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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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My Protective Demon and Me: How to Live with Your Overly-Protective Hellspawn!

Intro:

So you've bagged yourself a demon, huh? Well, there are many great benefits to dating the otherworldly creatures of Hell, including increased power, longevity, and security! We can assure you that your demon boyfriend wants nothing more than to keep you safe, dear human, but this can be a new experience for the uninitiated. Never fear, because we have put together this guide to help you navigate the relationship you've just signed your soul into! My Protective Demon and Me is an instructional tool for your new demonic partnership, designed to introduce you to the protective tendencies of Seven Rulers of Hell. Listen to our advice, and you won't be left wondering why your boyfriend insists on carrying you down the stairs or loses his mind when you're injured by paper!

(Warnings: Possessive Behaviors, Implied PTSD, Yandere-ish)

Lucifer

Now, there's no kind way to say this, but Lucifer will think of you as small, weak, and helpless on most days. We promise it's not quite as insulting as it sounds because to him, that just makes you cuter.

Because he thinks you're so pathetic, he will want to provide for you in all sorts of ways. This includes security.

Lucifer's approach to keeping you safe is a little indirect, and it may sound a tad… invasive, but that's only because he's not able to be with you in person as often as he'd like.

He uses familiars spread across the Devildom to keep an eye on you during the day. Don't fret; these familiars aren't there to tell him about your every waking breath. Just monitor you and report back to him if something's amiss.

If there's an alert, he will drop everything to be sure that you're alright. The second he knows something's wrong, he'll be right with you within a minute, Diavolo be damned.

He may try to play it off as he just happened to be in the area if others are around, but in truth, he'd use magic to recall himself to your side.

Speaking of magic… Again, since he can't be with you as much as he wants, you may begin to notice your body getting stronger to a certain degree over your time with him. Is he secretly using magical means to strengthen your bones or make your skin harder to tear? He will never say, so best not ask.

Potential threats against you are dealt with discreetly, mostly under the guise of safeguarding the exchange program for Diavolo. No offenders will ever make it to the castle dungeon, though, as Lucifer tends to finish them off on sight... We recommend that you make yourself scarce during these times. Torture is such a nasty thing to witness...

Lucifer would like to believe that, in being with him, you're the safest that you could possibly be, but he always worries about what danger you're in while he's busy with work. A part of him blames his lack of vigilance over Lilith for her downfall, and he has strained to recover a sense of security over his loved ones ever since... Though he may come across as overbearing, just know he only watches you that closely because he couldn't bear to lose you.

Mammon

If you've won over Mammon's heart, then he's going to guard you as fiercely as a dragon does its treasure. But be warned because this can lead to confrontation...

Mammon will see himself as your bodyguard of sorts, so he'll try to be around you at all hours of the day. He'll start by making excuses like he needs study help, but after a while, he'll just hope you come to accept him as a constant fixture in your life and don't question his hovering.

He will stick very close to you in public, particularly when among other demons. He's the second strongest of his brothers, so this alone should deter most threats but don't be surprised if you see him scan the room you're in from time to time.

Take care not to hurt yourself around Mammon because he has yet to fully process how fragile the human body is. He may panic upon seeing you hurt (and he's not the most helpful when he's panicking…).

Should you get hurt when Mammon is near, you may see his protective instincts spike considerably. He will offer to carry heavy packages, refuse to let you handle sharp objects, and hold out a hand to steer you around tight corners.

Do not threat, this added level of attention is only temporary. Remind Mammon that accidents are a part of human life, and you can get yourself through them as the species normally does.

If someone actually tries to hurt you, we advise you to stay calm and focus on getting harmed as little as possible. Unfortunately, there will be no good way to talk Mammon out of fighting in your defense. It's best to focus on minimizing the damage to yourself and staying alive until help can be brought to you.

Mammon does this not to look down on you, but because he loves you so deeply, he's devastated any time he sees you hurt. Be patient with him, and he will learn to draw back his fear to a more appropriate level. Always know, though, that he worries about you constantly, so try not to give his demonic heart too many palpitations - yes?

Leviathan

Levi is in some ways more chill than his brothers, and in others far more extreme depending on the location you find yourselves in.

If you are in his room (which you will be a lot), then he will be very relaxed. As far as he's concerned, you are in his domain and thus perfectly safe. There's no need to worry about you getting hurt or stumbling upon any rivals.

If you are together in the outside world, however, he will be very on edge. You are the most important individual in his life, so any possibility of you leaving him by death or by choice is not acceptable.

He will try his damnedest to steer you away from large crowds or packed spaces because he will be terrified of losing you in the chaos. Being in any public place where he can't see you will drive his anxiety through the roof. His imagination is quite active, and his mind is always against him.

If you are with his brothers, then he will be particularly tense. He acknowledges both their capacity to drag you into dangerous shenanigans AND steal away your affections, neither of which are options he'd like to pursue.

He will rarely let you be alone with his brothers without express permission, and even then, he has likely shot a threat to them about minding your safety (and your relationship) beforehand. As he is third strongest, only Mammon and Lucifer would ignore his "requests" but only to a point. It's a terrible mess whenever he summons Lotan in the House…

If someone else hurts you retribution will be swift (and bordering on lethal) because he's far more worried about getting back to making sure you're alright. He won't have his Henry dying on his watch, after all.

If you happen to hurt yourself, expect him to stow you away in his room for even longer than usual. Your accidental demise is a recurring fear of his, so he will need a great deal of reassurance that you are still with him and not quite at death's door just yet (yes, even if you get a papercut).

Leviathan is so protective of you because he feels like he has the most to lose if you died/left. He interacts with so few people that having even one show him patience is a game-changer. He would have the hardest time moving on should your presence ever leave him, so protecting you is the best thing he can do to protect himself from that pain in the future.

Satan

Satan's protective nature is less overt than the others, but in many ways, it's more… intense.

He's more familiar than the others with the fragility of human bodies thanks to many years of casual study. Thus, he has bulked up his knowledge of your species in earnest to help keep you safe.

What we mean to say is, fear not, you're now dating a doctor. He may not have an M.D. to his name, but he's pretty damn close.

He will want to know about any slight inconvenience you may be experiencing, from a slight headache all the way to broken bones. He prefers to diagnose your problem quickly then use any combination of magic or medicine to heal your ailments. You will rarely struggle with ongoing discomfort again!

That being said, he can be quite pushy. There will be no, "I'll just sleep it off" with him. If it can be fixed, he will fix it. Your patience be damned.

If you somehow manage to hurt yourself… He will be disappointed, but he will not deny you assistance. He will lecture you if he sees you doing potentially reckless activities, though, because it's his (self-imposed) job to patch you up afterward.

It should really go without saying that most demons know better than to hurt someone he loves. He may not be the strongest of his brothers, but he is among the least merciful, and that does make a difference.

If, for whatever reason, one actually does manage to harm you, then you have an important choice to make. Do you allow him to act on his anger or be the one to show mercy when he will not? If you'd like to be charitable, please consult our helpful material, How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend: Tame Demons, Save Lives.

At his core, Satan worries about his demonic side because he knows how easily his Wrath can take over. So he does his best to circumvent these destructive tendencies with nurturing ones. He may come off like a worrywart, but helping you is just as much an assurance to him as it is a service to you. He's not destined to hurt you. He can heal you instead.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a free-spirited individual who would like to afford you the same freedom that he enjoys… but he knows very well how fragile the human body is. He's had many human lovers over the years, so he's very familiar with your limitations.

However, he's also aware of how capable you can be despite your perceived weaknesses (he's been friends with Solomon for years, after all).

Unfortunately, this won't stop him from worrying about your safety entirely. It's nothing personal, we assure you. He simply wants to be sure the love of his life can be with him for as long as possible.

Asmo shows his protectiveness most when confronted. He's far more worried about some demonic lowlife taking advantage of you than he is you falling off a step ladder. He understands that accidents will happen and that most are ultimately harmless, but other people? They can do you far more harm.

Due to his disposition and rank, most demons won't take his claim to you seriously. This is to their folly. Though he may not be physically strong as his elder brothers or even Beel, what he lacks in raw power he makes up for in deception.

Like Mammon and Levi, Asmo will want to be close to you out in public, but he will come across as far more relaxed than those two. This is partly due to his more developed confidence and because it makes it easier for him to charm potential threats into leaving you alone. Things are taken care of quickly after that.

Should you get injured well… Asmo will not be much help for anything aside from getting you to someone who actually can. He'd likely panic worse than Mammon, so do your best to remain calm and assure him that you will be fine after a little assistance.

His treatment of you post-injury won't differ much from how it usually is, because again, he knows that when there's a human involved - it's bound to happen.

Asmo's fear of others, both tragically and ironically, stems from his sin itself. Though he always tries to champion his partners' consent, he knows more than anyone that others can let their Lust drive them mad... His worst nightmare is letting you fall victim to one of those monsters because, frankly, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if that ever were to happen.

Beelzebub

Beel is protection incarnate. This is something he's been doing long before you met and will likely continue to do until the end of his days. Protecting those he loves is in his nature.

That being said, this means is you are dating the equivalent of a demon-shaped Doberman Pinscher, loving and loyal to you and an absolute nightmare to your enemies.

Though he doesn't feel quite the same need to hang off you as Mammon might, Beel's protection can be likened to something like a hired-bodyguard. Close, but not too close, and always vigilant almost to a territorial degree.

If someone Beel doesn't like approaches you, he may growl at them. We would recommend you heed his warning. Beel is generally a good judge of character, and if something strikes him as off, then there may be cause for concern.

Fortunately for you, Beel does not jump to conclusions nor confrontation very often. Though he may act intimidating, he won't make any moves unless given an "Okay" from you beforehand.

This, however, does NOT apply if someone actually hurts you in any way. Though he may seem sweet and wholesome, please remember, he is a demon and the demon of Gluttony at that. Someone will be eaten for their transgressions, but he would rather you not watch if possible.

Truthfully, what will scare Beel far more than possible attackers are injuries in and of themselves. He has what basic first aid is afforded to anyone who plays sports but is nowhere near qualified to save you from something life-threatening... Should you become injured or sick, it would devastate him that he can no longer take care of you. He may even be at risk of a small breakdown as a result.

The events of Celestial War have perhaps taken their heaviest toll on Beel. Whether it's true or not, he carries a lot of the blame for what happened on his shoulders... The idea of going through something like that again, but now with you, scares him more than anything. Please remember, under that kind exterior lies dormant wounds that will likely remain unhealed long after you're gone...

Belphegor

Belphegor is a strange case because, in some respects, he is one of the most possessive of the brothers... But he's also the least overtly protective.

Part of it is, yes, his inherent laziness. Following you around all day would be quite a hassle. He also can't expect you to stay in bed with him 24/7 (not that he lets that stop him from trying). Even setting up complex background machinations to keep an eye on you would be too much work...

But that doesn't mean that he leaves you alone entirely. If there is one thing that Belphegor tries to shield you from, it's his brothers. For possessive reasons, yes, but also as a form of protection.

Belphie is acutely aware of how often his brothers' shenanigans can lead to disaster. As such, he'll try to drag you out of their problems as much as possible.

It's not lost on him that the events that lead to your first demise were all due your penchant for meddling in his brothers' affairs. So in his eyes, a fairly simple and effective way to keep you out of trouble would be to keep you from them as much as possible.

As far as injuries go… "He dislikes seeing you hurt" is the least complicated way of putting things. Seeing you with major injuries obviously triggers some uncomfortable and unwanted memories for him, as it would for you. However, his emotions quickly get muddled up in it...

The sudden combination of fear, panic, shame, and anger can strike him at once and leave him in a frozen or vulnerable state... Painful for sure, but also not helpful in that situation. Minor injuries, thankfully, do not cause this reaction.

If you're injured and Belphegor appears to be going through trauma, we recommend calling for assistance from someone nearby or a different brother if possible (Satan would be a good option). Once you're stable, Belphegor will be relaxed somewhat but may need some cuddling.

Even with his lazy attitude, Belphegor does care for you and will try to keep you safe in his own way. He may hide the intensity of his emotions behind a veil of apathy, but they run so strong that they can be paralyzing. Never doubt that he does love you, and try your best to be there for him when things become difficult...

More from the How-To series in Masterlist 1.0; More recent HCs in Masterlist 2.0

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me how tos #obey me scenarios #tw: possessive behavior #tw: ptsd

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blue-bird-kny · 3 years

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Cuddling HC Part 2

I know this is real short, but I’m happy to be working again! Please enjoy~ Amanda

Warning: None.

`(Words 900)

↳{Includes: Genya, Muichiro, Mitsuri}

Genya:

With Genya, cuddling isn’t something that is openly discussed or even acknowledged, you guys have more of an ‘I don’t hate you and you happen to like me’ type of relationship -at the beginning at least, eventually, you break him. However everyone needs a little hug after a long day and as you both fight demons for a living, every day is a long day.

He would not initiate the cuddling whatsoever, so you start small to not scare him by introducing small bits of physical contact. First, you’d rest the palm of your hand on his arm calmly, squeezing lightly or rubbing soothingly. Then, you’d take any moment of pause to rest your head against his shoulder. He froze the first time you did it, but now he sometimes itches to the weight rest against him. It wasn’t till one late night after washing and dressing that you’d stop the man, wrapping your arms as best as you could around his whole being to pull him in close, missing the way his questioning glare shifted into something of warm gaze. You held him for a second...then two, releasing him shyly for fear that you’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I didn't think-” “That was nice” his comment was low, but you still heard it.

After that, there was no stopping this man from wiggling himself into your grasp at one point or another, it was like a child who waited every night for his teddy bear. He’d never ask with words, it was always the small quivers of his thin-set lips when he was anxious, it was in the way he would hesitantly brush his fingers against any part of you he could get a hold of, it was especially obvious in his eyes that swam with a sort of desperation only you could understand. So, when you were both tucked away from the dangers and worries of the rest of the world, you’d sling your arms around him again, pressing his head against your chest, nuzzling into each other's warmth with a soft sigh.

Muichiro:

Muichiro’s favorite activity before meeting you was sitting around to watch the day slowly turn to night, so now that you are in his life, his favorite thing to do is be with you (bonus points if you're both doing nothing together). Cuddling was a natural activity that simply happened; you’d cuddle in all places and positions.

On sunny days you’d find yourselves outside, enjoying the cool breeze that helped to combat the hot rays from above. You’d lay against the plush grass without worrying about stains or getting dirty with Muichiro’s head balanced lazily on your stomach. His fingers would feel around for yours if they weren’t already buried into his long strands, twirling them around each of your nubs when you got tired of braiding them. Sometimes you’d hum a tune you’d heard once as a child or while in some town, playing this silly game with Muichiro where you’d make up lyrics and he’d have to continue them.

When the rain turned your usual spot to mud, Muichiro would build some semblance of a fort near the fireplace while you boiled tea. “ Careful Mui, it’s hot” you warned, placing the steaming glass cups on the floor, Muichiro pushed together the cushions laying back while bringing you with him. He hummed first this time, singing a silly tune about a fish who wanted to visit the moon that made you laugh. Life felt simple and sweet.

Mitsuri:

Mitsuri wanted nothing more than to die knowing she had an epic, romantic love story like the ones in the fables she heard as a girl, a bond that she found in you. Cuddling with Mitsuri was special in all sorts of ways and always felt like the right way to settle things. Sometimes cuddling was a chance to be vulnerable together or a way to talk about each other’s day when free time had been sparse for either of you.

One of your favorite types of cuddles followed a big meal enjoyed together. Neither of you were professional chefs, but on special nights you both would go all out and cook too many delicious dishes that you always finished. You’d become so full that you'd allow the dirty dishes to pile up in the sink, you’d both change into comfy sleepwear to get into bed. On some nights, you both have just enough energy to stay up to talk about life, but on others, it was a bit harder, the warmth of each other pressed together and the swollen bellies made sleep sound so good.

Sometimes cuddles are born out of relief only a demon slayer would understand, the kind where your stomach can’t leave the floor and your throat is too tight to speak. Some missions are harder than others, especially at the rank you’re both at, so when Mitsuri couldn’t be found after one mission you became restless and riddled with worry, horrible ‘what if’s?’ drowning out all reason. When you found her cut-up and disorientated, you couldn’t help but sob at her side as medic’s tended to her; she was hurt badly, but alive. You babied her for every night she was in recovery (and some after because she loved the attention), cuddling her even if your arms were asleep.

Main Masterlist

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #mitsuri x fem! reader #mitsuri x reader #muichiro x reader #genya x reader

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moonlights-inkwell · 4 years

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It’s Not Fair

Summary: The thing that will see you into an early grave is almost definitely going to be Jaskier ignoring you.

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 4,361

A/N: Me? Writing fics again? After like 2 Years? It’s more likely than you think. I’m kinda obsessed with Joey Batey and The Amazing Devil... so enjoy some Jaskier fic, clearly based on Fair by TAD.

This might just be the thing that kills you. After gods only know how long traveling with the Butcher of Blaviken, how many times you’ve seen the business end of a sword, or how many fights in taverns you’ve been involved in, it seems that the thing that will be the end of you won’t be a gaping slash or stab wound or even hunger, no bleeding out against the wall of some dingy inn or dying heroically in battle for you. No, the thing that will see you into an early grave is almost definitely going to be Jaskier ignoring you.

Well. Not you specifically. Really, he’s ignoring everyone, and when everyone in your travelling party is only two other people and a horse, that’s difficult; especially seeing as Geralt and Roach are hardly conversationally gifted. For the past four or so days Jaskier has been silent as the dead, not a word had passed his lips; not so much as a ‘good morning’, ‘good night’ or ‘kiss my arse'. Talking, singing, story-telling- it’s his job, his lifeline, everything that your Dandelion lives and breathes for. You’ve known him for years now, spent endless nights with him laughing, singing, talking endlessly, but now he’s quieter than a graveyard. It’s not just out of character, it’s worrying.

You hate the silence, but more so than the silence you miss his touch. Since the two of you have become involved with each other, the Bard has sought out any and all opportunities to touch you (and when none came, he would create them), and now there’s nothing. Four days without a warm hand to gently squeeze yours as you walked or wind an arm about your waist while sitting in front of a fire at night, and it’s enough to make you want to scream. You aren’t courting. You aren’t, but it’s hard to remind yourself that when everything is as it should be. If anything, the two of you actively dance around the courtship without ever really entering it, at least in your eyes, and as a result what you share is so much more and less than that, unnamed and unknowable. You no longer linger around bars at taverns to flutter your eyelashes in exchange for free drinks, Jaskier no longer sniffs around any skirt that he sees, reserving his flirting for during performances. The two of you are intimate, seeking each other out in the night both to find release and to simply lay in each other’s arms, and you have to force yourself not to succumb to the overwhelming urge to stare at him, moon-eyed, while he performs, encouraging patrons to be generous with their coin; really it’s hard not to stare at him while he just smiled, or breathed, adding his music to the conversation makes it harder still. But you are not courting, no matter what the passing touches or delicate pet names would make strangers comment about how lovely a couple you are. Geralt does it too, in the moments when he feels like talking, though his comments are always snarky and in passing than anything else, and makes you try and impress upon him that you and Jaskier are not a couple, no matter what he thinks he sees between the two of you. It feels more like you’re just trying to remind yourself of that, to keep the thought of the bard and yourself out of your mind. Courting, romancing, whatever you could call it, it requires love, and neither of you have told each other that you’re in love, which is important, or so you think. And you do think. Often. Mostly during the night, curled up with him and feeling the warmth of his breath dance against your skin, how easy it could be to just... let yourself say it, to whisper your love to him, release yourself from the much too comfortable purgatory that the two of you have fashioned for yourselves. Your mother always called you brave, and more often bold, impertinent, stubborn or headstrong before you decided running away with a Witcher and his bard was a good idea, but even your bravery does not extend that far. You can’t just do a thing like that; just reveal how much you do actually love him. It’s an easy thing to show, by sitting awake at night with him or buying him the lavender oil that he pours into his baths, but saying it is something else entirely. It would be humiliating, and well... improper. You’ve never cared about impropriety before, but when it comes to making yourself vulnerable? You care. Especially when more than anything you want him to just say that he loves you.

