what I wanted,” he whispers. “It’s not what I want.”

The Egg presses in further, and he can feel it in his head, pulling at his thoughts, at his emotions, telling him that he is wrong, that this is what he wants, but he stands his ground, because—his head’s a mess, but he—he doesn’t—

(Phil’s voice again, careful and sad and gentle and kind, because for all his father’s faults he has never doubted that he loves him, and Phil’s voice says, remember that you do deserve better things, and there’s an implication in there that Phil thinks that what he believes he deserves is wrong, and he hasn’t really had time to think that over, but)

The vine tightens around his throat. The thorns dig into his skin. Not breaking it, not yet.

“You’re offering me what I think I deserve,” he says, and it’s like coming up for air, if only for a moment, and finding that the sky is still blue. For a second, he exists outside of himself, outside of the hooks the Egg has dug into him, and he can experience its presence for the horror that it is. And then the red takes him again, and he’s drowning, suffocating, his lungs full of syrup, and the Egg is unhappy, and part of him wants to grovel and apologize and do anything to be sure that he receives his due, and the Egg speaks again and rakes its voice across his body, and he shudders violently.

Then what is it that you think you want? it asks, and it is angry and it is patronizing, and it is pushing up against him, twisting him, forcing him to agree with it, to believe its words, and half of him does and the other half comes up for air again, bobbing in the open ocean, sharks circling, and that gives him just enough room to consider the question, to truly consider it.

What does he want?

(freedom, once, freedom and choice and a place to call his, a place where he and his loved ones would be safe, and he built the walls as both practicality and symbol, and he wanted to protect, wanted to lead, wanted a land that was good and a land that was free)

If he could have anything, anything at all, what would he—

You want rest, the Egg hisses, and you know it, know that you are the villain and you deserve death, and you want rest and you want peace, to be released from this world that is cruel and corrupt and full of darkness, to be released from your responsibilities, you want rest and I will give it to you—

Yes, perhaps, but

(Tommy smiles at him with sunlight in his hair and in his eyes and Tubbo grins sharp and sure and Fundy is with him and no longer regards him with hatred and Techno has a book in his hand and his voices are quiet and Phil stares on and his posture is straight and not bent with guilt and with pain)

(and he is with them, and he has so far to go, but he is happy)

(and if he puts all of himself aside, puts aside his self-loathing and his fears, puts aside all the harm he knows he has done and all of the punishment he knows he still deserves, then that is what he’s always wanted, isn’t it? his family with him, the days stretching on, and here is a realization, breaking like the dawn itself: he hasn’t ever thought that he deserves to be happy, but he wants it, he wants it, he wants it, just as he wants to be a better man, he wants to be happy again, he wants, even if he doesn’t deserve he wants)

he has always wanted rest. Since coming back, he has wanted rest. But he is still here.

He decided to be better, and perhaps he’s not doing a very good job of it in any sense of the word, but he decided, and he’s sticking to it, and that is what he wants. More than death, he wants another chance.

He wants to stay. Not only for other people, but for himself, too. He wants to stay, and he wants to stay more than he wants to die.

Admitting as much lifts a weight from his chest, one that he hadn’t known was there at all.

Then I shall give you that, as well, the Egg says, and for the first time, he hears it: desperation. Slowly, surely, the red begins to clear, leaving him with shaking limbs and a headache that makes it difficult to focus, but the Egg’s voice is no longer so welcoming, the red no longer so appealing, and he hurts, and he hears Tommy’s broken protests, Tubbo’s sobs, Fundy’s whimpering, he can hear them, and they tug at his heartstrings where only a moment before, he ignored them, so sure of his course as he was, so sure of his course as it made him.

He’s pulled himself out. He pulled himself out, and he did it himself, with shaking, bloody fingers, and he hasn’t climbed back over the top of the cliff yet, but he’s hanging on. He’s hanging on. He’s stopped his fall.

(and he doesn’t know what healing is doesn’t know what it is to be better but perhaps here, now, he can admit to himself that being better includes being better to himself, too, and he has never allowed himself to think as much before but perhaps it is truth, and perhaps he can let himself hope, and what a time it is to finally come to this conclusion but something of truth rings in it and he knows that this is right)

They will be happy, the Egg says, and they will be alive, and I will keep them safe, and you will be happy as well, and you will have what you desire.

The words are like hands, pulling on him. But he can recognize as much. Recognize the sensation, slimy and insidious, of something else trying to change his thoughts, trying to reach in and change him. The ground beneath his feet feels more stable now, his footing found at last. He almost let himself slip. Almost, but he’s found footholds, handholds, and he did it himself, and that feels important.

“You and Dream are the same,” he murmurs, and he can feel it paying attention, feel it wanting to know what he’s about to say. And beyond it, somewhere further away, he thinks he can still sense Dream looking, too, Dream watching him, listening to them. “You’re always so eager to talk. So certain that you’re right. But you’re too prideful, and that’s the end of you.” He summons his best glare. Plants his feet. Playing his hand like this is not wise, but somehow, he knows that the Egg will let him finish, will let him get to the end of his speech before trying anything. It wants to know. Even now, it is prideful, sure it can contain him, that he will not be able to harm it. “Even knowing what my plan was, you let me get close. You assumed you could overwhelm me. You thought I’d be yours. And for a minute, you did. I was. But do you want to know what your biggest mistake was?”

The vine around his neck tightens.

“Even when you knew you were losing me, you still let me talk,” he finishes, and in one movement, drops the sword into his hand

(and he can hear the universe again, can hear it humming, vibrating against his skin, and he burns with it)

and slices through the vine before it can strangle him. In the next second, he drives it forward, putting all his weight behind it, and shoves it into the Egg.

It slides in like a knife through butter, and several things happen at once.

Behind him: chaos. Chaos that he can only hear and not see, but several people shout, and then Jack Manifold cries out, and there is another clash of metal, and then Tommy shouts, not in pain but rather a loud, wordless denial, and there is a great cracking sound, like the air tearing itself apart, and the golden flash reflects off even the Egg’s surface, and the room crackles like ozone, like a bend in reality, and it is the activation of a totem, and he can only hope that it will be enough.

