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icysnails · 6 months

Note

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man.

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either.

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel.

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well?

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family.

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you.

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents.

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you.

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand.

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time?

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt.

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world.

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel.

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you.

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears.

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?”

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time.

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you.

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face.

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced.

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills.

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either.

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys.

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them.

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home.

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?”

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion.

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began.

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade.

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so.

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry.

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar.

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering.

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling.

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace.

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you.

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless.

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #blade x reader platonic #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #stellaron hunters x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr angst #hsr fluff #blade x you #hsr x you #kafka x you #silver wolf x you #honkai star rail #platonic #angst

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honeybeedrabble · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 10: Cheating - Sasuke x AFAB!Reader

CW: Sasuke x AFAB!reader, cheating sasuke, guilt, sex pollen venom, dubcon (maybe ??), unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), multiple creampie (again don’t be stupid), oral (m receiving), overstimulation, rough sex at the end, breast play, improper use of genjutsu, mention of pricking reader with kunai to release genjutsu, lmg what i missed !!

18+ MDNI

You and Sasuke were sent out on a mission to capture a rogue ninja from just beyond the hidden leaf. There were sighting of her in the land of fire, so you two were scouted out for days, searching for the genjustsu user. Finally you two had tracked her location- more specifically you did. Sasuke had left you alone for only a few minutes when you were ambushed. The woman appeared out of nowhere throwing a kunai at you, which you were able to dodge.

“Thank god that pretty boy left you alone, I was nervous I wouldn’t get the chance to fight you!” She sneered. You lunged, weaving fire style hand signs- something you were told she was weak against. She gasped, getting struck by the small embers that emanated from your attack.

The genjustsu user was quick on offense, spraying a water style attack to combat your first move. Steam surrounded you, and you were alert, ready for her to pop out at any moment for whatever she had left. You could sense the enemy’s chakra behind you and when you turned around she sprang out. She was quick, but no match for your reflexes.

You grabbed her by the arm and threw her down to the ground, she crashed into the dirt with a grunt.

“SHIT!” She gritted through her teeth. You were about to land the finishing blow when suddenly you felt a vine creeping up your leg.

“W-What?!” You were shocked, rose vines growing from nowhere and tying you up, the thorns piercing your skin and where they had punctured you, you felt a burning sensation, far beyond just a simple wound.

“Earth style- roses temptation genjustsu!” She exclaimed. You fell back, the thorns creeping up higher and higher up your thighs. You felt your core tighten and your body temperature raise. You were starting to sweat, a painful arousal stirring in your loins almost immediately.

You heard you name being shouted from beyond the tree line. The genjustsu user swore, before making a break for it. You saw your comerade rushing into the scene, watching you writhe in lustful agony.

“What did she do? How did she hurt you?” Sasuke asked, kneeling down worried at your side. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you felt electricity through your veins from the simple touch.

“Ngh- AH!” You moaned loud. “S…She said it was a genjustsu…” You were able to make out. Sasuke grabbed a kunai from his side pouch, slicing the growing vines off of you and pricking you with the sharp tip to try and break the genjustsu. You let out another moan, thighs clamping together tightly. Sasukes eyes widened, he swallowed deeply, you watched mesmerized as his adams apple bobbed up and down before he licked his lips.

“It… It’s not working. It hasn’t broken…” You whimpered, feeling a drop of arousal coat the inside of your panties. The sensation alone was enough to have you arching your back. “S-Sasuke…” You gasped, writhing in the fluffy grass.

“I-I don’t know what to do… Ive never seen… this kind of genjustsu before!” His face was red, and he clutched the kunai tightly. “I’m going to find her and force her to break it-“

“No! D-Don’t you dare leave m-me like this…” You said with fear. “Sasuke I need your help… P-please. It hurts…” Tears ran down your eyes, your hand rested on your breast as you played with it to release some tension. You moaned, biting your lip and looking up at the Uchiha man through your eyelashes.

Sasuke couldn’t deny he was at least slightly aroused by your lewd display, begging him for “help” which he knew meant was to fuck you. He watched you cry and thrash against the ground, your face red with embarrassment while you were at your most desperate with carnal desires. His comerade was in trouble- how could he deny her the help she needed?! Especially when you’re in oh so much pain… The guilt sat heavy on his mind, needing to fuck his partner while his wife was at home worried about his well being.

Before he could make up his mind you got up and pounced on him, bringing him to the ground. He gasped, feeling you grind against his erection between both your layers. You moaned, the feeling of his hard member against your pained clit was a relief like no other. Watching his face redden while you were on top of him only turned you on more. He let out soft sounds, his hand resting on your waist as you rolled your hips into him.

“Ngh- i-it’s just a genjustu. It’s all in your head, you have to fight it!” Sasuke stammered, although his hips rutting back against you was telling a different story.

Pins and needles were all over your body, your cunt was aching to be filled by him- you needed to feel the stretch of cock on a carnal level, tearing at his shirt, crying through the pain of your animalistic craving.

“It’s doesn’t feel like one…” you huff, his shirt coming off and revealing his muscular abs. Sasuke sat up, his hand coming off of your waist and tangling in your hair.

“You… we… need to fight it…” he said softly, face inches away from yours.

“I can’t think straight Sasuke… I need you.” You closed the gap, lips crashing into his own. He didn’t follow his own advice, tanging his tongue with yours the second he was able to slip past your lips.

You pulled your shorts off, then reached for his pants and unbuttoned them, zipping his zipper down and tugging his boxers waistband to the side. His cock sprung loose, his angry red tip lathered with precum. You bent down and shoved him down your throat, he grunted, pulling your hair.

You shoved him down the back of your throat, playing with your cunt from outside your panties. You felt your slick seep through, making your fingers slippery. You used that hand to fondle his balls, starved for his cum.

“Ngh- ahh- shit. It’s t-too much… I… I can’t…” He whimpered, shooting a fat load into your mouth. You gratefully swallowed, playing with your pained pussy to release the tension. The heavenly taste of his salty spend on your tongue was enough to have you seeing stars, plunging your index and middle finger into your weary hole, pulsing around your fingers.

You kept sucking, his legs twitching as you sucked him dry and then some. His eyes began to water, moaning your name to you in the forest. His mind was racing, thinking about Sakura, wishing she had this kind of a mouth on her. He felt awful, drooling over the feeling of your sloppy sucking and comparing it to that of his wife. He felt even worse, knowing yours was better.

“I- oh fuck,” He stammered, eyes threatening to roll back. “I-Is that it? Is it over?” He asked, pulling you off his dick, watching you lick your lips. You shook your head.

“It’s worse now,” you blubbered, face red. Your eyes were still full of tears, a pained expression on your face. Sasuke wanted to help you- really- but he felt awful at the idea of fucking you.

“I…”

“I know, I know. I’ll do the work, just please Sasuke! My fingers can’t get the job done, it’s hell! My skin feels like it’s burning.” You threw your compression shirt off, tits spilling out. His eyes were fixed on them, you felt his cock harden underneath you again.

“Make it quick…” he muttered, licking his lips.

You quickly mounted him, stuffing his girthy cock into your sopping hole, moaning loudly as you took him balls deep. Sasuke grunted, ashamed of his reactions as he twitched inside of you. You rocked back and forth on him, clit brushing up against his dark hair and your jaw hung loose as you coated his loins with your arousal.

Sasuke stifled a moan, watching your tits bounce up and down as you rode him. He attached his lips to your hard nipple and you cried, pushing his head deeper into your breasts. He licked at your tits, silencing his groans into your chest, embarrassed he was so sensitive from a woman who wasn’t even his wife.

“FUCK! Y-yes sasuke! M-More!” You yelped, feeling your core tighten as your thighs shook.

You came desperately, choking his shaft with your velvety walls as you leaked on his lap. Sasuke moaned, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead while you pumped yourself on him, using his hard cock like he were a simple toy. It was too much for him, he shot hot spurts of cum deep inside of you, your toes curled and you clamped you eyes shut, feeling the euphoria from being so unbelievably stuffed.

It was so perplexing, never had Sasuke been fucked so desperately, this type of sexual energy he wasn’t used to and all he could do was curse himself for enjoying it so much.

He panted, falling back, hitting the ground with his spine as he waited for you to get off of him. But you didn’t. You sat on his cock, breathing heavily with your hands splayed on his chest. While you felt slightly better, you were still at the mercy of your arousal. Sasukes eyes shot open as you slowly started bobbing up and down his shaft again.

“W-What? That’s not enough?” He asked shocked, brows furrowed as your hips rose and fell back against him.

Your eyes were still red, face scrunched into a tortured grimace, teeth gritting as you kept at it.

“N-Not even close.” He let out a whimper, biting his lower lip as he watched his sticky cum leak out of you and stick to where your sexes met, stretching into a stringy mess when you came off, just to pool again when you came down on him.

He threw his head back, hips thrusting into you against his will, diving his overstimulated cock into your tight, wet cunt, bottoming out with a shudder each time his tip hit your hilt. He grabbed one of your tits, thumb rolling over your nipple eliciting a growl from deep within your gut.

You threw your hands on the ground, one on each side of his head. You began to ride him faster, sounds of moans and the slapping from your wet skin on eachother filling the woods. He cried out your name panicked.

“Please! I cant… oh god…” Sasukea legs twitched, hips hitting the grass as he lost his energy.

“Sasuke, m’so sorry,” you mewled. “I’ll be good, just let me do this.” The stretch of his cock nestled deep inside of you felt too good to be true, scratching the itch deep inside of you.

“Soooo…. g-good…” He moaned, regretting his words. This was wrong… he knew it was. Balls deep in his sexy comerade, Sakura had no idea. The worst position to be in, yet the best position to lay down and take some wet pussy after a lengthy mission.

“F-Fuck!” You cried, ripping out a few blades of grass while your assed bounced on his cock with fervor. Soon enough you were a moaning mess, cumming around his member with passion. Sasuke thrashed, feeling you tense around him again. He was so tired, he couldn’t cum again, but the scene was so erotic he felt like he would’ve right then and there if it wasn’t for your appetite.

The burning was back and you screamed, tired of the poison that was seeping through your veins, the poison that made you a cock crazed lunatic. Sasuke was tired too, more so than you. He knew whenever he fucked Sakura next that he would be thinking of this- thinking of you. In the heat of the moment, watching your fucked out face produce a gut wrenching scream he decided that if this moment would fuck up his life forever, he would make it worth it.

Sasuke quickly got up, throwing you to the ground with this powerful arm and grabbed your hip with it. Your eyes widened, watching him lower his pants further before grabbing his cock and parting you in two with his smooth tip. You yelped, scratching his back as he finally gave you the sensation you needed.

“Ngh- GOD YES!” You cried, his dick was pumping in and out of you with an almost violent vigor. He fucked you the way he wouldn’t treat his wife, grabbing your tits and slapping them while he pummeled you. It felt amazing, you propped your head up, watching how his cock disappeared inside of you, only to bulge in your stomach the moment he reached your hilt.

“Fuck- So fucking good….” It came out as a whimper, then an animalistic groan when you threw your hips into his, meeting him whenever he thrusted inside of you.

“Thank you Sasuke, your cock s’fucking good,” tears rolled down your face again and he smirked, licking them off your face before spurting another load inside of you with a throaty groan.

Finally the pain was over, you laid there a fucked out mess unable to think straight- unable to think about the mission. Sasuke buttoned his pants and sat there next to your shirtless with his head in his hand.

“Shit…” He sighed. “Let’s promise to keep this out of the mission report, okay?”

Tag list: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Day 11 - Pet Play - Kiba X Reader

I FELL BEHIND AGAIN 😀😀

#smut #naruto #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke x reader smut #sasuke smut #sasuke uchiha smut #sasuke naruto #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke uchiha x y/n #sasuke fic #naruto fic #naruto smut #kinktober 2023 #shaggys bitches kinktober #kinktober

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therainscene · 6 months

Text

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

#stranger things #will has powers #willel #byler #will byers #el hopper #max mayfield #barb holland #henry creel #mind flayer #my analysis

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clbrq · 6 months

Note

PLS DO MORE SAM AND COLBY SMUTSSS

DOUBLE TROUBLE - C. BROCK & S. GOLBACH.

warnings; HEAVY SMUT, fingering, oral (both receiving and giving), p in v sex, cursing/swearing, alcohol consumption, kinda like a tag team kinda thing but they don’t know about it LMAO just read.

minors dni.

