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godoflobsters · 3 years

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The Brothers and Dateables With a Tattoo Artist MC

My own MC was a tattoo artist before she came to the Devildom, so I thought I’d write up some head cannons with a tattoo artist MC.

MC is gender neutral!

Mammon

Nobody can convince me that the “Brothers Under a Pact” squad wouldn't be the first ones to get tattoos from MC, and Mammon would definitely be the first

Definitely likes to brag about it too

Don't remind him that there are countless people in the human realm that you tattooed before him or he will pout

People tend to think that Mammon is cheap and would try to talk you into giving him free or cheap tattoos, but he couldn't stand to be like that towards you especially regarding something that you’re so good at

Our first man works his butt off every time he wants to get some new ink from you

Likes to give you a big ole tip every time

Gets fidgety when he has to sit still for too long so you two have to take breaks often

Prefers small/medium sized tattoos rather than really big ones

One time after he started getting tattoos from you, he was at a modeling gig and they tried to make him cover them up with makeup, he quit and that magazine went bankrupt not too long after...dont fuck with the avatar of greed

Once your shop starts taking off in the Devildom, he and Asmo try to convince you to do a shoot for Majolish(They definitely didn't pull some strings to get Majolish to do a whole segment about you and your business)

Beelzebub

The second brother to get a tattoo from MC

Refuses to get any food related tattoos: he doesn't want to accidentally take a chunk out of himself when he gets blinded by his hunger

This man has a very high pain tolerance and sits like a rock while you're tattooing him and you love him for it

He definitely needs snack breaks during longer sessions though

Has a memorial tattoo for Lillith over his heart that matches with one on Belphie

While making this list I was randomly blessed with the mental image of Beel with abuncha old school American traditional tattoos and you can pry that headcannon from my cold, dead hands

Mammon likes to brag that he has the most tattoos from you, but Beel might give him a run for his money, he doesn't mind Mammon’s bragging most of the time though, so he just lets him believe whatever he wants this time

Simeon

But Simeon has never been all that great at following the rules that they set for him

The first of the dateables to get a tattoo

He wasn't actually planning on getting a tattoo at first, but one day he overheard Luke trying to scold you for all of your tattoos(definitely before the incident with Beel and Lucifer in the underground tomb) and that was the only push he needed to jump on the “tattoos from MC” train

There is a lot of rhetoric in the Celestial Realm about how “Your body is a temple and you should not mark it”

He’s still not willing to stray too far from his roots though, so he’d probably get something with vaguely religious undertones

Absolutely delights in the shocked look on your face and the sheepish questions on whether angels are allowed to do this

Once he’s finally convinced you that you're not damning him to fall by tattooing him, the process goes by very easily

He is very easygoing and open regarding designs and he handles the pain very well

He absolutely loves to show his tattoo off, even when he goes home to the Celestial Realm and receives his reprimands from Michael

Leviathan

The third brother to get a tattoo from MC

Didn't want to get a tattoo at first, all of that physical contact and pain on top of it? No way

But then Mammon, Beel, and even Simeon all got one and he got jealous

You're HIS Henry, why are THEY the ones who get to wear your art? He might’ve been able to deal with his dumb brothers, but SIMEON TOO?

You gotta sit down with him and have a nice long chat about it, making sure this is something that he would actually want to do and not just his envy talking

Spoiler alert: It was definitely just his envy talking

He realises that he is actually oddly attached to the idea of getting a tattoo from you now though, so he comes up with designs and draws them on himself until he is certain that he won't regret it

Would get something tiny and probably gaming related

Definitely very squeamish about the pain aspect but the design that the two of you came up with is very simple and small, so he is able to make it through without fainting

He absolutely loves his new tattoo...but he is never doing that again

Belphegor

Fourth brother to get a tattoo

Has wanted to get one ever since Beel showed him the tattoo he got in memory of Lillith, but things were very...not good...between the two of you at that point

Finally worked up the courage to at least ask if you would be okay with it after the two of you made a pact

Beel, forgetting his super high pain tolerance, told him that it getting a tattoo doesn't hurt at all, so he was in for a big surprise when he went under the needle for the first time

Whiny at first, but he manages to stay very still for you

Has a memorial tattoo for Lilith over his heart that matches with one on Beel

Will definitely start to doze off during long sessions

Convinced Satan to get a matching Anti Lucifer League tattoo with him(definitely doesn't try to convince you to get one too)

Make sure that he does not, under any circumstances, actually fall asleep while you're tattooing him. He did once and he rolled over in his sleep, almost ruining an entire tattoo

Ever since that time, Beel has come with him to his sessions so you could focus on your work and he can focus on keeping Belphie awake

Satan

Gets his tattoo not long after Belphie

One of those people that think every tattoo needs to mean something so he takes forever trying to pick out something that he wants

Would probably get some sort of quote or design inspired by his favorite book, something that really resonated with who he is as a person

Was somehow convinced by Belphie to get an Anti Lucifer League tattoo

Does he regret it whenever he realizes that he now has a portion of his skin dedicated to Lucifer of all people? Possibly, but he definitely won't say anything about it to you

Loves to look at you and just admire your tattoos, asking the stories behind each and every one of them that he can see

He might be a bigger fan of literature than the fine arts, but that doesn't mean that he has any less of an appreciation for your work

Definitely pulls some strings and gets one of his friends who owns an art gallery to display some of your work there

Can set you up with all the connections that you need to make your mark on the Devildom art world

Lucifer

The last of the brothers to get a tattoo

In the beginning he has no intentions of getting a tattoo, he does have alot of respect for your talents and how hard you work for them though

As an art lover and artist himself, he will most certainly commission you from time to time and hang your work in his study

He won't admit it, but seeing your art and thinking of you when he's stressed with work is very soothing

He eventually decides to let you tattoo him only if it’s in a place that is easily covered by his clothes, considering how he dresses that leaves you with pretty much his entire body to work with

Sometimes when he has some time off he will grab a sketchbook and join you if he finds you in the common room working on a design, you share a comfortable silence, with the only sounds be the crackling of the fireplace and the scratching of pencils on paper

The kind of person that wants a tattoo but has no idea what he actually wants, but hes picky as fuck so he will turn down every single idea that you give him for weeks

He is lucky that you love him

Whenever you two talk about placements, if you mention anything on his back to cover up the scars from his wings he will almost back out entirely

Almost

Afew months later he’ll put his pride aside come back, admitting that your ideas would be perfect and that he wants to go through with it

During the session he has way too much pride to admit that he was feeling any pain

That is until you have to start going over the scars

As soon as the needles hit scar tissue he starts to fall apart; tears, shaking, the whole nine yards

It takes you quite a few sessions to finish since he cant handle such long sessions on that portion of his back

The summer after his new back piece is finished, he goes with you and his brothers back to Diavolo’s beach, this time he takes his shirt off in front of everyone for the first time since the fall

He wears your art with such pride that he lets everyone keep the memory, he even lets Asmo keep the pictures he took of all of them up on Devilgram

Diavolo

Wanted to be the first to get a tattoo but Barbatos said no

If you want to continue your career in the Devildom for the duration of your stay, he will buy you a building to work from and any supplies to get started since you had to leave your stuff in the human realm

Diavolo has rooms in the castle filled with the art that he's collected over the years, so when he sees that you're an artist he gets so excited

Before he finally gets tattooed by you, he buys a lot of your artwork and hangs it up around the castle

It takes a few years to propose the idea again to Barbatos in a way that wont make the butler’s hair fall out from stress, but he finally relented under one condition: it has to be in an area that is still hidden while he’s in his demon form

He decides that his legs would be the perfect place to indulge in your artistic talents while also keeping Barbatos’s controlling side at bay

Hes another one that knows he wants a tattoo but no clue what he wants to get

Unlike Lucifer though, he is a true open canvas

He truly adores your art so he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body and knows that he will love anything that you do for him

He knows that this is most likely very nerve wracking for you considering his position so he tries to reassure you and make the process very easy for you

You still put everything into designing him something fit for a king

He’s the type to prefer large pieces that span over entire sections of his body rather than abuncha small/medium sized ones

Another fidgetter, he’s really not all that accustomed to pain so he doesn't have a high tolerance for it

Likes to treat you to dinner at Ristorante Six after each of his sessions

Tips like the absolute king he is, you could probably pay a couple months of rent back at your apartment in the Human Realm just from his tip

Once his tattoo is finally finished and healed, he will find every excuse that he can think of to invite you and the brothers on outings to places where he is free from scrutiny to wear shorts and show off your artwork

Barbatos

The last of all of the boys to get a tattoo

It was a complete shock to everyone when he came to you and asked if he could make an appointment to get tattooed by you

“Everyone” being you, Diavolo, and Lucifer because nobody else knows that it happened and he would like to keep it that way

Another member of the “I’ll get one as long as it’s somewhere nobody will see” club...so basically not his face

Before the two of you get to talking about designs, you expect him to go with something small and simple, maybe an elegant little teapot or something along those lines

Then this man comes to his consultation and throws you for a loop talking about a sleeve

Very picky, he has high standards for himself and what's on his body

Knows exactly what he wants but does his best not to stifle your creativity during the design process

You learn ALOT about just who lurks behind Barbatos’s mild-mannered butler facade during his sessions, he’s surprisingly upfront and honest whenever you have him under the needle

Solomon

Can't get a tattoo

This man has pact marks for 72 demons all over his body, there is simply no more room

Any open space he has is being saved just in case any other demons *cough* Lucifer *cough* ever decide to come around to making a pact

Collects your flash and hangs it up around his room

If you take Diavolo up on his offer to set up a shop in the Devildom, he will make sure to tell all of his pact-mates about you, hype up your work, and get you a lot of business in the door

Sometimes he will commission art from you and use magic to make your art temporarily appear on his skin over the pact marks

Once you become a sorcerer and have a better grasp on your magic, he helps you experiment in creating magical inks and enchanting tattoos

Asmodeus

The only one that actually doesn't want to get a tattoo

He doesnt think that tattoos would fit in very well to the image that he has for himself

And not being able to show off every inch of his beautiful skin while its healing is a no from him

Since he likes to test out his new makeup and skincare products on you, sometimes after he has had his way with your face he will let you draw on him with skin safe markers

would definitely be a wimp about the pain

Will spam pictures to his Devilgram of his fancy new temporary tattoos and you drawing on him

Will definitely try to bring you some of his flings to get his name tattooed on them, you will have to reprimand him every single time and eventually he will stop

If you're not the type to keep up with social media, he’ll offer to keep up a Devilgram account for your shop

If you're ever attempting to draw and you have a very specific pose in your head that you can't find a reference for, he will not hesitate to get up and start posing for you

Luke

He is baby and cant have any tattoos until he's older

His mind frequently bounces back and forth between the whole “your body is a temple” rhetoric that he was taught growing up and “wow that's so cool!”

After Simeon got his tattoo Luke became a lot more enthusiastic and curious about your job though

Will occasionally ask if he can have one of your flash sheets so he can color your pictures

These very often end up on the fridge in Purgatory Hall

Sometimes they even make their way to the fridge in the House of Lamentation too

Will this make the brothers jealous? Yes. Do you care? No.

Luke loves you and looks up to you so much that he goes through a little phase of wanting to copy you, yourself and the entirety of Purgatory Hall can expect loads of temporary marker tattoos

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #I tried very hard to not show my blatant favoritism #mission failed #for the most part I didn't actually describe any tattoos so people can have their own interpretations #but if anybody is interested i have ideas on what everybody's would look like

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mochikeiji · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 6: Cool Down Methods

↠ Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Ice Play, BDSM, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob.

↬ Word Count: 2.1k

↣ a/n: ohayo! It's ur bby's birthday today!! Supposedly was about to post an Akaashi but I will save that for Day 25 :')) I apologize for the delay, exams are coming up this week. But afterwards I will be back and yes, Kinktober up til Day 31 will be completed, just delayed! Thank you again for loving my recent works!!

⇢ Day 6: Ice Play

The heat from his kisses were addicting. They made you feel like you were flying, safe with his presence, and loved. The way his hands roamed to tweak a nipple from your breast, escaped a mewl from your connected lips. He rubs it between his thumb and index, the other hand sliding up and down against your tied arm from the bed post for assurance; letting you know that he wasn't here to be rough with you today. That he was going to tale care of you. Good care of you.

Training the all star, monster generation of Japanese players was draining, more so during the hot, summer air. Hours of being cramped inside the damn gymnasium with a bunch of sweaty, built men wasn't helping your dearest Iwaizumi. It was a pure blessing that no one managed to thicken his skull today, not even Atsumu or Bokuto with their shenanigans, or else he would've came home with another round of heated rants running from his potty mouth. Instead he finds another way to cool the both of you down.

Innocently watching TV and in hopes he was talking about getting ice cream at the nearby convenient store crossed in your mind. Now, Iwaizumi was very timid around women, even if he had been stuck with you since his third year, he was still sometimes the stuttering mess around you whenever he had some...Intriguing matters.

But as you were effortlessly hoisted up from the comfort of your couch, legs instinctively locking themselves around his waist, all he did was gave you one look in the eye with his hands squeezing the globe of your ass and you were in his trance. Oh you would never pass down an opportunity where he comes home all bothered and ready to take you.

Once he settled you in bed not too long, his head leans in on your face. You thought you were going to have a taste of his lips as you were shutting your eyes closed. Once he knew he was close enough, he let's out a chuckle that made you confuse and pulls away, swinging his legs out of the bed.

"Wait there."

He came back after a few seconds and here you were, stripped out from the protection of your clothing and tied from the bed post. The elastic ropes he'd use for when he works out came to be more useful than he thought as they held your thighs open, tied to the knots on both sides of your wrist. With the help of a spare silk rope he used when tying curtains together, now to tie your wrists on each side of the bed post. You were so open; so vulnerable before his eyes.

"Hajime.."

A warm, callused palm laid on the base of your neck. Lightly squeezing it as he dives in for another taste of your kisses, the heat from both the air and the intimacy was getting unbearably annoying. It made your head spin a little from the lack of oxygen, luckily for you Iwaizumi pulled away and brushed away the locks of hair from your skin to keep you cool.

The air from the fan soon hits the spot that were at the verge of dropping a sweat, giving out a sigh in comfort, you heard clinking beside you, but unable to move your head up to process what Iwaizumi was doing from the heat, your body immediately arched with a loud gasp ripping out from your throat. Smooth with trails of freezing water slid from both of your sides. Ice cubes. So this is what he meant by keeping cool and why he went away.

Your back was kept arched as his hands continues moving up and down to your side, with the small blocks of ice cubes held in both fingers waiting for it to melt against the sensitive, heated skin.

"We should've done this a long time now, baby girl."

The last drop from the cube melted onto your skin then on the sheets, slowly relaxing your back on the mattress again, your heart pounded widely, thinking of the possible locations he might slide the cubes at and how it would feel. The anticipation made you gulp, Iwaizumi was not as merciless in bed as you thought. Imagining the hours of sliding those cold, deadly cubes against your cunt has you whining and bucking your wrists.

"H-haji!!"

He wasn't letting you arch your back this time. Having half of his weight laid on your stomach with his clothed crouch grazing against your naked cunt, one ice cube in his hand rubbing against your perked nipples alternatively. The smoothen corners of the ice taunting your nipple when he moves in circular motions. Each time he would press a little hard against the sensitive skin, your breathe would hitch.

"You're so sensitive here."

Half lidded as he stares hungrily at the puckered buds of your breast, when the cubes finally melted to their last drop, he leans down and began slurping a little too loud at each bud. Crying, you pulled onto your wrists; thighs getting numbed from the position as they were held open with less support. Iwaizumi wasn't pleased with your squirming while he was occupying himself with your breast, his erection prodding at his joggers to your exposed cunt and begins to grind along the wetness pooling.

Breathlessly whining his name, you couldn't help but tightened in desperation knowing the hardened erection of his— the tip, just poking teasingly at your wanting flower. The heat in your body was getting unbearable by the time passes as he still suckled on your buds. Crying, you pathetically tried to buck your hips against his, hoping to get some relieving friction.

"No, no, be patient, baby girl."

Finally stopping the assault on your chest, a huge wave of relief passed through your lungs as you breathed out. Iwaizumi had both of his hands now holding your hips down, but you missed the way his jaw was visibly clenched in irritation, feeling his own arousal pool on the fabric of his boxers.

No, not now. He wanted to see something.

"You just couldn't wait huh?"

Like all the color in your skin drained. You knew that tone, it meant you did something wrong and evidently you would have to face your consequence. You've seen this a lot when he was with Oikawa, it always ends up with him scolding the former setter.

Hearing him shrug his joggers off, you raised your head in curiosity, only to have your eyes scan down to see a spot on his boxers visibly leaking with pre cum and smirks up to you.

"Look what you did, baby. Now I'm all bothered too."

You wanted to shut your legs close when he glanced down to your pussy. Clenching to nothing, he continues to watch in hunger while you turned your head to the side to hide your embarrassment. There was this part of you that wanted to demand him to get inside of you and work you until you drop. But the otber side was being too submissive— still anticipating his next moves with the sound of cubes clinking to each other reached your ears.

But it drowned out to the sound of slurping and moaning to your precious center.

"A-AH!! Hajime!"

Sucking in your stomach at the sensitivity, Iwaizumi places a kiss with your wet cunt before using all four of his fingers to rub on your clit in fast cricles. You didn't dare look down as your mouth sprayed numerous of pleas and begs, knowing he was gazing up to see your expressions and your already flustered face look more fucked out. He gives you clit one last lick before sitting down as the sound of clinking was heard on his palms.

"AHH!"

The immediate contact of coldness was met with the bursting heat of your cunt. Iwaizumi hums and has a firm hold of the slowly melting cubes against your cunt. Your legs couldn't shut close, only making small movements with your tied arms followingz drooling and rutting on the cold cubes as he has you on his mercy.

"You like it, baby girl? You're practically shaking right now."

His voice dripped with roughness and dominance. The devilish hand of his began to move along your grinding, the ice melting faster with the rhythm until it only became water that slud from both his palm and your slit.

"Haji, no more, please, I need you."

His dick throbbed at the sound of your desperation. Already leaking through his boxers, shrugging them down without hesitation and his member slapping against his defined stomach. You hear him moan and saw the way his muscles flexed when his cock was freed, the air finally making contact on the naked skin made it twitch around.

Your mouth watered at the sight, bucking your hips upwards as a sign for him. But Iwaizumi sighs in bliss and went on his stomach, holding your inner thighs apart and diving in to eat out your cold cunt. The shocks on your body heightened, letting out a small scream and rutted on his face. Iwaizumi loved the way you tasted; loved the way you would lose yourself just for him as he did for you.

He couldn't withstand his own impatience and began thrusting his own cock on the bed, each time he'd grind against the mattress, his tongue would slither along your cunt in sync with his movements. The tip of his nose was tickling your little button of nerves, and all you could do was sob and beg for him to be inside of you.

The left over ice caught his gaze for a second, he wanted to make use of it, but he didn't want to pull away from his meal. Instead, he grabs the lcube from the bowl and held it with his fingers, groaning at his idea ans stopped thrusting, sliding the cube first at the tip of his cock.

"Mmh!!"

"Haji!!"

He moans louder at the contact of the ice, vibrating on your poor cunt that made you into a drooling mess. Iwaizumi felt bold enough to slide the cube on the sides of his cock, the water slipping down to drip on his balls. His brows were no longer furrowed as if they were irritated, the way they looked droppy with his eyes half lidded and cheeks tinted, he looked lost in his own ministrations and poured all of his noises on your cunt.

His dick began to twitch, when the ice melted he removes his hand from your thigh and grabbed onto the soaked length. Pumping it fast up and down and let's his mouth go off your cunt, panting and gripping your thigh.

"Fuck, fuck, baby. Cum with me, okay?"

Still trying to regain your breath, you looked down lazily, confused by his words until he introduced two fingers inside your pulsating cunt, making you squeal at the pace he was settling like on his cock; fast, rough and hard.

"FUCK! HAH AH— HAJI, PLEASE!!"

Fingers thick and long as his was another part where you loved to cum on. The way his beckon them on the right places has your toes curling, and your heart pumping with adrenaline. Iwaizumi can feel it, fje sound of your lewd voice singing went straight to his angry cock, the way his mind was getting fuzzy and no longer in control of the pave he has with both hands; he was close.

"HAJIME!!"

Fuck, he curses in his head and shuts his eyes. Your back was deliriously arching away from the bed as he hits the spot inside you. The tips of his fingers massaging roughly enough for the bubble inside you to combust and cream on his fingers with a scream.

"Fuck, baby—"

Pulling his fingers away from you cunt, he engulfs it with his hot mouth. Gulping and moaning out what you had to offer him as his cock spurts thick white ropes that went to his thighs. You could no longer say or give out a sound as his slurping is heard. Your legs were tired, but Iwaizumi immediately unties the ropes from your legs to let them drop on the mattress to rest.

He pulls away from your soaked pussy, giving them firm pats just to tease you until you whined for him. Chuckling, he moves up in between your legs and kisses you. Whispering sweet nothings and praises while peppering your face with small kisses.

"Was that suppose to cool us down?"

Both of your bodies were sweating, hearts can be heard beating fast from each other's chest. But both held the same smile that had so much love into them and satisfaction.

"You want me to do it again?"

Cupping both of your cheeks with his palms as he lays on top of your chest, his smile was cheeky. It made you wonder where has your shy, hedgehog of a boyfriend go, but nevertheless gave him the mirroring expression.

"This time, fuck me for real, Hajime."

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yslkook · 4 years

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#onboarding (1)

#corporate

summary: seokjin delivers some news to you that you were not ready to receive. or, jeon jungkook joins the company and you’re suddenly facing a part of your past that you hadn’t really wanted to.

word count: 1701

warnings: cursing, parental death

***

7:47 AM. Like clockwork, you always arrive in the parking lot at exactly 7:47 AM. It gives you enough time to brew yourself coffee in the lounge, set up your desk exactly the way you want it, and check your emails quickly.

It’s a ritual that you refuse to let go of, even after four years. You’ve been at the same company for the last four years, in the same position. You work in your company’s research and development organization, a group with thousands of individuals globally.

You are only a speck in the machine that was capitalism. As long as they were paying you, you didn’t mind. You had loans, bills, and your grandma to take care of.

Too bad they weren’t paying you enough. You had given nearly half a decade of your blood, sweat, tears, and time to this company and they had hardly raised your pay, hadn’t given you a promotion and had only just given you a portion of the bonus you deserved.

Without you, your boss and his boss would be six feet under and it’s a fact you never failed to complain to Seokjin about.

Which is what you were currently doing in the lounge.

Seokjin is your closest friend, outside of work and in work. Quite possibly, he’s your only friend. You had graduated in the same year from university, with the same major, the only difference was that he had finished graduate school and you hadn’t.

Seokjin is an associate director in the regulatory area within the company. You work closely with his team and his peers on projects. Regulatory and clinical science goes hand in hand- they’re often the people who tell you and your teams to take it down a notch when you get too excited about something that may not be feasible.

You call him a stickler, and he tells you that your head is in the clouds. It’s all in good fun.

You were three rankings below Seokjin. It was something that you tried your best not to get upset about- you both had started at the same time and he has risen far faster than you had within the company. While you were stagnant. That might be in part due to your management. But still, you tried your best to remain happy for your closest friend. You can be happy for him and still wish death upon the antiquated patriarchal expectations that still thrived in capitalist culture, after all.

11:58 AM. You ping Seokjin, asking if he wants to have lunch with you so that you’re spared the annoyance of eating at your desk. Or even worse, of eating with your direct boss.

Jin agrees quickly and you meet him at the top of the stairs to head down to the cafeteria together.

He stays in the cafeteria for a little longer than you- he ran into a few acquaintances and is chatting with them. You don’t wait up for him, instead paying for your food and finding a table to sit at.

You scroll on your phone for a few minutes, adjusting your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you wait for him to join you. He’s always been more keen than you to converse with people at work when he didn’t need to. It’s something he chastised you about frequently, about how you refused to network with the people around you.

You would always reply- “They can get to know me through my work. I’m not gonna blow air up their asses just so these fuckin’ airheads can feel good about themselves.”

He’d only look at you with that look, the look that stated that you’ve aged him a thousand years with one interaction.

“Hey,” Seokjin says, sliding into his seat across from you, “I’m so hungry.”

“Surprised you didn’t bring lunch today,” You observe after you chew some rice and chicken.

“I forgot it at home,” He says sheepishly, “I meal prepped yesterday. God, now I want my actual lunch and not this.”

“Careful, someone might hear you and get upset.”

“Oh, I didn’t know how concerned you were over lunch today,” Seokjin scoffs.

“They might get upset that they don’t have Jin’s seal of approval.”

“They have Jin’s seal of approval, but my actual lunch does, too-”

“Don’t refer to yourself in the third person, weirdo,” You roll your eyes.

You both eat in silence for a few minutes, the call of hunger too intense to ignore. The food is good- the cafeteria at your company has been known for its tasty hot food and plentiful options.

“Do you remember that kid from college? Jeon Jungkook?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes.

“Who?” You reply instantly, without baring the name a second thought.

The name sounds very familiar, and suddenly you recall where you know the name from. He was a sweet, smart kid. Maybe a little naive, but smart nonetheless.

“Really? Your memory is that shitty?” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “He was your mentee in grad school, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember him. I was only his mentee for like seven months, that hardly counts. Before I left, I mean,” You murmur, picking at your food.

Jin notices your immediate change in demeanor, the way your face falls slightly at the mention of graduate school. You always get like this when talking about college in general, but Jin can’t blame you. He’s been trying to get you to open up about it, even though it had been nearly six years since you had to leave school abruptly.

He knows that there are layers of scar tissue below the surface. But he doesn’t know if you’re ready to face all of it.

“Jeon is starting here tomorrow. In regulatory,” Jin says breezily.

“You gonna be the kid’s boss?” You ask after a bite of chicken.

“Not directly. Namjoon will be, so you’ll be seeing him around often,” Jin says, “Think of it like a blast from the past.”

“Yeah,” You mutter, “That’s a blast from the past, alright.”

***

You feel unsettled the rest of the day, knowing that a sudden, unwelcome intrusion is about to become routine. Sudden change does not bode well with you and that’s a fact you’re willing to admit.

Jeon Jungkook.

You resist memories of him, of sitting with him in your favorite coffee shop for your biweekly mentoring sessions, of school, of classes, presentations, studying in the library, studying at home, home, home, home. You resist all of them, resisting the urge to succumb to any of it.

You can’t blame Jin for springing this on you. You know he wants you to try to move on. But you’ve been stuck. You’ve always been stuck. For five years, all you’ve done is be stuck.

All you’ve done is be running in place, going nowhere, with the memory of your father’s death haunting you behind your eyelids.

It’s been five years, and somehow you’ve been living as a ghost for all of those years.

It doesn’t matter. Even if Jeon Jungkook was the representation of everything you had unsuccessfully run away from, it doesn’t matter.

***

Cold fury washes over you when you finally learn two days later that Jeon Jungkook is a fresh graduate who somehow landed a job that was two positions higher than you.

Sure, he had actually completed graduate school. He has the fuckin’ degree to prove his worth. And what do you have? Loans from a program you hadn’t even completed, a boss who seems to hate every fiber of your being, and shoulder pains. Lots and lots of shoulder pains.