The night before it all started, life had been as normal. Settled in the closest space to a clearing as the three of you could find to make camp, a barely lit fire sent as much dim light out as it possibly could, and even less warmth than that. Geralt, as he normally did, had settled himself in the treeline, close to Roach for him to meditate, while Jaskier was beside you. He claimed that he preferred to be alone during the night but you assume, at least in part, that Geralt’s distance had developed as a result of you and Jaskier being as close as you are and was hoping to avoid seeing things that he would have rather not between the two of you. The bard had curled up around you on your shared bedroll, forehead buried between your shoulder blades and arms wound tight around your waist, while peppering gentle kisses to your skin between whispered sweet nothings to lull you to sleep. It had grown to be routine, this chaste level of intimacy that saw him try to serenade you into slumber while holding you close like you might be ripped away at any time, it was normal. Made you forget, however momentarily, the dangers you faced traveling with a Witcher, because nothing existed outside of the confines of the warm arms that held you like you were something precious. It becomes, in these moments, far, far too easy to forget that you two are not a couple; that this isn’t an unspoken love shared with the man behind you, that he doesn’t love you.

“Dear heart, I could sing about your eyes until I died, and I still don’t think I’d ever do them justice.” He whispered against the back of your neck as you drifted quickly into sleep, followed by something that had been said too quietly for you to even pick up on. Tongue rendered useless by tiredness, you didn’t ask what he had said, but noticed how his breath hitched after saying it and intended to ask him when you woke up. But you didn’t, and he didn’t speak a word all day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. The first day you had blamed yourself entirely, sure that you had done something to upset him into being quiet, but now you’ve veered into just being upset at him in turn for it. Jaskier’s always been so open, too much so even, about his feelings, so his reluctance to share is confusing and hard not to take to heart. He’s even began sleeping apart from you, and it hurts. His nightly whispering while holding you close have become the only way that you can sleep, and the past few nights have seen you lay awake- holding your own arms in a pathetic replacement for the embrace you want from the man sat away from you, melancholically plucking at the strings of his lute and staring at the moon as if it was keeping the answers to every question he had ever had.

It’s hard not to take his newfound fondness for the quiet personally. It’s deliberate. You know it’s deliberate that he’s silent and trailing behind; and worse still, seemingly so does the Witcher.

Geralt always rides ahead on Roach, leaving the two of you to talk and sing to your hearts’ content without being bothered with it- but now the mare keeps pace with you or, maybe now without a bard to laugh and play with, you keep pace with her. The White Wolf has never been much of a conversationalist, normally Jaskier’s mile-a-minute chatter and songs fill the gap for him, but with his sudden silence you’ve started noticing Geralt grunting to you every hour or so to initiate a moment or so of conversation before you both settle back into your usual quiet travel. It’s appreciated. Little as it is, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s willing to try so that you don’t feel uncomfortable, though it’s beyond his own realm of comfort.

The song the silent bard is plucking is melancholy and slow, and it takes everything in you not to look over your shoulder to him every time the notes turn sour, or simply stop. It’s strange to hear him play without singing accompanying it. You grew up with a mother who was more lark than Lady, flitting about and singing songs of love, which you hated. They all would always include waifish women who withered and died without a man to lavish them with love and attention, leaning on every cringe inducing stereotype of femininity; the kinds that made you want to shake them by their shoulders until they gained some sort of courage about them. Simpering and cooing had never been what you thought would encourage love. But now, in this exact moment? You might just understand those women from the ballads entirely, if the vice tight feeling in your chest is any indication.

Maybe that’s a sign of how much you love him, you think to yourself as you and Geralt finally break through the thicket of the woods, the sight of the bustling town around you filling you with a familiarity that only slightly loosened the tightness in your chest. Surely if the lack of him is painful and driving you to distraction, then it can’t be anything but. Nearby crowds all but engulfing you and your companion without second thought on their way to wherever they’re headed makes you feel all at once welcomed and isolated, surrounded by people but entirely alone. The sound of a sudden grunt beside you and Roach’s quiet whiney draws you from your thoughts, and your eyes dart up to the man closest to you. The Witcher gestures slightly towards the town square and tilts his head slightly,

“Find an inn.” He says simply as the mare's pace slows to a stop. You open your mouth to argue, with him almost certainly going to find his contract someone would need to wait for Jaskier, but the words don’t reach your mouth before he cuts you off. “I’ll wait for the bard. Get a room and some food.” He says it in such a way that lets you know there is no room for argument, though the command is hardly a hardship. Geralt can tell how tired you are, how your pace is slowing with the growing darkness beneath your eyes, and though the man will always claim he feels no emotions, you can see the pity in his ember eyes. Somewhere warm with food and other people who speak sounds heavenly, so without a word you nod with a smile. He doesn't smile back- he never does- but the look he gives is as close to one as he will give.

“...Fine. But you had better find me.” The brusque harshness you had hoped for is instead a tired plea, which Geralt nods at.

“Rest.” Is his only response before Roach nudges you forward with her head, sending you off on your way. It feels all too much like being reprimanded by a parent, but genuine concern is hard to come by, and even harder to come by Geralt being open in his compassion, so you let yourself walk off on your search for an inn.

////

When the Bard and Witcher find you, you’ve been sat in the inn warming yourself, barely able to keep your eyes open. The barmaid, a kindly older woman who had took one look at you and ushered you towards the fire roaring towards the corner of the spacious room all while forcing a bowl of broth into your hands saying you looked half dead, had been periodically looking over at you and then the door. You had insisted on staying down there, instead of in one of the two rooms you had rented, just so you could be easily found, but staying awake was growing harder to do. Eyes finally flickering shut, you jolt awake at the feeling of a cold hand on your shoulder. Geralt, stoic as ever, stands behind you with an enraged looking Jaskier stood a foot behind him, looking for all the world like a reprimanded child.

“I told you to rest.” Geralt says, ember eyes watching you with a look that was lingering somewhere between amusement and disappointment.

“...I was waiting for you two.” It sounds weak, but it’s true. The two men sit down across from you, Jaskier keeping his distance from Geralt and his eyes focused on the floor. Something’s happened, if the scowl on both of their faces is anything to go on, but you can’t bring yourself to ask what’s going on. “...I got two rooms.” Neither says a word in response, and you look down to stifle a yawn.

“Witcher!” A voice from across the tavern calls out, bringing with it a call of drunken appreciation from the rest of the patrons, shouting about the White Wolf. Some begin an out of tune rendition of Toss a Coin, which only serves to make Geralt cringe. You aren’t entirely sure if he prefers the monikers or the out and out cruelty. At least those are open about their hatred, instead of hiding their distain behind songs and treating him like a sideshow attraction. White Wolf, you can’t imagine mocking a man who gets called a thing like that. In spite of himself, Jaskier’s chest puffs with pride at the sound of people singing his song, pride written across his face. Some other patron sees the lute strapped to the bard’s back and recognises him, calling out his name which sends him springing to his feet with a bow, all but running to his adoring audience.

“He’s a fool.” Geralt says, gesturing the barmaid for some ale.

“I’m aware.”

“I told him such.” That you were not aware of. “He’s no idea how badly he’s treating you.” You hadn’t assumed Geralt really cared, that awkward as it may be, he probably appreciated not hearing you and the bard’s constant chatter.

“...Thank you.” You say unsurely, but he nods and gestures to the stairs.

“Don’t. Just sleep. You need it.”

You don’t argue, just clap a hand gratefully on top of his and walk past Jaskier on your way upstairs, not seeing how his eyes lingered on your frame as you disappear from view.

///

The sound of the door to your room creaking open causes you to crack one eye open, but in the near pitch of the room you’re confused. It had only been about ten minutes since you fell onto the mattress and curled yourself into a ball and the sun had still been high at that point. It’s dark, save for a candle you don’t remember lighting, and realise that what you had intended to be nought but a quick rest had turned into the sleep you hadn’t been able to find outside of Jaskier’s arms. The door opens slowly, and even in your sleep addled state you find yourself clenching a hand and readying yourself to strike at whoever dared to let themselves in, but you stop at the sight of your Dandelion, barely illuminated by the light of the single candle flickering on your bedside table. He’s creeping in and gently shutting the door behind him so as not to wake you up. You had assumed he would wind up sharing Geralt’s chambers seeing as he’s chosen not to sleep beside you for days, and tiredly you smile, reminded of other nights resting in taverns when he‘s performed and slept wrapped around you like a blanket. He is Not Your Dandelion, something cruel in the back of your mind tells you wiping the smile from your face, and you roll over towards the window. He lays down his instrument and begins pulling off his doublet, whispering into the darkness,

“Dear Heart? Are you Awake?” You could cry at the sound of his voice- so sweet and familiar, whispering his pet name for you in the same caring tone he usually reserves for when you’re injured- spoken for the first time in days. He takes your silence as a no, clambers as delicately as he can to the bed and settles on the edge, pulling his boots off and letting them fall to the floor with a quiet ‘thud’, followed a few seconds later by another. A few seconds later he finds himself once more in the space that he always occupies behind you; hairy chest pressed against your back, arms around your waist, forehead pressed in the valley between your shoulders. It’s as if the days of silence never happened, and you could almost pretend they hadn’t but that wouldn’t be right. You’re still angry. Who do you think you are? You long to scream at him. Staying silent yourself, you breathe out deeply and the bard laughs softly, fanning warm breath down your back.

“I’m sorry.” For the laughter or ignoring you, you’re unsure, but as he has been so inclined the last few days, he falls back into silence. What little light the candle has been giving off has lessened even still as your eyes flit from the wall to the window. Pinpricks of light cut through the inky blue of the night sky, but you can’t see the moon. The moon and stars are the best part of sleeping outdoors, constant companions that glitter and know you, have always known you and always will. You miss them.

Spurred on by either your presumed sleep or the lingering high of his performance, Jaskier continues on quietly. “I’m sorry Dear Heart, I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I’ve certainly done a good job of showing you that in the past few days...I, I.” He struggles in spite of his usual skill with words and presses a kiss to your spine, which seems to ground him. “I had such a grand plan in my head. Spent all day every day trying to write the words for you, and I ignored you.” He sounds so unsure of himself, which is almost enough to distract you from the idea of his struggling for words about you of all people. “...the words just are not coming though. You probably think I’m an arse. I do. Geralt clearly does. He made that more than clear after my performance. I missed you. I’m so used to you being there after my performances.” You usually are, waiting for him with a mouth full of compliments and kisses. “I’ll... I’ll tell you now, and maybe you’ll dream it so, when you wake, you won’t want to smash my lute over my head or castrate me.” He chuckles weakly, and you struggle in vain not to smile even though you know that he can’t see your face.

“It... it’s not fair.” His voice shakes slightly, and all at once you expect the worst. “It’s not fair how much I love you.” He follows the words with a kiss to the back of your neck, which only encourages him, whispering his declaration of love and affection into what he presumes is a sleeping audience. “It’s not fair. And it never will be. You’re so... beautiful, and clever and stronger than me, I know. And I love you. And I always will- My rotting bones will sing how much I love you when the rest of me is dead.” He says feverishly, fingers pads calloused by years of playing lute brush gently across the expanse of your stomach, eventually finding a resting place on your hip. “When you smile and sing with my songs... I understand the reason I was born. Melitele, Dear Heart...”

His voice cracks and something warm and wet drips onto the warmed skin of your back, making you realise that your bard, silly, foolish, perfect Jaskier, was so overcome by his feelings that he was crying. And from the streaks of wet lining your cheeks and making home in the pillows, so were you. Days spent dwelling on the thought that his silence was indifference, never once considering that maybe he was... afraid. You had never considered that Jaskier had ever felt insecure a moment in his life. He floats above those things, as all beautiful, talented people do, but now here he’s admitting that he loves you, has been afraid that he loves you.

The tightness in your chest squeezes once more before dissipating entirely. Daydreams of confessions had seen the two of you bathed in starlight, or sat in a field of buttercups, never once had you imagined it would be in a dark and somewhat smelly rented room. It feels appropriate, and you begin to shake with laughter. Days of silent strumming and hissed curses make sense when you consider him trying to avoid your hearing his confession of love before he felt it finished. Idiots. Utter Idiots. The worst kind at that, the sort to wallow and pine, planning grand gestures that never reach fruition as opposed to just speaking like adults. Morons deciding that the way to show your love is to detangle from one another only to fall back together like magnets. Bloody bastard bard, fucking foolish fighter, you think, all anger from days of quiet gone like petals in a storm, what a right pair of idiots we make. Jaskier pulls up from his position to lean over you, eyes narrowed in accusatory slits, watching you silently shake with laughter.

“You’re awake.” It’s a statement, not a question, and one that sounds deeply hurt at that. Overcome with the relief that he doesn’t hate you, and in fact rather loves you, the thought of how it must look for him to confess his love only to be laughed at doesn’t cross your mind, and so the hurt look in his eyes catches you off guard. “I. I see. I’ll... let you rest.” With that, he begins to pull away from you. After nights of coldness and no sleep you simply can’t bare another night without him, causing you to surge up, grabbing him by his forearms firmly enough to keep him in place without hurting him. Moments before you fall asleep where he clutched you like he loved you fell into place in your mind. He did. He does. He loves you. You want to laugh, scream, yell from the rooftops, but really all you want to do is slam your mouth into his and kiss him like the world will end if you don’t. But there is something to do first. Faces barely an inch apart, your lips turn up in a ghost of a smile.

“Oh Julian,” You whisper quietly into the almost-darkness and feel his breath hitch against the delicate skin of your lips. He'd forgotten. Of course, he had forgotten. His real name was something scarcely spoken, and something you had only learned because he had felt especially emotional once while buried to the hilt inside of you and desperate to hear you moan his real name instead of his moniker. It had felt much too personal to use in front of other people, but now in this moment, it feels only right.

“You don’t have to pity me, Dear Heart-”

“How unreasonable.” You cut him off, fingers straying from their place around his arm to gently trace around the angle of his jaw, lips brushing against his with every syllable spoken. “...How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do.” Fear of vulnerability falls away like waves, and it feels like salvation to speak the words out loud .

His face breaks into a grin, roughness of unshaven scruff shifting against your fingertips, and his own hands scrabble up to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss. It’s nothing like what you know from him. Even in your most desperate of moments, Jaskier kisses like you’re made of smoke and a push that is even slightly too hard will see him destroy you; but now it’s hard and needy, a mashing of teeth and tongue against lip that draws shocked but delighted sighs. He normally prefers to be slow, gently build up, but now he isn’t. It’s clumsy. Everything recently has been clumsy, songs unsung, hands not held, words unspoken, now all poured desperately into a kiss that begs you to stay. I know I’ve been a fool, it seems to say, but I’ll spend every hour of ever day proving I’m not a fool, and that I love you. You believe it.

“Gods you’ll be the death of me.” He murmurs against your lips like there’s nothing he wants more in the world than to be destroyed by you. The feeling is mutual. Being ruined, broken, pulled apart piece by piece by the Bard, kissing you as if with enough pressure you two will become one, sounds like the most beautiful way to end it all, especially when his tongue dips coyly into the cavern of your mouth before retreating and breaking away from you, breathing deeply.

“You dare just start ignoring me again...” You whisper breathlessly, but the feeling of him pressing his forehead into yours silences you.

“I’d need my tongue cut out to not speak to you, Dear Heart.” He reassures you, deft fingers pressing against your lips. “...I’m sorry. I love you. I didn’t want you to... go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.“ You believe him.

#jaskier x reader #Jaskier imagine #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you #the witcher #witcher x reader #self insert

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

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Some Riven x Musa x Layla Headcanons

That Just Won’t Leave Me Alone

I accidentally developed the idea of this OT3 a while ago and the feels hit me today so I decided to write out some headcanons. They are not “explicitly” together by the end of it as I did it more in a way that would have been possible to portray on the show as well. But you can fill in the more overt parts for yourselves. ;)

- Layla and Riven stay up all night watching over Nabu’s grave after his funeral. They aren’t exactly sure why they do that, both of them hoping that it will all turn out to be a nightmare and he’ll come back but both of them knowing that that is a foolish hope to voice so they just stay behind after everyone else has left and spend the night there in silence.

- The two of them have several nights over the summer where they will just get together and drink themselves into a stupor. Neither of them wants to talk about it so the other is the perfect company in which to drown their sorrow. Musa is getting worried about them but once Tritannus happens, they stop their drinking routine because they need to have their heads in the game.

- That seems to have a negative effect, however, since they are both more irate and antsy after losing their grief outlet. Layla has her family to worry about now that Tritannus is threatening them all and Riven is worried about both Musa and Layla (and the other Winx but his focus is more on the two of them) because they are constantly exposed to danger. Layla doesn’t mind (unlike with Roy) because she knows what feelings Riven is putting into his protective actions. She would give anything to be able to protect her family and her planet as well as the rest of the universe from Tritannus and she can use his help as well as that of the rest of her friends.

- Musa makes them both playlists that reflect on their relationships with Nabu to help them get through it and show her support. She is dragged back into her own feelings of loss over her mother’s death and she understands how hard it is on them. It is hard on her, too, and she wants to help but talking just doesn’t feel like an option so she turns to music instead. Riven almost destroys the whole dorm room while listening to the playlist but it helps him get out his feelings. Layla cries herself to sleep for weeks on end while listening to the songs but they do have a therapeutic effect on her and make it a little easier to hold herself together when she is hit with a bout of grief over something little someone says or does that reminds her of Nabu.

- The three of them spar together whenever they have time. Winx are busy with the Sirenix Quest but Layla and Riven both get frantic if they have to spend a day without intense physical activity so they find the time to spar together even if it is in the middle of the night. Musa sticks with them, mostly to help bring them both down and ground them in a more peaceful atmosphere once they are done. They don’t hold back while sparring but neither of them has hurt the other seriously despite that and they all agree that those sessions are both productive and relaxing for them.