And the Egg screams.

It is like a thousand voices crying out in a thousand discordant notes, like several hundred orchestras all out of tune in different ways, like a shriek of violins and a moan of tubas and the drums stutter and falter and tap out infinitely different rhythms until it’s all a clanging, howling mess of static and white noise and still, something screaming, something old and powerful and terrible in its death throes.

He screams too, he thinks. He can’t hear himself anymore. Can barely feel himself, though he tries to tighten his fingers on the hilt of the sword.

At the edge of his perception, the universe encroaches. Humming, humming, and for a second, they harmonize with him, and in that second, the universe says,

(you did well, and now look, look upon your adversary and know what they are, know the darkness and the corruption and the rot and the sickness)

And he does look, and he sees

(the Egg indeed is not an Egg and for this second, for this one moment in time and out of time, he sees it for what it is, something incomprehensible, something existing against all the laws of the world, all things natural, a blight, a bug, a twist in the code that makes up all things, a virus, and even despite that, it was not done growing, not done gathering strength, and one more sacrifice would have done it, glutted as it was on Dream’s shared power and the blood of the Blood God, one more meal would have done it, and he was close to being that meal, inches away from dying and giving it what it needed to hatch, and perhaps it would have kept its promise, perhaps it would have allowed his loved ones to live, but it would have been no life, no life at all, under the control of a thing that at its core sought to devour worlds)

But the universe says,

(but it is well, it is well, for your strength was enough and you are stronger than you know, and you are worthy and you have come to the beginnings of understanding, and you realize now that you are deserving of the world, that you deserve to live, and you want to live and to make yourself better, and you are deserving of time, and we are with you, and you are not alone, and you have freedom now to make it all right)

A million stars twinkle in his vision, and then, he comes back to himself. There is no more screaming. No more whispering. His head is quiet.

He still holds the sword. But the Egg itself is shriveling, blackening, twisting, collapsing in on itself, and as he watches, it and all its vines become husks, dark and small. He draws the sword out, and the area around it crumbles to dust.

It seems so small. So small, so impotent. But it is a corpse now, he supposes, so that is only right. Relief floods him.

It’s over. At last, it is over. The Egg is gone.

The sword no longer shimmers, no longer shines. The runes are only shapes, now, not glowing, not humming. It has served its purpose; it’s just a sword, now, like any other sword, and he’s tired of holding swords. He never was much good with them anyway. So he puts it back in his inventory, and turns

(and as he does, he catches a glimpse of something in the husk, in the shriveled shell, something impossibly blue, but that can wait)

around, and in that motion, his heart stops beating.

Only for a moment before it starts up again, but its rhythm is stuttering, weak, too quick and too slow by turns. He wonders if that’s something he should be concerned about. He feels no pain, though his body seems rather numb, now that he’s thinking about it. What’s important now, though, is the scene in front of him, because they’re all alive. All of them, alive. Tommy is hugging Tubbo, tightly, like he thinks he’ll disappear, and Tubbo himself glitters with gold, shimmering all around him. He had to use the totem, then.

He tries not to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t thrown it behind him. He’s pretty sure that he was trying to give them a failsafe, even under the Egg’s thrall as he was, but he can’t be sure. Can’t trust his memories of only a few minutes ago, probably.

Niki and Jack are both on the ground, surrounded with dust from the crumbling vines. Their eyes are closed, but their chests rise and fall. They’ll be fine, then, and relief mixes with sorrow; they’re not under the Egg’s control any longer, but he knows better than to think that means all is fixed. Fundy has staggered to his feet, is hovering by Tommy and Tubbo, face still tear-stained.

But he’s fine. He’s okay. They’re all okay.

He lets out a breath, and takes a step forward. It’s more difficult than it should be. Pain flares in his—flares everywhere, actually, his abdomen and chest and limbs, and his head is still killing him, though that much, at least, doesn’t surprise him. But then, it dies down, replaced by the numbness again.

Tommy pulls back from Tubbo. “You ever do something like that again, I’m killing you myself, Tubbo, fuck,” he says, and Tubbo laughs, a little tearfully. And then, Tommy rounds on him. “And you, what the fuck did you think you were doing? How stupid are you?”

“A bit stupid,” he agrees. The words come out slurred. He frowns, and so does Tommy. Or at least, he thinks that he frowns. He can’t feel his face. Tommy is definitely frowning, though, and then Tommy is walking toward him, or stumbling, more like, and then all three of them are.

“Are you good?” Tommy asks. “You’re making weird faces.”

“That was a good throw, with the totem,” Tubbo says, almost at the same time. Where Tommy stands right in front of him, Tubbo goes around to stand at his side, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes, narrowed eyes that flicker with golden light. He’ll crash once the magic burns itself out, though it shouldn’t be nearly as bad as what Techno went through. He keeps rolling his shoulder, flexing his arm, as if shaking out a wound that is no longer there. “Saved my skin, there. But man, that was a risky play.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” Fundy says quietly. “I thought the Egg could read thoughts. I mean, I felt it in my head, man. It was awful. But how come it didn’t know you were pretending?”

“Pretty sure he wasn’t pretending,” Tommy says, and—he wishes he didn’t say that, because now still doesn’t feel like the time to talk to Fundy about any of this, even though he probably should, at one point, because if he’s going to be a better father, he ought to start by telling him things that he wants to know, despite the part of him that still screams to shelter him, screams that he’s not ready to learn about such terrible things, but—he’s grown. Fundy is grown. He needs to work on keeping that in mind.

“I just can’t believe it’s over,” Tommy continues. “Just like that? After the days we’ve had? Feels anti-climatic—”

“Anti-climactic,” Tubbo supplies.

“Oh, piss off. Anti-whatever, it feels all sudden, doesn’t it? Though I suppose there’s still Dream.” Tommy’s face darkens. “Guess we need to go see about everyone else.”

“Uh, Wilbur?” Fundy breaks in, hesitant, but not angry. Not too upset. Perhaps concerned? Is Fundy concerned for him? “Your, um, your nose is bleeding.”