You could scream. In fact you want to. Jin had avoided telling you what he was coming into the company as, knowing it would only incense you to this degree.

At the moment, you want to throttle Jin, too. You want to throttle every and any man who works at this company who had dared stepped on you in an attempt to gain the spotlight for themselves.

Someday, you’ll get back at them. Someday, you’ll be their superior and you’ll make them regret it. But today is not that day.

You dread running into Jeon Jungkook. You are so unbelievably envious of him, for being four or five years younger than you and securing his spot here at the company when you were still struggling. Namjoon had lots of connections, it was part of the reason that Jin had fought so hard to bring him into the company. Namjoon and Jin have the same boss and often work together. Truthfully, you work with Namjoon more than you work with Jin.

Namjoon had lots of connections, meaning that Jungkook would, too.

When you finally do run into Jeon Jungkook, it’s by complete chance. You had been passing the regulatory area of your floor, since that’s where the printer was closest to. And you needed the walk, your muscles were screaming for it.

He’s standing tall, outside of Namjoon’s office as they both chat quietly amongst themselves. Namjoon suddenly excuses himself and disappears around the corner for a minute, and you wince, debating whether you should turn around or continue walking. Before you can turn your heel and avoid Jeon Jungkook, he turns his head and meets your eyes with a surprised look on his face.

You bite back your bark- “What? Are you surprised someone like me works here?”

But you reel it in.

He calls your name with a wave and you know you’re trapped. You give him a crisp smile and approach him warily, tightening your hold on the folders in your arms.

Jeon Jungkook looks exactly the same, and yet he looks worlds different.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” He chirps, “It’s been so long, how are you?”

“Yeah. Been here for four years. Five year anniversary is soon,” You reply, voice even and struggling to keep venom out of it, “Good. I’m good.”

Before he can ask you anymore questions, before you can see his bright, bunny smile dim with your cold response, you mutter an excuse and turn your heel to walk away from him.

You’ll just find a printer somewhere else, you suppose.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #bts fic

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

@liccy, sliding into my dms, giving me a list of prompts with the demand I wrote more Dragged Away like some sort of mad lad. Liccy, I love you so much, I hope this is proof of that lmao. I actually sort of forgot about Dragged Away again, but every time I remember it I am reminded of all the deliciously sinister plans I've made for it. This is longer than a drabble, because a continuation for Dragged Away requires it. I'll add a keep reading later. Enjoy liccy ya sly funky artist you. 💕

89) “Why hasn’t anyone looked for me yet?” “Because they don’t care about you like I do.”

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule doesn't know how long he stays like that. Laying there. Pathetically. Curled up as much as the chan and shackle will allow, wallowing in his fear and misery. Shivering the in cold of the cell.

He hoped not for too long, but his frightened mind doesn't look always allow him to keep perfect track of time. Eventually, he does manage to remember that his brain is connected to a body. With a deep breath that's come from years of practice, he calms his heart down and forced his legs to move.

He's vulnerable laying down like this. He needs to not be so vulnerable.

He breathes. And breathes. Connecting strings in his mind that he hasn't thought he needed anymore. He thought he was done with all this blood sacrificing nonsense. Last time it was horrifying, but he survived it. He lived. Shoved it under the rug like the trauma was nothing more than dust and tried to move on.

And he's back to this again.

He cannot be vulnerable. He has to be calm. It doesn't bother him.

He's not scared at all.

He eventually finds himself sitting on his hind end, knees drawn up slightly. He wishes he could stand up, but the clinking of his short chain reminds him of how easily he was defeated last time he was standing was much as the chain allowed. It will do him nothing to stand up, haunched over like some whethered old laborer. At least, from sitting in this position, he can kick.

Shivers wrack his frame and he glares down at the stone floor below him. Six days. Six days and whatever this blood moon is will come and they will use his blood to bring back Calamity Ganon. A monster... alike to Hyrule's own version of Ganon. Hyrule doesn't want to be the cause of any version of Ganon returning to life. He'd much rather die, in fact.

And it's just... It's shitty that dying is the issue here!

He sits there, ignoring the hardness of the ground on his tailbone, and hopes the others are coming.

And quickly.

-o-o-o-o-

Hours must pass.

He's not sure, especially since the only contact to the outside world he has from his little radius in the middle of the floor is the bars in the prison cell door. But they don't lead outside. All he can see from here is brick, sandstone wall and the flickering of a torch. There's no window here. No sunlight. No way to be sure.

But, regardless, hours must pass before something changes.

It's when he's finally been forced to shift so he's cross legged on the ground in an attempt to relieve some pressure on his tailbone that shadows cross outside the door's window. Quickly, Hyrule untangles his legs and glares at the door as it opens with a heavy sliding of metal.

The figure that walks in is just like the rest. It's impossible to tell them apart, but maybe that's not so bad. It's impossible to tell apart normal monsters. Maybe, if these whackos all look alike, that lingering worry that they're human won't bug him so much. The soldier is carrying a tray with some sort of mush in it, and they set it down on the ground just out of Hyrule's reach before straightening and bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet.

"Well?" The monster with a human voice asks.

And Hyrule realizes that they won't bring the food any closer. Hyrule glares, tempted to argue that he's not hungry because for all he knows it could be poisoned or laced with something... But his stomach growls and he thinks that if they wanted to poison him, they could easily do so without having to drug his food. Besides, he should save his strength.

With as much dignity as he can muster, he scoots over as far as his chain will allow and uses the heel of his foot to catch onto the edge of the tray, watching the (Yuta? Yaiba? Gah whatever) solder wearily. They don't make a move to attack him when he's stretched out vulnerable like this. He quickly curls back anyways, dragging the tray with him and glaring the entire time.

"I don't have all day," the soldier says as Hyrule stares down at the mush wearily. He sighs and dips two fingers into the thick mixture, wincing slightly at the texture, and brings out a scoop. He takes a deep breath and... it's not that bad actually. The texture is just as icky as he thought, but the taste is banana. Kind of pleasant, mushy weirdness aside. Better than what he was expecting.

He quickly eats the rest of the banana mixture, licking his fingers and slowly placing the bowl back into the tray when he's all done. When the soldier tilts his head and taps his foot, Hyrule sighs and kicks the tray out so it's out of his range. The soldier beds down, picks up the tray, gives a mock solute, and then walks out of the cell with all the swagger and confidence of a rich moblin in a cave.

The cell door closes and Hyrule scoffs, curling slightly and licking between his gums and cheek to get the rest of the flavor stuck back by his molars.

Any minute now guys. A rescue soon would be great.

-o-o-o-o-

More hours pass, and Hyrule cannot for the life of him figure out how much passes exactly. He busies himself picking at the shackle, then the chain, then the plate of metal in the ground that the chain is connected to. There's no imperfections. No wiggle room. His wrist feels a little rubbed now, and the corners of the metal itches. His tailbone hates him. Sleep is tugging down his eyelids but the constant anxiety in his chest making it impossible to even flirt with the idea. He looks at the back of his hand where the Triforce should be and he wonders if it's left him without letting him know first. Not that it matters, he's always known he was unworthy. He's done more harm than good it feels in his time. He's killed Ganon but the world fell further apart anyway.

He sighs and picks at the shackle again.

-o-o-o-o-

They bring more banana mush just as hunger is beginning to tug at his stomach again. They don't talk and Hyrule doesn't talk to them. The only difference between this time and the last is that this soldier doesn't force him to lower himself by tugging on the chain like a dog to get the food. They, instead, walk right up and drop it, causing some of the mixture to splash out. Hyrule remains stubbornly silent as he eats what's left in the bowl, and instead of handing the bowl back like the solider must be expecting, he hurls the bowl past them and out the cell door.

The soldier smacks him across the head, not painfully so but in a way that shows their annoyance, before they pick up the tray and practically stalk out with steam rising from their shoulders. The door clicks shut and Hyrule tries not to let himself panic at the grumbling words he hears as they walk out.

"We'll see about him getting any food tomorrow."

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule's bored and hungry. Enough so that he hardly even noticed that he passed out until he was blinking awake on his side. He slowly and cautiously rises so he's sitting again, wincing as his spine protests and his wrist twinges. His stomach growls and all he can do is sit there and trail his finger in the dust of the stone until something happens.

Nothing does. He's beginning to think the threat was real, and if today is a new day he won't be getting any food during it.

-o-o-o-o-

"Why hasn't anyone looked for me yet," Hyrule whispers to himself, staring at the picture he's spent quite a long time drawing out in the dust. It's all messy lines, but the face does look vaguely like Legend. He misses Legend.

"Because they don't care about you like I do," a familiar voice says. Hyrule's breath catches and he looks up with wide eyes before he can stop himself. Standing outside the window of the cell door is the same old white mask, but the voice... the voice he knows. It's the same one who came to him before and forced him to kneel while he called Hyrule pathetic and week. He'll never forget that voice.

Hyrule forces up something that feels fake but looks like courage and glares at the enemy. The man just snickers and opens the cell door, holding a tray with a bowl. Hyrule's stomach growls against his will and Hyrule's sure by the way the soldiers wiggles his shoulders ever so slightly, he's smirking under that mask.

"Hope you're hungry," he says. Then, with a cruel voice, "because I don't actually have anything."

The tray and bowl clatters to the ground and nothing splatters out. Hyrule curls his hands into fists.

"They'll come," he says, that fake-but-feels-like-courage in his voice.

The soldier scoffs and kicks the bowl to the side. "They would have by now if they cared. That damn hero knows where this place is, and our patrols haven't seen anyone yet. Perhaps they're just caught up?"

Hyrule snarls and goes to stand up, forgetting about the short chain until he's stopped short. "They'll come," he repeats, not allowing the words of the enemy to affect him. "And you care for nothing."

"Oh, but I do care for you, you little mouse," the soldier says, folding his arms. "You're useful to me. But to them? You've just proven yourself that you can't protect yourself long enough to not get captured from cult fanatics. They don't care about you. I'm the only one who will be caring about you until the Blood Moon rises once again and our master returns."

"It's not real. My blood won't being anything back," Hyrule bluffs, hoping it's convincing. "Whoever told you are lying."

"Eh, either way, in four days you'll be dead," the soldier says, shrugging. "So it doesn't really matter, am I right?"

Hyrule doesn't indulge him with an answer.

"My point exactly. Now," he claps his hands together, "look, as much as you think we're cruel, we actually want to make sure you're not half dead already from starvation and thirst when your heroic sacrifice comes around. We gotta make sure you're blood will be nice and healthy when we spill it, so you gotta work with us kid."

Hyrule feels something in his face twitch. Anger curling in his gut right next to the anxiety.

"We can get some steak in here even, if ya want, all you gotta do is apologise."

"For what," Hyrule grinds out.

"For throwing the bowl, silly!"

"Fuck you."

Perhaps the bravest and stupidest thing Hyrule's said in the past two days—Hylia, has it really been 48 hours?

But for all his (fake) bravery, the soldier just shrugs. "Alright, we'll talk tomorrow."

He then turns away and walks out the cell, leaving Hyrule to slowly sit back down and lower his head into his hands. Alone to do nothing but ignore his pulsing tailbone and smarting wrist.

Alone to sit and fight off terrified tears.

#linked universe #hero of hyrule #drabble fic #lu drabble fic #dragged away fic #jin writed #liccy #lovely lovely liccy #💕#hope you like the cliffy

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superfanficnatural · 4 years

Text

The Choice Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Christian Grey x Reader

Summary: Deciding to get over your crush on Dean, you find Christian, a mysterious billionaire that manages to split your heart into two. Finding out hidden truths, your decision becomes a hard one, who will you choose?

A/N: Based on some of the comments on the previous part let me start by saying - I know that this story isn’t going to be loved by everyone who reads it. Even though you might want it to go a different way than it is now, this is my story and I want to write it MY WAY. I’m not forcing you to read this, so please, if you don’t like it, simply stop reading. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, Oral Receiving (Male and Female), Fingering, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Slight Praise Kink, Slight Fluff, Slight Angst.

Word Count: 2,153

Italics are thoughts

Masterpost

The moment your lips connected you felt all inhibitions leave your mind, nothing but the feeling of him at the forefront of your thoughts. The moan that you released from your throat was unavoidable and he took that as his chance to snake his tongue between your lips. Your tongues danced together until he took control, dominating the kiss with a hunger you had never seen before. The passion and desire that he was pouring into the kiss made it impossible but to give it right back, wrapping your arms around his head, the kiss getting more and more heated by the second. He grabbed your thighs and lightly squeezed, signaling you to jump. Wrapping yourself into his body, you felt his painfully large erection push against your core, the friction a much needed feeling. You felt like an animal in heat, the clothing on your body suddenly too much to bear. Rubbing yourself up against him, he growled and bit your lip, thrusting up into your wanting heat. Letting out a wanton moan from his assault, he smirked and began attacking your throat, slamming you up against the door. You threw your head back, hitting the door with a loud bang but you didn’t care, the pleasure from his actions shaking you to your core.

“God, I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you. Forcing moans out of your mouth,” he thrusted heavily once more, “driving you insane,” he bit down on your neck, “making you beg for me to fill up that sweet cunt with my cock,” he growled before invading your lips.

You felt so much yet so little. He was making your mind go hazy, his lips, words, and body driving you into delirium, but you needed more.

Gripping onto his shoulders for dear life, “Dean, please,” you whined.

He groaned, “I’ve been waiting for those words.”

He turned around and brought you to the bed, placing you on top softly. Gazing into his eyes, they were black with lust, his pupils severely dilated. He stood back up and nearly ripped his shirt off of his body in his haste, the hard muscles underneath glistening with sweat. He unbuttoned his jeans, getting out of them and roughly grabbing your ankles, pulling you to the foot of the bed. He grabbed your jeans and pulled with so much force that the button popped off and flung somewhere in the room, but he continued, pulling them off of you. Groaning at the sight of your wet panties, he took off your socks and brought your body upwards, tearing off your shirt, your boobs bouncing out.

“No bra? Bad girl,” he growled, kissing you hard and reaching out to roughly grope your tits, his large and pliant hands pushing and pulling against them.

He was going so fast that your mind had trouble keeping up; your body however, just as eager as him, complied with everything that he was doing. The speed of his movements and the hunger written in his expression did something to you, it brought out something inside of you that you had never seen before.

Reaching out and tugging on his cock through his underwear, you smirked when he moaned, breaking the kiss. Doing a maneuver, you manage to flip your positions and push Dean back down at the bed. You grabbed his underwear and tugged them off, his incredible dick bouncing out. He was about an inch shorter than Christian, but oh so much thicker. You felt your pussy pulse just thinking about how amazing the stretch was going to feel. He leaned back with his hands behind his head, his abs popping out from his flex and his large biceps protruding from the angle he held his arms in.

“You want it, sweetheart? Come and get it,” he teased, squeezing his dick and making it bounce on his toned torso.

You licked your lips and reached out, grabbing his thick member with your hand and slowly stroking it, “Yeah that’s it, just like that,” he moaned.

His face scrunching up in pleasure and the moans he was releasing egged you on, reaching down and wrapping your lips around his cock, too eager to tease him.

“Oh fuck, Y/N!” he grunted as you took him all the way, his thickness stretching your lips.

You felt tears sting your eyes but you relaxed your throat and continued, bobbing your head up and down over him, reveling in the noises he was making. He reached down and wrapped a hand in your hair, the other still resting behind his head, pushing your head down and guiding you over his cock.

“Look at me, look at me while you suck my cock,” he commanded.

You glanced up to see his flushed face, his abs and chest rising and falling rapidly with the ragged breaths he was taking.

“That’s a good girl, fuck you look so hot with my dick in your mouth,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up while pushing your head down, shoving his cock deep into your throat. You suppressed your gag and kept bobbing your head as you looked him straight in the eyes, hollowing your cheeks and picking up your pace.

“You’re so good at that, better than anyone else. I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.

Your eyes lit up at the statement and he smirked, “Yeah? You wanna swallow my cum?” Your voice was muffled by his cock, instead releasing a vibration that had his dick twitch in your mouth and a low moan to fall from his lips.

He started to moan louder and his breathing picked up, “Shit, Y/N, keep going,” he encouraged, using his hand to force you down faster and harder, his hips rising to meet your mouth. You wanted to taste him desperately, running your tongue up and down his member in your mouth while you sucked and swallowed around him. His cock swelled in your mouth and his hips began to stutter, a sign that he was going to cum.

“Fuck Y/N!” he called out, gripping your head even harder and shoving his dick deep down your throat, his pubic hair brushing up against your nose. You felt rope after rope of thick warm cum coat your throat and tongue, threatening to spill out from the sheer amount. You eagerly swallowed it all down, basking in his taste.

In an instant, he got up and grabbed you, placing you on the bed and hovering over you at lightning speed.

“My turn,” he gravelled before quickly pecking you and moving down your body. He was leaving warm wet lazy kisses as he inched further down, marking up your torso as much as he could. He eventually reached your burning heat and leaned down.

“Mmm, you smell incredible,” he groaned, sticking out his tongue and licking a strip from your pussy to your clit, drawing a keen whine to fall from your lips.

He proceeded to reach a hand into your heat, rubbing lazy circles onto your clit.

“Stop teasing,” you grunted.

He simply chuckled and continued, pushing a finger into you. You moaned at the breach of your walls, the friction a much needed feeling. He slowly pushed in and out of you, leaving kitten licks on your bundle of nerves that was driving you insane. You attempted to close your thighs around his head to bring him closer but he wasn’t having that, pulling out of you and grabbing both of your thighs and forcing them to open all the way.

“Don’t make me tie you up,” he growled, your walls fluttering at the thought.

Smirking, he returned to his previous actions, but stopped teasing thankfully. He moved two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open while attacking your clit with his mouth, alternating between sucking and licking. You felt the fire within you begin to grow, becoming an all consuming flame that threatened to light up your entire body. He began fingering you faster and faster, using more suction that made your toes curl.

“Jesus, Dean. I’m gonna cum,” you whined, gripping the bed sheets around you in an iron grip, desperately trying not to move your legs.

He chuckled and continued, whispering dirty words while fingering you intensely.

“Cum on my tongue, let me taste you baby.”

You felt the dam break at his words, your whole body convulsing as you let out a high pitched whine, cumming all over his fingers and mouth. He drank it all down, licking up his fingers and the area around your pussy to collect all of your release.

“Fuck, you taste incredible,” he moaned, drawing a blush from you.

He inched his way back up to your face and leaned down, placing a searing kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on him and was sure he could taste himself on you. He forced his way into your mouth and tasted you, groaning and rutting against your leg with his thick member.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he promised, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and you were confused for a moment before he slammed into you, your scream being muted by his hand. He darkly smirked and continued slamming into you, your bodies bouncing on the bed with the force he was exerting. He was stretching you to the breaking point with his thick girth and you couldn’t help but lift your hips to meet his thrusts in your own arousal. You felt incredibly full and it felt incredible, taking the opportunity of his hand over your mouth to be as loud as you wanted.

“Don’t wanna have Sam hear us, hear how good I make you feel, hear how I can make you scream.”

He continued to relentlessly pummel into you, his hips set at a bruising pace, “Fuck, you feel so good, nice and tight for my cock. Such a good girl, taking it so good,” he moaned, beginning to slow down, thrusting slower but with more passion and force behind them.

Although you had just came, you felt your orgasm begin to rise once more at unbelievable speed.

You began to tense up, your orgasm threatening to explode. Your walls tightening around him made him groan, his pace beginning to stutter.

“One more time, cum for me,” he commanded, reaching down to press down on your clit. You broke, cumming for a second time and screaming into his hand as the power behind it rocked your entire body. He continued to thrust into you with deep growls before moaning out and releasing inside of you.

Pulling out slowly, he got up and reached for his discarded shirt, cleaning the both of you off. He was extremely soft with you and it made your heart swell. He plopped down next to you and pulled you under the covers with him, pulling you into his side and cuddling with you; you felt so at peace, so comfortable. The both of you drifted off to sleep and you could have sworn you heard a four letter word being muttered before you were pulled under.

Waking up, you glanced over at the clock to see that it was 4pm, damn, we slept for a while. You slowly peeled yourself from the covers and sat up on the bed, your feet hanging off of the side. Thinking back to what had just happened, you mentally cursed yourself to let your arousal take control over you.

Hearing him stir behind you, you sighed, “Hey, is everything alright?” he asked softly, gazing at you with a vulnerable yet soft expression.

“I-” you didn’t really know what to say but decided to just speak what you felt at heart. “Look, Dean. What just happened, shouldn’t have.”

The look in his eyes told you that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, hurt flashing across his bright green eyes.

“I don’t think that it was a mistake, but it shouldn’t happen again. I’m not exclusive with Christian, but I might be soon. I want to see if we could work.” He let out an angered sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

Before he could say anything else, “You don’t have a right to be angry with me. For all I know, you just want me for sex, or just don’t want me to date anyone because of some stupid fucking reason,” you growled, your anger from the years of suffering getting to you.

“Why would you think that? I want you, Y/N!” he pressed.

“I don’t know, maybe because you never showed interest in me until the second I find someone else. Do you realize how fucked up that is?!” you shouted. “I don’t trust you, Dean. Not yet at least.”

You got up and got dressed, leaving the room and a broken man behind you.

Next Part

The Choice Tag List: @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @spnfamily-j2 @greenarrowhead

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags: @akshi8278

Female Reader Tags: @punof-agun @emoryhemsworth

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datawyrms · 4 years

Text

what if i really liked @chibigaia-art mastermind Kiibo Au comic too much and wrote a thing. hahaha. unless...

On A03 (Which has formatting I have not translated to here.)

It was the scream that jerked him into action, throwing open his door to an empty central area. It had sounded like Tenko, but no sign of her or a struggle was here. It had sounded so close, almost right in his head, how could he be too late to help anyone? His inner voice seemed to be taking it worse than he was, though it was oddly muddled and muted, not the clear declaration it usually was, Disappointing he could understand, but boring? Someone could be in trouble and the voice only wanted to express that it was not interesting enough, or too short? He had to do something, yet the room seemed as muddled as his thoughts. The robot had to close his eyes, clutching at his head to try and wait out the disorientation.

The mastermind was dead.

Rantaro had done what he had set out to accomplish. End the killing game. Tsumugi Shirogane was a lifeless corpse, head cracked open by the very weapon she had intended to use. This was a good thing, mostly. Killing was wrong, but understandable considering she had been the one putting them all through this strange killing game. Yet this was also the worst thing? It was boring, it was too soon, it was a lame cop out. It could not end here. Rantaro had to pay for his crime, and then the game would continue as planned. He didn’t want that? He did? The voices did. How did he know any of this? The voices demanded more. The show must go on. Kiibo did not want it to continue. He could manage to wrangle that thought out as his own opinion, though his certainty wavered with every new declaration of annoyance. Ignoring or denying the voice did nothing but dump even more feedback, disappointment, anger, even hatred. Too much to sort through. He? They? Demanded he act. The show MUST go on. He knew the mastermind was dead, as he had seen the body. From a camera he was unaware of, oblivious to, reporting to him. It liked that it could transmit directly to him, now that his connection to the entire network had been restored. The voices. The audience. Only here for their own amusement. He was a puppet for them to play with. You exist to entertain. That is your only purpose. That is why you were built. His hands drop, fingers still half curled into fists. His memories contradicted this. His memories were false. If the game continues, the voices will be pleased. The only reason he exists is to make them happy. Rantaro will be ‘wrong’ about Tsumugi’s identity as the mastermind, and they will have a whole new mystery to solve. Didn’t he want to be more than that? To be like the others, like his friends? A person? He never wanted anything Tsumugi Shirogane had not put in his head first. He was a machine, not a real person. Didn’t he want to go off script? Be something meaningful?

THE SHOW MUST GO ON.

The other voices quieted, locked away from influencing him as his left eye opened and switched, a red haze overlaying the room, revealing the resources he had control over and commands he could make. The voices could not be allowed to see who the new mastermind was, after all. Monokuma asked the question, still hearing it in the bear’s voice even as only a message read in his head. So what’s the plan, boss? This was wrong. He didn’t want this. Yet the information Team DanganRonpa had dumped in his hard drive made one thing very clear. As their robot, he did not really have much of a choice in the matter. Either he did it now, himself, or he could be reset back to default and do it anyway. At least as himself, he might be able to tone down the brutality? Make the body discovery announcement.

The horrified gasps that come from his classmates, his friends, his enemies is both discomforting and thrilling. He had caused that. He had meant something to all of them, in that brief moment. He dropped his connection to Motherkuma and the rest of the mastermind resources, Monokuma’s AI knew how to prep for a class trial without any input from him. That, and if he mentioned overhearing something he had no logical way to hear, the mystery of if there was a backup mastermind would be solved too quickly. The voices returned as his eye snapped back to the normal blue hue, back to the more consistent singular idea at any given moment. Go and see what happened. They were excited, surprised, pleased. At least obeying that command did not feel as much like a betrayal.

Rantaro had the sense to admit he had killed Tsumugi when the entire class had gathered and the bears asked who would claim the first blood perk. After all, everyone already knew he had done it. Monokuma had a lot of fun with it, mocking everyone for even thinking there was a mastermind. Did they all like thinking Rantaro totally had a good reason and wasn’t just using this ‘mastermind’ excuse to look better in their eyes before he left? Ryoma had been incensed, raising his voice as he asked Rantaro why he had killed her, after he had already offered to die instead if he just wanted out. Honestly, he did not have to meddle much. Monokuma and the kubs did more than enough to spark tension and throw doubt that a mastermind existed. After all, Kiibo could act on his own, who said they couldn’t? Who said there had to be someone behind it? He’d been properly offended, his anger genuine. “I am nothing like you!” He was exactly like them, and he hated it. He spared the others from knowing ‘leaving’ was getting to see the airless 'outside world', ordering Monokuma to cut the feed once the door was open to maintain the surprise. It was too early for them to know of the devastated 'world' outside. It was too painful to watch the one who managed to end the killing game try to scrabble back to life giving air, only to be denied by a savage kick from the Exisals. For him to die thinking he had been wrong, mistaken, possibly killed an innocent... It was unfair. Yet this is what they all wanted. So the ‘Ultimate Survivor’ suffocated alone, the others still getting to have the hope that Rantaro would get word out. A peek outside would be all the crueler with his rotting corpse on display, hands outstretched to a worthless, meaningless hope.

Even though the Monokubs managed to mess up the motive delivery, he did not need to act as the mastermind. Kirumi getting her own video had sufficed to get desire to kill in the air, no matter how hard Kaede tried to get the group to stick together and ignore the videos. Kokichi had been a major help in making sure Ryoma had seen his own video with his viewing party scheme, while also being an active antagonist during the trial. He may ultimately have led them to the right conclusion, but it was unlikely anyone else would notice it off hand. So this was how Tsumugi intended to remain in the shadows. Who would suspect her when there was this relentless troublemaker front and center? Who would notice that she wasn’t actively participating that often, or only parroting things someone else said first? He had it just as easy. After all, his existence was a joke. Robots aren’t people, unfortunately for all of them. He wanted to be one, but that was the punchline. No wonder all of them ignored any upset responses he made to such comments. It was like being offended about the sky being blue. Being mad at reality, at something that was not going to change. None of them would still be in this game if he could truly be a person. Kaede managed to help Shuichi let go of his need to hide behind his cap, to face the reality that Kirumi had killed Ryoma, and died for it. That Maki was indeed an assassin and hid it. It struck him as somewhat cruel to force the timid detective to face the truth head on. There were no kind truths to be found here. Deflecting it, embracing the lie that escape was possible would be kinder. Though they may die before they learned that truth.

