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baratiddyappreciator · 5 months

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Giving the Baki Cast Massages (NSFW)

I couldn't resist, but also someone requested Chiharu get added to the roster, so like a good circus clow I'm going to jingle along and do as I am asked UwU. More long-form than the initial post because I like flexing my creative muscles when it comes to smut. NSFW under the cut, minors DNI, we don't fuck with you.

Chiharu:

You ask him if he wants a massage and it takes him a full three days to walk up to you and sheepishly admit that yeah, he would like a massage, actually. It would be really nice if you could do that for him pookie.

There's a lot of tension in his neck and shoulders, as well as his feet. He can usually deal with it just fine, the man is tough, but he really only thought about, you know, having himself be taken care of to get that tension released.

The second you get started, he starts moaning. The man is shameless, he'll just fully moan and whine. And much like Jack, one of the main struggles you'll face is just getting him to sit fucking still. Seriously, he'll wiggle the entire fucking time, while Jack might just sit after the first little bit, Chiharu will wiggle the entire. Fucking. Time.

Do you have to dig to get all the knots and tension out? Yeah. Are your arms going to hurt? Yeah. Is it worth it? Absolutely. He's your fidgety little shit and he greatly appreciates everything you do for him. Will he return the favour? He would love to! Should you let him? No lmao, he'll try very hard but he just will not do good, baby has no idea how to give someone a massage lmao.

NSFW ahead!

Baki: Initially, it had started with you sitting on his hips, your hands kneading at his firm and powerful muscles, which had tensed and relaxed beneath your fingertips in an almost rhythmic motion, had gone completely lax for quite some time. But between his humming and moaning and little wiggles, you'd gotten quite worked up yourself. He'd pretended not to know, of course, but when you leaned in, laying flat across his back, playfully humping him, he couldn't pretend not to know what effect he'd had on you anymore. So here you were, hands pressed against his chest now, kneading at the firm muscle beneath your palms as his cock repeatedly slid in and out of your sloppy hole, slick smeared across his hips and thighs as it dripped down his shaft.

He was bouncing you up and down on him like you were a doll that weighed nothing, and honestly, to him, you probably did weigh almost nothing, you knew that he was plenty strong enough to manhandle you like this. That was part of the appeal, wasn't it? His hips slammed into you, that sweet sticky spot that made you see stars was probably bruised, but it just felt so good. Most of you was simply propped up, even when you weren't doing the work, you were still getting the breath knocked out of you as he pounded into you from below, letting out short pants and grunts as his fingers dug into your hips.

"See baby? I said I'd return the favour!"

Kozue: Your hands had been working at her shoulders and neck for a while now as she worked on her essay. A few mistakes here and there that she hastily corrected, seeking out your advice in a few other spots, but once she'd finally had enough of working on her essay, she'd decided to put your hands to a better use, your fingers burried deep inside of her as she rode your hand and your thigh at the same time, the other cupping the base of her skull, her own hands gripping desperately at your shirt as she kissed you like her life depended on it, moaning and mewling softly. Your hands were starting to cramp from how much you'd been using them, but she wasn't done yet, surely would wouldn't leave her high and dry, right?

Her own hands slid up under your shirt to meet your chest, giving a gentle squeeze before she tweaked your nipples, her nails biting into your skin as she gently scratched down your chest towards your hips, her own rolling harder against your palm, your fingers scissoring inside of her as her walls fluttered around them, her orgasm clearly coming closer and closer, her soft moans growing more breathy, picking up in pitch and volume with each stroke of your fingers against the sweet spongy spot at the front of her cunt, slick practically pouring out of her onto your hand.

"Sorry about the mess, I just really needed a hand."

Hanayama: Very rarely did Hanayama let you grind on him this boldly unless it was the front of his thigh. You almost felt like you were committing a sin as you ground against his powerful back muscles, leaving a trail of arousal in your wake along his back tattoo, but he didn't seem to mind it at all, and it was doing more for getting a particular knot out of his back that your hands (and elbow) had for the past few minutes. He'd said to consider this a reward, and honestly, you would. How many people did you know that could get away with cumming on Hanayama's back? As far as you were aware, you were the only one that had had that special privilege so far.

He wasn't much help, simply laying there, glancing back at you out of the corner of his eye over his shoulder as your hand slid down your hips to meet your sex, deftly giving yourself that extra bit of stimulation as you ground harder into the spot that hadn't let up yet. He grunted, his hips shifting slightly, the muscle beneath you throbbing as your hips kept working. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, harder and harder, faster and faster, your hand working in tandem with your hips for just that little bit more, before you were coming undone with a whine, trembling just as the knot in his back finally released, earning a low groan from the man beneath you.

"Well, aren't you a little miracle worker?"

Chiharu: A mess. He was a mess. Fidgetting and wiggling around non-stop, could you really be blamed for getting turned on with his constant wriggling against you? He caused this problem, and now he can fix it. You were just trying to be nice and help him with all that tension in his shoulders, and now look at what he did. Stupid Chiharu and his stupid wiggling. Oh but you could tell that he was sorry as he eagerly took you with his mouth, licking, sucking, kissing. He was doing such a pretty job too, those big dopey eyes of his locked on yours, so expressive. It was obvious that he didn't know what he did wrong in the slightest, but regardless, he was very sorry.

His hips rolled again, seeking friction, but a simple click of your tongue and a shove at his hip with your free hand had him giving up on that just yet. For now, he could put his mouth, normally reserved for talking a big game and getting him into trouble, to a much better use. He pulled away briefly to press a kiss to your hip, and while he could apologies as much as he wanted to, you knew that he wouldn't learn his lesson. Until he did, it wouldn't hurt to give him another massage and see if he picked up on his mistakes.

"Baby doll, please forgive me already, I'm working hard here!"

Katsumi: Things started out playfully and innocently. You'd just wanted to do something sweet for him, a simple shoulder rub and a cuddle, and now he had you face down, ass up, one of his hands wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you hard enough to make you see stars and forget your name, hissing some of the filthiest words you've ever heard come out of his mouth into your ear, his other hand between your legs, his touch teasing you to the point of madness. His futon was a mess, blankets strewn about everywhere, one of his pillows was on the other side of the room, long forgotten and abandoned until later when one of you would go over and pick it up.

His hips rolled towards the end of his thrusts, and if you'd been supporting your own weight, your legs would have simply stopped working by now, pleasure coursing through your system as his hand teased your most sensitive area in focused, slow rubs. He was going to be the death of you. You weren't even able to appreciate all your hard work as he leaned over you, your face shoved into his remaining pillow as he pounded into you from above. And all of this because you'd pinched him.

"That's it sugar, take it, I'm just giving back what you gave."

Jack: Your knees were pinned to your chest, baring you wide open for the massive blonde that was currently using you like a glorified pocket pussy, his hips were ruthless in their pursuit of bringing you pleasure, the sound of your skin meeting his was accompanied by a wet clap. If you'd have known that this was how he'd react to you biting his ear while you were massaging his neck, you might have had him lay down somewhere that wasn't the kitchen floor. The only thing between you and the hard tile floor was his sweater, previously laid out so his chest wouldn't get cold as he'd lain on the floor, though he insisted he didn't need it.

Each plunge of his cock sent a wave of pleasure shooting up your spine, his breaths coming out in short pants and grunts, though just as you were getting used to this, he paused for just a moment, pulling your legs to wrap around his waist as his face buried into the crook of your neck, a deep grow escaping him, your nails sinking into his shoulders as he rocked into you hard enough to make you have some semblance of a worried thought, a vague impression that you'd have imprints of the tiles on your back, that your hip would have a bruise from where it had hit the floor when he'd flipped you off of him to pin you down. His teeth closed gently around your bottom lip before he kissed you hungrily, his brutal and relentless pace not letting up.

"That's it honey, let me make you feel as good as you made me feel."

Kosho: His fingers had snared over your hands, holding them firmly in place as his hips rolled against yours, the wall at your back. Had you known that massaging his hands for him would have had this effect on him, you might have done it sooner. Each slow roll of his hips into yours were driving you crazy, hitting just the right spot to make you want to claw the skin on his back off and maul him right then and there, but your legs were, decidedly, not cooperating right at that moment, so instead of doing any of that, not that you could in the first place, you simply leaned in closer towards him, and he pressed his lips to your forehead with a sly smirk. If you wanted him to go faster, you'd have to provoke him, and that wasn't going to be easy to do.

Each whine or plea to leave your lips was blissfully ignored as he slowly pumped into you, each stroke hitting a different spot that had you rolling your eyes and thrashing against his powerful grip, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair and pin him down so you could get off, but he was determined to take his time with this, make things slow and sweet, to have you shaking and sobbing against him out of sheer relief. He didn't need to fuck you dumb, after all, he could take his time and make you feel cherished.

"Don't worry baby, I've got you, you just sit back and relax."

Kureha: That had been a dangerous train of thought that you'd followed up on. You'd known it was risky to just walk up to him while he was at work and start massaging him. And now look at you? Staring at the door, which rocked up and down with your vision as Kureha fucked you on his desk, bent you over it's hard wooden surface and made you remember that you were his bitch and his alone. You dreaded the moment that someone walked in and saw you like this, imagining what it could spell for Kureha's reputation if someone caught him doing this to you during work hours. A hand covered your mouth, but only loosely. He wanted you to make noise, you could practically feel his cocky smirk, his hair trailing along the desk as he bent over you, hips slamming against yours.

You knew that you were making a small pool on his desk, you had to be as he fucked you ruthlessly, hitting an angle that had your already weak feeling legs buckling, the only things holding you up being him and his desk, which rocked subtly with each thrust. You could see shadows passing through the frosted glass, being blurred slightly as your eyes rolled back, your body tightening and shivering as you came on his shaft for the second time, a breathless laugh escaping him.

"That's right, you've been so good taking the initiative, why don't you enjoy your reward?"

Retsu: He whined, writhing beneath you as your hips rolled against his, his cheek pressing against the hard wooden floors. You supposed it was a good thing that he'd just cleaned them, that way he wouldn't get all dusty, but it was a real shame that the two of you were making a mess all over said nice clean floors. Your hand squeezed his neck softly, enjoying the feeling of the powerful muscles flexing beneath your hand as your hips met over and over and over, his face flushed a bright red, warmth spreading from his forehead down to his chest, it was truly a sight, his hair messy and splayed out around him. It would be a perfect hand-hold, but you didn't want to risk pulling any of it out, that would be more of a shame than getting cum on the floor.

He breathed out pleas and admiration as you fucked him, because as always, he'd simply allowed you to take charge and do as you pleased. Apparently that involved you massaging his shoulders, earning an abrupt and startled moan, and then finding the sound to be so appealing that you decided to see how else you could get him to make it. A gentle smack on his rear? Yup! You tested another method by swiftly leaning down and sinking your teeth into the powerful muscles of his shoulder, earning another startled moan, much to your satisfaction.

"D-darling! Please, be gentle!"

Doppo: Smug old bastard, who the hell did he think he was? You'd tried to be nice, and simply wound up with him leaning into the nice gesture with a smug smile and a played up "ohhh, your hands are sooo strong!" from him. So you'd tried to be domineering, were still trying, actually, but his response to that was to pin you to the couch and go down on you like a man starved. Were you in control? Not really, no, he had full control over this encounter, much to your chagrin. Another pass of his tongue had you mewling against your better judgement, pleasure sending a shiver through your body, your toes curling. Were you genuinely mad? That depended on how much longer he'd wait to make you cum.

You couldn't even grab his head and force him to dig in properly, no, he'd wrapped his tie around your hands and you were still struggling to get it off, your arms stuck firmly behind your back. You couldn't even use your legs to pull him in, because each time you tried, he simply pushed your legs wide open against the couch and slowed down even more. A groan escaped you as his hot mouth came off of you, a smirk on his lips as he finally sank a single finger into you.

"Impatient now, aren't we sweetheart?"

Shibukawa: You'd never expected Shibukawa to throw you, of all people. You'd just put your hands on his shoulders to give him a massage and BAM, you wound up on your back, staring up at the ceiling, not knowing what the hell happened until a moment later when he'd cleared his throat, a mischievous smirk on his face as he prodded your lips with his cock. You were choking now, head bobbing up and down his shaft, still somewhat dazed and achy, but perfectly happy to comply, his hand on your head, not really guiding just yet, but you knew that if he decided he wanted more, he'd take more. His fingers gently patted the top of your head, soothing the spot where the back of your skull had impacted the floor, the only apology you were sure you were getting for the next little while.

Your hands were free to do whatever they pleased though, if he wanted you to stop he'd say so, so until he decided to tell you to stop, you decided to take your own pleasure. Fucking your own hand as the Aiki master fucked your willing mouth was how you wound up, your own spit smeared across your chin and lips, your eyes half-lidded as you looked up at him, whimpering and moaning around his shaft, which leaked precum down your throat.

"Now now, haven't I told you not to sneak up on me before dear?"

#baki headcanons #baki son of ogre #baki the grappler #baki dou #grappler baki #baki rahen #baki hanma #kozue matsumoto #hanayama kaoru #chiharu shiba #katsumi orochi #jack hanma #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #retsu kaioh #doppo orochi #shibukawa gouki

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angi-writes-filth · 1 year

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| The Bad Guy | Karl Heisenberg/Reader

Summary: “Fuck, did this made you hate yourself. If you didn’t hate him even more, though, you wouldn’t have tried to escape in the first place.”

Note: This is prolly the first thing I’ve officially written on this blog, and another one of the shits I write on a whim because I’m controlled by my hormones. 😔 If Daddy Heisenberg doesn’t want to hatef*ck me, I’LL MAKE HIM DO IT! Also, excuse my grammar and if what I write sounds awkward... I’m not a native speaker and have no one to beta’d for me lmao lmao.

PLEASE read the warnings/tags carefully, and don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t be mad if you scroll away. Do yourself a favor and don’t submit yourself to my bullshit just because of my masochistic ass!!!

WARNINGS/TAGS: (All of them lmao) Nonc*n/Dubc*n, AFAB!Reader, PWP, S*x as punishment, Hatef*cking, Marking, Brain-f*cked, Choking, Rough s*x, Karl insults reader lmao, Slapping, Over*tim(?) (mentioned), I guess you could say Karl is a Yandere in this? (If I missed any warnings don’t hesitate to let me know)

WORDS: 888

Marks.

There are so many marks littered like paint blotches all over your body. Most of them in the shape of big, thick hands. Some others, you don’t even want to look at, for the pain inflicted by them would be something to worry about later.

If there is a later, that is. As much as you’d like to say you know it will be, you can’t be certain anymore.

And you can’t because your eyes are rolled all the way to the back of your skull, your breath is ragged and broken, and your breasts jiggle violently once again for God-knows-how many times tonight. Despite that, the muscles in your lower abdomen seem as strong as ever, tightening harshly around the intrusion of the man that put you in this predicament in the first place.

“Great... I’m always the bad guy, huh?!“, he groaned, with a voice so pissed you don’t think anyone has ever heard it that way before. Not even his worst enemies could drown Karl Heisenberg in a fury half as intense as he’s experienced today. He’s thrusting into you violently, temporarily setting his hands around your throat as his hips piston in and out of you in a rhythmic pace. Choking you seems futile if what he wants is to silence your wails -of pleasure or pain, you don’t know-, because each time he slams against your g-spot, a satisfied groan of his own seems to answer your peaking screams. However, too focused on the punishment and not your pleasure, he refrains from angling his hips against it every time.

“You’re the bitch that runs away, and I get to deal with your fucking attitude because you don’t like it when I punish you?!”

Apparently, something you did earned you another slap to the face. At this point, between the tears and your skin flushed both by the shame and his hands, you must look insanely swollen and red. And yet, that doesn’t seem to stop Karl from digging his fingers with bruising force on your jaw, pressing your cheeks together to force you to look up at him.

“Tell me you’re fucking sorry”.

And you do. Your tears are spilling out, and you beg time and time again for his forgiveness, like a broken record.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!”

Karl shifts his hips, bringing his hands to the fat of yours to adjust them to his liking. With your lower half lifted in the air, supported only by his immense arm strength, his thrust become sloppy and slower; a relief for your pussy that’ll be sore in a couple of hours. Tho, as if he couldn’t deep enough, he was burying himself up to the hilt with each and every thrust, and fuck, does it feel good.

“Now you’re sorry, aren’t you, slut? Why, because you want me to stop?”

Even if you wanted to answer, the way his cock was deliciously dragged between your walls silenced any thought that wasn’t him.

Fuck, did this made you hate yourself. If you didn’t hate him even more, though, you wouldn’t have tried to escape in the first place.

And yet you couldn’t stop the way your guts coiled when he repeatedly hit the most sensitive nerves with the tip of his length; how it stretched you just right to where you’d feel it later and, when you’re alone, miss it plunged deep down your cunt. How his hands knew how to treat you rough but well, how to handle you like fine china and simultaneously use you like a fuck-doll. And now, you couldn’t stop what was coming when his thumb searched between your folds to rub slow, agonizingly slow circles on your clit.

That was the last straw before, once again, you became undone.

“KARL! K-Karl, I’m- N-No! I’m- cumming!”

A gentle wave, a car crash, a kiss from heaven. Your orgasm rocked through you like a shotgun, and yet lulled you into velvety euphoria like the finest of wines. You weren’t even sure if you screamed; but once your mind swam back to shore, bathed by sunlight and yet numb at the limbs, and you came back to yourself, you were still mumbling his name. Whiny and desperate, like the slut he’s forced you to become.

“K-Karl... Ka...rl...!”, you sobbed. His hands cupped the back of your knees to force your legs against your chest. Heisenberg fucked you through your orgasm roughly and nonstop, like a man possessed.

And when panic started to set in that the overstimulation might be too much for you to bear, from his deep, ruthless thrusts to the coarse hair at the base of his member tickling your over-sensitive clit, he suddenly lost control of his breath, and moaned out loud with his dick buried deep inside of you.

You could practically feel his cum spilling down your thighs, his balls and dick pulsating with a well-earned release.

Yet the man didn’t smile, nor smirk, not even looked at your teary eyes and fucked-out face with triumphant eyes. He only pulled your hips against his, cock still filling your quivering hole, as his hot breath fanned over your ear, and his deep, menacing purr echoed in your brain.

“Don’t you dare try to get away from me again...“

A warm kiss to your forehead, and you were pulled into his strong arms for the night.

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x oc #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil reader insert #re8 #re8 reader insert #angi writes filth #I'm sorry for writing this lmao #I just had the image in my head of rough s-x with Karl while he chokes the life out of me and I just had to write it #If anyone reads the tags #No - reader doesn't die #I'm just a masochist with a death wish nothing to worry about

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berrydoodleoo · 2 years

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A sequel to the earlier road trip fic. Gladnis with some Promptis on the side.

Ignis sits on the hood of the Regalia, one ear on Noctis and Prompto’s horseplay as he awaits Gladio’s return, and lets himself think.

Altissia, once a speck in the distance, is looming larger with every passing day. When they set out, they’d been quietly overwhelmed at the prospect of Noctis’ marriage and the changes it would herald for all four of them, but also steadied by the promise of the King’s guidance. Privately, Ignis had envisioned something like Regis’ own trip to Altissia, all those years ago: King Mors safe behind the walls of Insomnia, issuing orders and sending the Crown Prince on impossible mission after impossible mission. He’d even looked forward to the opportunity to spread his wings and see Noctis come into his own, all with the promise that they would return home, eventually, to their sleepless city. The lights, the gleam of glass, the metal towers….

