#imagine those fucking boney hands
Note
been seeing a lot of sanses x reader, so how about something different.
What if the bad sanses and y/n only see eachother as best friends. Like the whole group watch horror movies and give eachother cuddles platonically. The whole group is involved and each person gets along with everyone because Y/N helped with the arguing problems?
So: Y/N sees everyone as a friend, and the Bad sanses see y/n as a friend.
YES! I love this request! (I've had a little too much fun with this 💀) sorry if it's not like how you imagined it, I just played with this idea a bit. It's not every day you see a platonic request.
Masterlist
READER BEING THE BAD SANSES BEST FRIEND (PLATONIC)
(Nightmare, Dust, Killer, Horror, Error)
Safe to say that you were truly in one hell of a ride. Everyday was a rollercoaster with the Bad Sanses. Let's go over some moments together, shall we?
1# The Coffee machine
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
You jolted up awake at the sound of arguing from downstairs. Looks like the boys were roundhousing again..
You groaned as you made your way down the stairs. "Guys? What-" your eyes widened as you saw a chair barely missing your face. Dust turned to you in alarm. "Oh my god.. What are you doing standing there!? Help us!" You blinked when you heard those words, but had no time to say anything as you were pulled by Killer. "OK! OK! Y/N. This is really bad.." you looked at Killer tiredly. "Killer. What did you do?!" Killer flashed you a shocked look, dramatically gasping. "I cannot believe that you just accused me of this horrible tragedy!" "He broke the..coffee machine." Horror snitched on Killer as all the chatter went mute.
Killer slowly turned to Horror. "Horror...you snitch.. why did you have to say it so loudly?" You snorted a little, along with Dust who looked like he could lose it any time soon. "Oh, you're royally fucked Killer." Was your last sentence before going back to bed, as Nightmare dragged Killer.
"AHHH! NIGHTMARE WAIT!!! W-WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS-" He yelled, as he was thrown in the air. "Too late."
2# FAILED SLEEPOVER
You laid in bed as you giggled. "Ok ok..so.. there's this person that I like-" you began, but Killer gasped. "Oh my god! Guys, guys! It's happening!" They all got closer to you, smiling like idiots. "Come on! Who's it? Are they nice??" Dust also nudged you as your cheeks started turning red.
You were about to start blabbering about them, until Nightmare scared the shit out of you all. "Why the fuck are you all up?! Go to sleep! I swear...I won't agree the next time y'all ask me about a sleepover..." You all sighed in annoyance. Damn, does this guy have zero knowledge of what it means to have fun? You laid on your side, closing your eyes, and about to fall asleep, until you felt Nightmare poke you softly. "..tell me about the special person later...I wanna know if they're good enough for you.."
3# Lacking Discipline
You and the boys successfully snuck in Nightmare's room. Tiptoeing towards his bed, along with quiet giggles. "Ok.. remember, we have to be quiet." You nodded at Dust's words, shooting looks at Killer. "Whaaat?" You playfully rolled your eyes at his antics.
You reached forward, and pulled Nightmare's sheets away from his boney face, as you gestured to Dust and Killer. They creepily smiled, holding their red markers.
Killer just finished his last line at Nightmare's mess of a face, when you saw Nightmare stirr in his sleep. It looks like he's about to wake up! You silently gasped, pushing Killer to the floor, and taking Horror's hand in the process.
Killer almost yelled when you shoved him to the floor. "Hey! Dust...!" He flashed him a pleading look, silently asking him for help. Dust just showed him a peace sign and teleported out of the room. "YOU BACKSTABBING BITCHES!!" Killer didn't realized that he raised his voice, out of frustration, until Nightmare stood behind him with a menacing glare.
Your friendship dynamic between them:
Nightmare:
Him: Doesn't want to let anyone get close to him.
You: Got close to him 💀
Dust:
Him: Sunshine protector
You: Sunshine
Killer:
Him: A dumbass
You: Also a dumbass, but smarter
Horror:
Him: Mom (Dad) friend
You: The reckless idiot
Error:
Him: Can't spell
You: Mocks his typos
Incorrect quotes:
1:
Y/N: Between Dust, Error, Nightmare, and Killer -- if you had to -- who would you punch?
Horror: No one! They're my friends. I wouldn't punch any of them.
Y/N: Killer?
Horror: Yeah, but I don't know why.
2:
Y/N: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch.
Cop: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with.
Y/N: Lmao, @Nightmare.
3:
Y/n: They don’t make them like me no more. I’m the last of my kind.
Error: Thank god.
4:
Horror: Good night.
Y/n: Sleep tight.
Dust: Don't let the bedbugs crawl up to your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself.
Nightmare: Great, now Killer's crying.
5:
Dust: I wish I was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a “I can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences” kinda way.
6:
Error: We can't lose. Because we have this. *points to his chest*
Y/N: We have a soul?
Horror: A soul? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.
7:
Y/n: I am going to cry. I’m going to cry until I can no longer physically cry anymore because all the water in my body is gone and I die from dehydration.
Killer: Are you okay?
Dust: Did you actually just ask them that? Like, you need that to be answered otherwise you won’t know?
8:
Dust: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions.
Error: Ridiculous. Give me some examples.
Horror: Wasps?
Nightmare: Terriers?
Killer: Y/n.
9:
Nightmare: You have to apologize to Y/N!
Killer: Fine!
Killer: Unfuck you, or whatever!
10:
Dust: Sometimes I drink milk straight from the container.
Killer: The cow??
Horror: What?
Y/n: Killer, W H Y?
Short Headcanons:
Dust likes to share his notes he made about some Au's with you, because you find it interesting.
Killer goes to you for flirting advice, no matter how good (or bad) your flirts are.
Dust likes to scare you by popping up in front of you. (He likes your reaction)
Horror will steal your food quite frequently.
Nightmare has strictly put up a poster on his office, that's forbidding you to go in.
Error shares his popcorn with you when y'all watch movies.
It takes a long time before your movie night starts, and that's just because you're all arguing on what to watch.
Y'all aren't much up for cuddling, as a group... Aside from Killer and Horror.
I don't know, maybe I'll do part two. I really liked this request by the way. Have a nice day/night!! :D
#undertale fandom#sans undertale#undertale#sans x reader#nightmare sans x reader#dust sans x reader#killer sans x reader#error sans x reader#horror sans x reader
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Hello😊 can I request "[ GRAB ] : impulsively, sender quickly crosses the room to where the receiver is standing, grabs them, and pulls them into a passionate kiss. " with Eddie Munson, please? Thank you🤗
Eddie Munson x Reader
wc: 773
a/n: thank you for requesting!! I hope you like it
“Just one more,” Eddie grumbled against the soft skin of your neck, his face fitting perfectly in the crook. You let out a soft giggle, your legs falling from around his waist, letting them dangle off the edge of the picnic bench.
“We’re going to be late,” you remind him as you put your hands on his strong shoulders and gently push him away from you. His lips detached with a small smack, which only made you want to take it back and have his warm lips against your skin again. “I promised Stacy we’d walk in together.”
Stacy. The sound of her same made Eddie’s skin crawl, it reminded him of nails on a chalkboard and mixed with a terrible cover of his favorite song. “I don’t know why you’re friends with her, sweetheart,” he sighed as he helped you off the table, handing you your backpack that sat next to his. Stacy never liked “the freak”, the snide comments at lunch and empty threats in your ear made you and Eddie keep your relationship a secret. For your sake, he claimed.
Slinging it over your shoulder, you held your hand out and flexed your fingers to signal him to take it which he happily did. “We’ve been friends since fourth grade! And she has influence, Eds. I would be on the yearbook and the paper without her connections,” you groaned.
“You wouldn’t be popular,” he corrected with a sly smile, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles.
You scoffed as you made your way through the woods, slowly passing the large trees for more slivers of time with him. “I’m not popular. I’m just moderately well known by my peers.”
Eddie cackled and pressed you against a tree by the gate, his hands finding your waist. You laughed in return until he kissed you, teeth gently biting your lower lip. “Sounds like popularity to me,” he told you lowly.
“I know she isn’t the best person, but I was the only one who she came to after her nana died. I tolerate her.”
“Tolerate,” he repeated.
“But,” you hummed, reaching up to kiss him one last time., “I love you, Eddie Munson.”
Lunch was stereotypically the best part of the day, the gossip and the small break from the draining teachers made up for the shitty food. The pièce de résistance was watching Eddie from across the room, laughing and smiling with his friends. Your eyes were trained to his ring-clad fingers as he picked up the grapes on the tray, biting your lip as he popped one in his mouth.
“Y/N,” Stacy’s high-pitched voice rang in your ears, her boney elbow nudging your arm.
“What?” you asked, narrowing your brows and coming back to earth.
“Ugh you should really pay attention to this,” she sighed, “We’re trying to see how many of those freaks are virgins.” You turned your attention in the direction of her pink manicured fingernail, Hellfire Club in her sights.
“Why are we assuming?” you whispered.
“Because,” she cackled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“They’re too weird to get girlfriends,” another girl chimed in. Stacy nodded and took a bite of her salad.
“Can you imagine a girl actually being into Munson?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach as she spoke, an angry heat rising to your face. “I bet he picks up the junkies on the outskirts of down. No right-minded girl could ever love him.”
“How can you say that?” You gasped loudly, standing up from your seat. “That’s just cruel.”
Stacy looked up at you and smirked, “Am I wrong?”
She was very wrong and you were tired of hiding, trying to appease people that didn't matter. You didn’t bother answering her, you looked away and caught Eddie’s concerned look. Fuck it. “I can’t be friends with you anymore,” you intoned.
You completely ignored the protests from your table as you walked away, briskly making your way to the other side of the room. Eddie watched your determined expression come closer, he allowed his body to take control and stood up, standing in the middle of the walkaway.
It was all a blur when you stood in front of him, placing your hands on the side of his jaw and kissing him for the whole cafeteria to see. Eddie didn’t protest in the slightest, he deepened the kiss and put his hands in your pack pockets, pulling you closer. You only pulled away when a teacher yelled your names. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
You turned, the bewildered face on your former friend was completely priceless.
#siempre buckys blurb night#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson blurb
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Oooh I wrote another long one. Buckle up folks it's a helluva of a ride (literally).
TW (to be safe): Drowning, a little bit of blood.
Chapter Eleven:
Inferno Part Two Electric Boogaloo.
When we got off the boat I looked around and saw that the cave goes down deeper inside.
“This is your stop ain’t it?” The boat driver asked happily, smiling creepily as his skull showed up, the skin of his face seemed to melt, or at least trade places with his bones.
“Yes, thank you,” The four of us started to walk off, when he blocked our path with his boney arm, “Woah, woah woah, not so fast tiny living creatures!” it happened so fast my gut ran into it. It felt like what I imagine an airbag to your stomach feels.
“Not all of you can go at the same time!”
“Why not?” Like he knew I was going to ask that he opened the floor hatch and took out an emergency raft. “Well, first of all the raft isn’t built—” Before I let him say anymore words I took it, found the plug and started blowing into it.
——————————
Two Hours Later
——————————
After the raft was built, I stopped before my lungs started to give out.
I think I died a couple times during that but that didn’t keep me from blowing it up.
Nile found a fan and started fanning my face, and he’s so sweet and loveable I wanna pinch his cheeks.
….Man, I must’ve lost more air than I thought.
“—Okay then, what I was going to say before you started, all of that, was that the emergency raft can only hold two people at a time.”
“So what do we do then?” Bella asked in my place.
“You take turns, silly organ havers!” I was about to protest, literally everything he just said when he turned around suddenly and picked up a box, “Oops, almost forgot to give you these!” He opened it and there were cloaks and glasses inside, “Here put these on, I’ll explain in just a second!” We did as we were told, although I had to help hold the pants of Nile and help guide him in because he was shaking a really bad, poor guy. Although I did feel a shock again, and I excepted and turned down his apology for something he couldn’t control.
“Shit, shit fuck!” I heard suddenly behind Nile.
“Wait is that-?” Nile asked.
“Yep, it’s Xander.” Bella said and strained to smile.
“Oh, dear.” The skeleton said.
“What now?”
“Young skin wearer, would you mind taking that off for a second?”
“Sure I guess.” Nile did and suddenly the person known as Xander ran behind Agni and said, “Hi Nile, nice to see you again, how’s living?”
“It’s alright, can I put these back on now?”
“Yes, you can, because the parasite is gone now!” The skeleton said. Nile just shrugged at me as I got more disturbed by this whole thing.
“Okay so before I was rudely interrupted by my protege, the cloaks you’re wearing prevent the ghosts from hitchhiking inside of you for a way out, and the glasses let those see the ghosts that can’t.”
“Uh, boss?”
“Yes Parasite?”
“The blonde one can see ghosts.”
“Oh really?” And despite not having eyes the skeleton managed to peak its interest by raising its hairless brow.
“Yeah, but I’m in training still, sometimes I can see them, sometimes I can’t.” Nile said and sheepishly scraped his shoe on the floor.
“Don’t believe a word he says he’s basically a god.” I interjected. Nile’s face got red and he covered his face in his hands.
I stared at the sight longer than I’m willing to admit.
Then the skeleton’s voice broke me out of that trance, “Well, you can keep these as a second option if you really need them.” The skeleton said as I started walking toward the boat, “Wait before you get on the boat you have to sign the waiver.” the skeleton said and handed it to me.
“It just says, ‘if I died during this ride, it isn’t the God of Death’s fault.’” I read from the paper and looked at the skeleton.
“Sorry, it’s company policy, and I know it doesn’t do much good these days, but what can I say, I want to be Skeleton of the Month!” And I signed the waiver to help the guy out.
Look, just because he’s creepy and unnerving, doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve Skeleton of the Month, he’s a really nice guy.
“Okay Susan Storm and Reed Richards, get on the boat.” Bella said and practically shoved us into the raft.
“What about–”
“Nile, I’m fifteen, I’ll be fine.” Bella said and patted his head.
The way she recoiled and said, “Fuck Nile why?!” made my unexplained jealousy about the headpat better. “WAIT A SECOND!!!” Nile said and handed Zoidburg to Xander and quickly went back to the boat.
After Nile said sorry about fifteen times, about the shock and to Zoidburg for leaving him in the hands of Xander, whatever that means, I felt something grab the back of our raft, “You’re about to take a trip on The Ride To Death!” The skeleton said in an announcer voice, “Please keep your arms, legs, hands, feet, and all other fleshy bits inside the ride at all times. Please refrain from standing up during the ride, and remember to have fun!” The skeleton said as they pushed us down the slope I JUST NOW NOTiCED HOLY SHIT I WANT OFF NOW!!!!
I guess it’s too late and I have to accept my fate as I scream all the way down.
“AND NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY, THE GHOSTS HATE THAT!!!” I heard the skeleton call from behind me, the voice sort of echoing and getting farther away as we started going down faster. I noticed we were going, like, fifty miles an hour downhill, and I held onto Nile during the entire duration of that.
Once that stopped I eased up on Nile a bit and was about to apologize when we started going down ANOTHER hill, and clinged onto him once more. I saw several ghosts and the thought of them stealing my body and using me as a meat suit unnerved me so much I hid my face in Nile’s neck to avoid looking at them. Then the raft came to a sudden stop. Then FUCKING LEVITATED SIDEWAYS!!!!
“How much do you want to bet the God of Madness who created this?”
“I WOULD GIVE MY ENTIRE LIVESAVINGS FROM MY HOUSE!!!”
“Don’t do that, you need that for college!” Nile scolded and gave me a worried look.
“I CAN’T GO IF I’M DE—” The sheer force of us going backwards cut me off abruptly.
And that’s when I knew we were drowning.
——————————
When Nile’s lungs finally got some air, did he ever mention how much he loves them and how grateful he is that they haven’t been taken yet, and looked around him he noticed that they were no longer underwater, and were moving at a relaxing pace.
It freaked Nile out even more and gave him an unwanted paranoia about water coasters as a whole.
Jake noticed his tight hold on Nile and apologized as he removed his arms from Nile and noticed the indents he made on Nile’s arms, a dark ooze seeping through the black hoodie.
“FUck, let me help you.” Before Nile could protest Jake took his hoodie off.
……
……
……
…..and then sees the fuckin’ stab wound, that’s where the blood was coming from.
“Nile—”
“Hey, it happened a while ago it’s getting better!” Nile tried to stand but Jake gave him a look that told him if he gets up he won’t have legs. When he finally settled and got comfortable Jake opened his dufflebag and cleaned and put a gauze pad over the wound.
“Why do you have a stab wound?”
“Because that loveable dumbass got in the way of a knife.” Nile turned around to see an average looking ghost. And his heart panged at seeing such a familiar face.
Nile’s trying not to cry.
“Hey, I was trying to help you.” Nile said and looked away from both of them.
“You also almost got trapped inside of a death portal.”
“What?”
“Hey you did too!”
“What?!”
“You haven’t explained to him anything that happened?” Nile looked sadly at the water below.
“I just didn’t want Jake to hate them, that’s all.”
“Nile,” The person sighed, “I know they’re better than they once were, Garrison definitely helped. But you can’t ignore what they’ve done, you just can’t.”
“But Thomas I–”
“Look, I’m not asking for revenge, I’ve moved on completely and have no need for revenge, but there are some things about a person you can’t forget Nile, they did some not great things to people, but I believe it is possible to move on, without forgetting where you came from. Nile, just know that you’re not hurting anybody by moving on I promise.” And then Thomas just disappeared.
——————————
Nile burst into tears beside me while I tried to breathe and get air into my lungs, and when I finally had enough air to speak, “Hey, Nile what’s wrong, what happened?” I worried about how much air he got and if he was using it all already. All I heard from him was, “I’m sorry Thomas, I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back soothingly and let him cling to me. When he finally stopped crying I asked him the same question again.
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you aren’t going to like it.”