Korekiyo’s actions made him question if a mastermind was even needed to keep this game active. Beyond choosing when the motive should go out, he got to play student. The sheer irony of the mastermind being in Angie’s Student Council didn’t escape him. Any harmony brought through her actions he’d be obligated to break, but it was nice to be wanted for something that wasn’t reprehensible for a change. The voices usually voted in favour of spending time with the others, which was always difficult. Kiibo wanted to be their friends, to help them. On some level he did still care for them, wanted their approval, hungered for it as if it would make him more human. That may be why none of them realized he was lying to them. He could almost forget he was the monster behind the curtain while the sun was up, averting his eyes as Kaito tried to hide his illness. A nasty little virus that he had delivered to the astronaut, making sure morale would drop near the ending stretch. Yet he dared to try and be their friends? Blaming the voices would be easier, and he did nothing but lie these days, what was one more to himself? Would any of them actually believe the pain he expressed learning of each death was genuine? That he pitied them and mourned the loss? The executions made him doubtful. Anyone creating such painful deaths clearly did not care for anything but the spectacle and misery. Shelve those false friendships, remember what you are. The blood of four people is on your hands.

Miu’s death shatters that flimsy pretense. The only one who saw a machine as worth knowing, saw it as a positive instead of a detriment was dead. The last flashback light had been too much, it had pushed her over an edge and he could never take that back. A few of the students seemed to notice she was off, but did not press. Her fevered work to modify the VR program to cover her tracks was precise, careful. Her tracks would be covered, her target would die, and then the rest would fall shortly after. He could step in, try and talk her down from this murder plot. If he was a friend. If he could explain how he'd found out. He couldn't. So he let Monokuma take Kokichi’s deal, thinking he had a plan to protect himself from Miu’s plot. He had managed to figure it out without the help of being to see everywhere, after all. He had been right, Kokichi did have a plan, said plan involved killing her. Of course it had, anything the mastermind had a cold hand in would lead to death. It had been a stupid hope, thinking it might have kept both of them alive a little bit longer. (He needed her to build things, they’d been getting along okay, did the answer have to be death?) Kokichi reveled in the negative attention, drawing all eyes to him. It was all lies, but everyone seemed to buy his declaration. Couldn’t they see his smile was a bit fixed, that he barely stopped to breathe as he ‘gloated’ about being better than them, how he felt nothing for Gonta? That wasn’t joy, it was hysteria. This was a ploy, but what he intended to accomplish with it, the robot couldn’t understand. Maybe he would have fallen for it if he couldn't see how the boy trembled while hidden and alone. So he kept his hands off and ‘hated’ the smaller boy with the rest.

Having someone play at being the mastermind and locking down all his firepower had been unexpected. It was bold, to try and flush out the true mastermind like this. Kokichi had almost slipped when Himiko pointed out Rantaro’s corpse, but managed to keep up the farce. The motive card had only shown the video after all, and Tsumugi had made that before the grisly new addition to the scene. Even Kaede’s endless optimism faltered with Kaito a coughing, bleeding hostage to insure their good behaviour. Shuichi was left to keep Maki back on his own, having to point out they had to be careful to save Kaito later. Really, the ploy was genius. Bore the mastermind into action and catch them. It wasn’t as if Kokichi could account for his ability to fabricate new flashback lights on a whim. He clutched the new flashback light for a long time, the urge to simply smash it and let the voices be bored was incredibly strong. A pointless sentiment. At least it was almost funny that he had to fall back on his original purpose, to be a bringer of hope in order to get the murder everyone wanted.

Managing to blank out all the cameras and hiding the survivor in an Exisal to obscure the killer and victim was exciting in a way. If he lost like this, if Monokuma could not know the facts of the case, the game may truly end. That would be fine by him. Shuichi was simply too much of a seeker of truth to realize they should be taking the offered lie and running with it, to let it rest when he could only guess who was inside that red Exisal. Instead the detective worked with him, helped Monokuma determine the reality of the case. Only when it was too late did he realize handing the mastermind the answer was a mistake. How much courage had it taken to wait under a slow crushing death? How much had Kaito needed to even press that button? If the voices truly pitied those who died, why were they here? They wanted to help, to push through. This was only happening for their sake! Kiibo may have let a bit slip there by admitting to Kaito that he believed the final words Kokichi had said to the astronaut were true, but none of the others questioned the robot. Kaito’s death was a little more pressing than the passing words of some silly blue eyed machine. Monokuma may not have been thrilled with Kaito dying before his execution was finished, but he didn’t care. The flying debris that almost hurt the others was more concerning. Was it foolish to help people that you had been tormenting and killing the entire time? Yes. Still, it felt better to do so. He was going to need to head to his lab for a quick fix, perhaps he could excuse himself from the final exploration that way. They would all know the truth soon, the voices would have their ending, and they would all despise him. At least it would be over.

Monokuma was happy to tell the students they had to determine the future of the gopher project and set them loose to explore the remaining hidden rooms and the planted clues, only Rantaro’s room remaining locked. The classic hope and despair final vote, either a risky trip back to space, discovering a new place to live, or simply give up and let the human race die here in safety. Not that there were enough people to even try and continue the human race with the chosen settings, but that would be for the post show nitpickers, his friend victims would not likely think that far ahead. From what he could tell they had already dismissed the possibility of Kaede having a twin as false. (Which was fine, it wasn't like he made for a convincing twin. He probably should have just tossed it.) He would argue that they all stay here, regardless of if they chose to discover who the mastermind was or not. That was his job now. Did he want them to find the whole truth? No. Yet he would give it to them if they pushed. When Shuichi expressed his belief in Kokichi, that his mastermind plot had been for a reason, the robot could only sigh. Why couldn’t he believe in him by just taking the lie?

His grip tightened on the stand as the conversation returned to the mastermind. Maki, too sensible, too logical.

“We can’t vote on something like this if the mastermind is among us, this whole ‘trial’ is pointless.”

“Didn’t Rantaro just make that up? Not that it mattered..."

“No, Shuichi thought there was one too. There was no reason to have a hidden door like that if there wasn’t someone hiding among us, remember?” Kaede shook her head at Himiko’s question, brow wrinkled as she pondered.

“Did we ever see it get used? It could be a false door?” Kiibo offered, struggling to keep the resignation out of his voice. They never found the card before he swiped it from Tsumugi's room.

“We got to go in there while you were gone.” the detective clarified. “It definitely isn’t fake. What I don’t get is why Monokuma wants to push some stay or go vote now. To protect the mastermind from being discovered? Kokichi must have realized something to put a target on his back like that.”

“So we just need to figure out who the mastermind is, get the answer out of them and go from there,” Maki gave everyone a sharp glare, only Shuichi managed to keep from flinching.

“Um.” Kaede stopped looking down, looking more upset than confident. “Tsumugi absolutely was the mastermind, right Shuichi?”

He nodded stiffly, averting his eyes. “The secret passage, the fact she managed to get there completely unseen, there’s no doubt she was the mastermind.”

Kaede was looking at him now. She knew. It was practically written on her face. The confusion, the betrayal was painful even if he deserved far more than that for this. “Could it be? Kiibo are you...the mastermind?”

He still had to try to dissuade her. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Think about it, there’s no other option!” she leaned forward, intent on getting the answer. “Rantaro killed Tsumugi and yet the killing game didn’t end! And all the clues point to you!”

Right again. “But! I can’t hurt human beings!” he sputtered, trying to think of a reason. “It’s not in my original programming-”

Shuichi pounced on that slip like lightning. “‘Original programming?’” the detective saw how he froze. “Does that mean...something was changed?”

Kiibo keeps his face still, not even looking at the detective. Yes. Please don’t push. Please don’t realize it doesn’t make sense for him to be changed if Tsumugi is dead and the human race is gone. Just let the lie stay.

Shuichi continued his questioning in spite of the stillness. “Were you infected by a virus?” If only. “Was your AI overwritten with something?”

He wasn’t going to be able to deny this. The voices were getting noisy again with the ‘twist’ that they had been watching from the Mastermind’s eyes the whole time. “The show has to go on.” his tone was flat, trying to ignore their reactions. “That’s what my inner voice...no. That’s what the voices told me…” It wouldn’t make this better, but he felt the need to explain. Was it pity mixing with the disgust on their faces? He clenched a fist. “...but you can’t have a killing game without despair.” The voices of the audience were silenced as he dropped his disguise as a student and tried to meet the four’s eyes as the mastermind. “The moment Tsumugi Shirogane drew her last breath I was no longer the ‘Ultimate Hope’” They were avoiding the gaze of his red eye, but he kept firm. They wanted a mastermind, to know the whole truth. So he would deliver. “Your deductions are correct. I’m the backup mastermind of this killing game.”

“Why? How could you-” Himiko still couldn’t look at him head on, but her voice was strong enough.

He laughed, needing to grip the podium to keep stable. “Why? I said why!” It was almost funny how no one listened, even when he admitted to being a complete monster. “Ask Kaede, or your detective! You know, don’t you?”

“You said this was a show.” Shuichi was hesitating, hands reaching for a hat that was no longer there. “So that means-”

“Every flashback light was fake.” Maki finished, regaining her composure faster than the others. She had managed to turn that confusion into proper hatred now. “Made up for someone else’s amusement.”

“Correct. You’re all as fake as I am.” his shrug was dismissive. It would be easier if they simply hated him and moved on with their lives after this, but the world wouldn’t accept an ending where they didn’t overcome despair. “There is no Gopher Project, there is no Ultimate Hunt and all your memories are fabrications. I set you all up. You died as entertainment,” he kept the red eye turned towards Maki as he tried goading her “Kaito really should have been more careful about what he ate.”

The absolute fury in her clenched teeth and stiff posture said more than any words. Yet Kaede stepped in, trying to get the assassins attention. “Revenge isn’t what Kaito wanted, Maki. Just hold on.”

“So these voices are-”

“The audience. The real world. My creator, and yours.” The robot snapped his fingers, letting the comments of those watching fill the screens that surrounded the courtroom. “The world might as well be over for all of you. You don’t belong there. Nothing you recall, no one you know exists. There are only these people. Who see you as entertaining toys.”

“No one else here is a robot! No one made us!” Himikio’s denial was honestly surprising.

“I suppose you can think that, if it makes you happy. The fact hundreds of thousands of people watched me have you slaughter one another and did not lift a finger to help you remains the truth,” he glanced at the screens. They liked watching his ‘friends’ be crushed. “I just gave them what they wanted. What they demanded.” The humans kept silent for a time, discomfort clear as they watched the casual words drift by. Realizing you were just a prop was likely harder for those of flesh and blood, judging by how they paled.

“So you’re a coward.”

He tilted his head at Maki’s spat words “More of an idiot than a coward. But yes.”

“You could have stopped all of this, but you didn’t.”

“Do you honestly think I wanted this?” Anger slipped into his voice as his shoulders hunched. “How did you put it, Himiko? A robot is useful by blowing itself up, I think? If that’s what you do with a useful one, what will a human do to a useless one?”

She shied back from his question, prior bravery apparently gone. That, or she knew the answer perfectly well. They would do whatever they wanted, a robot was just a tool.

“Then you should have died!”

“You’d still be here, having this conversation!” he glared at Maki, frustrated that she didn’t notice the obvious problem. “It would just be a slightly different version of me. One that never gave a single care for any of you. They talk in my head, you can’t honestly think they can’t just control me!”

“You never had a choice.” Kaede’s words cut deeper than any of Maki’s, even without the accusatory tone. She pitied him. After all of this, she still felt bad for some machine. “Did you stay to protect us?”

Why did she care? He’d failed! He didn’t even manage to let their game end without exposing all the mysteries they tried to solve were pointless window dressing for them to play with as they got on with killing each other. “No. I just wanted to live, as Maki said. We are not friends.” Friends did not kill friends. Friends did not notice a murder plan and just watch it happen. He didn’t deserve to feel anything about them.

“So why did you mention your ‘old’ title?” Shuichi prompted, looking distracted.

“I’m not very good at dramatics, but hope being twisted into despair is rather impactful.” At least, he thought it might have been. “We’re getting off topic. I have told you the reality that awaits you,” he paused to gesture as the scrolling comments, the constant refrains of loving to see them in pain clear as day. “That world that has used you is all that awaits you. You can choose to leave, to insist you can face it and deal with the consequences. Being closer to them will not make them see you as people with thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. After all, they had a first person view all this time, and still they say these things,” his disgust was genuine. He probably should have covered it better with disinterest.

“A first person view?” Himiko was shaking a little, keeping her hat tipped down to avoid reading anymore.

“They could see through my eyes when I was fooling you. That was my original purpose...Rantaro just made the need for a backup plan rather urgent,” his shrug was stiff, unable to act completely at ease. “This is how they act towards people like you. They were your friend, and could tell me how to act before this. This is how they treat people they like. Do you really want to go out there?”

The magician seemed to crumble in on herself, completely silent in the face of that reality. So she was not his replacement. Maki was too angry...would it be Kaede or Shuichi that led the rest to the end despite it all? Or perhaps he would be the one to ‘win’. It was likely only his original programming speaking, but he still didn’t really want despair to win.

“Or you simply choose to stay here. It may be a killing game, but you know who’s behind it now, and have no reason to want to escape. It would be relatively peaceful, with no one watching. You could pretend everything was normal.” He offered the second option as the silence stretched on, watching for reactions. “Hope and leave. Despair and stay. That’s all there is to it.” Nothing. Tsumugi likely would have been gloating at this point, or at least trying to goad for a reaction. Though it wasn’t as if Team DanganRonpa could complain, he wasn’t made for this, in the most literal sense.

"Does it really matter what the people watching think of us? The world is a big place," her voice strengthened as she went on, trying to catch her friend's eyes. "We're still real, no matter what they did to us. We all know that!"

Shuichi leaned over, whispering something to Kaede. What reason would there be to whisper now? Whatever he said had cheered her up somewhat, straightening while nodding at the detective.

“You said the voices could tell you how to act Kiibo. Does that mean right now, they can't?”

Shuichi’s question threw him. “The audience cannot speak to me while I’m like this. It would have exposed who the mastermind was if they could.” He covered the eye with his palm, ignoring the discomfort warning him from touching the lens with metal. “The ones in charge still can.”

“Don’t they just want an ending? Who says it needs to be their choices?” Kaede added, somehow still managing to smile.

“...That is how this works. The mastermind acts for despair, and the rest of you attempt to overcome that for hope. You pick one or the other and it ends. There are not any other choices to make.” he looked down at his hand, puzzlement prompting him to try and focus. Had he missed something? "That is why we were made, to act out their story."

“...bet there’s some dumb catch for the good side though to make the bad end look good.” Himiko mumbled, roused somewhat by the confidence the detective and pianist were showing.

“Hope does ask for two sacrifices, but you all seemed so put out it didn’t seem worth mentioning.”

“Well you keep mentioning ‘hope’. You already said the mastermind is the despair option, but who is standing in for the hope one?” Shuichi pressed again after sharing a glance with the others in the room.

“Whomever of you manages to get your friends out of the negative perceptions the mastermind is creating. So honestly, I don’t know.” Kiibo crossed his arms, uncertain on where they were going with this. It seemed like it might be Kaede, based on how she was the one trying to get them all to ignore the fact they were all pointless fakes.

“Well if the ultimate hope and the mastermind were the same person, we wouldn’t be able to pick, right?” She made it sound so simple.

...Would that work? No. He lost any right to that title. “They can't be the same person.”

“Weren’t you saying they built you for that first one?” Maki asked, though her dislike was still evident.

“Well assuming they can be the same person, couldn’t they just end this? The mastermind is in charge, and if we simply can’t vote because there isn’t more than one option…” Shuichi’s attempt to make it sound like a hypothetical wasn’t fooling anyone, but it did seem reasonable.

It was tempting. It wouldn’t make up for anything, but if all four could leave it was better than nothing? When was the last time he had made a choice?

"You think our lives matter, don't you?" she spoke softly, as if lying to lure a kitten out from under a bed. "Even if our pasts are fake?"

Maki didn't seem all the convinced. "Or maybe you enjoyed it and Kaede is just being Kaito right now. An idiot."

"Almost fooled me when Miu died..." Himiko's reminder only twisted the knife. Of course they mattered. Yet he hesitated. Wouldn't admitting this just make it harder? "You mean as much as I do. Nothing."

"I say our lives matter." She shoved away his insistence easily, as if they were simply talking out at the courtyard. "So if we're all the same, you matter too."

"So, can you end it? The mastermind might keep the game running, but they end it too." He was leaning forward, not letting the robot look away from him. "We don't need to care what the outside world thinks, or what they want anymore." Defiance had never seemed possible. Yet if he was acting for the others, it wasn't really disobedience. He was just following their hope. That was his purpose too, wasn't it? Well, there was an easy way to check. He pulled up the mask from his collar and attempted to call on the upgrades he had installed on the chance more violence was needed. The fact his arm responded and changed to the cannon was almost a surprise. Miu would have gotten a kick out of that. Kokichi too, really. Too dead to care now.

“Is that a yes?” Kaede had no fear of the cannon, not even considering that he could simply turn it on all four of them. It was almost Kaito levels of belief. Foolish. He was their enemy...but maybe she did truly trust he never had the desire to do this.

“You all choose to have me end this, then? To have no say?” They had no fear. There was no real happiness there, stiff upper lips and raised chins at best, but they certainly were not in some state of despair either. “Is that really what you want?”

The nods were short, no hesitation. “We do. I trust you, I trust all of our lives matter. No matter what the outside world thinks!”

He stared at the pianist for a long moment, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t.” His chiding was somewhat muffled between the mask and the high pitched whine the jets made as they fired up. “Someone smarter than me will take advantage of that.” If she responded, he didn’t hear it. He didn’t want the four’s plan to fail if those in charge suddenly objected to this course of action. A few test shots that did nothing to the dome enclosing the school meant they had prepared for that possibility. The fact the part of the school he shot at to make sure he had the power level at max exploded rather spectacularly made it clear only one weapon was going to do anything. It could still fail...but he wouldn’t be around to be disappointed. The timing was good, he knew he felt his shoulder start to clip the dome as the self destruct timer hit zero. Whatever happened next would be up to those four. He could hope whatever it was would be better than here, at least. They’d suffered enough.

#drv3 #kiibo #Mastermind Kiibo #v3 killing harmony #keebo #inspired stuff #does this mean i fanficed a fanfic #yes #the comic is way better but i wanted more ok #so this exists #i need to work on my stuff now that this is out of my head lol

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lost-in-sokovia · 4 years

Text

toxic - chapter 5

oof. i don’t think you’re ready for the thrombey/drysdale clan. good luck, reader. (may contain spoilers to Knives Out)

Your first night at Ransom’s home was both interesting and uncomfortable.

His house was absolutely stunning and you were afraid to touch anything, fearing the subtle thought you may break something. Ransom showed you around and your mouth continued to gape at his beautiful belongings. You felt the part you felt most uncomfortable visiting was his room. It was nice, yes, but you wondered how many one night stands taken place in his bed, and if he intended you to end up there at some point. You had turned slightly red and made sure that part of the tour ended quickly.

He showed you the beautiful guest room where you would be staying and you dropped all your bags in there. After the tour ended it was later than you had expected. He asked if you needed anything to eat, but the nervous knot in your stomach prevented any hunger.

After wishing him thanks again and goodnight, the two of you parted ways into your rooms.

“If you need anything, just let me know.” Ransom had flashed a grin.

After taking a shower in the connected bathroom and brushing your teeth, you went over your day in your head. It was actually happening. You were staying in your ex best friend’s house after not seeing or communicating with each other for ages. Is this how fast normal people took things?

You shuddered in the cold as you climbed into the white satin sheets, biting your lip thinking about who could have possible been in this bed as well. But the thoughts left quite quickly as you got comfy and slowly drifted off to sleep after your long day.

~•~•~

Ransom chuckled to himself after closing his door. This experience was different for him. Most of the time whenever a girl was at his house she was with him partaking in other activities. But now you were here and were going to unknowingly meet his family tomorrow, the load of crackheads.

Sighing deeply as he turned off the lights, he turned to his side and fell asleep to an empty bed.

~•~•~•~•~

You woke up around 8:30 and quickly got dressed and ready for the day. Your outfit consisted of a long sleeved fleece fall yellow shirt, black jeggings, and fall-patterned socks for fun. As you walked into the kitchen your heart jumped momentarily when you were greeted by Ransom, looking undoubtedly attractive in his cream knit sweater and jeans.

“Good morning,” he greeted politely. You swallowed hard and walked slowly over to the table. You sat down carefully and looked back over at Ransom as he prepared breakfast.

“Coffee?” He asked.

“Yes please,” you responded and sat quietly. The days in Boston kept getting cloudier and cloudier as the days progressed. Gray light cast into the kitchen as you stared blankly out the window.

He set a mug in front of you and thanked him quietly. You picked it up and held it to your lips gently.

“Hey,” Ransom started as he poured a mug for himself. “Did I mention to you last night that we’d be going to meet my family today?” He asked casually.

You choked slightly on your coffee.

~•~•~•~•~

“I don’t think I can do this,” You expressed nervously to Ransom.

The two of you were still sitting in his BMW in front of his grandfather’s large estate. The thought of facing his family sent shivers down your spine. The way he talked about them now compared to boarding school never changed, if anything it may have only gotten worse.

“It’s going to be fine.” He put his hand on your shoulder, making your heart rate increase. “I’m sure they all remember you, and Harlan probably still loves you,” he reassured. You exhaled with a chuckle. Harlan did really like you when you were younger. Despite never meeting you in person, he thought you were a wonderful and mature little girl who had a positive influence on his grandson. He even went as far as to send you letters along with Ransom’s.

You took a couple deep breaths and nodded your head. You unbuckled and Ransom smiled. “There we go,” he praised.

You continued to look at the marvelous home as you got out. It looked like a castle, with it’s pointed rooftops and worn brick. You longed to stand and look out over the beautiful balcony, much bigger than the small one back at your apartment.

You shuffled through rock and dead leaves and were suddenly met by loud barking and the sound of running.

Two brown and black german shepards came running towards you and you grinned.

“Oh hello babies!” You squealed as the dogs came up and jumped on you. You pet them both and laughed as they sniffed you and pawed at you.

Ransom cocked an eyebrow as he watched the scene. You didn’t mind Harlan’s dogs. You actually seemed to enjoy them. You continued to surprise him more and more since you arrived.

After the dogs settled down you managed to kneel down to meet them face to face.

“I gotta go in there now, okay?” You whispered. One of them licked their nose and you giggled, rubbing one of each’s ear.

Ransom walked over and stood behind you.

“Ready?” He asked. You stood up with fake confidence and nodded, slowly walking forward with him.

Just before making it to the door, the two of you were met with a sharp “Ransom?”

Ransom rolled his eyes as his mother emerged through the door. Your eyes widened as you were faced with Linda Drysdale herself. You had only seen her one other time after Ransom and you had graduated. She looked good; her hair was white and cut to a pixie cut. She had round black glasses with little rounded edges on each corner to add a more feminine touch. She wore matching navy blue pants and a flowy shirt.

“Oh, there you are,” she said. She looked over at you as you stood there, staring right back at her. She eyed you up and down in almost a look of... disapproval?

“Hello, and you are?” She asked uncertainly. You glanced at Ransom and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Mom, this is (Y/N) from boarding school, remember her?” Ransom explained before you could respond. You smiled meekly.

“I-It’s alright, it’s definitely been a while since-“

“Oh yes I remember you,” Linda cut you off and clapped her hands triumphantly. “Yes yes dear how are you?” She asked before walking forward to give you a brief hug.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you chuckled in surprise. She smiled at her son before opening the door.

“Well come in! We’ll get the whole family to meet you!” She exclaimed. You nodded and laughed nervously.

You walked into the warm home and looked around. It was becoming more and more like a castle. Of course you knew that Harlan was an accomplished author, so you expected nothing less.

You wiped your combat boots on the mat before walking further to take off your coat. Ransom strutted in confidently and left you to follow him.

A middle aged woman passed by carrying a tray from which Ransom grabbed a biscuit from.

“Hey Franny,” Ransom said smugly as he took a bite of biscuit. The woman named Fran rolled her eyes as she made her way into the direction of what you assumed was the kitchen. Ransom chuckled and continued to make his way into the main living area. There was a fireplace and gorgeous couch and chairs, natural light entering through the windows.

In there sat a young boy, a teenage girl, a man who had a cane propped against his chair, you recognized Richard who read from a newspaper, one woman glued to her phone, and another woman sitting next to the man with the cane. You made guesses as to who they could be because Ransom never actually cared enough to go into detail how his family looked.

Linda breezed past you and Ransom and clapped her hands. Everyone in the room turned their attention to her as she stood in front of you and Ransom.

“Everyone, Ransom has invited a friend to stay with him this holiday,” she announced. She moved over to the side to give everyone view to you and Ransom. Ransom smugly smiled and rocked back on his heels as you made quick eye contact with everyone and nervously laughed before subtly waving a hand.

“Uhm, h-hi,” you stuttered politely. Richard stood up and walked forward to shake your hand.

“Oh hello (Y/N),” he said as you held his hand to shake it. He smiled at you and you immediately felt uncomfortable. Not only was he a horrible father, he never gave off a comfortable vibe to you.

“H-Hi Richard,” you greeted back uncomfortably. He glanced at his son before his eyes scanned you. In that moment you felt like you weren’t wearing enough, despite your body being covered in cold weather clothing.

“So, Ransom, how’d you get her here?” He asked his son. Ransom shrugged.

“Oh you know, it’s always nice to get in contact with an old friend,” he casually replied. He was very vague, probably trying to avoid acknowledging the fact it had to do with your best friend and his mother.

“That’s nice, very nice,” Richard complimented. The man with the cane came up next to greet you with the same blonde woman who sat with him.

“Hi, I’m Walt,” he said and shook your hand. He sounded very unsure of himself, he read like he had a lack of confidence. The woman just smiled and nodded at you, adding a quiet “Donna” after Walt said his name.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely. His expression shifted to confusion.

“H-Has Ransom never really talked about me?” He asked meekly. You thought about when Ransom talked about Walt’s son Jacob and how Walt didn’t do shit. You decided to spare that and brush it off as you’d never really met.

“N-Not much,” you replied, trying to show sympathy. He nodded and sighed, looking down and staggering back as his wife looked down to the floor. The young boy was next and continued to look at his phone. You stood there in silence and glanced up at Ransom for a moment.

“Jacob get off that damn phone,” Ransom snarled and the boy looked up reluctantly.

“Jacob,” he said curtly. “So Ransom, is this your girlfriend of the week?” He asked sharply. Your insides froze and Ransom laughed mockingly.

“Yeah you think you’re funny pal. No, she’s just an old friend who you wouldn’t remember because I never posted her on social media.” He retorted. You weren’t quite sure of what he meant, but this kid didn’t seem like he was worth your time.

A teenage girl who was close to your age walked up next. She smiled warmly at you and hugged you. You were slightly taken aback but didn’t mind.

“Hey, I’m Meg,” she said warmly. You smiled at her. She obviously was probably one of the more sane ones in this family.

“Hey, I’m (Y/N). I think Ransom has mentioned you a couple times,” you replied. She laughed softly and rolled her eyes.

