#so there is still the slimmest of chances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoyoist · 1 year

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— 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔 !! : baji keisuke.

content: fem!reader. college au. strangers to friends to lovers trope. baji is a delinquent, still. reader is implied to be rich and rather innocent. ~ fingering. spit. manhandling, slight breeding kink, mating press, raw sex, rough sex, praise.

word count: 4.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀— . ｡˚ ♡ what happens when the sweet lil honors student decides to be nice and help the failing college student/delinquent out?

when baji makes it into college, it's by the slimmest fucking chance. he barely makes it. but baji's always been one to follow through with what he's set his eyes on doing — so by no means is he going to flunk out of college once he's got in.

he's struggling, though, and it's no help that most of the other students are a little wary of him. there’s nobody around that’s willing to lend him a hand. but that’s warranted, you suppose.

he is after all, a delinquent with a ton of street cred on his back, and has made a name for having a complete lack of hesitation to use his fists to make his way out of any given situation.

he looks it, too — and rumors are always strengthened by appearances.

he's got those wild, sharp eyes and that whetted smile, and he's a big guy. muscles showing through the thin shirts he shows up to classes in, his toned thighs and calves on display at the behest of the tight leather pants he always wears.

the chains and rings he wears, and the booming motorcycle he rides just makes his deadly image more refined — not to mention the fact that he's already picked more than a couple of fights on campus his first semester.

but you see how he tries so hard in class.

you've never spoken to baji keisuke in your life before — but today is the start of the fourth week in a row that you've walked into the library after class, to see baji sitting at one of the tables by himself, surrounded by books as he stares at a printed question sheet with a scowl on his face.

as an honors student, a soft spoken girl that takes her father's car to school every day, and dresses in pastels and skirts, you're the opposite of baji keisuke in every way. you're nervous, and unsure if he'd even listen to you, or just laugh your words off and render you unable to ever meet his eyes again.

but you do it anyway. you walk up to him where he's sitting at his usual table, and clear your throat. "baji?"

and when he looks up, features so sharp and rugged, the pen he's twirling in his hands so tiny compared to his large palm and fingers, your breath catches in your throat — but you speak up anyway. "hi. i'm from your class?" you say, giving him a smile.

"whaddya want?" he asks, after almost a full minute of looking you up and down. you feel nearly insecure as you stand there and wait, wondering if he doesn't like the look of your plaid sweater, your cute boots or your skirt.

you open your mouth to answer him, but he cuts you off — "you wanna hop on my dick or somethin'? because if so, scram."

"no!" you blurt out, feeling your face heat up in an instant. he raises a thick, questioning eyebrow at you then, and you stutter, trying to form your sentences back on your tongue after his embarrassing accusation. "i— i just wanted to know if you'd like some help!"

"huh?" baji grunts, putting his pen down. "what's that mean?"

"with your work!" you say, gesturing to all the books laid out on the table. "you know? i've seen you here a lot recently, working on your homework and stuff. so i just wanted to ask if you wanted some help."

"with my studies?" he asks, like he's still unsure. and when you nod, you see his eyes slowly light up — because even baji knows you’re one of the smartest students. "really? ya wanna tutor me?"

"not for money or anything." you quickly affirm, in case he lands another quip about how he doesn't have money to give you. "just ... as a classmate. as a friend. we could be study partners, if you like."

"study partners, huh." he muses, resting his chin on his fist as he thinks about it. then, he gives you a grin (that automatically makes your heart flutter, because god, you can't deny it — he's hot). "sure."

he pats the chair next to his, offering you a seat, and you take it.

hence, you started on your semester long journey of being baji's study partner, making fast friends with him and finding out that he's a sweet, funny guy alongside the rough, loud personality he's got.

your curiosity on why a gangster like him would try so hard in college, or wish to attend school at all, is satiated when eventually, he tells you about his domestic dreams of building a cozy little life for himself, opening up a pet shop, perhaps expanding it into a vet clinic if he can pass his course and get licensed.

baji’s ambitions are only strange to you for the first half of your time with him. the more you get to know him, the more you realize that his rugged, untamed appearance and personality is all just who he is on the surface level.

apart from how surprisingly cute he is when he’s learning, he's so nice to you — walks with you to class, offers to drive you on his bike to this really good coffee place he knows during breaks, brings you a little gift on your birthday — and by the end of the semester, you're sure you've about fallen in love with him.

and thankfully, with your help, his grades do go up.

he scores well enough that he manages to pass and secure his spot in college for another year — and though his achievement was not much compared to your top results, he's so happy about it.

"princess," he says (because he calls you princess now) as he flops onto the couch in your bedroom (because somewhere in the midst of the semester, you've also moved your regular study spot from the library to your house). "have i thanked ya properly for all your help yet?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, perched on the edge of your bed, watching him manspread, feeling proud when he shoots a satisfied glance towards the marksheet laying on the couch beside him.

"i mean," he sighs. "i gotta thank you, right? you're savin' my life here."

"by studying with you?" you giggle, and he meets your eyes with a lazy tilt of his head, watching as you smooth your skirt out over your knees. the early winter sun that pools into the room through the window is watery — but the light catches in his bright gaze anyway, increasing the intensity of his stare. "it's okay. you've bought me enough coffee over the days to pay me back, i think."

there's a moment of tense silence, before he gets up from the couch, and walks over to you.

when he stops only a foot away from your seat on the bed, and asks, "is the door locked, princess?" you feel a shiver crawl up your spine — but you nod, assuring him that the door is locked.

and with that, he climbs onto the bed on top of you, pushing you down onto your bed.

your heart jumps, as your back hits the mattress, his hands coming down to dig into the sheets on either side of your head, as he grips them to hold his weight over you.

"can i thank you?" he rasps after a second, voice soft — hovering over you with his lips only inches away from your own. your heart picks up pace, and your pulse hammers in your ears as you fight to keep eye contact with him. as you try to think of an answer.

and well, fuck, you never thought something like this would happen, when you first took pity on the delinquent in your class, and offered to help him with his studies.

you were just being nice — but as you’d just been thinking of a moment ago, over the course of the time you've known baji, you've found out that he's got so much more to him than his delinquent’s face.

you know he’s gentle with animals, that he works so very hard to be the best he can be, and that he's a loyal friend. you know he likes peyoung yakisoba, and that he secretly reads shoujo manga. you know he prefers your red hair ties over your pink ones. you know the most important thing to him is that his mother is happy (and you know what they say. a man who's good to his mother, will be good to his wife).

you really do like him. so you nod once more, but he sees the hesitation in your eyes, so he asks again. "is this really okay?"

you blink up at him, once or twice, before gathering the courage to ask. "baj— keisuke. do you like me?"

"i do." he replies without a beat missed, gaze bright as he locks it with yours. and just those two words cause your heart to warm up so many degrees, an instant shot of delight — but you ask again. "really?"

he licks his lips, seeming a little nervous, now, as he hovers over you. "really." he says. his heat spills into you through the minute distance between your bodies, as he collects the words onto his tongue. "i fuckin' love you, princess. never thought i'd be such a sap for someone, but i am. i like you, a lot. i want you."

it's strange — because although you love him, you've never thought he'd return your feelings.

you've always thought and decided that things would end as quickly and smoothly as they'd started. that you'd help him, and he'd receive your help, and that would be that. but now, the situation's changed. in an instant.

a little voice at the back of your head wonders that hey, maybe this is just the delinquent taking his chance with the unassuming, innocent little girl in his class — but you brush the thought aside. you’re not stupid. you know baji’s a good guy.

you swallow, throat going dry as you realize what will happen once you answer. "i like you too, keisuke. in fact, i think i'm in love with you, too."

baji laughs at that, an affectionate little heh, leaving his lungs before he takes in another breath. "can i kiss you, then?"

"you can do whatever you want." you say.

and instantly, he's kissing you.

it’s almost too quick, his tongue pushing hungrily past your lips and coiling with your own, searing and needy as his hands clutch your waist, crawling under your top to feel up your skin, soft and supple under his calloused grip.

a mewl falls from your lips when his fingers brush against your tits, and he moves his hand back to that spot, giving the soft flesh a squeeze and laughing when you gasp, your body rocking under his.

your own hands lift up, somewhat unsure, to palm at his muscled chest, tugging experimentally at the hem of his shirt. "take it off," he grunts, into your mouth. "hah, never been touched like this before, have you?"

"haven't." you mumble shyly, and baji's eyes glow dully when he hears it. he yanks the top off of you, and you feel vulnerable as you squirm on your bed, wearing nothing but your skirt and panties as he ravishes you with his eyes. "yeah? gonna show ya how good lil' things like you should be treated, then." he says, placing a hand on your thigh and feeling how you shiver at the touch.

he doesn't move it before you pull his t-shirt off for him, coaxing you to go ahead and do it, and allowing you to run your eyes over his muscled torso for a bit. then, his hand inches up your thigh as he kisses you again, fingers so large and thick as he makes his way between your legs. "so pretty f'me."

"mm," your face burns again, the same way it had the first time you ever spoke to him, and he'd asked you that embarrassing fucking question — but it's funny, since what he said is now about to come true. in a way. "y—you, too."

"aww, princess thinks i'm pretty?" he coos, and laughs harder when you cover your face with your hands, unable to meet his eyes as he teases you. "fuck, you're so cute. lettin' the gangster boy fuck you after you help him pass in school, eh?"

"i— this wasn't my intention." you whine, but baji cuts you off by pressing a thumb against your clothed clit — and it's even more embarrassing when your body automatically jolts, thighs closing around his arm as you flinch in reaction to the sudden stimulation. "yeah, but ya like how it's goin', mhm?" he grins, showing off those canines again, and fuck.

"i do," you breathe, as he keeps his thumb over your clit, rubbing little circles into it and making it throb. it's hard to focus when he's doing it, but then he leans in for more kisses, and you've never felt such sweet, yet rough warmth before in your life.

"i know you do." he says it into your mouth, before sliding your panties aside and easing a finger into your cunt. it feels hot, delicious even with just one damn finger, and you moan, the sensation so unexpectedly good. "see? all fuckin' wet 'n i didn't even do much yet."

"please," you kiss him again, curling your hands around his face. "want it already."

"tch, patience, baby." he clicks his tongue, letting just the one finger slide in and out of your slick pussy, and you know he's going to put two in next, and then three, stretching you out just right before he gives you his cock.

and for something you've never thought about much before, you need it so damn bad. with baji towering over you, body so muscled and toned and hands so hot and good, mouth so skilled at showering you with both kisses and praise, you need him like never before.

the chain on his ripped jeans jingles as he pushes his knee between your legs, opening them wider, before he whispers, just like you’d guessed, that he’s going to give you another finger. his free hand grips your fluffy blanket harder, putting more of his weight onto the mattress and making it creak a little. “move up a little, princess. give me some more room.”

so you get further back onto the bed, and he climbs on after you, letting his pants join his t-shirt on the side of the bed, with your own top — the bold black and grey colours so starkly contrasting your bedsheets as he casts it all aside.

“ya hear this pussy singin’ for me?” he chuckles, and the way your cunt gushes harder when he slips a third finger in is so good to him, your face flushing with humiliation, he can’t bother prepping you any further before he gives you his cock.