That is no longer an option for them. For Noctis.

Now, Altissia’s myriad possibilities threaten to overwhelm them like Leviathan’s legendary waves, and there is no king to provide safe harbor. A reunion with Lady Lunafreya is all but guaranteed, but what will it entail? Will the marriage still happen? In the past, breaking off royal engagements has led to wars…but then what’s the alternative? Force Noctis into a marriage he doesn’t want? And who will be the one to do the forcing?

Ignis, probably. It usually is.

And speaking of war…what of Niflheim? Will Secretary Claustra lend them her aid, as she refused it to King Regis years ago, or will they be forced to operate in Altissia secretly? And once they have the covenant with Leviathan, what will they do with it? Ifrit is dead, Shiva may be as well, and Bahamut’s center of power is naught other than the Citadel itself. Will they return to Insomnia to receive his blessing?

They aren’t ready to go toe-to-toe with Insomnia’s provisional government. To wage war in the streets of their city. Are they? Open war with the Empire will be greatly unlike the sporadic hit-and-run conflicts they’ve experienced so far.

Is Noctis ready to command armies and send men to die?

Is Ignis?

All he has are questions. At times like this, when he simply lets himself sit and think, he feels that they’re about to rattle out of his skull and come spilling out in a mortifying deluge, a helpless request for reassurance. But the questions need answering, and he can’t ask for help; the others are counting on him. He will have to figure it out on his own.

His attention is briefly diverted as Noctis and Prompto flip over a rock. Cindy had told some story about crawdads earlier, which had led Prompto to declare his desire to catch and eat one, as she had done as a child. Ignis is fairly certain she was trolling them, especially when Noctis and Prompto spot what’s been living under the rock and recoil in horror. Prompto is shrieking, Noctis is laughing, and naturally they trip over each other in their haste and hit the mud with a splash. After Ignis very explicitly told them not to get dirty.

Ignis sighs.

“Noctis!” Prompto howls, “Noctis, protect me!”

Noctis is almost laughing too hard to speak. “This was your idea!” he protests, trying to stand with his arms full of muddy blonde. “This was – these are your crawdads! Stop running—” He tumbles backwards again, laughing.

“Noctis!” Prompto is still shrieking, shoving the prince underwater in his attempts to escape,“it's looking at us oh my gods it's moving run run RUN—”

“It's probably scared by your screaming—”

“Run!”

The back hatch of the Regalia slams shut, and Gladio comes ‘round the front, their final bag of supplies tucked under his arm. “They still at it?” he asks.

“As ever,” Ignis sighs. They watch as the boys attempt to flee and end up dunking each other repeatedly instead. Their so-called ‘escape attempts’ seem to involve a lot of hands everywhere, Ignis notices disparagingly, and despite his protests about being ‘climbed’ Noctis never lets Prompto get too far away. And somehow, every time Prompto trips he ends up directly on top of Noctis, where they have no choice but to roll around and wrestle with each other for a protracted period.

Ridiculous.

Gladio sets the bag aside, deciding to stand and watch with Ignis. “You think they’re ever gonna get some game, or have they peaked?”

Prompto is shoving Noctis underwater and cackling. Noctis twists with a flash of blue magic, and ends up straddling Prompto with his hands pinned above his head. Prompto’s giggles cut off abruptly.

Ignis turns his attention to Gladio, lest he see something he’d really rather not. “I prefer not to speculate.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Besides, you have no room to criticize.”

Gladio crosses his arms. “Now, that’s hurtful. It worked on you, didn’t it?”

Ignis casts a wary eye about their surroundings, but of course no one is nearby to overhear. Habit. “Among others, I’m certain. Those Crownsguard training mats no doubt had stories to tell.”

“C’mon, man.” Gladio nudges him. “No one but you found that whole ‘is that a dagger in your pocket—”

“--or are you just happy to see me’,” Ignis finishes for him, rolling his eyes in painful memory. “Ugh.”

Gladio is laughing at him with nothing but a slow, slow smile and whiskey-warm eyes. “No one but you found that shit funny, Iggy. Those mats only have one story to tell from me.”

Ignis shoots a sharp glance at him from beneath his lashes, touched in spite of himself. “Hormones are to blame, I suppose,” he says. “Certainly I’ve grown more particular in my old age.”

Gladio leans closer. “Have you, now?”

Ignis narrows his eyes. “Try me and find out,” he says. Threatens. Gladio’s gaze dips to the smile curling his lips, shifting closer still—

And then a bloodcurdling shriek startles them apart.

Ignis leaps to his feet, but it’s just Noctis chasing Prompto with one of the crawdads he was so eager to catch earlier. They’ve abandoned all pretense of staying clean or dry, and are deep enough that Prompto is frantically doggy-paddling away from the laughing prince his attempts to escape. Noctis jumps in after him, still holding his prize aloft.

Ignis sighs again. Perhaps the water will wash the mud out?

Gladio had started forward as well, but settles back almost instantly once it’s clear no threat is imminent. They end up side-by-side again, this time in awkward silence. Ignis clasps his hands, crosses his arms, and then lets them fall to his sides. Ridiculous.

Impossible to pick back up where they left off, of course. Especially since they never should have started it in the first place. Ignis clears his throat.

Gladio breaks first, of course. He always does. “‘Spose I shouldn’t have brought all that up,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Iggy.”

Ignis removes and cleans his glasses, an excuse to not look over. “No apology needed,” he says tersely. “I bear half the blame.”

Gladio grunts.

Prompto’s shouting – so amusing moments ago – is now shrill and annoying. Ignis feels himself getting irritated comments and tries to redirect.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says into silence, re-donning his glasses, “about what to do after Altissia.”

Gladio angles a glance his way. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And….?”

“And nothing. I’ve no bloody idea what to do next.” Ignis bites off the end of his comment. So much for that; now he’s annoyed all over again, but for a different reason. Dammit.

“Ah,” Gladio says, in that irritating way that means he finds Ignis endearing. “Well, maybe Lady Luna will have some ideas.”

Despite the slight, lingering awkwardness from their brief flirtation, Ignis is perfectly capable of shooting a needle-eyed glare Gladio’s way. “I refuse to base our military strategy on advice from a foreign princess,” he says haughtily. Gladio rolls his eyes. “In any event, she has no doubt been through enough. It would be unkind to rely upon her too much.”

Gladio can’t argue with that. He relents with a grunt.

“Weskham, then,” he says, after a beat. “He’s been gathering intel in Altissia for thirty years. He’s got to have some ideas.”

“Which presents much the same problem,” Ignis points out, as patiently as possible, which isn’t very. “Can we trust that he will prioritize Lucian interests above Altissian ones, after playing his role for so long? He and the Secretary are rumored to be quite close.”

Gladio grimaces, annoyed now, too. “What’s to prioritize? We’re both occupied countries under Niflheim’s boot. What benefits one benefits the other.”

Now it’s Ignis’ turn to roll his eyes. “How naive.”

Gladio huffs an irritated sigh. “C’mon, Iggy. We don’t need to overthink this. We go to Altissia, pick up the princess, and figure out our next steps from there. You’ve got to admit, it’ll be a relief to have her under our guard at last, even if it does make us a bigger target. She shouldn’t be out there all alone.”

How typical of Gladio, to think about who he could protect instead of the larger strategic picture. Ignis regards him closely for a moment. He doesn’t like being scrutinized – who does? – but he permits it from Ignis, as he always has. There are no signs of duplicity from him; he isn’t being disingenuous on purpose. Naivete it is, then.

“And how do you think that will go?” Ignis asks. “When we ‘pick up the princess’, as you say?”

Gladio scowls. “What’re you on about?”

Ignis flicks an impatient gesture towards the pond. Gladio turns to look, watching Noctis and Prompto stand in the hip-deep water and talk. Their earlier laughter and roughhousing has been replaced by something pensive, and from the corner of his eye Ignis sees the moment that Noctis reaches out to hold Prompto’s hand.

Gladio grimaces. “Yeah, all right. Well….” He looks at Ignis hopefully. “You’ve got a plan for that too, right?”

For a moment, Ignis is tempted to grab a handful of Gladio’s hair and dunk him in the pond as Prompto had dunked Noctis earlier. He actually sees a flash of red, and Gladio takes a little step backwards.

It takes Ignis a beat to un-grit his teeth. “I do not,” he snaps, “have a ‘plan’. I had a plan. The plan was ‘don’t let them get involved’. But you—”

Gladio is rolling his eyes again. “Oh, here we go.”

“--you went behind my back to the King and overruled me. And now here we are.” Ignis flings out a hand towards Noctis and Prompto, now watching the sun set side-by-side. “The King is dead, and Noctis and Prompto have spent the past six months growing even closer, and we have no means to pry them apart.”

Gladio scowls at nothing in particular. “If Noct would do his damn duty, we wouldn’t have to pry anyone anywhere.”

“You and I,” Ignis says heavily, “are in no place to lecture him about this particular duty.”

Gladio bows his head to that, and says nothing.

As quickly as it had risen, Ignis’ temper drains away. He lets himself relent, resting against the Regalia and pretending to watch the sunset. In actuality, he’s watching Noctis and Prompto. At this distance, and with the sun behind them, they’re little more than silhouettes, but he can imagine their conversation well enough. Apologies and promises and reassurances that have no chance of coming true. He and Gladio have floundered their way through their fair share.

“It’s hardly fair to ask Lady Lunafreya to be the third party in her marriage before it has even begun,” Ignis finally murmurs.

“No guarantee there’s still going to be a marriage,” Gladio points out. “Maybe we can just be allies now. Like King Regis and Queen Sylva.”

Ignis sighs. “Would you be allies with the man who scorned your engagement by gallivanting about with his lover for six months? Or would you fall back to the Empire you’ve known your entire life?”

“The empire that killed her mother?” Gladio demands disbelievingly. “C’mon, Iggy. Lady Luna ain’t like that.”

“She’s barely older than Noctis and Prompto,” Ignis reminds him. “She may be exactly like that, if she is wounded enough.”

“She’s older than either of us,” Gladio reminds him in turn. “And she’s been Noct’s friend since they were kids. For all we know he’s told her everything in that notebook of theirs.” He shakes his head. “She’s been doing her duty for years. She’s not gonna be petty and get people killed over hurt feelings.”

“She has been doing her duty alone,” Ignis says tiredly. “Everyone has their breaking point, Gladio. This may be hers.”

Gladio shakes his head again, not responding, just refusing to listen, trying to shake Ignis and his words away like a chocobo brushing away a fly. And Ignis is suddenly just too tired to go on chasing after him, reciting reason and facts, like some prophet foretelling destruction as everyone goes about their day. Or worse, like some needy child spilling questions and uncertainty at the busy, impatient adults.

Gods. Ignis loves his friends more than life itself, but sometimes he could kill them himself. They ignore all of his advice, and then when things go wrong, who do they come running to…? ‘You’ve got a plan for that, right?’ Gladio had said. Ignis is tempted all over again to give him a good dunking.

The silence stretches on. The sun is sinking in earnest now, the air growing chilly. Noctis and Prompto’s silhouettes turn, heading for the shore where Ignis and Gladio are waiting.

“We’ll go to Altissia,” Gladio says quietly. “We’ll find Lady Luna. And we’ll work out the rest then.”

We need a plan, Ignis thinks miserably. We need to evaluate the situation and account for potential issues and work – for once! – to remedy them ahead of time instead of stumbling into them blindly. But Noctis and Prompto, trudging through the water, are no longer holding hands, moving sluggishly and sneaking sad glances at each other. And Gladio is standing with his hands in his pockets, slightly slumped, as if his painted wings are clamped down by invisible weights.

And Ignis is so tired. They haven’t even gotten to Altissia yet, and he’s already so tired. How much more tired can he get?

He suspects he's going to find out.

“Fine,” he says.

Noctis reaches them first. “Fine what?” he asks.

Ignis straightens, arching an eyebrow. “Fine, you’re on laundry duty,” he says. Noctis groans, and before Prompto can start to crow, Ignis adds, “Prompto will help you. If I find a single speck of mud—”

“Ignis,” Noctis whines.

“A single speck,” Ignis repeats, “I shall have both of your heads. Understood?”

“Better watch out,” Gladio says, scooping up the supplies he’d set aside with a grin. “Or it’ll be crawdads for dinner.”

Prompto shudders. Noctis rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he says. “We’ll do the best damn laundry you’ve ever seen. Right, Prom?”

“Uhhhh, right!” Prompto tries to look attentive and mostly manages to look like a drowned chocobo. “You can count on us, Iggy!”

Gladio snorts, leading the way back to camp. Ignis gestures for Prompto and Noctis to go ahead – they dart away, as if he’s about to attack them with laundry soap – and Ignis brings up the rear. For all that he is at the back of the group, he can’t shake the feeling that he is dragging them all along by force of habit, and that they are all keeping to their feet through sheer force of luck.

And what will they do, he wonders, when habit and luck run out?

He supposes they'll find that out, too.

#ffxv #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladnis #promptis #my fic #my art

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snappleapple · 3 years

Text

the bunny vs. the fox

dream x reader

hogwarts au

fluff and angst i suppose

warning - cursing, reader being a small b, simpy dream, underage drinking

word count - 6.8k

a/n: hi again! please enjoy this long boi while i go on another 8 month hiatus lol. also i legit had a heart attack cause i accidentally deleted this but i got it back so phew

the vibrant colors of your uniform stands out amongst the repelling amount of green present within the slytherin common room. you had been invited to the party on behalf of wilbur for their recent quidditch cup win against gryffindor, a game lost because of the carelessness and arrogance of your teammates. along with students from other houses, you stand next to the tall boy you had met when you got onto the train in your first year.

“wilbur, why am i here?” the question lingers in his ear as you point to your current attire of your uniform skirt, an oversized gryffindor sweater you borrowed from sapnap, your thick glasses and messy bed hair from taking a nap after the long game. “y/n? what are you doing here?” you turn your head to glance over at the younger boy, “that’s what i wanna know, tommy.” as you turn around to look at wilbur, another person bumps into you, “hey! watch where you’re going- y/n! what a surprise!” with the roll of your eyes, you dismiss him and reply sarcastically, “glad to see you’re not so shaken up from the recent failure of gryffindor, fundy.” he gives you a shit-eating grin before bouncing away to continue his search for pure alcohol.

as more students enter the already crowded room, a loud cheer begins to form as a boy is lifted into the air. “dream! dream! dream!” the crowd yells at the top of their lungs, which would probably attract a teacher soon, so you begin to sneak out of the room until a loud voice interrupts the cheers, “y/n! leaving the party so soon?” dream taunts with a smirk on his face, everyone’s attention turning towards you. “mind your own business, dream.” you spit out with venom, still bitter about your quidditch loss, as he scoffs and strides towards you, “i guess if you search up sore loser in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of y/n.” he mocks once again while you begin to get riled up from the obnoxious laughter erupting from the crowd. you turn around and begin heading for the door once more before hearing, “come on y/n. no one likes a sore loser.” turning around, you glare at the annoying boy, “come on dream. the only thing worse than a sore loser is a sore winner.” the both of you stare each other down while the whole room stays quiet. dream stands with an unsatisfied smirk on his face as he reaches into his pocket, possibly reaching for his wand. with the slight slip of your fingers and extra progression , you grasp your wand. but before you could fully pull out your wand, you get lifted into the air, over the shoulder of a ravenclaw. “we’ll be seeing you guys later.” he nonchalantly says while walking out of the room, giving you perfect view of dream, with a now satisfied shit-eating grin as he waves at you. you end your interaction with the slytherin with the show of your middle finger.

“techno! why? i could’ve totally won that battle.” the older boy shakes his head as he listens to your whines. “nope. i promised phil that i would keep you out of trouble.” you groan some more before stomping away back to the gryffindor common room, barely sparing a glance at the pink haired boy.

a week passes by and when you’re at breakfast, you lay your head against phil’s shoulder while he munches away on a buttered piece of toast, keeping conversation with fundy. dream hadn’t been bothering as bad as normal but he was still around you. you were a bit confused about his change in behavior but brushed it off, ignoring him and treating him as if he’s on his own menopause situation. twiddling your fingers, boredom begins to strike you in the great breakfast hall. well, once quiet hall, in which the silence is interrupted by the entrance of dream, sapnap and george. you would assume that since they are all from different houses, there would be a tolerance for peace, yet that never seemed like an option with dream. “hello y/n.” he smirks as you turn around to look at him with a stone cold expression. “what do you want?” you say with a scathing tone. ‘“nothing, just came to see how the most competitive person on gryffindor was doing after their recent loss.” with the use of your middle finger, you raise your glasses before giving dream an innocent grin, “i’m feeling good.” the hall goes quieter than it was before as dream sits next to you on the bench. as you leans closer to you, you put your hand under your head and turn your head towards him coyly. “and what do i owe the honor of being able to sit next to the dream? he rolls his eyes as sapnap and george laugh at your shenanigans. “i was just wondering if you would do me the honor of going out to hogsmeade with me?” shaking your head, you barely even glance over at the boy. “no.” dream’s expression remains stoic as he continues to look at you, “come on y/n.” you turn to stand up and leave. raising a stiff hand into the air, you wave to phil and fundy.

but before you could fully exit the great hall, a hand pulls you into the crevice of the walls. he puts his hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying a word. “y/n. please. please go out with me.” shaking your head once again, you give him a cheeky grin. “what will you do for me if i do?” dream pinches his nose bridge, “i’ll do your charms homework for a month.” he persuades with much hesitance. you fully extend your hand out to him and he wraps his large, warm hand around yours. the large grin on your face replicates the one on his face. “next week on saturday, meet me at the bridge to hogsmeade at nine am, sharp! but if you are even a minute late, i’m leaving and you’re still doing my charms homework.” dream closes his eyes and basks in the natural light from the bewitched sky, nodding his head.

the rest of the day, you go throughout your usual classes, occasionally listening to the gossip that spread like wildfire throughout the school. “oh my god, did you hear that l/n is going out with dream tomorrow?” or “i thought they hated each other?” in all honesty, you were beginning to get annoyed from all of the side conversations happening in all classes. luckily, you were in your last class of the day, unluckily, it was with slytherin, specifically dream’s class. a yawn erupts from your mouth as pull out a set of notes to get ready for your class. as the second yawn begins, a hand makes its way to your mouth. you glare at the boy who had already caused way too much mischief for your liking. he gives you a fake grin as he sits next to you. before you can retort to his stupid action, your professor struts into the room, quickly starting his lesson.

throughout most of the class, dream remains quiet, jotting down his notes or dragging his hand through his hair. but towards the end of the class, he leans his head on your shoulder. your body stiffens up as his hand makes its way to your thigh. “you better take your hand off my thigh if you want to keep it.” quiet chuckles erupt from his lips, “can i do this on our date?” you reciprocate soft chuckles, “do you want to die?” the grin on his face get replaced by a pout and puppy dog eyes. “why are you so mean to me?” you continue to scribble down notes, not sparing one glance at the boy, until he grabs your face with both of his hands, “look at me pout, y/n.” and when he turns you face towards him, your professor calls the both of you out. “miss l/n, please take your lovey dovey business outside of class.” your mouth hangs open but before you could protest, dream interrupts you, “will do professor.” his chuckles echo through the room as you slam your head into the table repeatedly until dream puts his hand on the desk, preventing you from bruising your forehead even more. “just let me bash my skull open and die.” dream pats your head, “i can’t have you die before our date.” cringing at his words, you frantically try to remove his hand so you could smash your head into the desk.