-/-

You had always been attracted to your best friends. Not even in a strange way; you just thought they were both two good-looking men. Sam and Colby had been your friends since high school, your friendship dating back to when you were all living in Kansas. You can remember filming their vines, and helping them create ideas for their next ones. And when you all grew up, they both matured into two beautiful boys that you admired deeply.

Sam had a gorgeous smile, so contagious and relaxing. When he smiled, you felt happiness bloom inside your body. He also had amazingly, well cared for hair—his blonde locks were always clean and soft, easy for you to run your fingers through. His personality always lightened up your mood too, and the leadership side of him always brought you a lot stability.

Similarly, Colby was such handsome man, you almost buckled to your knees by just looking at him. He had incredible, ocean blue eyes that twinkled in the sunlight, bringing you ultimate joy when you caught a glimpse of them. Colby also, similar to Sam, had an unbelievably contagious laugh, that rang a cheerful feeling through you as the noise escaped his lips.

However, after the occasional one too many drinks, you often looked at your two best friends very differently. It was like the alcohol in you made you view your two friends in dangerously sexual manner. When you looked at Sam, you wanted him to carefully take care of you, make you feel good, but when you looked at Colby, you wanted him to absolutely destroy you. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself.

And that’s exactly how you felt right now.

You were stood with a group of your friends, including Sam and Colby, surrounded by dancing, drunk people, enjoying the 10 million subscribers party they were hosting. They always hosted the best parties—the one’s where you somehow got the most drunk. Stood with you was Corey, Jake, Tara, and Aryia, all chatting comfortably with each other.

But, you couldn’t help your eyes as they landed on Sam, the way he smiled at the joke Aryia made, forcing a smile to land on your face simultaneously. He stood with his arms loosely hanging by his sides, and a structured stance, watching as Corey laughed at Jake doing something stupid.

A small voice from next to you pulled you out of your trance, “Come get a drink with me?” Tara grinned up at you, her small height making you giggle.

“Yeah, sure, I’m feeling too sober anyway.” You replied, walking behind her as you both grab a black cherry White Claw—Sam’s favourite.

Before you could crack it open and take a sip, the can was taken out your hands, “Hey!”

“What?” Sam chuckled, “Shotgun it. That’s way more fun.”

“And why would I do that?” You snapped back, smirking up at him.

“Because I said so, and you love me, so you’ll do it.” Sam stated, grinning back.

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was right, “Fine.”

“That’s my girl.”

His voice rattled through your brain as he grabbed a small knife, and placed it gently in your hands. You licked your lips as you punctured the side of the can and watched as it bubbled everywhere. Bringing it quickly up to your lips, you opened the top as you chugged the smooth beverage in front of him as he cheered you on. Once you’d finished the can, you threw the can in the bin as you caught your breath.

You turned Sam, feeling accomplished, “See? I did it.”

“Well done, but wait.” Sam replied, but suddenly approaching you. His thumb swiped your lip as he wiped away the access of the drink from your mouth.

Slowly, he placed his thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean from the alcohol that once remained. You watched in awe, as you felt your stomach flip, not only from the White Claw settling in your empty stomach, but how sexy Sam looked doing that.

“Come on, bet everyone’s missing us.” He dragged you back over to the group, grabbing two more drinks as you followed him.

Handing you another can, you stood next to Colby, feeling your heart rate instantly increase as you got a whiff of his strong, expensively alluring cologne. The smell was almost blinding as you breathed deeper due to how much this was affecting you.

“You alright, doll?” Colby’s voice whispered in your ear, his hot breath hitting your bare neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hand rested gently on your back as he leant down to talk to you.

“Yeah, just maybe need to sit down.” You mumbled back to him, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Let’s go upstairs, it’ll be quieter there.” He suggested, letting you lead the way as his hand stayed on your lower back as you both walked towards the stairs.

You and Colby stayed in silence as you reached his free, quiet bedroom. Colby shut and locked the door as you collapsed on his bed, shutting your eyes as your previous drinks were hitting you suddenly.

You felt eyes on you, watching you closely. Opening your eyes, you sat up to see Colby stood by your feet, observing your every move with a smirk on his face.

“May I help you, Mr. Brock?” You chuckled, shuffling closer to him.

“I’m not sure, can you?”

“What do you need?” You asked, innocently, wondering what was wrong with him.

“Well, ever since you walked through that door, Hell, ever since I met you; I’ve wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and fuck you senseless,” He admitted, his big hand making its way up to your red hot cheek, “but, since you’re my best friend, you’re off limits.”

“W-who decided that?” You blurted out, wanting nothing more for him to do all the things he just said.

Colby laughed darkly down at you, removing his hand while staring deep into your eyes, “Why? You want it?”

“Please.” You whispered, biting harshly onto your bottom lip as his touch lingered.

Colby didn’t speak but pushed you gently back onto the bed, and climbed on top of you, connecting your lips forcefully. The kiss was hot, and steamy, teeth clashing and moans erupting from both of your throats. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his lower half closer to yours. Colby moved his hips ever so slightly, grinding his obvious hard-on onto your clothed pussy.

“Mm, I need you.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands roaming through his brown locks, “Need you now, Colbs.”

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, sitting up to throw all his clothes off to the side, bar his boxers.

Colby then turned to you, slipping off your dress to reveal your naked chest, but your lacy panties underneath.

“God, you slut.” Colby whispered, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders, “You’re practically begging me to fuck you with these on.” His fingers playing gingerly with the rim of your panties, making the arousal inside you grow.

“Please, Colby.”

“Please what?” He pushed back, wanting to hear you beg for him.

“Please, do something, touch me, please.” You whined, shimming in impatience.

Pulling your underwear off, Colby’s placed soft, teasingly slow kisses on your inner thighs, making sure you were absolutely begging for his tongue by the time he made it to your core. The way you whined and begged for him was enough as he placed his hot tongue against your aching clit. You cried out as he wrapped his pretty lips around your bud, sucking gently, taking his sweet time with you. You’d never felt pleasure like this as he reached his hand up slipped his middle finger into your clenching hole, curling them upwards, hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.

You arched your back, calling out his name as you grabbed onto his hair, pulling his locks, causing him to groan against you. Your pleasure increased as he twirled his tongue around your clit, occasionally giving it a small kiss, and then returning with his tongue. You could feel the knot in your stomach begging to tighten, the orgasm was about to hit you hard.

“Yeah, you gonna cum?” Colby asked, feeling you clench around his fingers, smirking from between your legs.

Only whining his name, begging him to continue with his mouth, he proceeded to do so. Colby flicked his tongue in a way that tipped you over the edge, the orgasm ripping through as you cried out loudly, not caring who heard. You twitched and writhed under him as ecstasy coursed throughout your body.

Standing up, Colby harshly grabbed your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue tasting sweetly of your arousal as it slid down your throat. His hand swiftly grasped your neck, kissing you roughly—he was clearly pent up.

“Bend over.” He demanded, pulling away from your swollen lips, a string of saliva and your slick connecting both of your mouths.

Doing quickly as you were told, you arched your ass into the sky for him, your pussy dripping with excitement. He knelt on the bed, teasing your spasming hole with the tip of his leaking cock.

“You ready for me, baby?” Colby purred, stroking your back, lovingly.

“Yes, Colby, please.” You winced, begging for him as you pushed your hips backwards.

Colby complied with your begging and slipped his hard cock quickly inside you, not caring for you to get used to his size. Crying out in both pain and pleasure, you gripped his bedsheets for support as he began to ram his pulsating cock inside you.

“God, you’re such a whore, aren’t you?” Colby taunted, his thrusts at a fast, yet steady, pace, “You’re so thirsty for my cock.”

“Yes, Colby, just for you.”

Colby laughed evilly from behind you, tightly grabbing onto your hips as his thrusts grew harder and deeper which each other. His rhythm so harsh, you were beginning to not see straight. He truly was fucking you senseless. You could feel another orgasm building up as he reached round to rub your clit as he pounded you from behind.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Colby announced, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as the pleasure washed over him.

Groaning out your name as he filled you up deep inside, your second orgasm ripped through you. You heard ringing in your ears and stars in your eyes as his thrusts slowed down. Soon enough, he pulled out as you collapsed onto the bed.

“You okay?” Colby queried, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Yeah, I think so.” You murmured, eyes beginning to feel heavy as he spoke.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep, still got a whole party downstairs.”

Agreeing with his statement, you sat up, sighing as you did so.

“Did so good for me, baby.” Colby whispered, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll grab you some water.”

Colby wondered off to his bathroom with an empty cup in hand, as you slowly began to dress yourself. Once he returned, you drank the whole cup he had filled up for you, erupting a small laugh from his chest.

“Now, as much as I’d love to stay here and sleep with you,” Colby started, helping you back into your dress as you begin to wake up a bit more, “People will wonder where we’ve gone.”

You nodded as you adjusted your dress, and then leaning up to peck his lips, “Thank you.”

“No problem, love,” He smiled, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, I’ll meet you down there.”

“Alright,” You answered, watching him walk towards the bathroom once more, and then exit bedroom yourself.

However, as you walked towards the stairs, a familiar face exited his room also, and caught your gaze.

“Sam?” You questioned, unsure on what he was doing upstairs and away from the party, “What are you doing up here?”

“I needed a charger,” Sam replied, furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes lingered on you for longer than you wanted, “Are you okay?”

You were taken aback by his words, “Uhm, yeah, I think.”

“Do you need some Advil or something? You look like you’ve thrown up about 10 times.” He chuckled, approaching you.

“No, no, I’m okay. Just feel a bit lightheaded.” You lied, not wanting to admit you just fucked his best friend.

“Here, come with me, we can chill in my room until you feel better.” Sam suggested, grabbing your hand gently and leading you into his bedroom.

Déjà vu.

You and Sam sat on his bed, not saying a word as you made yourself comfortable.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I will be,” You answered, turning to face him, “Just not feeling too hot right now.”

“Well you look it.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to be so forward, “Really?”

“Yeah, 100%, always thought so.” Sam smiled cheekily, looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re drunk.” You laughed, shaking your head.

Sam returned the laugh, “Maybe, but I know what I’m saying is true.”

The adrenaline from your quickie with Colby still hadn’t worn off as you leaned in to kiss Sam. Luckily, you had read the room correctly and Sam instantly took your face in his hands as he kissed back. Sam was a gentle, loving kisser—he took his time to make sure you were enjoying it as much as him. You moved over to straddle either side of his legs, and continued your kiss in the comfort of his lap.

“God, you have no idea how you make me feel,” Sam murmured against your lips, pecking you carefully.

“Let me show you how you make me feel.” You replied, boldly, slowly moving down his body towards his crotch, “Can I?” You asked, politely.

“Fuck, yeah.”

As you removed Sam’s jeans and boxers, you watched as his obviously hard member sprung up and slapped against his torso. You took it in the small of your hand, slowly jerking his dick as you kitten licked the tip that was already leaking with pre-cum. Sam got comfortable on his bed as you lowered your mouth fully onto his dick.

Sam groaned out loud a slur of curses as you flicked your tongue on his cock as you sucked him. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue helping you amplify his pleasure. You sped up your movements, knowing this would be killing him, and he moaned out your name in ecstasy.

“Jesus, you’re such a good girl.” Sam mumbled, his one arm behind his head, his cheeks red and his eyes screwed shut.

You smirked on his member as you knew you were making him feel good. Strategically adding your hand to the base of his cock, you jerked the bottom off as you sucked the tip, helping him reach his finish.

Unlike Colby, Sam quickly finished as he grabbed your hair, gently, in his hands, pushing your head down as he spilled deep inside your throat, cursing and groaning as he did so. As you swallowed his seed, and pulled your mouth off his dick, you sat up and faced him.

You giggled as he let out a shaky breath, “Jesus, you’re unreal.” He sighed, smiling at you.

“You’re very welcome.”

Sam beckoned you over as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hand beginning to travel under your dress and to your still wet pussy. You moaned into his mouth as he began to rub small circles on your clit, making you buck your hips into his hand. You were on the verge of your third orgasm of the night, when the door opening followed by a voice caught your attention,

“Hey Sam, have you seen—“

Colby stood in the doorway, a shocked expression plastered on his face, “What the fuck?” He shouted, “I just fucked you and then you hop straight on his cock next?”

“What? You just fucked him?” Sam exclaimed, shocked.