- The first time he meets Roy, Riven grabs him while no one is looking and threatens him to leave Layla alone until she has processed everything and grieved Nabu properly at the very least unless he wants to disappear forever. Layla told Riven about Roy being sent by her father to protect her and how it made her feel (she understands her father’s concerns but she hates being treated like she’s fragile and Roy’s apparent fascination with her doesn’t help). Roy backs off after that on the romantic front but still tries to get to know Layla - and Riven - and he actually starts finding his place in the group.

- Riven turns to Layla when he wants to write and compose a song for Musa to show his appreciation for everything she’s been doing for him and his support for her while she’s dealing with her own emotions. Her encouragement is invaluable to him and she keeps things from falling apart between him and Musa while he is busy working on his guitar skills and actually writing the song. Layla helps him a lot with the lyrics and melody of the song to the point where he asks her to play it with him. Layla is on the drums while Riven and Timmy play guitar and Layla sings with Riven (and Musa) during the chorus. It turns out that Roy also plays the drums and he and Layla find another thing they have in common on top of their love for surfing (and sports in general) and their similar fighting styles.

- The budding connection with Roy helps Layla a lot during the summer while she is dealing with the aftermath of Tritannus’ actions. Roy knows a lot about Andros and helps her come up with strategies to restore the realm back to how it was before Tritannus started his attempted reign of terror. Roy is being a lot more respectful towards her feelings on the losses she and the entire realm experienced now and the two of them make a great team. Layla feels comfortable spending time with him even outside of their formal responsibilities.

- Meanwhile, Musa is on Melody to help the planet adjust to the consequences of the cultural shock that the attack on the Singing Whales and the Pillar of Balance was. She also spends a lot of time at home just absorbing the atmosphere and trying to capture it into her music in case something happens to her childhood home. She didn’t feel it right to bring her mother back but she can’t bear the thought of losing all the memories their house is imbued with in case it gets destroyed so she attempts to weave them into her music, even using magic to ensure the success of that endeavor. Music is her safe place after the shocks of losing Nabu and trying to help Layla and Riven through their grief and trauma while also dealing with her own losses and the scars that the near ruination of her whole realm caused.

- Riven is on Zenith helping Tecna with whatever there is left on the planet to fix after the clash with Tritannus. Zenith is pretty organized and efficient so there isn’t that much to do but Riven is relieved to be with Tecna because she doesn’t insist on talking about his feelings and he has a lot of those. He is terrified of what almost happened to both Musa and Layla while he wasn’t there to help them and he resolves to train harder to be able to protect them and all the rest of his friends. He wouldn’t bear to see any one of them suffer any more, not to mention lose them. Tecna helps him strategize to improve his efficiency in battle and she is the perfect embodiment of Zenith after her wish for empathy. Her quiet but friendly presence is soothing for Riven while the whole planet seems to warm up. It is the perfect atmosphere for him to work through his feelings.

- Musa and Riven soon fall into their usual dynamic of misunderstandings and lack of communication when Musa needs his moral support but refuses to actually talk to him while Riven spends all his time training because to him it is more important to ensure that Musa will be safe and he will be able to protect her. Layla is sorting out her own emotions and even though she tries to be there for them and help them resolve things, she has her own issues and it is not her job to babysit them and their relationship. They have to figure it out for themselves while she does her best to support both of them.

- Layla has strong opinions on Nex when they meet since he reminds her a lot of the impression Riven left in her at first, only - a worse version. She decides to give him a chance anyway because getting closer to Riven actually revealed other sides to him but she only ever regards Nex as a potential friend. He isn’t quite as bad as she originally thought him to be but he also definitely isn’t someone that she would want to be in a relationship with. She is spending a lot of time with Roy and she really likes him but, ultimately, she knows that she isn’t crazy about him. Being with him is comfortable but she is deliberately not letting herself get attached to him too much and that very fact tells her that he isn’t the right one for her since if she really loved him, she would have allowed herself to do so fully like she does with all of her friends despite the constant risk of losing them that she faces every time they have to fight a threat of universal magnitude. She tells Roy it would be better not to see each other.

- Musa and Riven break-up because they both feel like they are holding on so tight to each other for the wrong reasons. They are terrified of losing the other but they aren’t doing such a great job of appreciating them exactly because of those fears. So they decide to separate - meaning absolutely no expectations and demands towards the other - and do some soul searching. Riven actually keeps in touch with Roy since they started getting along decently and he knows that Roy is now the most removed one from the group while he is also on Andros so he may have more up-to-date information on how Layla and Musa are doing than the media (he is not spying on them, just telling Riven things he’s heard on Andros). Riven wants to keep his distance from the friend group but still wants to know how they’re all doing and Roy occasionally has news on the rest as well from when they visit Andros.

- Musa and Layla both spend a lot of time on their home worlds whenever that is possible and there isn’t an ongoing crisis and try to process their emotions while navigating political matters. Musa loves spending time on Andros with Layla and helping her out with her duties as heiress to the throne and Layla (and the other Winx) accompanies Musa during all of her concerts when Musa signs a record label as a single artist since they all agree that the band is just for fun and coordinating it along with all their other responsibilities will be nearly impossible. Musa truly opens up her heart and pours it all out into her music and she becomes a rising star on top of coming to terms with who she has become during her journey. The songs (and all the dancing routines that the two of them come up with together) help Layla make her peace with her trauma - both over Nabu and that from her childhood - as well.

- Riven comes back and proves to have done a lot of work on himself and he feels ready to love Musa now - feelings which she reciprocates. The two decide to settle on Andros to be close to Layla and help her out with everything she needs. Riven actually rises to the head of Layla’s personal guard and Musa has tours all over the Magic Dimension so she’d be on the move a lot whether she’d live on Melody or on Andros. Riven worries about her when she is on tour and he can’t go with her while he’s busy protecting Layla but he’s personally trained the bodyguards he hired for Musa and he trusts her to take care of herself so he settles for only calling her several times a day when she’s away and watching her concerts live on his devices together with Layla whenever the two of them can’t be there to see the show in person.

- Layla does not feel ready to get married or even be in a relationship with anyone besides Musa and Riven but she does want kids, especially after she proudly becomes an aunt to several children with Stella and Bloom going ahead and becoming mothers soon after their weddings. She is also supposed to make sure that Andros has heirs to the throne so she decides to adopt. She talks to Daphne, who adopted children as well, and even Vanessa to learn about their experiences and ask for advice. She wants to adopt at least two children because she doesn’t want her kids to be lonely and wants them to have someone they can always count on. Along with her, Musa and Riven, of course.

- Both Musa and Riven have big reactions to the news. They are supportive of her, of course - heaven knows the high society and the officials of Andros have already busied themselves enough with being critical of her decision - but they also have their own feelings to handle. Musa has to deal with the knowledge that she will adore Layla’s children (as she does with Bloom and Stella’s) and she will worry about them. That is the reason she still hasn’t thought about about having children herself. Or rather, she has been doing her best to avoid it while spending some of the best days of her life with Bloom and Stella’s children. She is scared of leaving the children orphans if anything happens to her and/or Riven (and that is always a possibility in their line of work). She knows that the rest of Winx will take care of her children if something happens to her but she has been through the pain of losing a parent and she doesn’t want her own kids to go through the same even if she managed to move on and pick herself up after her mother’s death. It is still a thing she carries with her every day and she does not feel confident in raising children with the heightened risk for her life.

- Riven totally panics because he doesn’t know anything about children and he will have to interact with them and take care of them. Not just because of his job as the head of Layla’s security, but also because he wants to be there for her and help her raise the children since it wouldn’t be easy for her to do it as a single parent. So he does the only thing he can think of and actually goes to Sky and Brandon asking for advice and a crash course on things he needs to know to be of help to Layla.

- Riven also picks up audio books on parenting and him and Layla both listen to them while jogging together or traveling towards the venue of a royal event. Musa is about as enthusiastic about shopping for the kids as Stella is and she’s also ready to write lullabies specifically for them (in case they are at an age where they will listen to lullabies). They both do everything they can to help Layla prepare herself and learn how to do things right themselves because they want to be there for her and be a part of the process. And they are both enthusiastic about doing it.

- In fact, their enthusiasm rapidly turns into conversations about having kids themselves - which makes Layla (and the other Winx) ecstatic because she is looking forward to helping them out as well - and it isn’t that long before they decide to make that step in their relationship despite not being officially married. They also talk about adopting as well as having their own children because they want to give a home to a kid that needs it. So the three of them end up raising their kids together and the children all think of each other as siblings and stick together no matter what.

#winx club #winx layla #winx riven #winx musa #riven x musa x layla #ot3 #winx headcanons

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anthropwashere · 3 years

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deadfic: our indestructible days ch 1

More deadfic for the Good Intentions WIP Fest, though since the event’s over I’ll spare the poor mod yet more of my horseshit.

This was, in fact, the first fic I really tackled post 2017 BH watch! And boy does it show. I’m doing y’all a favor by editing it to hell and back before posting any of it, honest. Due to that however, I don’t know how many chapters there will be. At least 4, since that’s as far as I’ve gotten in the editing process. We shall see!

All you need to know for this one is: What if Kimblee didn’t stop Pride from possessing Ed on the Promised Day? :)

Title comes from Puscifer’s “Dear Brother.”

The air burns against his flaking skin, molten stone growing dark yet still radiating a dangerous heat. Everyone else has gone after Father, the rattle and scrape of transmuted stone fading. It's just the two of them now, the alchemist and the homunculus, and Pride has the upper hand.

“This container won’t last much longer,” he says matter-of-factly, leaping down to stand before the boy. In the dusty sunlight filtering in from above Edward Elric’s eyes shine, catlike and calculating. His breathing is ragged, spit between clenched teeth. He’s pinned by cords of unyielding shadow. If he struggles much harder, Pride might break something.

That thought demands brief consideration. It would be satisfying to take Edward apart bone by brittle bone, to take his pound of flesh for the damage incurred to his Philosopher’s Stone. The left arm would sever easily, if he but sharpened his shadows. Tempting, yes, but ultimately pointless.

“But still,” he continues thoughtfully, a new plan already fallen into place. “Like my father is, you are of Hohenheim's bloodline. We’re virtually brothers. Which means, Edward Elric, I can use your container. Your body belongs to me!”

It is an easy thing to invade the bloodstream, entering through a thin cut on the boy’s cheek. Pride fills every vein and artery with shadows until Edward’s heart is smothered, his blood sludge. He ignores the screams, the uptick in thrashing. This is tricky work, something only achieved twice before, and he hadn't seen either success firsthand. His Stone is too big for such a little cut. He spares a tendril of himself to stab the boy's chest, wrenching open a wound big enough to deposit his core directly against the thrashing heart within. Connective tissue regrows at a breakneck pace, sewing him irrevocably into a body a thousand times more complex than his original container.

With that taken care of Pride lashes out with a snap of white teeth, unfettering the strangled soul. The body still writhes, pain a thing of the flesh rather than the spirit, but there is less resistance after that. If it's lucky, the boy's soul will be absorbed into his Stone, its energy and knowledge assimilated, made useful. Then again it could simply burn up in the transference, an ember caught in a cold wind.

Either way, that which was called Edward Elric will no longer be a concern.

What a big fuss Wrath made of it, with his story of the man who became a homunculus who became King. A little pain suffered is nothing, when the alternative is death.

Edward’s screaming makes this all the sweeter.

Without its contents, his old container collapses to so much dust and an empty pile of clothing, and—

—ah.

There are memories, kept just beneath the surface of Edward’s dying panic. The mind is easy to parse when the soul is absent. Old night terrors, old horrors. Loneliness. What a childish thing to fear.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Waiting— dreading— the body’s rejection of him.

But it never comes. Barely a shudder of resistance, the only lash of alchemical reaction his Stone instinctively healing injuries the boy had incurred.

The silence after that's finished is a breathless, giddy surprise.

Pride tests his new container carefully, casting an unhappy glance at the automail arm he’s now saddled with. It’s an unpleasant weight, cold and heavy; the leg much the same. It'll take time he doesn't have to adjust to them. How pathetic, that humans must rely on machinery to recover from serious injury. Once he’s regained some of his strength he’ll have to do something about them.

Something shifts within him, a sensation not unlike vertigo stealing his breath. Pride hesitates, wobbling on unfamiliar limbs, but the feeling passes. He smiles. A strong bloodline indeed.

“Fight all you wish,” he says aloud. “I've won.”

Even his voice has changed. His true voice is marred, pitched deeper. Weighed down. He is weighed down by this new container. It's strange. This is all very strange. But he must adjust quickly, for the battle isn’t won yet.

He shakes unfamiliar blond hair from his new container’s eyes, looking up through the hole punched through the many underground floors beneath Central Command. Four thin stone pillars ascend through it, stretching all the way up to the parade grounds. Such a distance. Even the sacrifices shouldn't have been capable of stretching so much material so high without it collapsing. What did they do? What was that array they activated that allowed them to perform alchemy again?

The fight has shifted. He must return to the fray, now that he’s been renewed. Father would—

Father expects him to—

No.

Not yet. He’s not strong enough to rejoin that fight, yet. His Stone was damaged even more than they’d anticipated when he forced Mustang through the Gate.

Pride sniffs, tasting the air. There are humans nearby; more souls to consume. He licks his lips and sends his grinning shadows upward.

He is hungry.

Major General Armstrong kneels beside the body of Führer King Bradley, hating that she's been sideline for what is surely the most decisive battle Amestris has ever seen. Her men are up there, where that pale creature had ascended only minutes ago atop a pillar of molten stone. Bullets and mortars were near useless against the lesser homunculi; what could their Father be capable of?

Her pulse is still racing, a sour taste settled in her mouth. She knows acutely what it feels like to die, and the experience has left her feeling hollowed out in a way she's unsure of how to voice. She remembers a maelstrom of suffering, countless voices begging for release. It's not something she'd wish on a Drachman, let alone endure again. If not for the Elric brothers' father she'd still be trapped in that hell. They all would be.

Is it fear that still makes her heart pound, or cowardice?

Her lip curls. Fear is justified. Fear is the intelligent reaction. To fear something means you're paying attention. Cowardice, however....

She shakes her head. Four of the human sacrifices—Izumi Curtis, Alphonse Elric, Van Hohenheim, and Mustang—had been afraid, and yet still determined to stop that monster. Even blinded Mustang hadn't hesitated to fight on, utilizing the famed Hawk's Eye to direct his flame attacks. It's both begrudging and gratifying, to realize the man has a stronger spine than she'd thought.

The fifth, Fullmetal, is still below fighting Pride. There'd been sounds of combat, and then screaming, but it's gone quiet now. The distance and echo distorting the sounds had made it impossible to determine who had been doing the screaming. The lot of them on this level have been keeping a wary eye on the hole in the floor since then. They don't know what that particular homunculus is capable of and the only alchemist left here is the serial killer Scar, and he's in no shape to assist. The idiot boy had better not die while the battle's still on.

She eases to her feet, hissing pain despite her best efforts, and cats her sight on the blue sky above. A single blast of power had punched a hole in this underground labyrinth clear through to the surface. How can they defend against something like that?

Bah. Defeatist's talk. The alchemists will do all they can to do just that, and her men will support them. They're Briggs men. They'll do whatever it—

"What the hell?!"

"What is that?!"

She turns sharply toward where the few soldiers who'd insisted on staying behind as a protection detail are gathered. They've all drawn their weapons, aiming at the hole in the floor. Ribbons of—shadows—stretch up from below, splitting open to reveal red eyes and white jaws.

Damn! And here she'd thought Fullmetal had been left behind to fight the homunculus alone for good reason! Was the boy really so useless as to die now?

"PREPARE YOURSELVES!" She bellows, striding toward the lashing shadows. A glance is all she needs to know it would be futile to try and keep distance in a room as small as this. Better to be with her men. She may have lost the use of her sword arm but this is a fight she will not—cannot—leave for her men to fight alone. "Fire at Selim Bradley the moment he shows himself!"

The red eyes narrow. The white jaws grin. Grating laughter echoes off of the stone walls. "That container has been discarded, Major General," the mouths all say in the same mocking voice. "But are you really going to risk injuring this body?"

From out of the depths a figure rises, lifted up on tendrils of shadow to step lightly onto the rubble-strewn floor. Her men curse, guns dipping. Somewhere behind her Mr. Curtis and the frog chimera inhale sharply. She can't blame any of them.

The grinning boy with living shadows curling at his boots is Fullmetal.

"Edward," Izumi's husband says, hushed. The boy pays him no mind, eyes flat and cold as coins.

"It was wise of you to stay behind," Fullmetal—no, Pride—says, still smiling. The shadows stretch and curl, painting the room in streaks of black. "Your contributions to the war effort are greatly appreciated."

Too late, she understands what he means to do. "No! Don't you dare—!"

The shadows strike, and her men begin to scream.

"Edward Elric."

His name whispered out of the murk. A voice calling him awake. He can't pinpoint where it's coming from. Everything else is so loud. There are so many people nearby, all of them screaming, all of them begging to die. Everything is so red.

"Fullmetal."

He tries to put a name to the voice. He knows it. Doesn't he know it?

Fraying. He's being... stretched. Pulled apart. Losing his sense of self.

He's losing himself.

"Surely you're not going to roll over as easily as that, are you?"

He... he knows this voice.

A pinpoint of white, searing amongst all this writhing red. The shape of a man comes into focus. White clothes, long dark hair, the wide eyes of a madman, tattoos on his outstretched palms.

"K...Kim...blee...?"

The man smiles. "Ah, so you are still in there. Good, very good."

"Where... what is... this...?"

"We've both become a part of Pride's Philosopher's Stone now. Two souls clinging to our individuality amidst a howling mob of anguish." Kimblee rocks back on his heels, throwing out his hands. His face is a picture of bliss. "Isn't it exquisite?"

He looks away, out at the writhing, the screaming. Nothing but gaping mouths and dark eye sockets everywhere he looks, the barest suggestions of human shapes. Souls. How many died to make this Stone? "It's—loud. No. No, this. This isn't. This isn't what I...."

It's getting so hard to think.

Kimblee looks almost disappointed now. "Tell me, Edward Elric. Are you truly so weak as this? Unraveling at the first glimpse of something beyond your control?"

He looks down at himself. Two arms, two legs. No automail pulling insistently at his bones. Of course not. He's only a soul, nearly as red as the others twisting all around him. He's inside a Philosopher's Stone, which makes him only one more lost soul. Wisps of red peel from his limbs, chafed and scraped away by the chaos pushing and pulling at him from all sides. He's falling apart. Losing himself. Soon he'll be nothing but babbling energy, regenerative power for the homunculus he's become a part of. For... for....

"Pride."

Kimblee raises one curious eyebrow. "That's right."

"Where—Where is he?"

"A bit preoccupied eating to overhear this conversation, if that's your concern."

He—Edward, he's Ed, gotta stay focused, he can't slip again, his name is Edward—strains, struggling to remember what happened. How he came to be like this. He was.... There had been.... Pride. Selim had been badly—injured? damaged?—after forcing the Colonel through the Gate. His container was failing. He'd pinned Ed down—pain, it had hurt—and declared that Ed would be... that Ed's body would be....