——————————
All I managed to do afterward was hug Nile even more.
My poor boy.
“So we’re not allowed to hang out in a coffee shop huh?” I tried to joke and luckily he laughed and I didn’t have to drown myself again because I made him cry.
He did harshly punch me in the arm however, which is fair.
“Hey, you lost your glasses.” Nile pointed out.
I put my hand on my face to search for them, “Huh, guess I did.”
Nile suddenly smiled and rested his head tiredly on my shoulder, “You don’t hate them do you?”
I’m not gonna lie, it took me a while to answer this question for myself, “No, I don’t think I do at least. I hate the one lady for sure, but everyone else was relatively fine.” I paused to find my next words, “Although, using someone’s boyfriend as bait isn’t a good thing Nile.”
“I THOUGHT THAT ASSHOLE WOULD’VE TOLD HIM SOMETHING REGARDING THE PLAN, I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS GOING IN BLIND!!!!”
“I know, just teasin’ ya.” I said and nudged him with my shoulder, “I also don’t want you to give me rat poison to try and be better friends with me either.” Nile’s face got red and he put his face in his hands and groaned, and I thought he’d been through enough already so I’ll stop teasing him for now.
The whole boat ride to the shore there was a comforting silence, probably I have no idea how many ghosts there could be around, with me and Nile’s hands almost touching.
——————————
@computerglitch306 here's some angst @shadie-cat fuck Xander
#pls humor me#some writing#pls read#sus agni moments#sus xander moments#smh man#he he funky skeleton guy#gay#poor Zoidburg
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For the fantasy meme
Mathias and Tancred going for a walk in the woods and having a little fun where no one would see them
Send my muse a fantasy | @mxrvelouscreations
He’d had a rough day. Between getting caught in the middle of yet another inter-coven fight, nearly losing Jett because of it, and then having to go about his day in town like nothing happened, Tancred was in dire need of an escape. The perks of having such a vivid imagination were innumerable, but it was especially useful in situations like this. His mind carried him far away, to a crisp, cool forest, not like the one that enveloped the outskirts of town, but further north. A memory so distant that anyone else might have forgotten it. He was back in Salem. His first home. The place where he’d lived out the majority of his life, where he’d met and seduced his first love, and where he’d nearly…never mind that.
In his mind, he still wore his preferred modern attire. Cruised down the forest paths, hand in hand with someone. Strong. Loving. Protective. He knew those hands. Knowing that Matthias was walking with him brought a smile to his face, especially when he briefly considered what else such a beautiful man could be doing alone in a forest with him.
As if answering his question, his fantasy flashed forward. They had stopped to set up a picnic under an all too familiar tree and eaten their fill, and after some very heavy flirting, things had gotten heated. Matthias had him pinned up against the wide oak, gripping his thighs has he began to grind up against his hips. Tancred held onto him for dear life, losing himself in the friction and the barrage of rough kisses. He was impatient, though. Desperate to have his lover inside him. Boney fingers began to fumble with removing clothing, and Matthias echoed his movements. He was just as eager to undress as his little witch was, hastily stripping before aiding Tancred in doing the same. Then his strong grip returned, this time with one hand pressed up against his lovely witch’s throat. Perhaps they weren’t usually so rough in reality, but this was how Tancred wanted it. How he needed it. Before long, he had Matthias plowing him into oblivion, filling the otherwise silent forest with his loudest moans, whines, and screams of hedonistic delight.
He snapped out of his fantasy perhaps a bit too late, his tears having dried on his face and his member too hard to ignore. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away. Thank fuck he’d already warded his room…he didn’t want to stay here, though. Not tonight. With that in mind, he grabbed what supplies he needed and made his way to the bathroom for a shower, but not before shooting off a quick text to his love.
[text]{M~💜} - Missing you, darling. Think we could meet up tonight?
#🎃black cat✨ c; tancred#🎃witch out of time✨ v; main/modern#🎃sparkling temptations✨ wants and desires#tancred x matthias#mxrvelouscreations
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My friend wanted me to write a story based on the prompt:
“Jimmy Neutron opened the door of his house to find a 23 year old monkey with type II diabetes and parkinsons to jump out of a light buld and eat his face.”
I have never watched Jimmy neutron, so with the help of fandom.com and my overactive imagination, I created;
Jimmy‘s New Neighbor Must Suffer
By @ayaayeposts
Cw/Tw:
Dead dove don’t eat, experimentation, animal cruelty, unethical experiments, animal death, slight torture, needles, narcissism, violence onto children, animal attack, mauling, heavy descriptions of gore.
..And all that Jazz
Enjoy!
When Jimmy Neutron’s dad told him they were getting a new neighbor, Jimmy didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, a new person to impress with his genius was always a bonus, but on the other hand, what if his new neighbor was some kind of freak?
“Jimmy, if your neighbor’s a freak, you can just turn him into a llama or something, right?” Carl Wheezer, one of Jimmy’s best friends, stated, stuffing his mouth full of goldfish as he walked through the halls of their school.
“Theoretically, it should be possible, using the basic mechanics of theoretical molecular biology, but the ethics science board would never let me get away with it! Those people are watching hawks when it comes to possibly unethical experiments. Trust me, I’m already on two warnings and three Geneva violations!”
Johnny took a long breath. “In simple terms, no.” Carl blinked. “You broke ethical laws-?”
“Anyway- my Mom is making us invite him over.” Jimmy said, completely ignoring the question of his morality by one of his best friends. “Any advice?”
“Uh- Don’t eat anything with dairy? It makes my stomach hurt..” Carl’s weak immune system was clearly the result of years of inbreeding and horrible genetics. Of course, Jimmy would never say this. To his face at least.
“Right- my genes don’t allow for problems such as those- but I’ll keep it in mind Carl.” With that, Jimmy Neutron zoned out for the rest of the school day, until he was finally home.
——— =+=————
That afternoon, Jimmy waited anxiously for the arrival of his neighbor- and low and behold; at exactly 5:30, a short, hairy man knocked on the door. Jimmy’s Mom let him in and Jimmy daydreamed of finally escaping the watchful eye of the government and having the freedom to create a real life saw game.
Through the tidbits of conversation that Jimmy couldn’t block out, he learned the man was twenty-three years of age, had type two diabetes, and that his short boney body contained Parkinson’s disease.
Everything was going fine, until at exactly 6:38 pm, when Jimmy’s new neighbor, Macbeth, who even names their child Macbeth, excused himself to the bathroom. Jimmy followed, grabbing a baseball bat in the hallway, in case this absolute stranger decided to rob the place.
Crunch
Jimmy looked down in horror as he watched this complete fucking idiot not watch his step, and crush his robo-dog Godard to peices in a single step.
He’s done did it now…
Holding back his tears, Jimmy raised his baseball bat above his head, and swung down onto the back of Macbeth’s head.
——— =+=————
Three hours later, Macbeth finally, much to Jimmy’s excitement, awoke, strapped to a chair in Jimmy’s room.
“Oh, you’re awake! Lovely.” Jimmy said with a smile, putting on his goggles in the dimly lit bedroom. His lab coat flowed in the wind as his room fan spun, making a loud droning noise, making the room all the more eerie.
“Mmfgh- mmfgh? Mffffgh-!” Panicked muffled noises escaped Macbeth’s mouth, as he struggled with his restraints, the gag around his mouth muffling every noise he could have made.
“Frankly, you don’t deserve to have closure, so I won’t tell you why I’m doing this. But I will tell you this, since you were so fucking stupid, enough to do what you did, I figured you should look just as you are.” Jimmy pulled up his surgical mask.
His face was covered completely now, the dim lights in the room creating a shine on his goggles, enough to cover his eyes, making the lack of visible emotion in this child all the more disturbing.
“Honestly, you’re as stupid as an animal, so why don’t I turn you into one? Enjoy life as an ape, won’t you?” Jimmy raised a large needle, filled with a radioactive purple substance, and without hesitation, plunged it into Macbeth’s thigh.
If he screamed, there was no one to hear it.
——— =+=————
The next day Jimmy woke up refreshed. He brushed his teeth, got ready for school, and ate breakfast.
After Macbeth had made his marvelous transformation last night, Jimmy threw him onto the street, hoping he’d get picked up by a zoo.
Jimmy opened his door, backpack slung against his shoulder- and wait…
Was that a giant bud light can in front of his house? Jimmy squinted and took a step closer. Then-
Thud!
Something sprung out of the can, at rapid speeds, tackling Jimmy to the ground.
He groaned as his head hit the floor, but before he could take a breath, a searing pain tore through his chest, as something- or someone landed on top of him, digging what felt like sharp claws into his body.
Suddenly, before Jimmy could even register what was happening, a finger dug into his mouth, pulling painfully on the skin around his mouth - until suddenly, a chunk of his own cheek came off with a horrible tearing sound.
Jimmy screamed, as white-hot searing pain burst across his face, the squelch of his cheek landing a few feet away giving him an absolute sick feeling.
Warm, sticky blood poured to the ground in what seemed like record amounts, feeling devastatingly sweaty and terribly cold all at the same moment. Drenched in the horrible weight of blood-soaked skin and clothing, Jimmy would have thrown up if he could focus on anything other than the repeated sensations of skin being torn from his body.
Jimmy struggled in vain- panicking, growing more and more desperate to escape by the second, writhing and wrestling around on the ground with the creature on top of him.
His breath came out in deep, fast breaths, as his throat struggled to get ahold of the oxygen in the air. Blood poured out of his mouth and noise, turning his breaths into pitiful wheezes- it felt like he was suffocating on his own blood.
Oh god- he couldn’t breathe-
Every gaspful of air brought a blinding burst of pain into Jimmy’s body, and the air was struggling to get to his lungs, obstructed by the sheer amounts of blood he was coughing up. His vision went blurry, and he could see black spots all around him.
Through all of this, the creature had never stopped attacking, ripping this boy apart from inside out.
It was the most brutal attack reported on the news for a very long time.
Rumors still go around to this day about the malformed chimpanzee who sent a promising young boy into life support for the rest of his life. And who knows? Maybe it’s still out there?
Macbeth the chimp.
Thanks for reading?
Idk why I said yes…
#jimmy neutron#fanfic#fanfiction#fandom#writing#cw: gore#shitpost#why did i write this#uhhhh#chimpanzee#experimentation#mutation#dead dove do not eat#animal attack
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-- WARM BODIES || teaser
pairing: zombie!park jisung x afab reader
featuring: nct and more
tags: oneshot, zombie au!, romance, comedy , angst, smut horror , suggestive / mature content . MDNI !
disclaimer: all my works are solely fiction and entirely brought by my imagination ( or inspired by movies, songs,etc.. ), it doesn't relate to the real lives of the idols mentioned. any similarities to other works are purely coincidental. i do not allow anyone to repost or translate my works.
inspired by : warm bodies ( 2013 )
summary: after a highly unusual zombie saves a still-living girl from an attack, the two form an unusual relationship that sets in motion events that might transform the entire lifeless world . caught between the paranoid human forces and the ferocious "Bonies", zombies who are a mutual threat, they must find a way to bridge the differences of each side to fight for a better world no one thought possible.
warnings: rated r for language, horror , smut , angst, romance, character deaths(!) , zombie violence, a character pulls the skin off his face(!). if any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read!
word count : 935
taglist : @sunooscheeks @sunoobabie @leeknow-knows @legbouk @jaeminslut @succubus-moon @itzz-me-duh @nishmrriki
[ teaser | full fic ]
Jisung' s pov
my eyes flash open and I stand up, pushing dripping branches out of my face. it's still night time an the rain is still pummelling the earth. i step out of the trees and climb up onto the overpass, leaning against the railing, i look out at the empty freeway and the dark horizon beyond it. one thought pounds in my head like a migraine of rage: you're wrong. you fucking monsters are wrong. about everything.
out of the corner of my eye, i notice a silhouette on the other side of the overpass. the dark form moves towards me with slow and steady, lumbering steps. i hunch my muscles together, preparing for a fight. after wandering alone for way too long, the unincorporated Dead will sometimes lose the ability to distinguish their own kind from the Living.
and some are so far gone, so deep into this way of life, they just don't care either way. they'll eat anyone, anything, anywhere, because they can't fathom any other way to interact. i imagine one of these creatures surprising her as she stops the Mercedes to get her bearings, wrapping filthy hands around her face and biting down on her neck, and as that image ferments in my head, i prepare myself to tear this thing in front of me to shreds. the primordial rage that fills me every time I think of someone harming her is terrifying. the violence of just killing and eating people feels like friendly teasing compared to this consuming bloodlust.
the towering shadow staggers closer and closer. a flash of lightning finally illuminates its face, and i drop my arms to my sides.
'C?' i almost fail to recognise him at first. his face , torn and clawed, and there are several small chunks bitten out of his body.
'hey,' he grunts. the rain streaks down his face and pools in his wounds. 'let's . . . get out of . . . rain.' he walks past my leaky trees and climbs down the slope to the freeway below. i follow him to the dry space under the overpass. we huddle there in the dirt, surrounded by old beer cans, syringes and other random trash.
'what . . . are you . . . doing . . . out . . . out here?' i ask him, fighting for the words. i've been silent less than a day and i'm already so damn rusty.
'take . . . guess,' C says, pointing at his face, his wounds to be exact. 'Boneys...drove me out.'
'sorry.' i really am, i never wanted any of these to happen.
C grunts. 'fuck . . . it.' he kicks a random empty beer can. 'but guess . . . what?' something like a small grin illuminates his mangled face. 'some . . . came with me.'
he points down the freeway, and I see a few oher figures moving towards us, in those familiar slow, lumbering steps.
i look at C, confused. 'came . . . with? why?'
he shrugs. 'things . . . crazy . . . back home. toutines . . . shook.' he jabs a finger on the side of my head. 'you.'
'me?'
'you and . . . her. something . . . in air. movement.'
the group of the Dead stop under the overpass and stand there, looking at us blankly.
'hi,' i say. they sway and groan a little in response. one of them nods.
'where's . . . girl?' C asks me.
'her name is y/n.' this comes off my tongue fluidly, like a swish of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.
'y/ . . . n,' C stammers, then repeats with some effort. 'her! where is . . . she?'
'left. went home.'
C studies my face closely. he drops a hand onto my shoulder. 'you . . . okay?'
i close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath. 'no.' i look out at the freeway, towards the city, and something blooms in my head. first a feeling, then a thought, then... a choice. 'i am going after her.'
five syllables, which i said fluidly once again. i have broken my record once again.
'to . . . stadium?' he asks a little warily,and i just nod.
'why?' his eyebrows furrowed and he looks at me as if he's confused .'to . . . save her.' i replied after a brief thought.
'from . . . what?'
'ev . . . rything.'
C just looks at me for a long time. among the Dead, a piercing look can last several minutes, even up to hours. i wonder if he can possibly have any idea what I'm talking about, when I'm not even sure i do. its just a gut feeling. the soft pink zygote of a plan. a plan that's most likely not well-thought.
he gazes up at the sky, and a faraway, kind of melancholic look into his eyes. 'had . . . dream . . . last night. real dream. real memories.'
i stare at him 'remembered . . . when young. summer. my . . . name. a girl.' his eyes refocus on me. 'what . . . is it like?'
'what?' i give him a dazed look of bewilderment, not really getting what he's talking about.
'you've . . . felt it. you know . . . what it is?'
'what are . . . talking about?'
'my dream,' he says, his face full of wonder, i'd say. 'those things . . .like love?'
a shiver runs up my spine. what is happening? C is actually dreaming, reclaiming memories, asking these astonishing questions. i am breaking my syllable records day by day?
a fresh canvas is spread out in front of us. what do we paint on it? what's the first hue to splash on this blank field of grey?
'i'll . . . go with,' C says. 'i'll help you . . . save girl.' he turns to the waiting Dead. 'help us?' he asks, not raising his voice above its easy rumble. 'help save . . . girl? save . . .' he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. 'y/ . . . n?'
they sway and groan in response, as a couple of them warily nod.
" let's...fucking do it "
#kpop#nct#nct imagines#nct smut#nct x reader#nct maknae#nct jisung#nct park jisung#park jisung zombie au!#park jisung one shot#park jisung smut#park jisung imagines#park jisung#nct hyung line#nct maknae line#nct dream jisung#nct dream#nct dream imagines
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omg...but imagine sex with nagito on the beach 👀
ミ☆ Consider it imagined ;)
Word Count: 2419
Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, Explicit sexual content, a little angst but not heaps
Read on AO3
“I think I want to kiss you.”
Komaeda stiffens beside you. The gentle rise and fall of his bare chest ceases entirely as he holds his breath. His hair has just started to dry again after your swim, the ends are beginning to curl but the majority of the strands still lack their usual volume. It makes him look smaller, more vulnerable.
You can’t help but wonder if it was genuine happenstance that you caught him in the ocean tonight, or if his luck had a hand in it. Thinking about his luck too much always stresses you out, would seeing him standing waist deep in the water - droplets running down his bare skin and glinting the perfect moonlight - be considered good luck or bad? Did he curse his talent in that moment, or did he see the adoration in your eyes, the way your breath caught at the sight of him, and praise it.
You hear Komaeda laugh, a familiar sound. Pleasant, but altogether fake, like a strawberry milkshake with too much syrup, “I will admit, that was quite a funny joke, if a little hurtful.” he looks at you from the corner of his eye, “Though i cannot rightly criticise you for making jokes at my expense, there is little else i am good for.”
It hurts that he thinks you would make such a cruel joke. It hurts that he doesn't have it in him to believe it.
The wind rushes by and you shiver. Even though you are mostly dry after your brief stint in the ocean, the cool air still makes your skin prickle. Komaeda’s jacket is spread out on the sand beneath the both of you, a gesture that is likely more intimate than he intended for it to be. You worry, frequently, that for all Komaeda’s posturing about talent and hope, that maybe you still don't fit the bill. That you may be worthy of his worship, but fall short of being worthy of his love.