Oh, fuck.

dude i’m gonna do a part 2 dw and it’ll be the best tag team of the century. hope you liked this! sorry i didn’t see it sooner!! xx

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apompkwrites · 1 year

Text

the protected draconia || malleus draconia

masterlist characters: n/a genre: angst(?)-ish (honestly sorta neutral) contains: lilia pov lilia pov lilia pov, blood/injuries, my own personal idea of how malleus' grandmother is?, ooc lilia probably I'm sorry D: summary: lilia knows more than he lets on. but what he didn't expect, in all of his time in briar valley, was to see a member of the royal family on the ground in a cave, wingless and hornless. notes: mm gotta get the story rolling somehow :D parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

lilia, for as long as he had served the draconia family, was well aware of the turmoil that befell the name after a mysterious man created a "bastard" child. the man was an enigma, an unknown parasite that came and went like the wind.

it was surreal for lilia, having been close to the general before his untimely passing that occurred after his family nearly fell apart. not only that, it was now his job to take over the position following the funeral.

and as time marched forward, so too did lilia. he found himself becoming a general and a father all in a span of a couple years. and although he loved his jobs, he couldn't help but think.

he would catch glimpses of them in the halls now and then. they often clung to miss leah as if she were their real mother. it was endearing, to say the least. and when lilia finally found the time, he had confronted the fae.

"i see you're taking care of the little dragon, now."

"ah, general lilia...!"

"no need for formalities. i was simply... here to ask for your opinion."

"opinion...? for what?"

"what is the best way to handle a cracked horn?"

it was as if the two were newly single parents that had no clue on how to raise their kids, which, in all honesty, wasn't far from the truth. with that single question, the two had forged a bond, a parental bond with the two members of the draconia family.

so when miss leah came rushing over, crying out that the little dragon had gone missing, lilia felt his heart drop to his stomach as if his own children had gone missing.

"lilia! lilia!" leah cried out as she barged into his chambers, tears falling down her face and her usually stoic and composed demeanor left behind somewhere.

"leah!" lilia gasped as she entered. "what is it?"

"it's (name)!" she panted as she struggled to catch her breath. "they... they were supposed to come back this afternoon, but when i went to retrieve them, the advisors told me they hadn't come back from their test!"

lilia grimaced at the sound of the advisors. he knew exactly which ones she was talking about and how cruel those supposed "good" fairies were.

"and what was that test the little dragon was sent on?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"they... they were sent into the forest! but they won't tell me what exactly happened!" leah panics, collapsing to the ground in front of lilia in a bow. "I beg of you, general lilia, please find them!"

lilia didn't have to think twice about the request. despite not formally meeting the younger draconia, he had a duty, an obligation, to keep them safe, both as the general of briar valley and the protector of their older brother, malleus.

the forest was dense and quiet, save for a few rustling of trees and bushes. despite the dense foliage, it didn't take him long to find a trace of the smaller draconia, or rather, whatever had taken them.

lilia had stumbled upon a trail, most likely one belonging to a beast of the briar. he had seen a fair share of them in his time out in the thorns but this one... this one was different.

from the prints alone, it seemed almost forced. it wasn't a natural trail one would see from a beast.

lilia was quick to follow the trail, finding himself weaving through thorn bushes and trees until he reached a small cave hidden amongst the flora. and what he saw there was beyond the horrors he had seen on the battlefield.

curled up on the ground, bound by thorned vines that cut and punctured their skin, was the so-called bastard draconia. and, other than the blood coming from their tied arms, was the blood dripping from their back and head.

"oh, you poor thing..." lilia could only coo, delicately cutting the thorned vines off of their arms and scooping them up. when he saw how crudely their horns and wings were ripped from the body, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what fate had fallen upon the child in his arms.

"your highness." lilia greeted as he kneeled in front of the queen. just a formality, he always reminded himself. nothing but a formality.

"lilia... what is the meaning of this...?" the queen uttered, staring down at the body presented to her with wide, fearful eyes. "this..."

"yes. the child of your daughter and that... man." lilia responded, his hands lightly pressed against the child's back to stay the bleeding. "i am... aware of your decision to keep them within the palace walls, but... my main concern now, and miss leah's main concern, is the treatment of this child."

"...tell me more." she commanded as she stood up from the throne, slowly walking down the steps until she reached lilia and (name). "...despite their diluted blood, this is still my grandchild. what has happened to them?"

"i asked miss leah here to explain to you in detail. she has more experience in this than i." lilia explained, motioning for leah to step forward. she did, albeit with a bit more nervousness than lilia.

"your... your majesty..." leah bowed to the queen. "the child you have placed in my care is a bright one. however, many of the servants who have lived with them seem to only see them as the child of an affair and blame them wrongfully for their very existence."

the queen's demeanor seemed to change at that instant. her once caring and soft eyes directed at the unconscious child turned cold, almost rivaling that of the thorn fairy herself.

"miss leah... you mean to tell me that my own servants have been mistreating my grandchild?" she hissed under her breath.

"y-yes, your highness..."

"and, if i may," lilia chimes in, slightly lifting one hand. his palm was coated in blood. "it seems that your most trusted advisors have caused these injuries on the young child."

"they... what?" the queen growled, her expression growing darker.

"not directly or of their own hand, but by order." lilia clarified. "i have reason to believe that these injuries were caused by--"

"a fae in white, yes, it is quite obvious." the queen quickly interjected.

"...and so, your advisors seem to have ordered your grandchild to hunt down a beast in the briar, leading to them getting caught and abused by a fae in white." lilia concluded.

silence filled the throne room. the queen took a deep breath, clutching her scepter tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white. she took another deep breath, her eyes shut.

"...i will deal with these unruly servants by my own hand." she decreed, slowly opening her eyes. they drifted down to (name), who was still shivering on the floor. "...have them tended to. i shall atone for my part in their suffering in the only way i can right now."

"and that would be...?"

"...lilia. leah. please raise my grandchild the way they should have. as a member of the draconia family."

it was a surprising awakening. opening your eyes, not to the cold floor of the cave, but to the pristine ceiling of... somewhere?

you weren't entirely sure where you were. and nor were you aware of who these people were standing above you.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @hu-tqao @reallytired5 @akitsuki13 @queenaveryrules @dia-disappointment @oxzamzu

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fungifanart · 6 months

Text

A scar in the mind

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier

CW: Discussion of injury/scars, spoilers for some of Book 6??? I guess???

Word Count: 1.5K

Notes: I know for a fact that I'm not the first and certainly won't be the last to write something like this, but here it is anyway.

-------------------------------------------------

Rook Hunt is known as many things: A skilled hunter? Quite. Vice housewarden of Pomefiore? A title he wears with pride. Lover and pursuer of all things beautiful? Most definitely.

And it is because Rook is all of these things that he finds himself flying at breakneck speed over the ocean towards where his housewarden is being held, albeit with two more companions than he had originally planned for.

Though, he's hardly complaining. Especially after the beautiful display of resolve the two men in question had shown after they'd run into him on his way out.

Rook is truly grateful to have been blessed with such wonderful companions.

And so, when one of said companions begins shivering due to not being dressed to withstand the cold, what else can Rook do except offer his spare Pomefiore uniform?

Upon landing and setting up camp for the night, Rook presents the Prefect with his spare uniform, "You may change behind the trees, so long as you don't stray too far from the camp, Trickster." He says while he and Epel turn towards the bonfire.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I'm used to changing in front of other people." Rook hears the Prefect say as the shuffling of fabric can be heard.

Surprised by that statement as he is, Rook still endeavors to give the other man SOME privacy. That is, until he glances over at Epel, who is looking in the Prefect’s direction with wide eyes.

Following Epel's gaze, Rook turns back around towards the Prefect only to be greeted by a horrifying visual cacophony of scars painted all along the once blank canvas of his back, shoulders and arms.

All along his right arm, Rook notes several puncture wound scars and then a full stab wound scar on his left shoulder. On his hip, Rook sees an unfortunately familiar sight in the form of a sickly green, blotchy scar created by a corrosive acid. Finally, on the center of his back, Rook sees large claw-shaped scars surrounded by dry, cracked skin.

"Trickster…" The man in question stops changing upon hearing Rook's nickname for him, "What has happened to you?" Rook says quietly and with no hint of his usual persona.

Rook hears the Prefect’s breath hitch for a moment before sighing, "Yeah…I had a feeling you guys would say something. Give me a minute." He says FAR too calmly for Rook's liking while he resumes changing into the spare uniform.

Once he's fully changed, the Prefect turns around and joins the other men around the fire.

The next few seconds of tense silence are broken by Epel, "So??? Are ya gonna explain???" He asks urgently.

"Personally, I don't think there's much TO explain. You guys aren't stupid. There's no way you haven’t heard the rumors by now." The Prefect says.

Rook has no rebuttal. He knows exactly what the other man means. No matter how hard they try, the news of an overblot will always make its way to the rest of the student body and, in the same breath, the Prefect’s name will always come up.

"So, those scars are from…?" Rook trails off, not wanting to say it.

"Yep. Each scar you saw is traceable back to one of the five overblot incidents I was involved in." The Prefect says matter-of-factly while pulling up his right sleeve, "These ones happened because one of Riddle’s rose vines got a hold of me while I was trying to protect Trey. I could barely write with this arm for a while after that."

Rook and Epel sit there in stunned silence as the Prefect continues.

"The one you saw on my back happened because I threw myself between Ruggie and Leona during his overblot. Leona was charging right for him and he was already in a bad way, so I figured I could take a hit or two. Oh, and don't bother with the dry skin. I've tried everything at this point, so I think it's just like that for good now." The man continues nonchalantly.

Rook begins to notice a pattern with these stories as the Prefect pulls down the fabric on his left shoulder.

"This one came from the trident Azul's phantom had. I was trying to push Leona out of the way of it and ended up getting skewered myself. Heh, he got SO mad at me afterwards! Still not sure why, though." He explains with a small laugh.

But neither Rook nor Epel laugh with him. Why is he making jokes about this?

"And, of course, I don't think I need to explain how I got the one on my hip, seeing as how you guys were there when it happened." He says while motioning to the two other men.

Unfortunately, the Prefect truly doesn't need to explain. Rook still remembers the sight of him shoving Epel out of the way and taking part of a blast of Vil's poison.

Silence falls over the area as the Prefect is seemingly done explaining despite not addressing the question that is no doubt on both of his companion's minds.

"Wait, isn't that only four?" Epel asks, ever the straightforward one.

"Well, it's not like I got out of Jamil’s overblot unscathed, but I wouldn't really call it a 'scar.'" The Prefect responds while taking off one of his gloves, "During the fight, I took a magic blast for Kalim, got flung back hard against a pillar and hit my spine in a way that messed up the nerves in my hands, so now I've lost some feeling in them." He says while looking at his hand melancholically, "Oh, don't tell either of them I said that, by the way. I wouldn't want them to feel guilty."

Rook's mouth is agape as his mind tries and fails to rationalize the sheer disregard for oneself the Prefect is displaying.

"Trickster, why would you do all of this?" Rook finally says in genuine concern, earning a confused look from the other man.

"What do you mean? Everyone's always saying how I'm useless and a liability because I can't use magic, so I thought this was the only way I could make myself useful." He says while pulling his knees towards his chest, "Though, sometimes I can still feel the pain, when I think about what happened."

Then it clicks in Rook's mind. This is his fault. And not just his, it's Epel's as well. No, not even just those present. Everyone at NRC did this to him. All of them.

While he may not have been personally acquainted with the Prefect until recently, Rook had heard the whispers about him that echoed through the halls since the day he was brought to this world and did nothing to stop them.

Whispers that tell of a "fittingly useless prefect for that rundown dump."

Whispers that reduce him down to his lack of magic and ignore his qualities as a person.

Whispers that would sometimes even come from the mouths of people whom he would consider friends.

Whispers that the Prefect has no doubt heard constantly, warping his perception of himself into someone expendable. Someone whose problems must always be put on the back burner in the face of someone else's.

Looking at Epel, Rook knows he's had the same realization by his shell-shocked expression and before the two men know it, they've moved to sit on both sides of the Prefect, who doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, fer what it's worth, ya should know that yer always welcome in Harveston." Epel says in an attempt at comfort, "Meemaw always mentions ya at least once in her letters to me, askin' if you've been eatin' well, amongst other things, so I think comin' with me to go see her would make her happy!"

"Really…?" The Prefect asks, slightly surprised.

"But of course!" Rook jumps in, "You should also know that my siblings have been asking about you as well!"

"H-huh? Why??" The man asks, thoroughly confused as Rook takes his hand.

"Because, whenever we talk, I always tell them how truly magnifique you are, Trickster." Rook says softly, "How caring and truly irreplaceable you are."