Ed's just a soul now. He doesn't have a body, no skin to prickle and no breath to catch, but a chill runs through him all the same. "He. He took my body. He made me his new container. Didn't he?"

"That's right."

No matter where Ed looks it's all souls, no glimpse of what's going on outside this Stone. Ling—and Greed, for that matter—have always had a good idea of what was going on when the other one had been in control of Ling's body. How did they—

Hold on.

Ed looks back at Kimblee, who just smiles pleasantly back. Eating. Pride can't hear them right now because he's eating. The hell does that mean?

"I can't see," Ed snaps, shoving at a soul that's drifted uncomfortably close. His hand is paler, more defined than it was before. He's got a good grip on himself again. He really should've paid more attention when Ling talked about the meditation shit he did while Greed was refusing to share. "Ugh. Where is he? What's he doing, Kimblee?"

Kimblee chuckles and waves his hand. The tempest of screaming parts like a theater curtain; bright light spills in that leaves Ed blinking and shading his eyes. He goes to it anyway. He has to know what Kimblee meant—

His sight adjusts, and he's looking at a bloodbath.

There's red sprayed across the near wall, splashed along the floor, drips and splatters and scraps of tattered uniforms everywhere he looks. A single soldier is in view, firing wildly right at Ed only to have the bullets deflected by a shadow pitted with familiar eyes and bloodstained fangs. The gun in the soldier's hands clicks, the clip emptied, and the shadow cuts him down. Ed can hear the brutal crunch of bone, the muted spurt of spilled blood, the ragged tearing of meat. He hears someone laughing. His voice. His stolen voice multiplied weirdly through the shadow mouths as Selim's had been.

Ed hollers, twisting away, but Kimblee's white hands hold him fast. The man's voice roars out, ragged with terrible glee. "Don't avert your eyes! Don't look away! That's your body out there, cutting those men down. Take credit for the destruction your hands have wrought!"

"NO! NO! That's not—it's not me—get the fuck off—I don't want this!"

"Then what are you going to do about it?!"

"—no, no, I don't—I—w-what?"

Once Ed's stopped struggling Kimblee all but drops him, still grinning from ear to ear. "I thought about interfering, when Pride first tried to take your body for himself."

"What?"

"I'm perfectly content in here, but he decided to throw away his honor as a homunculus. So proud to be what he is, that very quality he was named for, but the moment he found himself in grave danger he sought to escape into the body of a human." Kimblee snarls. "He's pathetic. A disgrace."

Ed watches his body's left hand rise, pointing at—Major General Armstrong? Her face is a mask of blood, and the rest of her isn't much better. Sig's beside her, one arm slick and hanging heavily, the other supporting Scar who looks like he narrowly escaped a meat grinder. Behind them he can just glimpse Jerso in his frog form, lying so still it's impossible to tell if he's still breathing. The window or whatever out into the real world flickers as—fuck—as Pride looks at another soldier spring out from behind cover. He empties his clip in record time, unerringly aimed at Ed's chest. Do any of the bullets hit? Do they hurt? The soldier's cradling his rifle strangely, one hand clumsily wrapped in bloodstained cloth.

"Why?" Ed asks, weary. A shadow arcs out, bristling with teeth, and bites through the man. He goes down with a bizarrely muted scream and another spray of blood. "Why didn't you stop him? This—this wouldn't be happening if you'd stopped him!"

Kimblee regards him, eyes narrowed, face unreadable. "Führer Bradley is a homunculus," he says conversationally. "And Greed. His vessel is human as well, isn't it?"

Outside, sounds of crunching, splattering, chewing. Ed watches a clean white uniform stain almost black with gore. "Yeah? So what?"

"I started to think a little, that's what." Another little chuckle. Fuck, this guy really is crazy. He's enjoying this. "The homunculi make such a fuss out of being better than humans. More evolved, above our petty fears and desires. They're so proud to be the puppeteers of this country, the hands on our yokes as they've guided us to this Promised day."

Ed watches the shadows finish off the soldier, nothing but a smear of blood and a couple glistening pieces of meat left behind. The window flickers again as Pride turns his head to regard the last of the survivors.

"It's funny," Kimblee says. "For how much they talk, they so rarely deliver on their promises. So I ask you, Edward Elric. What are you going to do now?"

The General. Sig. Jerso. Scar. They're going to die. Pride's going to kill them. For all Ed knows they might think he agreed to let Pride take his body.

He looks at his hands. He's nearly himself again, or at least as nearly like himself as he can be without his body. He's got two arms here. Two legs too. An arm and a leg, and a body, and the whole damn country on top of it now. He's made way too many promises to fail here.

Ed sets his jaw and leaps out into the light.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #my writing #murder #cannibalism #body horror #you know what i'm about at this point lbr

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thelazyhermits · 4 years

Text

A Hero In Their Eyes

Earlier this week, for my birthday, @euan112358 posted an epilogue to the Fortune birthday fic they wrote which included presents from Melissa Shield and Kouta and the Pussycats. This drabble, which is honestly too long to really be called a drabble, has to do with the conversation Iida and Midoriya had about Kouta that was in the fic.

I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

A week after your talk with Hawks, you find out from Aizawa that Kouta and the Pussycats will be paying Class 1-A and Class 1-B a visit later that day. He asks you to pass along the message to the students and puts you in charge of keeping everyone in line while the visitors are here.

Shortly after your talk with Aizawa, your Quirk activates, showing you a brief vision of Ragdoll tackling you with a hug. Obviously, the older woman is going to be very happy to see you when she comes to visit today.

Apparently, after she eventually regained consciousness, one of the first things Ragdoll said was that you had been kidnapped that night along with her. While you had no idea that she had also been taken until you saw the news articles, she could tell thanks to her Quirk during the brief period of time you were both in the same building.

Despite her obviously traumatic experience, Ragdoll’s first instinct upon waking up after being rescued was to find out how you were doing. She wanted to make sure that you had been rescued too and that you hadn’t been hurt.

You had been completely moved to tears when Aizawa told you that. Even though she could’ve been resentful over the fact that you were able to use your Quirk to save your students but not her, she wasn’t. Instead, the older woman was just genuinely worried about you and even regretful over the fact that she wasn’t able to save you.

Ragdoll truly is a hero through and through. Even though most people might not recognize her as one now that she has no Quirk, you’ll always consider her to be a hero.

That’s why you want to do something special in preparation for today’s visitors. Even though Aizawa said they won’t be staying for very long, you’d like to make something they can take with them and enjoy later when they get the chance.

So, after giving the students and Eri the big news, you head for the kitchen. While the kids are running around the dorm, working to make everything presentable for guests, you start baking a variety of cookies with the help of Satou and Eri.

Considering how much Pixie Bob and Ragdoll enjoyed the cookies they pilfered at the camp, you figure they’d be happy to receive some cookies as a present. You decide to make more than one kind since they all likely have different tastes, and you want to make cookies that they can all enjoy.

As a result, you end up spending a good amount of time in the kitchen. When the Pussycats eventually arrive for their visit, you’re actually still in the kitchen, making a few last minute touches to the cookies.

While Satou offers to stay with you to help, you tell him to go welcome the guests while you and Eri take care of finishing the cookie decorating since you’re both almost done. Once you’re completely satisfied with your work, you and Eri quickly clean yourselves up before heading for the living room.

Almost immediately after you leave the kitchen, the event from the vision you had earlier today happens.

“Kitten!”

Faster than you can blink, a green haired blur tackles you with enough force to knock you to the floor. Dimly, you’re aware of Mandalay scolding Ragdoll for her behavior while Tiger and Pixie Bob are laughing in the background. Most of the students are either fighting back the urge to laugh or are grinning at your current predicament.

Ragdoll affectionately rubs her cheek against yours as she squeezes you as tightly as possible. “It’s so good to see you, Kitten! Have you been doing well?! You look great!”

The corners of your lips quirk upwards as the older woman finally pulls her face away from yours, giving you the chance to speak. “It’s good to see you too, Ragdoll-san. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. To answer your question, I’ve been doing great. Right now, I’m feline paw-sitively purr-fect!”

And now all the Pussycats are laughing. Mandalay has a hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her laughter while Ragdoll is giggling so hard she has rolled off you and onto the floor. Naturally, your puns just make Tiger and Pixie Bob laugh harder.

Eri giggles from her spot near you, thankfully far enough away that she didn’t get knocked down along with you when you got tackled. The majority of your students react like her, with the exception of Todoroki who just huffs in amusement and Bakugou who rolls his eyes, looking as if he wishes this visit would hurry up and end for the sake of his sanity.

As this is happening, Kouta, who reacts like Bakugou, finally decides to take action. While he was originally standing with Midoriya, the dark haired boy moves to approach your current location.

Just as you push yourself into a sitting position, a pair of hands abruptly grabs your cheeks and starts pulling on them, making you wince. When you turn to see who the cheek puller is, you’re surprised to see Kouta glaring at you.

Mandalay’s laughter abruptly cuts off as she gives her nephew a scandalized look. “Kouta! What are you doing?!”

Everyone else also stops laughing when they see what Kouta is doing. While the rest of the Pussycats appear amused by his actions, most of your students are staring at him with wide eyes. Midoriya appears panicked while Bakugou has his eyes narrowed.

At his aunt’s shout, Kouta finally releases your cheeks, releasing a huff as he does so. A pout forms on your lips as you move to rub your sore cheeks. “What was that for, Kouta-kun?”

He scowls, “That’s what you get for being a liar. You’re lucky I decided to go easy on you.”

Confusion dawns your features. A liar? What does he mean by that?

Eri frowns at the other child as she moves to clutch your shirt. “Y/N isn’t a liar.”

Iida starts aggressively chopping his hands this way and that. “Eri-kun is correct! Y/N-sensei is one of the most honest and trustworthy people I know! I ask that you cease this slander at once, Kouta-kun! I will not tolerate such words being spoken about our teacher! I-”

Before he can continue defending you, you raise a hand to silence him and the other students who looked like they wanted to add in their own two cents. After thanking the bespectacled boy for his kind words, you bring your gaze back to Kouta and raise an eyebrow. “So, why exactly am I a liar?”

Kouta crosses his arms. “You told me you weren’t a hero.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “But I’m not.”

His scowl deepens. “Don’t give me that crap. The reason you got kidnapped at the camp was because you saved your students, right? Last time I checked, heroes are people who save others when they’re in danger even at their own expense which is exactly what you did that night. You even came with Eraserhead to save me and Midoriya-nii-chan. Do you seriously expect me to believe you’re not a hero after you did all that?”

All you can do is stare. Of all the things he could say, you definitely weren’t expecting that.

As you try to think of a response, an unexpected voice breaks the silence that had enveloped the room after Kouta finished speaking.

“The brat’s right.”

Immediately, every set of eyes moves to focus on Bakugou who’s calmly approaching you. When he sees your wide eyed expression, the blond rolls his eyes. “Why do you look so surprised? I was one of the people you saved, remember?”

Looking surprisingly serious, Bakugou holds your gaze after he crouches before you. “You can say that you’re not a hero all you want, but I ain’t ever gonna buy that crap. And neither is anyone else who actually knows you. So, you’re better off just giving it a rest, Sensei.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at your student’s words. “Bakugou…”

At that moment, a familiar weight wraps around your shoulders, and you turn to see Dark Shadow grinning at you. “Me and Fumikage feel the same way, Y/N! It’s because of you that the villains couldn’t hurt us! You’re our number one hero!”

The urge to cry grows when Tokoyami nods his head after coming to a stop beside Bakugou. “It is true. I cannot think of anyone else more deserving of the title ‘hero’ than you, Sensei. I can only hope to one day become the kind of hero for others that you were for me.”

Iida vigorously nods his head as he chops one of his hands in your direction. “I am in full agreement! I’ve said it once and I will say it again. You will always be seen as a hero in my eyes and in the eyes of the Iida family for what you did to save my brother.”

A proud smile forms on his face. “Now, I have two heroes that I admire and aspire to become more like!”

Just when you think your heart can’t take anymore, Eri gently tugs on your shirt, gaining your attention. When your teary eyes fall on her, she sweetly smiles, “You’re my hero too, Y/N. You were the first person to show me kindness and give me hope. You saved me from the darkness.”

Having reached your limit, you pull the silver haired girl into a hug and start bawling, unable to contain the happiness you’re currently feeling thanks to everyone’s words. Even though it’s true you had heard Iida say similar words before, you never expected for anyone else to consider you a hero. To think, your students and Eri had been feeling that way about you all this time.

“Look what you bastards did! You made her cry!”

“Shut up, you fu-I mean-stupid brat! You’re the one who started this stupid conversation in the first place!”

“Bakugou-kun! Kouta-kun! Cease your fighting at once! We should focus on consoling, Y/N-sensei!”

“Fumi, come join me in hugging Y/N! That’ll cheer her up!”

“I...I think someone else would be better suited for that role, Dark Shadow.”

While Eri returns your hug in hopes of offering comfort, Ragdoll gently pats your head as she smiles, “You’re really loved, huh, Kitten?”

A wobbly smile forms on your lips as you sniffle, “Yeah, I’m really lucky.”

Not wanting to worry everyone further, you quickly start scrubbing your eyes and attempt to rein in your tears. Yaoyorozu kindly offers you a handkerchief to help you with this endeavor.

Once you’ve finally calmed down, you release your hold on Eri after giving her a smile to show you’re alright. You then direct your gaze to Kouta and focus that smile on him. “While it was unintentional, it looks like I did lie to you after all. Sorry, Kouta-kun. I hope we can still be friends.”

Kouta averts his gaze. “Whatever. I’ll let it slide this time. Just don’t do it again.”

That’s when Mandalay approaches your group, wearing a mischievous smile. “Hey, Y/N, check out what Kouta has attached to the belt loop above his left pocket.”

Her nephew gives her an annoyed look as his expression turns embarrassed. “K-Knock it off, Mandalay!”

Curious, you turn to look at where the older woman is pointing. That’s when you notice the cute calico cat keychain hanging from one of the belt loops on the dark haired boy’s shorts.

The corners of your lips curve upwards to form a large grin. “Awww, it’s so cute! I didn’t realize you liked cats as much as the Pussycats, Kouta-kun!”

Mandalay’s smile grows. “He’s not wearing it because he likes cats, Y/N. Kouta saw it in a store and immediately wanted it because it reminded him of a certain someone. Check out the color of the cat’s eyes. Looks familiar, doesn’t it?”

When you look to examine the keychain again, your eyes widen once you realize the cat’s eyes are the same color as yours. Kouta scowls when you lift your surprised gaze to meet his. “Like I keep telling her, it’s not like that. Don’t start getting any weird ideas.”

Considering how flustered he is, it’s obvious the child is lying. He just doesn’t want to admit it.

Warmth bubbles in your chest. To think, you had such an impact on Kouta. You had no idea he felt that way about you.

Grinning, you pull the startled boy into a hug. “You’re so cute, Kouta-kun! Thank you! I’m so happy!”

He immediately starts squirming in an attempt to break free from your hold while several people laugh at his expense. “L-Let me go, dammit!”

While you could mess with him some more, you decide to have mercy on Kouta since you just remembered something important you need to tell him. As you release him, you say, “I should’ve said this sooner, but no swearing around Eri, alright? I know she’s technically older than you, but I’d prefer that those kinds of words don’t get added to her vocabulary just yet.”

Once he’s sure he’s out of hugging distance, Kouta gives you an incredulous look before directing his gaze to Eri, who’s watching him curiously, after you gesture toward her. For some reason, his brows furrow shortly after he does this.

His gaze then starts moving between you, her, and the Pussycats, who all stare at him with amusement when they see his puzzled expression. Before anyone can ask him what’s wrong, Kouta finally asks, “I thought you were younger than Mandalay and the others. How do you have a kid that’s older than me?”

Several students snort at his question while others immediately try to shush them. Meanwhile, all the Pussycats have hands over their mouths like they’re trying to fight the urge to break into another fit of laughter.

An amused huff passes your lips. “She’s not my kid, Kouta-kun. Eri is under UA’s protection, and I was asked to look after her since she’s the closest to me.”

Eri nods her head. “Y/N is my hero and my best friend, not my mom.”

All the ladies coo at her response while Kirishima starts sniffling. A warm smile forms on your lips as you gently ruffle the silver haired girl’s hair. “That’s right! We’re besties!”

After saying that, you return your gaze to Kouta, smiling all the while. “I hope you can become friends with Eri like how you did with me, Kouta-kun. It’d be nice if she could have someone around her age to talk to every now and then.”

Kouta gives the other child a scrutinizing look. After several seconds pass, he asks her, “Who’s your favorite hero?”

Her expression brightens as she beams, “Y/N, Deku-san, and Lemillion-san!”

You clutch your chest at her cute response while a flustered Midoriya happily smiles as several of his classmates either smile at him or give him encouraging nudges and pats. Meanwhile, Kouta dons a small grin. “You got good taste. Guess being friends with you wouldn’t be so bad.”

He then asks her who Lemillion is, so Eri excitedly starts telling him all about the blond. You and Mandalay share a grin at the sight of the children getting along.

Unfortunately, the two can’t chat for long since the Pussycats and Kouta still need to pay Class 1-B a visit. Remembering the presents you prepared, you quickly head for the kitchen, asking for the guests to wait for a few more minutes.

Thankfully, you put all the cookies in some tupperware before you and Eri cleaned up, so they’re all ready to go. After grabbing the tupperware, you rush over to where the Pussycats and Kouta are waiting for you.

Smiling, you hold out the tupperware for them. “After finding out that you guys were coming to visit, I thought I should prepare something special, so with the help of Eri and Satou, I made something you can take along with you since you can’t stay long.”

Mandalay accepts the tupperware and opens it after Ragdoll and Pixie Bob keep pestering her to do so. When she finally relents, the pro heroes’ eyes widen at the sight of all the cat-themed cookies inside.

Rather than just bake regular shaped cookies, you brought out some cookie cutters and made cookies in the shapes of cat faces and paws. You found those cookie cutters a few weeks ago and just couldn’t resist buying them since they were so cute.

For several seconds, the Pussycats just stare, and then, it happens. In a blink, you’re pulled into Ragdoll’s arms and start getting twirled at a rapid pace. “They’re so cute, Kitten! What a paw-some present! You really are the cat’s meow!”

When the twirling eventually comes to a stop, a laughing Tiger strongly pats your back. “Nicely done! That’s the Plus Ultra spirit!”

Meanwhile, Pixie Bob has already started eating a cookie. After taking a bite, her eyes grow large.

She quickly turns to face Mandalay and asks, with complete seriousness, “How mad would Eraser be if we took his TA home with us?”

Mandalay, who’s also happily eating a cookie, appears to be deeply considering her teammate’s question. Meanwhile, Kouta just rolls his eyes as he swipes a cookie for himself.

Immediately, all the students start protesting, declaring that they won’t hand you over so easily, with Eri vigorously nodding in agreement. You can’t help but laugh at everyone’s antics.

Looks like your surprise for the Pussycats was a complete success. Hopefully, this means they and Kouta will be making more visits in the future.

After all, who wouldn’t be happy to have such purr-fect company?