later that night at dinner, your face remains a disgusted pout as you imagine your date with dream. while you shudder in disgust, phil taps you out of your daze. “y/n, you really should snap out of it today.” he laughs jokingly along with fundy. your eyes roll as you turn back to your dinner plate full of random things phil stacked on so that you would actually eat dinner. after being forcefully fed one chicken leg and some mashed potatoes, you check the time which read eight twenty five, giving you five minutes to go to the black lake. “oh shit.” you exclaim as you grab all of your items while phil tries to stuff another chicken leg into your mouth. “phi-“ you shut up when the chicken successfully makes it into your mouth. as you sprint out of the hall carrying your school books, robe, wand and other unnecessary items fundy handed to you, your robe decides to slip out unbeknown to you.

when you arrive to the lake, you see him waiting for you already. you toss your items down next to him and sit down next to him. “you’re late. again.” heavy huffs of air erupt from your body as try to catch your breath, still holding the chicken leg phil stuffed into your mouth. “sorr-“ a cough leaves your lips, “sorry. phil was trying to get me to eat dinner.” the boy lets out deep chuckles as he ruffles your hair, “classic phil.” you lean back and balance your weight on the both of your hands as you stare out at the frozen lake. “techno, i don’t get why we have to meet outside in the freezing cold when there is a warm library open to us. i’m cold and i lost my robe on the way here. in a silent flash, a blue accented robe makes its way over into your sight, along with a bare arm. when you turn your head towards the boy, he says away and turns back to the lake, expressionlessly. a small smile erupts on your face as you turn back to the lake, wrapping the robe around your shoulders. before you could mutter a quick thank you, you get cut off, “don’t. lets not talk about this.”

after finishing whatever school work you needed to with techno, you walk back with him into the hallways, coincidentally just as dinner was ending. though you never found out where your robe was, you bump into a tall figure as you make your way through the hall with techno counting the tiles on the floor. a small oomf leaves your lips as the person puts his hands on your shoulders. “who’s robe is that? last time i checked you were in gryffindor, not ravenclaw.” you don’t need to look up to know who you were currently speaking with, “hello dream.” you could hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, “hello y/n. take this off.” dream retorts with a hint of teasing, “no. i’m cold and i lost my robe. so techno let me borrow his.” the other tall boy next to you nods in agreement. “uh no. i don’t like the sight of this.” dream complains with an unsatisfied look on his face before tugging the robe off of your body, throwing it at technoblade and then proceeding to wrap his robe around your body, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “that’s better.” he doesn’t even spare a glance at the older boy as he leads you away while you try to at least say goodbye to technoblade. “bye- dream i swear to god, bye techno!”

while the both of you continue to the gryffindor tower, he doesn’t let his arm on your shoulders falter. “what’s the deal with you and that guy.” you stop in place, turn to look at dream and mime yourself zipping your lips as if you were saying, ‘you get nothing out of me.’ dream rolls his eyes before throwing you over his shoulder and continuing his way over to the common room. “okay this is unnecessary. put me down, i’m wearing a skirt.” lightly hitting his back with your fist. “don’t worry about it, my robe is covering it up.”

at the door of the entrance, the fat lady stares at you in confusion. “can you put me down?” dream lets out a grunt of disagreement, “no. just tell her the password so i can come in and snuggle you.” you take a breath in of anger, “no. i need to finish homework, plus i’m going to see you again tomorrow.” another grunt comes out of the boy before he says the password to your common room, the fat lady begrudgingly letting the both of you in. “what?! you know the password?” he chuckles before setting you down, “of course, sapnap told me. and i come in here all the time to hook up with different gryffindor girls.” your face of disgust makes a wheeze leave his lips, “i’m joking. i finish homework with sapnap in his room, not hook up with girls. i’ll have you know, i haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” you scoff before turning towards your room, “goodnight dream.” but before you can progress any further, he grabs your wrist, “no.” your face scrunches up. staring the boy up and down, another scoff leaves your lips, “what do you mean ‘no’. i’m not giving you an option.” he pouts and opens his arms, “i jus wanna cuddle.” your face scrunches up in disgust once more before you take a step back, “wasn’t it last week when you were being a bitch about my quidditch team.” his arms fall down in realization but the pout remains visible. slightly annoyed but empathetic, you walk over to him, awkwardly wrapping your arms around his waist, patting him on his back gently. while he embraces you back, he leans down to whisper into your ear, “can we cuddle?” you let out groans before letting out a deep sigh, “fine. but you have to promise not to be too grabby, like right now. i did not tell you to grab my butt.” dream sheepishly shys away from you and grabs the hem of shirt while he follows you up the stairs while you try to maneuver him so he can actually make it up the enchanted stairs that only the girl’s dorm.

when you enter your dorm, you’re met by the friendly faces of your roommates. “h-hey guys.” with the motion of their hands, they tell you scoot over to see dream standing behind you with a smirk on his face. before he could walk into the room, you shut the door in his face, wanting to speak in private with your roommates. “don’t tell anyone about this. he was begging to cuddle and would not leave until i agreed. he’ll be gone by midnight tonight and i promise i’ll make sure he’s quiet.” your roommates stare at you before bursting out in laughter, “you’re going soft y/n!” a look of shock rushes over your face before hushing them, “i am not.” they shake their heads in disagreement, making you roll your eyes. when you open the door to let dream back into your room, your roommates pack their homework and walk towards the door. one roommate holds the door open while the other still collects her things, “we’ll be seeing you later y/n. so have fun with dream.” you hide your face in your pillow, embarrassed from their current attitudes about your situation. when they leave, dream sits on your bed while you stand up and walk over to your closet and grab a change of clothes. “just lay on the bed and i’ll be out soon.” dream nods, boredly flipping through a random book he found on your bed.

in the bathroom, you tie your hair in a messy bun, change into some sweatpants and a random oversized t-shirt, you think its either sapnap’s or wilbur’s, take your contacts out and put your glasses on, before proceeding to brush your teeth and exiting the bathroom.

sitting on the edge of your bed, you stare down at dream, hugging your pillow. “y/n, can you replace the pillow?” your expression quickly shifts from a neutral face to a cringing face. you ignore his words, “scoot over.” you say while grabbing the book dream was reading before you came out, opening it and tucking your legs underneath your comforter. another sigh leaves your lips as you tap the top of your thighs twice, letting dream know that he can lay his head onto your legs, in which he gladly does. about thirty minutes pass and your hand drags itself through his hair, occasionally leaving to flip the page of your book. you stay super into your book until dream speaks up, “y/n.” you let out a mhm of acknowledgement, letting him know you’re listening. “i don’t want to cuddle your legs, i want to cuddle you.” a small okay is heard from you as you put the book on your dresser, tucking yourself into your bed. your back faces away from dream. a shiver rolls down your spine as he wraps his arms around your waist, resulting in him breathing down your neck. goosebumps arise on your body. in the awkward silence of the room, the only things you can hear are the loud thumps of your heart and the even breaths from dream.

when you wake up the next morning, you move your arms to stretch them, but fail to do so in the embrace of dream. staring at his peaceful face, free of any frowns he had shown last night, you brush his bangs out of his eyes. with a glance at the seeping sunlight, you slowly slip out of his embrace, walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day. before you exit the room, you glance over at the sleeping boy on your bed. you roll your eyes before walking over to his side and sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently caressing his messy hair. he stirs in his sleep for a few seconds and as he opens his eyes. the first things he sees is you before pulling you towards his chest with you going down with a yelp. “dream!” he nuzzles his head into your neck, mumbling something incoherent. “say that again?” he mumbles some more, “i don’t know what you’re saying.” you chuckle in-between each word, he moves his head away from your neck, “i said you smell good.” dream stretches as you pull away from him, walking over to the door leading to the common room. “go clean yourself up and come to breakfast.” dream sluggishly drags himself out of your bed before grabbing his robe and your wrist, proceeding to drag you towards the door, the stairs turning into a slide underneath him while you wait for the stairs to turn back, laughing loudly at him. at the bottom of the stairs, you meet the friendly faces of phil, fundy and sapnap.

“y/n, why was dream in your room last night?” phil asks just a bit sarcastic but with a joyful smile on his face. sapnap’s face morphs into a smirk as his eyes move from your figure to dream’s and then back to yours. “you,” he says while staring at you before turning to dream on the floor, “and you.” sapnap then proceeds to make kissy faces earning a smack from you and a chuckle from dream, earning dream a smack from you as well. “dream is leaving anyways.” you say while pushing him out of your common room. phil, fundy, sapnap, you and dream make your way down the hall, “dream. go to your room and change.” he pouts once again before wrapping his hand around yours. once phil notices, he walks between the both of you, separating you and dream, making you stand on either side of him. when you glance up at phil, he just gives you his signature kind smile before turning back to his conversation with fundy. before you notice, dream had disappeared to god knows where, you get pulled behind a pillar, not being noticed from the three of your friends. “shh, y/n.” his hand covers your mouth until he lets go, “dream! what was the point of this, we were with each other like five minutes ago.” he ignores your words and drags you towards the slytherin common room, finishing what he started earlier by holding your hand.

while you wait for dream to finish getting ready in his room, you sit in the common room, greeted by the not so friendly faces of other slytherins, disregarding wilbur sitting at your side, telling you about the dragon he was raising in the dark forest. when dream comes back out, the color of your uniform stands out so brightly in the dark green room. wilbur sits next to you with his beanie on. “wilbur, aren’t you tired? you have black circles under your eyes.” he shakes his head with optimism, “it’s for the aesthetic. don’t worry about them. oh hello dream!” your eyes shift from wilbur to dream. dream leads you out of the common room as the both of you walk down the quiet and empty halls towards breakfast. dream wraps his robe around your shoulders, “i know you get cold easily.” you look up at him with a small smile engulfed by sadness, “thanks.”

as you walk down the long hallway, you finally feel the courage to speak up. “dream,” you pause waiting for a response from the tall boy. he lets out a hum to let you know he’s listening, “why are you doing this?” the question slips from your lips with doubt and concern. “doing what?” dream answers back with his own question. “well for one,” you pause once again with uncertainty, “pretending to like me. just a week ago, you were being a jerk to me and all of a sudden, you just begin to pursue me. and i want to know why.” dream stops in place while you continue by yourself, “what do you mean pretend to like you? i do like you.” now it was your turn to stop, “no you don’t. you can’t just begin to like someone all of a sudden. nothing works like that. so, i’m going to ask you something and i want you to answer sincerely, okay?” dream’s face falls into a guilty expression as he stares at the floor, “how much?” you maintain the soft expression on your face while continuing to gaze at the tall boy, “fifteen galleons.” a tiny huff of air leaves your lips as you a soft small appears on your face in slight disbelief, eyes slightly tearing up. you walk away for a while before speaking once again, “i hope it was worth it.” you take off his robe and drop it on the floor as you walk away from him.

as you enter the great hall for breakfast, you sit next to phil quietly. with a small eye smile, you tell phil that you’re not that hungry and just take a sip out of your tea. “so , y/n. you and dream huh?” sapnap teases, “there’s nothing between us.” your cold tone resonates throughout the gryffindor table, “woah, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” he teases as the other boys around you laugh. angered, you stand up and grab his collar, pulling him towards you over the table, “i said there’s nothing. so fuck off and mind your own business.” your empty hand crunches up, turning your fist white. phil abruptly stands up and gently puts his hand on your shoulder as a signal to tell you to calm down. you could feel all eyes on you but could honestly care less. releasing his collar, the boy looks at you after being scolded by phil for butting into a girl’s business. “i’m sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to that insensitive.” you snap out of your rage induced glare and decide to mutter a small apology as well before walking out of the hall.

“y/n!” another glare arises on your face at you look at the culprit that made you angry. “i’m sorry for the bet, but i was just using that as an excuse because i kept denying the fact that i like you.” dream attempts to grab your hand like he did earlier that day but you snatch your hand away. “don’t bother lying now because i didn’t even believe you earlier.” your reply marked with extreme sarcasm. you turn around to stomp towards your common room once again. “y/n, please. what will it take for you to realize that i actually like you.” with a glance over your shoulder, you look at dream one last time, “leave me the fuck alone.”

as the week passed, it was the day of your date with dream. you stayed in your dorm for most of the day, eventually going out to eat at meal times. dream waited for you at the bridge that leads to hogsmeade for hours until finally leaving when sapnap came to tell him that you weren’t coming.

on the day of your quidditch game with ravenclaw, you lay in bed, staring at the spot dream had once been in with you. you’ve seen dream around but never even glanced towards him, isolating yourself quietly with your small group of friends. dream, for the most part, left you alone besides the points where he hangs out with sapnap in the gryffindor common room. you rarely spoke and only did when it was necessary. before you realize, you’re in the shower room, getting dressed in your uniform. sapnap leads you towards the field and your team flies onto the field. technoblade flies up towards you in attempt to speak to you for the first time that week. “hey munchkin. how’s it going.” you drag your hands through your hair, messing it up after phil had worked so hard to keep it neat. “dream told me he liked me. but his antics started after i confronted him about his bet.” techno’s eyes soften as he ruffles your hair, “i don’t want to sour your mood even more, but he’s sitting in gryffindor stands right now. just for your own information.” you roll your eyes and fly over to your side, bat in hand. the huffs of your breaths could be seen in the snowy weather of winter.

for most of the game, you played extremely aggressive. you nearly hit sapnap once and actually hit fundy while ravenclaw scored over and over again. “y/n! get down here!” you hear the rough voice of your quidditch captain call, “what’s wrong with you l/n? you never play this recklessly. sit out this game, we can have someone else sub for you.” dream watches you from the stands. you stare at your captain in disbelief before nodding and walking off the field.

walking down the hallways, dream follows you with silent steps in order to not attract any unwanted attention. “what do you want dream?” you ask without turning around to look at the boy. “y/n,” before he can finishes, he pauses, allowing time for you to interrupt, “i asked for what you wanted, not my name.” you let out the sarcastic and sappy reply. “y/n, i’m sorry i put you in such a shitty situation and because of that, inevitably hurt our relationship. the stupid relationship that makes me smile every time i think about you or when someone mentions your name.” dream walks towards you with caution while also watching your reaction. once he realizes that you’re okay with his presence, he pulls you into his embrace. your face gets buried into his chest. “i hate you. i hate that you made me believe you loved me. i hate that i like you despite you being an ass. i hate that we have an unspoken rivalry. i hate how you make butterflies appear with any spoken word and how you’re a touchy person that needs to hold my hand wherever we go.” dream’s chuckles echo in the hall along with his body. “i didn’t know you hated me so much.” you push away from him with a small smirk on your face, “i do. you just have a punchable face.” dream lets out an exaggerated gasp as he holds his hand over his heart, “i’m offended.” he pouts once again, a smile expanding on his face.

“but will you officially do me the honor of going out on a date with me on tomorrow? no bets, no money, nothing. just a boy in love.” you cringe at first then pretend to think about it for a while before finally making eye contact with him, “no.” his smile doesn’t falter, “okay then, i’ll see you at the bridge at nine thirty.” you raise your eyebrows in confusion as the boy walks three steps ahead of you, “come on y/n.” he taunts as if you are a dog. with the roll of your eyes, you skip up towards him and he wraps one of his arms around your shoulder. “you’re not busy right now, are you?” a small laugh leaves your lips as you stare at the tall boy, “well, i just kicked out of my quidditch game, so no? but then again, i’m sort of sweaty so i might need to take a shower.” he ignores you once again and continues walking towards your dorm. as he begins to sound out the password, you cut him off. “look dream, i like you okay?” dream nods with a sly smirk, “but not enough for you to come in.” patting him on his back, you tell the lady the password and walk into the common room. his smirk falters as you leave him standing outside the common room door. dream’s eyes stay on you until he fat lady closes the portrait door. “rejected!” she sings before dream walks away with the roll of his eyes.

the next day at around nine twenty, you walk up from your bed. “oh my god!” you yell checking the time. running to your bathroom, you turn the your sink on quickly, brushing your teeth and your hair before running out to go change. at nine twenty five, you run down the busy halls, occasionally bumping shoulders with some random people. “y/n? where are you going?” fundy asks while watching you run. you stop briefly, “date. dream. waiting. late.” breathing out each word slowly due to your lack of breath. as you begin to start running again, phil and fundy watch you receding figure. by nine thirty two, you make it to the entrance of the bridge, seeing dream standing there with a small smile on his face. “you’re late.” you let out coughs and heave out heavy breaths before speaking again. “sorry. i woke up later than expected.” while you try to catch your breath, dream stares at you lovingly before getting a mischievous glint in his eyes, “am i that breathtaking y/n?” a frown appears on your face before you begin to walk back towards the castle, “no, y/n. i was kidding.”he chuckles as he grabs your hand, the warmth from his hand immediately seeping into your cold hand.

after walking around for a while hearing the crisp crunch of the snow, dream’s hand remains in yours. to be honest, he hasn’t even let your hand go since the beginning of your date. while you were at honeydukes, he held your hand, at dervish and banges, he held your hand, scrivencraft’s, dream. hand. your. hand. he would constantly whine whenever you tried to let go and if you did, he would opt to putting an arm over your shoulder. you walk around with dream until finally reaching the three broomsticks.

you tell dream to get the two of you a table while you go to order drinks. while you wait to pick up the drinks at the counter, you turn around to see dream with a posse full of girls around the tiny table. with the role of your eyes, you dismiss his cocky attitude and turn back towards the lady making your drinks. “is that the boy you came in with?” you life your head off of your palm and look up at the older lady, “yes ma’am.” loud giggles could be heard from behind you as you continue to ignore them, your clenched fist turning slightly whiter by the minute. the older lady looks down at you with sympathy, “you’re jealous.” taken aback from her absurd comment, you look at her with disbelief and large eyes. “jealous? jealous of that?” you say while turning around to point at dream and the girls basically hanging off of his body. “there’s a certain amount of pride a lady can hold herself to and there is no way i’m stooping down that low. sure, call me jealous if you want, but don’t compare me to that mess over there.” you slam down one galleon and walk away from the counter and out the door. dream watches your whole interaction happen and abrubtly stands up after watching you exit the pub. “sorry ladies, but my girl needs some tending to.” he walks out, ignoring the symphony of pleads.

“stupid. stupid. how could i have gotten so mad. she was just making an observation.” you murmur to yourself, feeling apologetic to the older lady who was just as surprised as you after you went off on your tangent. you sit on a bench, which overlooking the mountains near the school. you hit your head with the palm of your hand continuously until a warm hand stop you. “why’d you run away bunny?” you slip your wrist out of his grasp, “not run. walked. and it was because of something that happened to me and the waitress. she may or may not have said something i disagreed with and i may or may not have gone off about it at her.” dream sits down next to you, leaving no space in-between the both of you despite the bench being able to seat four people. “oh bunny-“ once again annoyed, you interrupt him, “why are you calling me bunny?” he chuckles as he watches you stand up to walk off, “because,” dream reciprocates your action and stands up as well, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you into his chest. “despite you being in gryffindor, you’re like a cute bunny to me. you’re the smartest person i know and love being around people. despite those traits, you are also bratty, willful and vengeful. it takes a certain person to deal with me and you work with me. we’re like the modern life lady and the tramp.” hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist.