The Prefect blinks for a few seconds, caught off-guard by Rook's sincerity.

“And someone as irreplaceable as you shouldn't be putting himself in harm's way so often.” Rook continues, “After all, I'm sure your family couldn't bear to see you return to them in a coffin.”

The Prefect’s eyes go wide in realization and then begin to glisten with tears as he looks at his free hand which begins to tremble before fully burying his face in his knees and crying.

“mommy…daddy…” He whispers between sobs.

Rook releases the other man's hand and instead wraps his arm around him in comfort as Epel leans against his other side, letting him safely release his pent up emotions.

Rook may not be able to change the past or silence the hateful whispers in the halls, but, starting with this moment right here, he might just be able to ease the pain of the Prefect’s scars, both mental and physical, until one day, they disappear altogether.

#why is this mushroom writing fanfics?#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x male reader #twst mc #twst yuu #rook hunt #epel felmier #twst rook #twst epel #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader

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miss-celestia13 · 2 months

Text

The Ending You Deserve

Jake x MC - Duskwood One Shot

I wanted to practice angst and creating suspense. This happened. It has a touch of humor, a hint of fluff, and other things! Sassy MC. No smut for a change. It feels weird 🤭

Can Jake run from death and make it to MC?

Or will his demons win the race?

MC isn't named or described as it was more for the emotions. It's all from Jake’s POV.

Pain.

Aching. Cold. Hot. Burning, burning, burning. It rolled through him in waves.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see.

Dread wove through his internal organs and strangled him from the inside like an invasive vine had taken root in the core of himself.

Smoke and ash choked his airways as he stumbled and tripped through the mine.

His heart rattled savagely against his ribs.

It felt like a creature in its death throes, trying to break out of his chest.

His foot collided with a jagged, jutting rock and he went down like a house of cards. Crumpled and folded as he rolled and rolled.

Hissing as tiny sharp stones cut into his face and hands.

Ash ridden sweat trickled down his face and stung the many small slices leaking blood as he lay on his back panting and cursing himself as the ominous orange glow of raging flame inched along the underground tunnel.

The air grew thinner and thinner.

The smoke grew thicker and thicker.

The gasoline fueled fire was a monster bearing down on him and he scrambled to his trembling feet. Taking off at a staggering jog, one hand braced on the rough, dirty wall.

A pinprick of light opened up far ahead and a jolt of adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. He hurried, panting and terrified, breathing too shallowly as the rising heat nipped at his neck.

He knew he had a choice to make.

It was death by fire or FBI.

Neither option appealed to him, but as he looked back and saw the swirling, furious flames licking nearer and nearer. He knew he had to decide.

It wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t innocent or free from any wrongdoing. But he didn’t deserve to die like an animal, run over and left bleeding out and twitching on the side of the road until he grew cold and stiff.

No one would miss him.

No one would look for him.

He was all alone. It was a surety. He was always, always alone.

That’s not true though, is it, Jake?

It hasn’t been for a while now.

The voice in his head made his breath catch, and his heart pounded painfully in his throat.

It felt as though someone had reached inside his chest, broken through his flesh, muscle and grasped his bones to pry them apart, an invisible fist that gripped his pulsing heart and shoved it in his mouth. Forcing him to swallow it.

It beat there like a Wardrum. Marching him to his death.

It throbbed and choked and filled his mouth with copper. He couldn’t stand it. The pain was corrosive as it ate through his nerves and left them exposed to the heat and acrid taint of smoke.

She is waiting for you. Don’t let her down.

You PROMISED.

A soul deep sigh huffed through his nose as his feet sped up, pebbles and broken glass crunched under his boots as he raced toward the gradually growing dot of light.

The roaring fire and echo of his escape bounced off the stone and haunted him as he ran for his life.

Four years of running.

Four years of searching and shame and seclusion. Running had been his gift. His lifeline.

Yet he felt wholly unprepared for this last sprint.

He was tiring.

Steps shortening faster than his scalding breath as black smoke slithered overhead and wrapped its insidious tentacles around his body.

He would not make it.

He would not see her after all.

The thought felt like a poisoned blade sinking into his chest. He could feel the barbs of it twisting and cutting through sinew.

He would soon bleed out without a sound.

The fight left him as the intangible knife punctured his hope and foolish dream of having a love he didn’t deserve.

They’d been writing their own story, filling the pages with dreams and fragile, flourishing love.

He felt like coming here was akin to him tearing out those pages and ripping them up.

It broke him so completely he almost stopped and let the flames embrace him.

He could already smell the sickly sweet and pungent scent of his blistering flesh. Like tanning leather over a flame.

He was going to burn.

It would hurt more than he already did.

It would roast through his flesh, flay it from his bones and incinerate muscle and blood to dust.

He could already feel it.

Creeping closer, singing the hair on his nape, and filling his nose with the cloying scent of dangerous smoke.

No one would know it was him.

Nothing would remain for her except blackened bones and the memory that he had gone to the mine instead of her.

She would blame herself for this.

It would destroy her.

And it was all his doing.

No.

Never.

He wouldn’t be a cause of her pain anymore than he already had.

A burst of fresh speed and determination glittered through him as the fire drew so near he could feel the flames whispering in his ear.

Too slow, Jake. It’s too late.

You can’t run away from this.

Your luck has faded.

He forced it aside and sobbed through his clenched teeth as the dot of light swelled and came toward him.

His legs were heavy. Growing weightier with every leap over fallen support beams and shattered rock.

His rabbit heart raced faster and faster. It deafened him to the groaning, popping wood as the fire devoured it.

Tears streaked through the soot and blood on his face. Leaving pale tracks through the grime and coating his chapped lips with brine.

His vision blurred as his emotions broke free of the locked and coded vault he’d stuffed in the back of his hive mind to come here.

He attempted to shove them back in.

It didn’t work.

They spilled out and utterly overwhelmed him.

He’d spent years locking them down. Beating them into submission, so they listened to him and not him to them. The steel and stone fortress he erected around himself had already crumbled for her and there was nowhere left to hide.

He’d given her everything he had, and it wouldn’t be enough.

You always knew you weren’t enough. Let’s not think too highly of ourselves.

She deserves better than this.

Better than you.

That is a truth you will never escape.

His heart fractured as his mind fought against him and his flagging spirit frayed further.

She deserved better than this.

He was failing her. Had failed her since he let her in.

He’d always known he’d cause her future hurt.

He just hadn’t expected it would come so soon. That he wouldn’t get to watch from afar as she healed from his vanishing.

They had always lived on borrowed time.

And now, the fire was so close sweat slid like rivers down his back and legs, eating away at his nerves as they flared wildly under his soaking skin.

Jake knew it was futile. The ball of light in his vision seemed to run away from him as his eyes blurred and cleared repeatedly. His hands curled into two tight fists and he fought the urge to punch the wall in fury.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek instead. Biting down hard until the skin gave and blood welled over the tattered edge, glazing his tongue with the buttery, metallic taste of it.

It acted like a stimulant.

His eyes focused and his heart pounded fiercely as he ran and ran and ran.

Feet pounded stone as fire blazed through the mine. He had to outrun it.

He would outrun in it.

There was no other option as his blood pressure skyrocketed and his breath became harsh, shallow.

The fire sucked away the air before it could go in as he tried to gulp it down.

There was no oxygen.

His insides kept writhing and twisting.

They knotted up and up so tightly he swore felt something tear. Something that made him cry out as the air was crushed from him.

He could see shadows in his periphery. Specks of darkness and sparks of light as his lungs ached and screamed for oxygen. For rest.

Resting meant dying.

Dying meant failing her.

Failing her was never an option before.

It couldn’t be one now.

He put his head down and ran.

He jumped over another wooden beam as the light ahead broadened and he landed atop aged wooden boards.

He only had time to scream as they broke under his weight and their age.

Jake fell. And fell and fell.

He screwed his eyes shut before he hit the ground.

The impact was so brutal, he almost wished it had killed him.

He hit the ground with a resounding whack.

His head cracked off the stone. Pain, blinding and bleeding, radiated through his skull and brain, frying his rationality completely and leaving room for fear to consume him wholly.

Warmth seeped across his scalp and his hand came away, stained in crimson when he reached to feel the damage.

Head wounds bled worse than they were and the gash didn’t feel too bad once the stinging pain subsided a little. He internally surveyed the rest of himself. Finding nothing broken despite his ribs feeling as though a giant had stomped him flat.

Dirt and blood coated his teeth as he wheezed and coughed. Choking and spluttering as he tried to get a handle on himself.

He’d bitten through his lip, and it bled like a bitch.

Something was stabbing into his shoulder.

As he stared up at the hole he fell through, a sensation like a thousand razor blades slicing down his skin moved down his spine, coiling in his lower back. It swirled there, a ball of cutting, primal fright that soon bled through the rest of him.

A rickety ladder leading up and out offered a small ray of hope.

He clung to it and calculated how long it would take to climb in his current condition.

Fire scoured over the opening and left no place for him to escape.

His hope died with a breathless whimper.

He barely even heard it as agony rippled through his bones and he rolled onto his knees, panting.

“Fuck!” He spat. The word was more like a vicious curse as it rebounded off the mine walls and into his ears.

Mocking him as he squinted into the darkness and tried to figure out what to do next.

The fire would keep the police and FBI away from the mine until it burnt out. They wouldn’t rush in until it was safe enough. He knew that.

He could use that.

Jake kneeled on the filthy ground and schemed.

The temperature rose and rose as he shuffled through his thoughts.

He neatly ordered and arranged everything, thinking of his brain like a filing cabinet.

He could slide one drawer open and find a treasure trove of data and memories.

Some would get stuck as he tugged at them. Rusty and dusty, hardly ever opened for fear it would cut off his ability to feel nothing.

He pulled at one that had eroded so much he had to kick it and smash it to smithereens to pull the files out.

It was like opening Pandora’s box and expecting sunshine to pour forth.

A veritable flood of emotion, memory, and agony spilled free of the mental drawer and absolutely annihilated his hold on himself.

He’d forgotten what it was like to feel everything so fully.

Everything of the last few years had felt like he was competing against time itself. And time was humanity’s greatest enemy. There was never enough of it and it actively fought back when you tried to beat it.

It was a losing game and in order to keep playing, he’d become a ghost.

He muted everything that made him human in order to survive.

Calculated.

Clinical.

Cold.

Jake was all of that.

Now, he felt everything.

He wanted to survive. He wanted to live.

Lingering as a phantom on the periphery of reality no longer appealed to him. He wanted to feel and touch and be. He wanted everything life had to give.

The bitter and the sweet. The hurt and the relief. All of it.

Jake just wanted.

And when Jake wanted something, he got it.

He pushed up on his hands. Curling his fingers into the gravelly dirt and ignoring the bark of pain as his nails cracked and split.

His blood mingled with the muck, and he clambered to his feet.

Everything ached and bled and felt so heavy he could barely put one foot in front of the other as he carefully headed down the tunnel he’d dropped into.

His throat was raw. Torn to shreds from smoke and screaming. His hands quaked and his mouth was so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth as he smacked his lips together and tried to create some lubrication.

It was useless. He needed water.

He needed to rest soon, or he would pass out in sheer fright and exhaustion.

It’s too late, Jake.

Give up.

Only fools persist in fighting when the odds are stacked.

Jake’s head throbbed as he thrashed it, as if to dispel the sinister crooning, and muttered, “The odds are always stacked. It’s how you play the system.”

The voice went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tripped over rock and wood, hands scrabbling at the walls to ensure he wouldn’t get himself lost.

He risked taking his phone out of his pocket, scowling at the shattered screen as message after message came through.

MC: Jake. You can’t just tell a woman you love her and then ignore her!

Answer me.

Please.

Just give me a sign. A smoke signal. Send a damn carrier pigeon if you have to! They’re saying there’s no way in or out. But I know better. You’ll find a way.

Keep going. Please don’t give up. You’re not alone in this. I won’t allow it.

If you die, I will hunt you down, drag you back and kill you again. You must live, Jake. Not for me, not for Hannah or Lilly, but for you. You will make it back to me.

He swiped them away. Deleting them. They made his heart shiver and fracture more. The rubious fissures would leave silver scars behind. He groaned as another came through and he immediately memorized the coordinates she gave him. Deleting the message once he had. He put all his remaining energy and will into planning his escape.

His mind wheeled with memories from before. Prior to being forced into hiding, he had experienced a life of color and fluctuating joy. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his. The day he had to leave it all behind, he’d severed all strands of his old life and assumed the identity of many and none.