#TABF #TABF post scene #this ended up becoming longer than expected #oops lol #my writing #in kouta's letter it said mr. midoriya #so I figure that means midoriya-san #but that just sounded weird coming from kouta #so I decided that he'd say deku-san like eri #since I figure he found out midoriya's hero name from the pussycats #I like the idea of kouta and eri becoming friends #they can bond over their mutual appreciation of midoriya and fortune haha #in case y'all were wondering #ragdoll was told that fortune had been rescued and that she was alright #this is just her first time seeing fortune since the kidnapping #since she and the pussycats had been taking that break #I enjoyed writing the part #with the kids who had been saved by fortune #or in iida's case #who had someone saved by fortune #of course the other students see her as a hero too #those three just have a more obvious reason for believing that #if fortune hadn't started crying #todoroki and midoriya would've chimed in too #which would've just made her cry more haha

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bxcksdoll · 5 years

Text

Teasing

Pairings: Thor x reader

Summary: Y/N and Thor are best friends. They get teased that they should be a couple but Y/N doesn’t think Thor feels the same. One day, on a mission, Thor saved Y/N and confesses his feelings to her.

Request: reader is part of the avengers, and is closest to Thor. Everyone else notices he has a crush on reader but he denies it every time he is asked about it. When they’re on a mission, reader is in danger and Thor finally realizes he does really like the reader and confesses to her. :)

Warnings: violence/blood

A/N: so i usually write in second person but I guess I changed it up a bit to first person oof

Y/N/N - your nick name

Y/N’s POV

Thor is my best friend. My person. The one I’d go to when I needed help. Currently, I’m in desperate need of his help. I have inexplainable feelings. Needs. I have feelings for him.

Of course, I know I can’t tell him and I can’t tell any of the other Avengers. So, instead, I sit in the same overwhelming, heart-clenching silence every night. Alone with my thoughts - thoughts of him.

I know that Thor doesn’t feel the same - he’s been asked many times by the others but always denies it. Tony is convinced he has a crush on me and won’t let it lie; he constantly teases us about our chemistry. But I guess we’re just meant to be friends.

“Good morning, Stark,” I greet, wandering into the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N. You seen your boyfriend this morning? Fury’s looking for him,” Tony asks, sipping his morning coffee.

I roll my eyes, scoffing a little. “Very funny, Tony, but you know he’s not my boyfriend. And no I haven’t - why’s Fury after him?”

“Ah, it’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Fury’s not taking lover boy away or anything; in fact, he’s gonna ask him to accompany you, Sam, Nat and Clint on your mission tomorrow,” Tony smirks.

Rolling my eyes again, I ask, “Why does Thor need to come too? And what do you mean me, Nat and Clint - I thought you were coming too?”

“Not anymore kiddo,” he laughs, “I told Nick I couldn’t and may have requested a certain God of Thunder to go instead.”

“Wow, you really don’t give up, do you, Stark?” I shake my head.

“Nope. I’ll never rest until-oh look! The God himself. Mornin’, pointbreak, it’s good to see ya,” Tony nods.

Turning around, I’m faced with a tired-looking Thor. His hair is loosely tied back in a bun, strands of golden locks grazing his sharp features. It appears he’s shaved recently and looks damn good.

Glancing down, I can see he’s wearing a black vest top - tightly fitting to his muscles just right - and loose grey sweatpants. This man really knows how to get me hot and bothered.

“Morning, Stark,” the God replies. “Hey, Y/N/N,” he ruffles my hair with his hand as he slumped past, sleepily.

“You talked to Fury, Thor?” Tony asks.

“Um, no why?”

“He wants to ask you to go on a mission tomorrow. Which Y/N happens to be going on too,” Tony smirks while I send a glare his way.

“Oh, yes. Y/N was telling me about it yesterday - are you not going on it, Stark?” Thor questions, opening the fridge.

“Tony, here, was too lazy to go and so he recommended you for the job,” I interjected, crossing my arms.

“Hey, you should be thanking me. Because of me, you have more time to spend with your girlfriend,” Tony laughs.

Thor slammed the fridge harder than he meant to, in surprise. “Uhhh, my what?!” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“You’ll spend more time with Y/N,” Tony pats him on the back. Thor’s cheeks begin to to turn a shade of red.

“Stark you know that Y/N and I are only-”

“Stop! Let me have my fun,” Tony wines and - for about the 100th time this morning - I roll my eyes again. “Just make sure you talk to Fury, okay?”

“Okay,” Thor replies, quickly glancing at me to give a small smile. My heart flutters at the minor gesture and my belly aches with butterflies, longing for him in ways that I shouldn’t.

For now, I’m going to train for the mission. I need to get Thor off my mind and to focus on more important issues.

——————————————————————————

Thor POV

I accepted the mission given to me yesterday; partly because it’s the right thing to do...but mostly because - Stark was right - it meant I could spend more time with Y/N.

I’m sick of everyone telling me I should ask her out but, if I’m honest, I do have feelings for her. However, we’re best friends and I can’t jeopardise our friendship. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if she didn’t feel the same way and even if she did it could be strange.

Anyway, I accepted the mission and we took off in the quinjet some few minutes ago. Fury told me S.H.I.E.L.D had been tracking down a group of Hydra agents for a couple of months and had finally discovered a potential hide out. So, we went on our way to check out this place.

Fury made us all dress in normal clothes to blend in; it’s rather strange going on a mission without wearing my usual battle gear but I do understand why there’s a change.

The quinjet landed not too far from the base - but further enough away so that the jet wouldn’t be heard or seen. Getting out of the jet, Natasha turns to us all.

“Okay, you guys here’s the plan. Clint you go up top on he southwest building - use that tech Bruce gave you and keep us updated on all the activity that goes on in the base. Y/N and Thor, you’ll go round the back - search around and break in without drawing any attention to yourselves.”

My heart beats faster at her last words. I didn’t feel nervous before now but how things have changed; being positioned with Y/N may shift my focus slightly.

“Sam,” Natasha continues, “you’re coming with me; we’ll walk in from the front - we’ve got some fake IDs so that people don’t get suspicious of who we are.”

She pauses for a second, handing him the card.

“Sweet,” Sam chuckles, attaching it to his jacket.

“Now,” Natasha states, “once we’re inside, make sure you gather all the information you can on those flash drives I gave you, understood?”

I nod in agreement with everyone else. We all go our seperate ways, my heart pounding loud in my chest at the realisation that Y/N is following behind me.

“Do you even know how to use a flash drive?” she laughs. “Or even a computer?”

She’s smirking and raising her eyebrows in that cute flirtatious way she does. I adore that look on her - I adore every look on her, but especially this one.

“Yes, of course I do!” I argue, shaking my head.

“Hmm, are you sure about that? You’re 1500 years old and technology doesn’t usually mix well with old people,” she jokes, hitting my arm lightly.

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Y/N...”

We’ve reached the suspected base. Before going in I decide to be safe and check with Clint what’s going on inside.

“It seems...empty,” he replies. “Really, really empty. Are you sure this gadget works, Nat?”

“Yeah, Bruce thoroughly checked it,” Nat’s voice says in my ear piece.

“How strange...perhaps only Y/N and I should go in first. We’ll look around and tell you what we see,” I suggest.

“Alright, Thor, but be careful. Both of you.”

“We’ll be fine, Nat,” Y/N replies and gives me a comforting smile. Then, she breaks the lock off the backalley door, slipping inside before me.

The building is pitch black - I can hardly see anything, even Y/N. I describe the scene to the others; there seems to be a few tall white pillars in the distance. As my eyes adjust, I take in the whole floor before me. Notes are plastered on the walls all around; the floor stretches beyond a curving staircase.

“Thor,” Y/N whispers into the ear piece. I turn to my left and can finally see her. She’s a fair distance away, next to one of the pillars. “I think I found-AH!”

A gunshot fires through the building, flashes of red light go off as a machine gun is fired repeatedly in the direction of where Y/N is. One must have pierced through her leg, as she’s down on the ground and clutching it while protecting herself behind a pillar.

“Thor! Y/N! What’s going on?” Sam yells in the ear piece.

“We need backup immediately!” I shout, electricity corsing through my veins as I send random bursts of lightning around the room. I wasn’t able to see when the gunshot came from so I strike anywhere and everywhere.

It appears I’ve hit someone as a shiek is hear from one corner of the room. Y/N is still down on the ground, I run over to her and put pressure on her leg.

“Ow, T-thor...” she whimpers, wincing from the pain.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Just breath, alright?” I reassure her as he thick, warm blood pours over my hands.

Seconds later, the front door swings open to reveal Sam, Natasha and Clint. They immedialey spot s couple of agents hidden in the corner of the room and begin fighting them. This was the perfect opportunity to sneak Y/N out.

“Y/N, I’m going to carry you back to the jet now, alright, love?”

I doubt she’s processing anything I say due to her painful expression and breathing so I pick her up without warning. She weighs nothing but makes it harder for me to carry her by clutching to my upper arms and digging her fingernails in - through pain.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” I murmur as I’m running with her back to the jet. Her life depending on my actions.

——————————————————————————

Your POV

I open my eyes only to be blinded by a shining white colour. Oh no. I must be in the hospital. A throbbing feeling is in my leg as I remember I got shot. Glancing beside me, I notice Thor is sat crouched over the edge of my bed with his head in his hands.

I reach over and touch his shoulder. He jumps back in surprise and then smiles, gleamingly. He lurches forward, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace.

��Thank the gods you’re alright, Y/N,” he murmurs in my ear. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, Thor, it’s just that my leg is aching a bit,” I reply. Thor lets go of me and returns to his earlier seat, this time gripping my hand tight in his.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I-I shouldn’t have let you go ahead. I should have been more careful...”

“No, Thor! Don’t blame yourself. This wasn’t your fault - it was mine for not keeping my voice down,” I chuckle. Thor squeezes my hand again and smiles.

“...Y/N?” he asks and I nod my head. “After what’s just happened to you,” he goes on, “I’ve realised that I need to tell you something.” My heart beats faster in my chest, eager to know what. “I have feelings for you. Strong ones. I didn’t want to tell you before now because I was scared that our friendship would be ruined but now I know that I must tell you. I want to be with you, Y/N.”

I gasp and sit up as much as I can. “Oh, Thor, I feel the same way!”

Thor’s eyes light up in surprise. “R-really?” he laughs. I nod my head, my heart warming.

Thor grins wided, leaning close and capturing his lips with mine; we move in sync, desperately claiming one another in a kiss we had both longed for for so long. Thor would never let you get hurt again. He would protect you from now on and keep you safe from any harm.

Tag list: @xmarveled

#thor x reader #thor imagine #thor one shot #thor imagines #thorxreader #marvel #avengers x reader #marvel imagine

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blooblooded · 3 years

Text

Tony and the Thing from the Void

Tony

Tony regained consciousness and immediately understood how dire the situation was.

He was sitting in a chair, his arms tied behind his back and his ankles tied to the legs with what felt like phone charger cords. His head throbbed and he was aware that a smear of blood had dribbled from his temple, where Kassidy Nguyen had struck him with a lamp. The blood was still wet, so he knew that he had not been unconscious for long. He saw that the door was now closed.

He did not yet understand what was happening, but knew that he was double fucked. Tony turned in the chair and began to move his wrists back and forth to try and loosen the cord they were tied with. “Oh god,” he said to himself. “Oh fuck.”

Tabby and the rest of the girls had gone with the awkward Northern boy Marty to talk to someone called the Prime Minister. Tony had stayed behind to take care of Kassidy because she had been too sick to leave. In pain. Shivering. Spitting up blood. She had been in bad shape since they had left Eden. He was the only one that knew that she was not entirely herself and had stuck around to make sure…make sure of something. Make sure she was OK.

Up until now, he had not fully realized how Not Herself Kassidy really was. Or what that meant. He had not wanted to See.

“Anthony,” said Kassidy. No. Not Kassidy. Kassidy had never called him that. Kassidy had never tried to hurt him. Kassidy had never looked at him in the way she was looking at him now. It was the….thing inside of Kassidy that now spoke. It was the Book, the entity from the Void. “You’re awake. I was worried I hit you too hard.”

There it was. The thing in Kassidy’s body. He saw how it had destroyed her. Her arms and face had grown too thin but her belly was swollen grotesquely, the way that bodies become during malnutrition. Her skin had a grey cast to it and the acne on her cheeks had turned into bloody, crusted scabs. Black veins were visible at her temples, running up her arms. Dying. Kassidy was dying. And this thing had taken complete control.

A part of him hated her for letting it inside of her. Stupid little girl. Just a stupid little girl, full of grief and rage. But how was she supposed to know what was going to happen to her? The moment that she touched Cihad’s Book, it was all over. He knew what it was like, what it was like to willingly choose something destructive only for it to take complete control.

It had been sitting on another one of the chairs in the room but now it got up to approach him. It wobbled a little, like it was about to fall over. Too weak.

Tony struggled harder against the cords that bound his hands.

“It’s good to be able to talk to you,” said the thing. It stood before him. An unthinkable monster, curling itself inside of a sick young woman. “I never thought I’d be able to actually talk to you.”

“Oh god.” His heart pounded in his chest and he tried not to look at it. He didn’t want to see it. “Oh fuck. Tabitha! Goddamn it, Casey!”

“They aren’t here,” said the thing. It chewed absently on one of its fingernails. “You don’t need to scream. You’re not in any danger.”

It couldn’t know that. Tony gritted his teeth, worked harder against the cords. Sweat poured down his forehead and soaked his shirt at the chest and armpits. The smell of fear radiated from his pores. No. He would not die like this. This wasn’t supposed to be the way he died, so far away from home. There were people he needed to get back to. Cynthia, she was only 12 years old and did not even know he was still alive. He couldn’t die here, this thing couldn’t kill him here. Not until he got back to his daughter and made up for how he had failed her.

“Can you stop?” asked the thing in Kassidy’s body. In front of him now and crouched down, resting it’s arms on its knees. Still wearing Kassidy’s clothes, the torn jeans, the loose long sleeved shirt. But not Christopher Nguyen’s jacket. When the jacket went out of the picture, Tony had known something was wrong without even needing to See. “I can’t talk to you when you’re jerking around like a rat in a trap. I want to talk. I’ve been so alone.”

“Nope,” said Tony, panting. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Aw.” It put its hand on his knee. A chill shivered up Tony’s spine and he did what he could to jerk away from it, but could not move much. The chair was carved from wood, ornamental, heavy. “I don’t know why you’re so scared. You don’t need to be scared. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to kill you. I care about you, I’ve cared about you for 3 years. Even when I was trapped, formless inside of that Book, I was hoping you were OK.”

“You killed my wife,” said Tony. It was useless to struggle so he stopped. His mind rolled back and forth between his options. Talk to it. Waste its time. Maybe Tabby would come back. Maybe someone would save him. He could not save himself. Even as a young man, it had not been something he was capable of. “You— you’re killing my friend.”

It smiled in the unsure way that something that does not know how to smile does. Kassidy’s lips were chapped and peeling. Her teeth had turned brittle, the gums receding. “Kassidy? She wanted this.”

“No.” Tony turned his mind to Tabby, reaching out for her. He was not a psychic, not really. He had no telepathy, only the cursed, useless Sight. “No.”

“Yeah.” It squeezed his knee. “She was nothing. So stupid and weak and sad. She wanted to be something. She let me inside, it was her choice. And now she’s gone. It’s peaceful. No more pain or fear, only me. I take care of her.”

He was not a violent man but Tony wanted to lash out at this thing, smash it to jelly. Kill it. Kill it for what it was doing, for what it had done. He remembered the way that Cathy had looked at him before she had plunged the knife into her own chest, he remembered the way she had screamed. Back then he had not been able to understand it, he had not understood the totality of how this parasite obliterated every part of the self. But Cathy had known. She had felt herself slipping away and made the choice to take control one last time.

It was a choice that Kassidy had been unwilling or unable to make.

“Go away,” he said. “Please. Just go away. Why are you doing this? Go back, just go back to the Book. I don’t know why you’re doing this?”

“Why does anything do anything?” It asked. It leaned over his lap, still crouching, and untied the knotted cord that was binding his wrists. Even though his hands were free, Tony found himself unable to strike out, unable to even move. It was an unfortunate leftover of his childhood: when faced with danger, his first instinct was to flee, and when he was unable to do that, he froze. Why hadn’t he just run away from home when he was a kid, why had he just taken everything? Easier to freeze. People were less likely to hurt you when you were limp and quiet. But this wasn’t a person. “I just want to live. You know, I just want to live. I deserve to live just like anything else.”

“Please,” said Tony, ice water running through his veins.

It took his hands in its own. Kassidy’s hands were very small and several of her fingernails had fallen off to reveal crusting infected nail beds. It turned Tony’s hands over gently so that it could look at the raised white scar running thickly up his left forearm.

That had been from when he was 17, stupid and cowardly, trapped in foster care. It had been bad enough for stitches, but not bad enough to be taken seriously. When his foster parents had found him passed out in a bathtub and covered in blood, they had just yelled at him for being stupid. Tony had never regretted doing it. Sometimes he regretted not trying harder, regretted that he had been a scared child unable to bring the blade down on himself again.

“You don’t even want to live,” said the thing living in Kassidy’s body, with a contemplative tone like it was unable to understand. “Did you know that humans are the only creatures I’ve seen that do that? I’ve lived for thousands of years, I’ve lived in countless worlds. Every other living being fights to survive. Not you things. You put yourselves in danger, you consume things that aren’t good for you, you even actively try to die. Why is that? What were you thinking about when you did this to yourself?” It lightly touched the scar on Tony’s arm and he drew back with force like he had been burned.

He had not even talked to Cihad about this, there was no way he was about to explain 41 years of suicidality to something that was not human.

It was all too much. Tony willed himself to move, to react, but could not. What good would it do? He had seen Kassidy use blood magic, he had seen the way that she had made the pyrokinetic secret police agent writhe and squirm on the ground when they were fleeing Eden. If he hit this thing or tried to get up, what if it did something even worse to him? It could pull his intestines out of his asshole or make his one good eye burst like a grape. It seemed to…like him, but for how long?

Tabby. Tabby needed to come back. Tabby and her gun. Or the witch, Jules, with her white magic. Or Anatole Surkhov with his magic starmetal sword. Or Esther, Rosaline, Casey, anyone! Anyone.

And then—

A WATER PLANET WITH FOUR MOONS. THE SEAS ARE GREEN AND WARM, POPULATED BY THE RACE OF SHAPESHIFTING SLIME CREATURES THAT NOW LIVE ON EARTH. THEY ARE BEING HUNTED INTO EXTINCTION BY THE ENTITY. THE WATER IS TURNING BLACK WITH THEIR ICHOR. IT IS HUNGRY, IT IS SO HUNGRY, AND IT WILL NEVER STOP. THE CREATURES FROM THAT PLANET HAVE THEIR OWN MAGIC, THEIR OWN PRIESTS, AND THEY RIP A HOLE THROUGH DIMENSIONS TO SEND THEIR OFFSPRING TO EARTH, TO SOMEWHERE THEY CAN BE SAFE. THE ENTITY FOLLOWS THEM THROUGH THE RIFT BUT ITS BODY IS TORN FROM IT BY THE VIBRATION OF EARTH’S MAGNETIC FIELD. IT IS SCREAMING AND SCREAMING AND FEELS FEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME AND—

Tony squeezed his eye shut to block out the Sight. No, no, he did not want to know. He did not want to know about this thing, did not want to know where it came from, did not want to know what it wanted. His head pounded.