“now bunny, what did the lady say to you?” you let out a small murmur of no before pulling away from him. “you don’t need to know.” a mischievous smile erupts on his face, “but i want to know.” you shake your head in response, “but you don’t need to.” with a slight side step, you stare up at the boy. “bunny.” he replies sternly, “if you don’t reply in five seconds, something bad is going to happen to you.” he uses his fingers count down to zero, “five, four, three,” in the meantime, you begin to run away from the boy, “get away from me!” you yell as you try to the reach the sanctuary of the presence of other students. before you could, you get tackled to the ground, “i asked you nicely y/n.” a second before you could repent, he begins to tickle you. “no. i’m sorry. i’ll tell you.” you wheeze out, “its too late bunny.” he continues to tickle you for what feels like hours, on the cold snow on the ground, until he gets tackled off of you, “get off of her!” you sit up to see fundy on top of dream, pinning his hands down while sapnap grabs dreams legs. their interrogation of dream gets interrupted by your laughs. their attention gets turned towards you, “you dunces. he wasn’t attacking me, he was tickling me.” fundy and sapnap’s faces turns into a surprised look as they turn to look at each other before looking back at you and getting off of dream. “my bad bro. we didn’t know.” sapnap replies as he and fundy scurry off to the safety of philza.

you stare at dream with an amused smirk as he continues to lay on the ground, pouting at the sudden interaction. you reach your hand down to help him up, “why couldn’t you make friends with hot girls that would tackle me.” before he could grab your hand, you pull it back and walk away, teasing him. “wait y/n, are you actually offended from what i said?” dream stands up and jogs over towards you, “cause i love that you have friends in general.” your face scrunches up as you stare him, “okay, fox.” now it was time for his face to scrunch up, “what did you just call me.” he says, not stating it as a question but rather a statement. “i called you fox.” his eyesbrows raise in confusion, “i’m bunny and you’re fox.” dream stares at you before grabbing your hand and walking towards the castle, “okay, i’ll be fox if you’re bunny.” smiles erupt on both of your faces as you continue to joke around on your trip towards the castle.

the first time you say i love you back to dream is from the day he pouted the entire night and while also hiding from you in the safety of his room. “beau, what’s wrong with you today?” when he finally looks up at you, he tries to keep a stern expression, but it falls into a smile as he pulls you close to him. “why don’t you ever say i love you back?” small chuckles erupt from your body as you play with his dirty blonde hair, “because i thought you knew how much i loved you. but if you need confirmation, you could’ve just told me.” he groans in slight embarrassment, “i love you so much to the point that i would do anything you ask me to. i would even kill sapnap for you.” now it was dream’s turn to chuckle, “thank you y/n. i love you too.” for the rest of the night, he didn’t let you go, meaning, you had to sneak back into your common room at four in the morning, hiding from the watchful gaze of philza.

about five months pass, and your relationship with dream prospers. at any quidditch game, you or him would be spotted in the crowd, or actually versing each other. in that case, he would stay so close to you, occasionally throwing around flirty comments at you or basically handing you the bludger. other times, when you study in the library with techno or phil, he always sits in the corner of the library with george, never being secretive. “what george? say that again.” leaving you to ignore him. whenever parties occur, you always try to walk around and mingle while he attaches himself to your side, greeting everyone you talk to. when he gets deadbeat drunk, he becomes clingy times one million, “y/n, don’t leave me.” and you reply, ‘this is my room.” cries and loves to snuggles into your neck when you come back a minute later. you’re not gonna lie but man is in lsg, little spoon gang. he loves being little spoon when he’s drunk but sober dream is another story. always has to be big spoon to keep his reputation up and has absolutely no recollection of being little spoon, so its your little secret with drunk dream. when you do your homework, he lays on your bed, usually taking a nap despite his eight page essay being due the next day. weekly hogsmeade dates, will literally buy you anything you set your eyes on, not even caring about the price. sometimes you wonder where that money even comes from. in total, will chase you down nonstop while you run away from his antics.

your relationship is well known around the school as the complex bunny and the sly fox.

philza still doesn’t approve though.

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat.

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave.

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy.

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered.

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised.

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay.

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin.

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently.

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly.

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.”

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.”

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint.

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au #starwars

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Casual Ruin Pt. 3 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series.

Part 1 | Part 2

God help yall this shit was a rollercoaster to write

________________________________________________

~Elain~

For a second, no one breathes, let alone moves.

Azriel’s hands are steady as he grips the gun, body lined with tension, eyes so cold I shiver. The barrel’s close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, it’d brush my forehead.

The man next to him holds a cigarette halfway to his mouth, looking at me like he’s never seen a woman before and has absolutely no idea what to do.

And me? I’m frozen in place, horror rushing through my veins and mixing with the shock to create a nauseating cocktail I’m not sure I’ll survive.

It’s the brutalized man in the chair slumping over and hitting the floor with a loud thud that finally snaps us out of our momentary haze.

Azriel blinks and throws the gun to the side so hard it makes a dent in the wall, the stranger drops his cigarette and reaches for me, and I sprint like my fucking life depends on it. Because at this point, I’m pretty sure it might.

What the hell did I walk into?

I race up the stairs toward the garage, where less than a minute ago, I’d heard Azriel’s voice and gone to surprise him. By the look on his face when he turned around, I’d at least succeeded in that.

I can practically feel the man behind me, can tell he’s reaching a hand out to grab me.

I’ve never been a violent person in my life, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me, I don’t even question the urge to use the wine bottle in my hands as a weapon.

It breaks over the man’s head, but unlike in the movies, he doesn’t go down immediately. However, he does lose his balance enough that with a firm shove to his chest, he goes crashing back down to the hellhole I’m running from.

I make it to the garage and slam the door to the basement closed, locking it for good measure. Then I drag the heavy workbench next to the line of pristine cars over in front of it for even better measure.

I refuse to let myself stop and think, because I’m pretty sure if I do, I’ll break down into a pool of tears and never get up. I’m running on nothing but adrenaline, and I know I’ll crash soon, but I force myself to keep going.

For a moment, I’m tempted to steal one of the cars to get away, but the sound of angry Italian shouts behind the locked door makes me hesitant to waste any more time.

I also definitely don’t have time to call the cab driver that dropped me off and beg him to come back.

The fear and terror don’t give me time to doubt myself as I take my heels off, take off up the driveway, and pray I’m fast enough to escape the devil on my trail.

~Azriel~

“Get that goddamn door open,” I shout at Luca, who’s dripping wine all over the place and has a gash on his forehead from where little Elain Archeron shoved him down the stairs.

I almost fucking shot her in the head. Her.

Dolcezza mia. The girl I’m stupidly obsessed with. The one who’s always quick to smile--the same one who sighs when I kiss her and lights up when I walk into the room.

I almost shot her between those beautiful brown eyes, almost snuffed them out forever.

I run a hand over my face, listening to the sound of Luca throwing himself into the door repeatedly. “I’m trying, boss, but I think she pulled something in front of the door.”

Smart.

Fucking annoying as hell, but smart.

If I wasn’t so damn pissed at myself for not locking the basement door behind me and allowing her to find us down here, I’d be mildly impressed.

Two of the most dangerous men in Italy, trapped in the basement like idiots.

I pull up the app to track her phone--which was originally for her safety, not because I’m a complete stalker--and see that she’s on foot, going behind the houses instead of down the road. She probably thinks I’ll drive by her while she gets away right under my nose.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sending out a text to all my neighbors to tell them not to shoot the beautiful young woman trespassing through their properties. She has no idea the people around us have security systems better than the President’s. “Luca!”

“Working on it,” he grunts back.

“If that shit isn’t open in the next twenty seconds, you’re going in the incinerator after this asshole,” I warn, nudging the dead body on the floor with a boot.

The threat must work, because a second later, there’s a loud bang and the telltale sound of the workbench from my garage toppling over. “Got it!”

I storm up the stairs and tell him, “Run interference with the neighbors and local police. Anyone talks-”

“Got it,” he interrupts, grabbing his phone to start threatening people.

Pulling up the app again, I track the path she’s on, curse when I see she’s headed to the bus station about a mile from here, and take off after her.

Technically, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she got away. She’d probably go to the police and tell them what she saw, not knowing that Marco, the deputy on duty, has been on my payroll since the day he passed the police entrance exam.

Having done her civic duty, she’d probably try to recover from the trauma of what she saw, eventually finish her classes and move on, and leave. Forgetting all about me in the process.

Technically, for her, this option would not be the worst thing in the world.

But in my head, it feels worse than being stabbed. In my head, there isn’t a question about it.

I’m going after her.

There’s this weird, itchy feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before as I run and run and try not to think about the look on her face as she saw the body fall to the floor.

I realize the feeling in my chest as panic, something I haven’t felt since I was a teenager getting booked for stealing my first car.

She knows.

She knows, and the look on her face... she looked at me like I’m a monster.

And fuck, maybe that’s true. Maybe I am beyond saving.

But having her look at me, and having her take away the easy smiles and bright eyes I’d grown strangely accustomed to... it feels like being robbed.

And it makes me panic.

So I’ll chase her, and catch her, and do whatever I have to do to get her back.

Because I need her, and damn if I’m going at this alone.

After a surprising amount of time, I see the thin outline of her off in the distance, sprinting like the devil himself is chasing her.

I take a deep breath and try to stay quiet, but it’s hopeless. Like she’s the one with the tracker on me, she can tell the second I’m close. I can see it from the way her shoulders go stiff and her pace increases.

“Elain!”

I call out again for her to stop, because I don’t want to tackle her and risk hurting her. She ignores me and keeps running, turning behind the coroner of one of my dealer’s house.

That sticky, awful, panicky feeling in my chest grows as she disappears from sight, and without thinking, I follow.

Which, if I had been thinking, I never would’ve done, because shit like this leaves you open to attack.

Which reminds me: I’ve now broken all three rules for this woman, because I don’t have a single weapon on me to defend us if something happens.

I hit the ground hard enough the wind rushes out of me and my stupid brain rattles around in my stupid skull.

Blinking through the blur, I look up to find Elain standing over me with an empty metal trashcan raised like a bat, ready to strike again.

I need to explain, need to talk to her, but all I can seem to say is her name.

“Elain,” I croak, trying to force air down my lungs.

As my vision clears, I notice she’s crying, beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt.

She pauses and looks at me, like the sight of me knocked on my ass hurts her just as much as it does me, then shakes her head to clear it.

She throws the trash can at me and turns to flee, but I know I can’t let her go, at least not like this. Grabbing her ankle, I yank her down to me, making sure she lands on me instead of the ground.

She screams, the sound scraping away another layer of the trust we’d built, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate in my life. Elain flails around, but I use my weight to pin her, trying not to hurt her.

She has to let me explain. She has to.

I hate what I’m about to do, but the only other option I have is making her pass out the old fashion way, which I know I could never bring myself to do.

The second the needle goes into her neck, she goes stiff underneath me, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes.

“You drugged me,” she sobs, the betrayal in her voice making my chest hurt.

I brush the hair off her face, press my forehead to hers, and start telling her things I haven’t told another living soul.

I’ll never hurt you.

I’m sorry.

~Elain~

Am I dead?

Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?

Where am I?

These three questions rattle around in my brain at the same time, all demanding answers, as soon as I open my eyes.

And the weird part is... I don’t have any.

I have no idea if I’m alive or dead, but the headache I have that seems permanently settled behind my eyes points to the latter.

I blink the haze in my brain away and realize I’m at my house in bed, but my extend of knowledge seems to stop there.

There’s a voice in my head whispering something, but it’s too quiet for me to understand what she’s saying. All I know is that I feel like I need to do something, need to get out of here.

I rub my sore eyes and see there’s a note on the bedside table, written in precise, calm handwriting I recognize better than my own.

Come downstairs.

He’s here? I thought I went to his house, not the other way around.

The blinds are closed, but when I make my way to the window and peak out, I see a dark night sky, the moon reflecting off the water and making everything seen calm.

What the hell happened to me?

I start to leave the room, intent on going downstairs and asking Azriel that very question.

Except as I’m passing by my closet, I see something.

Something small and so inconsequential, I almost don’t think anything about it.

Like I’m in a dream, I feel myself walk over to the corner of the room. I feel my knees hit the floor, see my finger extend to the floor and touch the tiny drop of liquid that caught my eye.

I pull back and look, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see that it’s blood.

The floors are dark enough I shouldn’t have been able to see it from so far away, but it’s like a part of me was looking for it.

And that’s when it comes back to me.

Coming to surprise him, seeing the door in his garage, going downstairs... I press a hand to my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the tidal wave of nausea washing over me.

I remember seeing the blood first and wondering if someone was hurt, then coming further into the room to find myself in the middle of a nightmare. If I wasn’t so strangely sure it had been real, I would think it was a horror movie.

The man strapped down had been so brutalized, I doubt I would’ve recognized him even if I’d known him my whole life.

I remember running without a thought more, giving into the fight or flight impulse to get the hell out of there.

I remember hitting Azriel, seeing him fall to the ground and looking up at me with those deep, wounded eyes that will haunt me more than the torture he inflicted on that poor man.

Eyes that told me everything and nothing at the same time.

I remember looking into those eyes and crying at the pain in them that was surely reflected in my own.

And then nothing.

Why don’t I remember? How did I get back here?

I’m sorry.

I finally recall that last whispered promise, and if I hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen to my knees as I realize what happened.

He drugged me.

Azriel, the same man who slow-danced with me in an empty restaurant and drove me along the coast and held me in his sleep, drugged me.

And he’s downstairs.

I start to hyperventilate, because I don’t know what to do or what he’s planning to do. Why is he still here?

What am I going to do? Should I call the cops?

I realize I don’t have my phone, probably a countermeasure on his part.

I also realize there’s no way for me to run. I remember how fast he’d caught me, how easy it had been for him to render me useless.

There’s no escaping him. Not if he’s already down there waiting, evil plan cooking in his mind.

I have no other option, unless I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life.

So with confidence I don’t feel, I walk downstairs.

I find him sitting at my breakfast table, leaning back casually and sipping a cup of coffee despite the late hour.

The moonlight clings to him like it loves him, playing off of his sharp cheekbones and illuminating his features. His face is carefully blank, but there’s a flicker of something as he looks at me, something that seems almost like relief.

He’s calm and collected and everything I’m not, and it pisses me off. My world’s on fire, yet he’s sitting here like nothing’s wrong? And he’s drinking my coffee?

I stomp over to grab the stolen drink, then sit across from him and cross my arms.

And wait.

Because I sure as hell am not talking first.

He stayed because he has something to say. I don’t have anything to say to him.

For a long time, we just stare at each other, because he’s apparently playing by the same rules.

Then he accepts his defeat, sighs, and asks, “Why did you come to my house last night?”

I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and try to stop myself from throwing the coffee in his face.

Because he said that almost like an accusation.

Like the problem is that I came over unannounced, not that he was torturing someone.

“I’m not justifying that with a response,” I eventually tell him.

He gives me a hard look. “Answer the question.”

Something about the entirely male way he demanded that, like he expects a response immediately, makes me tilt my head and ask so sweetly I almost choke, “Why? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, showing the first sign of imperfection I’ve ever seen from him. “What you saw-”

“Was horrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He acts like I didn’t even speak. “-was something I meant to keep private from you.”

I don’t tell him that’s pretty fucking obvious at this point.

Instead I ask, “Why?”

I’m not sure why I want to know, but it suddenly feels important.

He doesn’t takes his eyes off of me as he says, “Because you’re you. You shine so brightly it should be illegal, and you look at the world like it isn’t a terrible place. I didn’t want to take that from you.”

My throat feels uncomfortably tight all the sudden, but I clear it and say, “Well, you did.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks down. “I know. If I could go back and walk away, I would. Shit, I told myself I would more times than I can count. But I just... couldn’t. And I couldn’t tell you either. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, Elain.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart finally start beating again, but I still call him on his lie. “That isn’t why you never told me. You never told me because you knew I’d hate you the second you did.”

“Maybe,” he admits, looking back up at me. “But now you know, and I’m glad you do. You know everything now.”

It’s my turn to look down, because while I’d wanted to know the real him, I’d never imagined I’d find something like this.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything, because you haven’t explained anything.”

He tilts his head. “What needs explaining?”

I ask the obvious question. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself.”

Once again, I don’t feel like justifying that with a response. He still isn’t saying anything that explains what I saw or why he’d do that to someone.

If he isn’t going to say anything meaningful, I’m not having this conversation.

Eventually, he seems to realize this. Because he says, “I’m Capo of the Sicilian Outfit of the Cosa Nostra, Elain.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t know how to feel, other than confused and angry.

“Any other questions?”

“Why did you drug me?”

If he just wanted to talk, he could’ve dragged me back to his place or maybe just say that. Not chase me down like a rapid animal.

“You were panicked, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I needed time to explain, needed to tell you this was never the plan.”

There’s something else there, and I narrow my eyes in a silent demand for him to continue.

Azriel sighs and admits, “My neighbors are business associates-” aka fellow criminals, “and I didn’t want them to hear you yelling and come to... investigate-” aka kill me, “or watch me get knocked unconscious by a twenty-four year old woman with a trash can.”

I give him a smug smile, more than ready to give him a repeat of that show, and try to decide what else to ask.

But before I get the chance, he says, “I don’t see why this changes anything.”

My mouth falls open.

He doesn’t see- is he serious? “You’re joking.”

“I’m not known for my humor.”

I’m still stunned into silence, so he tilts his head and asks, “Why does it matter? Why does what I do make me a different person?”

When I don’t answer, he says, “It doesn’t. Nothing I do will ever come near you. You won’t ever have to see it again. I promise.”

“It’s not about seeing it! It’s about knowing what you do when we’re not together. You kiss me goodbye, then go home and... there is absolutely no way I can go back to what we were doing before. You killed someone, Azriel.”

He straightens his cufflinks and shoots back, “He deserved it, Elain.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“First off, murder is illegal. So is torture, which from the way that man looked, you’d definitely been inflicting on him. Not only is it illegal, it’s wrong! He was an innocent human being-”

“He wasn’t innocent.”

I keep going. “You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner! You-”

He’s on me before I can finish, sliding a hand over my mouth and leaning over my chair.

God, the man is fast. Has he always been that fast, or have I just never noticed?

“Let me explain something to you, Elain. On this island, I am. I decide who’s guilty, which he confessed to being. I decide the punishment, which was a bullet to the brain. I’m the executioner, and I pull the trigger myself, because I’m not a fucking coward.”

I fight his hold, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t even budge.

“I play by different rules, bellissima. Just because you’ve never been exposed to them, or my world, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always existed. I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the goddamn king.”

A shiver goes down my spine at his words.

He pushes my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head, bite his finger, push at his chest. But it doesn’t do any good.

“It doesn’t matter, because like I said, we live in two different worlds. I’d never let mine impact yours.”

I want to tell him that isn’t the problem, but his hand is still on my mouth.

“Have you even asked yourself why you’re not afraid?” he asks out of the blue, surprising me.

I stare blankly at him, no longer fighting, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“You’re scared of what I do, but you aren’t scared of me. Not really. If you were, you never would’ve come down those stairs.”

That’s why he looked relieved, I realize. He was worried I’d be scared of him.

Everything he’s saying makes sense, which makes no sense at all.

Because if he’s right, and he certainly seems to think he is, it begs the question... why aren’t I scared of him?

He seems to see my ask myself that, because he answers it a second later.

Eyes growing softer, he murmurs, “It’s because you know I’d never hurt you, nor would I let anyone else.”

I remember him whispering that right before I passed out. I’ll never hurt you.

He comes so close I can see the individual flecks of green in his dark hazel eyes. “I may do terrible things, and I’d do terrible things for you, Elain, but I’d never do them to you.”

“So you aren’t afraid. Just angry,” he concludes. Then he looks at me like he did the other day in the sea behind his house, right before he called me his. “Do you know why you’re angry, Elain?”