“she’s beggin’ to have me.” he taunts, loving the way you’re getting so shy and embarrassed, no matter what he does or says. “you do some begging, too, won’t ya? let me hear you.”

and you steel yourself, feeling so full with just his fingers in you, forcing your moans and gasps to be quieter as he curls them in and finds your sweet spots so easily. “want your cock, keisuke. please. need to be filled all up.” he stares at you, doe eyes and swollen lips so pretty as you’re spread out under him, and with a whispered fuck, he pulls his drooling cock out from where it’s been straining under his boxers this whole time.

“see that, princess?” he sighs, relief washing over him as he grips the thick length, allowing himself a few pumps with his fist. “this cock? ‘s all yours.”

baji’s fucking huge — as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to touch him, you feel the hot, stiff length of him up, and you really don’t know how you’re going to take it.

but you will — oh, god, you will, because you haven’t even felt him yet but you know he’s going to send you to heaven with just his cock.

“want it,” you plead. “I’ll take it for you. if it’s all mine, then give it to me. please.”

“shit,” he groans, when you run your fingers softly down his cock and back up, smearing the precum collecting at his tip onto your fingers as you go. “for someone that hasn’t done any of this, you’re fuckin’ good with your words.”

“‘m a smart girl,” you give him a smile, and his lips are tugged into yet another grin when he sees it. “smart girls know what to say.”

“yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do.” he assures you, before he tugs the panties off you and throws them onto the floor behind, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and pushing them up, your skirt splaying out on your stomach as he folds you in half and reveals your glistening pussy to him.

“let’s keep this skirt on, yeah?” he asks, eyes on your cunt, on your little hole that he’s about to fill right up. “y’look pretty with it on.”

“anything.” you beg, eyes fluttering shut before you open them again, watching as baji’s hair falls in curtains around his face, his brows scrunching together as he frowns in focus, lining his cock up with your cunt. “just want you to fuck me.”

“alright, alright, baby.” he grunts, voice going heavier, as he finally pushes his cock in. first, it’s just the head — and you think the stretch is manageable, that you can take him well enough.

but then he rolls his hips, forces your cunt open and makes you take all of him in, and fuck.

“keisuke! no— no, not so much at once!” you cry, and he’s barely able to answer, with the way your pussy sucks him in so well despite your protest, warm and wet and so god damn tight.

“you’re fine,” he stutters, nails digging harshly into the plush skin of your thighs as he pushes himself balls deep into you, bending you further so your knees are pressed against your chest. “you’re just fine, princess, fuck. look at ya. pussy so pretty all stuffed.”

he stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, razor eyes going soft and almost dreamy as he feels your walls cling to him, so deliciously hot. when he nudges his tip to your cervix, you flutter around him, and he hisses, precum drooling into you furiously.

you whimper as the pain dissipates and blooms into saccharine pleasure, the rough grip he’s got on you and the thickness of his cock in your little cunt, together with the praise he’s showering you with — it’s enough to make you cum in almost one go.

“you got this,” he pants, pulling out just a little before he pushes in again, the wavy tousles of his hair bouncing lightly with every move. “your pussy’s fine.”

you open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out, the moan catching in your throat and your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts moving. the messy squelching of your cunt with his thrusts would embarrass you, if he weren’t throwing stars into your vision with each slap of his pelvis against your clit. “k—keisuke!”

“shhh,” he exhales, gritting his teeth as he steadily increases his pace, building his way up to his own high. you’ll cum hard enough, even if he doesn’t try too hard, he knows — his cock is big, he knows how to fuck good, and you’re an inexperienced little thing.

a sweet, beautiful, inexperienced little thing.

he watches keenly, biting his lip as he goes back and forth, watching your pretty face, eyes wild with pleasure as you watch how his length sinks into you, and then out, and then back in again.

“c-can i,” he groans, waiting for you to look up and meet his eyes before he continues. “go faster, princess?”

“mhm!” you cry without hesitation despite yourself, so eager to please — so needy to have more, more, more.

and god, he's going to cum, he can feel it as he takes his pace even further — your little pussy's just too tight, too hot 'n wet, it's enough to send a man straight to seventh fucking heaven.

he knows already that you'll be fine even if he gets a little rougher than intended — he sees how your eyes are rolling back, how your sweet lips are stretching into a dopey, open-mouthed smile with each hard hit of his cock at your cervix.

you want it, want it all — you're innocent and pure but god you're a devilish little thing at heart.

he'd treat you nicely, be gentle and take things slow like how he'd planned to do at the start, but you want it so bad, he wants it so bad, and there's just no stopping it.

“open that mouth wider for me baby,” he rasps, and you do it instantly, making him laugh as he gathers a ball of saliva on his tongue and spits it out, watching with a heavy throb of his cock as it lands right on your cute, pink lil tongue. “swallow f'me? hah, atta girl~”

and with that, he gives you the first mean thrust of his cock into your cunt — the squelch of your cunt is loud, only second to your moan and third to the grunt baji can't help but let out, when he feels just how tight your pussy is gripping him.

“relax, princess,” he huffs, the muscled panes of his chest pressing against your tits as he buries himself as far inside you as he can go, before pulling back out and going back in again — filling your lovely little room with the lewdest sounds—

the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin, your fucked out whines with each roll of his hips, and the messy sounds of your pussy along with the breathy groans he's spilling into your ear; it's so, so fucking good.

you're stuffed, and as baji whispers hoarsely with his lips against your cheek that he's gonna cum, you moan again, telling him you're gonna cum too, and you don't know what you're begging for anymore but you beg, “please, please, please, please— mmph!”

and he's kissing you again, muscled body trapping you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly, now in short quick thrusts that offer your sweet, gummy spots another kind of kiss after kiss with his fat tip.

“let me cum in you, princess? can't — can't fuckin' pull out, 's too good,” he groans into your mouth, and fuck, you've never felt this good and this loved and this full before in your entire damn life.

“inside, kei, inside.” you agree, voice all high and breathless, your words falling right onto his tongue as they tangle together when he deepens the kiss. “want your cum in me, kei, please.”

and it's not the hug of your velvet walls around his cock, or the plush, warm feel of your pretty body under his, or the claw of your fingers at his back and his arms that undo him—

but it's the way your voice calls out his name so cutely, saying kei, as you ask him to breed you full, that makes him cum.

the band in his lower stomach tightens and then snaps — and with a low, ravenous growl into your mouth, he cums. “f—fuck.”

his cum is hot, thick, filling your pussy with white and coating his cock in a milky film as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, refusing to slow down even as your own orgasm washes over you and your tiny little cunt clenches even tighter around him, making it almost impossible for him to move.

“mmm, kei! fuck, cumming, fuck, fuck, so good!” you babble, tongue lolling out from your mouth that's parted in your effort to catch your breath, and he'd laugh, chide your language, but you feel so good he's been rendered speechless.

his own mouth is open in silent curses, breath catching in his throat as he fucks his cum deep into you, feeling how your pussy flutters obediently, eating it all right up.

he listens to your cries of pleasure, head falling onto your chest, his cheek squished against your tits as he breathes you in, basking in the hot bliss you're giving him as he smacks his hips into yours sloppily, such a wet mess forming between your bodies — your skirt is soaked.

“fuck, princess, i love ya,” he hisses, as you milk him through. “this pussy's mine and only mine, alright?”

“mhm,” you nod, and he grins, vision cloudy as he looks down at your pretty face. “all yours, kei.”

“can't take that back after ya said it, alright?” he breathes out, hot over your chest. “tell me ya love me, baby.”

“i love you,” you gasp, as he slows down, bringing his hips to a stop against yours and letting go of your thighs so you can tangle them around his waist again. “i love you so, so much, kei, you don't know.”

“hey,” he chuckles, getting pulled into you as he tries to give you a peck on the cheek. “i love you so much, m'kay?”

“no, i love you more.” you pout, and he nips at your bottom lip, teasing the tender flesh with his sharp teeth. “this ain't a competition, princess. i love you the most.”

“mmm,” you huff, knowing that you both should really get up and clean things up, if you're done — but he feels so nice, so warm and heavy and comforting on top of you, and you want to stay like this forever. “sure. i'll let that go, for now.”

baji only cackles fondly at that, giving your swollen lips a kiss and then another on your teary cheek, before laying back with a satiated sigh. “so what are we now? still just friends? study partners, even though you've effectively hopped on my dick now?”

you feel your face get hot at his words, giving his shoulder a gentle slap as you pout again. “no, what you are now is mine. all mine.”

and there's a little pause, before he lets out another chuckle. “bloody hell, you really do fuckin' know what to say.”

“of course.” you smile. “anyway, study sesh at your place tomorrow? same time?”

“hah, what fucking study sesh when the semester just closed, hm?” he grins, and your eyes twinkle as you reply — “mmm, i don't know. a study sesh like the one we just had, maybe.”

and his grin widens, canines flashing as he laughs. “can't say no to that, princess — you're on fire. and by the way, you're mine, too.”

“mhm.” you reach up, tangle your fingers in the thick, dark locks of his hair and pull him in for yet another kiss, smiling at how he shuts his eyes so cutely just before your lips meet. “i know ♡♡ .”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#baji smut #baji keisuke smut #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #baji headcanons #baji drabbles #baji x you #baji x y/n #baji fluff #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers headcanons

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crimeronan · 1 year

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been thinking about the rabies condition in writing lately, which is a GREAT post about stakes and characterization. basically exploring how if there's a 100% chance a character is doomed, then they can and will do extremely dangerous/damaging/contraindicated things for the slimmest hope of survival. which is one of my Favorite narrative devices

but while we're using health metaphors, i've been thinking about another somewhat complicated means of introducing character stakes, which i'm tentatively calling 'the autoimmune condition' for reasons that are. obvious

the premise itself is simple: the character has Something that they need to survive. they either can't live without this thing or they will lose something vital about themselves if they lose this thing. there is no replacement or alternative for the thing. what's most important are that the consequences for losing it are Extreme, rabies-condition-style

in the real life allegory, this is the immune system. which is great for being alive!

then the problem is introduced when this thing starts killing the character.

the character still needs it to live.

so: there is a 100% chance that you will die if you destroy the thing killing you. if you impair it through other means, there is a 100% chance of consequences, though the severity of those consequences is up to the author. (these are medication side effects in the real life allegory.)

if you do everything you're supposed to then you'll PROBABLY survive, but you're gonna have to play lifelong tug-of-war to balance everything, and you are often going to have to choose between two shitty options. bc there is no alternative.

this is a counterpart to the rabies condition in terms of stakes; with this condition, your character has to make complicated and difficult decisions about what they're sacrificing for their future. it's not the immediate life-and-death stakes of rabies, it's a slow decay instead.

what side effect consequences are they willing to take on?? and what are they NOT willing to take on?? where do their priorities lie in terms of symptom management?? what other solutions are they looking for?? what are they willing to sacrifice??

and perhaps most importantly: what exactly do they need to lose before they'll Accept the side effects / sacrifices that used to terrify them?? how high do the stakes need to be??

at what point is this character going to look back at the choices they've made up to this point, and realize that they no longer recognize themselves??