He’d learned a lot about humanity and its cruelty in that time. He knew how it worked.

Life was a battle against human cruelty. It always was and always would be. Wisdom, strategy, and hope were the only factors that could hope to gain over cruelty.

And his hope lived on.

Hope, he understood it lived with her now. He’d given her it and she had offered him her own. He would not waste it.

He flicked through his brain and memories, shelving what didn’t matter and keeping what did. Everything that made him ache, he kept. Everything that made him feel safe, he lost.

If safety meant being alone, lost in a mine until he either burned or starved to death, he didn’t want it.

He reached into the mental vault containing their chats.

Their conversation about her coming here was the most potent file he had, and it would fuel him to make it out.

She had complimented his research on the mine and he’d told her about some entrances/exits.

He informed her of the ones he thought were most likely to get him caught. It was a manipulative decision, so she wouldn’t get the stupid idea of following him.

He kept one exit loaded like a bullet in the back of his mind.

It was risky.

It was idiotic.

Still, Jake took off running for it.

The tunnel was narrowing as he traveled along it. He had to duck before long.

His heart still frothed behind his sternum. Relentless and out of time, with his sawing breath as the walls closed in on him.

He had to crouch now. His head scuffed off the rugged ceiling and he bit back a shout as the pain merged with that of the wound still leaking blood on the back of his skull.

He felt drained. His body became so weighty, he was grateful when the tightening passage forced him to his hands and knees.

Jake crawled and crawled. Palms scraped and searing as sweat irritated all his grazes. His eyes prickled with fresh tears as a draught of fresh air snaked into his nose.

Dread rose to swallow him, but he kept going. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side, but it was better than dying alone, never to be mourned or found.

The fear of being arrested was so strong it almost halted him as he squeezed through the ever shrinking tunnel and felt like he was caught in a vice.

If he got stuck—No, he couldn’t think it.

He had to turn his fear into a weapon. Run from this place and reclaim his name. The sweat on his brow, the blood running through his veins; it was that of a survivor.

This was just another glitch.

He told himself that over and over as he army crawled through the crushing mine.

He was blind.

The darkness entrenched him.

It would entomb him if he allowed it.

His coat snagged on the rough wall and dragged him back. He shook his sore body as much as the tight space would allow and panted through his clenched teeth.

It kept sticking. He had stretched his hands ahead of him.

There was no room or way for him to tug the fabric free.

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

Helplessness stole his flagging fight, and he slumped into the dirt, hiding his filthy face in it.

Abruptly, Jake started sobbing like a child. Great, gasping cries tore from him and his entire body shuddered with it. So violent and soul destroying he couldn’t temper it.

No matter what he did, it went against him. He’d never worked with such horrendous odds. His brain was a mess of emotion and regret.

He wished he’d written everything he felt and hoped for them down and mailed the letter to her before he entered the mine, but he’d been cocky then. Too confident in his ability to escape any trap or cage.

Jake gave up and accepted his fate.

If he died, if that was his due, there was no stopping it. He’d been living off begged and borrowed and stolen time for years.

It had finally caught up to him.

He was so lost in defeat. Consumed by it. His throat contracted, and he felt like he might be sick.

He hoped he choked on it.

Make it quick.

“I don’t want to die,” He whispered without meaning to and his mouth kept moving, the words kept falling from his bloodstained lips, “Not like this, anything but this.”

His heart shriveled and went cold as he struggled and tried to shuffle forward. He couldn’t breathe properly. All his weight was on his front. His ribs felt bruised and cracked, every tiny inhale felt like a sledgehammer blow.

It is over, Jake. Feel that? The cold creeping in? Soon, it’s all you’ll know. This darkness? It’s all there is. All there ever will be. It’s what you –

“-- I don’t deserve this.” Jake growled with a certainty he’d never known.

Adrenaline coursed through him, lighting up his veins and filling him with new trembling energy as if someone had injected him with a drug.

He rocked and shook his body until his bones jolted and his skin felt too tight. He forced what little breath he had out through gritted teeth and felt the tendons in his neck straining as he dug his fingers into the dirt and put all his strength into pulling himself free.

The sound of fabric ripping caused his heart to start beating again.

He gave a laugh like shattering glass.

Unhinged and desperate as the momentum of his coat coming free shoved him forward a few feet.

From there, it wasn’t easy. He felt like a clumsy serpent as he slithered through the mine.

He kept laughing. His heart kept pounding.

The voice in his head was silent as his hands connected with something that fell away as he shoved at it.

Glorious, clean night air hit his sweaty face, and he gulped it down as he pulled himself out of the horrible tunnel.

It seemed to cling to him. Like invisible hands tugged on his ankles to keep him trapped. He refused to allow it.

Damp earth, long green grass, and dried leaves crunched under his hands as he lay on his back on the forest floor and stared at the starry sky.

He considered the spectacle of stars as the greatest gift he could have received. He analyzed it, finding the North star and thinking of the co-ordinates MC had given him. He quickly checked them on his phone before he threw it away, and was relieved when he discovered it wasn’t too far to make it there on foot.

If he headed in a North- Easterly direction, he could make it there at sunrise.

He didn’t bother looking toward Duskwood, didn’t need to know how close his pursuers might be or he’d lose his nerve.

He shakily got to his feet and started walking.

Time meant nothing to him as he traipsed through forest and open fields. He stayed away from the roads he knew were always busy.

In his current condition, some good samaritan would call for help thinking they were aiding him when in fact they’d be signing his death.

He was so tired. It clung to him like a shroud of smothering fog he would never break out of.

He kept moving.

Through shadow and moonlight, he kept walking and ignored the pain in his body as best he could.

There was no end to his exhaustion as pink tinged sunlight shimmered through the pines.

The sun was rising.

How strange, he thought, that his world could burn down around him and yet the sun still rose.

He eyed it and felt strange, like it was an abstract painting absolutely out of place in this world of cruelty, death, and flame.

No matter how deeply or irrevocably the world burned. No matter how thick the shadows grew and the amount the freezing darkness consumed, the sun would always rise.

It filled the world with light, warmth, and color and precious hope.

He felt the soft warmth kiss his hurting face, and it energized him as he broke out of the cover of trees and came to a halt in a motel parking lot.

Jake frowned, glancing around in suspicion and doubt as he failed to understand. Why would she send him here? He hadn’t stayed here. It was too out of the way.

And just how did she know of it?

He stood straight and fear thickened in his throat as his attention snagged on a window. The curtains had moved. He was sure of it.

He moved as though to sink back amongst the trees, but the creak of a door opening made his head snap toward it.

A small, slender hand poked through the gap in the door, beckoning him. He was moving toward it before he could give his feet the command.

His heart picked up speed again. His pulse and distress ratcheting up and infusing him with tension like someone was turning a screw too tightly.

He was only a few steps away from the door now. His skin felt too sensitive and everything hurt in some way. His throat felt like he’d been eating sandpaper and gravel.

The shake in his hands intensified, flight or fight. His nervous system couldn’t decide.

As he hesitated, a female voice trailed through the open door and it was like a salve on his exposed nerves. He had heard that voice, he could recognize it anywhere.

His heart raced for an entirely different reason as he listened to it.

“It’s safe. Come in and I’ll explain.”

Jake didn’t care about her explanation as the adrenaline left him so suddenly he drooped and nearly dropped to his knees.

He tripped through the door instead.

She didn’t give him time to rake his gaze over her the way he wanted to. She gripped him and forcefully dragged him into an embrace, causing him to groan in pain as it aggravated his many minor injuries.

She instantly pulled back, grimacing and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Here, I have supplies. I figured one of us would get shot or stabbed or maimed. It felt important to be prepared. Thankfully, the worst injury I’ve had is paper cuts. You don’t look like you’ve been so lucky. Are you bleeding anywhere? What do I do first? Are you burnt? You smell like someone roasted you over a spit! Are yo-”

Jake chuckled roughly at her babbling. Touched and amused by her care and thoughtfulness.

It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in years, and it turned into a cackle before long. It just slipped out of him and sounded more like crying by the end.

His gritty eyes closed as emotion swallowed him and he welcomed the darkness they offered.

It was familiar.

It was safe.

He woke hours later very confused and so stiff it felt like he was breaking his bones to sit up. His grunt of pain escaped his teeth as a lilting voice cut through the static in his mind.

“Oh, good. I was worrying. That’s nothing new, but you look like someone just dug you out of your grave. I cleaned and patched you up as best I could without stripping you. I thought I’d let you buy me dinner before we got to that stage!”

Her tone was light and filled with humor, but there was an edge of despair and anxiety in it that told him she’d fussed over him the entire time he slept.

His sluggish heart resided in his empty stomach as she approached him slowly like she thought he was an injured animal and she was afraid to spook him.

“Where are we? Why are you here? You promised to stay away.” He managed as he accepted the glass of water she offered him.

His fingers left dirty streaks on the glass as the dirt mingled with the condensation. The water was cold and crystal clear and he gulped it down to clear the sour taste out of his mouth.

She huffed at his words and waited for him to sink the water before she responded, “Typical. I come and help you and you scold me. Well, shove it. If it weren’t for me and Alan, you would be dead or rotting in a cell. And I did stay away! I didn't go to the mine, did I?”

His gaze flew to her indignant face, lovely and open despite the fury razing hell in her narrowed eyes.

He felt shocked that he could speak because his tongue felt so thick in his mouth. “My apologies. I’m still—I’m sorry... Alan? I thought he would be more interested in helping them catch me?”

She smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sat down beside him.

“That was until I ripped him a new one. The fire helped most, but Alan is currently playing down your involvement to give us time. He’ll make contact with us once we find a safe place to stay.”

He opened his mouth to demand she go back home, and he’d message once he was safe, but she flung up a hand to silence him.

“None of that. I’ll explain better once we know the scope of the fallout in Duskwood. But I am coming with you. No, if ands or buts about it, Jake. I make my decisions, not you. The last time someone tried to decide for me, I bit them. Don’t make me bite you too. Are you in?”

Her eyes were hard and unwavering, not a sliver of doubt to be found.

Everything inside him protested against dragging her into his mess, but he was tired.

He was tired of being alone.

He was so tired of losing everything.

Four years of fatigue and depression sank through him like a millstone and he hung his head in defeat. He was in no condition to run alone, anyway.

And he didn't want to. It was selfish. It was daft. But he didn't care.

He hadn't expected to survive this long. Plus, she had been his reason to make it out. He sighed and let his shoulders curl inward. Having someone else to protect would keep him sharp and ready for anything. She must've sensed his resolve weakening.

She reached out and threaded her clean fingers through his muddy ones, dark and light; he thought stupidly as his skin tingled at the contact.

It had been so long since he’d been touched gently. With obvious affection and because someone wanted to, not because they had to.

He was used to bruises and hurt. This was — this was what he'd survived for.

He’d forgotten what it felt like as he met her gaze and felt his stomach fluttering with something that felt like excitement.

It felt like hundreds of tiny birds had taken flight in his abdomen and a frisson of tentative anticipation filtered through him.

Her eyes glittered and his mouth twitched with the want to smile as he gave his response.

“I’m in.”

—————————

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time despite this being done so many times before me. Oh, and if you leave a comment or reblog, thank you. It is appreciated ❤️

103 notes · View notes

intern-seraph · 9 months

Text

as he falls from the sky

You manage to hold on to consciousness despite the powerful magic coaxing you into sleep. Malleus resolves to tire you out, himself.

(originally posted on ao3)

this one was written after malleus' actual ob happened in book 7 lol; title from That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil

ik that u should be asleep in this scenario but just like. assume porn logic or whatever ok??? mayb being completely non-magical makes u resistant to mal's sleep spell or sth idk!!!

PLEASE heed the warnings!

CWs: mutually dubious consent, overblot smut, angst+smut, bondage, inappropriate use of vines, fem!reader, mild blood, non-human genitalia, malleus draconia has 2 penises, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, possessive behavior, crying, biting

“Malleus…” You struggle to speak, eyelids drifting open and closed. “You’re…” Your mouth tastes bitter and metallic. It’s taking everything in you to fight against the magical sleep, and your digits are starting to feel tingly and numb. The effort makes your head pound. A tiny cry of pain escapes you. In a heartbeat, Malleus scoops you up into his arms.

“Oh, my darling, don’t fight it. You’ll only hurt yourself.” He hushes you, his voice soft and tender despite the ink oozing from his eyes and mouth. One hand rises to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears. He leaves behind a chilly smear of ink. “Your resilience is admirable… but it is time to accept my gift.”