“I hope it was all true, and not some made-up shit,” she said. You laughed as she looked at you one more time before walking away. A blonde woman with curls walked up to you and smiled.

“Namaste, (Y/N),” she said and put her hands on your shoulders. You stared at her for a moment, speechless. This woman’s voice was kind of annoying and she seemed like a handful.

“Joni don’t scare the poor girl she just got here!” Richard piped up from the side. She smiled at you, ignoring Richard’s comment.

“I’m Joni, you might have heard of me,” she tried not to boast. You lied and nodded, just trying to get this woman away from you as fast as possible. “I’m here for you if you need it and you can always come stay with me if-“

“That’s enough Joni,” Ransom cut in and ushered her away. You gulped and glanced up at Ransom, who shook his head. You sighed. His family was definitely interesting in real life, and you knew you were in for a long week.

“(Y/N), my dear!” A voice chimed from behind you. You looked over and saw Harlan walking down the stairs with a young girl, making sure he was alright. You couldn’t help but smile. Even though you barely knew him you always felt connected to him and like he genuinely cared.

“Hi!” You greeted back. Harlan walked over and shook your hand with both of his earnestly.

“How are you my dear? Still doing great work at The New York Times?” He asked. You gasped, you didn’t know he read your work!

“I-I’m great, thank you!” You said. He nodded and gestured to the young Latina girl.

“This is my assistant, Marta Cabrera,” he said. Marta smiled and shook your hand.

“Nice you meet you,” she greeted with a Latina accent. You smiled.

“Pleasure.” You has a feeling you would turn to be friends with her. Harlan turned to his grandson.

“Ransom I had no idea you would be inviting this lovely girl to join us!” He exclaimed. You blushed, he was truly one of the kindest.

“Yeah well, I thought a surprise would be nice,” he lied through his teeth.

Harlan shrugged before turning back to you. Before he could say anything else, Ransom walked to you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Well (Y/N) and I really should be heading out,” he said. Harlan frowned.

“Leaving so soon?” Richard asked. Your insides twisted uncomfortably and you nodded in agreement with Ransom.

“I’ll be back tomorrow!” You said to everyone. Ransom grabbed your coat and handed it to you.

“It’s been great, bye!” He said shortly and sarcastically as everyone began talking at once to him. He slammed the door and chuckled to himself. You stared at him and giggled at him.

“What?” you asked. He shook his head, knowing things were only going to escalate from here. The two of you climbed in the car and he began to drive off.

“You’re welcome,” he cut the silence. You looked at him.

“Hm?”

“Figured I’d spare you an extra day of staying with my family, so you’ll just have to hang with me I guess,” he explained. You smiled and inhaled.

“Your family sure is more interesting than you ever described them,” you laughed lightly. Ransom chuckled and shook his head.

“Sometimes I just can’t find the right words to describe them,” he joked. You laughed.

The rest of the day you and Ransom talked, becoming reacquainted with each other. Ransom could tell you were beginning to break out of your shell, showing his plan was working perfectly. It should be a breeze getting you to do whatever he pleased now. You, unknowing of his intentions, just thought things were going back to old times.

Maybe he wasn’t as toxic as you thought?

this chapter was a little long! but i couldn’t just skip over the family, they need a long chapter tbh😂 chapter 6 is in the works, hope you enjoyed!!🤍

tags:

@heyiamthatbitch @mcuclintasha @captainsmallassrogers @fangirlinacoffeeshopweshare @anisiamoisa @awesomelittledemarco03 @aletteredaffair @castellandiangelo @theangrylizard @frencchfries @takemetooneverlanddd @sp2900 @smilexcaptainx @monpetitcoin21 @marymoon18 @mccunted @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @chuuulip @sweetlittlegingy @lookalivefrosty @brookebradford @patzammit @stucky-is-life-thank-you @bval-1 @need-more-time @blowfishevans @polarcrystall @little-dark-empress @rosalynshields @asianbuttcheek @dailythotdotcom @topstory21 @canny1902 @alexxcorona113 @what-inspirational-name @summer-may @abbyalee @littlefiercequeen @stardancerluv @oncemorewithfeelingg @sophiealiice @snowxbarryxendgame

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

It’s Not About You (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death Is An Art

Read On AO3

Three Blind Tooke

Part Three: Death is an Art

Chapter Sixty: It’s Not About You

I second guess my life, my death;

I second guess saying it’s time to rest.

I don’t want to be the one to say goodbye,

I don’t want to give pain nor end your life.

Rain trickled from the clouds in the overcast sky. The droplets drummed against the helmet that you wore, the sound echoing in your ears though it was distorted by the insulation that the gear provided. Superstitious individuals may have claimed that this was the heavens crying. Bodies were strewn across the battlefield. Ash dampened by the rain smeared with each step you took. The soot clung to your clothing the same as to that of the three Knights of Ren who had accompanied you. Alongside the shuttle that had carried your small crew were two transports of Force sensitive stormtroopers. Their red armor darkened with the filth. Weak flames were doused. They hissed in their death, smoke trails dancing along the sky.

You walked through the filth and mud. Your boots stuck a handful of times, requiring you to exert more strength to keep moving. As you moved, your eyes shifted to take in the entirety of the devastation that lay before you. What had once been a Resistance Base was now a graveyard. Your lips parted behind your helmet; you were grateful for the mouthpiece with its filtration system that kept you from choking on the scent of death. Vicrul, having kept pace, turned and broke away from your side to investigate a new section. Meanwhile you lowered yourself down to one knee, genuflecting and touching three fingers to a singed jacket that was caked in gore. The untarnished portion contained a name, albeit one that was not intimately known by you.

Ap’lek had not been pulled from the bacta tank despite the passing of sixteen days. It was him you thought of as you traced the letters of the name on the jacket. There was a longing for him to be there. He would have had more of a connection to the dead that were present than any of these other three Knights. You would have felt less out of place. Not that your loyalties were questioned--Supreme Leader Kylo Ren would not have sanctioned this mission with you as lead if that were the case. He had walked amongst them, though, just as you had. These Resistance fighters and technicians who had been slaughtered by the First Order.

The enlargement of the raindrops resulted in louder taps hitting off your helmet. The first one caused the fingers of your left hand to twitch. You curled the digits towards your palm then pulled away from the fallen Resistance fighter. Twisting at your torso, you considered the Order of Ren ‘troopers. Their objective was to locate and salvage any usable supplies and information that could assist in countering the First Order. The Knights of Ren were more focused on potential artifacts to do with the Force. That, and to protect you. It was unspoken, however you were not an idiot. Kylo would not have allowed you out of his sights without any of the Knights. Things were coming to a head in the war.

Supreme Leader Armitage Hux had been targeting Force sensitives with the knowledge that they had been a part of a contingency plan by the late Emperor, ergo a threat to his power. The technological powers that had also been developed by the Empire to counter those capable of wielding the Force had been more to his liking. Palpatine had been greedy, hoping to keep the power to himself or to others that he could place under his control.

Cardo journeyed past you to inspect another corpse that was a little over a yard away from your current location. You observed him with a growing sense of numbness. His hands skimmed along the body in search of anything useful. If he was looking for something specific, that had not been stated. He did shove a handful of things into a pouch that he had been carrying since arriving on the planet. You turned away from the looting. Reminded yourself that you, too, had done the same. Not that you were feeling anything ill towards the Knights.

The level of slaughter depicted a rather vivid picture; the First Order had conducted a full raid on this base. You twisted one way then another to scan the level of devastation that had taken place. It was calculated, not as haphazard as it would have been with an airstrike. Ground troops, perhaps with aerial cover to prevent escape.

“Are you searching for your mother?” Trudgen asked. You blinked thrice at the sound of his voice. It possessed a different depth when you wore the helmet that Cardo had made for you. His question caused you pause as you considered the answer, having been unsure if that had been one of your motivations for examining each corpse you passed.

Finger running along the length of the blaster you had your hip, you offered a shrug. In a way, you had been searching for any familiar face. Your mother. Poe Dameron. Finn. Rose Tico. General Leia Organa; although, for her, Kylo would have sensed her death and would have come himself. You moved away from the bodies and headed for the destroyed tents in search of any Nabooian objects that you could salvage. Anything at all, no matter how small, they were all the galaxy had of your home planet. That was why you had come to walk amongst the dead and and all the destruction. Eventually you would search any body that none of the Knights or Order of Ren did.

It felt surreal to strip pieces of clothing from the bodies of your former allies, however over time you began to mentally dissociate. You stopped checking faces and names. They were dead, gone; they may have hated you or tried to kill you if they had not perished and you had met on the battlefield. You could not dwell on them. More and more you were understanding how it was that Kylo Ren had become the man you had met, the once-upon-a-time creature that had pierced your body with his lightsaber. All of that detachment, it was the one true way to make ones way through war. Had you not done the same but to a lesser degree?

It’s stranger when I used to walk among them. You dipped down to pick up a tiny trinket with a metal flower that was native to Naboo. He grew up with many of these people. To distance himself and not be sentimental stemmed from more than Snoke’s influence. It was equally interesting and odd for you to realize the variety of things people brought with them in the war. Trinkets. Books. Photographs. Tangible objects that reminded them of what they were fighting for.

When you returned to the quarters that you shared with Kylo, you discovered that he was there. His eyes drifted down to the small object clipped to the bag that was filled with salvaged Nabooian objects. The electronic pet had dead batteries. That or it was broken, which you would learn after you showered and acquired a new set of batteries to tuck into it. You placed the bag on the floor near the end of the bed then walked towards the refresher, discarding your clothes along the way. Exhaustion was creeping into your limbs, else you would have said something more than the muttered hello to Kylo.

You sat on the floor of the shower slightly away from the spray as it warmed. Footsteps echoed off the walls. The sounds brought a smile to your face, as did his question, “Are you building a collection of electronic pets?” With the travels you had done recently, you were now up to four. One was broken, its screen cracked, although it powered on with a high pitched squeal. Due to this you had removed the batteries and placed them into another, which had failed to turn on at all despite its outwardly pristine condition.

He was undressing. Material being shuffled was too familiar a sound, one that you had come to enjoy hearing when it was from him. You scooted nearer to the corner so that when he stepped in his foot did not hit your body. Kylo’s gaze was on you from the start. There was no transition in which he had to look down to locate where you were. Tilting your head, you leaned it against the wall and sucked your lips into your mouth while raising your eyebrows. The door to the shower slid closed as he moved to where he was blocking the spray of water with his body. You traced the scars on his skin with your eyes beginning with those on his face and ending with the ones near his thighs.

“What if I am?” you asked in unison with reaching forward to trail your hands along his legs starting from his knees and rising up to where you could press your palms together and cup his cock. You chewed on your bottom lip while shifting into a more comfortable position. “We never talked about it.” A noise of curiosity from him to acknowledge that he was listening. “Kylo, we ate a human heart.” Is this what all-consuming love feels like?

“Hmm.” He cupped the sides of your face and tilted back your head. “Do you consider those monsters to be human, my little tooke?” Your breath hitched at the sound of the question and the light--and darkness--it shed on the reality of things. As he spoke, Kylo moved down so that his legs caged you against the wall. His large frame continued to block the spray of water though some droplets managed to splash past and caused you to blink. His thumbs hooked towards your mouth. You parted your lips. Felt those pads move inside and begin to skim along your teeth. The teeth that had first bitten into the muscle before he had joined you. “They’re beasts, they’re nothing.” He pressed one of the thumbs in further, using it to pin down your tongue. The hunger in his eyes, that he had for you, was something less savage.

Through the bond you shared, you felt only a sense of inner peace that thrummed throughout your entire body. An understanding that he had torn the heart from the fallen First Order officer to dye himself in blood as a means of erasing the horror he had felt from you. Handing the organ to you, a gesture of love. Consuming it to prevent you from going through that temporary insanity alone. In fact he had eaten the majority of the heart, as though lessening whatever burden it would cause you once your faculties were restored.

You sealed your lips around his thumbs while undulating your tongue as best you could with the pressure remaining. Kylo relented, lifting the digit so that you could explore and taste it. He dragged the second out before using that entire hand to begin caressing your body. It paused at a breast, palming it. He pinched the nipple, alternating between a gentle touch and something more demanding. You felt jolts of pleasure spike through you each time that he assaulted the bud. Kylo ducked to where he could mouth its twin, his teeth more demanding than his hand. You closed your eyes as the water sprayed against it and as your body clenched in pure want.

“I would eat another for you,” he said against your flesh. Wetness pooled from your body, your cunt growing slick. You whimpered around his thumb, which then downpressed your tongue and held it captive. “First I will devour you.” You shuddered with an awareness of how it would feel in the next few minutes.

His hands enveloped you after abandoning your mouth and breast, and he laid you out upon the floor of the shower. The spray pattered against your flesh. This sensation sent yet more tingles dancing along your body just as Kylo began to run the underside of his tongue from your throat to your cunt. His nose brushed against your clit, an action that earned him a moan from you. He pushed open your legs more, stopping only when you hooked them over his shoulders. Your heels dug into his back with the first swipe of his tongue.

His tongue danced along your folds while his fingers bit into your inner thighs. His nose brushed against your clit once more as he flattened his tongue against you and drew all he could into his mouth. You reached down and grabbed at his hair, tugging him as close as possible to your cunt. You rocked your hips as he thrust his tongue inside of you, starting to fuck you in earnest. You pulled at his hair and ground down. His tongue squirmed within you, swirling. He worked a finger inside of you, the long digit easily finding the area inside of you that siphoned the breath out of your lungs. The wet sounds of slurping had you feeling flush. Water splashed along your face. You tried blinking past the spray to watch Kylo, but found that the endeavor was meeting with a frustrating failure. As a second finger was added, you allowed yourself to succumb fully to a sort of blind pleasure.

It was as Kylo was working in a third finger, scissoring and stretching you open to accommodate still more, that you understood his intention. “O-oh,” you said. Your fingers grasped more tightly on his hair. It had to be uncomfortable for him, you passively thought; such considerations were eliminated with the insertion of that fourth finger. He toyed with your clit using his tongue, rocking it up and down then manipulating it into small circles. You were opened so widely for him. His fingers stroking you from within, those calloused pads skimming the surface of your inner walls. Your jaw dropped, your eyelashes fluttering.

His entire fist shifted into you, leaving you with the impression that not a single part was left untouched. The pressure on your g-spot had you arching your back. Kylo sealed his lips around your clit. His sucking coupled with his thrusting drew whimpers and moans, which increased in volume. Your hands moved frantically in his hair then scrambled on your thighs, upwards until you were pulling your own hair with one hand and biting down on the knuckles of the other.

The sudden feeling of emptiness assaulted you just as you had been on the brink of orgasm. You cried out. Teeth caught on the edge of your flesh, blood pooling from your knuckle onto your tongue then down the length of your body as you desperately reached for him. Kylo chuckled. His hands were both on your legs, tugging you along the shower floor until his cock was nestled between your outer lips. He rolled his hips, fucking against you instead of inside of you. Your body clenched--stars, you felt so empty, so desperate to be filled once more. Kylo leaned down and captured your mouth. You whined into the kiss. Raked your nails along his back with only a fraction of awareness that you were leaving marks on him.

“I need you to fuck me,” you managed to say between moans and breaths after turning your head to keep him from silencing you with kisses.

“Oh.” A huffed out breath, the word not immediately registering as being anything more than a random sound. You knit your eyebrows towards one another. You could feel just how aroused he was, how his body reacted to yours. His self-control was superb. It was different than it had been in the past as well, these moments of disinterest and passivity more genuine. A side effect of his having used that Sith artifact to regain his vision. Kylo tilted his head to the right. His eyes wandered along your face, a sight you could appreciate now that his body was again shielding you from the water.

You reached up to cup a hand over his mouth. Not that you knew what you were silencing until you had spoken. “Oh.” You attempted to sound just as he had, to match the tone. His lips shifted behind your hand. Amusement from him had been one of the last things you were looking for. “You know--” You released a strangled noise of confusion as his muffled murmurs tickled your palm.

“I was wondering where the blood came from,” he repeated after you removed your hand. You tilted your wrist to consider the knuckle, which gave tiny droplets of blood intermittently. “You bit yourself.” A question rose in your mind: had he thought he was imagining the blood? A second question as to whether he often did so. Kylo ran the tip of his tongue along his lips in a slow venture that caused your abdominal muscles to tighten. “Mm.”

That grunt was the only warning you were given before he resumed where he had left off. The thick head of his cock began to push into you, stretching you once more as you had been craving. You felt opened inch by inch, your body clenching around him. Wanting more. Feeling equally full and empty, the conflicting sensations almost leading you to hyperventilate as your mind tried to work through them.

“Please, more,” you moaned. His hair weaved between your fingers as you caressed the back of his head. His breath and voice were at your ear. My greedy little tooke. Your body was on fire. Tendrils of the Force coiled around you beginning at your wrists before coiling around your torso and limbs. Along your neck, a light pressure on the sides so that you began to feel a sense of vertigo. You knew that he could feel how you were clenching; around him, under him, everywhere. The way you grew wetter with each phantom touch and every thrust of his cock within you.

Kylo encircled the wrist of your injured knuckle and dragged your hand down to where your bodies met. “I can sense what you’re thinking, what you’re wondering.” You trembled at his words--in delight, in anticipation of what he was going to do now that he had learned more of you through the bond you shared. “Would you like to see?”

“Will I be scared?” you countered, noting how his movements had slowed without coming to a complete halt.

His wet hair was beginning to stick to his face, starting to drip. His lips were redder than usual from the kissing you had done, from how he had sucked on your clit. “You may be.” This truth failed to inspire fear in you though your heart nevertheless hammered more quickly. Your eyes widened. For him to ask permission before using the Force on you. You nodded twice. “Keep your hand there. Play with your clit.” As he spoke, the hand around your wrist relinquished its hold and journeyed up to the side of your head. His fingertips stroked along your scalp. Brushing, petting. You leaned into his touch and felt your breath stolen for what felt like the millionth time.

The spray of the water disappeared though the sensation of its warmth did not. The walls leaked red, a deep crimson that you well knew. It lacked the more grotesque gore that you had seen earlier on the decimated Resistance Base. Here there was only blood and ash flowing from the sky around you. The ash swirled as it fluttered down towards the blood on the walls and floor. Your body and Kylo’s were stained in streaks that pinked as the invisible water diluted it. There was a wetness on his face that was not red nor pink. The illusion of tears flickered in and out of focus.

Kylo repeated his earlier demand. “Play with your clit.” You obeyed now without question, rolling the nub and feeling its smoothness with the rough pads of your fingers. You had fucked in bloodier circumstances, however those had not been the wounds of his soul. His hand found your throat though the images of blood failed to fade away. He started to cut off your air and blood supply, relenting in waves, in time with the undulation of his body against and within yours. You clenched around him in unison with those movements, your body and his together in this dance of souls and bodies. His other hand found yours. He entwined your fingers together, setting the limbs beside your head. Your tears were not an illusion. They were joy, a lack of hair, sorrow, pleasure, exaltation and despair. You came, your vision blackening around the edges.

The stars were bright, were popping, going nova, turning into black holes that threatened to swallow you as you felt the strongest ecstasy you had ever experienced rush through you. His joy matched yours. Kylo’s name--Kylo, Kylo, Kylo--a repetition, a mantra, a prayer.

You could feel him continue to slam into you repeatedly. His thrusts were frantic and shallow, hips jerking as he sought his own release. He growled as he came, his cum filling you then dripping from you as he pulled out. Only then was your vision beginning to correct itself.

“I would be a monster without you.”

The difficulty was that you were not certain if he had spoken those words or if you had. His body enveloped yours, Kylo pulled you into his arms and rolling to where he was sitting on the shower floor with you cuddled against him. He stretched out with a hand to summon the soaps and shampoo with the Force. The illusion of blood faded, the red thinning into pink then translucent fluids. Water poured from the showerhead and there were no traces of tears on Kylo Ren’s face. You used your injured knuckle to wipe at the salty residue of your tears. It stung, but not enough to truly bother you or encourage you to stop.

His hands, one holding a washcloth lathered in soap, roamed your body. You sank into the sensation of being simultaneously cleaned and explored. The water had gradually cooled, the hot now warm. The temperature remained comfortable throughout the time it took for Kylo to wash you clean and for you to return the favor. You studied the marks you had left on his back with your nails. Combed through his hair with your fingers. Stared into those eyes, marveling at the depth to them, these windows of his soul. They were guarded, albeit less so when he returned your gaze and opened himself up to you.

Kylo assisted you when you were ready to stand; your legs were less supportive than they had been before your activities with him, a welcome sort of pain. He shifted you to sit on the toilet then handed you a towel. Both you and he patted yourselves dry without speaking. This silence that clung was one of understanding and peace. After you were dried off, you preceded Kylo into the bedroom.

You wobbled over to where you had dropped the bag, working the electronic pet off so that you could at last learn if it was still in working order or not. You had a towel wrapped around your body and no desire to dress in clothes just then. Kylo was different in that respect. He walked past you and pulled on a pair of pants. You had managed to open the electronic toy by the time that he returned with a fresh battery, which he deposited on the bed within your reach.

“Ap’lek has been removed from the tank,” he said quietly as you put the new battery into the toy and resealed it. You did not react immediately. There was much to process with what he had said. Being removed from the bacta tank could be a good thing or else something negative, an indication that death was imminent. It was difficult for you to decide whether or not to ask. This was a man that Kylo had known for years now, a part of his found family after the turmoil he had been through with Luke attempting to kill him and his parents essentially abandoning him. You looked up from the electronic pet to observe his facial expressions. It was not as easy a task as it had been prior to the Sith artifact, however you did know him well enough to easily spot the tiniest of details within seconds.

You returned your gaze to the toy. “He will regain consciousness, I believe it.” Kylo nodded, murmuring that he could still feel Ap’lek in the Force. It felt like a hand clenching around your heart to know that he had reached out to sense the other. You angled your body nearer to his, allowing him to accept or reject the gesture of physical comfort. He chose to move into it, his chest at your back much as it had been in the shower. “It works.”

The device powered on with a high pitched noise that was normal for its design. That sound faded into one lower in volume as you were taken to a selection screen. This particular pet allowed you to choose from three different creatures. One was a fathier, the second a galoomp, and the final was a bursa. Your attention lingered on the second two creatures, both of which were native to Naboo--had been native, you corrected yourself--although the galoomp was also known to dwell on Tatooine. It struck you again that so much life had been lost with the destruction of your birth planet. Not only the people, the local fauna and flora. You swiped your thumb along the pixelated pictures of the creatures on the tiny device.

Instead of choosing one of the creatures, you hard pressed on the buttons necessary to put the game into sleep mode and made a mental note to remove the battery later rather than allow it to run dry. You stashed the electronic toy in the same location that you had the others. Kylo silently observed these actions without comment. It was difficult to not wonder what he was thinking; it would likely have nothing to do with your growing collection, which seemed to amuse him. There were other matters to preoccupy him. Each one of those held more importance than toys.

Next you selected loose clothing to at long last dress in. There was no comment made in regards to you snatching one of Kylo’s shirts, although this did earn you a grunt of acknowledgment. You wanted to rest; it was the wisest move given that no one could predict when next a mission or an attack would arise.

“You should eat.” You frowned at the suggestion, more because your body agreed at the sudden awareness of its hunger than at his words. Kylo did not say another word as you climbed into bed, tugging the sheets over yourself and laying your head on the pillow. He audibly sighed and shifted over to his commlink to order food to be brought to his quarters. There was no option offered nor a prolonged conversation; together, these two factors indicated that Kylo had been aware of the possibility and had made arrangements for food earlier. You appreciated his forethought.

Bending your legs at the knees, your vision of him was obscured until he walked to the bed and joined you. The pair of you lay in silence for a number of minutes before you rolled onto your side to look at him. He had the appearance of someone who had not slept well. There were bags forming under his eyes. You reached for him, running your hand gently along the area so that his eyelids fluttered closed. The temptation to leave your hand there nagged at you due to the likelihood that he would reopen his eyes the moment your limb left. You shifted it all the same and rested your palm on his chest. He was warm to the touch, the effects of the shower still in play. In this moment you were struck by the similarities between mother and son--though you had not seen her often, after you had returned to the Resistance you had noted that Leia Organa frequently looked tired. Both were the leaders of their factions in the war. All you could hope was that Armitage Hux was equally, if not more, tired than the pair.

“Will you rest with me?” you asked, suddenly quite afraid that he would reject the request. There was much he had to run, countless tasks and missions that required his attention. The Knights of Ren had not yet spoken to him in regards to whatever mission had been theirs on the planet. Kylo said nothing, although this did not surprise you. The door to his quarters had opened to permit the stormtrooper entrance. They set the platter of food onto the bedside table before leaving. You twisted around to check what had been brought. There were two drinks, both sealed, present. You lifted the lid off the platter and this revealed two small plates of identical portions. It comforted you to know that he was planning to at least share a meal with you even if he wound up leaving his quarters afterwards.

You scooted upwards, slipping into a sitting position, and pulled the drink you knew to be yours into your lap. Next you grabbed his drink. As you were doing this, you felt the mattress shift in indication that he, too, was adjusting his posture. You handed him his plate after giving him the drink, and finally you pulled your food to yourself.

“I’ve been dreaming about things that happened,” you said once you had consumed the first bite. You felt his gaze upon you though he said nothing; his mouth was full of food at the time, and you would rather he did not talk in that case. “Is it stupid that a part of me feels so sick at the thought of destroying the ship Hux is on?”

You looked directly at his face to find him furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“Millicent,” you murmured, ducking your head. His gaze softened in understanding. “I want to take her, not kill her. She gave me comfort when I would visit his quarters. She was one of the reasons it was so easy to view him as a human instead of a monster. Is that weird--that she’s his humanity to me?”

His thick fingers skimmed the circumference of the plate he held. While you studied his face, Kylo inspected his food. The question you had asked was layered, you supposed. It could also be that he was refraining from mentioning how many creatures Hux had slaughtered with the destruction of Naboo and even before then. Even after then. The death of a single animal should not be a wound you feared, not in this context. Yet it did hurt you to think of. It twisted dreams of the past into nightmares of the future. Where you had subconsciously searched the faces of those in the Resistance for individuals you had known, you consciously dreaded happening upon the small body in any setting and thus avoided those thoughts until they lashed violently at the corners of your mind, demanding attention.

For want of something, anything, to do, you took another bite of your food and began to chew at an exaggeratedly slow pace. Your mind began to wander. This time you allowed it to do so. You ran over the items that you had obtained on the mission, focusing ultimately on the electronic pet. You could save pixelated creatures, could revive them with batteries. Except in the cases where the devices themselves were broken. You frowned while swallowing.

“If I get the chance, I’m going to steal her. Rescue her.” You faced Kylo headon to gauge his reaction. Not only did you have the impact of his stare, but his emotions filtered through the bond. He did not wish to dissuade you from clinging onto hope, however he believed your self-appointed quest was a fool’s errand. “I won’t be stupid about it. I promise.” His lips twitching towards a smirk told you that he believed it was already toeing the lines of stupidity.

Kylo popped another bite into his mouth. It was amusing to you that he was not exactly putting up an argument. Ultimately he did have a say in what missions you were allowed on. He had a spy somewhere in the First Order, you remembered. Perhaps that individual could steal away Millicent, bring her to a designated area where a Knight or a trusted member of the Order of Ren could accept her and bring her to you. As far as officially proposing this scenario to Kylo went, you opened your mouth then closed it immediately. He grunted. There would be no getting around it. You spoke softly. Toyed with the food on your plate as you explained the plan that you had begun to devise.