#have had this on the brain bc every medication i take or have taken related to my illness has a LAUNDRY LIST of terrible side effects #like most of them are only prescribed for very short periods of time #and the only reason they're ever prescribed for long term maintenance is if like. you will actually literally die otherwise.#you would not BELIEVE the side effects i'll weather to get my brain back. give it to a character #torment them. theres so much room for complication and messiness here. it's great #autoimmune tag #writing #writing advice #i guess?????#hopefully this is coherent. i tried to keep it concise #long post

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tealeavesandthorns · 4 months

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"Thy tongue outvenoms all the worms of Nile" | Maria x Gareth - Days of Youth

Summer seemed to have come around fast for Maria, she had turned 18 in the March and since then her life had been filled with the final exams for her a-levels. Summer, therefore, was supposed to be a time for her to relax before university, to allow herself to have all those experiences 18 year olds were supposed to want...

Maria, despite the urging from both parents and grandparents though was still reading, studying, working hard just in case there was even the slimmest chance she hadn't passed something - which was highly unlikely.

It was fair, that they worried she wasn't living her young life to the fullest. Maria had few friends, buried herself in books and couldn't resist correcting people. She'd been called everything at school and college from know-it-all to brainiac and had been used by others, so they could copy her answers, more times than she cared to admit.

Better, she thought, even if her family didn't agree, to stick to books, be content with the people around her and not worry about what everyone else seemed to think she was lacking. Life was long, she'd have plenty of time for silliness when she was older. Her Grandfather was testament to that.

Maria had come to the pub to give the illusion she was getting out of the house, she had still brought a book and a notebook with her. She would read the book, from her reading list, like she did with others she might write an essay on, once for pleasure then once for study. Concentration was becoming difficult as the evening chatter from the patrons in the pub grew the noise level and her concentration was entirely shattered when not to far from her a group of men were shouting, cheering, egging each other on and one of them was quoting Shakespeare.

"Oh for goodness sake," Maria finally snapped, almost, but not quite slamming her book down on the table. Her tone befitting someone much older and more matronly. "the line is:

The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile, but my full heart Remains in use with you. Our Italy Shines o’er with civil swords.

She put real emphasis on the words he had gotten wrong or mostly missed. "If you're going to disturb everyone's evenings rowdily quoting the bard the least you can do is get it right."

@dontcxckitup

#dontcxckitup #//here we go #I'm so excited about this haha

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zein-satsuki · 2 years

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Anthony (Angel Dust) X Top Male Reader

Hazbin hotel FanFiction contains Hella lot of smut and violence. Little small fluff to dear little Antsy (Anthony).

Not my art

"Remember little pumpkin pie, whenever I'm not by your side and you need a little company, just call out to me and I'll be there in split seconds."

"Really?"

"Yes my little baby I'll always be by your side."

3rd pov

M/N is always a weird kid. Oddly too quiet unlike the other children, far too obedient and thoughtful for the adults' taste. But when he get thrown the job to take care of the other children while his family is on vacation or some business dinner, he never complained about anything. In fact, he did it perfectly so with the convenience, his parents never thought of anything abnormal.

His younger sisters and brothers are just like any normal kid, annoying and noisy, but when M/N's around with them, they are strangely more quiet. His words has always worked better than his parents.

Well this eventually spiked their interest since it's Italian's most prized possession, their family relationship. So they relieve some of their time off the busy schedule of work and eventually started hanging around the house more. However they never get to be close with M/N since it's already too late and pass his childhood. His attitude's already shaped, peculiarities thrown to the back of his parents mind due to the other children to take care of.

Even with the burden of his schoolwork and family young 'uns he's still happy and optimistic with everything because of a friend he had in school Lorenzo. Lorenzo was a positive influence on him always being hyperactive and kind. However his curiosity always gets the best of him and that's how M/N get to befriend him. He was curious of the quiet boy sitting in the corner and went up to talk to him and get to know him more. Lorenzo always fight against the injustice treatment M/N gets at his household but M/N never blamed his parents for anything so he always dismiss such with some jokes or other things he in-store that's sure to attract the said male's attention.

They would go out and have parties together and have sleepovers at each others, talk on the phone till sleep and talk about love interest. They even tried watching porn together and that's how M/N found out he's more attracted to boys. It's like finding out a whole another world for Lorenzo asking M/N many stupid questions like did M/N secretly has feelings for him or things like does he want to be a girl only to get thrown pillows to the face to shut him up.

But when M/N's alone he thought about all those things and note to himself he definitely has no feelings for his weird ass bestie and doesn't wish to become a girl. Guess he's just attracted to guys more. And because of the low on EQ he told his parents about it. They were totally disgusted and ignored M/N like he doesn't exist secretly contacting mental doctors for him.

When they found one, let's just say it wasn't a good time. A terrifying one that's run by illegal association. M/N's parents just left him there for years only visiting when it's time for the so called medical fees. It was just pure torture having all the needles and pain of testing new stuff on him getting him sick and always strapped onto the bed to avoid him escaping. M/N endured it all, slowly getting a bit crazy in the inside. But he kept himself in, just for the slimmest chance of escaping. Then, he found one, one of the boss's kid, Anthony.

Remember that the first time they look eye to eye, M/N immediately knowing he's the one and just turn his gaze away afraid of scaring the youngster. While Anthony is just having a fit with his father's homophobic ass and tears hanging a little by his eyes with curses spilling out of his mouth. He is just looking for another sicko to yell at till he saw M/N, the tied up handsome in the cell that's spacing out. He's the type he likes the most, the reverse triangle shaped body and that face, especially that manly ass face definitely his type.

Anthony: Hey, what's a cutie like you doing here~

Then he noticed where he's at.

Anthony: Oh I'm gonna kill those fuckers for messing with ya...

M/N: Don't, you don't want to mess with them. I...I don't want them to hurt you.

The voice and the caring he had for him absolutely nailed Anthony in as he squeezed happily in his heart and just got more determined to save this one outta hell.

Anthony: Don't worry belloissimo, it's no biggie. Besides, I'd rather have you by my side than knowing that fucker (his father) doing something to ya and doing nothing!

M/N: It's fine, really. I don't blame you.

Anthony: No it's not! Okay? End of discussion!

M/N: Listen um...

Anthony: The name's Anthony. What about yours bell'uomo?

M/N: Hehehe... I'm M/N but you're free to call me anything you want.

Anthony: Then I'll keep with the nicknames then muscoli.

M/N: Heh, I'm not that fit.

Anthony: Ya kiddin'? Ya da buffest I seen around!

M/N: You flatter me. I'm not that good.

Anthony: But that you are, I just need to get you out here to look for yourself!

M/N: Yeah about that. I still wish that you don't do something, please.

Anthony: But...

M/N: Believe me, I have a plan...

He got disturbed by the far away yell upstairs as it frightened both of them.

Arackniss: Hurry the fuck up gay bitch! You're getting us late again with your crap!

Anthony: Oh shut the crap up will ya! I'm coming! (In yell) I'll come back to ya when I can sugar (in normal).

With that Anthony left in a hurry not without looking back a few times with worry present on his face. M/N just smiled and mouth to him a "I'll wait for you" as he watch till he completely descend through the door. Thinking back to his plan, he decided to postpone it a little to reconstruct it better so that he can take Anthony with him, since he clearly isn't enjoying it here too. He didn't miss the tears Anthony had when he was coming in.

It is his first objective to keep Anthony safe from every parts of his escapist. He waited patiently and acted numb to all the experiments like a lifeless being for the guards to loosen up. Day by day and finally he had all the things needed. Anthony came by as promised by the 15th of every month and this is the fifth time they're meeting.

M/N broke the straps off with the knife Anthony slipped him and used the identity card he stole from a guard to unlock the bomb he had on his neck. Then he got out the keys from the guards slowly unlocking the doors and closing it. It's night time so no one's really awake on the watch. He walked cautiously to the exit and met up with Anthony by the walls. When he saw him he immediately rush up to hug the guy. Anthony being as emotional too hugged back and they stayed for a few seconds before finally using the rope to climb out. Looking back at the prison one last time before getting called by Anthony.

Anthony: What's keepin ya hun? We gotta roll.

M/N: Coming Antsy!

He proceeded to hop off and opened his arms to catch his falling sweetheart Antsy. Anthony fall straight into his arms with an excited squeal and is starting to be touchy of his other parts too, like the packed chest he dreamt at night and craved to touch for so long.

Anthony: I've always wondered how these pieces of meat feels~

M/N: Well, is it to your expectations?

Anthony: Yup, absolutely muscoli, last time I checked. Hehehe... Come on let's get going mmf...

M/N closed in for a kiss with his tongues reaching in. Angel gone real red after and is just holding onto his burning face and sitting in silence at the back with his eyes seeming to be in a daze. M/N just chuckled and helped him buckle his seatbelt up. He him with his 'prisoner' coat while changing into regular ones himself. Then, he drove all the way to another country which isn't under the influence of Anthony's dad. By the time he reach there he's already tired the hell out, but looking back at Anthony that is chirping happily made him feel all the burden are lift off in a second.

They crash at a hotel nearby. By the time they're done, both are tired from the long journey across country and snuggle up in bed together. This is the first time they've been together without the bars between and yet they are already treating each other like the candy in their eyes. Nicknames is a natural thing along the drive to get here too. So...

M/N: Goodnight my dear Antsy.

Anthony: Good night N/N, (cute yawn)

Anthony's cute yawn just made the H/C haired male chuckle as he go in for another kiss causing another tomato faced blond. Snuggled in each other's arms, they sleep the night away with smiles on their faces.

In a flash it's already the morning. Anthony grunted from the rays of the sun and his hand searching for a certain warmth out of instinct. When he didn't find anything, he shot up straight looking around the room. No sign of M/N and this unfamiliar hotel. He panicked a little think the great escape is just all dream of his. His old habit of hair pulling from distressed started showing before a certain someone came in with a tray of breakfast.

M/N: Good morning sunshine! I brought you breakfast in bed.

Before he had the time to place it down the table side he was jumped and hugged by the blonde but the breakfast is still safely secured by his other hand. Proceeding to place the tray down he hoisted the male up earning a cute yelp from the boy and walk towards the bed. Caressing him gently and whispering sweet things in his ear to calm him down.

M/N: Remember little pumpkin pie, whenever I'm not by your side and you need a little company, just call out to me and I'll be there in split seconds.

Anthony: Really?

M/N: Yes my little baby I'll always be by your side.

Then the cuddly group move to the bed. M/N place the tray in Anthony's knee. He kiss the male on the cheeks again making him chuckle and return the kiss to his lips. It was just a really cute moment both of them enjoy really much.

Anthony: So, what's the plan?

M/N: Well, don't worry your pretty little head about it. Just know that I'll always have enough to support you for anything you want.

Anthony: But N/N, I want to help too! Please please please~

The puppy eyes specialty shone and struck M/N down immediately as he gave in. He never wanted Anthony to come out since gay is something that is still not accepted for this century and Anthony is just not that good at hiding it meaning he'll hurt himself if M/N's not careful enough.

M/N: Hm... How about the dance career you liked so much? And maybe being a model for fashion shows in the mean time?

Anthony: How's that gonna even help?

M/N: Well, there's a lot. You can boost my career ratings and help me advertise my things with your future popularity.

Then M/N just got pounce on again by the clearly excited and happy blonde loving the idea of it. Then just as M/N promised he spent the first bucket of money he got, all on Anthony's career with the dance instructor and the media sosial managing account to prevent any sort of toxic people from the future.