You sob, your fingers curling weakly into his cape. “N-no. You’ll… you’ll get hurt…”

He sighs and shakes his head as if chastising an obstinate child. With long, graceful strides, he moves through the thorny vines and sleeping bodies littering the path to the throne. Malleus cradles you in his lap, humming to himself as he settles in. The tune is uncanny — some part of you recognizes it, but it’s far enough removed from that familiarity to make your stomach turn. “Nothing here can hurt me,” he says abruptly. “You have nothing to fear.”

“You,” is all you manage to say. His electric green eyes widen before lidding heavily as he laughs.

“No, not even myself. I am entirely in control.”

You squirm in his arms. “No!” Another sob. "Listen to me!"

"Shh… it's alright, it's alright. Just close your eyes for me."

"Malleus!"

He seems genuinely harrowed by your scream. You see his jaw tense. "So you refuse to sleep. Then I will tire you out, myself." The oppressive aura surrounding him grows heavier. Around you, more thorny vines slither up the sides of the throne. They begin to curl around your body, gently tugging your arms behind your back and winding around your thighs. The thorns don’t pierce your skin, only plucking tauntingly as you keep squirming. “Be still.”

A gentle hand comes up to cup your cheek. Despite yourself, you lean your head into his palm. The warped affection in his eyes makes your chest hurt, and you sniffle weakly. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel the imprint of his scales, cool and smooth against your clammy skin. With a dreamy sigh, he leans in and kisses you. His pace is slow, languid, sensual. Deep in your chest, you moan. Soon, you’re returning the kiss. Your arms strain against the vines, aching to touch him.

“There we go, that’s my good girl,” Malleus coos. A shudder rolls down your spine, and you throw your head back as he kisses along your jaw all the way down your neck. His lashes flutter against your skin. Then, hand steadying himself on your thigh, his mouth drags open so he may take your throat in his fangs. Your breath stills. When he bites down, it’s with that same agonizing slowness. Pain takes you. You spasm, screaming, but the vines hold you fast and his teeth only immobilize you further.

After a long few minutes, he releases your throat to lick plaintively at the bleeding puncture wounds left behind. You can’t stop shivering. You make a tiny, broken noise.

“I must apologize, my love. I didn’t want to hurt you, but…” His voice deepens to a growl, and the madness in his glowing eyes sparks to life. “Understand that I am only doing what’s best. My mark will protect you. My gift will preserve you. Accept it. Accept me.” One hand slides down to your waistband. He shoves his fingers under your underwear and runs them through your lower lips. Your hips buck against the vines binding them as you yelp. “Oh, my darling, if you want me this badly, you may have me. And then… then, you will sleep. I’ll be sure to satisfy you completely. You will only have the loveliest dreams. Sssso wet for me… you undersssstand, don't you? Why I musssst keep you? Why you cannot leave me? Precioussss, ssssweet human." His tongue flicks out between his lips, long and serpentine. His hisses fan out over your stinging wounds and the cool air makes you shudder. Beneath your trousers, his fingers prod at your hole and tease you open. He's right: you're dripping wet, shame trickling down your body in little beads of sweat just the same as the pre making your underwear damp and uncomfortable. You grind your teeth against your moans as he begins to fuck you on his fingers. You should be focused on saving him, not —

“Ma… ahn… Malleus!” You throw your head back as you come. You can’t shy away from his persistent thrusts, nor can you roll your hips into his overstimulating touch. It’s painful in a way you can’t help but want more of. You whimper, thrashing in your binds.

“Still not tired out… I see.” His fingers leave you, and you go limp as you catch your breath. Malleus hums in contemplation before he brushes his fingers against your hips. Suddenly, you’re naked. The thorns prick at your newly-bare skin. Groaning, the vines begin to shift you around until you straddle his lap. Beneath you, his cocks brush against your naked thighs — when did he take them out?

“We can’t,” you rasp out. You don’t sound convincing even to yourself. “Y-you’re not all here, and… oh…”

The head of one cock butts up against your hole. He coos at you, the noise soft and birdlike. His knuckles brush the curve of your jaw. “Shhh… let me take care of you, my love.”

You whine. Tears bead along your lashes and drip down your face, smearing through the ink he’d left behind earlier. Gently, he eases you down, continuing to coo and stroke along your jawline. For a moment, as you approach the thickest part of his cock, your breath hitches in your throat. His hips surge up to sheathe himself fully, and you release that breath in a moan. Malleus snarls, smothering the sound as he mashes his lips against yours. One hand seizes your hip while the other settles between your thighs; his long fingers stroke your clit with a jarring gentleness in comparison to the rapid, rhythmless pace he immediately sets. You’re helpless in his grasp. All you can do is squirm and moan and kiss him back as he fucks your hole.

“I love you,” he pants. His claws dig into the meat of your hips as his thrusts become more frantic. “I love you sssso much, don’t you… hah… don’t you undersssstand? I jusssst want to… keep you…” One more thrust; his hips surge up to be flush with yours. You can feel his cocks pulsing as he comes, filling your cunt and splattering on your stomach. His fingers dart down to your clit, and you’re quick to follow him with a whimper. Panting, Malleus looks up at you with glazed eyes. “Forever. You are mine forever.”

The vines surrounding you retreat. You collapse onto Malleus’ lap, thoroughly exhausted. He cradles you in his arms and strokes your sweaty skin. With a snap of his fingers, the filth covering both of you vanishes — you don’t miss how more ink flows from his tear ducts. You reach up with a tremulous hand to wipe at the ink with your thumb but only succeed at smearing it further. “Please,” you whisper. “You need to wake up.”

His smile saddens. He presses his face into the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. In the wake of his fingers’ exploration of your body, a black silk nightgown drapes over you. It’s cool and sleek against your skin, and you shiver and sigh. You feel his lips curve into a gentle smile. “No, my dear. I don’t need to wake up. You need to rest. Aren’t you tired?”

You are.

“Will you accept my gift now, my dear?”

What other choice do you have?

The thorns creep up around the throne. Roses blossom along the curling vines. Malleus reaches out and plucks a blood-red rose, then tucks it behind your ear. It hurts to resist the cloying pull of his magic. The scent of roses grows overwhelming. You let your eyelids droop shut. “Sleep. I will grant you the most wonderful dream.”

#malleus x reader #malleus x yuu #twst malleus #malleus smut #malleyuu #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #seraph speaks #my writing #nsft

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biorust-art · 11 months

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... And miles to go before I sleep.

Orym’s really going through it huh. Thanks to @czpeterp for aiding with the background! life saver for real. The first line is from Robert Frost’s poem: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. I just think the last stanza fits Orym very well.

[Image Description. Digital painting of Orym of the Air Ashari from Critical Role. Orym sits in a tree, arm leaning on one leg while holding his sword. He looks up to the sky, hair longer, face scarred, and eyes filled with ears while looking up to the moon. His chest plate as a puncture in the middle where his heart would be and seedling has vines wrapped around his arm and the blade. Beyond Orym is the Elder Abaddina’s House, the village of Hearthdale, the glowing mountains and the sparkling laylines. End ID]

#orym #orym of the air ashari #critical role #bells hells #critical role spoilers

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secret-smut-sideblog · 2 months

Text

Chokehold

Ascended Astarion x F! Tav

18+ angst, regret, longing, tenderness, comfort, complicated feelings, self doubt/hatred, dubcon, rawness, needy astarion, fingering (f!), dry humping, pants cumming (m!)

Escaping him again, Tav finds solace and safety in an old friend in Lower City. If only it was that easy to escape the Ascendant's desire...

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

"Oh Gods," She moaned.

Eyes opening, aching from the previous night.

She winced, the tight puncture marks on her neck pulling.

"Oh Gods..." She buried her face into the pillow and let out a frustrated scream.

It hadn't been a dream. She was back in it. The walls of the Elfsong a cruel reminder.

She gave herself a moment to indulge the tempest, beating her fist into the mattress.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Took a few shaky breaths.

But now she must think.

Too many lines of thought assaulted her.

Why did he drink from her with such need? He was free of the hunger. Why did it seem like he was starving?

Why did he leave her to stay here? He could have taken her away. Compelled her, even. Why had he agreed to go?

Why did he... transform like that? They had shared a bed many times since his Ascension and he had always remained the same. In control. What was that?

She shook her pounding head as the one question, the real question, rose to the top.

Why didn't he kill her?

She had betrayed him to the utmost degree. Depriving him of his consort. Of her.

Wondered if she had gone through with the change, would he have more control over her?

Surely.

Would he be less obsessive if she was his spawn? His vampiric bride?

Possibly.

Would he scoff at her escape and pull her back to him with ease?

Most definitely.

He always needed control now, and she had given him as little as she could get away with. She could see it gnaw away at him over time. At his cruelest, he would punish her for weeks on end, trying to break her. Submit. But she would never fold.

Her upbringing had warded her spirit to a great deal of pain. She could endure indefinitely, if needed.

She unconsciously traced the thin scars circling her wrist. On rainy days, she could still feel the bite of wire.

Pulling her lower lip in thought.

She could circle the drain of her endless dilemma later. She needed a plan.

Closing her eyes.

Okay.

She needed to get out of the Elfsong, preferably unseen. And she needed help.

Though she was loathe to pull another of her companions into this, her greatest strength would always be those bonds. His endless pursuit to isolate her had proven that tenfold.

Gods below, if everyone wasn't strewn across Faerun. She needed someone in Baldurs Gate.

If Wyll wasn't with Karlach in Avernus he would be the perfect option. The son of the Duke, in his own castle. His protection would be invaluable.

Think, Tav.

Her eyes opened.

Wait.

Rushing to the window. Yes, she could just make out the head of the statue.

Suddenly buzzing with adrenaline, she rang for the dumb waiter.

"Ugh, what?"

"It's Tav, tell Alan I'm calling in that favor he offered."

Gripping the cracks of brick in fingertips, threading between the vines holding, she cursed herself. Scaling up the side of the Elfsong in grunts of effort.

Stupid, stupid.

Her anger feeding her strength.

Thank the Gods she had been training herself with Shadowheart or she would be broken on the cobblestones.

She leapt up and got a hold on the lip of the roof. Legs dangling out then pulling in, arcing out and twisting up. Catching her heel on the gutter and rolling with gasping breaths on the morning warmed shingles.

Blinking away the endless sky.

What had Karlach said when she watched her scale an oak tree?

"Gods, soldier. If you were anymore of a daredevil I would've hunted you in Avernus."

Tav laughed quietly to herself, patting her bicep twice. Gotta make her girl proud.

She rose to knees, orienting herself. The high wind whipping her hair as she circled with her eyes.

Yes, she could just see the edge of the roof. It would have to do.

"Please let this work." She whispered to herself. Pulling the scroll of Dimension Door from her waistband.

Standing she felt a shingle wiggle under her foot then slip away. Catching herself she gave it a withering look.

Setting her sights, she took a deep breath.

Shouting the incantation, she felt a great pull from behind her spine, and the air broke around her with a crack.

Only doing this with Gale bracing her in the past, she buckled forward when her body crashed back into the world.

Landing with a loud scrambling thud on the roof of the Elerrathin Manor.

"Mom, there's someone on the house!"

Clean hair damp from her bath and swaddled in fresh clothes, Tav sat curled into a plush corner, taking in Jaheira's surprisingly cozy office. Her bloodstained nightgown being tended to, though she insisted there was no need.

The druid worked quietly at her desk. Tav had stepped in, and she had gestured to her kindly to make herself comfortable. "I'll be just a moment."

"No rush." Tav pulled her legs tucked under her. She felt safe here, no easy feat. Beyond the Selune outpost, she could think of very few places where that was possible.

"There. I'll send this with a raven to our Shadowheart." She folded the letter with sure fingers, handing it to a messenger rat that scampered away in determination.

Tav let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I've been worrying myself sick about leaving her in the dark."

Jaheira turned in her chair, giving Tav her full attention.

"Why are you back, cub?"

The underlying question hanging in the air.

Why did you willingly walk into the vipers den?

She bowed her head in shame. Picking at the edge of her leggings.

"Hubris? Hope?" Shook her head. "Definitely stupidity."

"A need for closure is not stupidity." Jaheira sighed knowingly. "The way you could go about it on the other hand..."

Tav laughed, tired and embarrassed, but safe.

"Gods, I don't know. I dont think people like us get closure. It was a terrible idea, Shadowheart said so herself. I just-" She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "I don't want to live in fear. I have lived so much of my life under a knife, I want some breathing room for once."