Tommy and Tubbo go silent, and he blinks. Is it? He can’t feel it, can’t feel any blood dripping down, but he can’t seem to move his arm to check. He can’t seem to move anything, actually, and when he opens his mouth, intending to say something—though what, he has no idea—he finds his airway obstructed by something. He coughs, and their faces all go very alarmed.

“Oh, shit, he’s bleeding from his mouth,” Tubbo says, and at the same time, Tommy steps in closer, right up against him, and grabs his shoulders, peering into his face.

“Wil?” he says, and Wilbur would try to respond, he really would, but Tommy’s touch has chased away the numbness, starting at the points of contact and radiating outward and in its wake is—is too much, too much to think about, too much to describe, too much to handle, and he’s been stabbed and he’s been shot and none of that felt anything like this, because this feels like lava’s been poured down his throat and he’s burning alive from this inside out, and his lungs are having severe difficulty inhaling, and his chest is tight and he can’t feel his heartbeat so he thinks that maybe—

“Get him on the ground, get him down, get him down, oh, fuck—”

The world tips, and he’s lying down. The ceiling above is red, and dust drifts into his eyes. Dust from the vine husks, breaking apart as he watches them, crumbling into nothingness. It’s like watching ash fall. Like watching soot fall.

His chest constricts further, and he gasps for air. Air that doesn’t come. Air that doesn’t come, because, because—

They’re all talking over each other. He can barely follow the conversation. Dimly, he realizes that he’s quite panicked, though that fact itself has taken a backseat to the fact that he can’t breathe properly. Can’t breathe properly, because—

He thinks he might be dying, actually. He’d forgotten, how the Egg strikes back at those who strike it. He’d forgotten. He wonders if the universe did, too.

The vines aren’t burning, so there’s no ash falling. Not really. But there would be a twisted kind of poetry in it if they were, if it was flakes of soot tumbling down. Soot falling.

Soot falling.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #fundy #purpled #nihachu #jack manifold #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #*jazz hands*

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passable-talent · 3 years

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ok roe hear me out. dragon!anakin Au. reader is a knight sent to kill him but when their helmet gets knocked of, Anakin changes to his human form and it’s like love at first sight or w/e. and then when the knight fails to kill the dragon, the village offers them as a sacrifice to the dragon, so Anakin comes and picks them up and it’s tense and idk what my point is but have fun!

OOOOOHOOHOHO HERE WE GO

we are combining the selki myth with a dragon myth because i. wanted to

do u ever not realize how much you need something in your life until you have it

The governing Council of Coruscant, a small village, was facing a problem, in the form of a dragon. A dragon which lived on the edge of their town and preyed on its people, or did, until they began offering it tribute. They offered the dragon, which they’d named Vader, food or gold, earning its favor so that it wouldn’t destroy the village or its people. It was tradition to name a dragon, in order to easier call it for battle or tribute, a tradition started many years ago by the little village of Tatooine shortly before the death of their dragon, Maul.

Maul had been destroyed by a young knight of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi, which made the Council of Coruscant turn to the Jedi Order. But Obi-Wan had grown older, and was doing more important things for the kingdom, and so the Order sent another young, talented knight, eager to do service to the realm.

You.

You rode to the village nearest to the dragon’s lair and continued on foot from there, your blade hanging at your hip. You carried a mystical weapon called a ‘lightsaber’- a magical blade which was made of solid light. It was the mark of a Jedi Knight, and the mark of your skill. No enemy could stand to you, not even a dragon.

You had been directed through the woods, to a large cavern that was enclosed by a mountain. It was said that the lair of the dragon could be seen easily from far away, but as you grew closer, and the trees thickened, it would become harder to find. Luckily, you had a good sense of direction, and when forest gave way to grasslands that lead up to a gaping mouth of stone, you knew you had found Vader’s lair.

You stalked toward it, silent in the light of the setting sun, hoping that the dragon would yet be asleep and its death would be quick. You only let your eyes come overtop of the stone ledge, your helmet blending in with the grey. You weren’t yet noticed, and so looked for the dragon, and saw it curled up around one of multiple piles of gold within the cavern.

It was a deep shade of oaky brown, almost grey, horns curling over its forehead. Thin wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils as it slept, and you knew now was the best time to strike. You would follow in the footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and cleave this dragon’s head from its body, putting your name into history.

You heaved yourself over the stone ledge, gathering yourself to your feet. You padded silently toward the dragon until you stood overtop of it, nervous now, not to strike, but to stand so close.

“With me,” you whispered to your saber, the incantation that its magical bond with you responded to. It ignited for you and you held it high- but the sound had woken the dragon.

Its eyes were a piercing blue, chilling like nothing else you had ever seen. You meant to swung the saber down before the dragon could fully wake, but a great foot knocked you sideways, and you snuffed the blade so that it wouldn’t be in your way as you fell. Collecting yourself to your feet you found yourself face to face with a dragon, sparking its back teeth together, preparing to flame- and so you ran, knowing a fall from the short ledge was better than being broiled in your armor.

You tumbled down the hillside and came to rest at the line of trees, your helmet knocked from your head in the fall. You breathed hard, trying to right yourself through your dizziness, and looked up to the ledge, where you could see the dragon approaching, and tried to find your helmet before it attacked.

The roar of a dragon stilled you, and you ignited your saber again, holding it beside you while glaring upward. If you would have to fight it without your helmet, that you could do.

But then, something began to happen.

You could describe it almost like... molting? The dragon quickly lost size, and it brought its head back to its body, its scales shifting and moving until instead of a dragon it was a man, wearing a dragon’s skin cloak.

You paused, and stared, because that was a dragon a minute ago, and now it’s a guy.

“You’re not only a dragon, you’re a witch!” You shouted, running up the hill again, meaning to take him down now that he certainly had much less fire in his throat.

“A witch? Funny word.” You’d never heard a dragon talk before, and his voice was smooth, and it startled you. The closer you were to him, the more startled you became, as he wasn’t just any human, he was possibly the most handsome you had ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and those bright blue eyes had retained into his human form. Though there were fangs in his smile, they didn’t make the smile any less radiant, and he seemed to sense your hesitation as you approached.

“Be not afraid of being startled by my beauty,” he called down to you, making you stop dead in your tracks. “For I am enthralled by yours.” You snuffed your saber and hung it at your hip, looking at him. He clearly meant not to harm you, and so you raised your chin.