“I wasn't joking.”
Komaeda chokes on what might have been a laugh before it died in the back of his throat. You can hear him shifting slightly, his hands clawing nervously at the jacket beneath him. Again you can't help but wonder, if this moment is good luck, or bad. The sound of your heart is so loud in your ears, and your hands are shaking so furiously that you are surprised the stars in the sky haven't all imploded. The moment feels big enough.
You hear a little more movement beside you, clenching your muscles in a bid to keep still, like even the slightest twitch from you will scare Komaeda away like some frightened animal. Ridiculous, Komaeda doesn't scare easily.
“I won’t stop you.” he whispers, you turn your head just enough to look at him. He’s rolled over onto his side, his slowly drying hair cascading down over his shoulder, pale eyes glinting in the moonlight. Your heart is hammering at your ribs.
You wet your lips with your tongue, and follow his lead, rolling onto your side and carefully examining his face. His eyelashes are really pretty, and they’re faint, but at this proximity you can see a small smattering of freckles across his nose. Like constellations on a cloudy night.
His lips taste like salt when yours press against them, chapped but soft and undeniably gentle. You shiver with more than just the cold when you dart your tongue out just a little, and he readily opens his mouth to accept it. He lets you explore the inside of his mouth, the sharp ridges of his teeth, the underside of his tongue; a moan cuts loose from your mouth and you tangle one of your hands in the back of his hair. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek and you almost sob.
“I want to do more than kiss you.”
His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, and your eyes meet his. He blinks slowly down at you, contemplative but hungry, “Again, if that is truly what you want. I won't stop you.”
There's a heavy weight in your chest at those words, at his assertion that you could have your way with him, but not a single shred of genuine reciprocation. You are ashamed of how weak your voice sounds when you whisper, “Do you...actually want to? Or are you just letting me because I want to?”
Komaeda’s head cocks to the side, “I don't understand why the distinction matters.”
“I’m not just chasing some momentary desire, Komaeda.” you laugh bitterly, “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones.”
He stiffens for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There's an icy chill down your spine as you prepare for his rejection. He loves everything about you, but he doesn't love you.
Unannounced, Komaeda swings his leg over your hips and rolls you onto your back. Looming over you with a smile that actually reaches his eyes. You can count how many times you have seen that on one hand, but here he is, grinning down at you with an indescribable warmth that you feel from your chest all the way down to your toes.
“I was more than happy to be used for your pleasure.” He breathes, eyes turning misty as they meet yours, “To be able to touch you for just one moment, but this...this.” a breathless laugh escapes him, shaking his boney shoulders, “for you to return my feelings...the bad luck around the corner must be immeasurable, but im…” he heaves a shaky breath, “im so happy.”
His feelings. His feelings. The words vibrate around your head as you struggle to even comprehend them. He has feelings for you. Nagito Komaeda is leaning over you, pale hair lit up by the moon eclipsed by his head. Bathing him in a halo of white light. He looks angelic, and he has feelings for you.
“I want you.” You breathe, “Please, Nagito.”
His breath hitches at the sound of his first name dropping from your mouth. So unbelievably intimate, so tender. He tilts his head down, and slots his lips against yours. This time his hands waste little time before wandering across your skin, the bathing suit you picked up from the supermarket hides little, and you feel your flesh buzz as his hands pass over it. In the end, his palm sits comfortably in the curve of your waist and his other hand is planted beside your head to keep his balance. The salt in his mouth is slowly dissipating, giving way to a taste that must only be him. Your arms twist around his back, tracing the bumps of his protruding vertebrae, dancing across his fragile skin.
Your tongue slips into his mouth and you feel his hips twitch. With only the layers of your bathing suits to separate your skin, you can feel his growing hardness very prominently. You buck your hips upward to feel it again, and Komaeda instinctively bites down on your lower lip.
“Oh no. Did I hurt you?” He whispers, pulling back and brushing across your lower lip with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, though I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as worthless as myself would cause you pain.” You feel him start to move, “I should go-“
In a feat of strength that surprises even you, Komaeda is now pinned underneath you, arms pushed backwards onto the jacket atop the sand and wrists gripped tight in your shaking hands.
“Don’t go.” You press a hot kiss to the side of his throat, “You didn’t hurt me. I liked it.” You graze his neck with your teeth and he quakes below you, “I don’t want to stop unless you do.”
His breathing is shaky, his thin body quivering so much that you're almost surprised you can’t hear his bones rattling, “I don’t...I can’t stop. If you could read my perverse thoughts right now, you would be disgusted by what you would find.”
You laugh, releasing his arms and running your fingers down his chest, “Doubtful. I think if anything I’ll find that your thoughts mirror my own.”
Komaeda squeaks when you pull one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking gently, you run your knuckles up and down the side of his ribs. Smiling when you can hear his heart race, “Such a pretty boy.” You whisper, circling his nipple with your tongue. His hips stutter upward to meet yours, he seems to like it when you whine.
“I...I…” Komaeda’s throat bobs, “I’m not doing anything...I should be worshipping you, but I’m just lying here…”
“Shh, Nagito.” You breath, grinding your hips down on his, gentle enough that he can only just feel it, “I like doing this to you, I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”
“You...you’ve also been thinking about it?”
“Thinking, among other things.”
Komaeda barks a laugh, covering the lower half of his face with a hand, “Are you implying, that all those nights I fucked my pathetic hand thinking only of you, that you were-“
“Three cabins down, thinking about you?” You giggle, dragging your tongue up his collarbone, “That sounds about right.”
“I must be dreaming…” he whispers, looking past you and up at the sky, “it looks like the constellations are caught in your hair.” His shaky hand comes up and cups your cheek, “I don’t want to wake up.”
You smile, gently working his swim shorts down over his narrow hips, “Then don’t.”
He pushes himself up on his elbows, pretty face turning nervous as he is suddenly naked in the open air, though he isn't alone for long. He watches in awe as you toss your swimsuit off into the sand somewhere, eyes wide and watery as they trace the curves and angles of your body. His hips dig into your thighs when you position yourself on top of him, hands pressed gently on his chest, worried that his birdcage ribs might shatter if you put too much weight on them. You can feel his heart racing under your palms, fragile, perfect, beautiful boy. He is shaking under you, pale skin shining in the light of the moon. You lose your breath, completely enamoured with him, with his big green eyes, the mess of his hair, his collarbones so sharp that you swear you could cut yourself on them.
“I haven't done this before.”
Komaeda’s breathless silence is filled only with the ebb and flow of the ocean behind you, with the salt in the air and the stars in the sky. He sits up a little, arms shaking under his weight as he holds himself at eye level with you. He takes in a wheezy breath, one side of his mouth quirking up in a familiar nervous smile.
“You don't have to.” He whispers, “I...I’ll only disappoint you.”
It only takes a gentle push to his chest for him to fall backward onto the sand. Blinking up at you with wide eyes as you slowly start to lower yourself down onto him, “You could never disappoint me” you breathe, and then he is inside of you.
Just where he belongs.
The prettiest moan you have ever heard rips loose from his throat, his head tossed backward onto the sand and eyes scrunched shut. He is twitching inside of you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he isn't sure what to do with them. You lift yourself up just a little, and he almost sobs when you drop back down again. It feels good, you feel full. There's a twisting in your gut that tells you to just move, just move. You aren't sure how much longer you can resist it.
Komaeda is in a similar state. You are so warm, so tight, so perfect. He can feel his hips twitching with a desire to just give in, to pump himself as deep inside of you as possible. It’s pathetic, it’s selfish, but he wants you to be his. He wants to be so far inside that you can't pull him out again, he would do anything to be here forever. Completely naked, out in the open, in the middle of the night with you writhing on top of him. Your face twists in absolute pleasure, and he can't help lording over it. Over the fact that he is doing this to you.
Then, you moan again. Head lolling backwards as the guttural moan morphs into the syllables of his name.
He can’t hold back anymore. His hands snap up to your hips, digging in tight enough that your eyes open in shock, and he pushes his hips as far up as they will go. You call out his name again and it is all he can hear, hips snapping up again and again, dragging more perfect noises from your mouth and letting out moans of his own everytime he hears you say his name.
Your eyes drift down to his, letting out a sweet little whimper as he hits a spot inside of you that sets your insides boiling. Your nails dig tight into the taught flesh pulled across his ribs, turning his pale skin a bright red, your own hips meeting his every thrust with a desire to have him deeper, to have him faster. He throws his head back in a breathless laugh that almost sounds like a sob when he feels you clench around him, you’re perfect, you’re real and you’re so fucking tight.
You don't even have time to warn him before you topple over the edge, the world flashes white behind your eyes as your walls twitch around Komaeda’s desperate cock. He lets out a rattling breath, so close, so close, so close-
“Nagito” You breathe, “cum inside of me, please.”
He feels like he is going to explode, in more ways than one when he shoves himself up into you one last time, finally cumming with a high-strung moan that sounds suspiciously like a declaration of love.
Then, all is quiet again. The ocean breeze is your only company as the two of you come back down. At some point the jacket slipped out from under Komaeda, and now his messy hair is tangled with sand. You reach down and try to comb some of it out with your fingers, he nuzzles into your palm. Content.
You smile down at him.
“I love you too.”
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The Late Shift
Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader
Words: 2k
Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.
Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.
*
It was going to be a long night.
Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.
You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.
“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”
Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.
A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.
The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.
“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.
“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”
Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”
He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”
“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”
Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”
Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.
“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.
“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”
Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”
“Not an option in my case.”
Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.
You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”
He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.
There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.
Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.
You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.
He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”
After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.
The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”
Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”
Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”
“You mean taking it to be tailored?”
“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”
“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.
“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”
His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."
You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.
There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.
No. This was so inappropriate.
The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.
“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”
You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”
The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”
Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”
In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.
Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”
His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”
You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.
“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”
An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”
“That works for me.”
Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”
Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.
It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.
You’d sent this message straight to Paul.
Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.
While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.
Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs
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I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)
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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years.
A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Content Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 4.5k
“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”
Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”
“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”
“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”
Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”
“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.
You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.
There goes my deposit.
You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.
The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.
You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.
“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”
Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?
He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.
“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”
You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.
“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”
Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”
You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.
“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”
Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.
“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.
By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.
“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”
Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.
“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”
Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.
“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”
Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.
The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.
“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”
Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”
All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.
“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”
You flash Damien a nervous smile.
“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”
Damien snorts and pushes open the door.
“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”
As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.
“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”
You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.
“Believe me, she tried.”
Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.
“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”
Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”
Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.
“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”
“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”
Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.
“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.
“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.
Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.
“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”
A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.
“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”
Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.
“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”
Salt, meet wound.
“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.
“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.
The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.
Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.
You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.
“I should probably take this – it might be work.”
Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”
You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”
An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”
Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.
“Hi, mom.”
“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”
You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.
You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.
“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”
“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”
You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”
“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”
“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”
You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.
“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “
You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”
“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”
“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.
“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.
You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”
A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.
Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.
He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.
--
Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.
You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.
Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.
Spencer positively abhors the thought.
The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.
The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.
“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”
Fucking ouch.
Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?
He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.
Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.
The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.
“Hi.”
Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.
“Hi.”
More silence. Spencer gulps.
“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”
It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?
Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.
“It certainly has.”
“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?
Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”
Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.
“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.
Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”
It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.
“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.
You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.
Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.
Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.
You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.
“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.
Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”
He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.
The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.
“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”
All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.
“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”
The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.
“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –
Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.
“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.
Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”
You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.
The book feels heavy in his hands.
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HEADCANNONS
KINKS & FETISHES part two
goodiebage WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, noncon/dubcon, arson, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, mind control, narcissism, sadism, slavery, torture
PART ONE
YANDERE ! KATSUKI BAKUGO - KACHAN
POWERPLAY
It’s been said before and it will continue to be preached until the end of time: Katsuki is a full-blown narcissist, and he loves making his dominance excruciatingly clear. He rarely uses any form of bondage, enjoying being the sole reason his darling stays in her place. Hand around her throat, squeezing that weak windpipe, forcing those precious sweet squeaks from her throat, feeling them simmer against his palm. Capturing her tiny delicate wrists between his fingers, squishing until bones pop and she swears in spluttering whines that he’s snapped and broken something. His knee digging into the doughy flesh of her thigh, causing sharp tickling pain to shoot straight through her flesh, all in an exaggerated effort at keeping her beneath him.
He’ll be degrading, especially in a suggestive way. His entire bone-crushing weight pressing down into her, constricting and controlling what air gets to pass down to her lungs, while he knowingly asks her how good it feels when she begins to clamp down around the girth of his cock, feeling her warm wet walls convulse and spasm each time he pumps his sopping swollen tip into the spongey feel of her cervix. Teasing, taunting and mocking words flying along with spit through his grit teeth onto her face, as the tab of his thumb rubs tight circles onto the bead of her clit. Anything resembling self-control can be written off as a cruel joke, when they both know her entire composure is at his mercy. Reduced to simply stimuli and response at his fingers, her reactions on his beck and call.
YANDERE ! DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA
BEGGING KINK
He wants to see her kneel, he wants to see her crawl, he wants to hold that perfect little face between his palms and make her shiver and quake at the feel of his warming hands, threatening to mar her soft and supple skin up until it’s nothing but tough purple leather like him, with no hope of healing. He wants to see her cry, he wants it loud as though her sobs could shatter glass, he wants it ugly as though no one could look at her and call her beautiful except for him. He wants all of it as his studded cockhead pokes at her inside, all the while where he pounds into her ruthlessly and savagely, hearing her feeble broken pleas tremor beneath the palm he’s placed wrapped deadly around her throat, fingers bending and plunging into her delicate neck.
Then he wants to show mercy, he wants to glide his lanky boney fingers through her soft hair, hush and coo at her to quit her sniveling and shaking. He’ll have her on his chest, listening to her mumble out sweet forms of gratitude and other soft-tinted apologies. Her lips admiring his piercings, laying worship on them as though praying at an altar. Finding utter unlocking blissful satisfaction, as though some war has been won, at the fact that she’ll never be able to leave him, because he’s made the idea of leaving him seem like death in her brittle mind, not because he would hunt her down, but because she cannot hope to live without him.
YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA
FOOT FETISH
Just look at them. So dainty and petite compared to his, so small compared to anything, fitting so perfectly in his hand, soft skin in contrast to his dry toughened and calloused hands. And so very sensitive and ticklish, both beneath the touch of his fingers and teeth and tongue and cock. Pink wriggling toes, curling and crinkling until they cramp as he bottoms-out inside her, just begging for him to bite them while he fucks her harder, unable to go anywhere with her ankles shackled together, the chain pulled over his head and resting at his neck with her precious feet made to hang off his shoulders, only able to pull him closer.
Tomura learned quickly when playing with his darling that a woman’s feet are a woman’s weakness, because as she begs him not to touch her, begs him to stay away, once he wraps his hand around her ankle and drags her back to where he wants her, thigh-high sock slowly being pulled off to reveal her legs and coming off at her pedicured toes, foot enclosed in his strong hands, making her bones pop in a much needed message, she’ll moan in a way parallel with how lude she’ll croak with his fat cock drilling into her.
YANDERE ! SHINSO HITOSHI
BONDAGE KINK
Who would not find it cute? A little pussycat all knotted up in a ball of yarn, with no hope of escaping, all trapped and vulnerable and begging for Master’s help. Her fingers dancing in the air, wrists tightly locked together, under full understanding that they’re completely useless under the circumstances, having no purpose except for stroking his cock in those moments he’s come close enough, yet not having the courage to sink her claws into the tender squishy flesh of his length because he has her other delicate bits on full display, all for him to destroy if she is to give him the right motivation, if she gives him an excuse to punish her.
He can play nice if she plays along, if she expresses her gratitude on cue like he’s taught her, if she asks for permission, if she begs enough. Either way, she’s not getting out of his trap. Either way, he’ll have his way, which is all that’s important to him. He knows she’ll enjoy herself whether she wants to or not, he’ll see to it up close and personally. Whispering small commands in her ear when she decides to be difficult, telling her to focus, telling her to forget everything except for him and those hands of his and that tongue of his and those teeth of his and that fat veiny cock of his, playing with her, forcing her to see stars.
YANDERE ! TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS
MARKING KINK
It’s a need, it’s a necessity, it’s an instinct more than a desire. He’ll be rigid and manic and swivel-eyed, unable to feel at all at ease or at peace with her skin being unadorned and healed and ridden of his teeth-marks and claw-marks and love-bites. They belong on her just as much as that angel-coated set of wings on her back. His name belongs carved into her chest with the handy use of one of his crimson feathers just as much as that feather belongs in the flock on his own back. They need to be ever present on her body or else he’s risking her forgetting who it is that she belongs too.
She doesn’t really need clothes. Keigo likes her ready for the taking at all times. Expensive clothing articles just go to waste if they fall prey to him having to rip them to shreds when removing them unceremoniously from her body, especially when she’s so adamant on resisting him. Besides, if she’s all covered up in silks and whatnot, how is his need to see himself on her skin expected to be satiated? And, she looks so cute trying and struggling to cover herself up, with only her hands and feathers to use in hiding herself from Keigo’s prying eyes.
YANDERE ! MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU
DADDY-KINK
Whether it’s sparked by his need to help and protect his little darling from harm and the dangers of the world, or because his own father abandoned him as a child, he does not give it too much thought, despite his darling often times asking for an explanation when he has her bent over his knee, sharp slaps printed on the dome of her ass while she’s made to beg Daddy for forgiveness, her otherwise perfect milky skin now bruised with ugly purple and blues, further indicating Izuku’s ownership of her. Come to think of it, maybe it’s because the title inspires authority, something of which he demands all responsibility of.