“What’s wrong?” it asked. Tony could still feel one of its hands on his knee.

“Go away,” he said. The air was cold, even inside of Florence Gauthier’s estate, and his sweat was lowering his body temperature. “Please go away.”

“You don’t like me? I gave you your Sight.” It rose up. Tony clutched his hands to his face. “You need to get used to me. We’re going to be very close for a while.”

Tony’s eye shot open. Did it mean to leave Kassidy’s body and enter his? No, it would have already done that. Would it? Did it need…did it need permission? He would never accept that. He could accept a lot of things, but never that. It was not the slow death and rot that scared him, it was the violation. He felt his legs start to tremble.

If it left Kassidy’s body, she would die. He understood that much. He understood that it was keeping her alive, making her watch as it sucked everything from her body and made her decay. Even if it left her and allowed her to survive, how would she ever come back from something like that? Cathy had chosen death instead, Cathy had…Cathy…

“What does that mean?” He asked. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper and his own voice sounded raspy. “What does that mean?”

It stood before him and pushed its hair out of its face. It looked down at itself, pulled at its shirt. “I like this world,” it said. It ran its hands down Kassidy’s body. “I like humans. You feel so much. I like the way you eat and drink so that you feel good. No other creature does that either. You just do things for pleasure.” It lifted up the edge of its shirt a little to show its swollen abdomen in an awkward parody of sensuality. “Do you want to have sex? I want to know what that’s like.”

Tony’s breath hitched in his throat. He could not speak.

Wherever Kassidy’s consciousness was, he could only hope that she was not aware of what was being propositioned. But Tony could not spare much thought for her when he was much more worried about himself.

The thing laughed, horribly, it was something that did not know how to laugh. It was more of a wheeze. “Relax” it said. “I wouldn’t make you. What, you don’t like her? You only like Cihad Tariq, don’t you? The two of you always used to go at it like rabbits. You used to make him hurt you. You’d ask him to put his hands around your throat so you couldn’t breathe. Did you really like that or did it just excite you to be so close to dying? I was always there, you know, watching you. You were funny.”

“Stop,” said Tony, stupid and frozen and very afraid. The knowledge that this thing had about his sex life with Cihad was obscene.

“Are you excited now?” It asked, then leaned over him, put both of its hands on his shoulders. Kassidy smelled like rotten meat and her eyes had filmed over. “Are you aroused to be so close to dying?”

For the first time in his life, Tony Delmont was positive that he did not want to die.

What he wanted did not matter. The thing inside of Kassidy’s body leaned forward and pressed its open mouth against his. This was something that did not understand what kissing was and it did so sloppily, with teeth. Panic finally burst through Tony and he tried to shove it away from him or pull his head back, but the creature had monstrous strength despite its 90 pound frame. At first he thought that it was only kissing him, acting on some sick impulse of wanting to experience human desire. It was not.

Hot, slimy fluid gushed from its mouth and into Tony’s. He began to choke and gag, his throat closed up against it, but there was too much of it and he found himself being forced to swallow. The liquid was thick, the consistency of pudding, and had a metallic, organy taste. When he tried harder to pull himself away, the creature just pushed itself against his face with greater force and their teeth clicked together. He could hear its stomach constricting and pumping as it regurgitated.

There had never been an experience in his life so abject and humiliating, forced to kiss something that was vomiting into his mouth. He had seen documentaries where mother birds regurgitated food to feed their young and this seemed to be a repulsive twisting of that act. He could only think of his need to get away, to try and get whatever was inside of him out.

The demon pulled its face away from him. Its mouth hung open, dripping black slime down its chin and shirt. It dragged the back of one hand across its mouth, then spat on him, and more of the black slime hit him directly in his good eye.

“Was that good for you?” it asked in Kassidy’s voice.

Tony’s mind had just about decided that this was all a fucked up nightmare, that this wasn’t really happening to him when--

IT NEEDED TO GET ITS GENETIC MATERIAL INTO HIS BODY TO CHANGE IT, IN THE SAME WAY THAT ROSIE’S BODY HAD BEEN CHANGED. IT NEEDED HIM TO CHANGE BEFORE IT TOOK HIM TO THE LOST COLONY BECAUSE IT WAS GOING TO STRAP HIM INTO A DEVICE THAT WOULD ALLOW A NEW CREATURE TO BURST FROM HIS BODY. A REAL BODY, A SUSTAINABLE BODY THAT WOULD NOT DIE. AND WHEN IT OCCUPIED THAT NEW FORM, IT WOULD BE FREE TO ROAM THE EARTH, CONSUMING EVERYTHING THAT MOVED.

Tony sucked in lungfuls of air so that he could scream.

The door to the room opened and in walked Casey Agapama, holding two mugs of tea. She looked at Tony, tied to a chair, panting and shivering. She looked at the thing that had once been Kassidy, leaning over him with its black mouth. For a fraction of a second, she was perfectly still, but that was only as long as she needed. The polar opposite of Tony, she instantly took action. She dropped the mugs, bounded across the room with four long strides, and seized the creature with both arms to wrench it away from him.

Immediately, Tony bent to untie the cords binding his ankles, then collapsed to his hands and knees. He jammed two fingers down the back of his throat as hard as he could to trigger his gag reflex. A little trick from his years of drinking. It took a few tries, then Tony heaved and vomited at least a cup of black slime onto the wooden floor. The smell was unbelievable. He repeated this process until he saw only bile and the remnants of his lunch. His stomach lurched, he dry heaved. Was it enough? It had to be enough.

“What the fuck?” Casey yelled, struggling with the creature. She had pinned its arms to its side in a bear hug but it was fighting hard to get away from her. “Kassidy! Calm down, what the hell is going on?!”

“Anthony, you stupid insect!” It kicked its legs, no match for Casey’s strength. Despite everything, it was still inside of a dying body. “I’ll just do it again!”

PRODUCING THE FLUID TOOK A LOT OUT OF IT.

Tony scrabbled up, dizzy and his head spinning from vomiting, terrified and half insane. The instinct to freeze was over, replaced by the older instinct to drop everything and run. He could just go, just go far away. The woods, the wilderness, anything was preferable to being stuck here in the same place as the demon of the Void. He would die in the woods, yes, he would starve and freeze, but that was better, that was so much better. Killing himself would be so much better.

But no. He had to go home somehow. He couldn’t die. Cynthia was still out there.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Casey gave the demon a little shake, as if that would bring Kassidy back. Of course she thought that. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that Kassidy was gone and that this was just a hollowed out shell, a body for a parasite. “Calm down, OK, just calm down!”

Tony scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. The black slime that had been spat on him felt tacky on his skin, it gummed up the fabric of his shirt. He tried to calm his breathing as he drummed up the courage to look at the thing again.

“You would have liked it better if I had choked you,” said the creature from the Void. It stopped fighting against Casey now, realizing the futility. Much easier, much better to try to use its words to try to hurt him. It blinked rapidly, its eyes rolling back under its eyelids, smiled so that it showed Kassidy’s decaying teeth. “I’ll remember that. I’ll remember that next time. You don’t want to die anymore, Anthony? I’ll remember. Someday you’ll beg me to let you die but I’m not going to let you.”

He did not want to die. Not really. Not anymore.

“There’s not going to be a next time,” said Tony. He pressed himself back, further away from it, pressed against the wall. His stomach spasmed and churned and he knew that it didn’t matter that he had thrown up. Somehow it had infected him. Something really bad was about to happen to him, something that he did not understand. He knew that, but he also knew that he would not allow this creature to have a second chance. “You-- you’re gonna go back to the Void.”

And it just laughed at him. Laughed and laughed.

There was no getting away from it and Tony knew it. All he could do was again, wipe his hand across his mouth.

CYNTHIA

Cynthia Tariq-Delmont found herself in a dream that was not her own.

She saw a planet covered in a warm green ocean, lit by the gentle shine of four moons. Beneath the water lived a species of shapeshifting chitinous invertebrates. Somehow she knew about them, she knew that they had lived on this world for millions of years, that their civilization was unlike her own, but was a civilization nonetheless. The shapeshifting creatures swam through their oceans, communicated with one another as a psychic hivemind, and raised their gelatinous larvae until they grew exoskeletons and could protect themselves from predators.

And she knew that they were scared. She could feel the chittering fear of the hive. Because something, some predator, had ripped a hole into their world to devour them. The warm green ocean was turning black with the slime that made up their bodies, the water boiling with ammonia.

Cynthia blinked and found that she was under the water, inside a cave-like structure built from porous pink rock with holes in the roof that let light from the four moons inside. But the light was darkening now, going out, because the moons were being eaten up. Everything was being eaten up. The water, the invertebrate creatures, even the light itself. Inside of the cave were a pair of mate-bonded creatures, along with a translucent egg sac containing a couple hundred of their larval offspring. She looked at them and sensed their desperation, a desperation that was shared across thousands of others belonging to the hive-mind.

The mate-bonded pair of creatures were the same size as she was, with segmented black carapaces and fan shaped tails. The heads were unusual; five eyes and a clawed proboscis extending over toothy mouths. Somehow she knew that this was the usual adult form of these creatures, but that they could shapeshift into any form they wished. The larvae in the jelly-like egg sac were only tiny black balls of slime, each no bigger than her thumbnail. Over the next several hundred years the larvae would grow larger and larger until they reached maturity.

Cynthia looked at the egg sac and felt a pang. She knew that her sibling was in there.

These creatures did not have a spoken language. They did not need one, they communicated through the psychic hive. Individuals could communicate their personal thoughts and feelings by changing their color like a squid does. She watched the mate-bonded pair dapple their carapaces red, she watched them nuzzle each other with their proboscises, then touch their egg sac.

A plan. The invertebrate species had their own magic, their own priests. If the predator destroying their planet could rip a hole between worlds, so could they.

They wanted to protect their offspring.

Inside the egg-sac, the little black larvae squirmed and looked up at their parents. They were too small to be a part of the hive-mind, too small to understand what was going on.

The water around Cynthia turned black and she could sense the presence of something huge, something with only one purpose: to consume. A high pitched buzz filled her head and she watched the carapace of the mate-bonded pair of invertebrates dapple a terrified yellow.

And she woke up in her own bed.

The dream had been so nonsensical and surreal that for a moment she considered disregarding it as the result of eating pizza a little too close to sleep. But those thoughts, those images, could not have possibly come from her mind, they had to be from someone else. She looked at the digital clock on her bedside table. 5:00am. Cynthia rubbed her face and got out of bed, stumbled around in the dark.

Careful to be quiet so that she did not wake up her Dad or Tony, she walked out of her room, into the hall, and into her sibling’s room. Until she was 9, Billy had always slept with her. They had liked to curl up inside the top drawer of her dresser. But then her Mom had died and they all had to move; the new house had three bedrooms. Dad had said that it was OK for Billy to have their own. Good thing too, since now Billy had grown larger and more...solid, less apt to spend long periods of time in a form that resembled a blob of pudding.

Billy’s room was cleaner than hers was. They liked the blue walls. They had a dresser full of clothes for when they wanted to go out in public on days that their body was solid, visible to people who didn’t have Abilities. Pictures of the family on the dresser. A picture of Mom too, even though she had never actually been able to see Billy. It was the kind of room that a normal 14 year old kid would have. Their bed was underneath their window and it had blue blankets.

Her sibling was tangled face-up in their sheets. Their body was mostly humanoid, but could only manage monochromatic colors. When they slept, they liked to wear pajamas, and had a loose tank top and shorts on. Billy’s face was screwed up, 4 eyes closed tight. They made squeaky, whimpering sounds.

“Hey.” Cynthia put her hand on her sibling’s arm. Their skin-- if it could be called skin-- was always clammy and had the texture of soft silly putty when they were in this form. “Hey.”

Billy opened all of their eyes. Two eyes were where they were supposed to be on a normal human face and two smaller eyes were higher up on their forehead. “Huh?” they said. Billy’s voice sounded almost exactly like her’s did, since they had learned to speak from mimicry. “Are we late for school?”

“No. You were dreaming.”

“Oh.” Billy sat up and untangled themselves from their sheets. “Weird. I think I dreamed that I was drowning, but I don’t need to breathe.”

Cynthia thought about the planet covered in a warm green ocean and its four moons. Maybe they didn’t need to know about that. Maybe knowing about that would make them upset. It was hard enough for them here, trying to be a normal kid when they weren’t one. She reached up to take off the silk scarf she used to keep her braids neat.

School didn’t start for another 3 hours so it was useless to try and get back to sleep. “Sorry. I thought you were having a nightmare, it woke me up.”

They shrugged. Billy’s face rippled and changed, rearranging and sucking the two extraneous eyes back inside their head. It was getting easier and easier for them to appear like a highschool aged kid. They had more control over their body, no longer worrying that they might grow an extra pair of arms or split in two when they got upset. While their true form-- their larval form, Cynthia thought-- was still a 35 pound mass of black slime, they preferred to look human. Now that others could see them in certain forms, they wanted to make friends and experience life.

Billy rolled out of bed. They were taller and thinner than she was, and in this form their skin was stark white and their hair and the inside of their mouth was black. “What time is it?”

“It’s five.”

“D’you think Dad is awake yet?” Billy smoothed down their pajama top.

“Dunno. Let’s see.”

Downstairs, the lights were already on. Dad woke up early to go for a run before work most days. It looked like he had already been in the kitchen and left; the tea kettle was still warm. Cynthia opened the fridge to look for something to eat.

Usually their fridge was only stocked with healthy food. Dad was particular about that kind of thing, and willing to shell out extra money if it meant getting himself and his kids real meat and eggs instead of the insect-protein alternatives. He bought fresh produce and whole grains at great expense to himself. Things like sugar cereal and snacks had always been rare. Now, however, Cynthia’s birth father Tony Delmont had moved back in, after almost 5 years of absence. And Tony’s tastes were….more proletarian. It meant that there were heavily processed toaster strudels and bags of chips on the house now.

Tony. Cynthia was still not sure what she thought. She was not yet comfortable with calling him by anything but his name. The years he had spent in her life could be counted on the fingers of one hand. She’d give him a chance. If he left again, for the 3rd time, that chance was all he would get.

She shoved a couple of toaster strudels in the microwave, two for herself and one for her sibling. Billy didn’t need to eat, just like they didn’t need to breathe-- they just liked to.

“Did you finish your geometry homework?” she asked her sibling, waiting for the microwave to beep.

Billy sat down at the kitchen table. Their posture was normal, if not a little slouchy. A few years ago, they would have just melted into a black blob of goo instead of trying to maintain their physical form. “Uhhhh. No. I’ll copy yours.”

“No the heck you won’t.”

“I’ll copy Rach--”

“What are you doing up so early?” Suddenly, Tony was in the kitchen with them, having walked in silently from the living room. His long hair hung around his shoulders and he wore the same clothes from the night before. His eyepatch was not on, and Cynthia found it hard not to stare at the unnatural whiteness of his prosthetic. “Morning, Cyn.”

“Morning.” She hesitated for a moment, then walked over and hugged him. Hugging Tony was always awkward, it felt like he did not have much experience doing it. Still, he wrapped his thin arms around her and patted her on the back. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

Billy said nothing, but their hair started to stick up from their head and their face started to split, revealing the black goo inside of them. As if noticing this, they used their hands to press their face back together, and hunched over, watching Tony.

The relationship between her sibling and her birth father was the source of a lot of underlying tension in the household. When Tony came back again 2 months ago, Billy acted the way they always did-- friendly and curious. But Tony’s disgust and fear was not something that he could hide. He’d cringe away to keep them from touching him, and would look at them the way that someone looks at something that wants to cause harm. Tony never said anything, never did anything, but his feelings were obvious.

And it was hurting Billy’s feelings.

Tony stretched and pulled a band from his wrist so that he could tie his hair back. “I was awake. I was talking with your Dad this morning.”

Sometimes he just said things like that, not realizing how uncomfortable it made other people. Tony was an open book. He didn’t lie, he didn’t even...half-lie, like he didn’t hide what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe that was part of having the Sight. Or, maybe that was Tony’s way of having the Sight.

As for Cynthia, she kept herself closed off. She didn’t want to See.

The microwave beeped, and she left Tony’s side to grab breakfast, putting the toaster strudels onto plates. She handed a plate to Billy and sat down at the table next to them. Tony sat down on her other side and wordlessly scrolled on his communicator.

“I heard Lulu Boggs wants to be prom queen,” Cynthia told her sibling, since she was unable to think of anything to talk about with her father. It wasn’t just because he was an adult-- Cynthia got along with adults just fine-- it was because she didn’t really know him. “You think anyone’s gonna vote for her?”

“Maybe,” said Billy. They bit off a corner of toaster strudel and their teeth grew longer and sharper as they ate. “Have you figured out who you’re going to ask to the dance? I’m gonna ask Andronicus Lemay, I think he really likes me. We’d make a cute couple.”

“Ewww,” Cynthia said jokingly. Andy was an Artificial in their class, weird but nice. She didn’t know who she was going to ask to Prom, but would probably end up asking Leah. It wasn’t that important to her.

Tony’s gaze had snapped up from the flat screen of his device and onto Billy. Some of the color had drained from his face. His good eye was very wide. “What do you mean, couple?” he asked them, his voice a little shaky.

There had never been a moment where Tony had spoken directly to them. Usually when Tony was in the same room as Billy, he didn’t even look at them. This had been the source of more than a few arguments between him and Dad over the last few months. The shock registered on Billy’s face. For a second, their skin rippled, like they were going to collapse back into their slime form. “Huh? Like date? Like me and Andy?”

The air in the kitchen grew heavy. Tony’s good eye was very blue, blue-er than blue.

“You-- why would you do that?”

“Tony,” said Cynthia haltingly, sensing what was about to happen without knowing why.

Billy was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with Tony. Their face split down the middle, all the way down to their neck and their hair began to float, stand on end. They shrugged, almost helpless, not understanding. “I dunno? He’s cute and I like him? What are you asking me?”

Tony smiled like he was in great pain. Like he was hurting. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head. “D-Does this boy know you’re...you know…”

“What, that I’m trans?” asked Billy. A few small eyes popped up on their foreheads and blinked. “Yeah, he knows. He’s nice, I went to get ice cream with him last week.”

“No. Does he know you’re not a person?”

There it was. The terrible thing. The terrible thing that she had always known Tony believed, but had never imagined he would say out loud. Billy stood up from the table abruptly and walked out of the kitchen. They were able to maintain emotional control enough to remain bipedal, but Cynthia could see that their body was slipping and changing. She heard them walk upstairs and shut the door to their bedroom. The fact that they did not slam the door in anger was indicative of their personality.