“Are you the dragon they call Vader?” You called up to him, just making sure, and he laughed, his expression bright and lovely.

“Yes, but my name is Anakin.” You tilted your head at him and gave him a small smile.

“Well, Anakin, my name is (Y/N), I’m a knight of the Jedi Order. I came here to kill you, as I’m sure you noticed.” Anakin laughed, lifting a hand from his cloak and laying it over the back of his neck, where your saber had almost been. From the motion you saw black claws where human fingertips would be, and darkened skin bordering scales on his forearm the color of his cloak.

“I did. You’ve changed your mind?” You looked at him for a moment with a laugh, then reached to your side to tug at one of the ties that held your armor in place.

“Yes, I think I have.”

“In that case,” he said, sitting down on the ledge, tossing his legs over it, “want to come up for tea?”

~~~

You returned the next day to Coruscant with scorched armor and smudges of dirt and bloody scrapes all over. You vowed that you had failed to kill the dragon after an epic battle, but you would return to Vader’s lair after you had healed, and you would try again.

Returned you did, and once again, you dredged home to Coruscant, Vader still alive. So you tried again- again, and again.

“Anakin?” You called as you reached the trees, climbing onto his ledge and shedding your armor at the entrance of the cavern, as you always did. He wasn’t there- but sometimes this happened, and he always returned soon after you arrived. You wandered the expanse of the cavern and investigated his hoard, but mostly you were entranced by the space where he lived: a loft-life area above the golden treasures that had been carved by dragon claws from the mountain. Within it were human luxuries- a bed, couches, a carpet, a fireplace like none you’d ever seen before. It was so comfortable, especially to you, after spending time on those couches with him. He brewed the most delicious tea.

When he still hadn’t returned you grew disinterested in waiting on the couches and went to his hoard again, looking over it. You wondered if there was more than gold within it, and dug down with the tip of your foot, curious if even in your casual digging you’d uncover a gem. The stones were the most interesting to you- you’d fashioned a small sunstone into the hilt of your saber, and yet it had been the only precious stone you’d ever seen.

You’d only been standing there for a moment when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you from the floor. Caught off guard you grabbed onto the wrists, but you knew who was spinning you and placing you back down.

“Anakin!” you laughed, and accusing tone gracing his name.

“For a Jedi Knight, you sure do scare easily.” You shook your head, your smile fond, and with one hand shoved him gently, pushing him back from you.

“Where have you been?” You asked, letting him lead you up to his loft, his cloak almost billowing behind him as he walked. He had only gotten more attractive to you- the curl of his hair around his horns, horns admittedly smaller in human form, but still wicked and dark. His figure was exceptional, his smile was bright, his hands strong and kind.

“Visiting my mother,” he said, putting on a pot of water to boil. You were always colder than he was, so often he made you a hot drink when you arrived. “She gave me some advice.”

“Advice?” you repeated, sitting down on one of the couches. “About what?”

“Dragon stuff,” he said, turning to you with a playful sneer, “you wouldn’t understand.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh yeah? Try me, Sparker.” His eyebrows raised as though you had caught him off guard, and his pupils narrowed into vertical slits briefly, a reaction you knew to be of self-defense. Was he embarrassed?

“Nothing, (Y/N), honestly. Don’t worry about it.” You indulged him with your silence, laying your head back into the cushion of the couch.

“I think Palpatine’s getting upset with me,” you said, steering the conversation away for his sake.

“Palpatine? You mean the head of the Council?”

“Yeah. I think he’s getting tired of me failing to kill you.”

“Oh yeah?” Anakin asked, pouring hot water into a mug to let the tea leaves steep within it. “Thinking about actually killing me to get him off your back?” You looked up, startled, at him.

“What? Of course not.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, carrying over the mug and placing it on a table next to the couch, then taking a seat next to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind having you be the last thing I see.” You rolled your eyes and let your shoulder rest against his, nudging him softly.

“Charmer.”

“You know,” Anakin said, repositioning. He often sat so close to you like this so that he could wrap you in his dragon cloak. You hadn’t quite figured out why he liked to do it so much, but you allowed him anyway- it wasn’t like you’d complain about the warmth you felt from him and the way he put his arms around you. “I could always drop your charred armor and clothes onto his doorstep. You’d be able to stay, and they wouldn’t be upset with you.” You lifted yourself up enough to look him in the eye.

“You’d do that?” You asked him, and he tilted his head.

“Why not?”

“I just...” you trailed off, silent while he repositioned so that his left leg laid lengthwise onto the couch, and you sat between it and his other. “I didn’t realize you’d let me stay.” You felt him press a kiss down onto your head, and a smile grew onto your face. You pulled the cloak over your shoulder to cover more of your body.

“Of course I would,” he said, his claws lightly tracing your wrist down until he found your hand, and curled his fingers into yours.

“But no,” you said, turning your head to rest your cheek onto his chest. “I wouldn’t want them to think you’ve killed me. I’m a better knight than that.”

“True,” he said, pulling more of his cloak over you when he noticed how you bent your knees against the cold. “Then maybe, you could say you’re leaving, to come back with reinforcements, or better weapons, and instead stay here.”

“That doesn’t solve anything, Ani,” you whispered, reaching over your shoulder to run your fingers through his hair. “Then they’d still be blaming me for the fact that you’re still alive. And I could never kill you.” He turned his head up to kiss your palm, then resting his head back down into your hand.

“You’ll think of something,” he said, and in the comfort of the moment, you believed him.

As the sun rose you entered the outer limits of Coruscant, exhausted. Anakin’s nocturnal nature made these meetings easy to schedule but quite hard on your sleep cycle. You usually made it back only to have the older women of the village fawn over you, tending your wounds while you slept. You always returned burnt and bruised, though these wounds were self inflicted, to make it seem as though there was a battle. Anakin never hurt you- save for today, when you had insisted that you get a scratch across your jaw.

“I can’t, (Y/N),” he had insisted, holding his hands to his chest so that he didn’t even bring his claws close to you. “I can’t.”

“It’s alright,” you promised, “I’m asking you to. I know you’d never hurt me. I’d do it myself with a stone, but these people know what dragon claws look like.”

“Love, I can’t hurt you.” You reached forward with a gentle smile, lightly taking his hand into yours.

“Close your eyes, then,” you whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw. You leaned into his palm, your fingers resting overtop his, and when you felt him relax, you pressed down hard onto his first finger, dragging it in a swift motion down your jawline and toward your chin. He gasped, opening his eyes, but you held his hand away, making sure that your blood dripped down your neck uninterrupted. You’d kissed him goodbye, promising him that the women of the village would treat the wound.