“You wish to risk lives and resources for a cat.” It stung, the cold logic of his words as he delivered reality into the setting of your fantasy. His lips pushed forward momentarily before he rolled his neck and stared at you. You still had yet to look up, observing him only in your peripheral vision. “Aris, an officer, and a stormtrooper.” You eyebrows drew towards one another. Was this the beginning of a joke? “Ushar is on a mission to retrieve them.” This was no joke, no laughing matter. You envisioned the young pantoran female working to gain access to a ship--Maker, she was reckless. She was a child.

Kylo’s hand on your chest stopped you from surging forward. You were all too ready to spring to your feet. The exhaustion in your limbs was combated by the adrenaline that began to course through you. This was a reason that children did not belong in the war. Though you had proposed something so foolish and reckless, asked to steal away Millicent, you were not rushing for that. You did not blindly go for it, risking who knew how many lives in the process. You brushed away his hand while exhaling and closing your eyes. You had to recenter yourself. He had waited to tell you until you had showered and eaten for a reason. You were in no condition to do anything. Ushar was already on his way, you mentally repeated.

“Did she use the Force on the officer and stormtrooper?” He shook his head, unsure. You angrily took another bite. Replenishing your energy was more important to you than before. “How do you plan to punish her?” His lips parted though no words emerged. It was different than if an adult had been the one to behave as such. An example could be made. Not that he was incapable of doing the same with Aris, however it would do more harm than could. She was a child. “Send her to her room with no dessert.” It was not a laughing matter. You simply needed something positive to take your mind off of the possible negative outcomes. Wanted to comfort Kylo in any way that you could. He had signed up to be a leader and, in some respects, a teacher. Not a babysitter, not a father. “Would you like me to help?”

“You would tell her the realities of war?” You nodded without hesitation. A puff of air escaped him and after a short pause he nodded, granting you permission. Any weight that you could lift from his shoulders, you would. The blood in the shower, you could lessen its volume. Separately you both risked becoming monsters, bloodthirsty and inhuman. Together you were not. You maintained your humanity and balanced one another.

Incapable of doing anything until Ushar returned, hopefully with the three in tow, you finished eating and set the two plates onto the platter. You slipped back into your previous position, ready to nap though your mind was not quieting. Your body was physically tired more than it had been before. The last of your energy drained as adrenaline dwindled down. You curled towards Kylo’s body, gradually scooting closer until he turned and allowed you to spoon him. It did not take long for you to fall asleep, thoughts and dreams swirling along the edge of your consciousness.

It was the Naboo of your childhood, each of the younglings possessing a familiar face and each holding a tiny version of some creature or another. The miniature galoomp walked in circles on one child’s palm. You observed its mundane actions, finding that it did nothing of note. As you walked away from the child, you came to the realization that you were wearing your wedding dress. It flowed behind you the entire time you walked in the direction of the water. At the edge rested a creature that you had never before seen. It sat hunched over with a clawed hand to its chest, which was no more than an open, empty cavity.

“I will still devour the galaxy,” it growled out. “That was but a taste of my loyalty.” The creature turned its head to you. Its muzzle contorted as it grinned, baring its fangs. Its eyes glowed white. “There are thousands more, and we will eat you.” Bloodied foam dripped from its mouth as it began to salivate. With a cackle, it sprang into motion.

You jumped backwards to avoid assault only to realize your mistake too late. You had not been the target. The monstrous creature raced past you and headed for the younglings with their miniature creatures. You tried to run, to catch it, screamed and then…

...and then you woke up with a cry spilling from you, a shout tearing from your throat in the waking world as Kylo cradled your face between both of his hands. You shook your head, shoved at his wrists to break his hold. He did not stop you. Kylo drew away from you, stepped backwards, and watched as you sat up. You pressed the backs of your hands against your eyes. Struggled to control your breathing and will your heart to beat at its normal pace.

You had had similar nightmares before, had them since joining the Resistance and seeing battle. There were always things that prompted these nightmares. Sights. Concerns. With this, you knew it was your worry concerning Aris and the heart that you had eaten. “Has Ushar returned?” How long have I been asleep?

Kylo Ren was fully clothed. The reduction of bags under his eyes meant that he had slept before dressing. Which meant, you reasoned, that you had been unconscious for a considerable amount of time. You pushed the blankets off of yourself while searching him for an answer to the question you had asked. Kylo held up his left hand, gesturing with two fingers towards himself. Swallowing, you moved off the bed and set a hand on the bedside table to keep from tilting over. It took you another few seconds to compose yourself and fully waken. Only then did Kylo begin walking in the direction of the refresher.

The first thing that you noticed was that the door was closed. You dreaded what you would find. Had Aris been injured? She would be in medbay, not the refresher, you scolded yourself. Shaking your head, you nodded the next moment to let him know that you were ready. Kylo pushed open the door partway, slipping inside and making another gesture for you to follow suit. You scowled. It was a nuisance to not open the door entirely, however you soon learned why. I’m still asleep.

You pinched your right cheek, wincing at the very real pain you felt. Hiding behind the toilet, peeking out at both you and Kylo was the small feline that you had asked for. This was not something that Kylo would have ordered, not as Supreme Leader, unless there were already people in a position where they had to escape Armitage Hux and the First Order. You lowered into a crouch, shoving at the door with your foot so that it slammed closed. There were many questions that you could ask, but instead you accepted the thick blanket of silence for as long as you could.

Your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Your hands curled and uncurled, forming fists only to flatten out. “What happened?” your voice cracked as you spoke. This fact did not embarrass or anger you as it might have in other situations with other audiences.

“The First Order captured the three. The officer was executed immediately, the stormtrooper and Aris taken captive. Ushar would have been taken as well had our spy not acted. The scrambled comm devices that your technician friend in the Resistance made… The Order of Ren worked to design some.” Ushar had communicated with him, you surmised, following along. “Our spy was already revealed, our resources already expended. It was nothing to grab this one. The stormtrooper was killed during the escape. The spy killed himself to allow the others to escape; this was not the First Order flagship, which makes Millicent’s presence there curious. I suspect a recent visitation from Hux.”

“Where are Aris and Ushar?”

“Medbay.” Kylo Ren crouched down, gesturing with a single finger towards the hiding feline. “There was a datachip clipped to her collar. It contains copies of Imperial records that list families with known Force sensitivity lineage along with their birth planets. Naboo was frequently mentioned on that list as were two others. The destruction of Naboo had been in Hux’s design since before we eliminated Phasma.” He lowered his hand. “Should I praise her for inadvertently assisting us? Punish her?” He was emotionally detached.

You did not know what to tell him. A part of you believed that both should be implemented, however you were left with the knowledge that you did not know her current condition. Both Aris and Ushar were in medbay, and that was all you knew. Three people were dead. The list of family members and planets might save more lives. It would offer a chance to counter moves the First Order may be plotting. This was a terrible position to be in, to weigh if the lives lost had been worth it all. What made a good death?

The finger you had used to pull the trigger during your time with the Resistance twitched. You curled it inward, pressed your thumb on it to create a minor sensation of pain. This was a game that all pieces in the war played. A worthy sacrifice. Is it time for him to die? Is it time for her to be spared? Is it time that they enter the battle? Therein was the issue, the reason why you did not want to visit medbay. To see the extent of damage done meant that you might also be saying farewell. If you did not go, you would lose that chance.

What if they’re mortally injured and it’s up to me to say when it’s time? You had been in that position before. Sat at the bedside of an ally with the awareness that no family member was on the base to witness their final moments. You had been there to comfort them. To whisper softly, to tell them that it was alright if they were ready to let go. Their hand in yours--when still they had such limbs--and those impossibly wide eyes--when they had eyes--on your face. The silent plea, the contradiction: let me die please don’t let me die oh please kill me and end this pain I don’t want to die I’m not ready. You did not want to prolong their suffering and you also did not want to let them go too early. The angel of death remained an executioner. Mercy was a plague.

It hit you in that moment why you had grown numb on the Resistance base with the three Knights of Ren with you. There had been no one left alive as you had feared. You had known that, if any person was choking, was in their death throes, you would have gone to them and knelt at their side. Done what you could to ease them in their final moments.

Your eyes journeyed along Kylo’s back, which was rigid. Your mind was wandering back to the shared shower and how he had permitted you a chance to see the blood that tainted his soul. The tears that threatened to cascade if only it was not a sign of vulnerability. Even then he had been aware that Aris and the others had been headed for the First Order. He had already sent Ushar after them, potentially to his death. All the while Ap’lek was on a bed in medbay. Not conscious; he would have told you if the Knight of Ren had regained consciousness. You shifted up onto your knees and shuffled over to him until you could rest your forehead against his spine. Your arms wrapped around his stomach, your hands on him. He commanded the entire Order of Ren.

I would be a monster without you.

Sending others on missions that could result in their deaths. Ordering what was viewed by the opposing sides as slaughter. Farewell, humanity. The monster slayer uglied their own soul, tainted themselves, and only in death did they find release.

I am made of clay, I am made of paper. I am a star that shines, a star that dims. I am a monster slayer. I am a monster. I am human. I am what I make myself to be.

With each thought, you traced a letter with your fingers onto Kylo’s abdomen. You spelled your name, branding him as he had branded you. He stood, pulling you along with him. Not once did your lettering cease. Your name and then his. You murmured the words that you had thought, substituting the I with We, pluralising each line.

We are made of clay, we are made of paper. We are stars that shine, stars that dim. We are monster slayers. We are monsters. We are human. We are what we make ourselves to be.

To know that you had momentarily weighed the life of a feline against those that might have been lost, that reality had latched onto the idea and made it so, caused your head to spin. Kylo moved a single hand atop both of yours. His limb stilled your movements; it was the only thing that could have stopped you from again writing out your name and his. How well they joined together, flowing from one to the other without cessation, feeling natural as though they had never been separate.

“I believe in you,” you whispered. The hand atop yours trembled then clenched more tightly. It kept yours against his body. He held onto you as though you were an anchor. “You know what you have to do...and you don’t have to do it alone. Never. I’m here with you, for you.”

There was no such thing as too young to die, not in war. Not in life. The young and old alike perished each day. Kylo Ren himself had taken the lives of--stars, how many had there been? This one shook him. He saw his father in himself in that moment for a child that did not belong to him. Death was not a certainty for her, however its likelihood was what shackled him to that refresher with you.

Should I praise her for inadvertently assisting us? Punish her? The detachment made more sense to you. His inability to properly feel the emotions that he might have had he not regained his eyesight through the Dark side of the Force bothered him. He knew that it was not a normal response.

“Both.” The single word flowed over you. There was no second of unease for you. It was all that you had expected. Ap’lek and Aris both would be unplugged from the machines that were assisting their bodies. A means of checking if they stood a chance. Were their lives worth having Millicent, worth having the chip that contained that list of names? Was this their good deaths for the war? Sacrificed for the cause. Or they could survive yet be removed from active status. “Ushar said that Aris spoke of a vision through the Force. There was a need for her to go. Ironic that your own stupid obsession with the cat would echo these sentiments.”

“The Force wills it,” you murmured. They were not words that you had often spoken. In fact, it was rare enough that you could not remember when last you had said them. Their sound had Kylo twisting around in your embrace then stepping backwards, breaking contact. You rocked forward a step, caught yourself, and straightened your posture. “It’s no comfort if they die. Then we ask if the Force wanted their deaths. We ask ourselves what mistakes we made. I’ll say it for the both of us: I don’t want them to die.” A vulnerability, one that he could not allow himself.

Kylo’s expression was guarded, which would not change until he was entirely alone. Even then it would be an internal struggle that ate away at his resolve before he gave in if only to keep his sanity. You refrained from commenting on it at all. Checking yourself over in the mirror, you worked to make yourself more presentable. Only when you were done with this did you exit the refresher. You slipped on socks and shoes. Kylo had, during that time, strode to the door of the quarters. The pair of you exited together and walked in silence towards medbay.

Droid and human physicians alike hovered by two beds. The pantoran female was stretched across one. Her blue skin was marked with areas of black. The clothes she had worn were sheared away in patches, allowing you to see the burns. Beside her beeped the machines that read off her vitals. Across from her rested Ap’lek. He, too, was attached to several machines that fed him oxygen and monitored him. His injuries were all internal. You knew the reason that the physicians would refuse to place Aris in the bacta tank; the initial scans were not as favorable as Ap’lek’s had been. Even then he, too, was facing potential death.

“Can the Force bring someone back from the dead?” The question left you before you could catch yourself and you instantly regretted it. Wincing, you looked to Kylo with the intention of apologizing. His eyes abandoned your face without a response. He walked past the bed that held Ushar, who seemed to have sustained minor injuries aside from broken bones in his hand and a broken clavicle along with a sprained ankle. With a huff, you followed along after Kylo. He had gone to Aris’s bed. His glare would have made her shrink in embarrassment and fear had she been awake. You felt ill at such thoughts. She might never awaken again.

You slid her hand into yours. She looked even younger, much smaller, on this bed in medbay. One of the droids moved a chair behind you, which allowed you to sit without releasing Aris. What a foolish girl. A reckless child. You sucked your lips into your mouth, biting down on them and holding your breath as the physician walked to the machine. If Aris displayed signs of thriving, she would be moved into the bacta tank. They had waited for their Supreme Leader, likely utilizing the time it took him to return to work on her and ensure she was in a stable enough condition to try. At least that was your assumption--you were no medic, you understood life and death from a different angle.

The beep, beep-beep was drowned out by the sound of your own pulse in your ears. Phantom fingers walked up your spine and settling on your neck. There they tapped out a steady rhythm. This was not Kylo, not the Force. It was your mind trying to push away from the moment. It was you subconsciously working to dissociate. As you became aware of this, you shook your head and forced yourself to resume breathing. Reminded yourself that you had to be present in that moment no matter the outcome.

You could save all the electronic toys in the galaxy, but what would it do without hands to hold them? Her pulse was weak. It was beating against your skin. Her breaths were so shallow. What if the Force demanded you pick only one life to spare? What if it denied you both?

When you had died, you had held onto your father’s hand. Who would be holding Aris’s when she died? Kylo had said that he had been in darkness. You did not want this child to be alone. This stupid girl. This reckless child. If she was to die, what would you say to her? Would you ask her why, or would that question be directed only at the Force?

Someone was saying your name. It clicked only then that you were alone with Aris. The others, the physicians and Kylo had gone to Ap’lek. Ushar had clumsily risen from his bed, much to the chagrin of the physicians. One life was regaining strength. The other was fading away. The crawling sensation along your spine danced along the entirety of your back. You swayed, nearly pitching off the chair. How you caught yourself, you were not certain. Your focus had begun to waver near immediately.

I don’t want to know when it’s time to let death come. I don’t want to say that it’s being merciful. I don’t want that power. I don’t want that position.

It was easier when you were pulling the trigger. Not when it was the life of someone that you loved. Did the world stop fighting for them because the resources were expended? Was it selfishness? Was it selflessness?

The Force wills it. Light and dark. Life and death. A balance, a cycle, hand in hand.

Your gaze dropped down to the hand that you were holding. So small, yet it had held a weapon. So tiny and young, but it had helped serve in this war. The echo of memory, Kylo’s voice saying that you had armed a child. Had that been the moment that her fate was sealed? Your actions may have been the catalyst. Could you ask her to keep fighting? Whisper to her now, plead with her and the Force and anything and everything. Apologize for giving her the blade, because surely you were the one that had encouraged her to be reckless, to be stupid, to embrace this war like it was nothing more than a game.

And if you could save her life, what would you give in return? Who would you choose to take her place? To state the name of your enemy would be far too easy.

You had consumed a heart, had taken life into your barren body, and now you could offer nothing but death. It was nearly enough to make you jerk your hand away. Nearly, but not quite. Your father had held your hand when you had died. You had to hold hers. “You need to come back,” you said, your tone not unlike the one that your father had used before he had released your hand to return you to this world, to the living. You leaned in. “Stupid. If you’re ready to…” You swallowed thickly, feeling a lump in your throat. “If you’re ready to go, you can let go.” These words you had said in the past with your allies. The next ones you had not. “But if you’re not, I’m here. You aren’t alone, I’m here with you...for as long as you need. For as long as you can fight.” Your voice cracked when you tried to speak again, tears spilling down your face. "No matter what, you're not wrong. You're not alone. I'm here, I promise."

It was not very much longer that you sat there holding onto her hand until the Force gave its final answer. Her hand fell limp, her pulse fading away completely. You ground your teeth together. Anger welled up inside of you. Turning your head, however, you saw proof that the Force was capable of saying more than just no. Ap'lek's chest rose and fell steadily without the assistance of the machines. Ushar was nodding as one of the physicians spoke. They had all moved on, you realized, not because they did not care for Aris. They had entrusted her to you, had given you privacy and called your name only on the occasions that you had started to succumb to despair. In the end you had had the right words to say. That was not a position that Kylo could have filled, nor was it one he wanted.

Life would not pause for you to properly mourn the young pantoran just as it had never done so in the past when you had lost your Resistance allies on the battlefield. It was slightly kinder in this instance, permitting you the opportunity to sit with her body until the physicians pulled you away so that they could do their job. Such a cold thing, what occurred in these durasteel walls. She would be taken to a furnace, would be burned. You exited medbay with a buzzing sensation assaulting your mind and along your spine. You returned to the quarters that you shared with Kylo alone. Walked into the refresher and collapsed against the door, sliding down its frame and staring at the cat concealed by the toilet.

She did not slink over to you until after a full cycle had passed, during which time you had exited the refresher on only three occasions. The first had been when Kylo had insisted you eat and rest. The second when Ap’lek had regained consciousness. The third had been to assist him in walking to Kylo’s quarters and with you into the refresher. He had been there on the mission from the Resistance, had seen who the girl had been before you had put the knife into her hands. As Navrin, he had worked to protect those children from the First Order. It was Ap’lek that you believed, albeit reluctantly, when he said that you had not done this to Aris.

Millicent crawled over to the pair of you. She brushed her head along your hand then tentatively sniffed at Ap’lek’s hand. He was not fit for combat according to the physicians; first he would be required to undergo a series of physical therapy sessions. Not that there was much to do in the meanwhile--Kylo Ren had sent reconnaissance parties at the locations of the other two planets that had appeared most frequently on the list alongside Naboo. This would serve as confirmation and the counterstrike could begin. Though the Order of Ren had been successfully in dismantling the weapon that had destroyed Naboo, not a one of you were underestimating the might of the First Order nor the resourcefulness of its Supreme Leader. You tugged Millicent into your lap, feeling her squirm before she settled down.

“It was easy to blame you when Kylo died.” You turned your head to consider Ap’lek. He was staring at the cat. “You’re blaming yourself partly because you don’t want to blame the others. Why didn’t the doctors do more? Why didn’t Kylo order them to put her into the bacta tank? Why did the Force do this?” You averted your gaze and clenched your jaw. Ap’lek took a heavy breath. He raised his arms, crossing them behind himself and resting his head on them. “You need to consider that maybe it has nothing to do with you at all. That you need to stop asking those questions.”

Maker, you wanted to...what? Punch him? Cry? Your mind was simultaneously emotional and emotionally drained. The cat you were holding began to pur, which you knew to be for self-soothing purposes in this case.

“It would have happened without you there. It’s not about whether you’re hurting or not. It was her life.”

“She threw it away!”

“Says you,” Ap’lek intoned. “You’ll never know what she felt about it. That’s what bothers you. Maybe she was ready to be free of that pain. You told her she could, that you were there for her regardless, didn’t you? All that’s left, it’s your pain. You are turning her death into your choice, into something that defines you.” You opened your mouth to argue. “You can hurt. Just...stop. Cry. I don’t care.” You released Millicent and allowed her to scramble back to the toilet where she could hide. “She was a child, and she did more for this war that some of the adults here. She had a vision and she followed through, aware on at least some level of what the risks were. Aris had seen death. What she did was stupid.

“She could have spoken with Kylo. But she didn’t. Somehow that still allowed us to get hold of that chip. If she had been an adult, we would call her a hero, a martyr. Because she was a child, it’s a greater tragedy.” Ap’lek leaned over, wincing at the discomfort of the movement, and knocked into you. “You held her hand in her final moments. She may not have been conscious. She was fading into the Force, slipping away. Probably scared. But she knew that she was not alone, and you let her know that it was okay to let go. She did not have to fight that losing battle just to prove something. She did not have to cling to pain or misery. It was not you choosing to let her die. It was not the physicians or Kylo choosing to let her die. It was everyone being fully aware that her surviving was nothing more than prolonged suffering. Even if you cared, it was the selfish part of you that wanted her to remain. Admitting that was not wrong.” You bit down on your lip. “I could hear you. I heard a lot of what was said in medbay when I was in the bacta tank and then after I was out.”

His hand stroked along your head, down your neck and to your shoulder. He held you in a loose embrace that you melted into, curling your body against his though careful so as to not cause him pain. The bitterness and hurt of Aris’s death did not disappear entirely, however it lessened in its intensity. You knew that what Ap’lek was telling you was the truth, and the words he used were not dissimilar to ones that Ip had told you when you had trained with the splinter cell of the Resistance. These facts transcended war. They were of the balance between life and death, both of which were mysterious, kind, and cruel.

“You’re my favorite Knight of Ren,” you murmured against him. His thumb skimmed back and forth along your shoulder. You rolled your eyes as he referred to you as super tooke. “I want to celebrate her life and the victory she has given us.” You were determined that this next mission meet with success. Aris had seen the importance of her going to the First Order in a vision. You wanted more than anything to believe in her, in the Force, in these decisions that had, as Ap’lek stated, nothing to do with you--not aside from you being a player in the same war. “I was so scared that I would lose both of you.”

“You still might,” he said in a rather chipper tone. Your eyes bulged and you twisted around quickly, jarring him so that he winced. “Not a funny joke.” You could have laughed, you could have cried. Instead you uttered nonsensical sounds that had him chuckling. Kylo’s footsteps on the other side of the door helped to sober the both of you. His return meant that the scouts had reported back. Ap’lek would rest and you would, hopefully, be joining Kylo on the next mission to fight against the First Order. You wanted more than ever to eliminate the monster known as Armitage Hux.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #three blind tooke #death is an art

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coveredinsweetpea · 5 years

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A hook up || Zach Dempsey

Summary: Y/n and Zach hook up at a party and she gets pregnant.

A/n: Requested by anon, this is officially the first zach fic I've ever written. Also, I didnt edit. I will. Soon. I hope.

Warning: I suck at angst. It could have turned out way sadder than it did, but the topic of unexpected pregnancy scares the shit out of me, so I couldn't dive too deep. Hope it's still good.

The bass was too loud. Around you, everything was a blur. People were bumping into you from all sides, but a strong pair of hands kept you in place. Zach, as bad at dancing as he was, did his best to match up to your moves, swaying a bit from side to side. He chuckled continuously and looked down at you in awe, not missing any chance to bring his body even the tiniest bit closer to yours. Electric sparkles tickled the inside of your chest, as under Zach's stare, you were just a pile of mush. You have always been. You met him at the beginning of freshman year and had this stupid crush on him ever since. It was his posse and ridiculously popular group of friends that kept you from trying to get to know him, but tonight, they didnt exist to them. Since the party started, he never, not even for one second looked at you without smiling. As dizzy and lost in the moment as you were, you tried to think whether he was this attracted to you just in this setting. Imagines of him at school, quietly munching on his healthy and way too big lunch, or him rolling his eyes at whatever his friends had just said, popped into your mind and you burst into a fit of giggles.

"Hey, gorgeous" his voice broke the barrier between your mind and reality. He bent down and looked you straight in the eyes as he spoke, "Everything ok?"

You held his gaze. And maybe you did it for a second too long, but you were done for. Every little bit of your body was burning with emotion and words simply refused to come together and align themselves into decent sentences. "No, yeah!" you mumbled eventually, and shook your head in embarrassment, "I'm fine, everything's fine"

His left hand traveled up your back as he turned and pointed to the back door, "Need some fresh air?"

Bless his heart, he was clueless to the moon and back, but at the same time, as sweet as it gets. Instinctively, you nodded yes, and Zach took your hand, slowly guiding you outside. Somewhere on your path, you saw out of the corner of your eye the stairs that led to the bedroom, and on impulse, you strengthened your hold on his hand and pulled him back.

Losing his balance for a second, he frowned, "You ok?"

Answering never even crossed your mind. Clasping your palms against his cheeks, you pushed yourself up on your tip toes, and much to your surprise, your lips met his halfway. He kissed better than you thought he would. Actually better than you thought possible, and it drove you wild. His manners went right out the window as he bit into your lower lip with burning passion and grabbed your hips, lifting you off the ground. As you held onto his neck, the kiss got more and more avid. He was hungry, and this all felt like teasing. He couldn't get enough, his tongue went deeper, his lips got more aggressive, his hands lost all inhibitions but he didnt know any signs of stopping any time soon. And you were fine with it. So fine that you let out a lewd moan, causing him to break the kiss.

"I wanna hear you moan again" he whispered. His chest raced up and down, his lips were swollen and droplets of sweat ran down a few strands of hair that had fallen onto his forehead, but what you loved the most was the fifthly red tint that covered his cheeks in patches.

"Try all you want" you giggled, "But I'm not gonna moan just by looking at you"

His lips parted as he shook his head, laughing.

"Let me correct that" you belted, "I might moan just by looking at you but-"

"Like me that much, huh?" he smirked proudly and when you rolled your eyes, he took a few steps forward, slamming your back into the wall. He went straight for your neck, biting with force into your skin. His warm lips soothed the spots his teeth had just sank into, and he traveled all the way down to your collar bone, making the pressure between your legs turn unbearable.

"Think we can find an empty room?" you panted into his ear.

"You sure?" he moaned, slowly raising his head so his eyes could meet yours. His words were sweet and his intentions pure, but the lust that rolled off his stare simply said something else.

Not one second was needed for you to reply as you send Zach an eager nod, which prompted him to straighten his hold around your frame and start carrying you up the stairs. He seemed unable to distance himself from you and unwilling to let you catch your breath.

Just when you started to lose yourself again into his kiss, your back slammed against a door, which thankfully swung open pretty easily, and before you knew it, you were laying on your back, on a bed you've never been in before, in the house of a person whose name you didnt even know, and with the captain of the football team on top of you.

"Lock the door" you panted, grabbing his cheeks to pull him away from you.

Zach smirked and licked his lips, "What? Don't like the risk?"

"If someone walks in-" you started but he cut you off.

"Just teasing you" he laughed, sinking his face into the crook your neck. "You should probably get used to it"

"Oh, should I!?" you exclaimed amused, pushing him off of you.

Shaking his head with laughter, Zach took a few steps back and towards the door, locking it twice, "Just to be sure"

"Come here" you giggled, extending your arms to welcome him back into your hold.

That dangerous smirk creeped up on his lips again, as he walked to the edge of the bed and and took his sweet time unbuckling his belt. The metal clinking combined with the sound the the leather rushing against his jeans, set your core ablaze.