Currently, it’s because he’s explaining my emotions to me, which has to be the most male, obnoxious thing that’s ever happened in all of history.

But I have a feeling that isn’t what he’s talking about.

And I have another feeling that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

I take another glance at the look in his eyes and realize what he means, starting to fight again. I push at his chest and hands and try to get him to not say the words I know he’s going to.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re upset,” he says a moment later, slow and sure like always, “because I lied to you. You feel betrayed, like you don’t know me. But that isn’t why you’re angry.”

One hand on my face, the other in my hair, he holds me perfectly still as he whispers, “You’re angry because you were falling for me.”

I press my eyes closed, trying not to hear the words he’s saying as if that’ll make them any less true.

But it doesn’t, because they are true.

Every easy smile, midnight whisper, and lingering kiss he’s given me in the past month has given him a permanent place in my heart, and it hurts to have that all feel like a lie.

It hurts to look at him and not know if I recognize the person holding me.

A sob escapes me, which seems to confirm what he said, and he takes his hand off my mouth to wipe away a tear.

His brow comes to rest against mine, and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself.

There’s a war happening inside me, and it distracts me enough I don’t stop him from pulling me closer.

My heart plays me a montage of the past month, showing me countless moments where I’d been so positive I’d found paradise, so positive I’d found someone I could trust completely. It tells me Azriel has always felt like home, like something so inexplicably right I don’t even know how to describe it.

But my brain reminds me the hands cupping my cheeks softly are covered in blood and gunsmoke and victims’ tears. It tells me I’ve never really known the man I’m currently begging myself not to have feelings for.

The battle inside of me rages on, and I cry harder, not even knowing who I want to win.

It only gets harder to choose as he murmurs, “Ance io mi sto innamorando di te.”

I’m falling for you, too.

I don’t know what to do or feel or think, and I’m so helplessly confused it makes me want to scream.

Yet even though I’m confused, something about this makes sense. Something about knowing what he really does for a living makes everything in my head just click.

The way he’d redirect the conversation whenever I asked about his job. The way I’d always suspected him of hiding something about himself from me. The way every movement he’s ever made with me has been lined with restraint.

He could hurt me, has had the opportunity for months, but he never has. He’s always been careful with me, has always held and looked at me like I’m something precious to him.

My brain starts shifting to his side of the argument, and I can feel my morality ripping to shreds under his hands.

Before I can think, I shove him away, getting to my feet to point at the door. “Get out. You lied to me. You’re a murderer. A monster.”

Feelings or not, I know I can’t do this. I can’t just ignore what I saw, what he’ll continue to do. So he needs to leave.

He doesn’t.

Azriel just leans against the kitchen island counter and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he watches me for a long moment.

“Maybe I am,” he says eventually around a mouthful of smoke. “But just because I’m a monster, Elain, doesn’t mean I can’t give you what we both know you need. Nothing has to change.”

It already has.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“No?”

“No.”

He prowls toward me, the intent shining so clear in his eyes I take a step back for every one he takes forward. My back hits a wall, and he traps me between it and himself, caging me in with strong arms.

The line between right and wrong, good and evil, seems to blur as he gets closer and closer, and by the time we’re sharing air, I don’t know which way is up. All I know is him.

He takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, tips my head back with his thumb, and then breathes the smoke into my mouth.

It should be disgusting, considering I don’t smoke and make it a point to avoid cancer-causing products in general.

It should be. But it isn’t.

It’s the opposite of disgusting.

There’s a buzz in my veins that has nothing to do with the nicotine, and I realize too late that he’s the vice I can’t quit.

I’m too far gone, too addicted already.

He pulls back slightly, tucking the still-burning cigarette behind his ear. His eyes burn with intensity, and his dark hair and shoulders are surrounded by the smoke clinging to his shoulders like a shadow.

He looks like the villain of a movie I never even knew I wanted to watch, and it physically pains me to have him this close and not be touching him, so I put my hands on his chest, fingers fisting in the expensive material of his suit.

His are on the wall by my head, bracing himself as he leans in and slowly licks a line across my lower lip, like he’s tasting me.

My want for him is a tangible thing, and I have to ask myself if he’s right. Does it matter what he does, when he makes me feel like no one else ever has? Do I care enough to stay away from him?

“You don’t need me?” he asks again, so close his lips brush against mine.

I shake my head, even though I know it isn’t the truth. I do need him, and that’s why this hurts so damn bad. Why this betrayal cuts so deep.

Even though we’re so close he’s nothing but a blur, I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through me.

And then he says something that changes everything.

“Well, I need you,” he whispers, so softly it breaks my heart.

I’m lost.

I’m so goddamn lost in him, I forget everything we were talking about, forget everything he’s done.

My knees go weak, and I cling to him, pulling him into me as I slip down the wall.

His lips crash against mine, and I know instantly that this is him. This is all of him. I finally know exactly who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s probably our hundredth kiss, but it feels like the first, and I’m drunk on it, drunk on him.

Hands in my hair, he kisses me like he wasn’t lying--like he needs me.

My hands pull tighter, until there’s not an inch between us, and he makes a low sound in his throat. His are on my waist, gripping me tightly and telling me he wants this just as much as I do.

The restraint from before is all but gone, and I tremble at how much power is in his grasp, how small and fragile it makes me feel in comparison.

My willpower crumples further, like a napkin in his fist, as his tongue teases mine, making me chase him for more.

Azriel pulls my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it between us as he draws back. It’ll be bruised tomorrow, but a sick part of me likes that he’s leaving his mark on me.

“Say it,” he say roughly, voice deep and scratchy with lust.

I don’t get a change to say it, or anything else, before he’s kissing me again, running his hands up my back and into my hair.

“Say it,” he demands again.

Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought, because I know what he wants but stay silent, refusing to give it to him.

Because I can’t.

Everything he said tonight makes sense, but I just... can’t.

He kisses me again, a lingering kiss that makes my chest ache, and almost pleads, “Say it, Elain. Say it doesn’t matter. Say you need me.”

The air grows thick as I stay silent, because it’s response enough.

His eyes narrow, and even though everything inside me begs me to, I don’t stop him as he steps away.

“Only two more months here, and you want to spend them lying to yourself?”

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m leaving so soon, but I don’t let myself get distracted. “I’m not lying to anyone.”

Except it feels like I am.

A smile pulls on his lips, but it isn’t friendly. “You’re fucking lying, and you know it. You know it doesn’t matter, you just can’t admit it, because then you’d be like me.”

Heart pounding, I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Fucking a monster would be condoning the devil’s work, right?”

He takes a step in, catching my wrists as I try to push him back, pinning them above my head, and laughing.

“You saying you don’t want me is the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard, carro. ”

“Azriel-”

Mouth next to my ear, he growls, “You’re really telling me if I slip my hand between your pretty thighs, I won’t find you wet and ready for me?”

I push against his hands and look away, all the confirmation he needs.

He tsks, feigning disappointment.

I close my eyes and fight my response to him with everything I have. I try to tell myself it matters, that what he does disgusts me, but it doesn’t sound believable to even myself at this point.

“I could prove it to you, make you come right here and now, but I don’t think I will.”

I’m breathing heavily, two seconds from passing out at the intensity and violence in his voice.

“I think the next time I fuck you, Elain, you’re going to have to tell me you need me just as much as I need you. You’re going to tell me you want me, and you’re going to beg me for more.” He licks up the side of my neck, and I press my lips together to hold in the moan that wants to escape. “You’re going to tell the goddamn truth, and you’re going to fucking apologize for lying to me in the first place.”

I glare at him, silently conveying that that will never happen. He lied to me. I’m not apologizing for shit.

He sees that and everything else in my gaze, and he shakes his head slowly.

“I’ll get your confession, Elain,” he promises, going to the door and almost ripping it off its hinges as he opens it. “I always do.”

___________________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @bamchickawowow @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @loosingdreams @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @teddytdr

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elaine irwin #azriel #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elain x azriel fanfiction

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 21

Ticci Toby: Humiliation, Toys & Teasing

I’m not happy with this one either, which is unfortunate cause I was looking forwards to writing it :/

I think the pacing’s weird and it kinda draws things out in a weird way? Idk, it is what it is 👁👃👁

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

The brunet thrusts his hips forwards, trying to bring attention to his swollen member twitching in need

He’s so hard it must be painful

You’re almost surprised he’s managed to last this long, though you suppose the cock ring wrapped around the base of his member certainly helps

Even with vibrator you have him seated nice and pretty on

“(Y-y/n)—please. Please touch me—“

His breathing’s ragged, his voice shaky as he squirms and begs, his fingers bundling up the sheets below to stop himself from touching his stiff erection

You hum thoughtfully in response, faintly stroking his shaft with feather-light touches that have him shuddering

“I don’t know, baby boy” you practically purr, “Do you deserve it?”

“Yes, g-god—fuck, p-plea—oh~”

He almost immediately cuts himself off with a choked sob as you turn the intensity of the vibrator way up

His eyes squeeze shut, a pleading whine dripping from his lips as he shifts in place, trying to feel more of the toy while also trying to follow your instructions to stay still

He makes for quite the sight

His chest falls and rises with heavy gasps, his muscles contracting beneath scarred skin as the thin sheen of sweat practically makes him glow

His hips stutter and he moans, throwing his head back, his legs jerking with the tremors of his oncoming orgasm

But before he reaches his climax, you turn down the setting again and watch as tears of frustration build in his dark eyes blown wide with lust

“(Y-y/n), p-please—“

You bite your lip, chuckling

“Such a needy, desperate little whore, aren’t you, baby? You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you? Are you that much of a filthy, needy little fucktoy for me?~”

You stroke up his length again, smearing his own precum over his slit and he gasps, trying to hump up into your touch

“Y-yes! Please (y/n), I’m-I’m your good little toy~ Please let me cum, baby. Please—“

He looks so cute begging and hanging onto your every word

You almost feel bad for him

Almost

“I don’t know, baby boy,” you tilt your head, humming, “I don’t think you deserve it just yet”

Another delicious whine frees itself from his lips as you increase the buzzing, only to lower it back down all too soon

“N-no” he sobs, “please. Please (y/n)—I-I need more. It—it hurts~”

He tries to grind down on the toy shoved inside him and it has his cock twitching, more beads of precum drooling up his slit

Your stomach flips, muscles coiling eagerly at the sight

You can’t resist tightly wrapping your fist around him and he mewls, his hips arching and muscles tensing as he pushes more of his cock into your hand

“Such a filthy boy, aren’t you?~” you coo

Moving from the base to his tip, you slowly jerk him off, letting your pace grow in time until he’s rutting into your touch

Your free hand toys with the vibrator’s settings, pumping various frequencies, watching as his mouth falls open and he starts getting unbearably close all over again

And just as his cock twitches into your hand, you pull away again, leaving him high and dry for the god knows how many th time

“(Y/n)”

The way he hisses your name through a choked groan has your core fluttering

“P-please?”

You tilt your head to the side, a small, playful smile on your lips

“No”

It’s surprisingly easy to forget how strong and fast he can be when he wants to

Because you certainly don’t expect him to suddenly pin you down so quickly against the mattress, forcing you beneath him with his own body

And then he wastes absolutely no time sheathing himself into you in one quick, hard motion

All his built up tension‘s released as he slams into you—hard and fast and mercilessly—until you’re crying out for him

“A-ah!~ F-fuck, Toby!”

You scream his name, back arching up from the pressure of him pounding into your core, every harsh thrust making your eyes roll back to your skull

You rake your nails down his back, trying to find some semblance of a grip as he shows no sign of easing up, forcing you to take every inch of his swollen length as he rams into you like a man depraved

“This-this what you fucking wanted, (y/n)?“ he snarls against your neck before biting into your skin, coaxing a loud whimper from you in response

You must look like a pathetic mess beneath him

“F-fuck, Toby, please!”

You’re breathless, trying to get him to slow down because dear god, you can’t keep up

One of your hand flails out, trying to reach the remote to the vibrator but he quickly snatches your wrist and pins it down, hips never once faltering

“Nice fucking try” he groans

You’re helpless beneath him, and the shift in power dynamics is borderline humiliating

“You’re m-my slut, (y/n). My little fucktoy~”

You can only answer in a desperate cry, the knot in your gut growing unbearably tight with every smack of his cock into your fleshy walls

You make some indignant sound as your peak rises, threatening to spill over way too quickly

On instinct, your legs wrap around his hips, giving him better leverage to hit deeper inside you, and it has him repeatedly pounding into a cluster of nerves that has you screaming

“My toy. M-mine to use. Mine. Mine. All fucking mine”

The bed creaks with every pump of his hips, the noise obscenely lewd as it fills the room around you

You lose track of the obscenities spilling from your mouth, breath catching in your throat as one particularly harsh push of his cock has your vision going white

He doesn’t relent, not even as your body jerks forwards, shuddering with a choked scream as you cum against him, your cunt convulsing tightly around his member

You don’t know how he manages to keep going

And just as the stimulation’s starting to become too much, he stills his frantic rutting, shivering above you and letting out a delicious moan as his cum fills you up

You wince as he forces his seed further into you by riding out his high with slow rolls of his hips, savoring your cunt squelching around him

And then finally, he collapses on top of you, body still shuddering and jerking from the remnant waves of ecstasy coursing through his system

With whatever strength you have left, you reach up and comb his hair from his face

He hums as you do, melting into your touch, his previous frustration completely evaporated

“You alright, baby boy?”

He hums again in confirmation, murmuring a tired “you?” in response

You plant a small kiss to his forehead

“With you? Always”

He groans, nuzzling into your neck and promising to clean you up—but only after you stay in bed with him just a little longer

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x reader smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader smut #creepypasta kinktober #kinktober

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

Text

Humans are weird: Close Quarters Fighting

“Fix bayonets!”

The roar of the artillery flying over their heads at the enemy fortifications was almost deafening and the Vilen soldiers had been confused by their human allies order. They watched the humans pull from their belts sharpened metal spikes and attach them to the fronts of their guns. Some were polished with the tint of freshly factory forged while others showed signs of rust and what appeared to be purple blood stains on them.

Hova approached the lip of the trench and stood up on his haunches to glance across. The enemy fortress sat some three hundred yards across a crater filled hellscape. The rain of shells pounding against the outer walls sent up clouds of thick dust blocking him from making out any further details. He was stretching his head slightly further over the lip of the trench when a hand grabbed him from behind and pulled him back harshly.

“Are you trying to get your fucking head blown off?”

Hova saw the human soldier who had been issuing the orders before now glaring at him.

“I only wished to see my enemy.” Hova replied, straightening himself up.

“You’re about to see plenty of them.” The human grabbed Hova’s weapon and slammed it into his arms harshly. “We go over the top once the barrage stops.”

With that the human stormed off down the trench shouting and cursing at other soldiers.

The war had been dragging on for nearly three years in a seemingly endless stalemate between the Vilen and the Kopa forces as each vied for control of their homeworld.

The Vilen were thin limbed humanoids with a green skin pigment and horned scalps. They specialized in technology, medical advancements, and engineering marvels and had occupied the northern hemisphere of the world which was rich in green pastures and clear water.

The Kopa by contrast were a muscular brutish race. Their skin was as tan as the deserts they roamed in the southern hemisphere which expanded into an unforgiving domain. Though appearing simple in nature, the Kopa were also technologically savvy, though their limited supplies of natural resources had stunted their development beyond the most crud machines.

The Vilen had not wished to share their lands and had sealed off all access to their territory along their respective borders to the great anger of the Kopa people which had led to the ongoing border war. Both sides had heavily fortified their respective borders with a series of fortresses that had for the opening years halted any major ground invasion. It wasn’t until the Vilen had achieved space travel and discovered the species beyond the stars that the war had changed in their favor. They had portrayed themselves as fragile beings who were being set upon my barbaric invaders and called for any help from nearby alien species. One of the first to respond had been the humans who had dispatched a relief force to help break the deadlock and negotiate a ceasefire from a position of power.

The thunderous sound of explosions slowly died away and before Hova could even think a shout rang out down the trench line.

“Over the top!”

Every human soldier that had been huddled in the trench suddenly was a blur of motion as they scrambled over the lip of the trench screaming their lungs out and charged across the ground to the Kopa fortress.

The Vilen soldiers were slower to react and climbed over the lip of the trench and formed up into a strict line and began marching across as if it was a parade. Hova stood side by side and watched as human soldiers had discarded any sense of battle doctrine and were merely rushing from cover to cover in their mad dash.

They had made it roughly half way across when a overwhelming roar came from the fortress. Through the dust choking clouds the Kopa charged out to meet them. Standing nearly three feet taller than any human or Vilen it was a terrifying sight to have seemingly endless hordes of them pouring from the clouds.

Hova was no doubt sure the Kopa commander had deemed the fortress too badly damaged to hold itself and wagered that if they could close the distance with the enemy their superior strength and stature would carry the day.

Hova dropped to one knee and brought up his splinter rifle and waited for his officers command. Humans near by had needed no such command and had begun firing at will into the onrushing mass of muscle, dropping the occasional Kopa soldier or two.

The order rang out to fire and the line of Vilen soldiers let loose a thick burst of splinter shots into the enemy. Specialized casings that shattered into tiny fragments after leaving the barrel flung head long into the Kopa charging line, blinding dozens and incapacitating even more by ripping away the flesh from vulnerable spots such as the throat, knees, and elbows.

Yet still they charged.

The Vilen officer was already ordering the second volley to fire when a slug round from a Kopa blaster smashed through their helmet and detonated.The harsh bark of blaster rounds was coming sporadically from the Kopa charge, their weapons seemingly massive in their hands yet wielded with such skill it was a sharp contrast to their dimwit appearance.

The Vilen troops were getting torn to shreds by the return fire and just as Hova thought they were about to retreat from their attack he saw the human that had been berating him before push passed him.

“CHARGE!”

The human shouted as he sprinted, SPRINTED, to an enemy whose shadow alone could consume him in darkness.

Hova watched in utter astonishment as more and more humans broke from cover and followed after their leader, weapons held in front of them with their metal spikes at the ready.

The Kopa and Human waves clashed together with a bombastic roar. Humans drove their metal spikes deep into the Kopa flesh and stabbed repeatedly. Hova watched a human get grabbed by the neck and flung like a club by a Kopa soldier to swat away others only to be discarded after their neck broke in the vice grip.

One instance he saw a human swing their rifle like a bat into the face of a Kopa only for it to shatter in their hands. While the Kopa stepped back from the blow the human reached behind them and pulled out an entrenching shovel and swung it hard into the Kopa’s neck. A bright stream of purple blood shot out from the wound and the Kopa roared in agony as the human pulled the shovel loose and struck again nearly decapitating the creature.

Hova was suprised how the Kopa were being so easily overpowered by the tinier humans until it dawned on them that they had been fighting the Vilen for so long that these tactics were unheard of to them. Whenever the Kopa would charge Vilen lines vilen would pull back to better defended positions. They had never met a foe that would be so willing to meet them in hand to hand combat,

Hova turned to see that his Vilen comrades had already retreated back to the safety of their trenches and were watching the ongoing slaughter with passing interest.

A stray slug round tore into Hova’s arm and spun him to the ground. He reached over to see that it had just grazed him and thankfully hadn’t detonated, otherwise he would surely be missing an arm.

The Kopa soldier that had fired the shot was storming towards him now and before Hova could bring up his rifle the creature swatted it away like a twig. He rolled sharply to the side as it brought down its massive foot, no doubt intending to cave in his skull. The Kopa roared and stomped again and again as Hova continued rolling, barely missing the foot by mere moments.