This morning, though, Palpatine himself was there to see you arrive.

“(Y/N), my dear!” he said, approaching you. “It’s so good you made it home alive.” You thanked him, knowing what he would ask next. “And our dragon? Have you vanquished it?”

“No, sir,” you answered, looking to the ground, feigning shame. “I did not succeed tonight. But I will return to try again.” Palpatine sighed, and before you could react, he had the guards of the council surround you. Shocked, you whirled, but did not ignite your blade. The sheer number of them overpowered you, chaining your hands in front of you.

“(Y/N) of the Jedi Order,” Palpatine said, standing in front of you on a platform in the center of the village, “You have failed to rid us of our dragon, and so will serve your final duty to Coruscant on this, the sixty-sixth day of spring- you will be a sacrifice to Vader, and with your death, will keep him from harming this village.”

“What?” you snarled, trying to take a step forward, but the guards stopped you. Your armor was torn from you until only your fabric clothing remained, and you struggled against every moment. “This is how you treat the people who are sent to help you?”

“As a mercy, you will be keeping your magic blade,” Palpatine said, tossing the hilt of your lightsaber toward you. “If you kill the dragon before he kills you, you are free to return.” You glared in Palpatine’s direction as the guards fashioned your saber to your waist, then as they lead you to the platform Palpatine had emptied. Here they had piled the sacrifices of gold and food for Anakin, and here they placed you now, looping your chains through a hoop in the center of the platform.

There was a trumpet that had become the sound of dread in the village. It caused all to run to their homes, in fear, because the trumpet called the dragon.

What would Anakin do when he was arrived? Would he recognize that you were the sacrifice, and spare you? Surely he would, he would recognize you- he had to!

How the people of Coruscant, who had loved you, who had put their faith in you, could do this to you- it was evil. You collected yourself to your knees, your arms held in your lap, chained down.

“I curse this town,” you said, softly at first, as the sound of the trumpet echoed throughout the valley. “I curse Coruscant and all who live within it. I curse you to the fire and death I sought to protect you from!” Everyone hushed as they saw a dragon, on the horizon. Everyone but you.

“I curse you to be torn, limb from body and flesh from bone, I curse you to the same end of pain and suffering that I will be given!” The dragon grew closer, its wingspan wider than the streets of the town, its nostrils exhaling smoke.

“I curse the Force from this place, may its kindness never guide you again!”

You trusted Anakin. You did. With your whole body.

Still, those slitted blue eyes studying you from behind scales, the massive form of the dragon approaching like a hunter with its eyes only on you, it was terrifying. You had tears rolling down your face, and you didn’t even know why. Anakin would never hurt you- he’d made that very clear, this morning.

But you saw his back teeth spark.

His fire, red and yellow and orange, shot forward, consuming the wooden platform you sat upon.

Your curse had worked, the townspeople would whisper. The dragon’s fire ate up the platform and left nothing behind, spreading to the nearest homes and buildings. As for you, though, there was nothing left- and everyone had been too concerned with the flames to notice how it happened.

Except for one old woman, who had known of dragons longer than most in Coruscant. She had kept her eye on the town of Coruscant and its dragon scourge, and its new knight. She was the first to open her home to you.

Shmi Skywalker watched as the dragon lumbered into the flames, and disappeared. And she watched as two figures hurried from it, wrapped in a fireproof cloak of dragon skin. She’d keep their secret.

-🦌 Roe

| part 2 | part 3 | part 4 |

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Folded messages

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 4900 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, swearing.

Requested by: Anon

Hello!! I just recently read you 11 Five fic and I have to say it was incredible. I have no words to describe it, your writing is so good💖💖 with that, I was wondering if you did fics based on songs, if you do, would you mind doing a 5xreader based on “sway with me” by Micheal Buble? Idk what the plot could be, maybe they are in a mission from commission and have to go to a fancy ballroom. Maybe they are enemies. Maybe reader pulls him to dance around S2. The choices are endless, go crazy :”)

A/N: Finally I found time to write! I've had insomnia for too long because I couldn't write! Damn day job!

On a better note, I really hope you guys like this little piece of fluff 💜 I swear, this started as a small idea and then it just got bigger and bigger. Sorry not sorry!

Was it even possible? The prospect of falling in love for someone of his nature was almost as high as his targets' survival rate. He wasn't an emotional man, his feelings were deeply buried in the depth of his heavily guarded heart, locked away in a three inches thick chest that was itself hidden in an impossible maze where traumas and demons were furiously protecting the paths.

Add this to the fact that he never saw her, not even once, the only proof of her existence being the small animals made of colorful folded paper that appears in his jacket pockets whenever he crossed her path, the possibilities of developing such feelings were in no way probable. The origami aside, the woman seemingly took pleasure in throwing wrenches into his work. He was asked to assassinate a brilliant inventor who was getting too close to discovering the secrets of time-traveling? It would have been an easy job if it wasn’t that every single bullet he had in his possession suddenly disappeared, forcing him to finish the job with his knife.

There was another time, he was tasked with the termination of a group of people meeting in the back of a bar, his guns were loaded, his knives were sharpened, he was full of juice, there was no way that this job would take more than one minute and forty-three seconds. He made his way to the door leading to the room hosting his targets when he noticed a small dark purple llama on the door handle. He pocketed the folded piece of paper for later and tried the handle to find out that it wouldn't even turn on itself. The assassin rolled his eyes at the futile attempt to keep him from completing his mission, he closed his hands into fists but his ability decided to fail at this right moment.

The door behind him closed on a loud banging noise, a delicate click following closely behind, indicating that the door was locked from the other side. Five remembers it clear as day, the moment he knew he had found his equal. He heard you giggling lightly on the other side of the door and his heart started speeding up. Not in anger, not in annoyance nor in embarrassment. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure that he wanted more of it.

It happened four times, you making his job more challenging and him receiving a small gift before Five decided to do some research. In a box carefully concealed under the double bottom of his drawer were stored every paper animal he found during his missions along with books about origami and colors.

An olive green and lavender cat, a dark blue dragon, an orange fish and a dark purple llama were now aligned on his desk in order of acquisition. The different books were opened on different pages and then Five started his information gathering. He scribbled in his notebook the different significance associated to each color and animal and an hour and a half later, he was contemplating his findings.