She’s his little girl, his little baby, his little Bunny, in desperate dangerous need of Daddy’s firm hand to teach her right from wrong, to teach her proper manners and proper posture and how to properly bounce up and down the length of his cock. Manners including begging Daddy to let her cum, whereas posture is learned and achieved through lesson after lesson where they train in keeping her ass arched up when her head is buried face-down in the pillow, with Daddy’s cock skewering her from behind, her little ass earning a bright-red slap each time her posture fails, her little ditzy brain unable to take simple directions with all the blood pooling in her brain.
YANDERE ! CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL
LINGERIE KINK
She looks so perfect clad in expensive customized lace-roses and patterned mesh. Straps connecting her garner-belt to her thigh-high socks, all decorated with rosery swirls and diamonds and pearls, the golden clasps acting as a thing to admire and a puzzle to solve before he can slide her out of her underwear. Bralette granting minimum support as he wants to see her mounds in their natural perfection, the invisibility of the mesh-fabric leaving little to the imagination with her nipples on full display. Teddies too are such a delicate and exquisite playful attire for him to dress her up in. Intricate and ornate patterns adorning the fabrics both of silk and satin and velvet and cotton and lace, two small buttons positioned at her entrance for easy access.
Way too short skirts to even come close to fulfilling their purpose of hiding her privates. With their fluffy taffeta and tulle propping the skirt up into a wet-dream fairy-tutu costume. Kimonos too are such a sweet soft form of unwrapping a present. Tendrils of ribbon tying into big splendid flamboyant bows all for him to tug and make fall apart to open what glory found inside the packaging. Ruffles adorning the sleeves and every other edge in cutesy doll-like fashion. Colors of pastel pinks and creams in stark contrast to his black suit-pants when he makes her take a seat on his knee.
YANDERE ! TODOROKI SHOTO
AFTERCARE KINK
It’s more than a duty, it’s a pleasure as well, something to look forward to, something to cherish. To have her broken bruised sweat-slicked radiant body, shivering from the cold or feverish and delirious from the heat, all fallen into a feeble mess of tired aching limbs, and her so very preciously dumb blissed-out state of mind, with words incoherently mumbled and blubbered and hiccupped out into the air with no true goal inside her fried little head. Her eyes heavy-lidded and pupils opium-wide, unable to focus on anything with the rapturous frenzied-high that has shaken her body ablaze and rendered her all but a febrile mess.
She’s so cute with all her humanity having been broken, leaving her as a wild cotton-eyed bleating little lamb as he places her in the hot-tub, careful to join her so she not drown in her absentminded euphoria. It takes time to come down from the fever, her body involuntarily fallen prey to spasms and convulsions wreaking through to her toes as they crinkle under the pressure, with her voice outing small whimpering sighs and moans. Shoto’s right hand ghosting over those fresh red and blue and purple galaxies adorning her body, cooling the swelling skin down, calming the blood gushing out from popped veins as he whispers sweet soft-spoken comforting nothings into her ear, cooing and hushing at her to let him kiss everything better.
#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere bnha#yandere bakugo#bakugou katsuki#yandere bakugo katsuki#dabi#yandere dabi#yandere chisaki#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#yandere tomura#yandere todoroki#yandere hitoshi shinso#yandere shigaraki#yandere shinso hitoshi#takami keigo#keigo takami#yandere kai chisaki#yandere katsuki#izuku midoriya#midoriya izuku#yandere izuku#yandere hitoshi#yandere shinsou#yandere shouto#yandere headcanons#boku no hero headcanons#mha headcanons#bnha headcanons#yandere deku
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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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idk why i wanna talk s*x headcanons before noon on a monday but here we go
idk how to make a read more on mobile because i am what? stupid heres some dots and a chance to scroll if u wanna skip
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ok lesss gooooo
alfred is high energy and enthusiastic and just fucks like a frat boy like he doesnt have the best technique but goddammit coach he has the heart let him play
also he doesnt have technique when it comes to head but he doesnt have a gag reflex so what he lacks in technical skill he makes up for with his thrussy game
he also tends 2 c*m quick ☠️ but also hes usually up for multiple rounds so it balances out
arthur got the skill and the experience but also hes a boney old man and hes into more extreme stuff so like yeah its good but christ if its not a paddle or a hand slapping against u its his boney fucking ass
arthurs throat game kinda weak tho cuz i imagine he even gags on his tooth brush 😔 its ok king us gaggily-challenged persons gotta stick together
he enjoys any k*nk that steps from d*mination and s*bmission and it usually also reflects how hes feeling about life at the time to because while he may run from his emotions his sex life sure doesnt
arthur also constantly j*rks it if that fool is alone he is going at it
together? i think alfred generally t*ps most of the time just cuz hes just so eager he doesnt even think about prep work and generally arthurs better at planning in advance and also arthurs been more in a b*ttoming mood lately. arthur probably hasnt brought most of his k*nks into the bedroom w alfred just cuz alfreds a sweet boy 🥺 he may be a little rough just cuz he doesnt think about it but hes just happy to be there
idk much about alfreds k*nks. i think while hes excitable, outside of the bedroom he doesnt put much thot into those things cuz hes always busy w something. i think if he does like anything its more v*nilla k*nks like.... maybe costumes? when people give him a show? i think while he doesnt think about it, hes more receptive than what he and everyone else thinks and if a partner really likes something he’ll also start to like it, so if arthur does bring his stuff into play, alfred probably wont understand it but he’ll gladly play along and get into character cuz arthur likes it so much 🤷🏼♀️
#the real problem is idk how to tw tag this stuff cuz i dont want p*rn bots all over this post#and i never remember what ive tagged stuff like thisbefore to keep a consistent block tag#uhhhhhhhhhhh#yeah idk ask me to tag if you need it tagged sorry to give a shit solution that wont work
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Miss Hellfire
Mr. Pink x Female Reader (Rating: 18)
Joe has another job for Mr. Pink, although this time he'll be working with Miss Hellfire. She's fierce and just as ruthless as he is. There's no denying there's an immediate connection between them, but will the sexual tension that lingers between them get in the way?
Everytime you arrived at a place, all eyes were always on you. And perhaps the reason was you always wore the tightest black leather clothes that were out there, the truth was, you enjoyed the attention. As you opened the door to the diner, you were immediately hit by the smell of coffee and bacon, which made your stomach growl. You had had a very long night, but you had promised Joe you’d take this job. And so, here you were bright and early on a Sunday morning wearing your finest black leather halter top along with a pair of leather pants and a jacket, then to finish it off the six inch heeled boots which concealed a switchblade knife.
You eyed Joe sitting in the corner booth with Nice Guy Eddie. If you hadn’t known Joe, you would have thought he was some Grandpa sipping coffee in a run down diner doing a wordsearch or something, but he was actually jotting down notes and planning several heists. Nice Guy Eddie wore his usual terrible tracksuits, which you believed he probably hadn’t washed since 1985. Next to them was a man perhaps in his mid thirties, he was definitely very attractive, however he looked as if he had just attended a funeral or a waiter who made shitty tips. Would it hurt him to wear something leather? His outfit consisted of a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, his chestnut brown hair was slicked back and he rubbed his goatee after he set down his coffee.
Finally, you glided over towards the booth and slid yourself down onto the crimson leather seats. “Hello boys,” you purred, your voice was soft and sweet like honey.
“It’s about fucking time. We’ve been waiting here for an hour.” The man in the suit snapped.
You cocked your head to the side. “Oh-” you said in surprise, then added, “and who are you?”
“It’s really fucking unprofessional.” He roared back.
Joe cleared his throat, and said. “Mr. Pink, meet Miss Hellfire. You’ll be working together on the job tomorrow.”
Mr. Pink scoffed. “Miss Hellfire- dramatic much.”
Annoyance coursed through you, as you were taken aback by the rudeness and the nerve this guy bore. “You can always just call me Red.” You responded, then added, “And, come on- Mr. Pink?” You said sarcastically, and raised an eyebrow. “That’s probably what I’ll name my vibrator.”
Mr. Pink smiled deviously, he leaned forward and you could almost taste his hot breath on your skin. “Believe me sweetheart. Once I’m done with you, you won’t ever be needing that little vibrator.”
You smirked back. You couldn’t deny how sexy he was, and all you could think about was wrapping him around your little finger.
“That’s enough you two,” Joe ordered. He shuffled the papers in his hand and pushed a blueprint in front of you and Mr. Pink, then continued. “If you two want to get a fucking room, do it in your own time. This is business.” He said through gritted teeth.
You met Mr. Pink’s gaze and edged forward, pushing your plump breasts toward Mr. Pink’s face, who stared you up and down. You placed your hand on the table and allowed your long fiery red nails to tap onto the table, one after the other. It drove Mr. Pink insane, and he clenched his jaw, his large cerulean eyes stared right at you. His gaze became locked on your nails, imagining those very fingers gripping over his cock. He exhaled deeply and pushed those thoughts into the back of his mind, after all, he was a professional.
“This is a simple job. It’s a small jeweler, but trust me- there’s probably about a million dollars worth of diamonds in there.” Nice Guy Eddie explained.
Mr. Pink examined the blueprint. “It’s easy. We go in here, then leave out this exit. We’ll be in and out within three minutes.” his long slim and slightly boney finger traced the lines of the blueprint, which you stared at. Thoughts of what he could do to you with those fingers crossed your mind, and you crossed your legs.
You shook your head, before snapping back into reality. “Slow down big guy,” you teased, and then you snatched the blueprint away from him. Your fingers grazed his hand and it sent an electrical impulse through your veins. “You’re forgetting the automatic locks. Place like this is going to be wired up their fucking ass. I say we bust out through the fire exit.”
“That’s not bad.” Joe responded. “Are you both clear?”
Mr. Pink’s gaze never left yours. “Yeah.” He said. You nodded, and then, Mr. Pink looked you up and down. “I don’t know how you’re going to run in that outfit.”
You smirked, and responded. “Oh honey, you don’t know what I can do in six inch heels.”
The heist had been more than successful. As you and Mr. Pink arrived at the safehouse, which was one of Joe’s abandoned warehouses. Mr. Pink unzipped the duffel bag and poured the diamonds onto the table. You strode towards the table and stared at the array of shining diamonds which reminded you of the stars in front of you. You took out your guns and placed them on the table.
Mr. Pink’s eyes never left your sight. He must admit that what he had witnessed during the robbery still left him in utter infatuation. The way you fought and moved in there, the way your body swung around like a cat. The precision when you fired the gun and not to mention the fact that you two shared the same ruthlessness. That fire and fury that no one would stand in your way.
“God, look at all this.” You said as your fingers glided over the diamonds.
“Joe will be pleased.”
You turned to face him. He stared down at you, as you closed the gap between the two of you. Your head tilted up as you whispered into his ear. “When are you going to tell me you want me?”
Mr. Pink hesitated. “What? I don’t-” He lied. As much as he knew how much he wanted you, he could never bring himself to tell the truth. Mr. Pink had always been a lone ranger- roaming through life in solitude. It scared him deeply that he was so deeply drawn to you.
“I’ve seen you the way you look at me.” You said, as you stepped closer towards him, pushing your breasts against his chest. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Slowly, your fingers curled around his black tie and you grabbed onto hard, as if someone was going to steal it from you. With a tug, you pulled him closer towards you. Your lips almost touched, as you stared deep into him.
Finally, Mr. Pink gave in as his lips crushed down onto yours. Immediately, you kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his. Suddenly, he pushed you back, your bodies crashed into the table which was then casted aside, followed by the thunderous clash of the diamonds and guns descending onto the concrete ground. Mr. Pink slammed your body against a wall. You continued to kiss each other hungrily, his large hands cupped your breasts and you moaned. With his leg, he placed it in between yours as he used it to push your legs apart. The more you tasted him on your lips, it made you realize that it would never be enough, he was so addictive like a drug that possessed you. Your fingers found its way down to his crotch, and you felt his hardness. Then, you unbuckled his belt then unzipped his pants. He pulled off your leather pants, then placed his hands on your hips as he lifted you off the ground. Immediately, your legs were wrapped around his waist and you dug your fingernails into the back of his neck. He groaned into your ear. He slammed inside of you hard, and you moaned at the pleasure.
“Yes,” you cried out, your voice was raspy from constantly crying out from the satisfaction. Your fingers became intertwined in his velvety soft chestnut brown hair. You tugged at it, and it just sent a bolt of electric impulses and pleasure through both of you.
“That’s it babydoll.” He whispered into your ear.
He thrusted hard and fast. “Oh God-” you called out, as you felt yourself reaching ecstasy. He grunted and he quickened his pace, feeling the excitement each time you cried out. And then, you both climaxed.
Your chest was heaving up and down fast, your legs still wrapped around his waist and your nails still digging into him. It would definitely leave a mark on him, but you couldn’t care less and frankly neither did Mr. Pink as he would wear them like a badge of honor, displaying how you had orgasmed under his very touch.
Slowly, you peeled yourself away from him. You both remained silent as you got dressed, but the scene of the crime was evident enough of what had just happened between the two of you.
Mr. Pink fumbled with his suit jacket, and he took out a cigarette, firing it up immediately. He took a long and deep drag, as the cigarette rested between his slender fingers.
At that moment, the door flung wide open, and Joe emerged with Nice Guy Eddie. They strode towards you and Mr. Pink. Mr. Pink was fiddling with his belt buckle, beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he pushed his hair out of his face. His tie was crooked and a few buttons of his shirt were missing. Your hair was disheveled and your lipstick was smudged. Nice Guy Eddie’s eyes narrowed, as his gaze jumped between you and Mr. Pink.
Joe’s eyes widened as he noticed the tables on the floor along with the diamonds, but he refused to comment. “I see the job was a success.” He finally said.
“Of course.” Mr. Pink said.
“Well, Eddie’s going to hand you your cut for it.” Joe announced, as he gestured to Eddie, which then retrieved two white envelopes from his tracksuit jacket. “Now, you can go your separate ways.”
Mr. Pink cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m open to working with Miss Hellfire again in the future,” he began, then turned to you. “I mean- if you want?”
You cocked your head to the side and smirked “I’ll be happy to, Mr. Pink.” You purred.
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Pt. 9 - “Where have you been?”
cant believe this took me forever to finish....
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.4.5 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8
Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader
Word Count: 4088
Warnings: the standards
Tag list: @theojuicee @ayamenimthiriel @imthesnowinthedark
§
There was a castle in the middle of the woods.
That being said, it was a small one, more of a keep. With two towers- one shorter than the other and was stretching out from the side of the wall.
No one knew how long the castle has been there. But it was there. And for generations, the people from the nearby region all knew about the tale of the master of the castle, and how he would make any wish come true, to those who find their way to his door. That’s if, one can pay the price.
§
“Master Itzel.”
At the top of the lower tower, a bed was set at the center of the room. Heavy curtains were hanging from the top, blocking all the light from coming in. Lanterns with intricate designs were hanged on the corners of the room, giving out faint warm light.
The source of the voice put out the dying lanterns, then went straight for the curtains.
Bright beams shined into the room, the bump in bed groaned, shifted and buried deeper into the pillow.
“Itzel, wake up.”
“...Shut up...I’m sleeping...” “The sun is up, you need to get up now.” “...No I don’t...”
The figure moved to stand next to the bed, “Y/n.”
“...Whaaaat?” you pushed yourself up in frustration. “Breakfast is ready, and it’s getting cold. Then you will complain about your cold food. And that’s absurd.” the man said in an indifferent tone. He has his back to the window, face completely in the dark, but you could still see those pair of crimson-color eyes, like they were faintly glowing.
“...Fuck you Elye...” you whined, slowly crawling out of bed. “Good morning to you too.” Eyle continued on to open the rest of the curtains.
You went down the stairs, followed the smell of bacon to the dining room.
A man was already at the table, sipping on a cup of tea, with a red-covered book in another hand. He had one of those faces that intimidates people, like how you would imagine what a powerful and cold-blooded mob boss would look like --- that stern look immediately melted into a warm smile when he noticed your presence.
“Well, someone decided to join us for breakfast this morning!” he got this velvety voice that reminded you of honey. “...Good morning, Helvit'tar.” you said with a yawn.
Helvit'tar quickly put down his book, stood up, and pulled out the chair for you. You gave him a smile, sat down and helped yourself to some creamy eggs. Eyle was already next to you pouring hot tea into a cup.
“So, you are leaving today? To see Crewe?” Helvit'tar sat back down, long boney fingers picked up the cup. “I thought there’s no job-talk at the table?” you remembered the annoying work you had to do. “Excuse my insolence, but you are going to be gone for weeks!” Helvit'tar gave you a puppy-eye. You took a glace towards Eyle, who was sitting down across you--- a faint frown showed on his usually emotionless face. You suppressed a giggle, “I will send you messages, ok? Old man?” “Yes you would, one every day.” Helvit'tar nodded. “Ha, no promises.” you chuckeled.
§
You had no idea how long you had been here. Time was exceptionally slow in this part of the woods, especially in the castle. But you loved it there. Life was good.
It was pure chance that the master and his servant found you. You were covered in blood with hollow eyes in the basement of a tower flooded with death somewhere in a forest. It was also one of the very few memories you could retrieve from your mind, since everything else was pretty much lost in the dark.
You didn’t have much when you joined the family. A bag full of bullets, three firearms, the memory of you standing in a pool of crimson with body pieces scattering everywhere, Helvit'tar’s shocked face. And the mark on your right forearm, the proof of trading with the demons.
It took you months before your own name came back to you--- before that you were told that you were Itzel, Helvit'tar’s daughter. It seemed like Helvit'tar treated you as a surrogate of his daughter, but you didn’t mind. They took you in, treated you like family, life was good.
No need to dwell on your lost past life.
§
“What’s his name again?”
Sitting in the carriage that has nice dark red velvet lined across every surface you can see, you had your back against the wall, both legs stretched out on the seat. You stared at the window across you that had silk curtains neatly tied at the side, in the shade of darker-almost-brown red.