Jaheira nodded. "You deserve peace. And I will do everything in my power to assist in that. I have already sent word to The Guild, The Harper's, and pulled some strings with the Duke. You will be protected from all sides. You can walk through our city freely."

She organized some papers on her desk and stood, offering out a hand. "And, if you'll allow me, I can give you the best protection I can offer. I will ward you from his harm." Winked, hitching her head over to an open letter on the desk, spinning with blue magic. "A little gift from our friend Gale. I sent for him as soon as Rion pulled you off of our roof."

Tav blinked, tears forming. "This is... so much more than I could ever hope for." A hitching sob caught in her throat. "Thank you."

She held her hand out and pressed her palm into hers.

Jaheira spoke, eyes alight, the air swirling with great pulsing light.

Tav could feel the magic infuse into her, unmistakably Gale's. A warm caress washing over, the smell of old books. A brief phantom hand stroking her cheek.

She smiled, the ends of her hair lifting. The last of the magic pulling in circles into her.

Hello, dear. Welcome back.

"Children, there will be more than enough time to bother her in the morning. Let our guest get some rest."

Little legs running circles around her, Tav smiled warmly. "Ah, I don't mind."

"Don't encourage them." Jaheira laughed, looking fondly but sternly at Fig. "Bed now, little guard."

"Aw, alright. But I'm sleeping outside the door!"

"You most certainly are not."

Tav laughed. "I don't know, I'd be a fool to turn down more protection."

Jaheira pressed her palm on Fig's head, leading her away. "And yet, little guardians are in need of their rest. Off with you now. You too, Jhessem."

The small girl that had been peeking behind the corner squeaked and retreated into her bedroom.

"You certainly have your hands full." Tav mused as the hallway emptied. "Are you sure I'm not going to be a burden?"

"Never." Jaheira reached out and squeezed her hand. Hers warm and calloused. "Now you get some rest too." Spoken in that same stern tone she had used with her children, a sparkle of playfulness in her eyes.

"Ah, okay. You've twisted my arm." Tav mock sighed. Giving her hand one grateful weighted squeeze before releasing.

"Enjoy some safety, you've earned it." Jaheira hushed as she turned away.

Tav closed the door to the spare bedroom behind her. Barely contained tears rolling to the surface.

She curled into a ball on the floor. Letting it wash over her. Hitching sobs wrenching her throat. The tidal wave finally having its way.

Gods, she was so filled with hope it stung her heart. The feelings of grief, exhaustion, wonder, protection, all threading together. A rope that had been tied to her throat now wound tight around her fist.

Even after all of this time, they rallied around her. Her heart bursting with their strength. She was indebted to them all.

He crouched on the lip of her new hideaway. There you are, my treasure.

The sweet heady call of her blood, still pulsing through him, leading him here.

One of his many new gifts, he could sense her as long as she coursed through him. Her blood had always bewitched him. Even if hadn't been searching for her, he mused that the river of her would have sung him back regardless.

Eyes scanning the outside of the ledge for traps he was shocked to find the window unlatched.

Tav was not stupid, if anything she was infuriatingly clever. Outfoxing him twice now the proof of that. He was loathe to admit that the only reason he had found her so quickly was the bloodcall.

He slipped inside, quiet as death. Moved on silence to her bedside.

She was curled on her side, breathing softly. Her sweet face relaxed, pouted lips slightly open. Those doe eyes moving back and forth under her lids. Dreaming.

A shot of possession cracked through him. He needed her back.

He reached forward and tried to scoop under her legs and back but felt a bite of magic, pain arcing across his skull. His hands compelled to release.

A familiar voice: You may not have her.

Fucking Gale.

He snarled in frustration. Why do they all insist on interfering in his affairs. This was his consort, his should-be bride. His.

She settled back down into the sheets but leaned into him as he pulled away. Sighing in her sleep.

"Astarion,"

He almost answered, kneeling down. His face inches from hers. Fingers caressing her cheek, her neck. Watching her face, rapturous.

Her eyebrows pulled together in pleasure, lips parting. A sweet little breath leaving her.

He hummed low in his throat, a fierce elation rocking through him.

It had been years since she had reacted to his touch like this. All soft pleading, calling him to her. He could not deny her.

He climbed carefully onto the bed, distributing his weight evenly. Straddled over her, hand still raking feather light desire across her skin.

"Astarion," She moaned quietly. Arching up to meet his touch.

"Yes, my darling," He cooed to her sleeping words. Pulling the blanket away slowly, leaning down and kissing her collarbone. Hand cupping her breast with a low moan. Slotting between her legs.

She sighed, words hushed and barely formed, but he could make it out. "I missed you."

A lightning strike of need and grief struck him.

She had too much power over him, that was the problem. He had every intention of making her happy in the beginning. Loathefully desperate for her to stay, he had offered her everything. Finery, food, any lavish thing she set her sights on. And his linchpin, immortality. To make her his vampiric bride.

But she only smiled at him. Her bewitched fingers running along his arm. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. I just got my life back, Starlight. Let me have a little living before I decide."

Oh, how he had pushed, prodded, enticed. Eventually demanded, berated, bled. He tried to break her, but she had never given in. The panicked screaming at the lack of control in his head aside, he respected her for it. He would have ruined her.

Well, ruined her more.

He softly circled his thumb over her wrist. The scars he had left there sneering at him.

Look what you did. You deserve this.

His old voice in his head again.

You aren't worthy of her.

He clenched down his jaw.

You're disgusting. Treating her like that.

He shook his head. He did what he felt he needed to do. Right?

Her hand reaching for his face broke his hateful trance.

He leaned down into her searching fingers. His eyes closing in quiet bliss when he met her touch.

Her soft fingers stroking his face was a spellbinding balm. He pushed his face further into her, sighing.

Going without tenderness from her for so long, he felt drunk. His whole body swirling with heady pleasure.

He leaned down, eyes lidded heavy with lust. Gently pulling her nightgown down along the collar. Leaving heated kisses along her clavicle.

She moaned, a high intoxicating call.

Oh Gods, he needed her.

He snaked his hand under the covers, her blanket warmed thighs a sacred domain. Still unbearably soft, lamb's ear made flesh.

His eyes hitched back as he met her center. Fingers trailing over her curls to slide back into his home. A velvet wetness meeting him, coating his fingertips.

He leaned his head down into her chest, already overcome. Rutting his hard cock into her hip in slow rapturous thrusts.

He slowly pushed his two fingers in, her body arching up. Her small whimper wrapping around his head in dizzy circles.

Her sleeping form capable of no scrutiny he felt no need to perform. His walls falling.

"Tav," He moaned, pumping his fingers into her endless warmth. Thumb pushing devotion in circles against her clit.

Gods she was too beautiful, it made his chest ache to look at her when she was like this.

Softly mewling, her labored breath a heady miasma pulling him down.

He leaned down to her neck, fangs grazing along her pulse point. Felt a warning crackle of magic.

Gods damn it.

If he didn't have her blood in him, he felt empty. He needed that connection to her.

He relented, leaving a needful kiss along the two pinprick scars he had pushed into her long ago. Feeling a snarl of pride for those, at least. Anyone can look upon her and see this mark of him imprinted in her body.

His fingers curled up in that way he remembered she liked, got the immediate reward of her hips squirming. A short gasp that moved into a pleading moan.

His eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open against her chest. Precum leaking into his trousers. His head nothing but circling waves of desire.

Gods he felt like an animal on all fours, controlled by its heat.

Only she could make him come undone like this.

Only she could pull this from him.

Please stay asleep a little longer. He thought to her, though he knew they no longer shared a tadpole.

I need you. I need you to want me again.

His desire too great for anymore subtle movements, he arced his hips down and ground his erection into the mattress. Whimpering in the back of his throat.

He pulsed his fingers in as controlled a ministration as he could manage, feeling his end approaching hot on his heels.

He leaned up into her ear, watching the rhythmic arches of her body in rapturous greed.

"Come for me, darling." He breathed into her, nipping at her lobe.

She shuddered under him, head falling back. Her neck opening up to him, a flower unfurling in the sun. Her cunt gripped his fingers in vicious pulses, pulling him further into her. That hauntingly beautiful face straining in release.

He gasped in quick choppy breaths, biting back a moan as his pelvis contracted, a deep shudder pulling through him, spurting long pulses inside his finery. Eyes rolling into the back of his skull, gripping into the sheets next to her head. His newly beating heart thumping against the back of his chest.

She murmured something softly and turned on her side, cradling his head into her chest. Hooking her legs around his in an intimate tangle.

Part of his head screamed at him to pull away, but he was helplessly pulled down. Eyes closing with shameful tears threatening.

How long had it been since she had held him?

He buried his face in her. Breathing her in like the last gulp of air before a tide pull.

He knew he couldn't stay, if she awoke the spell would be broken. She would turn him away, that spear of contempt in her eyes. Or worse, the flat deadness that overtook her when he pushed too far, an opaque distant glaze over her doe eyes.

You've really broken her, haven't you? Just like Cazador broke us.

"Shut up." He hissed under his breath.

He carefully maneuvered out of her embrace with an annoyed huff. He was being ridiculous. There was a way to break this spell and he would find it.

Then she would be his again. Finally. Take her back to the place where she belonged.

He allowed himself one last look at her, bristling at himself at the brief spike of longing he felt, before he pulled up into the night air. Twisting into the moonlight, back to the Crimson Castle.

He had research to do.

Part 6

#its my headconon that tav refusing being turned would make him ten times more crazy #astarion smut #astarion x tav #ascended astarion #lyrics from: euclid - sleep token

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writingattemptsxx · 5 months

Text

Twist Incorrect Quotes

—

Some of these are from vines/TikTok (random ones from compilations). I didn’t have many ideas.

Azul: Ok, just act normal.

Jade: :)

Floyd: :D

*Azul looks at them*

Azul: Normal normal. Not you normal.

—

Riddle: Do you want to tell me what happened?

Ace: No, I don’t.

—

Vil: What do you have

Epel: A knife!

Vil: NO!

—

*Deuce shakes Ace awake*

Ace: Dude what do you want?! It’s three am!

Deuce: When butterflies are anxious do the feel humans in their stomach?

Ace: What?

Deuce: When vampires bite someone, are there teeth straws, or do they just make a puncture then suck?

Ace: …

Ace: What?

—

Jamil: I left for five seconds!

Kalim: And I was left unsupervised for five seconds.

—

Kalim: *exist*

Jamil: Can you not?

—

Silver: Father, I’m hungry.

Lilia: Nice to meet you hungry, I’m your father.

—

Deuce: Hey what’s up, girl.

Ace: *grabs Deuce’s hand raising it along with both his hands* Girl you look fierce today and we love it!

Deuce: Dude what are you doing?!

Ace: Well if you get a girlfriend, you won’t have time for me, man.

Deuce: What do you mean?!

#finished #writing #writing blog #twisted wonderland #twst ace #twst deuce #twst riddle #twst jade #twst floyd #twst azul #twst kalim #twst jamil #twst lilia #twst silver #twst vil #twst epel #twst incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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boxfullaturtles · 2 months

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The great Baron Draxum + humiliation or left to bleed

It doesn't even cross his mind that, even after everything, there would be people who still hated him.

He has protections on the apartment Michelangelo had given him, he's not an idiot. But Draxum doesn't see the point in barricading his living place with tedious layers upon layers of spells. As long as he's not in the Hidden City, who cares what he's doing.

Someone cares, obviously.

Someone cares because Draxum has come home from a long shift of serving lunch to ungrateful human brats and found he's not alone in his apartment.

There's a knife between his ribs before he can register the other presence.

It's not enough to bring him down, but it's enough to severely wound him. Especially from a blade specifically meant to counteract a yokai's natural healing abilities. There's hot blood staining his clothes, pouring through his fingers as he presses them to his wound. It's hard to breathe, his gasps sound wet and he feels like he's drowning--a punctured lung, probably. Shit.

The blade bites into his thigh before he manages to put distance between himself and his assailant. A cough scrapes his chest and he tastes metal on his tongue.

He lashes out with his vines, adrenaline numbing the blinding pain, and smashes his attacker into the wall. The energy it takes leaves him staggering, leaning against the kitchen counter to keep himself upright. Baron Draxum will not be downed by a simple knife wound, he refuses! He is stronger than this!

The way his breath wheezes thickly says otherwise.

A flash of the knife flying at him and Draxum throws himself to the side to avoid it. But his attacker has chased their weapon, snatching it from the air and whirling on him with a ferocious precision. An assassin, then, a trained professional. Well, at least it's not some hapless nobody, that would have been embarrassing.