The cat was a symbol of independence and mystery among other things. Its olive-green body with the patches of lavender told him that the first gift was, in fact, a peace offering from a feminine person. Her very own olive branch that he took long enough to decipher.

Then there was the dragon, symbol of power, wisdom, mastery and success. The dark shade of blue told him that the dragon was full of knowledge, power and seriousness. He frowned, thinking and slightly hoping that maybe this was how she saw him.

He didn't know what to think of the orange fish. Happiness, freedom and energy. He couldn't relate to this one, having not been free for many years now as stipulated by his contract with the Commission. He was a slave, used for his ability and his will to do everything to survive one more day and save his family from their imminent doom.

Maybe the fish was a reference to yourself. This was the only explanation he could find. You were a young adult from what he deduced of your giggles and were pretty happy and free if the folded paper was anything to go by.

The last gift proved that Five's theory stipulating that every origami was a metaphor about yourself and himself was correct.

A dark purple llama. An animal representing hard work, endurance under difficult situations and responsibility. His heart accelerated at the possibility that you knew that he was trying to buy some time and betray his employer sooner than later. Would you rat him out? He really hoped that the olive cat meant that you were on his side and not against him, he would really hate to put an end to the warm feeling dancing in his chest whenever he realized that you were around and ready to play a trick on him.

Now if he followed your logic, the next one he will receive will say more about yourself and he couldn't wait to be assigned to another mission so that he had a chance to learn more about you or even possibly see you. You, his little time traveler. Five had thought about this for the longest of time and he came to the conclusion that you were indeed a time traveler. The Commission kept very close control over their briefcase so there was no way that you had one in your possession, he would know, after all, he checked the lost briefcases records and they were all reported destroyed.

To his dismay, his next mission was uneventful. He got in and got out. No hiccup, no paper animal. Nothing. It went like this for his next six missions and with every passing success, Five found himself getting irritated. Every night he found himself chasing your shadow in his dreams and every time you managed to evade his attempts at catching you. One morning when even his first coffee of the day wasn't enough to ease his frustration, he thought of a plan that would allow him to finally see you.

To avoid making his kills personal, Five always prioritized a long-range way to kill, meaning with guns. Guns had a way to remove all responsibilities off his shoulder and lighten his soul at the end of the day. He had enough demons consuming more and more of his conscience on a daily basis, he definitely could do without this kind of remorse. Sure, he was the one who pulled the trigger, but ultimately, it was the bullet that killed the target, not his hands.

But tonight, Five decided that he would complete his mission with the idea that you were around. If you were, then he would finally meet you. If not, he would need something strong to accompany his coffee. Whiskey maybe.

He abandoned his prized sniper in the deserted building next to the one his target was currently dancing in and made his way to a back door. There he space-jumped inside the building and quickly blended himself with the crowd. He found himself straightening his suit in the case you were around and made his way to the bar.

A glass of whiskey in hand, Five turned his back to the counter and analyzed the crowd in search of his wealthy bastard who was enjoying his very last evening on this Earth. There he was, dancing around, totally unconcerned of the people around him.

Unconsciously, Five reached into his pockets where the gifts usually appeared out of thin air, his fingers searching around as they did a hundred times before but ultimately finding nothing. With a frustrated groan, Five grabbed his glass, emptied its content in one gulp, smashed the glass back on the counter and pushed his way to his target. Another night without your little schemes meaning another night chasing your shadow in his sleep. If this was how the night would unfold, then he wanted to finish this quickly.

Five's hand reached for his target, grabbed a hold of his upper arm and pulled him in a nearby hallway before jumping the both of them in the nearby abandoned building where his weapons were patiently waiting for him.

Five turned around to face his target, knife in hand and ready to strike when his breath caught in his throat and every muscle in his body contracted, stopping every movement. Where his prey stood mere milliseconds ago was now an elegant woman in a beautiful gown, all smile and giggling at his reaction. He knew it was you the second he heard your giggles, causing his heart to skip a beat and his fingers to let go of the sharp weapon.

He stopped himself from moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear, instead choosing to release his grip on your arm and take a step away. You were too beautiful, so much more beautiful than what he imagined, with your shining eyes, your soft-looking hair, your perfectly curved body, he tried to burn every detail into his memory.

"Dance with me?" You asked, closing the distance and reaching for his hand. Your movement got him out of his thoughts and everything came back full force. The mischievous glint into your eyes caused a smirk to form on his lips.

"You just want to keep me from my job." And you were doing a magnificent job at it.

"Is it working?" You batted your eyelashes in an innocent way, making Five roll his eyes before he positioned your hands correctly and pull your body so that you were almost touching each other.

You smiled in satisfaction, following his steps flawlessly on a tempo only he could hear. The blue-eyed man enjoyed the silent minute, savoring the feeling of your soft skin cradled into his palm and the warmth of your waist radiating through the fabric under his opposite hand. The comfortable silence was soon replaced by a soft song playing in the background, stopping Five in his tracks and almost causing you to fall if it wasn’t for his strong arms keeping you up and close.

Five eyes finally left your face and widened at the new scenery surrounding him. The once dusty floor was now pristine and exempt of all the trash and needles that were once lingering around, the tagged walls were perfectly painted in a new shade of light grey, giving the room a nice glow under the gleam of the light strings hanging from the ceiling.

Five didn’t know his mouth had opened in awe before you chuckled and your hand left his shoulder to caress his chin, effectively causing him to close it.

"I take it that you like it?" Your eyes were shining under the soft lights and the pride he saw in them almost got a smile out of him.

"You made this?" He was still stunned about the complete makeover of the room. Even the lingering moldy smell disappeared, letting a pleasant smell floating around in its place.

"You’re not the first one the Commission took a liking to, ya know. I’m kinda like an illusionist, but my stuff is the real deal. They saw my potential and offered me a job, which I refused and they’ve been on my tail ever since." You shrugged, replacing your hand at its rightful place on his shoulder.