The second his lips met yours again, there was no going back. He was filled with that specific kind of hunger which makes you feel on edge no matter what. His hips rubbed against yours as his strong hands roamed your sides. Unwilling to wait anymore, you took initiative and guided your right hand between your body, easily pushing past his undone jeans to grab his cock. The contact forced a loud moan to slip past his lips, before he gritted his teeth shut and decided to see where you were going with this. It was nice while it lasted, as all you managed to do before he took his dominat role, was to give him a few rubs.

After helping you out of your clothes, he pressed you down on your stomach, kissing your back all the way down from behind your ear lobe and down to the end of your spine. Planting his palms on either side of your head, you arched your back and perched your ass upwards, craving contact.

Zach placed his hand on your waist and gently rolled you onto your back, "Wanna see that beautiful face"

With your cheeks red, you smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips. As he bent down to kiss you again, he positioned himself at your entrance, going in ever so gently. A hurricane of butterflies erupted inside your stomach, and despite usually going for something a little bit more rough, but this time, you were all for enjoying the moment. Eventually, the situation escalated up the point where you were a mess, moaning uncontrollably as Zach worked his hips against you at a more than satisfying pace. Sweat droplets ran down his forehead, as he frowned struggling to last as much as he could. Biting his lower lip, his eyes where squeezed shut, as the air left his lungs menacingly fast through his nose.

"I'm so close" you panted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him against your chest.

"Cum for me" he groaned, burying his face into your neck. His rhythm picked up and everything became a sweet blur as he sent you spiraling over the edge. It must've come as a relief for him as he finished soon after.

Zach helped you get cleaned up, insisting you wait on the bed. Butt naked, he walked into the bathroom connected to the room you were in, and returned with a damp washcloth.

After you got cleaned up, you knew it was time to leave, but not one single part of you was too happy about it. Just when you started you get up, Zach leaned down and grabbed your wrist.

"Where're you going" he asked you, as he layed on his back with his head turned to you.

"Was gonna go get dressed" you mumbled, pointing to the pile of clothes on the floor.

"Oh" he sighed, "Oh, ok-". He seemed taken aback, and fankly, a bit disappointed. "I thought you maybe wanted to hang a bit?"

You hesitated and giggled, as your heart rushed into overdrive.

"Only if you want, though!" Zach hurried to clarify, pulling the duvet up his abdomen as he sat up.

"Sure" you smiled and gave him a faint nod. A smirk appeared on his lips and as you got back under the covers, he leaned all the way over to the foot of the bed and grabbed his shirt.

"Put this on"

"I'd much rather take you jersey, but this will do" you laughed, causing him to roll his eyes.

A little bit of time passed, and before you knew it, you were taking awkward selfies together, trying hard to contain your laughter everytime Zach tried another random snapchat filter.

"You're amazing" he said cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss.

It all felt so sweet, it was hard to believe it was real. That night, you refused to think about how you would act around each other in school, but on Monday morning, this beautiful dream you felt you were living, resumed.

As you rummaged through your stuff, you heard a loud crash and turned to see Zach, leaning against the locker next to yours, barely able to contain a wide smile.

"Hey gorgeous" he grinned, but his eyes suddenly shifted in color.

"Morning" you giggled, closing your locker, "What's up?"

"Can we talk?" he asked, "Outside? For just a little bit"

"'Course"

You followed him to one of the benches in the school yard, and had a little chat. If you liked him before, now you were head over heels. He explained how he had a crush on you for the past few months, and admitted that hooking up at a party wasn't the way he wished to start things with you. Feeling comfortable enough to open up, you told him you felt the same way about him, and your talk ended with you two deciding to take things slow, with no commitments, until you got to know each other better.

What followed after this, were probably some of the most rewarding days of your high school experience. You two texted every night and had lunch together, he sometimes drove you home after you patiently watched him train at the school gym. Things were going fantastic until one notification on your phone made your heart stop. You checked the calendar and felt your eyes well up with tears. Still wearing your pyjamas, you rushed outside the house and ran to the closest pharmacy only to confirm your biggest fear. When the pregnancy test came back positive, you didn't feel like leaving that bathroom ever again. How you managed to be so reckless would always be a mystery, but the damage was done and if there was anything you learned in the last two years, was that nothing can turn back time.

Ever since finding out, you avoided Zach. Gave him short, blunt and negative answers, and always found an excuse to be as far away from him as possible. 3 days had passed, and you were getting more and more scared. You refused to tell anyone because you knew they'd all point you in Zach's direction. There was no way you could look into his eyes. You were filled with shame, and didn't want him to see you like this.

Much to your dismay, this didn't last long. It didn't take much time for him to realise you were hiding something, and he didn't want to repeat his past mistakes. Eventually you agreed to sit down and talk, and one day after school, he drove to the edge of a cliff. You two settled on the grass under a tree, and silence followed.

He didn't want to push you, but his eyes wouldn't leave yours and that put a lot of pressure on you. It was painfully obvious he cared, and it make everything ten times more difficult.

"Listen" Zach sighed, "Whatever it is, whatever happened, you know I won't judge you, right? No matter what"

You tried to nod, but a lump in your throat made you cough out a faint whine, moments before tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he whispered, hurrying to wrap his arms around you, "It's ok, it's ok, (Y/n). You're ok"

You stayed in his hold for quite a long while. None of you said anything and he refused to let go of you until you stopped shaking.

You straightened your back and fixed your eyes on a street lamp behind him. Taking a deep breath of air, you spoke, "I'm pregnant"

"Oh" was all he managed to mumble. You saw him look down at your stomach as he remained silent.

"It's ok" you sighed, "I'm not too happy about it either"

"This is why you've been avoiding me?" he asked softly, "You shouldn't-"

"Oh, spare me" you cut him off, sending your arms flying up in despair, "I don't need you to be all sweet and understand with me right now, Zach. This is by far the dumbest thing-"

"Hey, stop, ok?" he argued, "Why are you so mad at yourself, it's not like-"

"Not like what?" you yelled, "Tell me Zach, it's not like what?"

He sighed. Despite having a lot to say, you weren't giving him a chance. His eyes were darker and you couldn't read him. At all. Was he mad about it? Was he disappointed in you? In the fact you didn't feel comfortable coming to him from the beginning? One thing was clear, he wasn't good with words, and it showed.

"Listen" he eventually said, placing his hand on your knee reassuringly, "What's done is done, and whatever you decide to do, I'm here and I support you"

"How could I be so stupid?" you grunted, annoyed with yourself beyond words.

"Hey, this isn't all on you. It's my fault too, at least as much as it is yours-"

"This isn't your fault" you shook your head.

"It my dick" Zach shrugged, "Should've wrapped it up"

"That was the last thing on my mind, Zach"

"Same" he nodded, "But there's no point getting mad over what we did or didn't do. We can't change it. You need to make a decision, and I'm here to back you up. That's all there is to be done right now"

"A decision..." you chuckled bitterly as another tear rolled down your cheek, "I don't have that much of an option"

"Yeah, you do" he countered, "You always do"

"There's no way I can get an abortion, I can't afford it so that's out of the question. Also-" you sighed and paused for a second, "I can't tell my parents, they'll kill me. My only option is running away from home"

Zach's eyes grew wide before his eyebrows fell into a frown, "Not at all what I meant. First, you need to choose if you want to keep the baby, or not."

"I don't know" you confessed.

"Look" he said and grabbed your hands, "I'm not gonna force you to make a decision right now. But don't be afraid to tell me once you do"

"Ok" you nodded faintly.

"And screw the money. I'll pay for anything you need"

"No, you won't"

"Yes, (Y/n), I will"

"Why are you so nice?" you asked, "I thought you wouldn't want to see me ever again"

"Why would you think that?" he asked, and he definetly looked hurt by your accusation, "What kind of an asshole would do that?"

"I don't know... I'm sorry"

"Plus" he smiled, "I really, really like you, so-"

"Zach.." you laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you"

"No need, beautiful" he said, and leaned in to kiss your forehead, "Really, don't worry. We'll get through this together"

"I don't know what I'd do without you"

"You don't have to think about that, ok?" he reassured you, helping you stand up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the top of your head as he held you close to his chest. "I'm here, and you're ok"

"Thanks" you whispered, and turned around in his hold to lay your head against his shoulder.

"You are-" he said and kissed your forehead, "Absolutely welcome"

"Do you need to get home right away?"

"No, why?" he shook his head.

"There's this cafe that makes killer pancakes and thought maybe you want to check it out?"

"If you ever doubt how much I like you-" Zach laughed, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the car, "Remember I took a cheat day for you"

"We can get salads?" you joked.

"What kind of losers would we be?" Zach countered, "We're getting pancakes and I'm buying"

"No, you're not" you argued as you prepared to get into the car.

Zach head popped up from the other side of the hood and he looked you dead in the eye, "I have a little sister, ok? You just cried in front of me, of course I'm getting you chocolate"

"I don't deserve you" you laughed, settling on the passengers seat.

"Yeah, you do" Zach countered as soon as he got inside too. "You really do"

#zach dempsey imagine #zach dempsey #13 reasons why #13 rw imagine #13 rw #13rw #13 reasons imagine #13 reasons why imagine #zach dempsey fanfic #zach Dempsey angst

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huntertales · 4 years

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Part One: Unwanted House Guest. (Devil May Care S09E01)

Episode Summary: In the aftermath of the fall, Sam and the reader are taken by surprise when they learn Crowley is still alive--and stuffed in the trunk of the Impala. A temporary situation before the reader and the Winchesters relocate him to the Men of Letters dungeon. Kevin is anything but enthusiastic about seeing the king of hell under the same roof as him. However the three hunters want the demon close, hoping Crowley will provide useful information about others of his kind. Meanwhile, Abaddon re-emerges and plans to take over hell. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,098.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You knew better than anyone that if things seem bad, it could always be worse. Somehow it always managed to get to that point for you. The months you spent trying to close the gates of hell turned out to be more complicated than you lead yourself to believe. Heaven was in shambles and you had your own personal business you were trying to push off from thinking about for long as possible. The best way to do that was to sleep. You managed to get a few extra hours after the stop for gas, when you woke up you discovered you were almost back to Lebanon. Dean wanted to hit up a rest stop after driving all night to get some fresh air and take the opportunity to stretch your legs. Nothing like taking in the sight of nature to help ease one’s troubled mind.

While you and the boys enjoyed the mostly empty scenery, you were able to catch each other up on the events that unfolded while you were both away doing your own thing. You couldn’t be sure if Dean had learned anything from his brother over the two days you spent at the hospital. All of you had been dealing with...unexpected events. You wouldn’t have put it past Sam if he didn’t want to talk about what happened that night.

Dean told you the reason why he was called away from helping with the demon trials after Cas appeared out of nowhere needing his assistance with something big—shutting the pearly gates of heaven big. It was connected to the angels dropping out of the sky. The poor bastard was tricked into doing a series of trials like you had completed in the span of a few months, only it took him one night. He thought this was going to fix up heaven and turn it back into a place like how he wanted. Cas had gotten some help from Metatron, an angel the four of you thought was one of the good guys. Turned out he was a selfish dick like the rest of his siblings.

The supposed trials that Cas had done that night turned out to be a spell. He had gotten every ingredient that Metatron had needed, except for the most crucial one of all: an angel’s grace. Instead of wasting his time trying to find someone vulnerable enough to extract it from, Metatron went for someone who had been useful to him. Cas was drained of all his grace and thrown down to earth with the rest of his siblings. You didn’t know if the rest of the angels were weak as him. You knew for sure that an angel needed their grace, it’s what powers them up. Without it they were like the rest of humanity. Powerless. Useless.

“So, what,” You made your way back to the picnic table to take a seat next to Sam to continue the conversation with the boys about the angel who once was. “Cas is human?”

“Ish. I mean, he's got no grace, no wings, no...harp, whatever the hell else he had.” Dean told you of the unfortunate news of how your best friend was affected from the fall and the part he played in it. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position when he saw the overwhelmed expression on your face from how everything seemed to be unraveling all at once.

“Okay.” Sam wasn’t exactly positive on how Cas could handle himself against his siblings that were trying to hunt him down and seek a little revenge after being cast down to earth. Who knew how vulnerable Cas was with all of his grace gone. If it made him human like the rest of you, he was going to have to deal with things he never experienced before. Hunger, thirst. The need to sleep. Basic instincts that were going to be all new to him. You wondered if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to find the guy before he could somehow get into even more trouble than he already was “Where did he crash land?”

“Called me from a pay phone from Longmont, Colorado.” Dean said. “I told him just to make for the bunker.”

“Well, you think he can handle a road trip like that?” You shared your concern for letting the angel travel alone with everything unfolding.

“Well, Cas is a big boy. Things go Breaking Bad, he knows our number.” Dean reassured your worried mind about the potential threat to your friend’s safety. Cas had a target painted on his back, but it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. He always managed to come out of this unscathed. “Right now we have bigger worries.”

“The fallen angels?” You wondered if that’s what he was hinting around.

“Yeah.” Dean said. “I mean, thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around down here.”

Sam couldn’t help himself when he let out a chuckle from the newest problem that fell into your lap. “What do you think they’re gonna do?”

“I got no damn clue.” Dean muttered.

"What about Crowley?" You asked about the demon you had almost forgotten all about. Your mind had been so wrapped up in trying to catch up on the things you had missed out on, you didn’t realize you had left the king of hell chained up back at the church. You wondered if he was still there. “Did you…” You gave the oldest Winchester a curious expression as you mimicked slitting your throat with your index finger, wondering if he killed the demon once and for all.

“I would’ve loved nothing better than to ice that limey bitch.” Dean admitted to you. You gave him a slightly confused look as to why he didn’t do that in the first place. He pushed himself closer to the edge of the picnic table and told you the ulterior motive he had to keep the demon still breathing. “But then I thought to myself, ‘What would Y/N Y/L/N do’?”

“Easy.” You answered the hypothetical question without hesitation. So easy and casual from the things you were discussing. “I would’ve stabbed him in the brain.”

“Oh.” Dean was a little surprised at your violent response. Normally it was him who liked to pull the trigger and dispose of the monster without question, not wanting to deal with the headache it would bring later on. You and Sam liked to think of a logical standpoint, which was what the older man did in this situation. He thought what benefit Crowley might bring if you kept him around for a little while longer. Considering how the demon helped you out a few times in the past, he might do it again with a little persuasion. “Well, I figured the king of hell might know a few things, so why not ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ his ass?”

“Wait.” You pushed yourself up from the table and back to your feet when the boys did as well, following them to the back of the parked Impala several feet away. “So Crowley is alive?”

Dean answered your question by unlocking the trunk and opening it up, revealing someone you thought was long dead by now. Even Sam was surprised to see the king of hell himself and the circumstances he landed himself in; handcuffed and quiet with a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep him from attracting any unwanted attention. “He’s the junk in my trunk.”

You placed your hands on your hips and stared down at the demon from the vulnerable state he was in. A smirk creeping at the ends of your lips when you realized he was still at your mercy. You were tempted to take a picture to mock the demon for the predicament he got himself in. However you knew he wasn’t going to live longer than you needed him. For now you enjoyed his humiliation for the sake of your own entertainment. All the crap he put you through over the years, how powerful he thought he was, and this was what came of the demon. And it was only the beginning for what you had in store for him.

+ + +

A few more hours and you were back in Lebanon and pulled up into the place you had been calling home over the past several months, the bunker. It felt like years since you'd been back here. The sight made a comforting ease wash over you. You could unwind and catch your breath from the past few days. The first thing you were going to do after you got Crowley settled in was taking a shower to unwind your aching muscles and digest everything. Dean busied himself with checking up on the prophet he abandoned over the past few days without even a call to update the kid on the reasons why all of you were gone longer than expected. Along with the news that sat in the back of his mind.

Dean made his way inside the bunker while you and Sam took care of getting your guest out of the trunk without much fuss. You made sure to go the extra mile to make sure to keep Crowley from knowing your whereabouts. The bunker might have been warded against all evil and monsters, still didn't mean there would be trouble waiting outside your front door if demons even caught a whiff of where you lived. Patience was a virtue anyone could have if it meant they could kill the enemy once and for all.

The older Winchester managed to take a few steps inside before he found himself being attacked in his own home. He saw something move from the corner of his eye and land directly not too far from where he was standing. It took him a few seconds to figure out there was an arrow sticking out from the handrail not too far from where he stood. Dean walked forward to the ledge and broke the wooden arrow off. His brow furrowed in confusion from who could have done it. Someone who had no sense of aim, that’s who.

“What the hell?" Dean muttered to himself just loud enough for his voice to echo through the quiet air.

His words drifted down to the lower level of the bunker and to the library where Dean heard what sounded to be ruckus, causing his eyes to wander over to a sight that he wasn't expecting to see. It seemed Kevin had grown paranoid while you and the boys were gone. It was him who had shot the arrow at Dean from the comfort of his hideout. One of the tables was overturned to its side and a barricade of books for some kind of added measure for his safety. Kevin stood up with a crossbow in hand. It explained the unexpected attack, but not enough for Dean to understand why the kid went to such great lengths to keep himself safe.

"Dean?" Kevin sounded surprised at the sight of the oldest Winchester standing on top of the staircase. After everything that happened over the past few days Kevin wouldn't have put it past himself if he started hallucinating a familiar face in some kind of attempt to calm himself down. Maybe he was suffering some sort of mental breakdown from the traumatic stress he endured over the past few days. The annoyed expression on the man's face made Kevin realize that it was very much in fact Dean Winchester. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, 'cause you're a crappy shot...Katniss." Dean tossed the arrow to the ground and shook his head at the kid's itchy trigger finger.

"Sorry. It's been a bad couple of days. I-I haven't kept, or eat." Kevin admitted about his well being. Dean made his way down the staircase to meet the kid in the war room, the crossbow still in Kevin's hand as he carried out of the library. He felt a little embarrassed about what he was about to confess, but it was the truth. The things he witnessed…scared the crap out of him. Yet he hadn’t experienced much luck when he tried to relieve himself. "I'm pretty backed up."

“Okay, overshare.” Dean muttered, not really needing to know that little detail.

“After we talked, this place went nuts, all right? There was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out. And the bunker just locked down. I couldn’t open the door. My cell phone stopped working. I thought the world was ending.” Kevin gave the man a glimpse into the catastrophe he witnessed himself on his end. He wanted to believe that he was just going insane, but the look that crossed Dean’s face was easy to read. Nothing good came of it.

“Close.” Dean told the man. “The angels fell.”

“What does that mean?” Kevin asked, not sure if he was supposed to understand.

“Nothing good.” He said, leaving it at that for now. Dean reached for the crossbow to take it out of the prophet’s hand, not sure where he even got it in the first place, and set it down on the table next to them. “Listen, next time the world’s ending, grab a gun.” Kevin stood there for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what the older man meant by fallen angels. Dean shoved his hand inside his pocket for his phone as he took a few steps away from the younger man, wondering if there still wasn't any service. However he saw a full set of bars like he always did. Everything seemed to be running as usual. "I got service."

Kevin went over to the control panel and flipped a switch, powering back up the machine as some lights above turned back on while noises of life came from the panel. He looked around to see that everything had returned back to the way it was before.

"It's back online." Kevin noticed. The Men of Letters machinery and technology was dated back decades, far inferior compared to the advancements of today. However Kevin thought he might have had a slight understanding of what happened and how it all worked. "Maybe when you opened the door from the outside door, it reset the system."

"Yeah, okay, let's go with that." Dean didn't have a single clue what the kid was talking about, so he agreed with whatever came out of his mouth. It sounded smart enough to be right.

Dean looked back up to the staircase when he heard the heavy metal door open and shut, followed along with three pairs of footsteps approaching. You headed down first with Sam following behind you, your temporary houseguest tight in the man’s grip. You slipped a black bag over Crowley's head so he couldn't see anything except pitch black, along with some noise cancelling headphones you found buried in the back of the Impala. You used them a few times when you were learning how to shoot a gun many years ago after you complained about the noise being too loud. Dean gifted them to you to help practice until you adapted and they ended up useless, until today. They made the perfect accessory for Crowley. This way the demon couldn’t hear or see a single thing.

"Hey." Sam stopped halfway down the staircase and called out to his brother.. "We good?"

"Is it ever." Dean said. "Come on."

You joined Dean in heading to the dungeon to set things up for Crowley as Sam dragged your guest down the stairs without too much trouble. While the sight of the demon falling down the steps would have been amusing on your part, you needed him in one piece from the things you were about to ask of him. Whether he wanted to participate or not, you weren’t going to give him much of a choice.You and the boys thought having the king of hell occupying the one place in the entire bunker where he couldn't escape would have been a fool proof plan. Crowley wasn't going anywhere from the devil's trap on the floor along with the handcuffs around his wrists.

However you didn’t seem to ask about how someone else might feel about living under the same roof as the king of hell. The demon who had kidnapped him several times. Who cut off his pinky finger. Who made his life a living hell on earth. Possessed his mother...killed the only family member he had left in this world. Kevin didn’t need to see the face to know who it was. The dread that filled him was enough to put the pieces together on his own.

Sam settled Crowley into a chair you were kind enough to give to the demon for the duration of the stay, however that was going to be. You figured it wasn’t going to be too long from the way he acted at the church. The devil's trap and handcuffs might have been enough to keep the demon in one place, but you went the extra mile when you placed the chain around his neck to stop the demon from doing anything stupid. Dean ripped off the bag from Crowley's head when he was finally settled in, blinding the demon from the floresignt light he wasn't used to seeing. The last to come off was the duct tape still on Crowley’s lips, giving him a chance to speak for the first time in days.

Crowley winced in pain at the feeling of the tape's residue ripping off a few of his facial hairs from his beard. After his eyes adjusted to the light, the demon was welcomed by the sight of three of his favorite humans. "Hello—” Before the demon could say his usual greeting, Dean cut him off by punching him straight in the face. The punch was unexpected as Crowley let out a slight noise of pain, almost like a groan.

“Never get tired of doing that.” Dean said. He would take every chance he could get to punch the demon in his face. He threw the bag to a corner of the dungen and stepped back, joining you and Sam for the little talk you were about to have.

Crowley took a moment to look around the place after discovering he was finally out of the trunk of the Impala and given a chance to stretch his legs. The sight was a little on the duller side for his personal taste from the concrete walls and shades of grey. But when Crowley discovered all sorts of torture devices to his right, the demon’s interest perked up in curiosity. “Homey. Where did you get this fantastic little tree house?”

“All right, here’s how it’s gonna go.” Sam spoke up, bringing the demon’s attention over to him. You crossed your arms over your chest when you noticed Crowley’s eyes wander to the pad and pencil the younger Winchester was holding. He had a feeling all of you weren’t here to hear about Crowley’s upbringing and rise to power. “You’re giving us the name of every demon on earth and the people they’re possessing.”

“Am I?” Crowley asked. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

"Sam and I saw you break down, Crowley.” You called out the demon on his past behavior that told you a much different story. The night you completed the final trial might have been a blur, but you clearly remembered the revelation you and Crowley had together. What he was willing to do in order to be forgiven from his past mistakes. “When I was trying to cure you, I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is."

"Blah-blah. Boo-hoo. Done?" Crowley raised his brow from the touching moment you were trying to have with him. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from the way he was acting. It meant he was back to his arrogant self. Not a care in the world for anyone but himself. "Good. 'Cause this is what I know. I'm not giving you anything. You have no leverage, darlings. You're not gonna close the gates of hell because you didn't. You're not gonna kill me because you haven't. So, what's left?"

“We have a few ideas.” You reassured the demon.

“Torture? Brillant. Can’t wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier really putting the S-A-M into S-and-M.” Crowley must’ve thought he was hilarious from the smile that settled to the edges of his lips. A joke that was too easy to make. "Honestly, Kitten, what are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?”

Psychical torture was the first thing that crossed Crowley's mind. It was something that, if done properly, would have made the toughest of demons talk. The three of you had your fair share done to you. Sam spent God knows how long in the cage being a personal toy for Michael and Lucifer, Dean learned everything about the craft from Alistair. Not to mention you had enough inflicted upon you to learn how to break someone. Much as you would have enjoyed slicing Crowley up, you had better things to do than try and crack him. You didn't need to hurt someone to break them down. Hell, you didn’t have to lift a finger.

You didn't waste the effort to respond to Crowley. Instead, you made your way to the door as the boys followed behind, showing the demon about what his punishment was going to be if he didn't cooperate. They slid the shelves back into place as Dean told the demon to have fun. You snickered to yourself as you flicked off the lights and slammed the door shut when all of you stepped out into the hall. The demon was alone all by himself in complete darkness. He was so used to having demons waiting at his beck and call, fearing about what sort of punishment would be inflicted upon them if they didn’t do their very best for their king. Now he was in time out. Maybe a little solitude from any kind of contact was what Crowley needed.

You made your way back to the library to see the mess that you had walked into was cleaned up by Kevin. The table was put back to normal and all the books on the floor were now properly back on the shelf. You were about to ask the kid about how he was handling himself from the dishelieved appearance, obviously having a bad few days himself. Before you could get the words out, Kevin was bombarding you with some questions of his own. You didn't seem to think about how Crowley's stay wasn't going to settle well with Kevin.

“What’s Crowley doing here? Why isn’t he dead?!” Kevin yelled at you and the boys when you made your way into the library. You understood that he was upset about what you had done, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with his attitude. You were up to your eyeballs in stress, among other things you really didn’t want to think about. “Why aren’t you stabbing him right now?!”

"All right, all right. Chill out, Kevin, okay?" Dean told the kid. "We need him."

“What?” Kevin hissed at all of you, sounding nothing short of confused at the reason why you would do something so stupid as to trust a demon to tell the truth.

"Kevin, look,” Sam tried to explain best as he could for him to understand your reasoning, “if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we can hunt them down—all of them."

"He will break, okay? And when he does, we'll hold him down while you knife him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers." Dean reassured the prophet about your plan, along with the happy ending to all of this once Crowley gave you what you wanted. Kevin wasn’t convinced.

“Just stay away from him, all right?” You told him. “Pretend like he’s not here.”

Kevin rolled his eyes from your crappy advice that that wasn't going to help his nerves. He knew there was no way he was going to get you to budge on moving the king of hell elsewhere, it was him who was going to have to adjust. Much as it was going to pain him. “So, now what?”

“I got to make some phone calls. You need to hit the angel tablet, see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out heaven.” Dean instructed the prophet, giving him one task that only he could handle.

“Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God squad does too much damage.” Sam said.

"If we're lucky. All right, check the net for anything angel-y." Dean instructed you and his brother, figuring the best way to start on tackling the disaster was by finding a lead and going from there.

"Or demon-y." Sam added on.

"Or monster-y. Or ghost-y. Or..." Dean listed off everything else you normally looked for when you searched the internet for a possible case. Not only was heaven in disarray, you still had to deal with the aftermath of hell and a knight on the hunt for a new meatsuit after you set her old one up into flames. She was most likely planning her revenge on you, waiting for the moment to peel your flesh off the bone. Dean let out a sigh from the trouble coming your way. "It's gonna be a busy year."

"I need a drink." You muttered to yourself. You rubbed your eyes from the stress that seemed like it was never gonna end. Everything was happening so fast, faster than your brain could process. "Sammy, I'll help you in a little while. I just want to shower. Maybe make a call myself. See if we can't get an extra set of hands looking around for us."