His vines do a decent job of blocking their strikes as he backpedals, trying to create distance. But they are persistent and he is rapidly growing weaker.

They break through his defenses and dig their knife deeply into his chest, slicing easily through his shirt--useless, no defensive properties, no armor, just fabric. The red spray leaves a streak across his attacker and Draxum falls to the floor.

He's bleeding profusely in two places now and his vision is going dark and fuzzy at the edges. There are patterns of crimson dancing across the floor of his apartment. He doesn't try to get up. He wasn't going to win this fight, not after that initial blow. He's nowhere near as strong as he used to be.

A glance up at the assassin finds them staring back without expression. All he can see is their eyes, cold and hard and professional. Draxum lets his head hang, breath stuttering. There's a creak of floorboards and he knows he is alone. The assassin knows their job is done. Draxum cannot hope to recover from this on his own and no one will be coming for him, not this late in the day, in the middle of the week.

He is a dead man.

He lets his eyes close. Well, it'd been a decent life, all things considered. He hopes his death does not make Michelangelo cry. (He knows it will. He wishes he could apologize. He wishes he had hugged Michelangelo more.)

His blood is cooling rapidly as it pools around him, sticky against his fur. His breathing is shallow. His thoughts are slipping away.

Somewhere close by and yet miles away, there is a bang of a door slamming open. Someone is laughing.

The laughter breaks off abruptly,

"...Barry?"

#runs away giggling #this was a fun one i don't often write draxum #sage writes turtles #tmnt angst prompts #cw blood

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mooncleaver · 2 years

Text

it is my greatest honor, loving you

ღ life may not be eternal, but your love for him surely is

ღ pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader

ღ warnings: very much angst, unrequited love obviously, major character death, graphic descriptions of wounds/blood

now playing ⇝ cardigan by taylor swift

my masterlist ♡

"why are you so reckless? you could've hurt yourself out there!" his voice sounded hoarse and tired, as if grains of sand ran through his throat as he attempted to calmly reprimand you. huh, that was ironic coming from percy. coming from a boy who'd sacrifice his own self for the sake of saving the people he loved.

now one might wonder how exactly you got into this situation, barely holding up while you clutched yourself, staring at the boy you came to love, arguing with him.

the battle of the labyrinth had been a tough and devastating one, annihilating a large number of demigods in the camp. it seemed that no one left the battle unscarred, whether physically or mentally.

perhaps one of the biggest losses was dionysus' son, castor, your fellow campmate. he was your friend,—a kind and fiercely loving one—often laughing and joking around together with him and pollux in the pavilion whenever you got the chance to. the earth had cried for him the moment he fell limp to the ground, soul whisked away in the arms of thanatos while the wine god's rage casted a mass of serpentine vines where he lay, the oblique, verdant greeneries prodding at his cold figure.

there were too many precious souls who were lost—among them being the ever-bright lee fletcher, who's light died when a giant brought his cruel demise—and the list only seemed to get longer the more you thought about it. you too, would be lining up for judgment soon enough, you predicted.

it was all too fast for you to fully remember, but one moment you were fighting off a giant and the next you had thrown yourself at a demigod from kronos' army intending to hurt an unaware percy. suddenly you were gripped so tightly on the shoulders, eyes widening with a quivering gasp while you looked down, only to see scarlet liquor leaking out of an obtrusive hole in your stomach, the twisted grin of your enemy patronizing your defenseless figure as you staggered back and clutched the liquid that flowed relentlessly. maybe if they didn't shuck it out as fast as it came in, maybe you would've lasted a lot longer. all you could do was choke out an amalgamation of incoherent sounds, knotting the flannel outer you wore around your midriff; the coil only flared the excruciating agony you were in.

you heard him crying out for you somewhere in the middle of it all, rough-hewn and distinctive among the clashing ores and shouts of rage and defeat. your stubborn head proved itself defiant when you'd ignored his pleas, his voice already fading away as he was dragged into another fight in the chaos. percy didn't see the folk puncturing you, only the aftermath when you stumbled back, your aghast reaction unmistakable to him. and maybe it was a good thing that he didn't know the severity of your condition. that only meant that he would bear much less of a burden than what he was already dealing with.

as dumb as it was, you kept fighting even after being heavily injured. your stab wound wasn't that bad, was it? if you could still stand—barely, that is—then you could still fight. the ringing in your ears only grew worse as adrenaline slowly numbed the pain, your vision turning into dizzy kaleidoscopes with every movement of your weapon.

you hoped your effort contributed something in the battle. somewhere in your mind you knew you'd end up at death's door sooner or later; there was no way you'd reach help in time before the immense blood loss took you away. but if there was one thing you knew, you wanted to be a hero before you died. you wanted to be able to leave a legacy behind, imagining an echoing battle cry before you fell with your dear sword beside you, or to die by protecting someone else so they could live a life fuller than yours. and you wanted to love someone completely, love someone so much that it leaves a searing inferno in your heart, to have a love that makes you go mad, a love that makes you feel alive. even if the one person you gave yourself to didn't want you.

it was something you'd never regret: being percy jackson's friend; loving him along the way, too. it has been your greatest adventure and your greatest honor to know him in this life, from the moment you stumbled upon his lonely figure near the muted docks of the traversing lake to the second you knew you cared for him in a way that transcended your own being. it was one of the most shattering experiences in your life: finding out that he didn't feel the same way about you. that intimate moment when he confessed his feelings about someone else right in front of your eyes; that would haunt you forever. if you could, you would erase that recollection from the depths of your mind, but you cared for him too much to forget that rare vulnerability shared between the two of you. you don't even think you have the will to erase any memory of percy jackson.

you'd cried yourself to sleep that night, wishing that it was all a dream when you woke up the next dawn. but fate has a funny way of working. each passing of her name on his lips chipped your heart away bit by bit, till it turned into a dilapidated mess that barely resembled what it looked like when the youth of discovering your first love coursed through its veins.

but no matter how much heartbreak hurt, loving someone is never a waste.

the two of you would never happen, no, not in a million years you thought. he had already given his heart away to someone else a long time ago, someone who you knew couldn't accept his love right now. it was just agonizing too see the way he would continue to pine after her and end up in the dust when reality came crushing in. still, he never gave up on her. because you simply don't give up on love.

that undying loyalty of his—the one you grew to despise and admire at the same time. you watched the way he chose her over you. every, single, time.

you understood it to a certain degree; you can't choose who you fall in love with. but that didn't make it hurt any less. so here you were now, left with a barren heart while you helped him pick up the pieces of his own.

percy's cry broke you out of your miserable thoughts, befuddled at how you were so accepting of your predicament. of course he would be. he didn't know you did it for him. "σκατά, y/n, you can't just- you can't risk your life for someone else!"

"but i did it for you." the silence became a little too loud, ringing in your ears like a haunted pendulum.

"what?" was his breathless response. his jaw was slowly opening, moving without a sound as if he didn't know what to say. you saw the way his brows scrunched up together, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched.

you repeated it again. "i did it for you."

your face looked soulless, blotches of crimson blooming in petalled coteries on the ivory ribbons wrapped around your body. you had a cut on the vermillion border of your lips, blood slowly seeping back out the more you talked. it was becoming more difficult to open your eyes. your body was screaming at you to lay down, aching with a heaviness in your bones that could not be salvaged. you just wanted to rest, but you wouldn't leave him hanging like that. even if the closure was a painful one, it would be cruel to leave percy without telling him the truth of your heart. at least, that's what you thought. if you were going to die, then you were going to take one last chance of happiness than conceal it and close your eyes with only the memory of sorrow long lasting.

it was almost pitiful, really, the way you were still willing to entertain him even in your detrimental state. your eyes were sunken in deep exhaustion, still laden with mist that glinted as it caught the effulgent flicker lighting up the back of a cabin you could not bother to recognize.

he raised his voice at first, utter confusion and frustration unfurling in his tone until it dimmed out to something much softer, like the barely contained hurt was still lingering. "why?!.. why me?" his timbre earned a softer edge to it, fading into a sotto voce and if you let your hopes get a little too high you might've thought there was a hint of care in it.

you knew if you tilted your gaze the slightest bit at his direction you'd cave into the look in his eyes. it was too easy, too easy for percy to worm his way into your heart no matter how much he hurt you.

..why him?

why not him. it was the easiest thing in the world to do anything for percy jackson. you didn't understand why it was so hard for him to acknowledge the fact that you would actually walk to the ends of the earth for him and retrieve the stars from the sky if he wished. it was him who taught you that love was just as fragile and destructive as it was wonderful and invaluable, him who helped you open your eyes to a world much beautiful than what you'd made of it. and that in itself was worth far more than any materialistic attainment you've ever received. was it because he was questioning his place in your heart? how much you cherished him?

anger and sadness were a dangerous pair, and the pain you felt turned into something that blazed the walls of your heart, burning a path through your line of thought until frustration marred each corner of your mind. why couldn't he understand what your heart was trying to say? was it not obvious the way you were so painfully enamored by him? how dare he question his worth to you?

they say the eyes are the windows to the soul, bearing the deepest and obscure feelings one could have.

if percy wanted to know and wanted to see what you felt so badly, then you would show him exactly that. you looked up to him, arms clenched around your midriff with eyes carrying the heaviest spectacle of sorrow and longing; eyes that bared the weight of a burden held far too long and at that moment he finally understood. understood the utter pain and hopelessness you had repressed, understood why you were so willing to give your own life for him.

"because i love you, goddamit! i love you.."

the tension was more than palpable after your passion-filled declaration. you saw the way he faltered, staggering back almost with the brunt of what you just said. his breaths grew ragged and his eyes moved wildly as if he was searching for any bit of a lie in you.

"take that back.. please we can't- i can't-"

and then finally the words you've dreaded were spoken out of his mouth. a defeated breathe was knocked out of you the second he finished that sentence, burning through your nostrils while it flared the fountain threatening to cascade from your heavy waterline. no amount of mental preparation could've supported you in this moment. you already knew what he was going to say, unfortunately. you saw it in the way he refused let go of her despite the tribulations he faced. it just hurt knowing that your heart thought if the uncertainty of tomorrow was looming above, there might have been hope somewhere in there.

"cant what, percy? accept the love someone has for you when the person you're chasing after so clearly does not give one shit about you!" for a moment you watched the pain morph onto his face, and you knew you'd hit a nerve when you said that. it felt wrong.. so wrong to hurt him, but your anger and desperation got the best of you this time.

"i love you so much that it hurts," you pointed at your chest, borderline hurting yourself as your fists bunched up and tugged on the bloodied orange shirt that sheathed your wounded skin. "it hurts to see you in pain, to see your heart breaking apart when i can't even do anything about it. and i would.. i would do anything for you, but you-.. you don't want me.. and that's okay!" you laughed humorlessly, the sound so harrowingly hollow that it almost made him flinch.

"i'm okay.." you whispered and it sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself that you were not already crumbling.

"but that will never stop making me care about you. that's what love does to a person, percy, and i cant just take it back.." you wiped away the defiant tears that managed to flow down the planes of your face, sniffing the waver in your voice away and trying to look strong so he wouldn't feel so guilty over something he couldn't control.

"no, i wont take it back. because for me.. for me it's enough to know that i've made a change in your life—big or small. i could never regret loving you, percy."

and for the first time percy jackson truly felt like a coward. a coward to walk away, a coward to leave you with a broken heart, only shattering it more when he stepped out of that damn balcony. he felt like a coward for pushing away the unimaginable.

he didn't know that a few minutes later you'd collapsed from excessive blood loss, clutching that untreated wound on your stomach in a last attempt to get to the infirmary. he didn't know that this would be the last words he would hear from you—words that were so incredibly impassioned and sincere. he didn't know the exhaustion the apollo kids felt the minute you were carried in,—battered, mangled and barely pulling through—knowing there was yet another valiant soul they could not save. he did not know that till your last tattered breath you'd thought of him, a serene smile soothing your face as you surrendered to the familiar arms of reclamation that cradled your weightless body while the light slowly faded away.

percy jackson didn't know many things that night. he didn't understand how something so important to one could be snatched away so easily like that, didn't understand why everything always happened the way fate planned it to be. but he knew he'd just lost the one constant love he's ever known; the one that was right in front of him the whole time, offering their heart on a silver platter only to be left decaying the moment you finally decided to choose your own happiness over the resolute of resignation.

FINALLY going back to my roots and writing unrequited love my beloved 🥰

imagine the disbelief and elation i was in when i found this in my wip files.. i don't know why i suddenly abandoned it??

σκατά : shit

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