Despite the great development in both their work, they still had some troubles to deal with in certain times. Anthony with the pain and soreness from the practices and M/N from the high pressure of his large amount of work. M/N always helps him apply cream through his sore spots and Anthony offering his warm cuddles and funny jokes to lift M/N's spirit.

Sometimes these soft sessions ended up in steamy and smexy ones even though none of them had experience in this, they both went through some embarrassment of asking someone in the club and Anthony almost getting harassed if it weren't for M/N nearby. So the first sex session went on with a little bit of pain but enjoyable none the less and the other session just get better and better.

Anthony is addicted to the pleasure M/N brought him, the feeling of his hubby's cock snuggled up deeply in his prostate and his bigger and warm hands fisting Anthony's cock just made him feel so blessed to have him as his boyfriend. The cute and erotic face Anthony makes every time they had their little make out session together always makes M/N crazy for him and it'll ended up as a full sex session. Sometimes when both are too tired but still like the warmth of each other close up, cockwarming comes in handy. M/N stuffing his cock in gently to prevent hurting him as they nestle in the big comfy bed together. Or when M/N is busy working on his computer, Angel will be sitting between his feet sucking him off many many times.

Sometimes little harmless pranks played by Anthony with his work outfit gone missing or his breakfast booby trapped by spider candies. Sometimes it'll gone to teasing in bed or work (like dancing on the pole and a lap dance or purposely bending down to show his curves) ending up in an overstimulated Anthony later that requires a break day and a whole lot of aftercare containing cuddles and kisses. M/N never minded his jokes, unless it's cheating with others but knowing Anthony he'll never do something like that. After all, no one is able to overtake M/N in his heart.

Ten years passed and Anthony became the biggest hits of all knowing almost every dance in the world, you name it and he'll show it. M/N got affiliated by the gangs stuff because of Anthony's father finding their presence from the big hit of Anthony. He managed to crash the mafia family and climb to the top of the ring. M/N proposed to Anthony with cute animals around totally drowning him in tears as he squealed yes and yes over and over. The marriage was arranged and they got married with Anthony wearing a pink gown and M/N wearing a pink tuxedo just to suit Anthony's liking.

They became the happiest couple among their friends and almost every single one of them are envious of them. But do they care, nope!

World war II breaks out and everyone is in panic mode. M/N had to go into hide with Anthony always having armed men around them to prevent any sort of danger. But just as Anthony was having a drink off with his dear husband a gun was aimed at him and terror and agony happened in split second. Let's just say furious M/N is a living demon and no one would wanna mess with him.

M/N: You'll be okay, Antsy. I know you will.

Mumbling it over and over while waiting outside the emergency room. When the news about Anthony needing a heart to survive M/N offered his in instance just hoping he'll be in time to save his sweetheart without thinking if he himself is gonna survive through this. He disbanded his gang and left a large sum of money in Anthony's possession leaving all to his trusted secretary and moving onto the operating table not before leaving a message for his dear baby.

By the time all things have been done, Anthony woke up three days later to find himself unable to get up due to the numbness of the paralysis. Then he realised M/N wasn't beside him and look around to see his secretary standing beside.

Anthony: Tell me, where's my cuddly big bear?

Anthony was sure he could get an answer put of him quick but when he sees the man looking away a pang of insecurity rush up to him as he struggled to get up immediately aided by the secretary and he pulled the collar of the man once again with menace in his eyes.

Anthony: Tell me where the fuck is he!!!!

Secretary: sigh* Was gonna wait till you're better but... Guess boss was right after all.

He gave Anthony the recorder and left the room to give him some privacy. Anthony wanting to know about his husband whereabouts played it and a pang of relief wash over him.

(Recorder)

M/N: Test, test one two three. Hehe, never think I'll get to use this. Hello my precious, I'm sorry not being by your side. I just got a little bit of trouble in hand right now. Sorry for not bringing you along, but I promise with the monthly recordings to you alright? Just remember to stay happy like the little ball of sunshine you are. I promise I'll get back to you the second I'm free. And remember, I'll always be by your side physically or mentally. Goodbye my love.

Anthony kissed the recorder and hugged it tightly playing it over and over again already missing his dearie. He went to sleep everyday bathed in the sound of his dear husband and the feeling of missing him grew stronger and stronger every passing time. He got well and left the hospital eventually. Sending a lot of selfies and erotic pics to his husband through his secretary seducing the man and expecting to receive the recordings every month pass by.

But after a year of this, he got tired of just getting to hear his voice, he wanted his husband to be by his side so he started nagging the secretary about his whereabouts only to get avoided and excuses like M/N is still very busy and such. Then he got suspicious so he demanded for his husband and threatened him with a gun. He got his question answered and a box full of recordings. He couldn't believe it breaking down and shaking the man in front of him begging for him to tell him it's a joke only to have the man look away from him.

After that, he locked himself in his room for days without food or water crying himself to sleep and listening to all the recordings over and over again. And he noticed the love and care in the voice and the sorrow hidden so deep that made him into a tear filled mess again. Even though he's dragged out of his room by Molly his sister being fed and watered by her, things are still different from before. His eyes are always empty and sorrow filled getting glum and more glum suddenly falling sick. Then he was introduced to drugs by his dear comrades. It felt like heaven and hallucinations of M/N still by his side made him well again, but after the effects all was gone and he hated it, so his room was always filled with drugs.

In the year of 1945, the famous artist loved by everyone dead by the overdose of angel dust and donated all his money to the charity of animals. People mourned for his death since he is the star of many by heart and they made the death of his day another holiday just out of respect. His sister was devastated the most, blaming herself for Anthony's death. She left the sorrowful mansion after her brother's funeral for a tour around the world to help other depressed ones like Anthony. The secretary buried the married couple together and left the miserable mansion too.

Winding back to when M/N died...

Opening his eyes to feel the radiating heat and red coloured everywhere place and whole lot of scary creatures. Feeling like it was a dream he attempt to close his eyes back up before getting pushed by the one behind him to usher him forwards the line of reception into hell.

From his many experiences, he decided to obey first and look around to absorb more details as possible. When it's finally his turn he got his sins reported to him and a manual about how things go in hell. He was led to a big palace afterwards by an imp that bowed respectfully.

Then he met the fallen angel Lucifer and his respectful wife Lilith. Demonic and wonderful couple may M/N say. Seeing as they are the higher ups, M/N bowed to them and introduce himself.

M/N: Honoured to meet you, your majesty.

Lucifer: Hoho, no need for the formalities M/N, I'm Lucifer and this is my wife Lilith. I've had my eyes on you ever since you've nailed that world war. Just absolutely fascinating!!!

M/N: ...

Still thinking this was a sort of dream, M/N just got shocked by the straightforwardness of the king in his imagination his mind just went blank.

Lilith: Darling, I think you traumatised him a bit too much.

Lucifer: Oh, sorry. Just haven't met someone so strong from the human world for so long after that radio demon.

M/N: 'Hm? Demon world huh? Guess I'm still dreaming. ' What's the purpose of your call, my majesty.

Lucifer: Like I said quit with the formalities, I'm hiring you to be my guard. In exchange for a wish, anything you want dear, you could have it.

M/N: Is there a contract?

Lucifer: Ooh, just as I imagined cautious and charming.

Lilith: Darling~

Lucifer: On it deary.

A snap of a finger a demon fire appeared in the palm of Lucifer's hand as it smile evilly before presenting the piece of parchment with a pen and bottle of ink.

M/N read through the details and found it exactly respecting his boundaries and just a special condition of appearing whenever Lucifer calls. He nods agreeing to the deal not before scanning through it one last time at the back to prevent scam and signed the contract. Just as he was about to sign one certain blonde came up to his mind and he stopped, causing a frustrated sigh from Lucifer.

Lucifer: What seems to be the problem dear? Is the contract not suiting your taste?

M/N: No, not with the contract, just for the wish. Is the wish not restricted to anything at all?

Lucifer: Not if you wanted a raid to the heavens even if I want to do myself.

M/N: So restricted within hell huh?

Lucifer: Like your words yes darling.

M/N: Since you overlooked my life so much could you just help me lookout for my lover. just if he's in hell. 'I'm sure he will go to heaven, but just in case, I don't want this dirt hole to taint his soul anymore.'

Lucifer: Oh, that ravishing lover of yours! His whole family's down here like a spider colony you know. They'll probably want to recruit him too.

M/N: Then I'll just send them to double hell.

Lucifer: Hahaha, I like your thinking, you're indeed the one I'm looking for. But a certain overlord wants this soul too and he promised me a lot of goodies. You think you can manage enough in time?

M/N: I could help you fend off others that are uncontrollable and you can add in one more condition free as you please.

Lucifer: And that's what I'm looking for. Just another one...hm...done.

Lilith: Are you serious Luci dear? Help out with your paperwork?

Lucifer: Those overlords are too damn stupid giving me lots to sign and it's ruining our date too much!

Lilith: I literally can't with you.

Lucifer: Oh, you know you love me~ Could you sign and get out now, we'll be busy with you know? Time's ticking dear.

M/N signed the contract and and left with a bow while the parchment descend into the flames again sealing the deal off. He exits the palace and already received the large amount of cash by the king of hell.

He settled down and acted innocent from the gazes of the other forces just because he want to concentrate fully on his wrath project against the spider family. About the work with Lucifer, even though he helped with the paperwork (examined by the king a few times before completely leaving him his work) there are still a lot of work needed to be completed by the king himself. Lucifer having a fit with the small amount of work while Lilith eyeing for the H/C haired demon to go.

After enough info about the family he started his 2nd hell project destroying the whole family with his pet spider putting them into another loop. Seeing Stacy gobbled them up I gave her a pat on the head and a tint of my power as a treat for her great work before sending her back to my pocket space. I left before getting noticed by anyone since I made sure to place a sound containing barrier all over the mansion before I started my plan. Some demons caught on to the sudden missing family and decided it's a good chance to raid the empty mansion.

Well, M/N's not the kind of guy to leave goodies behind. He gathered his old followers that died from the world war and recruited them into his new opened company about star business. Yes he's picking up his old career of nourishing stars and dancer groups. M/N only accepted certain amount of people leaving the others for Valentino and Vox for their career too. Getting treated like normal in this hell hole sure isn't easy, but working under M/N, he ensures everything is under his control and none of his workers are harassed by other demons. This leaves some space for the demons to relax and act like how they're when they're alive.

M/N didn't have hell aboriginals working for him since humans know more about human cultures. His movies were a blast and nearly every demon waited in front of the TV just to wait for his show to air. Even the head of the goetia family Paimon pays him a visit to urge for another episode of R/N (random name) movie, with an exchange of a book of enormous knowledge for one day. Which he forgot was even in M/N's possession afterwards so M/N still has it.

M/N's workers are protected with the seal of the contract so whenever it's extermination day, they could still wander about freely without worrying about the exterminators. He made deals with the angels too, airing his movies in heaven only showcasing kids friendly content of course. Then finally come the day the radio demon got bored of his killing, he paid a visit to M/N's wanting to stir up some fun just to get restricted by the black panther demon almost taming him since he is an animal himself.