“Crewe. Lord Crewe. And I hope you remember it when we are in the presence of him.” Eyle’s toneless voice raised from the book he was reading. “It’s not my fault that my brain can’t remember shit.” you crossed your legs, then uncross them. “We’ve met him before, on his wedding day.” “That was a long time ago!” “Six months. That was six months ago.” “Exactly. A long time ago.” you slid down a little bit so your feet were pressing right against the other side of the carriage.
“Are we there yet?” you asked, to your bellybutton. “We’ll be there in two days.” Eyle flipped a page. “Ugh...Why is it taking so long?” you slid down a bit more. “It’s 4 hours less since you asked this morning.” You threw him a vicious glare, then huffed, slid and lay down on your back with your knees bent.
You stared at the carriage ceiling, which was also lined with dark-red velvet. “When is Helvit'tar gonna fix this carriage?” “The carriage is perfectly fine.” “No it’s not. The interior design is a total disaster. I feel like I’m in my mother’s womb.” “I doubt you remember what it was like being in the womb.” Eyle flipped to the next page. “How do you know that I don’t remember?” you turned your head to look at him, but can only see his book cover. Eyle didn’t bother to answer. You pouted, turned back to stare at the ceiling again.
“Who use red everywhere anyway?” you mumbled to yourself, “It irritates people you know? It’s terrible. Whoever designed this need a good lesson in color psychology.”
You could hear the wheel crashing over some twigs and leaves, and the hoofs thumping on the ground.
“Master is working on it already.” “On what?” you stopped tracing the golden stitch line of the seat to look at Eyle, who was still very much absorbed in his difficult reading and was deviding only a fraction of his attention to you. “A new carriage, with new designs that might suit your taste.” “He is?” “You shouldn’t be surprised. After all you are the only one who complain about the carriage.” “...I’m sure that’s not true, I can’t be the only one hating this design.” you said with a frown and a sense of guilt. “You are.” “...” you chewed on the inside of your mouth, sat up and scooched to the side and looked out the window with your hand under your chin.
Eyle closed his book. “Do you want to drive the carriage?” “...” you can see his reflection in the window, patiently waiting. “...You’d let me?” your breath fogged up the window slightly. “Jarin will supervise you, of course.” “...” You didn’t want to give in so soon.
Eyle didn’t wait for your verbal confirm, he raised his book, and gave a few tap on the ceiling with the corner. The carriage slowly came to a stop. The driver, Jarin, jumped off of his seat and waited at the door on Eyle’s side. Eyle gave him a slight nod, Jarin opened the door. You turned to look. “Just for a while, can’t let anyone see you driving the carriage with master’s seal on the side.” “Alright!” you quickly said, and jumped out of the door.
§
Spending time with Eyle sometimes gives you a sense of nostalgia, and sadness. You don’t quite understand why. He indulges you. And you’re comfortable being indulged. You don’t know where the mixed feelings come from. Sometimes you wonder if you two knew each other in another life, or did it got something to do with your past.
But most of the time you ignore it. It’s just a feeling. Feelings could be weird sometimes. It’s fine.
§
The carriage was going through the muddy road and getting near the stronghold of Lord Crewe, with the curtains down and secured so people couldn’t see in.
You were in a silver-grey cloak, with beautiful embroidery on the edges in different shades of red, secured with a deep blue sapphire brooch in the shape of Helvit'tar’s seal. On the inside was a crimson red dress with elaborate rose-gold thread embroidery, adorned with tiny pearls carved into Poppy and skulls. The dress covered most of your skin, with a high collar and long lacy sleeves. A lace mask matching the color pattern of your cloak, that can cover your whole face, was laid on your knees.
On your left thumb was a ring, with a silver skull that had a pair of twirl horns and a long sharp-pointy beak that was a bit out of portion compared to the whole head, two red gems were embedded in the eyes sockets. You were zoning out, staring at the lace mask, with your index finger slightly tapping on the pointy end of the ring skull.
“Itzel.” Eyle had the same exact out fit as you, with the lace mask already covering his face, “Put on the mask, we’re getting close.” You took a look at him, he was indistinguishable from you. The carriage is slowing down. “Do you need a minute?” Eyle asked. You shook your head, took in a deep breath and put on the mask.
§
Stepping out of the carriage, you straightened your back, eyes looking forward as Jarin helped you out--- like a nobel, prideful queen, was what you always reminded yourself. There was a ball held in the main hall, celebrating the birth of Lord Crewe’s first son. The son who was not birthed by the Lady of Crewe, but would be known as the righteous successor. You and Eyle walked side by side, following the guard to the hall.
The music and talking paused when you two entered. Eyes were all on you as you walked in sync, stopped in front of the Lord and bowed your heads slightly.
You tapped the tip of your ring on your left index finger and drew some blood. “Lord Crewe, I bare my humble blessing to your newborn.” your voice was hoarse, with a strange echo. “Master Itzel!” Crewe stood up from his seat with arms wide open, “My son will be blessed! Let it be heard!” behind him there was an empty cradle. You lowered your head just a bit more, “My lord, I came for the matter you mentioned in your letter-” “Yes yes, not now.” Crewe lowered his voice and waved his hand annoyingly, “Later.” he then raised his voice again, “Enjoy the celebration good Master! Bless my family with good health and fortune!” You rolled your eyes while you were turning and walking away. The music resumed, as you and Eyle went to the second floor of the hall to get out of sight.
Standing by the railing, you two watched people ate and drank and laughed and danced. The both of you were still drawing some attention, with your weird outfits and behavior. However, the crowd soon divert their attention to the newcomers.
You first noticed the man with the extravagant outfit, and all the shiny jewelries- not matching his puffy black beard and messy long hair. You remembered seeing him on the wedding day of Lord Crewe- or at least the style of fashion, you remembered he was related to Crewe, but you didn’t remember exactly who he was. But what caught your attention was his companion, how he wore a leather armor to a formal event, how he carried a sword on his back.
You watched as the two of them walked up to Crewe to talk, with Crewe clearly not happy with the two visitors. “Who is that?” you tilted your head slightly towards Eyle. “That’s Gauntelle, Crewe’s cousin. They are not on good terms, and it’s getting worse after Lady Dimia, Crewe’s aunt, Gauntelle’s mother, passed away.” Eyle spoke quietly. You nodded. Crewe was leaning back against his chair lazily, seemed completely uninterested in the conversation with his cousin. “And who’s that?” you nodded towards the strange man. “I don’t know. Gauntelle doesn’t usually have a bodyguard. Perhaps he’s here for the matter.”
You stared intensely, solely at the man. The man with white hair. “...That man,” you spoke slowly, “I think I knew him...” “From your past?” Eyle turned his head a little to look at you. You didn’t brake the gaze, “I don’t know, I’m not sure.” “We could go and have a talk with him, he might know something. Or someone who would know?” There was something shiny dangling from the hilt of his sword, but you couldn’t make out the details from the distance to know what it was. You shook your head, “No.” you faced away from the ball, “It’s unwise to try and take back something I threw away.”
On the bottom floor, the white hair man turned and looked around, eyes linger on the cloaked figures before turning back to the bored Lord.
§
A servant led you through the cold stone hallway to your room. As soon as the door closed behind you, you took off the mask, “What the fuck? I thought we are here to take care of his problem?” “He’s a lord, he’d do anything he wants anytime he wants.” Eyle took over your mask and set it on the nightstand. “Ugh..” you threw yourself on the soft bed with your cloak on, “I wanna go home. We really don’t have to be here pleasing that loser. We do just fine-” “Itzel,” Eyle hang his cloak by the door, “you know why we have to do this.” “...Yeah yeah I know...”you blew a raspberry, “...This is bullshit...” Eyle came up to you, sticking his hand out. You sat up, untied your cloak.
Just when you were ready to turn in for the night, a scream pierced through the hallway. You exchanged a look with Eyle, then grabbed the mask and darted out.
There were whispers echoing in the stone wall, and a woman’s trembling voice coming from the hall. You rushed towards the noise.
There were several humanoid shapes with green hue emerging from them flying around the main hall. And there was a female servant laying on the floor, with a hideous opening on her chest. The whispers grew louder, with chuckles. You heard footfalls coming from the other hallway, Lord Crewe leading a group of soldiers with burning torches rushed in. The wraiths faded out as the orange hue of the torch light the hall.
“Where? Where are they?” Crewe was panting, acted angry. More footsteps followed, Gauntelle, dressed in a fancy night gown, and his bodyguard ran up behind you. You glanced at the dangling shiny object from his drawn sword, could’ve swore that it was a gold coin.
“You!” Crewe pointed at you and Eyle, “You are here to take care of this! Do your job!” he screamed. You stared at him amusedly, “...Yes, we are here to help. But you have to tell us the details, what causes this?” you said with a low and quiet voice. “No one knows what is happening, that’s why you are here!” Crewe waved his hand in frustration, and paced back and forth in front of his ‘throne’. “They were wraiths, and quite a few of them.” the bodyguard stepped forward, still having his shiny sword out. “Gauntelle, I told you to get rid of that thing!” Crewe’s face was red down to his neck from the yelling, “Your kind is not welcomed on my land, witcher!” he spat.
The witcher snorted, “And you think these self proclaimed blood mages can solve your problem? Blood magic doesn’t exist, if it does it’s dark magic, you will never be truly free from your problem. You need a professional.” “Your kind is cursed! You could be bringing me more trouble and I’m already having enough! Leave at once or I’ll have my men remove you!” “Brother, be reasonable. Geralt here is a professional, let him take care of this.” Gauntelle opened his arms. “Shut up! You! You are enjoying this aren’t you? You want to see me go down so you could take my place! You even brought this- this abomination! Into my castle?”
You chuckled softly, “Let’s all calm down for a bit now. It’s not the time for quarrels.” you walked past the witcher, “We got some wraiths to take care of..and I think you know more than what you let on, my lord...” you slowly approached the nervous Lord. “W-what? How dare you assume anything of me? I’m the Lord of-” “-Yeah yeah whatever...” you snorted, slowly taking off your mask and leaned into his bloated pale face, whispered, “You and I both know about your little secret chamber, where you do all your cute recreations with the maids... So let’s not waste anymore of each other's time and work together hmm?”
Crewe’s face got paler, he tumbled back and sat on the ground next to his chair. You chuckled more, “...You are the one who caused all these, just admit it. It could make everything easier.” grinned widely. The great Lord’s lips trembled, he tried to say something but couldn't. You turned and sat down on his throne gracefully, crossing your legs and gently put your elbow on the arm of the chair, and your chin on your hand.
You slowly glanced across everyone who was present- couldn’t help but noticed the white hair one was staring at you as if he saw someone dead came back alive- “Well? May I have more of your cooperation my lord?” you rest your gaze back on the Lord on the ground.
Crewe quickly stood up, straightened his tunic, cleared his throat, “...You have all my men at disposal, Master Itzel.” You smiled, “Well, first of all, I don’t need these guys, they can fuck off all they want.” you waved lazily at the soldiers, “Secondly, I’ll need you to get me two of your tubes in your play room. And don’t you bullshit me and pretend I didn’t know better...I need one of your big lab tubes.” You saw his face only going paler, and responded with a more innocent smile. “G-go on! Do what she says! Damn it!” One of soldiers scrambled away.
Eyle stood quietly next to the throne with his mask still on, while you sat on the throne looking bored- specifically ignoring the gaze of the white hair one.
§
The errant boy soon returned, passed the tube to you with a shaky hand. You smiled at him, “Thank you dear, you may go now.” then handed the tubes that was about two fingers wide to Eyle. “Now my lord, I need some of your blood.” you said lazily, gave a nod towards Crewe.
“W-what?” the Lord took a few steps back away from you, “Why do you need that?” “Don’t worry, losing a few drop won’t kill you.” you rolled your eyes dramatically, “There’s a price to everything, darling. Consider this as your payment, I’m sure you will find it quite cheap.” you smirked. Eyle approached him with the tube. Crewe looked at the tube, looked at Eyle, then looked at you. “Don’t listen to her, brother! She’s an evil witch! She works with the devils!” Gauntelle said loudly. “-You do have another option, my Lord.” the witcher spoke, gaze still fixed on you, “I can take care of the wraiths, and it will only cost you gold.” he glanced towards the Lord.
“...Stay out of this, witcher.” you spoke up, “The least you want would be an enemy with the knowledge of blood magic...” “Blood magic is not real.” “Oh?” you snorted, stood up and walked up to him, “And you think you know better?” You were inches away from him, staring up into his eyes, you felt a great sorrow emerged deep within you that was alien to you. “Don’t do this...” he whispered. You tilted your head, squinted your eyes slightly, puzzled, by the look on his face. “I’m certainly not letting a mutant telling me what I can’t do.” you smirked, “Eyle?”
In a flash, Eyle threw the Lord- who was probably weighted twice as much as Eyle- onto the ground, cut the Lord’s arm open with a sharp, weirdly twisted dagger. “Ahhhh!” Crewe screamed as Eyle pinned him down with great force, and caught the blood in the tubes.
Eyle finished his job, got up and handed one to you. You extended your arm out, took the tube, and started drinking. Without breaking eye contact with the witcher. You tilted your head up to get the last few drops, closing your eyes. The torches and the candles started flickering.
You felt the warm thick substance slid down your throat, a smile escaped from the corner of your lips. You opened your eyes, it was completely covered in a dark red color. “She’s summoning them!” Gauntelle gasped as the green lights started fading into the hall. “...Shut him up, will you?” your head turned slightly to the side, voice hoarse and cracked, weirdly hollowed. Eyle moved in the speed of lightening- the witcher was surprised for his mutated eyes could barely follow track, but he didn’t show it on his face- and knock the fancy dressing cousin out with a single blow in the temple.
All the lights were dimmed by some unseen force, the wraiths returned with more laughs and whispers. You started chanting, slowly raising your arms and dragged a long line on your marked forearm with the pointy thumb ring, the sharp end openedbup your skin effortlessly. The witcher’s face grew paler as your smile widened maliciously, the metallic smell of blood grew thicker and thicker. Thick, dark, web-like tentacles emerged from the floor, the corner of the walls, and reached for the wraiths. A new layer of whisper joined in, the witcher turned to make sure it wasn’t from someone standing next to him. Shivers running down the spines of those who were present.
You clenched your fists in the air, the tentacles snatched the flying wraiths. These poor cursed souls screamed in anguish, visibly burning and disintegrating from the inside till there’s nothing left.
The light slowly came back, the tentacles retracted into the shadow. You put down your arms, the color of deep dark maroon that was over your eyes were faded. The great Lord Crewe had already passed out cold on the ground. A dread of silence stuffed the whole room, for a moment the witcher thought he was deaf, till he realized that he could hear the blood flowing in his ear.
“...What did you do?” he asked quietly. You wiped the blood on your arm away with the corner of your dress, “I took care of the wraiths.” It was a deep slit, but it already stopped bleeding. “The wraiths, they would return-” “Of course they would. They were here because our lord likes to play sick games with the maids, nothing can really solve the problem. The wraiths will be back, it's only a matter of time.” you walked away and slid a letter into the pocket of Crewe, “However, I suggest you to stay out of this, this dimwit is in my debt now and I need him. I strongly advise you not to go against my will.”
“...What happened to you? Where have you been?...” You heard him asked, and you could heard the sorrow in his voice. You raised your head to meet his gaze, “I believe you’ve mistaken me as someone else?” you tilted your head with a pitiful look. “...What?” he looked confused. “I don’t know you, witcher.” “...” “Itzel, our ride is here.” Eyle, like a ghost, already retrieved your cloak and was waiting at the door. “Well, witcher,” you gave him one last look before putting on your mask, “let’s hope that we never cross path again. I hate competitions.” You walked to the door, let Eyle help you put on the cloak, and left.
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Chapter Five: Clearing Trost Part II
Alstroemeria, Chapter Five: It seems impossible, but you can’t argue with what you’re seeing. You work with the others to defend Eren.
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a/n: LEVI IS HEEEREEEE. Some more minor Reiner x Reader interactions. but more importantly, LEVI
Armin’s plan is practically flawless.
That being said, Jean’s point on the guns is too resonate to ignore.
Seven titans, roughly four-to-five meters, had taken over the entire supply room. Armin’s plan devised to send down an armed group of cadets, on the lift, who would then capture the titans’ attention. As soon as the titan took the bait, the group fires in all four directions to effectively blind each titan. From there, seven cadets would have to drop down from the ceiling beams to take each titan out.
Armin seemed to think it could work with the amount of ammunition you’d all found. He also ensured you all that if the plan got screwed up, you’d all likely die.
You held your face in your hand, massaging from the bridge of your nose to the space between your eyes. The seven most “gifted” (as Armin put it) would have to take on the role of taking down each titan.
The others seemed to glance at you, half expecting you to take on the role of one of the seven. With your injury, you doubted that you could do your best. Considering it would be putting everyone’s life on the line, you stepped down and passed the roll onto Sasha Brauss.
She sent you an apologetic look, which you tried your very best to ignore. You didn’t like that she tried to sympathize with you--then again, you don’t like a lot of things.
“It’s a brilliant plan, Arlert,” you commend him, nudging his knees with the toe of your boot.
“And when it comes down to it, the risk is the same for everyone,” Annie added. “No one can get out of this.”
“I mean,” Armin stammered, “I’m willing to here other plans. I’m not going to force anyone to do it.”
Marco sniffed, rubbing his nose with the inside of his wrist as he pipped up. “You know, it’s a good plan. Especially considering it’s our only option. If we all try then we can pull it off.”
The enthusiasm made your stomach lurch. You felt like an outsider watching everyone else through thick, frosty glass. You didn’t feel outrageously confident that the world wouldn’t end tonight. You don’t even know where you’re going to be sleeping tonight. You could be dead tonight.
The lift creaked as it came to a stop, the gate falling down to the floor with a slam. It was ready, and it was time. You begrudgingly grabbed a rifle and a handful of the bullets from the crates.
Your thumbs ached as you loaded the rounds in, one by one.