Now frustrated beyond amusement the Kopa brought up their weapon to finish Hova off when a human ran forward and tackled from the side. The Kopa lost balance and their shot exploded next to Hova’s head and embedding a thick piece of rock shrapnel in his helmet.

Hova scrambled to his feet and saw the human in a state of pure madness fighting the Kopa with their bare hands. The thick hands of the Kopa swung out like battering rams but the human kept their distance and was able to easily evade each punch. The Kopa lunged forward to grapple the human in a death hug and snap their spine only for the human to step forward and bring a clench right fist into the Kopa’s jaw.

The blow unbalanced the Kopa and they fell face down into the ground. Before they could even rise the human had leapt on to their back and firmly grabbed the back of their head and proceeded to smash it into the ground.

He saw the Kopa’s face bloodied and broken before the human continued to smash it into the ground over and over. The Kopa thrashed around for the first few moments before going limp and the human crawled off gasping for air.

Hova just sat there as they regained their composure, picked up a nearby discarded trenching shovel, and returned to the fray as the humans continued to drive the Kopa back to their shattered fortress.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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radarcore · 3 years

Text

First Meet

Dr. Woodsworth, a biologist who works at a wildlife rehabilitation center for dragons in a more modern-day, ends up getting the strange task of researching an unknown dragon that is way past the biologist's comfort levels.

Contains: Fearplay, fluff, 'trapped' tiny, like, two mentions of basically vore, dragon giant bc hell yeah L:<, non-binary tiny / giant.

mspaint is a hell to draw with man i didn even bother wit that background anyways hi yes, Orpheus (the giant) is owned by my friend, Bard! This is based on an au we had,,,,yeah >:))) Dr. Woodsworth is my character that i made like, today. Sorry if the ending was cut a bit short, i was rEALLY tryna end it.

Story under cut!

There were three people riding the railways towards Enclosure 7-B. Two well-armored guards, eyes just barely seem behind the glinting visors of their helms, tranquilizer guns tightly clenched, close to their chest. They were standing up, somehow able to keep their balance in the shaky compartment riding the railways. And then there was the scientist, a half-elf, half-pixie sitting down on the seat of the compartment. He had crossed his legs, fiddling with a bike chain fidget as he subconsciously bit his lip. Dr. Woodsworth certainly was no stranger when it came to dragons, unknown species of the (usually) winged reptilian species was his branch of work in the rehabilitation center. But most of the dragons he dealt with within that branch were fae dragons, whom Woodsworth, due to his fae roots, could understand, or rather just smaller dragons overall. But he had been told about…whatever this was. Huge…horns that curled upwards, boney claws with could most *certainly* tear him apart in seconds. He was mentally pacing, desperately trying to think of a way he’d be able to deal with such a beast. …He had been told the dragon could talk, so that brought some relief to him. …And what if he were to have to go inside the enclosure…? Woodsworth didn’t have wings, not anymore, at least…he would be as good as dead if the dragon wanted anything to do with him. The movement suddenly stopped; the compartment let out a pressured hiss. The scientist hadn’t looked up at anything else besides his fidget, but he could hear the guards’ armor shift. Letting out a shaky sigh, Dr. Woodsworth pushed himself up from where he sat, sticking the fidget into his pocket. His legs quivered under the weight. “…Here we go.”

***

As the hallway’s walls turned into glass, Dr. Woodsworth quickly pulled out his circular sunglasses, trying to still adjust his eyes to the sudden light. He didn’t bother to gaze outside, just desperately trying to keep pushing onward and hope things go well. Certainly, when it came to the…least dangerous dragons, things weren’t this technologically advanced, not built to keep whatever monstrosities could lie inside. Gigantic…monstrosities. But suddenly, the guards had stopped. “We’ll stand out here, go inside, there’s a distress button if you’re in need of us.” One of them had lightly tapped Dr. Woodsworth with their supposed tranquilizer gun. “…fuck…” Dr. Woodsworth gulped, and carried on, opening the door… It was a small square room, with four simple buttons and a lever. The middle part of the room was nothing but glass to show the *proper* enclosure inside. It was huge, coated with a thick snow with a somewhat rigid terrain. In the corner was…the dragon. A hulking beast of mostly fur, the claws were even sharper than Woodsworth imagined, the horns even larger, their neck winded like a snake’s. …A skull-like mask to cover the upper head. Dr. Woodsworth sheepishly leaned in towards the microphone that was close to the lever, trying to repeat the same words repeatedly before he pressed on the (supposed) microphone button. “…H-h-h-hello…h-h-hello…good-good-good morning? A-a-afternoon? Fuck…fuck…fuck it.” He slammed down onto the microphone button, choking out, “Good afternoon!” The beast winded their head upward, bending into an S shape as they slowly leaned towards the observatory that Dr. Woodsworth was basically stuck inside. Dr. Woodsworth hyperventilated, slowly backing up as the beast got closer, “Please…please don’t…” As if the beast could hear him now, so far from the microphone. As anyone could come for his aid. Whatever happened now. He wasn’t ready.

“Heyo!” With a soft bonk against the glass, the dragon had responded, gently fluttering their massive wings as they peered at the doctor with interest. Refusing to leave the massive dragon waiting incase of…*something horrid*, Dr. Woodsworth clicked on the button once more, leaning into the mic. “…M-my name is-is…Doctor. Doctor W-Woodsworth. I’ve…come to a-ask some questions…” “Oh, my name’s Orpheus!” Orpheus’ ear flicked, their tail faintly swaying in the distance. “Can I ask a question first though…this place is kinda weird an’ all, so like…” “…G-Go ahead…” He pulled out a clipboard and pen, preparing himself to jot down notes of his ‘interview’. “Well, first off, how long have I’ve been hibernating, *why* am I a dragon, and where’s ghost cat? He’s smaller than me, and he…*also* isn’t a dragon.” Dr. Woodsworth, his finger hovering above the microphone, *how was he supposed to answer those questions?* But there…was something interesting. They weren’t always a dragon…? …Huh…? “…You weren’t always a dragon?” “Oh no!” Orpheus raised a claws,”I was like…uh…I think shorter than you…? I dunno. But my friends called me short. Also I didn’t have these cool wings before too! And now everyone is small too, not just ghost cat! Like you! …But. Uhm…it’s really lonely in here and it’s making me nervous.” Dr. Woodsworth wrote that all down,”…W-well I-I s-suppose we-we can help you g-get adjusted…” He tried ignoring Orpheus’ comment about being lonely. As kind as the dragon seemed…he didn’t want to risk it. “Or…or…we can r-reverse it.” “Oh no! No! I don’t want to reverse this! This is super cool, …um, unless ghost cat is uhm…scared of it, but! …You haven’t answered where ghost cat is…?” As Orpheus’ ears flattened, Dr. Woodsworth’s heart sank. What was he suppose to say…? “…I don’t know.” Orpheus paused,”I…I…” The dragon slowly turned. “W-wait! I’m sure we can think of something! Uh-uh…we-we still n-need to a-ask q-questions…and…” Dr. Woodsworth put his hand to the glass before taking it away, his feelings conflicting. Fuck…what was he supposed to do? The dragon wasn’t talking, but he was coming out with no research whatsoever.

He leaned into the buttons, slammed down on the lever, maybe that could do something…? With a mechanical whir, Dr. Woodsworth was… Descending.

Dr. Woodsworth PANICKED, desperately trying the switch the level back and forth, “No! No! No! NO!” No, fuck fuck FUCK. The room shook as it stopped at a halt, the door whining open as a chill swirled into the room. He was still frantically pressing buttons. “…Huh…?” THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Fuck…fuck…fuck…this was it. He collapsed onto his knees, clinging onto the panel. This was it. The end. Dr. Woodsworth screamed as he saw as Orpheus’ snout poked through the door. He attempted to curl into a ball, sobbing into his lab coat. “Heyo…is everything alright? I saw the square thingy going down, it’s probably really cold in here! I can warm you right up!” Dr. Woodsworth slowly turned, “Wh-“ Orpheus, using their mouth, plucked Dr. Woodsworth by the labcoat, pulling him out of the room. Dr. Wordsworth simply had gone limp, barely able to move by this point, his heart beating out of his chest as he simply accepted his fate. …Whatever that fate was. Being eat alive? Torn apart to shreds? …He didn’t know, but he accepted it to be painful. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness overtake him. …But there wasn’t any limbs slowly torn off, teeth tearing as his skin. …In fact, wherever he was, it felt soft. As he opened his eyes, he realized he had been gently pressed against the dragon’s chest, the dragon’s ‘arms’ curled around the scientist. Dr. Woodsworth caught his breath, still shaken from the recent events. He eventually let himself sink into the dragon’s fur, quivering as he sat himself right up afterwards. “…Is it less cold now…?” Orpheus turned their head slightly down, blinking as they awaited Dr. Woodsworth’s response. Dr. Woodsworth hugged his legs, he was finally able to relax, and soon as the panic was over, it had turned into annoyance. He let out a grumble, “I’m quitting this job.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t community #oc: dr woodsworth #oc: orpheus #orpheus solely goes by they/them btw!!#and dr woodsworth goes be he/him they/them #but i solely used he/him for the dr for simplicity's sake given orph's pronouns #feel free to ask ab them!!#diversity win! all the characters in this au arent cis!#unless guard is idk? BARD IS GUARD-

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shini--chan · 4 years

Note

Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.

Yandere Levi Ackerman

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.”

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him. It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet!

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh.

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style.

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

#yandere levi #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere levi x reader #my writing #yandere levi ackerman

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nicklightbearer · 3 years

Text

whatever here is the fic

we happy few, nick lightbearer is once again hunted by foggy jack but this time he fights back. just..... not.... well.

this is a tickling fanfic fair warning <3

“Nick.. Nick!”

Rolling over, Nick Lightbearer grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head.

“Virgiiiiiiiiillll.. Five more minutes…” “In five minutes you’ll be dead, idiot! Up, up!”

Nick blinked a few times before feeling a small something land on his stomach- with a high-pitched screech, he sat bolt upright, scrambling to throw the blankets off. There was an oof! from the floor where they landed, and Nick shivered as he peered over the bed.

A rat. There had been a rat- wait- Virgil?

“.. What? What! You’re dead! I- I already avenged you- what do you want now??”

The rat huffed indignantly.

“Well, maybe I’m trying to keep your stupid arse alive, huh? He’s headed here already- so put some pants on, for god’s sake, and find a weapon!” “He? He who?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who do you think??”

Who would- ah bollocks. Nick leapt to his feet, clutching at the wall for support as his head spun. God, even the reds and yellows were wearing on him..

“Foggy- Foggy Jack?? But I- I thought he-“ “Oh, come on. Put two and two together, Nicky.” “Ooh, if you weren’t dead, I’d right love to throttle you for the stupid vague clues…”

Virgil wheezed out a laugh that made Nick roll his eyes as he dug through the dresser.

“You may have blasted the bastard right hard, but it’d take more than a riff or two to kill a man. He’s more starstruck than ever, now.” “See, that wasn’t so hard! Straight answers, Virg, straight answers!”

The room wavered again and Nick cursed angrily as he toppled over trying to pull his slacks up.

“Who taught you how to quip back, huh?” “Could have something to do with the fuckin’.. Broken mood booth outside.”

Grumbling, he finally managed to stand up and pull his pants up proper, tugging on his jacket with only a moment’s hesitation. The blue one, yes, he’d rather wear dark colors if he’s hiding from a serial killer.

“Anyway- where is he now?”

There was a pause, and Nick looked up. The rat was gone.

“Virgil..? Dammit.”

A sudden jiggling of his door handle made him gasp, and he backed away before bolting towards the window.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckit in a bucket, ooh, I don’t have my-“

The front door splintered under a heavy blow, and Nick squealed another curse to himself before nearly leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

”Guitar!” “Mr. Lightbearer.. Do open up, please! I brought ahh.. Some whiskey! A gift from a fan!”

It almost gave him pause before he shook his head wildly.

“No, no. Focus, Nicky!”

He cast his gaze around the room in a panic. Empty pill bottles littered the sink and floor, and he shoved a few of them out of the way to rummage through the cabinet. Nothing.

Nothing but a plunger next to the toilet- though he considered it, the flimsy weight felt more useless than his own fists, and he discarded it quickly.

That left.. the tub.

Wait. The tub! He leaned over to whip the curtain back, and cringed slightly at the sight of the woman inside- thank god, she was clothed. But in her hand was his goal- just last night, he’d been on the.. Receiving end of…

Pulling it carefully from her grasp, he sighed in relief before jolting at the sound of the door splintering again. Fuck, fuck! He couldn’t let Jack see this poor bird- wait-

Checking her pulse, he sighed in relief. Okay, problem for later. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman woke up alone in his house. He quickly pushed out the door again, closing it and jiggling the lock just to make sure it wouldn’t open again- yep!

Then again, that left only himself and the eye that now peered through his former front door, which was largely splintered to bits. He backed up a little before dashing to his bedroom, both hoping and not hoping that Jack would follow.

“Ohh, Mr. Lightbearer… Nicky~!” The slip from formal to a deeper purring tone sent a shiver down the rockstar’s spine, and he clutched at his makeshift weapon nervously as he pushed his back against the door.

“Hey, lock it and get back, idiot! He just broke the other one down, what happens when he slams an axe through this one??” “Virgil- ooh, you’re right!”

He’s always right. Nick jumped back, casting his gaze around the room after clicking the lock shut. Not much to work with, really, but he could.. He could hide- er- well, the closet would be too obvious, right? Or would it be so obvious that he wouldn’t check?

“No, he knows you’re stupid, Nick. Fucksakes.” “Well, what- ooh!”

Pulling open the dresser drawers, he started throwing clothes on the floor next to the window. The rat perched on top of the dresser sighed as he watched, but Nick ignored him for the moment.

“And what, pray tell, is the plan here? D’you have a gun you never told me about? A machete? Hell, even a baseball bat-” “No- I’m fine for weapon, thanks. This is- well- you’ll see!”

Shouldn’t say it out loud, not with how the door groaned as a weight was thrown against it. Nick shuddered as he pushed the clothes haphazardly closer to the wall, then scooted behind the curtain. The pile on the floor was enough to hide his feet- and the curtains were against a black window, so no light would give him away…

It wasn’t perfect. But if the closet was checked first, he’d have the upper hand.

The door splintered after only a few more hits, and Nick held his breath. He could just barely see through the fabric, having his face so close- and seeing Jack again, albeit this time with a slightly more ruffled appearance, made his heart leap into his throat. Terror was enough to keep his fist gripping the weapon, and he watched with wide eyes as the killer stalked into the room, the red glimmer from his own eyes casting an eerie light over the room as a cloud of fog rolled in after him.

It was nothing if not dramatic, he mused, almost inspired by the sight if he hadn’t been fearing for his life.

Jack hummed to himself as he glanced around the room, the familiar tune to Cheer Up bringing a grimace to Nick’s face. Genuinely, the guy was still a fan- it felt bad to be holding a weapon towards any fan for any reason, but..

Seeing the glittering knife that Jack held whipped his perspective back instantly. Fuck, this guy was absolutely bonkers- though, granted, that only made him feel worse- he couldn’t afford to be wishy-washy about this!

As predicted, Jack didn’t even notice the curtains, instead peering under the bed before turning towards the closet.

“Nick, Nick, Nick… Really, I can’t believe you’d let yourself be cornered so easily. Really, I expected more resistance. No activated security system-”

Fuck! He’d forgotten to turn it on in his drunken stupor the night before!

“No bobbies to guard the house, and not a single manager in sight.. Oh, wait!”

A flash of anger nearly made him leap out right there- but no, he’d wait and bide his time.. For just the right moment…

As Jack grasped the handle on the closet, Nick tensed.

“I suppose you don’t have one of those, do you?”

He flung the doors wide with a taunting laugh that died slowly, his outstretched arms lowering with confusion.

“What..?”

Now!

Nick leapt from his hiding place, nearly tripping on all the clothes but somehow managing to stumble so that he was standing on the bed- not unlike someone hiding away from a mouse, except the mouse was a person and that person had a big knife with his name on it, possibly literally.

However, his unsure footing made him miss his target of ‘back of the skull, god, please let me just knock him out’ and instead slam the instrument across Jack’s back. The impact made him tense, and he squeezed the handle nervously-

Only for electricity to zip out of it, making his palms tingle as the killer gasped. Oh, fuck on a stick.

But.. Something was off. Rather than immediately whipping to stab him, Jack stumbled, slamming against the dresser and clutching at his suit.

“What- what in the blazes-”

Well, no time for hesitation! He swung again, this time holding the button down with purpose. Anything to catch this guy off guard, right? It was also far easier to tap repeatedly at his body rather than his head, and… It worked.

Somehow, it worked. Jack’s arms were glued to his sides and he shimmied away from the assault, expression shifting from a confused pout to a more.. Well, his cheeks puffed out and he cringed, but a smile still seemed to tug at his lips. This smile was different, though, and seemed far more genuine than the mask let on.

“Stop- hey, stop! What- waha- wait!”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Foggy Jack. Serial killer, menace to society, his personal fuckin’ stalker….. Was ticklish.

Okay. Okay. Well, this information was definitely going to be put to use- let’s see- right the fuck now. Nick slid down from the bed, using the Tickler to bop Jack closer to it- an easy task, given that he nearly tripped himself right onto it. With a quick push.. Perfect!

Foggy Jack was now on his bed. Disheveled, covering his mouth to hold back giggles, and with an expression bordering on infatuation shining out from behind his hand.

For a minute, he was stunned, before remembering the knife. Glancing down, though- oh, he wasn’t holding it. He’d dropped it- there, on the floor.

Jeez, it was almost like he didn’t want to kill Nick.

….. Shelving that thought to dwell on later, Nick grinned with as much menace as he could muster.

“Well, well, well. Ya know, mister Foggy Jack, you’re not half so scary like this.”

Jack yelped as the Tickler was pushed squarely against the middle of his stomach, trying to grab it but letting go quickly as Nick tapped the button a few times. The sensations of light electricity dancing across his torso quickly gave rise to more giggles, ones that he could hardly hold back for all the delight he clearly felt.

“Really! Sheesh, if I’d known about this before, all this lot of stuff would have been so much easier.. Hey, arms up!”

Nick huffed, pushing the arms that seemed nearly glued to his sides before just wiggling a hand between sleeve and shirt. For practiced fingers like his, coaxing out more shocked laughter was easy- and with the Tickler now running up and down his stomach, Jack finally broke.

“Waihihihit! No- stop! St- ahaha! It tickles!” “Well, I sure fuckin’ hope it does, lovely… That’s the point.”

Though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle things from here. Sure, he could wear out Jack and- wait, perfect. He’d just tickle the man until he properly passed out, then run and find a bobby. Perfect!

Though, as he watched the man writhe beneath him, escalated to proper laughter as skilled fingers squeezed at his sides and the Tickler continued tormenting his stomach, he was a tad hesitant. The ticklish near-agony that made shrieks ring out was… Hm, fun!

As he listened to more of that adorably broken-up laughter, he wondered how addicting this sort of drug might be.

“PLEHEASE- DON’T- DON’T TICKLE ME- IHI CAN’T, I CAN’T TAKE IT! M- MAHAHA- NNNNICK!” “That’s Mr. Lightbearer to you, mister Foggy. Go on, ask me proper to quit, maybe I’ll think about it. Probably not.” “Mr. Light- eehee! Lightbeareheher! Please!” “Please what??” “Plehehease- dOHON’T! Stoooohohop tickling mehehe!” “Don’t stop tickling you? Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart!”