He got extremely furious and went all out with the shadows and tentacles just to fail miserably since all those are related to living beings and tamed under the power of M/N. Never having such a failure before, made the demon feel agony and fear making him hide into his shadow. M/N calmed him down and promised to make a deal with him only if he will never stir disturbance in his industry. Alastor agreed of course, he doesn't really have a choice to begin with. They started hanging out, M/N even introduced him to Husk the cat demon thinking they'll be great friends.

M/N waited for a very long time, not gaining any trace of Anthony. He's been numbing himself with work and alcohol just to get the hallucinations of having Anthony by his side again. Alastor and Husk were worried about him, but still had no power to do anything about the living world. They could only accompany the guy getting drunk together and having guys' nights out together. Mostly Husk having fun since Alastor is asexual and M/N is only interested in his hubby.

Even though Alastor was handling himself perfectly on the outside, M/N still sees through his mask and proceed to comfort him slowly relieving off his pain and grudge on his dark history.

This enables the scars to finally heal bit by bit enlightening both M/N and Alastor greatly while Alastor give his first ever body contact opportunity to M/N hugging him tightly and thanking him for all the things he did for him. M/N just lets out a relief sigh and rub his back gently as he cared for the demon even more in the future. M/N's care for the demons around him spiked his popularity to the top and this got into the princess's ear stimulating a thought of a certain hotel to pass through her mind.

Even though M/N wishes for the blonde to be my his side, he still wish he could be in heaven. He already made a deal with the angels to let his darling visit him once a month if he did ever went up there.

And finally the year of 1947, the death of the one he cared so much for. However the receptionist didn't get to inform M/N due to the name Anthony used for signing in, Angel Dust. Angel is craving drugs more than ever but he didn't have the money, then Valentino saw his body and the potential of the spider demon becoming a porn star. He baited him into selling his soul to him as he pay all his drug money. Angel still craving the hallucinations of his husband provided by the drug agreed to the contract.

Immediately regretting afterwards with the rough treatment of Valentino at his porn studio but the fame showering him again reminding him about M/N just left him dunked deeper into it until Valentino attempt to rape him. Sure he dances at the studio and gains fame, but he hadn't had sex with anyone other than his husband as he is only cock craved for M/N and M/N only and now this random demon wanting to rape him? No way. He punched Valentino in the face and move to get to the car door just to get slam back by Valentino that's furious by Angel defying his order. He ripped off Angel's stripper outfit and strap him down to the seats, cock placing at the entrance of the virgin hole attempting to go in raw.

Angel filled with despair remembering back to the words of his love and decided to give it a try.

Angel: M/N!!!!!!!!!!!!

He screamed in fear tears streaking his face as Valentino got surprised and frightened by the name of the powerful demon being called upon. He immediately covered Angel's mouth to stop him from summoning the demon. Then he realised something. Taking the picture out from his pocket and aiming at Angel a few times before horror filled his face absolutely. But it was already too late, the moment M/N heard the familiar as hell voice he miss oh so much he immediately apparated to the location to see Val's car? Oh hell no!

The car door torn down as it frightened both the demon in the car. Taking in the familiar scent and hearing the sobs as well as seeing the tears drained face are just as enough to put the man on edge. M/N put on his smile for his dear as he proceed to carry him with his coat wrapped all around his baby putting a small barrier to prevent the violence being seen or heard by the fluffy spider.

M/N: It's okay, deary. Your big bad muscoli is here for you now. Get some sleep my dear baby spider.

Gently ruffling the small fluff to sleep he turned his attention back to the tied up and gagged moth demon with special kind of materials preventing any use of power. Muffled pleases and begging could be heard as cold shine from M/N's eyes while his smile turning into a sinister yet dangerous one.

M/N: Oh dear little Val, hope you have it in you to endure the heat season of my dear pets. Hahahahhahahaha

Ignoring the pleads and looks from the demon he just threw him straight into the space and activated the strong drug stimulating every one of his pet's sexual desires while placing an undying charm on the moth demon.

Then, he teleported both of them back to his room straight away. He wanted to deal with all the photos and destroy every single demon that ever layed eyes upon his sweetheart before but the the fluff hugging him made him decide against it. He changed Angel into some comfy clothes and spoon him with his long tail wrapping around Angel's legs. Healing all the wounds and sore spots of his pink spider, he leaves a kiss on his forehead finally drifting off to Dreamland with his beloved.

After so many years of not having his beloved by his side, sleep didn't seem to be important unless he's drunk, knocked out by Al or get too exhausted to continue work. Finally getting the usual warmth and scent he craved so fucking much, he was knocked out immediately in deep rest consumed by the warmth Angel provides for him.

Angel must be really stressed from the work he had and he woke up late again. And M/N carried him all the way to the sofa facing the kitchen so he wouldn't panic when he wake up. He'll see M/N straight away. When M/N was done with the Italian breakfast, he felt three sets of fluffy arms wrap around his body engulfing him into more fluff. Taking in a deep breath of his lover's scent, M/N turn around to hug his beloved and clean his eyes off the new formed tears.

M/N: I'm sorry for not finding you earlier. I'm sorry for leaving you so soon. But my angel, I'll always love you forever and ever, even if it means not being beside you.

Angel: You stupid dumb dumb! Leaving me alone on the living world like that! Why can't you just take me... with you....

Sobs broke down as Angel feel the helplessness again but this time getting his hubby to embrace him and shower him with loving kisses.

M/N: I'm sorry, guess I shouldn't assume what's best for you.

Angel: You asshole!

M/N: I'll never do it again, I promise.

Angel: Hmph!

M/N: Aw, Angel! Please baby I said I'm really sorry. Please?

Angel: kiss on forehead* Only for this time, I forgive you, but no next time.

M/N: Yes my little wifey.

Feeding and brushing the spider, he tickles him softly through the same sensitive spot making the latter laugh and snuck his arms up to M/N's body wanting to tickle him back. Then M/N took this opportunity to check him up fully to find his soul... contracted... He was gonna release Valentino after a day but he just proved to him one day wasn't enough.

He didn't mention anything to his lover though having him cuddle with him as they speak on and on about their day without each other and how they miss each other very much embracing each other tightly yet again at the aforementioned. M/N finally took some day off from work to take Angel out on dates and introduce him to his friends.

If it wasn't for Vox paying M/N a visit crying and begging him to return Valentino, he'd forgotten about the moth demon completely. Returning the broke demon back to the TV demon, M/N hinted to take care of him in his vulnerable state and make him unable to leave his side. Vox is furious with the state of the weakened demon but can't help to like the idea of M/N.

Angel: Oh baby~ can you help me with my zipper?

M/N: You can get going now Vox. Oh, wait a second.

M/N walked closer to them making Vox take a step back, M/N just sighed and with a wave of his finger the contract of Angel's soul flew into his hands. A whiff of flame burnt it down to dust and he swipe the dust off his hands. Along with the charm breaking and healing off all the wounds.

Angel: N/N?

M/N: Coming!

He waved for them to get going as he went back inside his room to find Angel in one of the dress gown and a wig he collected for him. Fully pink and showing the curves of his body. Admiring his lover's beauty a little before walking up to him to pull up the zippers carefully not entangling with any of Angel's fur.

Angel: Well, like what you see big guy?

M/N: Yes absolutely. You're always enticing and ravishing my love.

He wanted to kiss Angel but got stopped by the spider hands holding him back.

Angel: Nuh uh babe, I just had my make up on not having you ruining it again.

M/N: But Angel~

Angel: Nope, not happening. We can smooch and cuddle all we want when we get back.

M/N: Fine then mmf...

Angel: Well a little peck should cool you off a little.

Angel sashayed away leaving the stunned male behind. Their life so far had been amazing, M/N didn't let him go to work anymore since they are already wealthy enough, just taking the spider to all sorts of dancing studios to dance together or going out to have a fun of shooting and destroying things with her bestie Cherry Bomb. But today is a special day. M/N brought him to a fancy restaurant, having all their friends at the back, they ate and flirted for a while before M/N made a toilet break excuse to go to the back. Then all of them started singing happy birthday surprising the male playing with his utensils out of boredom. M/N came from the back of the group of people positioning himself in front of Angel and he got down to one knee taking out an beautifully decorated pink box from his pocket. Opening it and say,

M/N: Will you make me the happiest demon alive by marrying me once again my dear Angel?

Angel still surprised and all from the big group totally broke down in tears nodding over and over again reaching out one of his arm for the panther demon to take his hand. Three rings are slip into the hands of Angel since he has three sets of arms. Patiently waiting for M/N to be done before totally losing his composure and leap into the male's embrace. Their friends and colleagues clapping as the couple engulfed each other in a deep heartfelt kiss.

When they got home, Angel is pushed on to the bed by the panther. M/N undressing teasingly as Angel slip off his dress too. They gone into another heated make out session again as M/N's hands went to the back of Angel to take his bra off. Exchanging kisses while their hands roam around each other hands intertwined as M/N started making hickies all over Angel not enough to hurt him though. The body's quite sensitive to stimulations so a beautiful moan got out and he's dripping pre cum with M/N's hand making it messier.

Getting limp from all the pleasure, Angel attempt weakly to wrap his hands around his lover. M/N getting the emotions he's feeling, helped him wrapped around and pull him in for another make out session tongues swirling around each others'. This time with more experience, M/N brought out lube for Angel inserting slowly when Angel's distracted with the kiss and the hand stroking his shaft.

Getting intruded suddenly made Angel feel slightly discomfort, but the hand teasingly stroking his cock's sensitive head just brought back the pleasure twice.

Angel: Cumming...ugh...cumming...N/N, can I?

M/N: You may do as you like Angel, no need to ask.

Angel: Ugh ah...ah...hah...Ah!

With a panting moan, Angel came thick ropes all over M/N's hand, getting some onto M/N's face too. Noticing Angel's gaze, M/N smirked and lick the cum off showing his long tongue and teasing gaze immediately getting Angel up for him again.

Angel: Please, stop teasing me N/N. Ah, I want you please~ ah-AHHHH no not so suddenly...agh...

M/N poked the prostate that seemed to be at the same angle as before and rubbing it gently making the spider squirm and thrust into his hands moaning out loud. The veins already popping out of M/N's forehead showing that he himself is controlling himself hard to not pound straight into his lover right away. Angel was too drown in pleasure to notice and wanting to be hugged and embrace he pulled M/N down yet again to kiss him hard and passionately. It got too much so M/N started inserting bit by bit.

Angel: Ah! no...too big...no...

M/N: Relax my dear, I promise you'll feel really...ngh... good.

Sucking the sensitive spot of his neck and caressing over his spider thighs distracting him from the pain before moving bit by bit to go in entirely. Relived and satisfied sigh of being filled to the brim make Angel want to hug M/N even more as M/N whispered praises and complements to him, pampered him till he's ready for M/N to move.

The hot cavern clamping down hard on M/N's sensitive organ makes him want to pound straight in but just for his lover, he waited patiently and thrusted in slow pace and gradually picking up the speed when Angel tells him to. He buries himself in Angel's chest fluff and lick the nipple covered underneath making the spider moan even louder as hands were felt pushing his head deeper into the fluff. Servicing and pleasuring his lover is another whole ecstacy for the H/C haired demon. Especially getting to see the lewd face and feeling his legs and hands wrap around him moaning cutely fishing for compliments. How could anyone resist anything like that?