You tucked the rifle under your arms, looking around to find Reiner standing nearby.
“We’re getting ready to head out,” he explained as you stared with a silent question in your eyes.
“How are y’all going to do it without your gear?” you asked. You held your hand out quickly to stop him from answering. “Just joking,” you hurried. “I don’t want to know. I should just focus on my job.” It would stress you out more if you knew exactly how Reiner and the others were going to pull the little stunt off without their gear.
Reiner’s eyes softened as he looked down at you clearly contemplating your existence within the regiment.
“Don’t take it so personally,” he says kindly, but firmly. “You’re injured. You need to take a rest, not just for our sake but also for yours.”
You pout. “It’s not really a confidence booster when you can’t even take out a four meter bastard because of some goddamn cramps,” you spat as you angrily hit the cemented floor with the toe of your boot.
“Chill out,” Reiner huffed. He rested a hand atop of your shoulder, “You’re still good at what you do. It’s not like this is an exam, or anything.”
“Not an exam,” you agreed, just as you stomped over to the lift. “Just regular life or death.”
“Yeah,” Reiner laughed in agreement. “Regular life or death.”
Reiner had been elected as one of the seven who would be taking care of the titans once they were blinded. He followed behind Annie and Bertholdt, who you swore was too smug over the fact you were being left behind.
But you tried to tell yourself this wasn’t an exam; it wasn’t at all an evaluation of your character.
You were on the very front lines, right in the center of the north facing gunmen where you would be face to face with the filthy little shits. The ride down on the life was too, too quiet for your liking.
You looked back and forth to those who were on your sides. They were all practically green with nausea.
You rolled your eyes. Part of you almost chastised them all for being such worry warts, but you knew that was merely your own way of coping with the fact that you weren’t good enough to be one of the seven strikers.
“Watch it,” you suddenly snapped. The cadet on your right stumbled and hit you in the side with their boney elbow. “You’re making me all sweaty,” you added as you lifted your nose in the air.
But you did not realize that you were sweating all on your own. Your conscious weighed heavy with anxiety that cloaked itself as frustration.
You could feel the lift racketing under your feet as if lowered through a plain column of dark walls. You gulped, the knot in your throat refusing to disappear as you imagined what would be awaiting you all in the main room of surprises.
The lift cranked to a slow stop. You could see the seven titans, which seemed to glow under the torchlights that still burned on the walls. When they walked, the floor groaned, and you feared their big heads would hit the structural beams that supported the building.
They all noticed to arrival of the lift, especially when it clicked into place and the gears stopped moving.
You shot your gun outward, the hilt of it hitting your shoulder as you stood tall and with a raised chin. The others around you did the same, their muskets clicking into place.
You shivered as Marco led the others with calm words, keeping everyone at ease.
When the first titan whirled over to look at you all, you nearly pissed yourself. It’s disturbed face was twisted into a smile as it took one step closer.
You couldn’t fire yet; no one could. It would have been a waste of ammunition. “Fire only when they’re within range,” Marco reminded the others, as if on cue, like he could read your thoughts.
Hell. Maybe this titan can read your thoughts. He is looking at you like he can. He’s looking at you with beady, bright eyes, like he’s fucking excited to see what you’ll taste like, or how you’ll sound when you scream at the sight of your friends being devoured, torn apart, and thrown, like rag dolls.
It’s then that you noticed just how heavy you’re breathing. You’re chest heaves like you’ve been running for miles, and a wheeze is coming from the bottom of your lungs like a broken accordion.
“Now, Marco,” you said. You tried to sound firm. Brave.
But instead, you sounded helpless.
“Wait,” he insisted. He sounded only mildly worried, as if this were a regular day for him.
“Marco,” you plead. The titans have gathered all around, now, and they’re literal inches away from you.
Your heart fell into your stomach as the titan waddled closer. His smile burned into your eyes, and you knew, then, that you’d see that thing’s face every night when you closed your eyes.
His breath reeked like nothing you’d ever smelt before. It was like a million deaths in that thing’s mouth.
Bile rose in your throat, bitter on your tongue as your finger slid across the golden trigger.
The titan took a step closer and the soft squish his eye made as he touched the barrel of your gun pushed you over the edge.
“MARCO,” you shriek. Your voice sounded foreign in your own ears. It was dripping with panic.
The guns blasted, shooting off like thunder cracking all around you. It was such a chaotic noise. You couldn’t describe the aura of it all, with the thundering booms of each fire that stayed in time with the muzzle flares.
Each titan went down with a boom. One, two, three, you counted.
You felt instant relief flood your body like a sweet drug.
The relief was dried up when you realized that Sasha missed.
Sasha missed. Sasha, who wouldn’t have even been up there if it weren’t for your injury. You wouldn’t have missed. You would have made it.
For a split second, you could see all the death before your very eyes. Your entire squad, gone. The plan, failed.
The titan stumbled to his knees as he reached for Sasha, who shrieked and tried to run.
You had been so caught up in your inner grief that you didn’t even realize-Connie missed his titan, too.
While the room got all shrouded with steam from the killed titans, you watched as Annie and Mikasa came to the rescue. Just in time.
You were helpless from your spot on the lift. You wouldn’t have been able to do a goddamn thing if Sasha were to have gotten picked up and swallowed like a pill. Instead of worrying, or even thinking about what to do next, you were feeling jealous and bitter. You were feeling competitive.
You couldn’t revel with the others as they cried out in joy. They all moved to fill up their tanks.
You moved around like a puppet. One half of your body felt completely numb as you filled your tanks.
Reiner noticed. He tried to encourage you. He tried his very best.
And still, you felt like a failure. When had you turned into someone who didn’t care about the wellbeing of others? You felt dirty.
You’d have to face that dirty part of yourself some other time. Your pity party is cut short as the others gather together in preparation to once again venture outside.
The sun shone on your face as you stepped out of the main doors. It was a slap in the face of reality. The bad weather had come and gone; the day’s breeze was gentle, and the sunshine warm on your skin. And yet, looking around, the entire district was in utter ruin. The world would continue on. The world doesn’t care about triviality. To Nature, titans and a selfish solider girl were on and the same: nothing.
You went to speed towards the rendezvous point.
Reiner managed to stop you by taking hold of your blood stained elbow. “You alright?” he asked.
“It’s not my blood,” you assured him.
“That’s not what I mean.” His eyes narrowed, as through he were trying to see straight through you.
You stared up at the blond for a few moments before abruptly breaking the stare. “I’m fine,” you insisted. “But I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Well, what else are friends for?” he said with a crooked grin.
You couldn’t think of anything to say. His smile was dazzling. It was bright, genuine, and filled with honest hope.
You just didn’t realize what he was hoping for.
You fled to the rooftops. You were completely prepared to make a quick flight back to the wall; but it was the abnormal titan, the one who’s eyes glowed powerfully, that distracted you from making your full getaway. He was weak, you realized. He was tired. Like you.
He was slumped up against the ruins of a building, and around him were the greedy, chubby figures of titans that were feasting on his flesh.
Cannibalism.
You hadn’t known that titans could exhibit such a trait like cannibalism.
“It’s a little bit...strange. Isn’t it?” you murmured. You didn’t have to look behind you to know Reiner was there, like your constant shadow.
“We should help it,” Reiner suddenly suggested.
You whirled around. As you argued, Jean did as well. Both of your voices screeched at the very same time.
“We’ve finally gotten a chance to get out of this nightmare,” Jean was saying. “And now you want to stay?”
“The titan’s no good to us dead,” Reiner said, sounding completely calm. “I think we could genuinely learn something from it.”
“He might be right,” Mikasa admitted as she shifted into the conversation. “I, myself, am hoping that this titan is the key to a new way.” She tugged her scarf down to exhibit her mouth, which was turned into a tight frown.
“A new way of what, exactly?” Jean asked her exasperated.
She shot him a daggering look, her dark eyes filled with something you couldn’t label, but were afraid of all the same. “Of fighting for survival.”
You sighed heavily. “Do you really think it can help us?” you asked. “I want to hope, too. But how can we be certain it’s not just a really strange abnormal?”
“Think about what you’ve said,” Annie cut in, her icy eyes piercing into your own. “It is an abnormal. Just how different would things be if we had an abnormal for an ally? A canon’s got nothing against a titan’s brute strength.
“Listen to yourselves!” Jean clamored. “It’s not a shiny, new toy!”
Your eyes shot straight past Jean’s shoulder, to the sight of the abnormal who was suddenly grunting and groaning. He sounded angry. He sounded as if he were trying to speak. It was crazy, it was absolutely crazy, but he was conveying some sort of emotion as he took off to a wild charge. The titans that feasted on him earlier flew off as he went racing into another titan that had just happened to be passing by.
The abnormal launched and tackled him. His jaw unhinged before clamping deeply into the titan’s neck.
You gasped.
“That’s the titan that killed Thomas,” Armin said. He didn’t sound as much regretful as he did studious.
“What, you think the abnormal went to get revenge?” you asked. The notion was ridiculous, and you expected Armin to say as much, but he sent you a long stare that said a million words.
“Speaking of shiny, new toys,” you muttered. The abnormal flung the titan in his mouth around like a dog would do with a bundle of rags. Even without arms, and with half of his flesh missing to reveal his ribs, he was still powerful enough to swing the titan around and make a mess. He took down others, all without even having to punch or kick.
It was gruesome.
It was violent.
It was terrifying. You wondered when the abnormal would snap out of it. When would he-or IT- realize his natural enemy are the humans? The damage he would be able to do if humans were his target is unimaginable. It might be enough to destroy the entire world...
The abnormal released another cry, one that you suspected to be some sort of victory thing.
And then it collapsed.
“Well,” Jean was saying, sounding vaguely regretful, “it’s too late now. Let’s get a move on while we still can.”
You would have told Jean to get shoved up a titan’s ass if you weren’t so mesmerized by the steam cloud that burst from the abnormal’s corpse. You’d seen titan’s deteriorate, but they never seemed to go out like this one is. It was releasing steam, like it was some sort of a vent, as opposed to other titans that seemed to just evaporate.
Mikasa suddenly slipped off the roof.
You reached out to her, shocked she would have lost her catlike balance in the first place.
No, you realized. She didn’t slip. She was racing towards that titan’s body. Armin called after her, as stunned as the rest of you.
“It’s nothing we’ve never seen before,” Jean said. He didn’t sound very convinced with his own reasoning.
As the steam clouds parted, you strained your eyes to see Mikasa’s little figure perched atop the titan’s nape, cradling something in her arms as she sobbed. You’d never seen her cry before. It was a surprising display as she rocked back and forth, clutching tightly to-
“That’s Eren Jaeger,” you exclaimed.
Upon hearing the words, Armin rushed to join his good friends, leaving you and Jean to look at each other utterly bewildered.
What frightened you was how un-bewildered Bertholdt was. His complexion got all grey when Armin and Mikasa struggled to get Eren’s body up to the rooftop.
“I thought Eren was...well...I mean I’m glad he isn’t,” you quickly said, “but I-I mean-”
“Yeah,” Reiner said. “So did we.”
Mikasa returned, her face still dripping with steady tears as she tenderly set Eren down. “He’s alive,” she said carefully. She sounded so calm. You couldn’t have guessed she was crying unless you’d been watching her.
Armin dizzily fell against a structure of rock that was built into the roof. “This can’t be,” he gasped.
“What’s wrong?” you instantly asked him.
“I watched,” Armin said. His eyes were wide, filled with horror and curiosity alike. “I watched him get e-” He broke off, covering his mouth with a fist as he seemed to gag on the words. “I watched,” he recovered, “him get eaten. His arm...his leg...”
Armin started to cry, too.
You tried not to feel too annoyed by this.
It’s not their fault you have no friends. No way you could really relate.
“How is this possible?” you asked when no one else did.
“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” Jean said, sound eerily calm. “Eren did all of this.” He looked out to the destruction; the corpses that steamed and the buildings that still settled to rubble.
That’s right; Eren did all of that.
“Eren’s a titan,” you gasped out.
Someone had to say it.
Jean’s eyes looked as if they were about to simply roll out of his skull. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not,” you argued. “The colossal. The armored. The two most dangerous abnormal in the entire world. They behave with the same intelligence Eren was obviously displaying not even thirty minutes ago.” You waved a hand out to gesture to the entire city. “Eren’s a titan. The other bastards are human, too. And now we have to figure it the fuck out.”
“Calm down,” Reiner eased you. He rested a heavy hand on your sholder, which you instinctively shook off. “Don’t tell me to calm down,” you seethed. “I’m RIGHT.”
“You’re having a breakdown,” Reiner said, blatant and uncaring. “You’re crying.”
You touched your finger to your cheek,
Oh.
So maybe you feel a little bit bad, now, for looking down at Mikasa and Armin for crying. You’re crying to.
You do have a heart.
“What do we do now?” Jean asked. “Who are we going to tell?”
“The captains. The corporals. The captain-corporals,” you listed off as you wiped your eyes. You looked away, turning a shoulder to Reiner. “But I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” someone demands.
“What person in their right mind is going to be alright with Eren being a-well, a whatever the hell he is? We should just law low for a while,” you said, using your hands to gesture the laying low.
For once, Jean looked more angry than confused. “So we’re going to keep it a secret? That’s so awesome, Y/n. We can all just have a little camp right here on the goddamn roof. We can build a fort. There’s enough of us to reproduce for a good two or three generations.”
“We’ll get in trouble,” you snapped back.
“Why would we get in trouble?!” Jean shouts. “Eren’s the one who’s a titan!”
Mikasa turned a stark glare onto Jean before he could take the words back. She clutched Eren’s limp body close to her chest. “You’ve never liked Eren,” she scowled. “It’s not a surprise you wouldn’t care what happens to him, even though he’s saved your life a good number of times today.”
The group fell silent.
You gnawed on the inside of your cheek as you looked out to the destruction of what was once Trost.
Knowing what you know about the assholes who call themselves captains, they wouldn’t take a matter like this lightly. You folded your arms over your chest, lightly stretching out your muscles which ached. Your back felt like the hoirizon at times, sitting unnoticed until you see that one gust of sunshine that burns your retinas.
The pain burned through your hips now, as you roughly massaged your back with your fist.
“I guess we have to split up,” Mikasa said after some minutes of pure silence.
You didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I will take responsibility for Eren,” she said. “I’ll speak for him while he cannot.”
“And me,” Armin interjected. He was determined to stay with his friends.
“Mikasa” you said carefully. You looked at Mikasa with an eyebrow raised. “We should move.”
Armin and Mikasa looked to one another; they were so close they could communicate with simple glances and stares.
The two hoisted each of Eren’s arms over their shoulders, able to carry him like a puppet as they prepared to move.
You didn’t speak much as you followed the group towards the wall. Eren remained unconscious the entire trip, even though he was soaring high in the sky. The general plan is that Armin and Mikasa could convince the commanders of what had happened, and that Eren isn’t a threat. Even before that, they’ve got to convince the commanders that their tall tale is true.
You know what will happen. They didn’t even want to help a group of stranded cadets. They’ll turn on Eren before Mikasa could even blink.
Not even she can protect Eren from an entire regiment.
You’d hoped that you would have been able to return to the wall with pride, and explain to Captain Brezenska that you’d succeeded in saving your friends. Maybe you were hoping you could have gotten full credit for that. But rather, it’s Eren who will be getting the attention.
You’re not jealous.
At the retreat center, there were soldiers bustling around in an undirected frenzy; people panicked, but they didn’t know exactly what they were supposed to panic for.
You were lined up with Jean, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, all of you remaining silent as Armin dutifully explained the entire situation. Mikasa sat with Eren strewn on her lap.
You listened, and realized that Armin has such a good way with words. You would have believed him if he told you the sky was yellow and cats could fly.
But his talent was hardly a gift; not now, at least. It took a little bit of blinking and opening, then closing their gaping mouths for the commanders to realize what they ought to do next. They seemed just as shocked as everyone else. Obviously there’s not protocol for when a human turns into a titan.
Despite Captain Brezenska’s presence, there was nothing she could when a tall, hawk~like captain with a nose twice as big as it should have been, stared all five of you down. His thin nose had elliptic nostrils that sagged practically to his moustache.
“You are all to receive immediate medical attention and rest. There will be no talking about this, to anyone. There will be sever punishment if this rumor gets out. We will know who leaked it.”
You meekly nodded, saluted, and agreed. There wasn’t much else you could do. You were dismissed with Reiner, Jean, and Annie-and how could you forget Bertholdt? As you five had retreated farther away from the group that studied Eren, you could see that a practical pond of sweat was forming on Bertholdt’s brow.
At the bottom of the wall, on the safe ground, where you were surrounded by your comrades, you doubled over, as if you were about to spew vomit all about, but rather, you laughed, a hysterical sort of sound that made Annie shuffle uncomfortably.
“Y/n,” Reiner said, again in that doting kind of voice, which you couldn’t really help but dislike.
“I’m going to get water,” you said through your teeth. “We’d better not say anything, to anyone.”
“Duh,” Jean sneered under his breath. As tou were walking away, you heard Jean note to the others, “She’s manic. She’s lost it. She’s all covered in blood...what happened to her?”
You would have told him to get shoved if you were in a better mood; but right now your back ached like utter hell, and your tongue was so spectacularly dry that it felt like a porous stone against the roof of your mouth.
You took a seat somewhere in the far corner where the perfect sheet of shade had been cast. You sat on a crate, guzzling down the water from the canteen you’d been supplied.
You could see Reiner and the others lurking around the other cadets they were closer with. Ymir and Krista were apart of that little group. You would have gone to say something, but you simply didn’t have the energy. You’re glad to see the two young women are alive, at least.
Not only were you too exhausted to meet them, but you were certain that the moment you joined Krista, the entire story would pour out of you. Krista had that strange sense of familiarity which effected everyone. She felt like a natural member of your family, even though you’d only known her a matter of three or so years. You’d without a doubt spill the entire thing, from Fable to the way Mikasa trembled with Eren’s body in her arms.