Though the petname didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Nick chose to eliminate any chance of a response by ducking down- the sudden closeness of their faces made Jack go silent, breathless with both laughter and starstruck awe. Nick winked before ducking his face down and blowing a raspberry right against his neck, sliding the Tickler to press down against his torso again.

The response was immediate. Jack flailed wildly and cackled, beating at Nick’s back weakly as he choked out wordless pleas. Of course, none of them were heeded, and a few more raspberries were instead strategically placed on the man’s neck. In all his years, even knowing that most people were at least a little ticklish around the face (due to the masks, certainly), he’d never garnered a reaction quite this intense. Must be extra sensitive- therefore, weak, and the wheezes between laughs made Nick grin.

It was honestly.. Kinda cute. He was glad that his goal was to tickle the man to pieces, since otherwise he’d normally give a break by now.

As the struggling became weaker, and the laughs reached pitches that frequently dipped into silent snorts, Nick hummed to himself. Now would be a good a time as ever to drop a little.. Finale, let’s say. He pulled back for a moment, easily readjusting their positions- now, with Jack laying limply on the bed and only weakly with his arms linked around his waist, he climbed on after him properly. It wasn’t hard to sit above his prey, wiggling his fingers a little for extra effect- and relishing in the burst of giggles and flinch- before tapping his chin.

“Now, let’s see.. Something tells me you’re nearly tuckered out. But I’m not quite done, oh no.” “N.. No??”

Something about the way his voice was suddenly softer, even shy in a way- it made Nick’s stomach do a few flips.

“No! Of course not. You’ve been awful rude, banging my door down and threatening me. But I can put that behind us.”

Bending down again, he placed a hand on either side of Jack’s head, their faces nearly touching- once again, Jack held his breath, eyes wide.

“.. Close your eyes for me, Jacky.”

The speed at which his hesitation faded to nervousness, then to giddy anticipation.. It was adorable. Jack finally closed his eyes, then covered his face with a shuddering giggle.

From there, it was easy for Nick to unbutton his jacket- and even easier to bury his face against Jack’s stomach, nibbling through the shirt and earning a new set of squeals.

“No! No- ahaha- ooh, you-!” “Go on, give me a laugh! Just for me, Jacky! Ooh, those could be lyrics..”

He hummed a bit with the idea before returning to his previous actions- and it wasn’t long before the laughter died down, Jack barely writhing beneath him. Nick sat up eventually, finally giving it a rest as he watched the killer gasp a few times before he was silent.

… He leaned forward to check for a pulse. Yep. Hammering away, actually, but calming down.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do. Sitting back on Jack’s legs, he gazed down, watching him sleep with a foggy confusion building in the back of his skull.

Sure, a bobby might.. Be able to help. But he was so tired. And Jack was warm- warmer than he expected, and…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He did crawl over to the side of the bed to push the knife under the dresser, first, but.. Yes, a nap.

Popping a spare Joy he found under one of his shirts, he flopped onto the bed, resolving to take care of the matter later. It was probably fine.

#this one's for you #hackneyfashioninstitute #<3 #we ticklish few #lightbearer #foggy poggy

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angst-king · 3 years

Text

Seeing red pt 1

(TW mention of sexual exploitation/abuse, ablism, physical and verbal abuse, transphobia, homophobia, emotional abuse, & attempted suicide)

(i will also be using she/her pronouns on Kiri for the first chapter and half of the second chapter) “That was fun, damn you were so good for me tonight kitten.” A soft out of breath voice calls out, the girl quickly grabs her things, slipping her clothes back on and she's almost out the door before the girl on the bed adds. “Hey, money’s on the dresser, take what you want kitten, you did so well~” Her voice purs, taking the money she hurried out the door, and soon out of the apartment complex. Walking the cold dark streets in the chilly night, the girl grabs her phone and calls someone. “H-hello?” Her voice was soft and shaky “hey there Ijima, did you have to ‘go out’ again?” “m-mhm, I d-don’t wanna go home Ashido.” “I know you don’t, just come on over, I’ll get you some clothes okay.” “O-okay, s-see you in a bit Ashi” “See ya Kiri” The two hung up and her steps quickened into a run.

She was so glad the ashido house had always welcomed her, whether it was after school, or late into the night to the ass crack of dawn. Her quiet feet brought her to a familiar street and soon to the house she could finally rest at. She was tired, barely holding herself up shaky legs that were weak from her previous activities. Knocking on the door, she could barely hold herself up, the door had opened just in time. A girl with pink hair and black roots opened the door, she was dressed in her pajamas with a slight look of sleep on her face clouding those bright yellow eyes. “Th-thanks Ashido” She says, hurrying into the house, stumbling. The girl catches her waking up more. “God Kirishima be careful, I’ve got ya, let's get you showered and into some better clothes. Ashido says softly to Kirishima who tries to balance herself but still needs assistance.

“I’ve got ya, now come on, you need a bath hun.” Ashido closes the front door, and leads Kirishima up the stairs and into a bathroom, giving the girl privacy. Ashido found some comfortable clothes for Kirishima.

Kirishima wasn’t in there long seeing as she could hardly stand up straight it was quick but good enough to get the smell of sex, and stickiness of shared bodily fluids. Her hair loosely tied up as she comes out in a towel, Mina hands her the clothes. Kirishima heads back into the bathroom and changes. Coming out once more, she’s shaking but clothed and dry, Mina hated to see her friend so hurt. There was a dull look in those ruby eyes, her lips small and barely able to hold the weight of a smile during a time like this. She was tired, sore, and worst of all, she was numb. She sunk to her knees on the floor in the pink haired girl’s bedroom. She began to shake harder, holding onto herself, fingers tightly gripping her slim biceps. Face towards the floor, only light snivels and whimpers could be heard from the ravenette.

Coming over to comfort the girl, Ashido knelt down and gently pulled her into her loving frame. Flinching, it only took a second before a choked sob erupted and the young Kirishima started to cry. Her body going slack in her friend’s hold as tears rained down from her eyes dampening the shoulder she cried on. All the other could do was rub her back and hold her close and offer advice. There were moments upon moments of quiet sobbing before her words came out in a stammer.

“A-Ashido, I-I wanna die, please.” Her voice pleaded, shaking her head the pink haired teen tried to persuade her. “No Kiri, i’m sorry I can’t let you do that-” “pl-please, just give me a bottle of pills, cough syrup, a knife, something! Please Mina! Let me die already!!” She exclaimed, pressing her friend into allowing her to silence her inner demons. “Shhh Kiri, I’m sorry I know you do but, I can’t let you do that please, we’re gonna get you help, i know you need it, but we still gotta figure out a way to do that. Just hang in there please, you’re safe with me.” All Kirishima could do was nod and cry till she fell asleep.

Morning came and Kirishima was soon returned back home against their will yet she knew she couldn’t stay with the Ashidos forever. She already felt like a burden to them for having to come to them for food and clothes and even comfort or a place to escape. Walking up to the door, she knocked and waited for the door to be unlocked. A soft jingle jangle came and the door opened, stepping in she saw her mother smiling. “Finally you’re home, so how’d it go hun, did ya have fun?” She asked excitedly, the memories of the night before made her queasy to think about so she shook her head. “M-mom please I-I need to go lay down, I don’t feel good.” Frowning, the woman closes the door, rolling her eyes. “Oh please Ijima stop that, you’re fine, you’re always saying that or doing that stupid thing where you fall and pretend to have a seizure. I know you’re just doing it for attention.” Ijima sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not faking seizures for attention, why can’t you just believe me?” That earned her a harsh shove into the wall behind her, piercing red eyes glaring into scared ones that were once dull a second ago but now filled with fear. “Because I said so! Because I don’t have to believe you, I am the parent and you are MY child!” The more she spoke the louder Ijima’s mother’s voice got to the point of yelling. Ijima began to cower and shake from terror. “Honestly Ijima you have all of these stupid ‘problems’ like your ‘epilepsy’ or you saying you want to be a boy. Do you really think anyone’s gonna love a retarted tranny?!!” The slurs hurt but her phrases hurt the worst “Do you honestly think someone’s gonna wanna take care of you? No one is going to love you like that, no one wants someone like that! Get that through your head!” Her last words, Ijima was grabbed by her hair and her head was repeatedly bashed against the wall. Each slam made her feel weaker and weaker.

Dropping to her knees, Ijima went limp on the floor, the pounding radiated through her skull, causing her hands to tremble but she forced herself to silently walk up to her room. Each step, she wants to cry but biting her lip is the only thing keeping her from letting the floodgates break. She could feel her mind filling with static so she’d better hurry her pace, or if she didn’t she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Once in her own room, she let go, her entire being was weak. She collapsed with a thud onto the floor. Tensed and tight her body spasmed and jerked, eyes rolling back, she was defenseless and unable to do anything if anyone were to find her with plans in their head. Luckily her mother decided to leave her be for the time being. She’d wake up feeling sick, her body sore and tired, her vision gone. She was vulnerable and she hated it, unable to speak properly, ask for help, or even think of it. Who would help her anyway, it's not like she couldn’t do it herself. It took a bit of trying but she’d manage to get herself up right and into bed, which would lead to sleeping the day away or laying in bed until the nausea got worse enough to get sick.

When she woke up, she had no idea as to where she was. Her vision black, her skin was ice cold, and her stomach was sloshing queasily. Even without knowing her surroundings she forced herself to move. She stretched uncomfortably, her body was sore and achy from the seizure. Once she had stretched, she scooted her way around her room until she found her bed. Blindly searching the climbing up into her bed to lay down. It was exhausting and not to mention her nightly activities from the day before still left her exhausted. She ended up going back to sleep, she wanted to sleep away her days, she hated waking up. She hated opening her eyes and would sometimes pretend to be ‘out’ longer after a seizure just so people would leave her alone but. That didn’t always work, sometimes she would actually have another seizure, or someone would try and hurt her. Mainly the girls at school, they would just watch her convulse on the floor, step on her, take pictures or videos and post them around the school, or just gossip about her in general. Ijima wished she never had to wake up, and those urges grew stronger and stronger with each day until.

Today. She’d slept through yesterday but even now she felt horrible. Her vision hadn’t returned fully yet, it was spotty and blurry. She wasn’t mentally awake yet either, she had such horrible brain fog she could hardly register the screaming coming from outside her bedroom door. It was too late and in came her screaming mother. “IJIMA YOU CAN HEAR ME I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE!” Ijima flinched, her eyes weren’t adjusting as quickly as she’d like and neither was her brain. Even though the screaming woke her up as the woman came barging in towards her. “WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME?!! I CALLED YOUR NAME SO MANY TIMES, YOU OVERSLEPT AND YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL AND DON’T GIVE ME THIS ‘I HAD A SEIZURE' BULLSHIT CAUSE YOU’RE JUST A LYING BITCH WANTING ATTENTION!” The screaming scared her into a panic, she hated screaming, especially when her vision wasn’t right. If her vision was faulty her hearing would pick up the slack and so did every other sense. It made every sound more pronounced to the point where she could feel the venom in her mother’s words. Ijima was shaking as tears unknowingly ran down her face, she only knew this when she pointed it out. “Oh stop acting like this you brat, you’re so pitiful Emma left because of you. She didn’t want someone like you! She’d still be here if you weren’t so selfish!” A pillow was shoved over her face and held there but that didn’t muffle Ijima’s hearing. Ijima although used to hearing her mother say this, always hurt deep inside and the woman knew that. Emma was Ijima’s other mom, Emma joined the military a little after Ijima had started showing signs of epilepsy which only made Ijima more inclined to believe what the other woman known as Ito had told her. It was always a reminder, Ijima always felt responsible for Emma’s leaving but also felt betrayal and pain that no one would love her. Her own mother left her to join the military in order to avoid taking care of her. “Just go, get ready for school” Ito said coldly, getting up and releasing the pillow that suffocated Ijima. Ijima did her best to rise on her feet, steadying herself on the floor as her mother left her to get ready.

Ijima did her usual routine even when she’d had epileptic episodes that left her still rather disoriented. Though while in the bathroom a little voice in her head spoke to her. ‘Get those tums and take ‘em at school, see how many you can take before you die?’ With the suggestion she went through her medicine cabinet which really only held a bottle of tums, extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Ijima grabbed the tums and snuck them into her bag before continuing her routine. She skipped breakfast. On her way to school, she always stopped by Mina’s house knocking on the door, it isn’t long before the pink haired girl appears. “Hey there Kiri!” Ijima didn’t bother to make a smile, she couldn’t, the weight of it was too heavy for those weak lips. Her hands were shaky, and her eyes were dead on the outside but if you looked deep enough you could see the pain. Ijima was quieter than usual, all she did was pretend to listen to Mina talk about gossip, magazines, typical girl things that she always spoke of. Ijima wasn’t truly listening, she was spacing out, her mind was filled with static but also the obsession of death. She didn’t want to live any longer and she’d take any out she could. Maybe if she downed the entire bottle of tums it’ll be enough to kill her? Though if another opportunity presented itself to her, she’d take it. She couldn’t stand being on this earth any longer. She couldn’t stand being around girls, they were deceptive, deceitful, demanding, cold, and selfish. The only girl she could trust was Mina, Mina always proved to Ijima that she was a loyal friend. Mina was actually the only one who treated Ijima well. Even though she had met some bad men or boys, awful girls or women were a lot more prominent in her life. Ijima was done with it, why should she have to suffer due to her mother’s ideologies?!

As they made their way to school they had to cross busy streets that were filled with cars rushing to their destinations. When Ijima got an impulsive thought ‘jump into traffic’ She could hear the cars coming and would Mina even be able to stop her in time? And would the car even stop in time? She’d have to time it just right. The cross walk was still being held up as the car zoomed down the lane when Ijima saw a truck coming barrelling down the street. Her mind raced yet was clouded by multiple loud ones that screamed ‘DO IT! JUMP!’.’DO IT YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT’ ‘YEAH DO IT, NO ONE’S GONNA MISS YOU!’ ‘FINALLY AN ESCAPE, YOU CAN’T FAIL NOW!’ ‘DO IT! JUMP’ The truck was getting closer and Ijima didn’t even fight the voices.

Everything was a blur, a scream and sickening thud and crunch. Then it went black.

Waking up to a loud beeping sound, Ijima’s eyes struggled to open and adjust to the bright lights and whiteness of the hospital. The brightness was blinding to her eyes as they’d been used to the dark for some time now. Eyes looking around, they’re met with white walls, white sheets, white bandages wrapped around her wrists and even around some of her torso. As she became more and more awake, Ijima started to feel the pain. It was a dull aching pain, but it wasn’t just physical. Oh no this was mental. Sure her ribs had been cracked, she sustained a mild concussion, lacerations from the truck, and had a few seizures. The mental pain was way worse, she didn’t want to wake up today, she didn’t wanna wake up ever! She didn’t want to make it, this wasn’t her goal to wake up in a hospital! She wanted to be dead! Gone, away from the hell her mother puts her through even if she deserves it! ‘Why?! Why couldn’t they just leave me for dead!??’ She thought to herself as tears welled up in her eyes. Everything was building up at once, her emotions filled her even if she still felt numb to some extent she finally screamed as her emotions spilled like an overflowing sink.

“Why! Why couldn’t you all just let me fucking die!?!! PLEASE JUST KILL ME!” Even with her voice breaking between her words it was loud enough to be heard from out the door. Grabbing harshly at her long black hair, tangling it between her fingers tightly with white knuckle gripping. She cried, sobbed more like it. It was so overwhelming to try and find another way to just end it as she wanted her life to be over so badly. She wanted to bleed out on the floor and never wake up again. Her eyes darted around but she noticed that the only thing in the room was her bed, the vitals machine, and an IV pole with a line or two or fluids that were connected to Ijima. Seeing the bandages around her arms she unravels them revealing several lacerations that were still rather fresh looking. With her sharp shark-like teeth, she raises an arm towards her lips, opens her mouth and chomps down as hard as she could. Blood floods her mouth like an ocean flooding the tidal pools of its beach. The taste of Iron coats her tongue, discolor’s her teeth, and drips down her lips escaping to splatter onto her blue hospital gown. Hearing the screams, a nurse came to check up on Ijima who was horrified to witness Ijima’s desperate method of self harm. She ran to get a doctor when Ijima detached her mouth from her arm. Blood pouring and adding to the small drips and splatters on her gown. Large splatters of the crimson fluid painted the blue gown discoloring it to a somewhat purple hue. When the nurse urgently returned with a doctor and another nurse the doctor was just as surprised!

First they had to tie Ijima down, placing straps over her to keep her from trying anything else.

While she was being strapped down the doctor and a nurse worked to repair Ijima’s arm, she tried to fight them but in the end she was immobilized. Tired of fighting the doctor all she could do was cry and mutter about why couldn’t they just let her die. The process of actually fixing her arm was a little extensive. They had to stop the bleeding, then see how far the damage went before deciding on what they’d have to do. Even though she didn’t break any bones, the doctor decided to cast both her arms to keep her from trying to bite herself again. She ended up being put to sleep this time.

#my psych academia #kiribakupsychward #abused Kirishima #transkirishima #epiletic Kirishima

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emma-nation · 3 years

Text

Ticker Than Water - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 4)

Summary: When Amy changes the course of the events at the Opera House, she could never imagine the consequences she would have to face. After being by Rheya’s side for five years, she’s finally ready to be reunited with her friends and find a manner to defeat her. But when the time comes, what will prevail? Her love for Kamilah Sayeed and her friends or her family ties with the First Vampire?

Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance

Tag List: @slytherinthoughts7, @lightning-fury, @spacecarrousel, @gavryllo, @kamilah-the-bloodqueen, @whoinvitedalx, @sheyah, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @belvoiresqueenbee, @morvengarde, @tephy24, @iam-the-fuckin-queen, @scorpichoices, @leavemeandmyshipsalone, @jen825, @andreear17, @justejuste727, @evexofxtime, @zoe6111, @shanuuh, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @kenna-and-val-are-my-queens, @fal-carrington, @spookyjellyfishlove, @samgtt700, @just-thinking-loudly, @martachm, @masterofbluff, @rice-wifee, @lifeisadance96, @serafinedupontownsme, @hellyeah90sbaby

4 years ago - Japan

The first signs of Winter started showing on the city outside. Kamilah wondered what she'd be doing if she was still living in New York. Working, perhaps. And also planning the next Dark Solstice.

The necklace. She didn't have time to retrieve it from the secret drawer in her office when they ran away. It would be her only memory from something that didn't exist anymore - her relationship with Amy.

"I did it," the penthouse door opened in a slam, making Lily completely lose focus on her video game or Jax stop sharpening his katana. Adrian seemed to be in ecstasy. "I... I managed to grow a seedling from the sample we obtained from the Tree Of Death. This could stop Rheya for good."

"How great," Jax replied with some sarcasm. The last few months turned him into a version of his late master, Takeshi. "And what about the others? Also, how long is it going to take?"

The others. Kamilah's stomach flipped. Amy was one of them, along with Rheya's husband and daughter. And she was so strong as the First Vampire herself.

"It's a start, Jax," Lily added. "It'll be easier to take her down once she becomes a Feral."

"Fine, but I'd like to do the honors."

"Kamilah?" Adrian approached, touching her shoulder briefly. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes," Kamilah told. She was too invested in her own thoughts, reflecting about the part where she'd have to face Amy again. What if they had to kill her? Would she be able to do that? "We will wait. When the time comes, we'll fight again."