Unfortunately this is the first time they had sex as demons so after one round, Angel needs to rest. One last thrust bringing out the pleasured moan of his lover which soon turned into a surprised and terrified scream when Angel felt spiky things engraving into his walls overstimulating him hard as hot splashes of cum pooled into him made him unconscious being too intensive. M/N feeling his cock growing the spikes too as he shoot buckets of cum into Angel but unable to pull out due to the spikes.

Never meant to exhaust his lover, M/N kiss the sweaty spider lovingly before concentrating hard to make his cock normal again. When it swell down, he pulled out gently as cum ooze out of Angel's abused hole making the latter whimper with tears hanging by his eyes. Kissing them away, he cleaned the cum and cleaned his body with a wet cloth. He checked for any injuries, found none but still used his power to heal him up a little not wanting him to feel any sort of discomfort. Then, helping Angel into one of his T-Shirts knowing it will be gone since Angel will be hogging them later. Hugging him tight, covering both of them in the huge blankets and casting a barrier unless some brain-dead wandering in to disturb them.

The next day, Angel wake up early free from pain and soreness. He immediately knew it was his hubby's doing and snuggle deeper into his embrace looking at his husband's handsome face, thinking they are made for each other after all, with him the beautiful flower and M/N the big powerful man protecting him from everything. Oh he adored the ring so much too! The love shaped diamond ring totally complementing his long slender fingers. The sudden movement around his waist shook him out of his deep thoughts.

M/N: Good morning hubby, sweet dreams?

Angel: Yeah, dreamt of the day of our wedding.

Exchanging a lovely little kiss M/N pull him in closer ears fluffing and tail wagging at the thoughts too.

M/N: I'm looking forward to that day too my love.

Angel: By the way, what's with the spikes at the end of our session last night?

M/N: Oh! I guess animal instincts followed and it ensures the probability of fertilization. I'm sorry I didn't research it through. Sorry for making you unconscious last night.

Angel: Nah, no biggie, I had a lotta fun too.

Angel rub his nose with M/N's showing a cute smile that melt M/N's heart straight away as he hug the spider demon squealing manly on how can his treasure be so cute and another ton of compliments making Angel flush fully getting embarrassed.

He pushed M/N away shooing him to go prepare breakfast as he got ready for the day. M/N did a simple a bacon and eggs and went to search for his lover. Angel seemed to be having a problem with his tangled fur pain evident as he pulled the brush. M/N rush to his aid lowering Angel's hands that are hurting himself before gently and carefully untangling the mess and smoothing it all out. Trained by professionals he set up Angel's hair perfectly. Gentle purrs heard from the spider as the brush went through his hair again and again.

After the hair, M/N had a bath himself while Angel enjoys the breakfast soon joined by M/N after the bath. Shared kiss before holding hands and going to their work at the same place of course, M/N wouldn't imagine letting Angel leave his sight in this dangerous place.

Just as M/N was about to start with his work, the phone rang attracting the couple's attention. Angel was closer so he answered the phone call.

Angel: Hello, Ant company how can I help you?

Angel: The boss, alright hang on a little.

Angel handed the phone over to M/N and turns out it was Lucifer's butler. He brought a message about Charlotte Lucifer's daughter wanting to start a rehabilitation hotel being encouraged by M/N.

M/N: So, what's the need for this call?

Butler: Assist her.

M/N: I'm...

Butler: Busy as hell with work, you can have someone replacing but the one helping her must be from you.

M/N: Well that's fine by me. I'll send Alastor and Husk over. Is that all?

Butler: That's all, have a good day sir.

Angel: What's all that about?

M/N: Just a soon to be built hotel for rehabilitation.

Angel: Well, that sounds like fun!

M/N: But baby it's dangerous.

Angel: I don't care, you'll be by my side if I call to you, will you not?

M/N: Of course I will baby.

Angel: Hey, I could even bring Cherri along to the hotel, haven't had entertainment for so long in this red filled place!

And that's how Angel join in the gang of the Happy hotel or Hazbin Hotel by Alastor. Being the prankster and the tease, meeting Alastor and his asexual personality spiked Angel's interest to the fullest with constant teasing but nothing too overboard even though Alastor would never harm him because of his bond with M/N. And with Husk the cat demon, that's even more fun with the cat grass, drunken honest talk and laser beam play. However with the princess there are only so much he can do, being prank calling and dildo stash somewhere. And Vagatha that easily angered women, fun just absolute fun.

Some of M/N's workers also volunteered themselves as test subject for the rehabilitation project since they've been wanting to leave this hell hole for ages now, otherwise they won't hide in M/N's company.

After several years, rehabilitation worked with the first purified soul accepted to heaven. Charlie got really emotional laughing and crying in Vaggie's arm. Angel got the rehabilitate opportunity too but he declined because he wanted to stay with M/N. This broke M/N's heart completely and firmed his thoughts about rehabilitating himself and transfer all his work to his trusted second hand with Lucifer's agreement.

The pink door of the room opens to reveal a marriage photo of Angel in tears holding a pink piggy named Nuggets. It was a wedding gift by the animals of M/N.

He treated Fat Nuggets like his child and spoiled him with all sorts of things. He also likes playing pretend with the piggy as the child him as a wife and M/N as the husband. It was fun for M/N too seeing his Angel squealing cute and taking pictures here and there for Voxgram while unknown that the spider himself is acting really cute too.

There was one time when the hotel members got too annoyed by the harmless but endless prank everyday, this made Alastor planned on a revenge prank with Angel. They snuck Nuggets out from his pink furnished room when M/N took him out on a date. When they arrived back, Husk got assigned to distract M/N away from Angel when the terrible scene happened.

Angel: Fat Nuggets! I'm home!

Getting no reply by the pink piglet made Angel slightly worried as he started panicking while searching around the hotel for his pet.

Angel: Nuggs? Sweetie? Come out to Daddy, Papa is here too, oh please be okay. Please...

Then he turned a corner to see the lights on in the kitchen with sounds of silverware. Door opening to show Alastor eating a midnight snack of unknown animal. At first, Angel didn't think of nothing and was about to ask Alastor about his piglet when he saw the plate of steak in front of him.

Angel: Um, Al?

Alastor: Yes my dear?

Angel: Whatcha eating there.

Alastor: Well you see I was craving meat especially right now and the butcher had already closed up, so I had to help myself to the stock available in this hotel!

Angel: You...you...you must be joking.

Alastor: Well, little warrior put up quite a fight might I say, squealing such music...

Angel: Ahhhhhh!

Angel pounced onto the radio demon making him fall as well tearfully while glaring at the man below him ferociously.

Angel: How dare you! You sick freak, all this for some harmless jokes!!!!!!!

Alastor: Get off of me this instance or I'll make you regret it!

M/N: Angel?

Nuggets: Oink Oink.

Angel: Nuggs? NUGGS!

He ran up to his pet jumping onto his husband again while taking the piglet off of M/N's head.

Angel: You're okay, you're okay, never leave daddy's and Papa's side again ever.

M/N being utmost confused by the situation just saw Angel's tears and Alastor dumfounded face to the plate on the table, then it all got to him split seconds.

M/N: Not cool of you, Al. Are you guys in on this too?

He questioned calmly as he caressed his fluffy husband's back in circles calming him down while Angel buried into him. The sobbing that are still visible pained M/N really much making him really close to snapping if Alastor don't speak up quick enough.

Alastor: I'm sorry M/N. Just wanted him of his own taste.

M/N: You should've get me to do it instead of planning all of these things to hurt my dear Angel.

Alastor: ...

M/N: I'll leave Angel to decide what to deal with you guys tomorrow you sickos. Especially you Al, I know it's your idea. Can't believe I trusted you. You guys better think of an apology tomorrow or I'll wreck you guys apart instead!

Then the angry demon stomped away with his crying husband in his arms. The crew feeling guilty especially Alastor feeling like shit after M/N shattered his heart completely with those words. He never wanted to loose his friend. He just acted what he thinks is best and... maybe... no, he'll have to apologize later.

Angel won't let Nuggs go for the whole night. He didn't even let M/N leave the bed wanting to just cuddle and sleep like that. M/N sighed and helped themselves into PJ's with his power and big spooning his husband along with the piglet.

Angel: You'll never disappear on me right?

M/N: Yes, I promise. If I ever my soul will be obliterated completely my the thunders and I wil...

Angel put his hand on his man's mouth preventing any other courses from coming out.

Angel: No. That's enough for me, I love you so much M/N.

M/N: I love you too, my Angel.

They shared a passionate good night kiss before turning in for the night succumbing in each others' warmth. The next day Charlie offering a cruise trip bring Alastor green to his face as he puked once the cruise started. Brought Angel a lot of laughs as M/N just watched lovingly from the sides. Alastor made up with Angel by the end of the trip as M/N gave the radio demon a temporary charm of preventing sea sickness obeying his darling's wish. Alastor apologized to M/N too, tears evident as the H/C haired demon sighs and forgave him. He engulfed him into another hug before getting pushed away by the furious pink spider saying "This one's mine, get another one you dumb ass strawberry pimp!" Alastor just rolled his eyes to this while M/N chuckled a lot hugging his deary.

Years later, Angel woke up in his man's arms to see the halo on his head too. He squealed happily and shook M/N awake pointing to the top of his head. M/N just woke up a bit confused but notice the glow and he grabbed onto Angel's hands too.

Finally descending to heaven, the couple having a happy smile knowing they will always be by each other, no matter what.

#top male reader #hazbin hotel #angel dust #alastor #husk #hazbin hotel smut #angel dust x male reader #angst

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sadtonight · 2 years

Text

"Goodbye, my love..."

Summary: when you got the chance to go back to your world you turned to your lover...knowing well that was the point of no return;

Characters: dorm leaders;

Warnings: angst, bittersweet/bad endings, reader is from another (our) world, reader is gender neutral, established romantic relationships;

Side notes: finally living up to my username. Strangely enough, I avoid reading these or similar prompts all together. I don't like angsty things without something that brings content to both the characters and the readers alike. I guess I have written this work because writing in some sort of diary is ultimately worthless, but if I transfer my sadness onto art, it would at least serve some kind of purpose?

Riddle

— one of the first to hear your story and one of the first to tell you goodbye;

— Heartslabyul was first dorm to welcome you like it was your home. You felt comfortable enough to share your issues that you struggled with, words coming out of your mouth rather effortlessly. After all the help you have given, Riddle couldn't sit straight and watch you suffer, thus he vowed to aid as much as he could, especially when you two got together;

— the male wasn't delusional when it came to your situation: if Twisted Wonderland is not your world, your belonging and it contains so little of your history it's natural that you must return back to where you lived. It's logical, it's correct, it's right;

— it's how supposed to be...The red haired recalled each and every abysmally dark night when he was restlessly convincing, reasoning and pleading himself to digest and accept the fact, while trying to fall asleep so he could get rid of the unwanted thoughts;

— as the time went by, Riddle couldn't contain his frustration anymore, lashing out more despite promising to do better. The tears, from anger along with sadness, glinted ever so slightly in the boy's big grey eyes, were noticed by few and addressed even less;

— his behaviour took a toll on you too, doubts looming over your like a phantom. So now it was the Heartslabyul dorm leader's duty to reaffirm your resolution. It was Riddle's duty as a lover to reassure you of your choice that you were still unsure about;

— the male thought that it would be him wiping away your warm tears, drawing circles on you back and placing soothing kisses, just like you did to him when he was at his lowest. However, heavy tremblings and hitched breath were not the things he wanted to give with you that dreadful day;

— one parting embrace and "I will miss you, my dear" ruined the seemingly impervious facade. Even with all possible rules Riddle has tortured himself to learn and follow over the course of his life, ever since he had lost you, he didn't know how to live his life anymore....