You’d heard that Mikasa was Eren’s sister, though through adoption. But Mikasa held him with such a higher regard. She didn’t hold him the way you would have held little Freda. There was something more between those two.
Perhaps just the way there’s something more than friendship between Ymir and Krista. You can see them across the lot. Ymir lingers over Krista like a guardian angel. It’s clear Ymir cares for Krista, maybe more than Krista cares for Ymir.
But when it comes to Krista, you know to never assume.
She’s as complex as she is beautiful.
You watched your old group sit around, looking ashy and sullen. Ymir and Krista’s figures leaned towards Jean as he spoke. His mouth barely moved when he spoke.
Something prickled within you. Did he tell?
He didn’t. You guessed this because Krista set her hand on Ymir’s arm as she looked back you. She touched Ymir so gently, as if she were saying a quick goodbye. She made her way through the little maze of resting cadets, calling your name a few times to catch your attention.
You took one more guzzle from your canteen as you leaned up against the brick wall.
“You didn’t come to say hello,” Krista said as she approached you. She sounded a bit saddened by this.
“I’m sorry,” you said weakly. “I’m just...tired. Glad you’re alive, though.”
Krista frowned deeply. You regret how sarcastic you sounded just then.
“What happened out there?” Krista asked you, her voice soft. You would have rather she expressed her anger. It is salt in the wound to know that she’d still be kind to you, even after you were consistently rude.
You took a deep breath. Your eyes shifted back to the foreground, focusing on Reiner, Jean, and the others. “What did they tell you?” you asked her.
“Absolutely nothing,” Krista said sorrowfully. “They’re being so ominous. What happened?”
You groaned. You thought about telling her. “Something spectacular,” you said carefully.
“Then why all the doom and gloom?” she fretted.
“It’s spectacular,” you amended, “but not exactly good. It’s not for me to tell.”
Krista frowned , her blonde brows furrowing. She looked deeply like a little rabbit as she thought long and hard. “Jean said you got a gag order,” she said.
“Jean’s right. I can’t say.”
Krista sighed. “I hope that everything will be alright, in the end,” she said.
You were flabbergasted. How could she be so positive in such a time? You weren’t so much concerned with the ‘end’ as you were with where the hell you were going to sleep tonight?
The little camp was doing its very best. Makeshift hospital stations dotted every few buildings. Carts that carried the dead and wounded rolled through the streets, past the little resting compounds where soldiers drank and cried and rested.
“You’re too good for this world, Krista,” you told her as you rested your head back against brick. “Get used to it.”
You immediately passed out.
Water rushed over your toes.
This water stretched out to the vast horizon, right where the sky took a dip and a curve down. This water was cold, yet refreshing. It washed your feet from the dirt and blood that caked your skin, all the way beneath your toenails.
You walked forward, the crystalline waves splashing so delicately it sounded like chiming bells. Your reflection followed you clearly, flashing with the scarlet blood your bare skin was soaked in. Despite all that blood, all the pain you’d felt, you felt utterly happy here. You waded deeper into the water, the waves splashing to your breasts now.
There was no sun in the sky. The only light came from deep within the water, which was so clear it gleamed bright white. You dove into the waves fresh water. The taste of fresh water on your tongue was sweet. You swam towards the source of light. It called out your name. It was a deep, baritone voice, but it rang gently, beckoning you.
In the very deepest grove of the water was a large pit. It was sculpted into thick, dark rock.
A pair of hands emerged from this pit, reaching out for someone to help them escape.
You swam forward, closer to those slender, pale hands that waited for someone to rescue him.
You reach out, your fingertips touching his-
“Wake up,” someone shouted.
You got jerked up to your feet, by the collars of your button down blouse. You met Ymir’s harsh eyes.
“What’s wrong?” you demanded.
“You’ve been sleeping,” she said bitterly. “Time to wake up, princess. Mandatory meeting. Krista didn’t want you to miss it.”
You were a bit stunned, and disoriented, as Ymir sauntered off to likely find Krista again. One hour of sleep seemed enough to get back to the job. Your back did ache, from the ignorant position you’d slept in slumped up against the brick wall of a building. You cringed as you walked, the pounding pain flying down your back and into your bottom as you struggled to make it to the line up.
It was a large square of a line up, right before the wall that was being walked upon by Eren, Mikasa, and Armin’s small dots of figures.
“That’s him,” a voice pipped beside you. Krista had joined tour side, and she pointed upwards to the bald man that was looking down at his domain. “That’s the commander, Pyxis.”
Pyxis called for an immediate attention. Your head was still fuzzy from the nap. The dream stayed lodged in the back of your mind, replaying like a theatre play over and over. Even as the rescue operation for Trost was explained, you were only half listening. You didn’t know what your peers knew, and what they didn’t.
Eren being a titan was announced for all to hear. Pyxis vouched for Eren, which alone was enough to convince the regiments to at least be not afraid of him.
The recovery operation labeled Eren as a research project. Pyxis would play it off like Eren’s being a titan was a secret that all the most important higher ups knew about, including the commanders at the Survey Corps, and the royals at the Interior.
Connie was the most shocked at the emergence of information. You just kept your mouth shut, trying not to let any reaction show on your face.
Eren, as a titan, would be lifting a boulder and using it to block off the hole in the wall. It would be your job (the collective ‘your’) to fend him from other titans that tried to get in the way of this being done.
Not many people believed this. You weren’t entirely positive they would appreciate you trying to vouch for the plan. Perhaps, if you did, you’d be marked as a liar, too.
“Someone’s asking for you,” Krista said in your ear.
You wrangled out of the crowd, being drawn to the side of a nameless solider whose hair was bright red. “You’re being requested at the expense of Captain Brezenska.”
Shocked, you folded your arms over your chest. “May I ask why?”
“She vouches that you are capable of being apart of the elite squad who defends Eren Jaeger.”
“We’re all defending Eren Jaeger,” you argued.
“Some more than others, maybe,” he agreed. “I have nothing else to offer aside from a direct escort to the captain and the commander.”
You nodded, offering a quick salute before following him like a puppy through the crowd.
At the top of wall, there was a little congregation of soldiers who gathered around Armin, each of them nodding and listening intently to whatever it was the blond had to say. You joined the group, resting on your knees and hiding a groan as your the muscle in your back stretched out uncomfortably.
“y/n!” Armin said, looking cheery. It was a strange display of emotion in the middle of what felt like a living Hell.
“Armin? Where’s the captain with the white hair?”
“She’s not here,” Armin explained. “I was the one who asked for you.”
So the captain hadn’t vouched for you. Although Armin did.
“You could have called for anyone but you called for the paraplegic?” you said. Armin looked bashful, as he looked down to his scroll of Trost.
“To be fair, the captain backed me up on it,” he added.
Oh. So the captain did.
“We’re just reviewing the plan for Eren.”
“And we decided to let you do that?” you asked. You were frankly puzzled that Armin, a cadet, was being trusted with such a major task. From the looks of it, the other soldiers agreed.
You regretted opening your mouth at all because Armin turned red all the way to his ears. “They trusted me because I have a long history with Eren,” he said. It was terrible that he didn’t even sound offended. Rather, apologetic that he’d caused you such a problem.
You would have rather he called you a bitch and told you to mind your own business. “So where does she play into all of this?” someone asked, pointing their finger at you.
“Y-Well she-” Armin stammered as he looked all over the map, as if trying to fit you in somewhere. “I’d like Y/n to be right beside Eren, but more realistically, she’d be better at the further ranks. Y/n, it would be ideal for you to be on Eren’s backup team. Can you do it?”
Sweat coated the back of your neck. You nodded.
If this plan failed, the world might as well be over.
Wall Sina could not protect humanity, alone. It simply wouldn’t be enough. Armin used a red detailing pencil to fit you into the map, and he looked to you for confirmation.
“You’re the man with a plan, blondie,” you told him, your words carefree but your tone stone-dead. “Wherever you want me is where I’ll be.”
After dismissal, you regrouped with Armin and his friends. You greeted Mikasa and Eren awkwardly.
You couldn’t help but drag your eyes down, unable to look the Jaeger boy in the face.
He laughed, the sound bitter. “I guess they’re all scared of me, right? I don’t know why, since it’s not even certain I can transform again.”
Your eyes shot up, growing wide. “Excuse me? Tell me we’re not taking a gamble on you transforming.”
Mikasa sent you a sharp glare. “Eren will be fine,” she said firmly.
“Will he?” you asked. “He was half dead when he did it the first time. I don’t want to offend you, but we have to be realistic. If Eren can’t transform again then the entire plan is lost.”
Mikasa took half a step forward before Eren stopped her. What would she had done if he hadn’t? Could you even take her on in a fight? Her skills were unparalleled, no matter how talented the others thought you were.
“Y/n’s right,” Eren said in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” Armin suddenly cut in. “I’m sorry that you’re being burdened of all this responsibility.”
You didn’t have the same ideas Armin did. You weren’t concerned with Eren’s “burden” at the moment. It felt like you all had a burden on your shoulders, but when you looked at it objectively, the entire mission relied on Eren. He’s hardly an adult, and he’s only turned for the first time an hour ago.
“No,” Eren said, shaking his head. He became so gentle with Armin. “I told you before that you have a gift for strategy. I believe in your plan.”
“Eren,” Mikasa said quietly. She reached to take hold of his sleeve. “I think it would be best if I went with you.” She seemed so confident as she spoke, that normal Mikasa fire burning in her eyes.
“No, dammit,” Eren said firmly. “You’re apart of the decoy team. “
Mikasa looked genuinely saddened. It was like rejecting a puppy’s nudge for cuddles. “I can’t leave you alone,” she said, her voice wounded. Her fire was doused.
“I’m not your brother,” Eren said, his voice raising slightly. “I’m not your child, either.”
Your eyes met Armin’s. He looked just as uncomfortable as you did. You both seemed to bond over the fact this was a private conversation.
Mikasa really looked like she would burst into tears at any moment. “Okay,” she said softly. She yielded, though it seemed to be against what she considered her better judgement. You looked between the pair before you nodded yourself out. “I will see you out there,” you muttered before walking away. It would be better to just stay out of their personal affairs, especially right now. You only hope that Mikasa won’t let her feelings cloud her mind out on the field. The last thing you need is her being too distracted to save you from the grasp of a titan. You joined the line up, standing straight as Captain Bresenzka looked you over.
“So you succeeded, cadet,” she said, her narrow eyes glinting behind her lenses. “All of your friends made it. Is that thanks to you?”
“No, ma’am,” you said. “Armin Arlert deserves more credit for that. He devised the plan that rescued everyone.”
She quirked her brow before nodding.
“Alright, everyone,” one of the captains boomed, his voice demanding your attention. “I don’t care what they say about Eren. I don’t care if he really is a human weapon, or not. All I want is that hole sealed. We’re counting on you all to make this work.”
The large group took off into a run down the wall’s path. You looked out over the horizon that was a crisp gold. It showered light over the titans that clamored over the town.
As the group closed in on the boulder that was picked for the mission, you noticed that the titans grew more and more sparse. The decoy team on the other half of the town must have been working. Your lungs burned as you saw Eren make a jarring leap off the edge of the wall, his mate Mikasa following a split second after.
Captain Bresenzka pulled a flare pistol from your belt and fired a signal into the air, the green fumes smelling like smoke in your nose.
You had one opportunity to catch your breath as the Elites on the squad awaited Eren’s transformation. You didn’t know what to be watching out for. You’d never seen a titan transformation up close.
But moments later, a familiar zing filled the air, followed by a violent strike of lightening so bright it was unnatural. The taste of the electricity filled the air as Eren’s titan stood up tall and released a war mongering cry. He looked more human than any titan did. Rather, he had a body of correct proportion. Titans are either thin as ice, their skin clinging onto their ribcages grossly, or their bellies are round and wide, filled with their choice of prey.
But Eren was neither of those. He was muscular, tall, and his hair even had a graceful sort of way of blowing in the wind around his jade eyes.
You followed the Elites to the rooftops to linger close behind. You watched with anticipation. No amount of humans would be able to lift that boulder, but for Eren in this form, it would probably be like lifting a bale of hay over his head.
He lingered close for a moment. You frowned, half expecting him to struggle for a few minutes.
Then, he spun around and took a winding punch at one of the buildings Mikasa rested on. And it wasn’t enough for him to miss. His eyes followed her as she darted up, like a lizard on a wall, and he struck again.
“We failed,” Captain Bresenzka swore as she jostled around for her tin of flares. “We never should have pinned our hopes to something we don’t fully understand.”
The red smoke fired into the sky as you scaled a chimney. You called out Mikasa’s name. She was gripping Eren by the hair, her feet pushed firmly onto his large teeth for support. “Get out of there!” you shouted to her.
She split a second before Eren lunged-at you.
His body seemed to be falling over you, as if he was trying to take the entire house down. You slipped off the chimney, a piece of brick shredding deep into your leg as you did so, and you narrowly escaped.
Mikasa pulled you to safety, helping you stand as one of Captain Dietriech swore loudly. “So the kid’s been a regular titan this entire time?!” he exclaimed.
You looked at Mikasa deeply in the eyes as she held you up. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. “What happened?” you wheezed.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. Her voice is filled with regret.
“We need to leave,” someone else exclaimed. “We’ve got a 12 meter bastard coming on us. The kid’s out of the play.”
“He’s right,” Captain Bresenzka agreed. “We should withdrawal immediately. We’ll have to leave Eren as he is.”
Mikasa became vicious upon hearing the words. You could feel her desperation as clearly as you could feel her thin hands gripping your sleeves.
“How could you say that?” Mikasa hissed. Her teeth ground together on their edges, and you had to wrench your arms out of her iron like grip. Captain Dietreich even seemed to shiver under Mikasa’s gaze.
“We did the best we could,” Mitabi urged Dietreich. “It was a bust. We’ve got to accept that it isn’t going to work!”
Mikasa took a flourishing step, her arm already swinging to catch velocity so she could push Mitabi to his end.
“Enough, Ackerman,” Dietreich eased her.
You looked back to Eren. He said up against the boulder, shoulders and head slumped down as if he were contemplating his entire life. Maybe he was.
“Change of plans,” Dietreich said gruffly. “Defend Jaeger until he recovers.”
Bresenzka made a floundering stumble towards the captain, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “Are you out of your mind?” she cried. “We-”
“We,” Ian said firmly, “are replicable. Eren is not. He’s the last chance we have to make things work. His gift is a remarkable one, even if he can’t utilize it right now. It’s our duty to do so.”
“He’s a failure,” Bresenzka bemoaned. “He got soldiers killed. Good soldiers, soldiers I’ve known since my days as a cadet. Look at him! He’s punched his own hands off. You want to get more of us killed, just so you can save that?”
The captain had a point. Eren had lunged at Mikasa, and he’d lunged at you, and he’d been so violent that his hands broke off. He was smoking from where the bones in his wrist had splintered.
“That’s correct,” Ian bit back. He was holding back spasms of anger as he clenched his fists by his side. “I expect you to do the same. Hell, I’m making a judgement call. That boy’s power is all we have. You know it. So unless you’ve got a better plan, keep your mouth shut!”
Bresenzka’s chin dimpled as her jaw clenched hard enough to break her teeth. “If by better plan, you mean a way to get rid of these titans, than no. I don’t know. Obviously.”
“And that,” Ian said, “is exactly why we’re not retreating.”
The staggering silence that followed was deafening. You could practically hear the thoughts churning in the captain’s mind as she visibly mulled her friend’s words over.
“...Fine.”
“Fine?” Ian repeated.
“Yes,” the captain said sharply, “fine. It’s not as if I want to disagree with you. Don’t you think that I also want to avenge my lost friends? I also want to live in a world of peace. I would like to have just one fight that doesn’t end in our attrition.”
She used a shaking hand to brush her light bangs from her face. “If this is what my orders are, then I will follow them.”
Bresenzka leapt away to take care of the 12 meter, while Mitabi cracked his fingers and neck. “I guess we’ve got this,” he said to Dietreich before rushing towards the other titans that were approaching.
Mikasa cleared her throat to capture Deitreich’s attention. “Thank you,” she said. “That was brave, standing up to them the way you did.”
Dietreich could hardly make a joke out of it as he passed Mikasa’s words off. “It wasn’t bravery. I was speaking the truth. Fact of the matter is,” he said as he cast a look towards Mikasa, “I was afraid of the mess you might have gotten yourself into. But you’re free to go, now. Make use of your natural skills, the both of you.” He addressed you, now, and you were shocked to hear it. “You’re both on this Elite squad for a reason.”
He looked at Mikasa next, a strange sort of smile on his mouth. “Now, go. Protect the man you love.”
Mikasa’s pale face became red as her scarf, which she tugged at to hide behind. “It’s not like that with Eren,” she was stammering; but Ian already left.
You looked at Mikasa with careful regard, half afraid to say the wrong thing. “Well, it’s not!” Mikasa exclaimed again. You couldn’t help but find it amusing-she’d never been the ‘normal’ type of girl. She had never shown any sort of emotion before. But now, even during the chaos of the day, she was blushing like crazy, all because her crush on Eren was finally acknowledged.
“At least you have someone to love,” you pointed out. You hadn’t considered it before, but it must be nice to be in love.
Especially to have someone be in love with you.
That thought weighed particularly heavy on your mind as your gear zipped while you tore through the sky. Not many titans were drawn to the sight of Eren, or even the sight of you twirling around the air. The decoys must have been doing an excellent job on the other side of the district.
What would happen? What would they do, especially now that the red flare has signaled Eren’s failure?
Your blades steamed with the blood of three small titans whom you had killed consecutively. Your lungs burned as you latched your gears onto the side of a taller church and rested your head against the rough stone.