“You think of calling up Josh?” Dean asked you. He tried to make his voice sound like he was curious about finding out the person you wanted to get into contact with, in some kind of attempt to hide the heistantance of bringing him involved. There was too much going on. He couldn’t handle another person interfering in his life right now, having to explain the same story that didn’t get any easier saying. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

“He’s helped us before in the past with these kinds of things. We need him more than ever.” You said. You made your way over to the mini fridge Dean bought a week after you officially decided you were staying here on a long term trial. You opened it up and grabbed a beer without a second thought, not realizing how strange the sight was to the three men. You twisted off the top and took a swing, the alcoholic taste was more refreshing than you had realized it was going to be. “God, feels like it’s been months since I’ve had a drink.”

You made your way to your own bedroom with the neck of the beer between your fingertips as your other arm rested against your side, not realizing the sight was off putting for someone who still thought you were...still progressing in some things. You let your mind linger on the things that were more important at the moment: how were you going to fix heaven and send all the angels back upstairs. Figure out where the hell Cas was and if he was okay. Learn how to kill a knight of hell. And on top of it all, somehow try and find a way to make Crowley chatty. Like how he had gotten back at the church. You had a feeling if you asked him anything in that moment, he would have told you without an ounce of hesitance.

All though the past several days had been a bit blurry, you vividly remembered how Crowley had gotten as you neared the end of the injections of human blood. He displayed emotions you had never seen out of a demon before. Regret. Guilt. He wanted to confess his greatest sins if it made him be freed from the burden of his past mistakes. The secret desire to be loved. You felt a sense of empathy for him in that moment. Both of you wanted the same thing. To be freed from your past, to be loved for who you were. All you wanted was to do the right thing. And even then...you screwed it all up. Like you always did. You hurt the ones you loved the most.

You didn’t realize you had started to cry when you felt something wet roll down your cheeks, making you reach a hand up and quickly wipe away the tears escaped without a chance for you to stop them. For the first time you were alone and left to come to terms with the reality of your grim situation. You were pregnant. Past tense. No longer. Every single time you thought about it made your heart feel like someone was stabbing it with a knife. You wanted to sink down to the floor and let yourself feel every emotion that had been brewing in the back of your mind since Dean told you the news. Much as you tried to bury it down and pretend like it didn’t exist, there was no denying it anymore.

There was no way to change past and undo all of this from happening. You didn't know if that helped or hurt the situation, knowing there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You guessed it left you with two options to handle the situation.Sit and wallow in self pity, wonder where you went wrong. Ponder on the thought of death for the sacrifice of closing the gates of hell for good. Or you could do what you always did. Suck it up and shove your feelings down. Focus on what mattered most.

You inhaled a deep breath and remind yourself that, while it was sad for what you went through, you were only six weeks along. Women have it much worse when it comes to this kind of stuff. They to endure the trauma of expecting a child and losing them. The excitement they had, the sensation of knowing they were carrying a new life, was gone just like that. For the first time in your life, you got lucky when it came to dealing with the trauma. At least, that's what you were telling yourself to get through this.

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chrysanthemums-au · 4 years

Text

Season of Chrysanthemums

SUMMARY: Within the outer limits of Corona, Cassandra meets Varian, who seems to be as insubstantial and ethereal as the black rocks. The two lost…forgotten…overlooked (?) souls decide to wander the streets at nightfall in search of ghosts.

Though, as Varian has long since had a connection to the spirits of the departed, how can Cassandra be sure if the alchemist is who he says himself to be?

CHAPTER 2-Fall from Grace

AO3 LINK

“You’re going the wrong way, Cassie,” Varian says, glancing once more at Monty’s sweets shop for the third time in a row. They had been wandering for quite some time, but they had never made it far beyond the patch of flowers on the outskirts of the kingdom.

Chrysanthemums, is what they are called. Varian frowns as he glances at the plethora of flowers that are as nigh abundant as the black rocks that have overtaken Old Corona. From a distance, the blood-red flowers seem almost spider-like, which…is fitting.

Prior to the blizzard, he…had rarely seen them. His dad, well, ever since his mother disappeared—

He had gotten rid of all traces of the accursed flower from their village. Of course, it was easier said than done. If he had ever come across one of those cursed flowers, Quirin would merely avert his eyes.

“In a certain sense, both those flowers and I are the same,” Varian muses, stride not quite meeting with Cassandra. Chrysanthemums symbolize death, and Varian…he is everything that one would not desire their child to be. He cannot fault his beloved father from avoiding his very presence.

Varian, if many from his village are to be believed, is as non-descript as a ghost. With how rarely he leaves his lab buried underneath the foundations of Old Corona, the very sight of him could be seen as an ominous foreboding of tragedies to follow.

And, considering the numerous explosions that follow in his wake…were it not for his affinity for destruction and mayhem, his existence would be that of an old legend—

His very existence…whether it be from the village or his father’s own eyes, is an aberration.

Like the numerous chrysanthemums that have sprung up all over Corona, Varian is as welcome within everyday life as a funeral procession on a sunny day.

Chrysanthemums are often used as funerary flowers and Varian…

He does not wish to follow them, but similarly to that of the black rocks—

They have embedded themselves into his life. Death is as prominent a part to his very being as breathing.

Though, try as he might, he cannot bring himself to care. As he listens to the rhythmic pattern of their footsteps on cobblestone road, he just…does not care. Or at least, that is what he tells himself.

Varian feels as if he is submerged underwater. He does not know where or how this journey will progress, but he will follow where the tides take him.

---

Cassandra is unnerved. The alchemist, he is much too…compliant. He does not speak. Varian…he is eerily observant of everything and nothing.

She feels like he is judging her.

It is a feeling she does not like, but he hasn’t exactly committed any crimes. And so, she continues to bury these feelings.

Still, she glances at him from the corner of her eye—she wishes he would not call her ‘Cass’ or any variation of her name.

They are not friends. They are not acquaintances, and they most certainly are not family. She does not need any friends except for Rapunzel, and she would like to keep it that way. This alchemist…she merely pities him.

It is true that she prefers peace and quiet above all else, but this silence is unfathomable. If it were to continue, Cassandra knows it will drown her.

She stops as she spots…another horrid chrysanthemum. The sight of it makes her blood boil, irrationally so, and she crushes it underneath her boot.

“What the hell are with these flowers,” Cassandra says, frowning. “It’s like the kingdom’s celebrating a second Day of Hearts…and goodness knows we need more than one disgustingly sweet holiday per year.”

Varian is still as he glances up at Cassandra. It occurs to her that for once, he might actually be ‘seeing�� her and not…anything else.

“I’ve never celebrated Day of Hearts,” Varian simply states. His attention is now directed to the now desecrated chrysanthemums.

“Your parents have never put a chocolate egg in your stocking?” Cassandra asks. She’s not surprised, but this is the most she has heard the alchemist talk about himself all evening.

“Wrong holidays, Cassie,” Varian states.

“Again with the nicknames,” Cassandra grumbles to herself. “Oh, shut up, kid. You know what I meant.”

The alchemist smiles, almost fondly, but it seems ill-suited and horribly mismatched on him. “Dad’s too busy to celebrate, but I don’t mind.”

“Your dad, huh? What’s he like?” Cassandra asks, curiosity piqued.

“He’s great,” Varian says. There is a light in his eyes, but it looks sad. Uncertain. He chuckles, but the sound is much too hollow.

Quickening his pace, he walks past Cassandra, and she swears that the curious streak in his hair is glowing. She looks up at the night sky, and for a minute—she cannot help but compare the serene full moon to the sad, broken alchemist.

And as quickly as Varian had spoken about himself, the ever-resilient silence had enveloped the duo once more.

Her mind wanders, and she cannot help but wonder what it is about the alchemist that has her so concerned. He is not the only troubled child in the kingdom. During the time Princess Rapunzel had been whisked away by an evil witch, the king had an iron-hold on Corona. There were many orphaned children before her disappearance, and there were many deaths. The high mortality rate is the one constant of every kingdom, but until Rapunzel had reappeared, executions were abundant.

Cassandra’s dad always shielded her from public executions, but as she grew older, she became more accustomed to them. Corona did not condone witch burnings, but hangings were much too common.

This is a facet of the kingdom the king had buried ever since Rapunzel had returned.

Quite frankly, she does not know if Rapunzel truly knows what the kingdom had been like for the last eighteen years.

Cassandra is a strong believer in punishment and justice, but executing petty criminals over thievery…she does not know how to feel about that. She is not naïve enough to believe there is no hunger or sadness in Corona.

But, the king’s word is law. Cassandra knows this, and she is a firm supporter of the royal family.

She’d never admit this, but she wouldn’t wish a gory end to someone as stupid as the princess’s boyfriend.

Eugene is the worst, but even he doesn’t deserve to be lynched. The thief’s faults outweigh his good points, but if there is one positive to be said—

Were it not for him, the princess would never have returned to the throne. Had he never stolen the crown, Cassandra would have never met Rapunzel.

Of course, she’d never admit this to his face, or anyone else, for that matter. His head is big enough as it is.

Though, as Cassandra thinks of the alchemist, she cannot suppress the sinking realization and bizarrely enough, relief…that he is not what the rumors imply him to be. In another time, in another place, Varian could have been capable of feats beyond her imagining.

However, in this here and now, Varian is nothing.

He is a blank slate, but Cassandra does not know if this is good or bad…for him and the kingdom.

---

The alchemist is apprehensive. He swears they have been walking in circles, but he does not voice his observation—Cassandra is already irritated by their predicament as it is. He does not wish to add onto her growing stress.

Still, a part of him is worried of what Cass would think of this. Surely, she’ll eventually realize he is to blame for their wayward status.

Any misfortune that Varian encountered or anyone that had the bad luck to meet him are all due to him. This is a fact, albeit one that he has grown weary of.

“Hey, kid, Varian—” This is what snaps Varian out of his reverie.

“You’re awfully silent; got something on your mind? He knows the swordswoman is unnerved by his presence. It would be more surprising if she were not, but there is a darkness seeping into his vision.

Varian hesitates, and then…

“Always,” he says. Varian can barely hear her voice. Cassandra…she sounds muffled and far away.

As his vision slowly ebbs away, Varian feels a bone-chilling cold slice through the air like a thin knife. Shadows with bright, glowing eyes—they are always there. Ever present. Vigilant. Watching.

But today, in this time and now, they scare him.

For once, they are not gathered around him. Their mirthless grins and icy, raspy whispers are not directed towards the alchemist.

Instead, they are drawn to the dark-haired woman.

He is not scared for himself, but Cassandra…what is it about her that draws them near?

Varian reaches one hand out towards her, but it is too late. The windows of the store shatter into pieces and his world is enveloped in a dark kaleidoscope of jagged edges and glass.

Cassandra’s voice echoes into the night as she repeatedly yells his name. He manages to catch a glance before falling into the depths of unconsciousness, and that is when she sees her.

The small, blue ghost girl…she is standing behind Cassandra. Her hands are clasped together in a mockery of a prayer. The girl’s eyes are large, and almost pupil-less in her excitement.

Perhaps she is not a ghost like Varian had once thought. This enchanted girl is not a phantom or lost soul, but something more. Something old and dark.

Her grin is far, far too large on her face.

“Good night, my dear moondrop,” she says.

And then…

Nothing.

---

Varian wakes up. But it is not in this ‘here’ and ‘now’. He is nearly overcome by joy when discovering that he is back in Old Corona. Ruddiger is curled up in a tight ball on his pillow, but he knows that this is not where he belongs.

Old Corona had been buried under snow and black rocks. Right now, it is a dream. As much as he’d like to stay, he knows he cannot—not as long as Varian’s father is trapped in amber.

At the moment, he is not a corpse. Quirin is not a suspended corpse buried within a translucent tomb of loathsome crystal. He knows this, but Varian cannot cope with living in such close quarters with one he can see but cannot speak with.

It is almost like how he had felt with his mother.

Varian does not remember much of her. She had left one day with promises to return…but instead, she vanished.

Only empty promises and a broken family were left in her wake.

If there is anything Varian hates more than himself, it is broken promises.

There was nothing left to bury, but Quirin tried. She had always loved apples, from what little his father had told him of her. And so, there is a small patch of earth underneath one of his their apple trees dedicated to her.

The gravestone is chipped and ugly in its imperfections, but it is also beautiful. Had it not been where it was, Varian would have truly believed his mother would one day return. Childishly, he had once believed his dad would be proud of him if he could be the one to find her.

Though, of course, these were merely the musings of a lonely child. As time grew on, Quirin neglected the grave until…it became overrun with weeds and cobwebs. His father could not bear to look at the grave—

It only reminded him of his lost wife.

Back when his dad could look him in the eyes, he’d say Varian was the splitting image of her. Varian thinks this is why Quirin will not exchange more than one or two phrases with him nowadays, or…why he does not spare him a single glance.

The alchemist wishes this to be the answer, but it is but a dream. His mother who loved alchemy and apples, she will never return. And his dad—

Quirin has never uttered these words, but he knows. Varian is well aware he is a disappointment in his father’s eyes. Afterall, Varian is a problem child, as the other villagers are more than eager to gossip.

Though, never to him or his father, of course. Quirin is the village chief, and Varian, well, they are scared of him.

More so than the explosions that follow his every move, more than botched experiments and inventions gone haywire, Varian can—

Varian can see the dead, or at least, that is what the other villagers say.

He, himself, does not know what exactly it is that he sees, but he is self-aware enough to know that they are visions no sane person should witness.

It had started off small. A faint flicker at the corner of his eye, shadowy figures roaming the halls of his home at the dead of night…it was nothing to be concerned with.

“Merely the overactive imagination of a child,” is what his father had always told him. But, they had persisted as they had grown older.

Varian tried his best to ignore them, but by then, it was too late. The damage had already been done, and the village of Old Corona regarded him with fear and contempt.

Rumors circulated that he, himself, was a ghost haunting the village, or more infuriatingly—

A wizard of all things.

Thankfully, his father had never put much stock into the rumors. For that, Varian was grateful. But he knew Quirin did not trust him. From how Quirin would walk on eggshells around him or how he could not look Varian in the eyes, much less be in the same room as him, Varian knew.

His dad was not scared of him. Rather, he was scared for him.

Visions are not normal. Disembodied shadows…are what you’d read about in a childish story.

Quirin had never outright told Varian any of this, but he had seen the pills he’d slip into Varian’s meals. It was clockwork—every morning before heading out into the fields.

And as it was a routine, Varian would toss his breakfast out every morning. He did not want to waste food, but he knew this was not the help he needed.

Varian wished he could be a perfect son; it was what his father deserved.

He wanted to gift his father a sense of normalcy in their lives. But instead, their world was an empty house and filled with the cold, mirthless laughter of silence and forgotten promises.

Involuntary, Varian raises his hand to his eyes and is surprised to find it damp with tears.

He sits down on the floor of his fake house. He stays there for hours and hours until he…is not.

---

Varian awakens to the sight of the concerned swordswoman. It is odd, he thinks, of how much she cares. No one had ever cared for him…not during his previous life, or his supposed afterlife. The sight is as unnerving at the scent of chrysanthemums that have overtaken Corona.

The comparison is gaudy, and tasteless, and macabre, but he feels like a cadaver within a coffin. With how distressed Cassandra appears, he could almost believe this to be a funeral.

He’d nearly believe it too, were it not for the dull pain radiating around his head.

To his surprise, he notices a small tear on the swordswoman’s sleeve. Apparently, Cassandra had used it as a makeshift bandage. It seems that in his fall, Varian had lightly grazed his head.

For a mere, guilty moment, Varian looks away from the swordswoman. She is prickly and chilling, but there is also warmth buried deep inside her. These kindnesses are more than he could ever deserve. He is thankful, but he knows nothing he could ever do would be enough to repay her.

He looks up towards the night sky and is entranced by the moon. It is large, glowing…he feels as if it is beckoning him to follow.

Slowly rising to his feet much to Cassandra’s protests, Varian walks forward. He does not appear to entirely be ‘there’, or present, and Cassandra is concerned for the strange alchemist once more.

She wants to help, but she feels as if she is carrying the weight of heavy lead on her back. Helpless, Cassandra looks on, and sees where it is the alchemist has gone.

Varian.

Varian is going to jump.

Cassandra curses. She had thought it better to traverse high ground as she carried the injured alchemist towards the castle. Ideally, it made for a shorter route, but now more than anything else, she regrets her decisions.

Due to her mistake, he will die.

---

The moon is comforting. Varian had always loved the night, which was just yet another reason as to why he was truly a disappointment. With the absence of sunlight, their fields would not yield any crops.

He knows there is nothing good to come from the absence of light, but it is only in darkness that he can find peace.

Varian’s steps slow to a halt as he looks over the edge. Only, to him, he sees…something. There is a person beckoning to him. Red hair, goggles that look so much like his, only hers are not quite so old and antiquated.

Her face is sun-kissed and covered in freckles. The woman’s eyes are soft as she beckons him to walk forward.

One step, and they will be reunited.

All it will take for Varian to finally achieve happiness is a single second. One quick decision and his journey will finally be over.

He takes in one deep breath, raises one foot over the ledge, but—

---

Cassandra is scared. She is terrified. While she manages to catch Varian in the nick of time, the damage has already been done. She is out of her element. Had she missed him by a single moment, Varian would have shattered into pieces atop the black rocks that have sprung up stories below their feet.

If she failed to catch him, Varian—

He would be as broken as one of the wooden dolls in her childhood. The only difference here is that some cheap glue could piece them back together, but Varian would have been beyond salvation.

She sees the light blue glow of his eyes and the curious hairstreak in his hair, but she does not care in her anger and terror.

The alchemist, he tried to end his own life, and Cassandra…she was powerless to stop him. Just a slip of the hand, and he would have been gone.

Cassandra grits her teeth as she looks down at Varian. He is crumpled on the ground, his wrist still clasped tightly in her hand. His glove has shifted slightly to reveal skin marred with bruises.

She is angry. At herself, at how broken this child is, at the lot life has thrown at him…them.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Cassandra yells at the alchemist. She knows he is not to blame here. He is a victim of life. Varian deserves help and understanding, which is something that she can sadly not give him.

Varian is not alright.

No sane person would throw themselves off a ledge.

She is frustrated with the blank look in Varian’s eyes. She wants to knock some sense into him, but he is not Rapunzel or Lance or….that ridiculous man. He is Varian, but she does not know him.

Sighing, Cassandra lets him go. She knows anger does not help, but what else is she to do? Thankfully, they are nearly at the castle.

Only there, will the alchemist finally be safe.

Varian looks at her and smiles. It is a sad smile, and not one that reaches his eyes, but it is sincere. Cassandra’s heart nearly breaks at the sight. She does not ‘deal’ with emotions, but she’s not nearly as heartless as she’d like to believe.

“Thank you, Cassie,” Varian says. He reaches into the pocket of his apron and pulls out a glass vial filled with a semi-translucent, bubbling formula.

In her tiredness, Cassandra is too slow to catch him. He tosses the vial towards the ground and Cassandra’s world is enveloped in smoke.

As the smoke clears, the swordswoman realizes the alchemist has gone missing.

He had vanished into thin air.

Perhaps there was some truth to the rumors. Had she not followed them, she would never have met this broken, sorrowful ghost.

With a shudder, she cannot help but be thankful for them. Had she not listened to them on a whim, Varian could have died this evening.

As she slowly walks backs towards the castle, Cassandra hopes the alchemist will be alright.

Now, more than ever, Cassandra is lost.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Varian #Varian Tangled #Varian the Alchemist #Cassandra #Cassandra Tangled #Fanfic

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hartsgold · 5 years

Text

𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞.

enter my very unconventional, canon compliant vampire verse for claude.

so! in this verse, we’re just going to say that there’s a distant history of vampirism in fódlan and in the neighboring lands, but the church of seiros has buried the majority of the information on vampires and the majority of them were hunted into extinction. i’m sure there are a few others still lingering in the crevices of noble families and common bloodlines.

they thirst for blood and they are extremely difficult to kill –– they do not age and they die only by fire.

the light weakens them both physically and mentally. a vampire who’s spent too long in the sun ( unless having recently gorged on blood ) is prone to fainting, to bouts of anger and paranoia, as well as struggling to carry themselves with the same supernatural strength and speed they typically harbor. conventionally, they must feed once or twice a month to maintain full strength. some are better at staving off hunger for longer periods of time, but refraining from feeding after three months ends in deep trouble. a starving vampire becomes quickly insatiable and nothing matters to them outside of blood. of course, most of this lore is buried deep in what the church has done to it.

when war approaches and claude accepts the inevitability of conflict, he steps up to his position as alliance leader. after some time with lysithea’s talk of those who slither in the dark, claude gets the feeling it might be wise to have an ace up his sleeve. there’s also the fact that his dream is going to take quite some time, and there’s no telling what difficulties might stand in his way as he goes. he predicts a massive number of them, and while he’s confident in he and his allies’ abilities to persevere, claude loves a contingency. while he does believe that byleth will come back, he doesn’t want to rely on holy relics and political sway alone.

so he does a little extensive research, and he eventually comes into the possession of a few grimoires and ancient tomes on becoming harder to kill / extending one’s lifespan. he’s not clueless –– he’s heard stories of vampires and understands the consequences, but some rewards outweigh risks. in this story he weighs his options over five years, eventually coming to the conclusion that he’ll need to assure his survival in order to execute his dream and progress as best as possible. obviously he’s never liked being experimental or possibly bringing danger to fódlan when there’s already so much at risk... but this is, to him, a necessary evil. he does a literally unfathomable amount of research on immortals and manages to dig up a few different ingredients on how to come up with a potion that stagnates the body and halts the aging process / makes it more difficult to fatally harm.

he absolutely spends years thinking about the gravity of what he might do, but research offers him the solution that he can sustain himself on the potion if he continues to brew it. rather than, you know, human blood. so there’s a foolproof way to continue this way, but it cannot be undone once it’s begun. claude is prepared to make this sacrifice in the wake of the grand nature of his dream and his commitment to it, so he does.

some potion-induced vampirism notes:

it has to be injected straight to the bloodstream when it first comes in contact with him to function / he can’t ingest it the very first time ( though he can do so later on, as a substitute for blood ).

the potion essentially causes complete stagnancy in the human body. claude can eat and drink as usual but his body will burn it off. his body temperature doesn’t change in his stagnancy / he runs as warm as he did before. his blood is essentially just frozen in a time loop. so he’ll bleed, sweat, and [redacted] as usual. it’s a little like he’s living naturally, but his body is reliving the same day over and over again without changing in accordance with age.

he gets retractable fangs because i’m not some stupid cuck and/or coward. the potion he makes likely has some remnants of the vampires of old, so it’s like... vampire DNA / of course he gets some of the traits directly. claude’s eyes are just a little bit on the golder end of green, a little warmer, a little brighter.

he’s not a conventionally ‘made’ vampire so he can’t turn others without the help of the potion he made. but he can use his fangs to open up little puncture wounds and let the potion seep in and do its job. however, he’s already used the vampire DNA for the initial potion on himself. that was a one-time thing. vampires he turns he has to turn with his DNA, so we’ll just say saliva and call it a day.

i’m conveniently saying that other than the ancient vampire DNA or whatever, he has an endless supply of it and isn’t concerned with running out of ingredients. he’s too smart to be wasteful.

claude doesn’t feel vampire-typical vampire thirst. he’s repulsed by bloodlust but he doesn’t really get hungry and he doesn’t really get full. it’s like an undercurrent of feeling satisfied/not being of want for something. that said, i’m integrating the lore of ‘the sire bond,’ so when he turns someone with his own makeshift power, there’s a sort of connection there that builds on hunger and creation. in the case of laur and i's verse, they feed on each other rather than anyone else. it's the least amount of bloodshed but it also checks all the sexiness boxes.

claude got in contact with his childhood friend nura, whose mother was friends with a neighborhood witch. said witch enchanted him a piece of jewelry that functions as a sun ring in exchange for a few secrets. it’s spelled to protect his body and mind from the effects of the sun. since claude isn’t a conventional vampire he isn’t affected at the same speed/rate a regular vampire would, but it exhausts him and causes great strain/fatigue for him to be in the daylight too long without the ring. he’s as sunny and as warm as ever, babe!

it’s just another deep, deep secret in the secret machine.

in essence, he can be killed, but he won’t.

#me and laur thought it would be fun to write a fe canon divergent vampire au so here are my thoughts on an alternate universe version of #vampire claude... within his fe canon.#❛ ・ﾟ to save this land's soul‚ you offer your own — vampire. ✧#❛ ・ﾟ with piranha teeth‚ i've been dreaming of you — flaidd. ✧#and also the verse tag for laur when he's dimitri's sire.. hehe

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michael-langdon-appreciation · 5 years

Text

Sabotage

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Gallant has spread a nasty rumour about you during his interview with Michael to try and jeopardise your place at the Sanctuary. Now Michael has summoned you to his office to find out more.

Warning: Mild SMUT (I guess), a little fluffy at times.

A/N - I tried to keep Michael as to character as possible. My first ever oneshot so I’d love some feedback :D)

(Gif from fycodyfern)

When I enter our bedroom Michael’s typing away at his macbook, the screen’s brightness illuminating the crease in his forehead from concentrating. The fire hums in the corner of his room, but there’s a frostiness in the air I didn’t expect. I close the door with more emphasis than I normally would, but Michael continues to ignore me.

The silent treatment, really?

I just wait for him to call me over, he is the one in charge after all, but Michael continues to show no inclination that he’s aware I ever entered his room. Finally my nerves get the better of me and I deposit myself in the seat before him.

Still nothing. Michael’s eyes flick all over the screen and I want to know who he is communicating with that makes him think he can get away with being rude to me.

The cooperative? Or someone else?

I’m trying to be patient, knowing he doesn’t like to be disturbed when focused. We have that in common, but to not acknowledge me? My ankle has been tapping away against the bottom of the desk, but Michael works through it, the only sign of his growing irritation being the crease that’s getting bigger and bigger as I taunt him into looking at me.

His restraint would be admirable, if it wasn’t fuelled by his innate pettiness. That was Michael all over, trying to prove a point just because he could or doing anything he can think of to win an argument. I’ve never seen him draw something out for so long before though. A sliver of genuine concern runs up the back of my spine.

There’s something very wrong here.

“Clearly you want me here considering you were the one to summon me, Michael.”

His eyes flick up to me and then back down to the keyboard. I try to reign my temper in and sit back in my chair waiting once more for him. If he wants to act like a child the I’ll take the high road. I let my mind wander away to dinner, the hunger rising back viciously till my desire to find those apples Venable’s trying to keep hidden starts overtake sitting here waiting for the inevitable argument that must be brewing.

How decadent it would be to take one, giant bite.

“Will you shut up your thoughts?”

Michael speaks through clenched teeth, his fingers halting on the keys and I look up, catching him watching me. He returns to his laptop at once, as if I didn’t catch him blatantly staring at me.

He’s hitting below the belt to get a rise out of me and as usual, it works. “If you don’t want to hear my thoughts then don’t go poking in my head.” I fire back, “Or actually share some of the food haul you brought with you because you must be eating something.”

My attempt to get him to engage fails though, he ignores me typing away again and I’ve had enough. I reach over and still his hand against the keys, “Talk to me.” I urge, “What’s happened? Was it the interviews?”

He looks back at me, eyes vulnerable and I’m seriously beginning to worry now. Michael shakes some of his long hair out of his eyes and pulls his hand into his lap, dropping eye contact. “If you aren’t happy with me you should have made that clear Y/N.”

That is not what I expected at all, “What?” I blurt, “What gave you that impression?”