Leona

— unsurprising, really. As if his already bleak life could get any worse;

— turns out it could and it made Leona's blood boil hot in his veins with quick pulse ringing in his limbs. Not the same sensations he usually experienced when his team won tough Spelldrive matches. It was simultaneously cold and hot fury colliding, as if his body was filled with sizzling hot steel;

— you came into his pitiful life and planted the seeds of hopes in his heart. Savanaclaw dorm leader hasn't been positively motivated to do anything for the longest of time, until you showed up. With your stupid smile and easygoing attitude you wormed into his mind, leaving him wondering if there is any slimmest chance that he could live happily with you;

— it was your fault Leona couldn't look straight into your sorrowful eyes anymore. He sneered at you sorry state, proclaiming to not set foot into the mirror chamber until you disappear when the fateful day would come, acting as if those vicious words did hurt his tongue like he was licking a sharp dagger;

— the second born prince kept his promise, but you knew him well, feeling his presence nearby: tall animalistic figure standing outside the room in the shadows, awaiting to crawl back to it's den;

— it was the second most impactful defeat Leona has experienced. If he was to be there, right beside you, he wouldn't comfort you or wish you well, no, he would break the grand dark mirror, reduce it to ivory sand, thus dragging you to the intangible demise along with him and your possibilities of living a proper life;

— instead he sacrificed himself and your relationship, turned his heels around and started walking away upon hearing people with whom you were friends with rebuke the pathetic lover he was, feeling his palms sting from talons piercing the flesh. One way or another, Leona would be left with nothing but regrets, no matter what decisions he has taken or had the ability to make...

Azul

— it was ridiculous that there was nothing he could do! He tried his best to crawl out of murky waters only to sink into bigger, darker ocean of despair;

— if it wasn't for the great lengths of effort Azul has went through, he wouldn't be having everything he possessed. That of course included you, his most treasured acquisition attained by making many steps starting from his childhood;

— and to think it was nowhere near enough: because he was never enough for someone as great as you in the first place. Octomer couldn't fathom why had he listened to your lies, why had he opened up to you in the most tiniest, vaguest ways possible, let you bend himself to your will and wishes;

— you broke the very contract conditions you comically read out loud to him before signing the papers, agreeing to love him forever and ever along with never leaving him, using his favourite fountain pen. The gift which Azul got from your tender hands on his birthday. He put equally as much care and dedication to the thing as he put towards you;

— despite you arguing that you always loved every feature of his body and every bit of his personality, your lover couldn't be convinced otherwise: with a shaken voice and buckling knees which threaten to give away, in complete desperation Azul kept begging you to tell him what was wrong with him, what must be fixed so you wouldn't leave him and stay;

— and what could you say to that? You held him while he was painfully weeping, like he was back to being little detestable octopus again. Everything was spinning when the two of were going to the mirror chamber. It seemed more like you were seeing Azul away rather than the opposite;

— you both knew he would recover, you squeezed his hand lightly, as if seeking confirmation. To which your lover raised his head, trying to maintain natural expression while not break down crying once more. Azul will be fine, in weeks, months and years he will be better than he was and is today. You will be proud of what he will become and you will return to him, one day, with all the efforts he will make...

Kalim

— nooo, it was way too early to say good-byes when the two of you just started!

— Kalim never imagined counting time along with days so diligently prior to the news of you leaving. You were near him all the time: you accompanied him everywhere to the point of it getting in the way of Kalim's life. But he didn't care, he had to show you and tell you everything he could, even though his feet were tired and mouth ran dry;

— it took your lover some time to grasp that you couldn't stay. No matter how much he desired to be together or him running away with you, deep down the male had already realised that the stakes were too high on both ends, with each party losing something significant in return;

— there was no place for selfishness, meaning that Kalim had to make the most of the little time he was left with. Thus, the plans for the grandest departure party were worked out with the whole dorm helping and white haired male taking up the organizer's role;

— his laughter echoing in the boundless empty yet starry sky, his tears watering the treacherous desert, his movements erratic and animated, his stomach full of delicacies but aching as if from unquenchable hunger. You really did have lots of fun that day, and yet, you just couldn't shake melancholy away, watching your lover waver like a candle light in thick darkness;

— when time for your leave came, Kalim smiled like he always did, only glistening crimson eyes and soft sniffles betraying true feelings that he had no intentions of hiding. The boy wanted to give so many precious gift but instead had to give you his words. He tried writing his speech down, only to find that it would take to much paper, so at last he settled on speaking directly from his heart like he always did;

— everything he ever wanted you to have was happiness: for you to have kindness to yourself and others, for you to be in blissful serenity of no troubles bringing you down, for to find the best path in life and follow it. "Just please, be sound and happy for me, okay...?" were his final, parting words after which Kalim smiled, truly being glad to have met you.

Vil

— he has already been aware of how things work in the world: villains never get happy endings, there is no 'happy ever after's;

— but to say that with this knowledge it didn't faze Vil at all when news were broken to him by you...well, the shadow that fell on his face was the evidence of his true emotions despite his best efforts to appear as calm as an actor and model could possibly master;

— in reality, inside Vil was hurting so, so much he thought that he would burst. When he was heading back to his room, no soul dared to disturb the Pomefiore dorm leader, whose face now turned visibly paler even with several layers of make up;

— the second the click from the lock went off, male's back softly hit the door as he painfully shot his head upwards, gloved hand immediately reaching to catch falling tears. It felt like his body would collapse if he stayed on his feet for even longer than a second, thus Vil threw himself on the bed, clutching his pillow in a tight grip along with smothering his face into it's plush all while bitterly crying;

— make up and bedsheets will be damned, those trivial things could be replaced but another person?? Whom he was unfortunate enough to fall in love with in spite of knowing how they turned up in Twisted Wonderland? He was such a fool...

— Vil never regretted his time spent with you, he saw a potential and tried to nurture it in his own fashion. And whilst doing so, he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster, flirtatious words escaping his lips and eyes never leaving your figure once they caught the sight of you;

— all nice things has to wither when you are the villain — you do not deserve hero's honours. That's precisely why your lover was so insusceptible, actings like usual with only difference being him lightly scolding you for hesitating when both of you stood in the quite corner of the mirror chamber;

— you hugged you lover for one last time, Vil combing his long slender fingers through your hair, smiling wistfully. His only hope is for you to finally find your hero, with whom you shall find find everlasting bliss.

Idia

— there is nothing a man can't do. Even bring back those who are no longer here;

— the fear. This bone chilling feeling that was steadily creeping up within you with every encounter and visit: your lover, with madness in his eyes, run around the whole Night Raven in search of parts and components, working on his project without getting a silver of sleep or rest, going as far as to placing his hobbies onto his younger brother's hands;

— he was working on... you. Non organic version— consisting of metal, wires and magic. Fortunately for your sanity, the outside body parts like your face were still in the making but you were neither oblivious not ignorant person so with only seeing robotic structures barely coveted by white cloth you knew it was none other than you;

— that's how Idia copes, by finding substitutes to everything he lacks or that has been taken away. Maybe, it's because behind his cynicism and cold approach even to things dear to him he still cares. So much so that he can't let it go;

— lanky male knew he would lose you one day, due to his fault or your will and some time later into your relationship he started working on the project off and on. Just in case so he would be prepared. It was like bringing additional set of armour to a boss fight, no?

— you tried to bring Idia back, trying to shake off his delusions but untimely it was useless. You almost considered turning headmaster Crowley down and staying, however Ortho promised to take care of his older brother instead of you;

— you felt sick to the stomach seeing your poor lover curled up on the floor, passed out from exhaustion yet the skin around his eyes still being wet and reddened. You managed to drag his body onto the bed and tuck him in. It was almost time for you to leave, you were about to rise from the bed when you caught a sound of Idia's murmuring;

—"...'s all my fault" was barely audible, but it hurt just as if it was yelled at you, stabbing you right in the ribcage. You gently caressed his face and hair, shaking your head despite him not being able to see, admitting in a quivering voice: "No Idia, it's all my fault. I'm the only one to blame..."

Malleus

— the fae frequently told you how scared he was of losing you;

— a silent, comfortable moments would bring up all those worries: of your lifespan, of his position and of the fate both of you have to experience ahead;

— like a caring father, Lilia had made attempts to warn Malleus of the concept of loss. Although, bat fae could go as far without opening his own old, healed wounds and scars, thus preventing young prince from getting in touch with emotional, or sometimes, physical pain;

— that's why he felt... numbness. There was nothing: no anger, no sadness, no desperation. It rattled him to no end that he felt nothing. Not even dark grey clouds that he unintentionally created or your sudden sorrowful demeanor sparked that anguish which Malleus knew he was supposed to feel, and yet...

— he was empty. His figure, near deserted lots and buildings, as if swaying in the distance due to misty rain that engulfed the college grounds, all alone in reminiscence of warm times he spent together with you;

— dragon fae had one fatal trait: the time never waited for him, days and weeks turning into mare minutes. He was on his way back to his dorm, silently walking along wet sidewalk, when his foot stepped into the puddle making a splashing sound that caught male's attention. Malleus casted his eyes downwards and saw his own grim reflection. It was then he realized that it was time for his lover's departure;

— he turned around so fast his breath got knocked out of his lungs, and in instant he appeared in the mirror chamber. But it was too late: remnants of you figure dissolved in a blinding light right before his eyes. The attempts to catch just a piece of you with his hand before there was nothing left to grasp were futile. You were gone... just like that;

— when the life took a turn to better, it was ripped from Malleus hands. It all came down crushing, thoughts he tried his best to ignore: soon, your being would also perish. Your appearance, your voice, your character and your mark on this world. At some point, Malleus will be the only one who can prove that you ever existence in Twisted Wonderland;

— he finally understood: it was grief he felt all along, and he was mourning you — his first and last lover ever...

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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bionicle-ramblings · 6 months

Note

So here's a thought What if the Toa Mata/Nuva got turned into Hordika It's something I've seen that's not really talked about enough in the community, but like, come on, can you imagine it?

Oooooh, man

I haven't read the books with the Toa Mata/Nuva, but I do remember the TLDR's from recap videos and there's a lot you know about a character from the community

Tahu would have a short fuse, like drop of a hat short. Maybe he'd ve leading the charge to find Keetongu so they're all cured, but the moral sometimes leads to just, "I don't want to move. I could be leading them to nothing. If that's where we're going, what's the point?"