Five was truly amazed by the woman standing in front of him. Her ability had so many possibilities and she managed to escape the Commission for seemingly a long time. Add this to the fact that she can time-travel and play tricks on the best assassin this planet has ever seen, Five has never been so interested in someone like that before, not even Dolores who has been his everything for many years.

"I can see why they were interested in you." He resumed his dancing, this time following the rhythm of the soft music playing around them. "Having two abilities is pretty rare."

You shook your head, before clarifying. "I only have one. I don't know where you get the second one from." You frowned in confusion, which reflected on his own face.

"But you time-travel." He remembered finding the folded fish in the 1800s, the dragon around the 1950s and today was September 23th, 1987.

"Yeah, the same way as you. With a briefcase." You nodded toward the black briefcase neatly placed near the window. Five only got more and more confused.

"But they were all dest-" He cut himself at your cheeky grin. "You created your very own. Impressive."

"Thank you." You were beaming at that point and Five felt proud that he was the source of your happiness.

The slow song ended but neither of you stopped moving your feet in unison. Five was enjoying himself like never before and he wasn't in a hurry to end it. The corner of his lips quirked upward when he realized that you pressed yourself against him when the song ended, your way of saying that you didn't want this to end either.

You silently danced the second song in its entirety, living every second like everything would disappear at any moment. Five was scared that this was a one night deal and that he would never see you again. Why did you reveal yourself tonight of any other night?

Before he gathered the courage to ask you, the song reached its end and a completely different kind of music floated in the air.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Five pulled away slightly, not much, only to be able to see the sheepish smile on your lips. "I love this song." Was your only answer to his frowned brows.

Five laughed softly before stepping away and made you spin. He pulled you back to him, your melodious laugh bouncing around him like the greatest melody ever written.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

It was clear that neither of you knew how to dance on this song, but you didn't care. You were both moving around freely, Five making you spin from time to time.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway I go weak

Five's heart was beating quickly, not because of the physical exercise, he was trained to accomplish way more than dancing without breaking a sweat, but because the sight of your delighted face stroked something deep within himself. A primal need. The need of a life partner. Someone who he could trust blindly and love without holding back.

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

A too-quick step made you trip on your own feet, in an attempt to keep you on your feet Five reached for your arms but it was already too late. Instead of helping, Five only unbalanced you more leading you to fall to the ground and drag the man with you. Thanks to his sharp reflexes, Five caught himself on his forearms before he crushed your small form under his larger one.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

For a moment the assassin's heart stopped in fear. He hasn't felt afraid in years and it definitely wasn't a feeling he had missed. Your laugh flicked a switch in his heart, making it beat again in an erratic rhythm that he was almost embarrassed of. He guessed that if feeling that good meant that sometimes he was going to be afraid, it wasn't a big deal. He could deal with his fears if at the end of the day you were fine and happy in his arms.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

"I'm so sorry Five!" You managed to say after catching your breath. Tears rolled from your eyes and into your hair, the reflection of the lights above creating stars in your eyes.

"It's fine." Was all he could say, for his brain had stopped working when he realized that only a couple of centimeters separated the two of you. His body started heating up to his dismay, Five pushed on his arms and sit on his heels to help you sit up.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Hold me close, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

"Thanks." You muttered while passing a hand through your messy hair.

The sound of a metallic object falling on the ground made you jump. Five frowned, confused as to why the Commission would send him another assignment right now and not wait until his return.

"What was that?" You whispered.

"My employer." He was beyond annoyed by the interruption. They couldn't have chosen a worse time than tonight.

Offering you a helping hand, Five got up and helped you when your hand closed on his. He couldn't stop himself, he enlaced his fingers through yours, the tightness of your grip made him chuckle.

"Don't worry, they are not here." He lightly hit the wall near the window with the underside of his fist, searching for a spot on the wall that wasn't hollow. When he found it, he searched for the dissimulated door and took the canister with his name written on it.

Releasing your hand, Five opened the canister, took the folded paper and read the words. Terminate Y/N L/N. How was he supposed to terminate someone he didn't even know? This job was so frustrating! He folded back the paper, storing it in his pants pocket. This would have to wait. He turned back to you and the sight bring a genuine smile to his lips.

You were smiling at something outside the window, the light of the moon joined to the string lights gave you an angelic glow. He would have loved to contemplate you longer, but duty called and he now had two targets instead of one.

"I have to go." He didn't dare say it too loud, maybe time would stop and let him live this perfect night for all eternity.

You turned around with a small smile on your lips. He could see that you were disappointed even though you nodded like it was nothing. "Well, tonight couldn't go on forever." You walked up to him, with each one of your steps Five felt himself growing weak in the knees. Oh how he didn't want to go. "It's fine. I'll find you again." At that, you tenderly reached for his cheek while your lips pressed a delicate kiss on the other one, stealing his breath.

You giggled, surely at the blush covering his cheeks and walked away, the illusion fading along with your steps. Just as you were about to walk down the stairs, Five remembered something.

"Wait! I didn't get your name!" He quickly space-jumped in front of you to block your path.

"Y/N L/N." Her smile dropped when a dark expression fell on his face. Even if he tried, he couldn’t have repressed it, the surprise and the anger were too much.

"You have to leave." He didn’t know how they found her, he always made sure he didn’t have any bug on himself before going on a mission.

"N-not that I wasn’t doing that anyway, but w-why the long face?" His fingers twitched at the waver in your voice. It wasn’t his intention to scare you, even less to scare you off.

"The Commission knows you’re here. I don't know how, but they know." Five was starting to get tired of them pretty quickly. Maybe one day he would get out of there with explosions resonating through the hallways. Maybe he could use grenades. Yeah, grenades were good.

You started to walk down the stairs when you stopped and turned to him, one last time. "Be careful."

Five smirked although your concern was touching. "I should be the one telling you that."