With a wheeze, you looked out to the sun once more. It would have to be low noon by now. There is still several hours till nightfall, but you can’t help worrying that you won’t survive to see your bed.
There came a crash and puff of debris in the air each time a titan went down. The sounds were reassuring enough, but you still couldn’t catch a break. It started to seem that when you killed two titans, four more would appear. The numbers were slowly increasing. Had they become bored by the display of prey they could not catch? The decoys must have slowly lost priority, as they burned more energy trying to catch what would just be a light snack.
You hear your name being cried out, and before you can look around, you feel the large fingers of a titan pick you up by the hair. You screamed and thrashed, your blades cutting into his palms enough for you to slip out of his grip.
“Y/n!” someone shouted again as you scrambled to the rooftop Mikasa was watching Eren from.
You bit your tongue, trying not to cry as you palmed the crown of your head. Sticky blood stained your hand, and you could feel it slipping down your neck. “It’d be great if Eren woke up, now,” you said with a taut voice.
Mikasa did look after Eren’s large form, slumped against the boulder that had once been a beacon of hope. You noticed the splintered ends of his arms had not yet formed hands. “I thought he would regenerate,” you told her as smeared your blood onto your pants.
“I thought so, too,” Mikasa said coolly. “I thought...well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. There are more and more titans drawing in.”
“I noticed,” you groaned. “They must be getting sick of the decoys.”
Mikasa pointed her blade out, towards the gate where four 10 meter titans were stumbling in like drunkards. “Two and two?”
“Why not?” you grumbled.
Mikasa’s running steps were in complete unison with yours, and together, you both leapt off the roof and tore through the wind. It stung your eyes as you navigated to the titans.
You don’t want to be angry with her, or with Eren, or even with Armin. You’re angry at something, or someone. Someone had to get Eren to snap out of it. You don’t care who. You’d go over yourself to cut him out and slap some sense into him if Mikasa would let you, but she’d likely kill you before you got the blade mounted in his nape.
You took out your two titans with ease. As you wiped sweat from your brow, you could see that more and more were trampling the distract grounds. It felt so close to being done.
Yes, you’ve felt that way several times in the past few hours, but right now, it feels real. It’s a suffocating feeling of dread that passed over you, leaving you to burst into a fit of trailing tears. Your life would end today. It would, right? It wasn’t Eren’s fault, it wasn’t a matter of ‘fault.’ It is a matter of the world being the way it is.
You thought of the dream you’d had not but forty minutes ago, of the slender hands stretching towards you from the water’s floor.
The rumbling and the crash caught your attention. Half of you expected to look up and see the wall crumbling to pieces. But your eyes beheld a most beautiful sight. Eren Jaeger’s muscular titan body cradled the boulder on his shoulder.
His steps boomed across the district and as they did you couldn’t help but scream and jump with joy. You cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled as strongly as you could, “Go, Eren!”
You’d marry that boy. That’s how happy you are at the moment. You zoomed into the air, seized by the sudden confidence that life would be great; that you’d die an old woman surrounded by friends and family and content with the world you were leaving. You conquered every titan you came across, their corpses toddling to the ground like babies walking down the stairs for the first time.
For such a large figure, Eren moved awfully slow. You wheezed for air as you followed after the titans that Mitabi’s team was distracting. The floundering humans must have been like mice to a cat sine the titans turned a blind eye to Eren. He moved to goddamn slow. You silently urged for Eren to burst into a quick sprint. For a titan it would take no more than ten seconds to jog across the lot and block the wall off. But Eren was already feeling weak anyways. That’s all you can assume since he’d been out of order.
His body steamed as he shook across the way. You flocked to the outer rim of the formation that focused on distracting the titans. A smaller, flightier abnormal crawled down the roads like a lizard up a wall. You flew into the air, surfing the windstream and landing uneasily on the titan’s back. He didn’t stop like you’d expected to. You staked a blade into the titan’s shoulder to steady yourself as he galloped straight for Eren. Your arms burned as you crawled up the way to his nape. You held onto the handle of your blade as you stood. For a moment it felt like freedom in its most euphoric form. You rode the titan as it raced to Eren and at the cusp of him leaping into Eren’s path, you sliced a large chunk out of his nape. The titan shuddered beneath your feet, and you clutched onto the rough strands of hair to keep from flying off the corpse and into a building.
You rolled to the ground with a cough as dust kicked up into your face.
You stumbled out of the burning cloud of steam, coughing into your elbow as you looked around. You saw Eren just reaching the gape in the wall. With a roar that made you clutch your ears, Eren doubled over and set the boulder straight into the wall. The wall rumbled as stone grated against stone, pieces of dust flying up around Eren’s face.
Your sank to your knees, clutching your back that screamed out in pain. You were grateful. Grateful to be alive, even if the stabbing feeling in your back made you want to die. Grateful for the people that had given their lives for this mission.
You limped towards Eren’s kneeling figure. “Mikasa!” You called as you clutched your back. “We’ve got to get back.”
The green smoke had been shot out as a sign that the mission was successful. But as much as you’d wished it was over...
Captain Bresenzka alerted you as she jogged straight to your side. “The reinforcements will be on their way, but there are still titans that haven’t cleared out of the city.”
“She won’t leave without Eren,” you told the captain. You ran unevenly down the walkway of loose wood, falling in line with Mikasa. “Armin...?” you asked her through a gasp.
“He arrived to help with Eren,” Mikasa told you. She cupped her hands around her mouth as she called to the blond. “How is he?!”
“H-He’s passed out,” Armin called back, sounding breathless as he struggled to cut Eren free from his second form. “He’s also scorching hot.”
Captain Bresenzka followed you and Mikasa to sit on the hunched back of Eren’s second body. You were in awe at the sight. His limbs were engulfed in the inflamed tendons of his other self. It felt twice as hot by the open nape than it did in the sauna.
Armin tried to tug Eren from the fusion, and the sound was like a thick rubber band being stretched to the max. “He’s fused to the carcass!” Armin exclaimed.
“We could cut fifty centimeters past where his hands should be,” you said, running your hands down the steaming muscle and trying to feel for Eren’s limbs.
“There’s not time to be so safe,” the captain said stonily. “We cut him out now.”
“Wait!” Mikasa exclaimed frantically. “We don’t know what that could do! What if he heals wrong?”
But the captain didn’t listen. “Move over,” you said to Armin, taking your arms around Eren to pull him back and make the muscle as taut as possible. The captain sliced through the stringy mass while Mikasa closed her eyes, beads of tears slipping into her long eyelashes. You could tell she cared deeply for Eren.
Perhaps she did love him.
You couldn’t imagine withstanding the sight of the man you loved in such a state.
Captain Brezenska sliced too quickly before you could push Eren down to his side. You tumbled down the carcass’s back with Eren’s limp body falling on top of you.
Your skin burned as you were wedged between Eren’s feverish body and the hard ground. Tears formed in your eyes as you felt a sharp stone puncture the skin of your back and molest that goddamned spot that bothered you daily.
You wriggled beneath the young man. “Wake up, Jaeger,” you said firmly.
Your eyes went wide as they caught sight of the anomolies that covered all the sunshine the setting sun was casting.
“Wake up, Eren!” you screamed.
Two large titans beamed down at you.
You shook Eren as hard as you could, screaming for help from someone, anyone.
That dream flashed before your eyes. Those pale hands were reaching for you out of love; they were going to drag you down to the pits of hell. You’d mistaken their beautiful nimbleness, their delicacy, for kindness.
Just when you thought everything would end, a large splash of blood splat from the two titans, promptly dropping dead.
You dropped your head back against the stone, sobbing in relief.
Eren stirred in your arms, sitting up so that you were both supporting each other’s weight. “We’re saved,” you rasped in Eren’s ear. “It was Mikasa,” you said as you watched her kneel on her kill.
It was not Mikasa. Mikasa had leapt from the shoulder of Eren’s titan, kneeling beside you and Eren. She scooped him into her arms, quietly thanking you. But thanking you for what?
“Who is that?” Mikasa asked as she hastily brushed Eren’s hair from his sweaty forehead.
You looked up to see your savior, whose figure blocked out the setting sun. The forest green cloak did not wield solemn red roses, or even the gaudy blades that announced the cadets.
The figure gracefully navigated down to the ground.
You were in shock when you saw the face of the person that had saved you. He was starkly beautiful, his face all sculpted, fine edges, and his eyes steely grey. But they were narrow, glaring at all three of you cadets as he sheathed his steaming blades. “This is the part where someone tells me what’s going on,” he said sternly.
You stammered for the words to answer the man as you staggered to your feet.
“Y/n!” Mikasa shouted.
She rushed to your side, Eren miraculously forgotten, and placed a warm hand over your back. “You’re bleeding,” you told her, feeling her fingers smear warm, sticky blood into your back.
“That’s you,” Mikasa said.
You strained to look back at your wound. A large stain of blood certainly did cover your shirt. The rock. You recalled that puncture you’d felt when Eren fell on top of you, but it hadn’t felt that bad.
“It’s nothing,” you brushed it off, attempting to salute to the new man.
The earth seemed to tumble beneath your feet. You slipped on nothing and fell to the ground, becoming a crumpled heap of blood and sweat at Mikasa’s feet.
The strange man knelt above you, his intimidating eyes peering deep into yours. “She’s already half gone,” he said plainly.
“I’m not,” you argued, your voice raspy.
The man turned you to your side. He pulled your shirt up to catch sight of your wound. “She needs immediate medical attention,” he said before he pushed you to lay flat.
“Bad day, lieutenant?” he said, gripping you by the hand tightly to keep you awake.
“’M not a lieutenant,” you rasped, wrenching your hand away. “I’m a cadet.”
“Color me shocked,” the man said, looking mildly surprised. “Hey shit heads,” he said, looking after someone else. “Get someone!”
“Who should we get?” Armin’s voice replied at a vague distance.
“Fucking hell,” the man said. He looked down at you with a pinched expression of frustration. “I’m sure death feels like a better option than working with those idiots,” he told you. “But you’re not going.”
“I’m not going to die,” you told him. “I’m not...”
“Hey!” He shook your shoulders hard, your head rattling about. “Get your eyes open, that’s an order,” he demanded.
“I’m not dying,” you scowled. “I’m just slipping,” you said. “I’m slipping in the water. I think that it’s you.”
“Who’s me?” he asked.
“I think you’re the man from my dreams,” you told him before finally closing your eyes.
#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi x reader#levi imagine#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan imagine#attack on titan#levi#levi fanfic#starfirette writes#alstroemeria
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#2 for the whole squad pls!
OC Asks || Accepting
2. What do strangers notice about them first?
This got kinda long but it's simple quick things for each...uhh...some got kinda outta hand from "what others notice" to just "hey, here's what you'd notice" lol
The Deities
Ineas -> Bright pink hair! Wait...is it changing colors?! Oh, now it's purple?
Phyxhena -> Heterochromia eyes (her left is yellow and right is green)
Erdia -> Gothic and/or witchy outfits (and vibes)
Elous -> The stoic/knowledgeable air he gives off
Rozotl -> Radiates heat in a like fifteen foot radius...kinda hard to miss that lol
Phiona -> Her caring eyes! She hides nothing within them, everything is on display within them.
Duaris -> Smol tiny lady (5' tall short)
Ziphin -> The exact opposite effect as their brother (Rozotl)...super cold when around them!
Dhaagriel -> Literally has heart eyes (his pupils are shaped like hearts)
Marena -> What didn't they notice? I mean, Goddess of Pleasure so naturally....people notice everything...well, with her they do.
Ryione -> Has the moral high ground always. Sorry, Anakin...
Nuren -> Tol. He's 9'3....stupid tol dream demon....
Mennir -> Wears too many watches or times with clocks or hourglasses on them?? Like why do you need those dude??? ..oh right...deity of time...but like you should know??? Do you hand those out???
Cyklous -> Blood shot eyes....like dude pls go get those checked out
Ketix -> Half skeleton. Don't shake their boney hand pls
Edon -> No one's seen them in several centuries and oddly enough can't remember anything about them. How odd.
Ydis -> Duty bound. Born and breed soldier to a T. Will not hesitate to punch you. Feisty tol lady.
Xula -> Wife to feisty lady. Honor bound.
Mithos -> Were your feelings hurt upon meeting them?? Because they tell the honest and sometimes brutal truth.
Dharen -> Another tol boi...why the fuck are some of these deities so tall?? I mean, who needs a 7'1 tall God of Battle??? ...though that is intimidating to meet on the battlefield so....
Zodia -> Tol lady 😍 (7'4)
Lydon -> Snow White is that you??? Why the fuck you got so many birds and shit following around you???
Logen -> Why did he just commit himself to you??? Oh-- oh no he's being loyal...okay, yep makes even less sense now.
Varos -> Why are their teeth so sharp? Why is there a twinkle in their eyes?? Oh god they just did something tricky didn't they??
Phaion -> Why did they just ask you to pick a card??
Kexvian -> Stop speaking in riddles please it hurts to think
Cyias -> Oh god...it's Cyklous' brother. Wait-- I was joking! You're actually his brother?! Shit that makes sense...you're both so fucking angry.
Venmos -> Not everything has to be orderly dude!
Veella -> Please stop making so many baby yodas....please....this has to stop, honey.
Aean -> dO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING EVER AGAIN. YOU LITERALLY JUST DESTROYED STEVE'S SHOP. ALSO STOP BEING ANGRY WITH ME WHEN IT WAS YOUR FAULT DUDE.
Rothar -> Thor is that you?? I don't remember you being so....well....that.
Ragen -> Ẃ̷̢̧̙̳̘̝̣̫̳̙̋̋́̐͆̀ẖ̷͉͈̼̊̎̎ẏ̷̢͂ ̷̛̘̩̳͓̩̰̣̲̮̐̍̔̏c̸̤̙̫̓͐̔̊̔̌̇͠a̴̢͙̞̥̟̘̣̘̣͒̎̈́̀͛͝n̵̖̠̮̮̭̉́̎̿͝͠ͅ'̵̹́̌͝͝t̶̛͙̬̱̺̤͕̹̜͉̓̀̎͆̈́͛ͅ ̸̡̛̪̠̯̻͚͌̋̉͂͆͗̇I̵͎̫̻̣͉̐̀͠ ̴̤̤̘͖̉͑̈́͋̆̃̎̕̚r̶̢̠̋ẹ̸̛̼̭̼̻͖͉̄̈̀̎̒͆̅̆͂m̷͈̖͕͔̄e̵̓̉��̡͚̟͚̰̰́͆̈́m̶̯͚̖̳͑̽b̸͚̤͖̃̐́̓̒̌̂͆̇̿ę̷̗̭̭̪̹̮̮͋́͋̿͜͝͝͝͠͠ṙ̷͖̓̂͆̂̄͝ ̶̬̖̲̣͉͇͖̟̿͋͊̈́͐͗͘̚͘y̷̧̮͂̂̌́̊̓̒͝ŏ̴̳̹̙̭̪̖̻̜̙̗͆͑̀̑̏̕ų̶̼̼͇̗͔͖̖͚̺͛ṟ̶̨̬̖̺͇͓͍͉͗̑͌̚͠ ̵͖̇́̌̈́̈͑̃f̵̟̠͋̂͝a̴̭̿́̄͗c̵̪̝̙̣̈͜ê̴̛͖̆͘͝͝?̴͍͍̎̈͛̈́͊̇͠ͅ
The Others
Nixilei -> You're so pretty and I just...wanna smooch? Wait-- no-- I shouldn't- How did I get here? I was at the market...with....I can't remember her name....
Nox von Aurwel -> I never knew Death employed people.....or...no....since when did Death wander the streets??
Vakas -> He's a very handsome elf! Though....I can't quite place it...but I think there's something off about him. Maybe it's just my imagination! He's done nothing but right by me.
Rissu -> Awe~! She's such a tiny little thing (4'4)...never thought aliens would look like that either...quite humanoid.
Vaemmaentie -> Her black scales! Is she part lizard? No...lizards aren't known for horns like that...dragon? No, those are extinct!
Ry Daevon -> There's something otherworldly about them....like something's with them but you can't see it. Maybe it's just their magicks! Magick is impossible to simply explain so yeah. That must be it!
#burnlaws#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ || ɪɴᴇᴀꜱ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ || ᴘʜʏxʜᴇɴᴀ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ/ꜰᴀᴛᴇ || ᴇʀᴅɪᴀ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏʀᴀᴄʟᴇꜱ || ᴇʟᴏᴜꜱ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ || ʀᴏᴢᴏᴛʟ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀɪᴛʏ || ᴘʜɪᴏɴᴀ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʏ || ᴅᴜᴀʀɪꜱ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ || ᴢɪᴘʜɪɴ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ || ᴅʜᴀᴀɢʀɪᴇʟ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ || ᴍᴀʀᴇɴᴀ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴇꜱ || ʀʏɪᴏɴᴇ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ || ɴᴜʀᴇɴ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛɪᴍᴇ || ᴍᴇɴɴɪʀ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴇɴɢᴇᴀɴᴄᴇ || ᴄʏᴋʟᴏᴜꜱ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀʟɪꜰᴇ || ᴋᴇᴛɪx#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴏʙꜱᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ || ᴇᴅᴏɴ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴜᴛʏ || ʏᴅɪꜱ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ || xᴜʟᴀ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ || ᴍɪᴛʜᴏꜱ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ || ᴅʜᴀʀᴇɴ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢꜱ || ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ || ʟʏᴅᴏɴ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ || ʟᴏɢᴇɴ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋꜱ || ᴠᴀʀᴏꜱ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ || ᴘʜᴀɪᴏɴ#ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇꜱ || ᴋᴇxᴠɪᴀɴ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ || ᴄʏɪᴀꜱ#ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ || ᴠᴇɴᴍᴏꜱ#ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ || ᴠᴇᴇʟʟᴀ
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