Lily suggested a celebration, Jax agreed and so did Adrian. Since their arrival, they barely left that penthouse. Except for the occasions where they attended Kano's training sessions. The psychic vampire taught them how to guard their minds from Rheya. And also Amy.

"You can go. I'll stay here."

"Come on, Kamilah," Lily started dragging her to the door. "You never say no to booze."

"I'm saying this time."

"Lily is right," Adrian said. "You are coming with us. It'll be a good distraction."

"Yeah," Jax agreed. "We must stick together. Remember?"

This manner, the three younger vampires managed to make Kamilah to go out for the first time in months. Still a little insecure about their safety, they decided to visit The Five's nightclub. In the end, it was not terrible. Jax and Akeyo engaged in a singing competition, while Lily attempted to copy The Evolved's robotic dance moves. The female vampire let out a small laugh.

"Finally," Aiko slowly approached her. "Acceptance is the last stage of grief."

"I guess so," Kamilah replied in a dry tone.

"She's not coming back. She made a choice."

"I know."

The reminder of that fact hit Kamilah's heart like applying salt in an open wound. One year had passed. Amy was still doing atrocities together with Rheya. She showed no signs of regret or mercy. Not even a trace of the old Amy still existed in her eyes. The powers had changed her completely.

"I need another shot," she ordered to the bartender. Then she looked at Aiko, who observed her with the same old and seductive smirk. "Two shots actually."

----------

A blow from one of the mythological creatures that surrounded Amy in the mindscape forest threw her hard against a tree. Though the fight was happening inside her mind, the pain felt extremely real, as if her skull had been fractured.

"Ouch..." she moaned in pain. "Can't... back... down..."

A fire blast started to form in the center of her palm. If she could maintain the focus, it should be enough to stop the creature that was about to strike again.

"Ha!" Amy released the fire ball, that disappeared mid-air. "Fuck!" She screamed, punching the floor repeatedly. Noticing her frustration, Kano pulled her back to reality.

"There's something wrong," he spoke in all his wisdom of a 500 years old man, in a 5 years old body.

"Not even when I'm mad - and trust me, I'm really mad - I can make this work."

"You won't be able to do this moved only by anger. You need focus and discipline."

"Kano," Amy squeezed the water bottle she held, "we've been training for hours. I can't conjure one decent blast. I'm focused, I'm doing all the meditation exercises you taught me... I just can't. Maybe she drained my powers while I slept."

"It's not that," Kano handed her another water bottle, that she drank all in one sip. "There's something blocking you from reaching your potential."

"What could it be?"

He forced her to face all the nastiest skeletons in her closet for a second time that day. Starting by the childhood trauma caused by her mother's behavior. Though Amy knew the reason behind her rage outbursts, the marks would always be there.

The child version of herself was drawing in the kitchen when her mother entered, completely disturbed.

"Mommy!" She called. "Look what I've made for you."

"Nice," the woman barely looked. She was too busy inspecting the cabinets for her painkillers. "Where are them?"

She swallowed a couple of pills and little Amy's heart filled with hope that her mother would finally be able to give her some attention and love.

"Can we play teacups now? I missed you. You spend the whole day in the bedroom."

"Can't you see it, Amy?" The woman yelled at the child. "I am sick! Why can you just respect me? Why can you just be quiet, huh?!"

As she slammed the bedroom door, the little sat down on the floor breaking into tears.

"What did I do wrong?" She asked herself.

"Nothing," adult Amy sighed at the scene. "You did nothing wrong."

Then they moved to the Opera House. What else could be there to be seen? Amy did both of her crucial decisions - the one where she decided to tempt the fate and avoid the death of one of her friends, becoming a monster in consequence. And the one where she took the dagger. That was the most painful to watch. She had already seen Lily dying in her arms, as Kamilah plunged a stake in her heart to prevent her from becoming a Feral. She also saw Jax, sacrificing himself to die as the warrior he was, not as a disgusting rotting creature.

This time though, it was Adrian who took the fall to save her life...

"Not her! Never her!"

"Adrian!" The past version of herself screamed, kneeling down on the floor near the male vampire. "W-Why did you do this? Y-You didn't have to..."

"Amy..." he clutched the injury in his abdomen. His skin was already acquiring a grey coloration. "I had to. I was the one to bring you to this world in first place. I swore to protect you."

"But..."

"Shhhh, it's okay. I've had a long and accomplished life. I made a lot of mistakes too and somehow I think this how I must pay for them. I... I'm ready to be reunited with Eleanor and Charles."

She glanced at the rest of the group. Lily was sobbing uncontrollably. Jax punched the wall in anger and denial. Kamilah was also kneeled by Adrian's side. She was trying hard to prevent the tears from falling.

"And Amy?" Adrian said, before handing her a stake. "Take care of Kamilah. She needs you."

"No!" Both versions of herself screamed at the same time, as Adrian forced her hand to stake his heart. She collapsed to the floor before they moved to the next memory.

She and Rheya were terrorizing some citizens in New York City. Those who still refused to bend to their orders and obey their every command.

"I condemn you to be my prisoners," Rheya smiled deviously, staring at the small group of people restrained inside a TV station. They secretly planned to leak information about the Apostolous family to other states, including their ability of controlling and manipulating minds. "You can be my servants after all. You could entertain me, feed me... or even fight for me."

Amy emerged from a door in the back. Her hair was a mess and she had bags under her eyes. She was in a terrible mood, what lead her to slowly approach and start to snap the neck of each one of the victims. One by one.

"Foolish creature! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rheya asked, visibly annoyed. "I wasn't going to kill them yet, they could be useful to my purposes."

"Getting things done faster," Amy told. "I'm starving, I'm tired. I can't wait to get home and feed."

"Of course, you spent the whole night out with Serafine, going to clubs and using your psychic powers for recreational purposes. I told you I needed you in shape this morning. You disappoint me."

"I'm sorry, Rheya. You were going to kill them anyways. They're all useless insects, isn't it what you always say?"

"You're right," the First Vampire approached and touched her chest using her indicator finger. "But I give the orders here. We may have the same blood, the same powers powers but I'm in charge. Do you understand?"

Amy was back to the same mindscape as earlier, surrounded by creatures in a forest. She felt angry at herself, yet she accepted it. She embraced the fact she was weak to resist the darkness inside her. It was part of who she had became. And now she wanted to change and make things right.

"I can do this," she closed her eyes, focusing on conjuring a psychic wave strong enough to push the horde of monsters away from her. When she opened them, ready to hit them... nothing happened.

"What?!" She yelled, back at Kano's office. "This time I did it. I faced the Opera memory and how things should have went. I embraced the fact I did horrible things too."

"There must be something else. Something you're refusing to face and let go."

Amy had no idea what it could be. At Kano's suggestion, they ended the training session for the day and she went back to the hotel to rest and reflect on what could be blocking her powers. After a long bath, she stared at the bed. The same bed she and Kamilah shared an intimate moment in the previous night, before she told her about her engagement with Aiko.

She finally turned on her phone. Iola had been trying to reach her all day.

"You need to return home, immediately. She has lost her mind."

"What is it this time?" Amy asked, getting dressed to meet Lily at the penthouse she lived with the rest of the group.

"She wants to-"

"Amy?!" Rheya seemed to have taken the phone from her daughter's hands. "I wanted to speak to you, darling. Are you finished with The Five yet? I need you to come home."

"Why?"

"I've signed a contract with a TV channel. Next week they'll begin to film our own reality show: 'The Apostolous'. Isn't it wonderful?"

No. It wasn't. Together with her insane ancestor and her family, Amy would be locked in the mansion with Priya, Serafine and Dracula, while every detail their daily routine was registered by the cameras and shown on television to the whole world.

"Rheya..." Amy sighed, thinking of some excuse. "Why don't you wait a few more days? I mean, a party with your new allies would be a great start for the reality show. Wouldn't it?"

"You're right," the First Vampire answered after a pause. "I don't know when you've gotten so smart, but you're having some good ideas lately. Anyways, I must start planning our party then. Talk to you later, darling."

Only a lot of alcohol could make Amy relax with all the latest news. When she arrived, Lily was still the only one in the penthouse. Jax, Adrian and Kamilah were doing some personal businesses.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Amy asked, taking a sip directly from the bottle of sake before aiming her next shot at the pool game.

"I was going to," Lily told, observing as she sank three balls in a row. "I couldn't imagine Kamilah would go straight to your bed in the very first night."

As Lily finished her own turn, Amy noticed she was about to win the game. However, she would never be able to make the right move with that one question bothering her mind.

"Does she love her? Aiko?"

"Do you want the honest truth? No, she doesn't. She only got in that sudden relationship with her to forget you. And if you ask me, I bet Aiko is forcing her to get married."

A hint of a smile appeared on the corners of Amy's mouth. She still had a chance. With the right shot, she could win Kamilah's heart back.

"I win," she grinned as she cued the last ball into the pocket.

"Best of three?" Lily asked, after taking a sip of the sake. "So, now tell me about Rheya going all Kardashian."

Amy rolled her eyes in annoyance. She was about to start talking about Rheya's reality show when the penthouse's door opened, making her heart speed up inside her chest.

"Oh," for her disappointment, it wasn't Kamilah. "Hey, Jax."

"Hello, Lily and..." he glared in her direction, clearly uncomfortable with her presence. "You."

"Jax, come here," Lily called, assuming some alcohol and games would be able to seal the peace between them. "Amy was about to tell me about Rheya's latest bullshit."

"Later, Lil. I gotta... I gotta take a shower. I was training with Akeyo all day."

As soon as he left to the bedroom, Amy sighed:

"He'll never forgive me."

Kamilah arrived right after she finished her sentence. She didn't say a word, she walked directly to the bar, serving herself some expensive whiskey.

"We're not allowed to bring visitors," she scolded Lily. "After five years you should know that."

"I asked Adrian first," Amy told in her defense. "He said I could..."

"Oh, Amy. Congratulations on your new show. It's all over the internet. You must be loving the attention, aren't you?"

"Thank you. By the way, for someone who doesn't care care you're way too updated about my life."

There was a heavy tension between them. Years of unresolved feelings and unsaid words were affecting the whole environment surrounding them, like an earthquake.

"I-I..." Noticing that, Lily started walking away too. "You two must have a lot to talk about. I'll be in my bedroom."

Amy still tried to prevent Lily from leaving, but it was useless. She was alone and under Kamilah's hard cold gaze.

"You shouldn't be here," the female vampire said once again.

"Why?" Amy decided to confront her. "My presence is bothering you?"

"Not really, but it put us at risk. She could come here any second searching for her spawn."

"She won't. Besides, I can fight her."

"Oh really? How's the training going by the way?"

"Good," Amy lied. "I'm... I'm finding myself. Finding a balance between my powers and the darkness they can bring."

As if she still could read her, Kamilah raised an eyebrow and opened a small sadistic smile. Was it so obvious she was failing miserably? Did Kano tell the others how poorly the training session had gone? She swallowed dry.

"About yesterday..." Amy opened her mouth to speak, changing the subject. She had to know how Kamilah felt about the other night.

"Nothing happened yesterday," Kamilah nodded.

Before she could speak again, Adrian emerged from the elevator.

"Amy, good to see you here," he wanted to show her something in a secret Raines Corporation HQ he had built. "Come with me."

She gave Kamilah one last look. It wasn't over. She wasn't going to give up and pretend nothing happened between them. She wasn't going to act like the feelings weren't still there, alive and strong as ever.

"What?" Adrian asked with a smile during their way to the building.

"Nothing," Amy smiled back. She had never been so happy to see him. That vision had struck her really hard. "I'm just glad you still trust me."

The building was highly secured. Adrian guided her to the laboratory in the basement. Some scientists were still working late night, on many different projects.

"Only a few people know about our secret weapon," Adrian told while he typed a password on a keypad, opening a heavy metal door. "Only us and The Five. After all, anyone else could have their minds accessed by Rheya."

After walking through a long corridor, they stopped in front of a glass. Behind it, Amy spotted a small growing tree.

"Is it..."

"The Tree Of Death. I managed to obtain a sample and grow a seedling from it. It's still small and young, its sap is not so poisonous. It won't cause much harm yet."

After Demetrius was brought back to life, the Tree Of Death and the island ceased to exist. With that, there was nothing that could stop Rheya. Until now.

"Adrian..." Amy remembered testing her powers, or when Rheya used to grow different plants and flowers in the backyard, according to the occasions. "I can make it grow faster with my powers."

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #rheya apostolous #bloodbound fanfiction #playchoices #choices stories you play #thicker than water

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pickeringawd · 4 years

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night falls like rain

W: explicit sexual content & unprotected sex. WC: 1.5k words. AN: thank u for reading !

Shawn keeps tossing and turning, rousing you from sleep, only to settle back down a few seconds later. He does it again but this time, he also pulls you back against his chest, his skin warm. You figure he needs you pressed against him in order to finally sleep comfortably, so, after a beat or two, you melt into him and drift back to sleep.

You feel his lips touch the skin of your neck and his hand grip your waist. It’s nice so you don’t complain. In all honesty, it doesn’t bother you that he’s being so disruptive. It’s Sunday tomorrow. You’ll have all the time in the world to sleep in with him. You weren’t really sleeping, either. It was one of those dreamless nights.

He circles a hand around your neck, his grip gentle. You whimper. Tilting your head to the side, he kisses the corner of your mouth before further invading your personal space and giving you a proper kiss, your lips immediately parting to allow his tongue to push past. Your tongues lick and explore each other’s mouth with urgency.

Much too soon, he pulls back. You try to chase after his lips but he gently presses down on your neck, releasing his hold only after you’ve settled back down against the pillows. He then lets the same hand travel down your chest, pulling down your camisole so it bunches around your waist, the air kissing your exposed chest. You’d rather he was kissing your chest. He caresses your breasts, his larger hand fondling each one unhurriedly, his lips ghosting over your shoulder. Your chest is heaving up and down, each breath ragged.

Shawn leans in and takes a nipple in his mouth, the latter deliciously warm. He swirls his tongue around it, his hand gripping your other breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. He’s pressing his erection against your ass, his hips moving slowly. Eager, you push back and start grinding against him. You enjoy the quiet noises he makes in response. He gently bites down on your nipple before pressing his tongue flat against it. An insatiable desire to be wrecked by him overpowers you. You can’t wait to be at his mercy and let him have complete control of you and your body.

“Baby,” you whisper. He gives the breast he had in his mouth a final squeeze then hooks his thumb in the waistline of your panties and gently drags them down and off your legs. He runs a hand up and down your bare thigh, leaning in for another kiss. He has you so wrapped up in the kiss, the softness of his lips and the expertise of his tongue as it massages yours, that you completely miss him ridding of his own boxers and lifting up your thigh.

He rubs the tip of his length between your folds at an excruciatingly slow pace. “You’re so wet,” he whispers against your lips. You gasp into his mouth as he presses the head in, his hand flying up to wrap around your neck once again, hooking his arm beneath your knee in the process so that you’re spread open for him. You let out a strangled whine, the room suddenly unbearably hot. He nibbles your bottom lip, the flesh red and swollen, as he pushes in a little further. You’re overwhelmed by the way his cock stretches you out.

His movements still as he lets you adjust, focusing all of his attention on your lips until he’s got you in a trance. Everything blurs around you, Shawn remaining all that is visible. After a few minutes, impatience coupled with desperation settle in and you plead for him to fill you up. So, he does. He pushes his cock in, still slowly, gauging your reaction, until his hips are flush against your ass. You’re reminded of how big he is. You clench around him and he lets out a grunt, his hips bucking reflexively.

He holds himself back, his hips immobile as he showers you with careful attention, pressing gentle kisses all over your face, a sharp contrast to the obscenity displayed moments earlier. You’re putty in his hands by the time he decides to begin thrusting. You melt into him as his cock slides in and out, a string of moans tumbling past your lips.

“You feel so good. So warm and tight.” Heat pools in your gut, your body reacting positively to his words. His lips continue to taste the flushed skin of your face and you notice that he’s studying you, taking every facial expression into account so he knows when he’s hit a sweet spot, then hitting that spot repeatedly. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You never want him to stop.

“Doing so good, baby. Taking my dick so well.” He praises. He picks up speed, fucking into you a little more carelessly. You’re clenching around him more often now, his cock thick as it slides across your walls. The noises coming out of your mouth are incessant and increasing in volume. “I need you to be a good girl and shut the fuck up, baby, okay?” Shawn grits between clenched teeth, his grip tightening around your neck. You whimper, his stern demeanor so incredibly hot. Nevertheless, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from making any more noise. He’d never tell you to be quiet at home. Hotel rooms, however, are different.

You realize it’s impossible to keep quiet. Not when every thrust of his hips sends a jolt of ecstasy through you. So, you turn around, disturbing the rhythm he’d fallen into and drape a leg over his waist, remaining nice and open for him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and feel his hand travel down the length of your back and down the curve of your ass. He raises his hand and brings it down hard on your cheek, the sound sharp as it rings out. A whine startles out of you. Burrowing your face deeper into his neck, the faint smell of cologne and sweat heavenly, you round an arm around him, fingernails scratching red angry lines down his back as he smacks your ass twice more.

He gently caresses the reddened flesh of your cheek then reaches between your bodies to realign himself, groaning as he stretches you open once more. The broken sounds that leave your mouth are muffled by his neck. You press your body flush against his and feel his moans rather than hear them. Mouth latching onto his neck, you suck and bite fresh bruises onto the sensitive skin, admiring the adorning colours.

“Fuck,” he drawls and runs his fingers through your hair before grabbing the side of your face and pressing his mouth sloppily against yours, swallowing your sobs as he fucks you hard and deep. A muffled and incoherent chorus of babybabybaby is all you can utter as your mind blanks, the entirety of your being attuned to the ruthless slamming of his hips. You clench and spasm around him as he pushes you over the edge. Grunting, he maneuvers you on your back and continues to roll his hips into you, burrowing himself much deeper at this angle. You reach out for him and watch as he lowers himself, meeting you halfway, lips locking in a heated and messy kiss. His moaning is a little less inhibited, an indication he’s about to orgasm.

You admire his face, how beautifully wrecked he looks, and can’t help but kiss his rosy cheeks, your fingers combing through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, tugging harshly. His breath hitches and he whines low and long as you do it again.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. He emits an almost animalistic snarl at the base of his throat, gripping your hip and shifting a little so he’s pounding into you, hitting you just right every time. “Your pussy is wrapped so fucking good around my cock, baby,” he pants, huskiness coating his tone. His words travel straight to your core and you lose it, back arching and head falling back in ecstasy as you unravel beneath him. You fist the bedsheets, gasped moans spilling out of your mouth as his thrusts become more erratic, his cock twitching.

“Come inside me.”

“Oh, fuck.” A deep groan rips through his throat and you feel his cock pulsate as he releases his load inside you, warmth spreading through your gut. You rock your hips in unison with his, riding out each other’s high.

He pulls out and slumps against you, holding himself up by his elbows so not to crush you. You’re both breathing audibly, skin glistening under the moon’s glare. Fingers are light as they trail over the line of his shoulder, your heart fluttering as you take him in. His head is resting on your chest and you notice his breathing has slowed. Just like that, he’d fallen asleep. You run your fingers gently through his disheveled curls and focus on the slow rhythmic beating of his heart against you, sleep gripping you soon after.

#me right after posting this: *goes back into hiding*#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #type: smut #type: fluff #title: night falls like rain

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