With one last giggle, you walked out of his sight. Five returned to his very first task of the night, took place at his spot by the window and finished the initial job.

Back at the Commission that night, Five removed his jacket, eager to go to bed and find himself dancing in your arms again to the sound of soft slow music. A sound caught his attention when he threw his jacket on the back of his chair, the sound of crumbling paper.

His hands searched his pocket, grabbing the grey fox that somehow found its way into his jacket without him noticing. A smile stretched his lips before he carefully slipped the fox under his pillow and went to bed.

A whole year passed before the next animal appeared in his pocket. As frustrated as he was of being away from you for a whole year, Five knew why this was necessary. The Commission was close on your tail. Apparently, he wasn't the only agent tasked of your termination and some got lucky enough to find your location but not enough to hurt you.

The whole year he kept tabs on the Commission's information on you and kept worrying that someday he would find a red stamp crossing out your picture. As of today, his worst nightmare hasn't yet come true, so he pushed his worry aside and continued his job.

He assembled his sniper, preparing himself to kill the president of the United States in 1963 when something hit him in the head. It didn't hurt or anything, it was light as a leaf. Frowning, Five pulled away from the scope of his weapon to discover a brown frog made of folded paper lying on the ground next to his feet.

Receiving one of your signature gift after all that time caused his heart to skyrocket in his chest. All those feelings he had repressed, fearing that one day you would be gone for good and that he would definitely be alone in this cruel world, came rushing back at full speed, making him drop his gun and look around for you.

You weren't far, waving at him with a tired smile on your face, dark shadows marking the underside of your eyes. He didn't take the time to run, simply jumping to you and engulfing your body into his arms.

Many times he thought about how much he had fallen for you after only one dancing night and five tricks followed by origamis. If it were someone else, he would have told them that they were being stupidly influenced by their primal urges that forced them to find a partner and procreate, for this was the circle of life since the dawn of time. In his case, he knew it was much more than that. It was more important to him than a need to procreate. He had found his equal, someone that sparked an insatiable interest in him and showed him that there was way more in this life than what he originally knew.

Five tensed as soon as he heard the first sobs. Immediately he started to scan your body for wounds or blood, anything to show that you were hurt. However, his analysis was cut short by both your hands cradling his cheeks.

"I'm fine. I'm just real' tired and I'm so happy to see you." Your arms wrapped around his neck forcing Five to hug your body closer. Not that he minded.

He whispered words of reassurance into your hair while thinking of what to do next. You couldn't keep fleeing the Commission alone, not in your state. They would catch up to you in no time and he couldn't have that. He couldn't say that he killed you to get them off your back, the higher-ups would request physical proof of your death. It only left him with his last resort. He would have liked to find the good variable, but time was against him so he would have to deal with it.

"I have a plan, don't worry." He dried her tears with his thumb when she lifted her head to look into his eyes. "I'll get us out of here."

You managed a smile before chuckling. "I know. Why do you think I gave you a brown frog? A frog to ensure a safe return of your journey and brown for home."

Five shook his head, once again amazed at how perfectly you could read him despite everyone else describing him as unpredictable.

He grabbed your hands in his, mentally reciting the equation he passed the last 45 years developing. Before the portal appeared, Five stopped everything in a hurry, scaring the shit out of you. He let go of your hands for two seconds, enough time for him to run back at his sniper, grab the brown frog and run back at you. You rolled your eyes when he secured the frog in his jacket pocket, quickly saying that it has sentimental value, before concentrating on the portal again.

The blue vortex appeared, its power pushing them away. It took every ounce of strength into Five's body to pull you with him through the portal, your weakened state left you helpless in front of the blue resistance.

Five did his best to catch you during the fall, your body falling directly on top of his, stealing his breath for a moment.

You managed to roll off of him, allowing him to take a nice bowl of air to fill his lungs. He made it. You weren't 100% safe, but he could have help now. He cou-

"Five." The worry in your voice along with your hand closing tightly on his forearm pushed him to sit up quickly and find the source of the danger. He understood your reaction when his eyes fell on his siblings who looked like hell.

"You guys didn't change one bit." He deadpanned. His usual unimpressed face was back in service at the gaping fish-like faces of his siblings.

"We should be the one telling you that. You haven't aged at all!" Klaus yelled, his outstretched arms moving up and down in his direction.

Confused, Five glanced at his body and realization hit him like a brick. He knew something wasn't right!

Your repressed giggles caught his attention, he found your 13 years old body, a hand on your mouth desperately trying to keep a full-on laugh in. He couldn't help but notice how much more tired you looked in your younger self.

"It's not funny." Was all he said before he spacial-jumped the two of you to his old bedroom. There he guided you to the bed where he helped you get under the covers and watched you get comfortable.

"It is funny." Five scoffed and went to the door, knowing his siblings were gathered behind it and very probably listening to their conversation. He hit the door with his foot and as expected, Klaus yelled in pain, complaining about his hurting ear.

"I'll be downstairs to talk in a few minutes so get lost." He told them through the door. He was awarded by some angry muttering and finally, fading footsteps.

He walked back to your side when he was sure that everyone went on their merry way, sitting on the nearby chair with your hand in his.

"You need to rest. You'll be safe here." He kissed your hand at your tired smile. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, that okay?" You nodded, already your eyelids seemed pretty heavy.

"I missed you Five."

You were out in less than two minutes, your breathing became deeper and slower, your facial muscles relaxed and your mouth opened slightly allowing Five to hear your even respiration.

The boy didn't notice exactly when it happened, but the demons were now silent and the traumas shrank in size, forming a clear path toward the center of the maze that was his heart. There, the three inches thick chest that was protecting his feelings was now wide open, strings were delicately wrapped around them, not too tight as to not suffocate them, but with just enough contact so that he could permanently feel her affection enveloping him.

"I missed you too."

[A/N] This passed SO close to having an angsty ending! So close! I figured you guys had enough angst with 11 already… and the part 2 that's coming next.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #the boy #tua #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy

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