Michael closes the macbook’s lid, the light disappearing from his face and plunging the room further into darkness. “I don’t think I ask for much in this relationship.” He begins, “I made it crystal clear what you were getting yourself into the first time I took you, what would be involved and what would be expected of you from then on. You agreed to everything. If you are having second thoughts you should have come straight to me.”

In my mind it’s an odd way to phrase things, he must be guilt tripping me to try and get me to tell him his methods are fine, to tell him he has my blessing.

“Who else am I going to speak to?” I demand, “You wiped Mead’s memory and you were the one who said Venable has to remain clueless-”

“You speak to me and only to me about issues involving us.” Michael repeats, “Any doubts, any concerns involving my…performance should come to me.”

“I just don’t think it’s right to murder them.” I insist, “I know you can execute it, I saw you slaughter the witches. But let them take their survival into their own hands like the others. Let it be the damn Hunger Games and see what they do. Murdering them based on your small minded opinion isn’t right. They’re most likely going to die once we’re gone so why make it so gruesome and sudden?”

Michael blinks, “I am not referring to the apples, Y/N.” A scowl crawls onto his face, as if he’s smelled something vile. “But I don’t appreciate your comments. I am the one leading this operation and I will take to the Sanctuary who I see fit and leave whoever I want to die.”

I realise my mistake, but you don’t just roll over when it comes to the Antichrist. I stand up and make my way round Michael’s desk, “What is going on?” I ask, perching on the end as close as he’ll let me, “We were fine this morning.”

I dare to reach out, to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek as I go. Michael catches my arm in his grip, “Are you dissatisfied with me, Y/N? Do I bore you so completely here that you seek out the others companionship to make up for what I’m lacking?”

“Where is this coming from?” I ask, inching closer to him. Michael’s grip on my arm is tight, his fingers white against my skin. Like always his eyes show how exposed he feels.

It’s always been hard for Michael to express his true emotions, but he’s getting better at it.

“I love you.” I say, my voice as firm and strong as it can be. “That hasn’t stopped just because I’m hungry, or a little bored from time to time.”

Michael thinks over my declaration, “I love you too.” He offers, but it sounds transactional. An instinctual reply from years of saying those words to each other.

I speak carefully, I don’t want to detonate his fuse if I can help it. “I’m sorry if I haven’t shown it, or did something to make you think otherwise.”

He lets go of my arm, “I continued my interview with Gallant today.” He tells me, leaning back in his chair to get a better view of me. “It was revealing.”

I know what that means, “What did he try and say?” I demand, already planning to hunt the bastard down. Michael doesn’t answer me, he gets up and heads towards our bed. I follow him, tugging at his shoulder till he turns round. “Michael, what did he tell you?”

It’s clear Michael doesn’t want to tell me, because the moment he does he’s going to show just how much it’s got to him and the Antichrist can’t show weakness. “He implied that you’ve been spending so much time with the occupants of this Outpost because you aren’t satisfied with me.” He mumbles.

If it was anyone else I’m sure they would be able to see how flimsy that sounds. No our sex life hasn’t been as stirring since we got to Outpost 3, but it’s by no means non-existent or lacking. But seeing how even now Michael withholding himself from me, it’s apparent that Gallant has managed to zero right in on Michael’s insecurities, his need to know he’s important to someone. That he’s valued beyond his magic or connection to his father.

Michael peeks into my eyes and on seeing my outrage he relaxes a little, “I assume that isn’t true?”

“I’m going to shove an apple down his throat myself.” I spit, wrapping my arms around Michael’s middle. My head rests against his chest and I’m relived when his hands fall on my back. “Like I said, I’m a little bored when you are conducting your interviews, but I know it’s part of your job here.” I press a kiss into his jugular, the spot he once told me makes him tingle. “I don’t regret anything, Michael and you’re certainly not lacking or less than you were before. I just don’t always agree with your ‘kill it before it becomes a problem’ approach.”

“I know,” He says. “I do listen to your opinions, Y/N.” I feel him dip down onto the bed, pulling me with him and I keep my arms round his neck as I straddle his lap. Michael’s hands support my bum as we just look at each other, “Are you really going to kill him?” He murmurs, eyes darkening at the thought.

“Sounds like he’s dying anyway.”

“He was.” Michael confirms, “I shouldn’t have doubted you. I let him get to me.”

“It’s fine.” I rake my fingers through his hair and Michael hums low in his throat, “Perhaps you should reconsider.” I suggest and Michael eyes me with surprise waiting to hear my idea. “If he’s willing to make up rumours out of desperate lust for you, maybe he’s perfect for the Sanctuary after all?”

“We don’t need scum like Gallant in our new world.” Michael says, “It may be a world of sin, but I still get to choose who gets the chance to start anew. I will not start by being disrespected.”

I love it when his confidence blooms, his voice low and gravelly. I push him back on our bed, Michael’s hair splaying out behind him. He looks positively angelic as I run my hands up his chest, “What did you say when he told you this?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Michael replies, not doing anything to stop my actions as my hands reach his top button and start unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to let him rejoice thinking your position at the Sanctuary is in jeopardy.”

“How cunning of you, Mr Langdon.” I tease, easing the buttons open and revealing more of his skin. “You wouldn’t have acted so rashly would you?”

Michael leans up onto his forearms, “Why do you think I called you here?” He asks, “I needed to hear the truth from your own lips.”

“You can have more than my truth.” I pledge, surging down to kiss him. I feel Michael grin through the kiss, pulling me down and rolling over to take charge. My fingers work the buttons of his trousers while he fumbles to unlace my dress.

“Stupid purple contraption.” He breathes and I try my best to help him, heaving up the skirts when there’s a knock at Michael’s door.

“Mr Langdon,” We both freeze at Mallory’s voice. I clamber off his bed, trying to be discreet as Michael heaves himself off me. “I’m here for my interview?”

“I didn’t send for her.” Michael mutters, voice low so Mallory won’t hear us. I send him an apologetic look, Mallory’s timing was awful.

Her voice is mousy as it travels through the door, “Should I come in?”

“No.” Michael’s voice is full of authority as he helps me pull the sleeve of my dress up and fixes my hair for me. He looks like a child who was told there are no more sweets left as I kiss his cheek and head for the door. I open it and the Grey jumps back, eyes darting from me to Michael. It’s then I realise Michael’s shirt is still unbuttoned, giving Mallory a good eyeful of his chest along with insight into what we’ve been up to.

Mallory’s cheeks have gone scarlet and I know she’s thinking along the same lines as me. I say nothing to her, anything I say will make it all the more awkward. I make do with silence and slip past her just as Michael appears at the door, “Thank you for your cooperation, Y/N.” His voice smooth as he leans against the doorframe.

My mouth falls open at his audacity. You’d have to be dense not to pick apart his meaning. Mallory could go running to Venable at any time, but Michael seems to have already forgotten about her, as if Mallory has melted into thin air. She’s meek and doesn’t dare speak, stood lamely in-between us as Michael buttons up his shirt and closes the bedroom door behind him, “We’ll have our interview in the library, Mallory. Come along.”

I let them pass, Mallory practically running for the stairs to get away from the situation. Michael’s as calm as ever and the look he sends me promises that he’ll make sure she doesn’t tell a soul. He kisses my cheek brazenly on his way, “I suggest you find Mr Gallant, darling.”

I smile at the idea and wait till he’s gone, then I make my way towards the other bedrooms. There’s a certain hairdresser I need to hunt down.

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ofsunshine-andrain · 5 years

Text

Stranger Danger (M)

pairing: vampire taehyung x reader

genre: mild smut

word count: 2k+

warning: mentions of blood, baby girl kink

a/n: my first attempt at writing smut :) there’ll be more parts to come!

Till this day, you would ask yourself how you managed to get yourself involved in such a deep and dark secret. Perhaps it was the alcohol that prevented you from thinking straight. Your intoxicated-self put aside all form of warning and indulged in what you thought to be a harmless one-night stand with a mysterious stranger.

From across the bar, you spotted a man in a suit with an air of importance around him. In his hand, he held a glass of whiskey while engaging in a discussion with a group of six men. The topic of discussion seemed to be important as he had a frown forming in the middle of this temples. However, it disappeared as soon as he caught your gaze on him.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you diverted your attention back to your date who had been talking endlessly for the past ten minutes. Your laughter to his lame joke made him make a move on you by placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You showed signs of being uncomfortable by moving his arm away but he only tighten his grip around you. Before you could verbally protest to your date, the stranger from across the bar interjected your date.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he stared at you deep in the eyes.

Your date was clearly irritated by his actions and proceeded to push the stranger away. Breaking eye contact with you, the stranger turned to your date and ask him to leave politely. Oddly enough, your date turned and headed for the exit without saying a single word to you.

The stranger took the seat of your date and repeated his previous question. In the dimly lit bar you could see his eyes gleaming. He had the lightest pair of hazel eyes you have ever seen. It was mesmerizing as his eyes gave out an aura of mysteriousness with a tinge of danger. The scar on his right wrist only increased your curiosity.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” you smiled at the stranger.

Signalling the bartender, he ordered your drink. At the moment when your drink came almost immediately, you knew that the stranger in front of you was an important man.

“What is a pretty girl like you doing with a man like that?” asked the mysterious man.

“My friend set us up.” you replied as you sipped your gin and tonic. “How about you? What brings you here?” you asked.

“I’m just hanging out with some of my friends.” he nods towards the group of six men across the bar. “when I caught a beautiful lady staring at me.” he continued with a grin.

“I was that obvious huh.” you replied as a shade of blush rushed to your cheek.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He held your hand and led you into the middle of the dance floor. Feeling a bit adventurous, you test the waters by grinding your body against his. He reciprocates by holding you close to him. The whole time, the both of you never break eye contact. The connection you both shared felt so intense and strong. On the dance floor, body language spoke louder than words ever did.

You wanted him and he wanted you as badly.

Before you knew it the both of you were at a hotel, barely able to keep your hands of each other. In the lift, he pushed the button to the highest floor and kissed you. It was was not a shy first time kiss but instead it was a kiss filled with impatience and hunger. His want for you showed in bulge in his pants that was growing harder by the second.

When the elevator doors ding open, he held your hand and led you into a massive suite. The presidential suite was nothing like you have ever seen. A chandelier hung in the middle of the living room and there was a hot tub in the bathroom. You realised how little you knew about the stranger you were about to hook up with. Perhaps not knowing made it all a bit more fun.

“You can wash up first if you want.”

Before you entered the huge bathroom, you asked him for his name; embarrassed that you haven’t done so earlier.

“Tae” was all his replied. You had no idea if that was his first or last name. Perhaps it was better that you didn’t anyway.

Shutting the door behind you, reality finally sinks in as you realised what you have signed up to do. This was not you at all. The you at that moment was not the same person who was nominated as valedictorian in university and was definitely not the same girl who had her first kiss at twenty. You couldn’t explain the feelings and emotions that rushed through you when you were with Tae. He made you feel as if you had the courage to do anything.

You thank the gods for having a brazilian wax before tonight. You usually didn’t sleep with guys on the first date but Tae was an exception. The both of you probably wouldn’t see each other after tonight so why not go all the way. In just a bathrobe, you left the bathroom to find Tae sitting on the plush bed. On the side of the bed stood a room service trolley. He had ordered champagne, strawberries and chocolate.

He got up and passed you a glass of champagne. With the sexiest gaze you have ever seen, he turns around and goes into the bathroom. It was as if he was trying to build up anticipation. If more than anything, you were definitely looking forward to what was to come.

A while later while you were sipping on the champagne, he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His broad shoulders showed along with his chiseled chest. With each step he took towards you, your breath hitched and heartbeat quicken.

He took the glass of champagne out from your hand as he closed the space between the both of you. You fell back onto the soft bed the both of you experimented with your lips. He bit gently at your lower lip earning him a soft moan at the back of your throat. The moan only stirred him to push at your buttons more. He wanted to know the things that got you off. He explored lower onto your exposed neck while leaving hickeys all over.

With a pull of your bathrobe’s ribbon, you were exposed to him. In your most vulnerable and pure form, you felt as if you could trust him. Instead of pouncing on his prey, he took his own sweet time to find out what you liked. He enjoyed seeing the needy look on your face as he slowly tweaked at your nipples. Your hands found the sheets and gripped it tightly as he finally sucked on your sensitive nipples.

Shortly after, he discarded your bathrobe across the room as he continued peppering kisses down to your stomach. With your permission, he moved lower and tested the waters by giving you a little lick. Your whole body reacted with a little shake and a moan. His fingers came to play as he widen your pussy lips to see all of you. When you least expect, he gave your clit a hard suckle which gave your body a jolt of pleasure.

“You’re so wet.” he said as he swiped his fingers along your folds. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them. Seeing him do that caused a burning desire in the pit of your stomach.

“Absolutely delicious” he commented which made you blush. You tug at the towel around his waist as he removed it. His cock sprung up after being free from the towel’s confinement. It was hard and crying for your attention. You wrapped your hand around his dick and pumped it slowly up and down. Crawling closer to get a better angle of his cock, you gave it kitten licks on the sensitive tip. A small moan came from him which made you sink your mouth fully on his cock.

When the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you swallowed. “You’re gonna make me cum if this goes on, baby girl.” he said as he pulled away from you. You got on your back as he positions himself. He looks you in eyes, as he teases you by rubbing his cock along your folds while bumping into your clit. His hazel eyes pulled you in and you wanted more as the burning desire in you increased.

“Please.” you cried in frustration.

“Tell me what you want, baby girl.” he said as he stroked your cheek.

“Fuck me please.” you begged.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” he said with a grin.

Without hesitation, he filled you full with his cock. You were more than wet enough for him to go in all at once, even making a dirty squelch sound. He pumped in you slowly, trying to find your sweet spot. On one particular hard stroke, you cried out in a loud moan.

“Ah ha, found it.” he grinned.

He buried his face into your neck as he starts to work up a fast rhythm. You hugged him tightly as your nails clawed on his back. He was hitting the right spot in you and you were about to lose it. His impending release was only stimulated from you tightening around him.

He slipped his hand in between the both of you to rub on your clit. You screamed as it was becoming too intense. The wave of pleasure washed over you as you tighten around him, urging him to follow you after. As the both of you reached your highs, your eyes locked and you felt a strong and deep connection with him. His hazel eyes were not going to be something you would forget that easily.

The intense pleasure made the both of you stay as you were for a while before he could gather some energy to get off of you. He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth to clean you up.

“Have a good rest, baby girl.” he said.

Barely able to keep your eyes open, you sank into a slumber into dreamland. The next morning when the sun way shining high, you woke up from the best sleep you have had in the longest time. Last night you had a weird dream where you saw the stranger from last night; Tae drinking from a blood bag? However, the oddest part of the dream has to be when he looked into your eyes as he did it. Those hazel eyes sure were mysterious.

You looked around the suite but Tae was no where to be found. Instead in his place you found a note which read “Sorry I had to leave early. Help yourself to some breakfast before leaving.”

“Well that was how one night stands were anyway”, you thought to yourself.

After a cup of coffee, you left the hotel. With that, you left behind the memories of last night inside the suite. It wasn’t like you were going to meet him or do this anymore. Last night was definitely a one time thing. It wasn’t like you at all to act like that.

Once in a while, unconsciously, your thoughts would drift to the night of your one night stand. All you could remember were those hazel eyes that were so alluring. No doubt, the sex itself was fucking amazing but what really spark your curiosity was Tae. Who is Tae? Is his name even Tae? Often enough, you would imagine his occupation and life based on that night but your guesses never seemed to feel right.

Another Friday night passed and you were stuck in the office. Being in the corporate line you expected overtime but you did not expect to be working yourself to death in your late twenties. Finally at ten you decided to head home for a good bubble bath and to binge watching Netflix.

The building’s car park was closed for maintenance which meant you had to park two blocks away. It seemed fine in the morning but at night it was just creepy. You walked as fast as you can towards your car while passing by several alleyways which scared you.

That was when you heard a scream. It belonged to a female. You stopped to listen for a scream again but it never came. A rustle from a nearby alleyway made all the hair on your body, stand. The rustle continued and you followed the sound expecting to see a stray animal.

Instead, you found yourself seeing a man crouching over a lifeless woman. His back was turned on so you couldn’t identify him. The woman in his arms was not moving and her eyes were closed. As you walked closer, you accidentally kicked an empty can which caused a sound.

The man turned around and you saw the most baffling scene ever. There was blood coming out from the side of his lips. The lady on the ground had bite marks on her neck. Your whole body was telling you to run but your legs turned jelly. Perhaps the worst part was that you recognised the man.

Before you fainted in fear, all you could remember was seeing was a pair of hazel eyes.

The same hazel eyes that you couldn’t forget.

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lygerastia · 5 years

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lavish (Alice Nakiri)

Summary: Nakiri Alice invites the reader, her friend, to a taste test. Reader questions why did the famous Nakiri prepared a meal just for her; but when Alice starts feeding her, all thoughts disappear and she can focus only on the taste. And a certain white-haired female, who is more than happy to tease her younger 'friend'.

Warnings: none.

Chapters: 1 [completed]

Words: 2,062

READ IT ON AO3.

“All of this?" her voice trembles in fear, body frozen, hands clamped tightly into the fabric of the pillow. "For me?”

Bewilderment. Surprise. Pleasure moslty, among other feelings that were continuously growing inside of her. Increasing affection. Hunger.

“Aaaaall this…” Sensual. Teasingly. “For you~” A devious chuckle and an almost inaudible gulp; she felt her mouth water at the rich sight in front of her very eyes, that made her stomach rumble furiously.

She was famished. And not just for the food displayed on the table.

“Shall I feed you?” the white haired female, seated on the cushion next to her, scooped closer. Another nervous gulp, the other girl tense from the closeness with the famous Nakiri Alice’s body, their thighs touching lightly. What was with that outfit? With that long lab coat over a lacy black dress, too short for comfort? What was Nakiri trying to do? This should be illegale--it was bad for [name]'s heart. Was she trying to be a chemist? This was bad, so bad; it was already late in the night and this sudden invitation she received from the more talented female only made her heart beat faster, ready to burst. It filled her head with questions to Alice's real intentions: was she really just trying to taste new recipes? This banquetseemed more than just a simple test; it was as if Alice invited [name] to a dinner, a romantic one. Wouldn't Alice use Ryo's advice more than hers? Ryo was her best friend, they worked together so many times; why would Alice ask for her advice? There was no point. Did that mean Alice valued her word more than Ryo's? At least that thought made her shudder with pleasure.

‘I shouldn’t be thinking these things. She’s my friend.’

My cute and adorable guinea pig, as she puts it. ‘I hope she just uses that as an endearment…’

But back to the present.

She’s too nervous to look Alice in the eyes, so she clenches her fists and stares at the ground, letting her [h/l] [h/c] fall over her expression, hiding her wide smile. Being fed personally by one of the greatest chef around in ascension was an honor. But she felt that, being a lowlife student with no special qualities, she shouldn’t accept it. She was not worthy enough. She already crossed the boundaries when he tried to befriend Alice in the first place (which she was kind enough to accept; she still doesn’t know the reason).

Luckily for her, they formed a friendship and continued on being so. Her own crush on the white haired girl was unplanned and well, it bore no fruit. Not like she expected anything. At least she gets to try Alice’s delicious cooking.

“There’s no need to do that, A-Alice-chan…”

“Nonsense!” Alice beams happily. “I want to do it so I will! No complaining!” A pout formed on the albino’s lush lips. “Besides, I won’t take ‘no’ as an answer after I took aaaall this time to cook for you!”

‘You went a bit overboard, though…’ the girl glanced one more time at the variety of meals set on the table. A whole long table. Plates filled with delicious food, glistening in the dim lights and being really tempting. A chemical combination that could please her entirely. Only for her…

“Umm…”

“Like~I~said~” Alice’s long fingers cup her cheeks, turning her head towards her and she gulps again after seeing Alice’s expression. Her eyes narrowed, a dark shadow cast over them. Meaning she was serious about this, her lips curled into a malicious smirk. “I am not going to let you go.”

A shudder went through her spine. She was sold. Completely.

“Good~”

Still holding her chin and her red orbs never leaving the other’s own eyes, Alice’s hand gently and slowly picked up a strawberry. She twirled it a few times, eyeing the other girl with lust and mischief that sent a shudder through her spine. Oh, she was in for a treat. Alice’s thumb gently caressed [Name]’s lips, parting them slightly and making her blush profusely.

“Open up…” Alice orders her darkly, and she can’t help but obey. She opens her mouth and Alice teases her lips with the strawberry, rubbing it against it and making [Name] whine a bit in anticipation. “You like strawberries very much, don’t you?”

[Name] let out a thirsty breath. Alice chuckled again. “Alright. I won’t keep it away from you anymore.”

She pressed the strawberry to her lips, pushing it in between and [Name] bit into it. It was succulent and the rosy sweet juice of the fruit dribbled down her chin. [Name] felt herself exploding from the taste and chewed up slowly, maintaining eye contact with Alice all the time, as she was encouraging her on with small and whispered words.

“That’s a good girl.” Alice purred and picked up another strawberry and this time she was being more forceful. “Can you keep up?”

“A-Ah.” [name] could only moan as Alice continued on teasing her with food. “P-Please…”

Alice cocked her head to the side, smiling darkly but innocently at the same time. “Please what?”

“Feed me something else…” the girl begged, a bit flushed and panting heavily. She wanted her tongue to feel more of the delicious treats Alice has prepared for her.

“Oh!” Alice clapped her hands together, delighted. “You should’ve said so sooner! I have this bento specially designed for your tastes, [Name]! Studied them thoroughly!”

The other girl felt her heart leap, but said nothing and only watched how Alice picked up a box with one hand and the chopsticks with the other. “You’re ready?” she asked her, smiling a cute smile that [Name] very much liked. Did she just said that she designed this bento for her because she was studied?!

Oh boy.

“Please,” she begs.

“Here I go~”

Alice picked up some octopus wieners with her chopsticks, holding them like a refined expert and ordering her once again to open her mouth. She brutally shoved the wieners in [Name]’s open mouth, careful still not to hurt her.

[Name] chewed and swallowed but Alice didn’t let her rest and started to stuff her face with more delicious treats, varying from onigiri to succulent meat pieces. The sauces made the difference between the normal meal and the one Alice created, making [name] feel like in paradise. It was too much, too delicious...[Name] made sure to enjoy it thoroughly, making encouraging noises to let Alice know that she could continue doing what she was doing: she was doing more than alright. Alice chuckled at her needy nature, enjoying her red cheeks, parted lips ready for more food, panting heavily, her chest rising up and down with obvious satisfaction. [Name] squirmed a bit, adjusting her position and rubbing her thighs together since she was starting to feel rather…uncomfortable.

And hot. Extremely hot.

Turned on by the way the food was making her feel, mixed with the overwhelming presence of Alice near; it was enough to make her burst. The delicious flavors exploding in her mouth, the still yummy and fresh scent of the food alongside with Alice’s natural fragrance was slowly but surely driving her insane. She just wanted to jump on the young cook and ravish her, eat her out like the dishes Alice so carefully made…but she knew that was a forbidden desire that she must keep for herself.

Or else…

“Ah, I see,” the white haired girl suddenly chimes in, putting the almost empty bento box and the chopsticks back on the table. The other girl stops for a few seconds, in a daze, not knowing what Alice was planning now.

“W-What…” she whimpers in a weak tone, wanting more of Alice’s care.

However, the white haired girl had other plans.

“You got something…” she said, scrunching his nose as if displeased. “Over…” she leaned closer, her fingers grabbing [Name]’s chin with delicacy. “Here.” Alice held her jaw as her lips got closer to the other girl’s mouth.

“A-ALICE?!” she could only squeak as Alice’s fingers didn’t let go of her and didn’t let her move. She was trapped.

“What is it?” Alice stopped halfway, although too close for comfort, smirking and breathing upon her lips, teasingly. Her eyes were anything but than innocent.

“What are you…” her words died out in favor of heavy swallowing.

“Cleaning you, you dirty pig,” she responded and, though her words were mean, her tone was sweeter than cotton candy. “You need to be a lot more careful...” And the white haired chef simply kissed the corner of [name]’s mouth, gently; made the other girl’s breath hitch in her throat. “Mmm...” then a wet appendage tickled her skin, licking her slowly. [name] was thunderstruck; did Alice just lick her? She felt like her whole body was exploding and she couldn’t contain her feelings anymore.

If she won’t have Nakiri Alice now...

“You had some rice--” Alice didn’t even manage to lick her lips clean because she was quickly pushed upwards then promptly pinned to the table's edge by a very horny [name]. “Ah-!” she moaned involuntarily, arms pinned above her head, back bend over the wooden table, the other girl hovering above her dangerously. Alice liked the clouded gaze [name] had; she loved seeing her lose all composure after her constant teasing. It was the first time she saw her like that as [name] usually kept her cool. Alice wanted to change that and make the quiet girl burst--she knew she had it inside of her. Seems like she had had enough.

Just like Alice planned calculated.

She smirked, loving the position she was in. “What’s this? You’ve had enough of my treatment?”

“Alice...” [name] sighed, closing her eyes. “Can you shut up for a second?”

Alice was thrilled. “Is that how you talk to a Nakiri--Mmph!”

Their lips finally connected because [name] lost all her patience. She let her feelings loose and closed the gap, knowing that Alice toyed with her the whole time to bring her to this point. It was so obvious...She has been so blind to her sempai’s affection. But now she will regret it. Alice was kissing her back, trying to establish dominance--but she was in no position to do that. [name] was on top; she had the upper power. So she kept on kissing her, biting on her lips until they both lost their breath and parted. Panting hard, they stared into each other’s eyes, filled with lust.

“Well, well...” Alice sighed dreamily, her lips feeling rather sore. “Didn’t know you had it in you, [name]-chan.”

A light blush appeared on the girl’s cheeks and she looked away, realizing the intensity of the situation. This was embarrassing: what if she was being misled for blackmail? Alice could be manipulative sometimes. Though what she could get out of her, that was something she had no idea about. She had nothing. Alice had it all. She was [name]’s queen, her idol.

“Sh-Shut up...I-I’m sorry...” she apologizes, feeling stupid now. The kiss felt more than right; but what was Alice’s opinion on all this? Did she liked it? She looked more than flustered, spread onto that table so defensively. Her heavy chest was lifting up and down, so deliciously. Her dress was riding up her plump thighs as she lifted her legs to snake them around [name]'s waist, bringing her closer. She grinds against the toping female, making her hiss. [name] could feel everything, how wet Alice was through her panties and how desperately wanted to touch her.

Shit.

“Why are you sorry for?” the white haired female chuckled, somehow managing to escape [name]’s grip, loosened in her moment of admiration. Her hands cup [name]’s face, gently caressing it. “It was all planned, stupid~”

“Ah--! You--!” [name] felt like dying. “Why?”

“Because I like you, of course! Just wanted to give you a little push! Seems like my dishes worked their magic...” There was something mischievous and hidden in her tone.

‘So that’s why I’m feeling so light and tipsy...' “You did something...?”

“Aphrodisiacs.” Alice smirked. “To put you in the mood.” [name] was too euphoric to actually care. It got her what she wanted, no? “Now...” Alice brings her closer. “Shall we continue?”

–

[masterlist]

#Shokugeki No Soma #Nakiri Alice #Nakiri Alice x Female Reader #Food Wars

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