Furious on the behalf of her sibling, Cynthia stood up too. She grabbed her plate up off the table and clattered it into the sink. “What’s your problem?” she asked Tony, her voice raising just below a yell. “Why would you say that? That was so hurtful!”

Being almost yelled at made Tony flinch a little bit. “I know you care about them, but they’re not a real person. They’re not.You don’t know about those Things like I do, you don’t know what they can do to people. Billy just said that they want to go out with some boy? How is that fair to that boy? Some...some Thing just deciding that it likes you?”

7 YEARS AGO TONY TOUCHED HER FATHER’S BOOK AND AN ENTITY FROM BETWEEN DIMENSIONS NOTICED HIM. IT HAS FOLLOWED HIM EVER SINCE. IT HOLLOWED OUT HER MOTHER’S BODY. IT WANTS TONY’S BODY. IT LOVES HIM AND HATES HIM AND NEEDS HIM AND IT IS HUNGRY AND WILL NEVER STOP TRYING--

Cynthia closed her eyes to block herself from whatever knowledge she had just accessed. She did not need to know it. She did not need to understand Tony’s reasons for being so afraid of her sibling. Even if those reasons were valid, it still wasn’t right for him to make them feel...othered.

“Whatever,” she said. Tony looked miserable, staring down at his hands. “Billy is a person. They’re just a kid. You’ve been through a lot, but so have they. Something ate their whole family, their whole planet. I’ve Seen it.”

“I’ve Seen things too,” Tony said, very quietly. “Please, you have to understand. Something a lot like that thing did something bad to me, it’s still doing something to me. I—I just don’t want that happening to anyone else. These things, they can…change people’s bodies.”

“But you know that’s different.” Cynthia thought about the way her body had changed. Thought about how she was stronger than any other kid in her class, thought about how when her baby teeth fell out they were replaced by sharp canines and incisors. “What’s so wrong about Billy liking someone if he likes them back? They should get to be happy too.”

“They shouldn’t even be capable of liking a human that way.”

She knew that he wasn’t really thinking about Billy’s innocent crush on Andy Lemay. Tony was thinking about himself. Thinking about himself and some other...thing….that had set its sights on him, some other thing that had changed his body. Cynthia could understand this and could understand why he was hurt and afraid, but could not accept the way that he had just treated her sibling.

Billy was not the same as the thing that had set its sights on Tony.

But she didn’t have anything more she could say to him, to her father. Cynthia only shook her head and left the kitchen to be with her sibling. She left Tony alone with his dark thoughts.

#writing

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pitubea1910 · 7 years

Text

“What I hate the most...”

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Featuring: the Avengers

Words: 2618

Warning: angst, fights, alcohol and swearing.

Tags: @vashanatasha

Request: requested by Anonymous:

“Can i pls request a steve rogers/avenger!reader where he fell out of love with reader as he currently is in love with someone else so he broke up with her? the avengers had no idea what to do, cant exactly side with one of u as ur both avengers. Upset n drunk, during one of the stark party, reader make a scene as she watch him dancing with the other girl. Left afterward, not in her right mind, one of the avengers goes after her to take care of her. Which one is up to u. Thanks.”

Notes: so it had been ages since I wrote something with the Avengers and I still have some requests about them to do so here it goes! I want to say sorry for taking so long really but I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Your relationship seemed perfect. You loved Steve and he acted like he loved you. Apparently, that was it. An act. You didn’t even know how this happened. One day you were planning your next holidays and the next one he was breaking up with you claiming he loved someone else.

“Are you serious?” You asked him as he broke the news to you.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N), I never meant to hurt you, I swear. It just…happened” he said looking down at you with a worried look on his face.

“Have you…been with her?” You asked in a whisper.

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he looked down, not being able to look into your eyes any longer, feeling guilty for what he had done. But he couldn’t keep on doing this. He knew it would break your heart, which you didn’t deserve, but you didn’t deserve to be cheated on either. So he had to be honest with you and with himself.

“You have” you laughed sadly and looked away, tears coming up to your eyes.

“I’m sorry” he said again.

“If it wasn’t because of your fucking serum I swear I would take your eyes off and kill you Steve” you said looking at him with cold eyes, like you had never looked at him before. “I would throw you out of the window, down the tower and I wouldn’t even be sorry for your death” you added.

You knew those were empty words. It didn’t matter how much he hurt you, you knew you would never be able to do such things to him. You had been training by Natasha so you knew you could be lethal but not to him. Not to Steve Rogers, not even after he broke your heart.

“(Y/N)…” he said taking a step towards you but you took another one back.

“Don’t” you said. “Don’t ever say my name again, Rogers. Don’t ever look at me or…” you sighed and looked down. “I hate you” you whispered before turning around to leave the room.

You didn’t expect to see Tony and Natasha right there, listening to every word you said but you didn’t even care. You walked by their side and went to your room, locking it before punching the wall as hard as you could until your hand hurt.

“That was harsh” Tony told Steve downstairs.

“It had to be done” Steve said taking a seat on the couch with his head in his hands. “I couldn’t keep on lying to her. She didn’t deserve it” he added.

“No, she didn’t” Natasha said with a sigh. “But it’s done. There’s nothing you can do now”, she added.

“I know” Steve gulped.

The first few days after the break up you barely left the room. You just did it to go to the meetings and to take care of the Avengers stuff that you had to do, but once you were finished, you locked yourself in your room. The team tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t talk to anyone so they decided to give you time to heal.

Eventually, you finally came out of your room and joined the team daily activities. The team was happy to see you talking and eating like a normal person again but everything changed when you and Steve crossed paths. He tried to talk to you but all you did was replying with sarcasm or mean remarks. Nobody expected you to be over what happened but your anger wasn’t expected either.

“What do we do?” Wanda asked in a meeting. You were supposed to go to France to help the government with some attacks that had been going on but you didn’t know how to proceed.

“We need someone on the inside to make them believe we can be trusted and they let us now their intentions” Steve said.

“Sounds good” Tony said nodding. “A mole is always helpful but who’s going to do it? These guys are dangerous” he added.

“Rogers should do it. He’s good going behind people back” you said. Steve looked at you as the awkward silent appeared.

“Will you stop?” He said, obviously having enough of your daily comments.

“Should I?” You said looking at him.

“Yes, you should be professional” he replied.

“Sorry, Mr Perfect, I didn’t mean to take your place and hurt your feelings” you said sarcastic.

Everyone else was quiet, knowing they couldn’t exactly side with any one of you since it would be even worse for the situation. It was something you two had to solve by yourselves.

“Steve can’t do it. His face is too known” Bruce finally said to end the fight before it heated up. “What about Wanda?” He asked.

“I can do it” she shrugged.

“It’s settled then” Tony smiled.

“Good” you said getting up and leaving the room.

The mission was successful as usual even though the communication was a bit harder this time. By the time you got to New York again things didn’t change, not even a bit. The fights between you and Steve were stronger and stronger every day. Eventually, the situation calmed down. You looked like you were forgetting about everything or at least letting it go which everyone in the team thanked you for. Still, you wouldn’t even look at Steve.

“Team!” Tony said coming into the living room. “Party tonight!”

“What?” Peter asked.

“What for?” Clint asked.

“My birthday of course” Tony smirked.

“Your birthday was two months ago” You laughed. “And the party was huge. I think Clint is still hangover about it” you smirked.

“Shut up” Clint laughed.

“So what? I want to celebrate again” Tony shrugged.

“Are you just looking for an excuse to throw a party?” Bruce asked raining an eyebrow.

“Maybe” he shrugged. “You’re all invited of course and you can bring any friends you want” he added before leaving the room. Just Tony.

None of you refused to go. It had been ages since you had a night of fun and you all needed the distraction, the music and the booze. So at 6 p.m. Natasha, Wanda and you locked yourselves in Wanda’s room to get ready. None of you were seeing anyone so you decided you would be sexiest chicks in the room which, thanks to Nat’s outfits, it was an easy task.

“Isn’t it too slutty?” Wanda asked looking in the mirror.

“Sweetie, it’s been months since the last time you got laid. You need slutty” Natasha teased her making you laugh.

“Fuck you” Wanda laughed as well.

Even though you had started to get ready with plenty of time, you still were late to the party as usual but you didn’t care. No one would notice. The moment you stepped into the party you smiled looking around. Tony did know how to throw a party. Immediately, the three of you headed towards the bar to order some drinks and shots.

“Bucky you came!” You exclaimed surprise. The Winter Solder was still adjusting to this new life so he didn’t came to many parties.

“It was about time” he shrugged with a small smile.

“I’m glad you came” you said kissing his cheek.

You had always liked this guy. He was nice even when he didn’t talk much. You couldn’t blame him about it after the hell he had gone through but there he was, getting better day by day. On the other hand, it surprised you not to see Steve. He barely left his friend’s side, being the protector he was, so it surprised you that he wasn’t around.

“(Y/N)!” Natasha called your name. When you looked at her, you saw she was handing you a shot so you took it and poured down your throat. “Atta girl” she laughed.

“I needed that” you laughed as well.

The party went on and on for hours and Steve was still nowhere to be seen which it kind of worried you. Would he be okay? Your doubts disappeared when you were walking around the room and saw him walking down from his room with a blond girl hanging on his arm. Shannon.

He looked around just then and your eyes met his. It was her. You didn’t know until now but it was crystal clear. She was the girl that made your life miserable. With a gulp, you turned around and went to the bar once again. There, you saw Tony with a shot on his hand. Before he could drink, you took it from his hand and poured it down your throat before ordering another one.

“Wow, slow down” Tony laughed but you didn’t listen. In less than a minute you had two more shots. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Tony asked now worried.

“Nothing” you snapped as you ordered another one.

“(Y/N) slow down” Tony said taking the shot from your hand.

“Stark if you don’t give me that I swear I’ll break your arm here and now” you threatened him. He frowned looking at you before sighing and giving it back, watching you drinking it. “I saw her” you finally said. “Steve’s new girlfriend” you added.

“He brought her?” Tony asked and you nodded. “Bastard…” Tony mumbled looking around. It didn’t surprise him but he still couldn’t believe Steve would do that. When he looked back at you, you had another shot in your hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You’re no one to tell me to stop, playboy” you snapped before ordering a drink and walking away with it. Tony watched you as he sighed worried.

“This is not good” he sighed.

You had never drank so much in one night but you couldn’t stop. It hurt so much seeing him dancing with her. You really thought you were over him? Stupid, you told yourself as you ordered what could be your 8th drink of the night. You knew you were completely drunk, you couldn’t even see properly, everything was a blur and the room was spinning. So what?

As you ordered another one, you looked to your side just to see Steve and that girl talking a few feet away from you. It had to be a joke.

“Really?” You said loud enough for them to hear you. Both of them, turned to look at you.

“Fuck…” Steve mouthed as he saw how drunk you were. “What are you doing?” He asked coming closer to you to stop you from drinking.

“No. What are you doing?” You asked pocking his chest with your finger. “Bringing her here? How you dare?” You frowned.

“You’re drunk” he sighed.

“Like you cared” you laughed.

“I do” he frowned.

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You never did! Otherwise you wouldn’t have cheated on me with that Barbie! All those nights saying how much you loved me… shame of you!” You screamed. Many people was now looking at the scene but you weren’t aware of it. “You’re a liar Steve Rogers. People may see you as a hero but you’re a bastard with no respect for others. Good luck for you Blondie!” You told Shannon. “I hate you Steve” you told him. “And you know what I hate the most? That I still love you” you said before walking away from him.

Everyone had watched the scene but no one said anything. The party just went on except for you. All you did was go to your room, falling a couple of times on the stairs but you finally managed to get to your floor, not even noticing your cheeks were full of tears. You were so focused on getting to your room that you didn’t even notice Bucky following you.

“Hey” he said when you leaned against a wall, not being able to walk anymore.

“Oh! The Winter Soldier” you drunkenly smiled at him. “Always a pleasure” you winked.

“You’re wasted” he said. Before you could say anything, he wrapped his arm under your legs and picked you up, carrying you to your room. “Why did you do this?” He asked when he placed you in your bed.

“Because I’m pathetic” you sadly laughed before you broke into tears. “Because he came with her, he cheated on me and he’s been happy ever since while I’ve been miserable and now he dares to come here and…” you closed your eyes and shook your head which was an awful idea. Everything was spinning. “I need to throw up” you mumbled.

“You need a cold shower” Bucky said picking you up again and quickly going to the bathroom. When he put you on the floor to start the shower, you leaned down on the toilet and started throwing up. “Shit!” He exclaimed, leaning down by your side, putting your hair away and rubbing your back. “It’s okay” he whispered.

“It’s not” you whispered shaking your head.

Bucky didn’t really know what to say to make you feel better. Feelings weren’t his thing so he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. When you had calmed down a little, you got up and let him help you out of the dress you were wearing.

“I’ll be outside, call my name if you need anything alright?” He said. You nodded and walked into the shower as he left the bathroom.

Bucky sat on the bed, looking at the bathroom door with a worried expression. He had been watching you the whole night, drink after drink, seeing you get wasted since the moment you saw Steve with Shannon. How could Steve bring her? Yes, Shannon was really nice but you weren’t ready for the image of the two of them together. When Bucky saw you talking to him, he knew it wasn’t going to end well so when he saw you walking up the stairs he didn’t hesitate to follow, leaving you alone not being an option.

After fifteen minutes the bathroom door opened and you came out, looking sad and tired, with puffy eyes and sadness in your eyes. It broke his heart. You had always been so nice to him since he arrived, even when Tony didn’t even want to look at him you had been there for him, supporting him all the time. It made him want to protect you, make you happy, especially after Steve broke your heart.

He looked at you while you put your pj on and sat on the bed next to him, with a lost expression on your face. Finally, you sighed and looked at Bucky.

“I’m pathetic right?” You asked, much sober now.

“No” he said immediately, grabbing your hand. “You’re hurt. That’s all” he shrugged. “I guess it will take time for you to heal” he added rubbing your hand.

“When I saw them…” you shook your head looking down.

“He shouldn’t have brought her” Bucky said. “Everyone knows you’re still not over him. It was disrespectful” he added. You frowned a little and looked at him.

“Isn’t he your best friend?” You asked.

“He is” Bucky shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with him on everything. Being Captain America doesn’t make him perfect, you know?” You smiled a little and looked down at your hands together.

“Thank you Bucks” you finally said. He shrugged again with a small smile.

“It’s okay, I just want you to be okay” he said looking at you.

You looked at him into the eyes to find a warmth you hadn’t seen in a long time. It made you feel protected, like home, good. Maybe you weren’t happy at the moment, you actually had never felt worse, but somehow you knew that you would be able to feel happy again as long as Bucky was there.

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midnightstarsky · 7 years

Text

VS Cartel AU Chapter 1 Part 3

This is my cross-over fiction of vatanim sensin and the narcos history/tv show. Finally, after two months of plotting here’s the first part of the story. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Note: I don’t own any of the VS characters or narcos characters. These are characters based loosely on history so I any similarities are due to that.

All of these parts can be found under vs cartel au tag on my blog, where you can also find gifs and previews for the story and narcos show. And you can find a mash up trailer.

Hope you enjoy!

This one takes off where part 2 ends, hileon settle into married life and face increasingly challenging circumstances.

content warning: This is a cartel fic, so there will be mentions of violence and drugs from this point on from the story. So canon typical violence for a show like narcos is to be expected.

Chapter 1: The Beginning Part 3

Hilal and I settled in our own place in the city, settling into our new lives.

Hilal worked as a nurse in the nearby hospital, and I worked my cases around the city. Work was hard, and sometimes the nights were tough, but life was good.

Until as time progressed, the cases were rougher and longer. We were facing drug dealers with even more advanced weapons than what we were used to or prepared for. The drug dealers weren’t young teens with pistols anymore, they were young teens and adults with semi-automatic weapons that were aimed to kill and did kill. Nearly a hundred people were killed from cartel violence in a period of three years. Nearly two hundred people overdosed in that same period. Soon it became routine to face shootouts over a couple hundred kilos of cocaine, and it became more dangerous when we went out to make a bust. We were putting our lives at risk every day, and already we’d lost five DEA agents in the past year. Ali Kemal’s partner was killed when an informant betrayed her. I’d seen some horrific things, watching innocent people caught in the crossfire and watching what the fear and terror was doing to the neighborhoods especially affected.

I was starting to feel helpless, I was starting to doubt that I was even making a difference here.

It got harder every night to come home to Hilal after seeing the things I had to see. I couldn’t take bringing home disappointment and regret home to her. And it was about to get worse.

Chicago 2016

Leon opened the door and walked over to Hilal tiredly, leaning down to give her a quick kiss as she looked up at him with a frustrated expression. He frowned down at her in concern, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek and she leaned into his palm and sighed. Wordlessly, she grabbed his other hand and pulled him to sit beside her and leaned her head against his. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair and breathed her familiar scent in. She kissed his shoulder as she entwined her hand in his.

They stayed like that until she sat up to face him and asked, “That bad?”

“Another Greektown cocaine bust, this time with a bunch of teens shooting at us with machine guns,” he said tiredly looking down at his hands, “When we returned fire I ended up hitting one in the chest and killing him. He was just a kid, Hilal.”

Hilal was silent for a moment, “Good.”

Leon’s eyes snapped to his wife, “Hilal! What are you saying?”

She stood up and turned away from him, “He deserved to die.”

Leon studied her silently before standing and approaching her. He wrapped his arms around her middle and felt the tension in her body. She leaned back into his chest and eased.

She let out a pained sigh as he asked, “What happened?”

She turned around and buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close.

“A sixteen-year old girl overdosed and died in the ER today,” she said shakily, “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, we got a pregnant woman who had overdosed from cocaine.”

Hilal breathed shakily as he kissed the top of her head, “She died an hour later, we tried to save the baby but we couldn’t. That little baby boy died in my arms, Leon.”

She was shaking now, and Leon pulled away to cradle her face in his hands, “Hilal, you did what you could.”

She nodded slowly, “I keep telling myself that. But Leon, she was found in Greektown and they found out she had swallowed packets of cocaine. She was one of those, what did you tell me they call them? Cocaine mules? The poor girl had swallowed twenty packets of cocaine. God, she was carrying 120 grams of cocaine, Leon. Two of the packets had burst and got into her bloodstream, overdosing her immediately. She had twelve grams of cocaine enter her blood directly sending her heart into cardiac arrest, she stood no chance once even one of those packets burst. We were never going to be able to save her.”

Leon breathed sharply and held her tighter.

“I feel so helpless, Leon,” she said tiredly, “Like whatever I do isn’t making a difference.”

He felt his heart break, because he never thought he’d see his strong stubborn Hilal feel like he did, like a failure. She never gave up, and damn anyone who stood in the way of her goals. It made him feel like he had failed his wife, she had been his rock and support when things got tough and here he was with no answer for her own struggle.

“Why does this keep happening?” Hilal sobbed into his chest.

Leon brought her closer and felt his own eyes water, “I don’t know.”

The cocaine business had moved from the typical cartel locations to Greektown, every week there were drug traffickers caught or gunned down. And it wasn’t just the police fighting these new drug traffickers, gang violence in the area was on a high. Murder rates were skyrocketing, and bodies were piling up like never before in Chicago. Not even Al Capone could claim to have brought the kind of violence we were seeing. And it seemed like there was no stopping it. And every day, there were reported deaths from overdoses, with cocaine not from Mexico, but cocaine from Greek traffickers and with Greek connections. It was becoming increasingly clear that we weren’t even making a dent in our work. If we managed to confiscate ten kilos of cocaine in a day, they were smuggling in 1 ton of cocaine a day. They were toying with us, letting us find the obvious cache of cocaine while smuggling the real loads in. It was frustrating because we knew we were being played and we couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Ali Kemal and I were just about banging our heads against the walls, begging our superiors that we needed to do more.

Finally, someone listened.

We were called to the office of the head of the DEA in Chicago, Agent Fatma, a formidable woman who had dealt with the worst cartels in Chicago for the past 15 years. There were even rumors she had done about four years of undercover work in Colombia during the second Search bloc era. Other rumors said she had been instrumental in capturing key Sinaloa cartel leaders in Mexico. There were other rumors too, some too unbelievable to even mention here. Whatever the truth was, this was the universally accepted truth among our fellow DEA agents, Special Agent Fatma was a certified badass.

She brought us in and explained that she herself had seen the beginnings of this cartel but for years they had been a minor problem, her superiors had told her to focus on the Sinaloa cartel trafficking activities. But as the Sinaloa cartel was falling with the capture of El Chapo and his associates, a new cartel had arisen to take their place of power. And it was becoming clear that this new player in town wasn’t going away and they were more powerful than ever.

“After we looked further into it, we’ve found that this cartel is a sophisticated and complex organization that has infiltrated and dominated the cocaine business in the past five years from their base in Thessaloniki in Greece,” she explained.

That peaked both of their interests, the brothers were born in Thessaloniki.

Agent Fatma eyed them, “You’re probably wondering why I brought you brought you in today. Well, brace yourselves, you might not like what you’re about to find out. But it’s important that you know, because we are going to need you both for this case.”

She opened a drawer and grabbed a folder. She tossed it front of Leon who peered down before glancing up.

“What do you know about CevVas cartel?” Agent Fatma asked seriously.

Not liking what we heard that day was the understatement of the century.

Leon stumbled home, nearly falling twice as he walked up the stairs to their small house in the inner suburbs. He grabbed onto the railings to steady himself before heaving into the flowerbed under the windows of their home. Hilal was going to kill him for ruining her favorite rose bush he had planted for her birthday. He took a shaky breath as his hair fell before his eyes and he leaned his forehead against the railing. He breathed deeply, gripping the railing feeling like he could collapse at any moment.

The door opened, and he immediately felt a familiar presence support him.

“Where have you been? Your brother called and said you left him at his place nearly two hours ago?” Hilal asked worriedly, “Leon, you smell like alcohol, how much have you had?”

Leon didn’t respond only leaned over and heaved again. He felt Hilal’s cool hands stroking his hair as she leaned into his side to support his weight.

“You should have called me and let me know so I could have picked you up, or at least keep an eye on your intake tonight,” she reprimanded, “You know better than to drink alone, you promised me you wouldn’t go off on a bender when you’re upset or frustrated. You know there are more positive ways to deal when it gets tough, you don’t see me getting drunk when I have a hard day at work…”

She was interrupted when Leon threw up again on her roses.

Hilal sighed, “Well, you’ll have to buy me new roses now. Come in.” He managed a nod before feeling dizzy again and turning green.

His wife shot him another disapproving look, but Leon’s hair shielded his eyes from the worst of Hilal’s ire. She huffed as she positioned herself under his arm and guided him with surprising gentleness considering her irritation at his stupidity. She expertly helped him through the house with Leon feeling sturdy on his feet with her help. She may have been a foot shorter than him, but her small frame hid a stubborn strength that manifested itself in physical strength.

Once they were inside, she led him to their couch near the kitchen. Leon sat down and leaned his head against the cushions and closed his eyes.

“What could possibly possess you to be so stupid and drink yourself into a stupor?” Hilal demanded as she rummaged through the kitchen.

“Hilal,” he moaned, “Do we really need to do this right now?”

“Yes, we do,” Hilal responded sternly, “Open your eyes.”

Leon slowly opened his eyes to see a cup of water in his face. He took the glass as he eyed his wife with a frown. She glared at him before shoving two aspirin pills into his hand. He swallowed them quickly and finished off the glass before handing it to his wife. She placed the glass on the coffee table before taking a seat on the armchair across him and crossing her legs.

She looked at him expectantly, “Well, what have you to say for your idiotic behavior.”

He looked back at her stubbornly, “I’d rather not say.”

Hilal frowned and leaned forward, “Leon, tell me the truth. Your eyes are red so you’ve clearly been crying and you never let yourself get this wasted alone. Did another kid die in a shootout? Did you lose another DEA agent?”

He looked down and shook his head.

She was worried now, “Leon, please tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out, my love.”

Hilal reached across the coffee table to take his hand in hers, “Please.”

He looked up at her, his eyes full of despair, “This burden should be mine alone.”

“I know your brother knows, I could sense his anger through the phone,” she pointed out, “but apparently, I can’t be trusted? No, it’s not that you don’t trust me, it’s that you want to protect me. So l’m to be sheltered? I know I’ve made it quite clear, husband, that you do not get to shelter me from the dangers of your job. Or did you forget the time I locked you out of the house for a full day because you decided not to tell me that your brother lost his partner in a shootout?”

“Hilal, stop being so damn stubborn,” he whined as he covered his eyes with his free hand, “I’m not better off for knowing what I know.”

But his darling Hilal wasn’t about to let this go, “I’m your wife, we promised to share everything. I don’t keep secrets from you.”

He sighed and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss, “Hilal, just this once, let me deal with this myself.”

She pulled her hand away to grab his chin, forcing him to face her gaze. Her eyes were hard and determined.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume the worst,” she warned.

Leon raised an eyebrow, “Trust me, I don’t think there’s anything worse than this Hilal.”

Hilal held his gaze, “Try me.”

He pulled away and leaned back as he ran a hand through his hair as he breathed out.

After a moment, he faced Hilal.

“Our supervisor called us into her office,” he began, “She told us that all the cocaine trafficking around Greektown, all the shootings, all the deaths had been tracked down to one name. They’re a new cartel but they’ve taken over the cocaine business as the Sinaloa cartel was being brought down. They’ve traced them to sources in Greece, specifically Thessaloniki.”

Hilal raised an eyebrow curiously but didn’t say anything.

He stopped and took a deep breath, “They’ve been able to find a couple names as well, and they’re well respected members of Greek society, practically billionaires.”

Hilal snorted, “Respectable drug dealers.”

Leon simply said, “They’re quite powerful, rumors are that they’ve bought off politicians and police to make sure their business isn’t hindered.”

His wife looked disgusted, “The very people who should be protecting their country are lining their pockets with drug money.”

“Hilal, if you want to know so badly, stop interrupting me,” he laughed bitterly.

She pursed her lips and nodded.

“Agent Fatma gave us the names and photos of the people in charge of and connected to this Greek cartel,” he forced out as he reached into his jacket to pull out a small stack of papers and threw them on the table between them.

His wife moved closer and glanced down at the papers.

Leon grabbed her wrist gently to stop her causing her to glance up at him.

“Hilal, all our sources are telling us that the man behind all of this, all of the drugs and deaths is,” he choked the words out, “My father.”

His wife gasped and brought a hand to her mouth before glancing down.

He reached into the papers to pull out a photo of his father, he hadn’t seen the man in over twenty years but one of the few memories he had held onto from his life in Greece had been this one memory of his father laughing and smiling as he surprised his family with gifts. Leon could never forget the easy smile of his father, the love and kindness in the man’s eyes as he gazed at his wife and children. He had gazed at them as if they were the most precious possession he had.

Had that been the case? Had this twisted monster, and he was a monster if even half of the things Leon had read about Vasili was true could attest to, really cared for his family? Could a man who had no problem using pregnant women as cocaine mules, who didn’t care that he was selling poison by the kilo, who didn’t care who died to make sure he made his money, really find it in himself to love or care about someone?

Leon wasn’t sure he even wanted the answer to that, all he knew was that he felt like his whole world was destroyed. He’d always suspected that perhaps his father wasn’t this beacon of goodness, but he never expected this, never expected that his father was responsible for so much harm.

All Leon could think of was one thing.

He was the son of a monster.

Leon felt ill.

Hilal was studying him, as if waiting for him to say something.

Leon sighed and held both of her hands in his, “There’s more, Hilal.”

He stroked her fingers as he said quietly, “The official underground name of the cartel is the CevVas cartel, Vas for Vasili and Cev for Cevdet.”

Hilal’s snatched her hands away and stood up, “No, it can’t be true. He’s dead, he’s been dead since we were little, it’s why we followed your mother here.”

She was shaking her head frantically, “No, Leon, it can’t be true.”

His heart broke for her, her mother had told Hilal and her sister that their father had died in suspicious circumstances. Azize had explained that their father’s death was why they had moved to the United States, to keep them safe. It was more of an explanation than Veronica had given Leon and Ali Kemal, and it had allowed the sisters to think fondly of their father Leon now realized. Perhaps Azize hoped Cevdet dead too.

He grabbed a paper and held it out, “More than anything I wish I was wrong, my darling Hilal. I’m so sorry.”

Hilal grabbed the paper and swallowed a sob as she traced the letters beneath the photo of a man, and there was no doubt in her mind that her husband was telling the truth.

“He’s Vasili’s second in command, many believe the brains behind the operation,” Leon explained as he watch Hilal process all this.

She dropped the paper on the table and ran her hands through her hair, pacing around the room.

“There’s more,” Leon ground out.

Hilal turned towards him with angry tears, “What else? Spit it out, Leon.” He pulled another photo and showed her, “Yildiz has been living with your father for the past four years. She’s basically known in Greece as the richest heiress, practically treated like a princess there.”

Yildiz was smirking the photo, dressed in the finest clothes money could buy with a sizable emerald pendant hanging from her neck and her wrists and fingers dripping in gold and diamonds.

Hilal looked sick, “She can’t be this foolish? This careless?” “We have intel from the Greek police that would have us believe that Yildiz is quite aware of everything, we suspect she may be involved,” he explained.

His wife looked as overwhelmed as he still did. He tried to reach for her but she swatted him away and walked silently to the kitchen.

He mentally cursed himself, he should have left the part about her father and Yildiz. But he knew that Hilal would have found out eventually, her father alone was richer than El Chapo. When he fell, and he would, the world’s eyes would be on Greece and the CevVas cartel. Hilal would know then and she would never forgive him for keeping something so important from her.

Hilal returned with a bottle of the vodka his DEA partner had gotten him for his birthday and a glass. She sat down and filled the glass, all while Leon eyed her curiously.

She held up the glass and asked him, “Just so we’re clear, our fathers oversee the largest cocaine cartel in the world, they’re billionaires making money off the very poison that is killing people in the hundreds in this city alone, and they control the authorities and government in Greece. Anything I didn’t understand?”

He shook his head.

Hilal leaned her head back and finished off the glass, before grimacing at the taste.

Leon would normally have laughed at his wife, knowing that she wasn’t much of a drinker. But all he could do was study her quietly.

Hilal shook her head before filling another glass, “Where do we go from here?”

He leaned back, “They’re sending Ali Kemal next month to start gathering evidence against the cartel, and I’ve been assigned to join DEA operations within the next year. I will leave for Athens probably after some preparation, Ali Kemal has already worked undercover for a while so they will probably send him ahead to start some intel gathering.”

“I’m coming with you,” she interrupted.

Leon looked ready to argue but Hilal raised a hand to stop him.

She nodded, “If you think I’m not going to let you go off alone to take down our fathers while I stay here, you don’t really know me. I’m going to be at your side to the end of the road, Leon.”

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he could last a week without seeing Hilal let alone a year or two long mission. Maybe it made him selfish to want to bring Hilal somewhere she could be a target, but he didn’t care about that right now.

“All right,” he agreed.

Hilal took another swig before he reached over to grab the glass.

“Hey,” she protested.

“Let’s make sure only one of us is hungover tomorrow morning,” he said as pulled the bottle away.

A year later, Hilal and I were boarding the plane to Athens.

For me, I saw it as my duty and responsibility to undertake this mission. I had watched my city become worse rather than better, I’d watched too many lives extinguished too soon. My father and his cartel had brought war to my city, to my adopted country, and that I couldn’t take. I was going to take the fight to them. I felt like a soldier sent off to war, telling myself that I had to do this. I also told myself that I had to stop my father’s evil, that it was my brother and my responsibility to make sure our father was behind bars at the end of this. That by stopping him we would leave a better legacy for our family, and a better name for our family. That my children wouldn’t have to live with the shame of who their grandfather was because their father had stopped him.

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

#hileon #hilal x leon #vatanim sensin #wounded love #vs cartel au #chapter 1 #vatanim sensin fic

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pillsofpinktrash-blog · 7 years

Text

Spectre 5 is Down (1/3)

The feeling came to Ezra like a punch to the gut. The ripple in the force made him stumble backward. Confused, but pulling back his composure, he strengthens the grip on his saber. Nothing around him signaled that anything had gone wrong in the mission. Despite the obvious blaster fire that was being rained down on the crew. But that wasn’t out of the normal. He continued to deflect bolts as he slinked himself into a crevasse in the wall to pull out his comm. “Spectre 1, this is Spectre 6, did you…” he paused, not sure of how to phrase it “… feel that?” “Feel wha-? What was it?” More fire sounded from Kanan’s side of the comm and he sighed “Spectre 6, this isnt quite the time for a lesson,” the comm shut off and went silent. Ezra would get no reassurance. A feeling of dread plauged the boy as he felt his surroundings for where he would safely be able to make it back to the ship. With all sense of what would be easiest, he should make left down the hallway, down the next corridor, up the lift and to the hangar. However something about that plan did not feel right, something nagged him in the other direction, something to do with the feeling. Without thinking, the boy lept from his hiding place and sprinted down the hall to the right. Using his weapon to take out any imperial soldier in his way. The force guided him down each path, he followed it blindly, knowing that he needed to follow it, but not yet understanding why. As he reached the next turn he slowed to a walk, he had taken care of all troopers in the area, And felt that what he had been searching for was right there, on the other side of the corner. He suddenly became afraid of what may be on the other side. He stepped around the corner only to see a body, curled up on the floor, and entangled in a dark cloak, similar to the one he wore for this mission. The one Hera made everyone wear for this mission… to hide their identities. A pang of fear and dread filled the boy as tears welled up in his eyes. Dropping to his knees and retracting his lightsaber, the boy pulled the body of his fallen comrade into his arms. Her once purple, now red hair plastered onto her face by the blood caused by the gash he now saw on her forehead. He could sense her to still be alive, yes, but barely holding on. In a state of shock, he fumbled to grab his comm “all Spectres, this is Spectre 6” he tried to get a deep breath to stop his sobs, but his breath caught and he let out a short cry, terrifying the rest of the crew “Spectre 5 is down… Sabine is down” His heart dropped as the words escaped his mouth, he awaited a response as he held the dying girl, unsure of what to do, he positioned himself against the wall and carefully pulled her into his lap so that he could put her weight on his chest. He examined her body, blaster marks evident on the sides of her arm, and on the side of her neck. A bloody gash across her hairline, a bloody nose, and bruises on her knuckles suggested she had somehow been engaged in a fist fight. The rest of her body was covered by the civilian clothes Hera insisted on her dawning to keep a low profile. Blood soaked through her shirt in spots, one above her left breast, and one on her right side. Ezra was too afraid of what he would see if he tried to remove the cloak or her shirt. “Where are you?” Hera sounded through the comm, her voice sounding deflated. “Send me your location” Ezra quickly grabbed his trasmitter and did as the captain had asked. Pausing to wonder how they were going to get out. Then wondering how he would get Sabine out. She was unconscious and, though she was now much smaller than him and he was very capable of carrying her, he was unsure of how he would defend them come any trouble. “About 250 meters down that hall there should be some escape pods, Spectre 6, jettison yourselves and wait for pickup.” Hera said, sounding unsure “Do what you can to help Ezra, we will come for you once we complete th-” “You’re going to try to finish this mission?!?” Ezra cried “We have to get her help, and soon, shes lost alot of blood and…” he trailed off, staring at her pale skin and wiping a tear from his eye. “Its what she would have wanted, Ezra” Hera reminded him, grimmly. “The only thing we can do now is get her to safety and hope to the force that everything will work out” With that Ezra began to stand, as he did so sabine began to stirr. Incoherent Mumbles escaped her mouth before a shriek of pain as she was brought into awareness. She gathered what little strength she had and tried sit up. Ezra, noticing the change in her consciousness, attempted to pull her to her feet with an arm around her shoulders, her knees were unable to hold her and she fell back to she ground with an audible gasp of pain. The young boy, now just barely holding back tears bent down to hold the girl in his arms. He walks slow, not wanting to hurt her anymore, and trying to make her go back to sleep. He knew this to be a medically bad idea, but he didn’t want her to be in pain, hoped she could sleep safely until he had access to med supplies. Once the duo reached the pods, she was once again unconscious and dead weight in his arms. Not wanting to disturb her, Ezra used the force to open and activate the pod. laying the Mandalorian on the floor, he shot the two of them away from the Imperial vessel. Turning back to Sabine, Ezra began to lose composure. How dare someone do this to her. No one has any right to hurt her in this way. Becoming frustrated, he begins hitting the sides of the pod. A compartment opens from one of the panels his fists connects with and inside he finds a Med kit. For the first time, he takes her shirt off without ill intentions, and examines her wounds. Her arms covered in bruised and cuts. Becoming angry as he takes note of which ones are self inflicted and which ones are new. He has always felt confused of why she would do that to herself, but not until now did it anger him. ‘How could she do that to herself when she faces threats and danger that do the same thing and she understands that risk’ he examined the gash on her breast, someone attacked her with a sharp object, probably the same as what happened to her forehead. Next to the blaster marks, a chunk of her side was taken out and the side of her neck, blasters cauterize wounds, however, her neck was still blood covered, this lead him to believe that the shots happened before the fight. He began applying an ointment to the cuts, and adding some gauze onto the oozing gashes, taking care to make sure she was perfectly bandaged. He brought his body next to hers and traced her arm with his finger, something he remembered his mom having done after he had gotten a scraped knee, her way of calming him down.

Ezra awoke as he felt the pod snap into place with the ghosts port. Sitting up, and confused for a moment, the boy rubbed his groggy eyes. Smiling, he looked to his side and began to lightly shake his girl awake. “Bean, Hera has come for us, We’re home, you are going to be okay” When the girl doesn’t wake, he begins shaking her harder. “Bean? BEAN?!?”

(1/3) to be continued

#star wars rebels #swr #swr au #swrfanfic #au #sabine #sabine wren #ezra #ezra bridger #sabezra #sabezra?#sabezra fanfic

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