If Gali wasn't the glue before, she is now, and that leads to her being VERY keyed up because she's fighting so hard to keep her brothers untied and moving forward, even when things look bleak

Kopaka is a little further from the group in physical distance, but he and Tahu get into fights and they need to be pulled off each other

And then there's Lewa, Takanuva, Onua, and Pohatu

They're still experiencing the negative side effects of the Hordika Venom, especially Onua, who falls in a bit of a depression himself and is sometimes not easy to get up when the team needs to move, but before there's any dwelling and getting lost in it, there's Lewa dive bombing and riling them up so they can chase him around. Takanuva in particular is a fun play buddy because he's "the youngest," in the Toa's eyes. Pohatu TOTALLY joins in after a second and Onua, after watching and maybe after some encouragement from Pohatu, joins in, and it becomes a 2v2

On another note, Takanuva may be joining Lewa in play, but he helps break up the fights between Tahu and Kopaka and has left the group at various points because Tahu thought he was bluffing any time he threatened to leave them. He also helps keep spirits high, being one of the Toa that believes they will find a cure for their murations, being there when Gali needs to take a second and let herself cry because being the glue of the group is stressful even without mutations, helping Onua not give into his sorrow, making sure Kopaka isn't too far behind, even reminding Tahu that their team wasn't the only one to be mutated and if the Toa Metru were cured, there's a chance they can be as well, and the slimmest chance is one he's willing to take

This kinda ended up longer than I thought it would, and I need to read to read the Toa Mata/Nuva books, but that's all I've got 😅

#bionicle #ramblings #takua #tahu #gali #kopaka #lewa #pohatu #onua #toa mata #toa nuva #hordika #ask post #thanks for the ask!#kind of a long post

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daffythefox · 9 months

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Feeling a bit of a human connection and oversharing about yourself, about your trauma, about your deepest secrets and fears, just for the slimmest chance of feeling genuinely connected to someone, only to come away from it feeling hollow.

Because to you, you might as well have been telling them a story from some novel. Even now, after you've told them everything you can think of that might let them in on who you are, it's still not enough. The problem was never the being known. You aren't able to build those bridges in the first place. You got burned so badly your body took away the ability for you to do so. So you just have to watch your relationships from a distance, safe but just so far away.

You finally work up the nerve to touch your friend, to hug them, and you phase right through them. And while you're stunned, trying desperately to do anything to make contact, the other person looks down at you and says "it's so nice to finally be able to hug you like this". And you want it to happen so bad, you pretend like it's happening, but you have to wrap your mind around the fact that you felt nothing.

And you're terrified you'll never be able to.

#actually npd #npd #actuallynpd #social phobia #actually cptsd #a bit of a vent #for my regulars not a relapse #just thinking about what's causing my inability to create connections with others that feel real to me #me when i

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voraciousvore · 3 months

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Hot Chocolate

Ever imagine being a tiny on a freezing cold day, and sitting on a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate? :3

Winter-themed g/t vore oneshot below (2.1k words)

Content warning: soft, fatal, willing vore (an unusual combination, I know, but this is my version of comfort vore, as bleak as it may be)

Life was always hard for tiny people in a giant world, but this winter was especially brutal. The snow accumulated on the ground higher than we were tall, turning the landscape into a frozen white wasteland. Food was scarce as the plants withered and died into bare skeletons. The cold was bitter and biting, significantly worse than in previous years. Most of the time, us tiny folk would hole ourselves up in underground shelters with stashes of supplies and hope for the best until spring.

However, this year, calamity struck. A blizzard destroyed our shelter, ripped open our tunnels, and exposed us to the harsh elements. Wild animals raided our stores of salted meat, grains, berries, and nuts, and the flesh-eaters devoured many of our own before we could fight them off with sharpened spears fashioned from twigs. In the aftermath, most of us starved from lack of food or died from exposure. When a gigantic fox attacked us, I was separated from the rest of the group, and I returned to find my entire tribe demolished, their red blood still bright and fresh in the white snow.

I was alone, and I knew no matter how much I struggled, I probably would not survive the winter. I fought my internal despair as savagely as I fought the external world around me. The woods were a severe and unforgiving environment, full of life-threatening hazards and carnivores. My clothes were threadbare from snagging on thorns and branches, and failed to protect me sufficiently from the chill. I was hungry, tired, and cold—so horribly, painfully, agonizingly cold.

Without the support of my family, I realized there was only one place for me to go where I might have the slimmest chance to live. I desperately needed food, as well as clothing and tools that I lacked the skill to fashion on my own. I might be able to find some raw materials in the forest, if I got lucky, but supplies were more plentiful in the giant city nearby.

I dreaded going anywhere near the giants, though. They were extremely dangerous, miles tall, and aggressively hungry for any human morsels despite how ridiculously small we were compared to them. Despite us being no larger than the size of a giant fingernail, they viewed humans as special delicacies, and would typically eat any human they discovered without hesitation, purely for pleasure. They also possessed a keen sense of smell for hunting any humans that attempted to hide from them. Normally, I would avoid the giant city like the plague.

In this case, though, I was desperate. I didn’t know what else to do. So I left the relative safety and quiet emptiness of the woods for the hustle and bustle of the city. On my way there, I rubbed pungent herbs all over my clothes and body in the hopes that they would successfully conceal my scent. The snow would probably wash some of the smell off, but it was worth a try. Fluffy flakes fluttered down from the gloomy gray sky, and I picked up the pace so I wouldn’t get buried under layers of snowfall.

I emerged from the trees to a plain of white and gray. The silhouettes of titantic buildings far in the distance, speckled with yellow lights from the windows, gradually sharpened through the brumal flurries as I approached. When I finally reached the roads, I found them slushy and wet. I was splashed by frigid, dirty, salty water that chilled me to the bone whenever a gargantuan car roared past. The wetness saturating my clothes only added to my misery and made me freeze faster. I shivered uncontrollably as I watched my breath form visible puffs in front of my face.

I was reaching a point of no return: Either I would find salvation here, or perish a heartless death, with nobody to mourn me. As I trudged through the layers of snow and slush, I was having increasing difficulty forcing my legs forward. I kept having to brush piles of snow off my head and shoulders and shoes. My fingers and toes hurt as the winter frost nipped them with its icy teeth. I feared I would soon be frozen in place, like a statue carved from ice.

The fear in my heart exploded as I penetrated deeper into the city and the giant inhabitants stomped past me, bundled in thick layers of winter gear. Not too many of them were out and about, on account of the weather, but every towering colossus that came near me jolted my heart with terror. Their footsteps shook the earth, and their immense shoes splattered me with chilly droplets. While none of them detected the insignificant creature at their feet, I still feared being crushed into a red stain. I sank further into misery with every leaden step.

I had journeyed far, but I spied on the horizon a coffee shop that I believed would save me. If I could slip through the door, I’d be warm. I could find crumbs to eat on the floor. It’d be risky, but I might yet survive. I forced my legs, which were growing numb, to progress in a straight line. My hands and feet were blocks of ice by now, and my whole body was screaming in pain, but I kept moving. Just a little farther.

I was almost to the door, perhaps a few hundred feet away, when I found I could no longer move. No matter how much I internally screamed at my body to proceed, I was overwhelmed with agonizing cold. I collapsed with a shudder, curling up into a quivering ball. My consciousness was fading, but I strained to stay awake. If I passed out here, I’d never wake up again.

A shadow encompassed my vision. At first, I believed I was beholding the specter of death itself, until the looming figure crouched down over me, dwarfing me with its impossible size. A giant. A terrifying, bloodthirsty, man-eating giant. I was doomed. I couldn’t even scream or run with how frozen I was. I could only shiver as I saw in my peripheral vision a massive hand hover over me, until the tips of a gloved finger and thumb closed around me. I had been captured.

I felt a rush of vertigo as the giant stood up, and I ascended at a whirling speed to incomprehensible heights. I was blind, muffled by thick wooly fabric from his gloves. He released his hold on me and I plopped onto something plushy and warm that gently rippled beneath me like a boat in a lake. Heavenly heat radiated from below. I instinctively snaked my hand down, craving the warmth, but was met with a searing heat that made me jerk my arm back with a sharp yelp. My fingers stung with sharp pins and needles. Whatever the heat source was, it scalded me in my current half-frozen state.

The tepid warmth that did reach me wasn’t enough to thaw out my insides, but it helped to bring me back to full awareness. I opened my eyes and sat up, trembling, only to see I was sitting on a big, soft, white mass, surrounded by other identical fluffy cylindrical shapes, bobbing in a hot brown sea of sweet-smelling liquid. The realization hit me like a truck. I was sitting on a giant marshmallow, in a thick pile of other marshmallows, that were floating in a great big mug of hot chocolate.

I nearly fell backwards off my marshmallow perch into the boiling lake when the giant’s enormous face, like a mountainside, loomed over the lip of the mug and stretched high above me and outward in all directions. I had never seen a giant’s countenance up close, since their heads were usually so far up in the sky, so the sight was quite a shock. His skin was pale from the wintry bluster, but his nose and cheeks were flushed red. He was clean-shaven and looked to be in his 20s.

“Hey there, little one,” his voice boomed, like the voice of a god, making me flinch. “You look cold. Want me to help you warm up?” He spoke through a pair of vast, plushy, pink lips easily the length of six men. The steam of his breath felt divine on my icy skin. I was so miserably cold, to the point where I feared I may never experience a comfortable temperature again. I was sorely tempted. Without concern for the consequences, I nodded. I would do anything to be warm again, to not freeze to death.

His lips curved into a devious smirk. He tilted the mug as he touched the edge to his mouth and took a small sip. I couldn’t help but squeak in fear as the heap of marshmallows rushed towards the edge, carrying me with them.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” the giant teased. Raw terror pierced my heart as his mouth opened slightly, showing off massive white teeth that beckoned into an unfathomable darkness beyond. Even so, I was so, so fatigued from the unbearable cold that even now burrowed through my worn clothes, tearing at me with icicles for teeth. I couldn’t take it anymore; I just wanted to give in. The heat from the beverage, from the giant’s body, was so close, so tantalizing, yet just out of my grasp. I nodded again, sealing my fate.

The giant raised a thick eyebrow, curling his mouth into an amused smirk again, but obliged. The immense lips parted, showing a glimpse of the forbidden depths, yet the warmth of his internals drew me in like a moth to a flame. The mug tipped forward, and before I could regret my decision I was swept inside in a deluge of marshmallows and chocolate.

The mouth closed, cutting off the chill from the wind. The space within, encircled by walls of teeth, was easily as big as a living room. The warmth kissed me in a loving embrace like stepping into a sauna. The marshmallows dissolved underneath me into a sticky puddle, and the liquid from the beverage flowed down the gullet yawning in front of me, yet the giant kept me in his mouth. I lounged back on the huge fleshy tongue, soaking in the heat like a jacuzzi. It felt so good to finally give in, to give up, to no longer have to struggle through miles of snow. I should’ve been terrifed, but I was desperate for heat.

The tongue curled around me, massaging me against the rows of teeth and the roof of the mouth as it explored my flavor. As wonderful as the physical sensations were, my body tingled with prickles of pain as the numbness from the cold wore off and blood circulated to my extremities. Even with the heat flooding over me, along with a bath of saliva, I was still frozen in my core. I shivered violently. I needed more; the mouth couldn’t provide me with enough. I was greedy for heat.

In that moment, I stopped caring about anything else. I had nothing left in my life anyways; everyone I knew was dead; I just wanted to be warm and comfortable in my last moments, above all else. I crawled alongside the row of craggy white molars, sidling up to the red meat of the gums, sensing the pulse of hot blood through the flesh. Deeper inside, it would be warmer. I crept over the curve of the slimy tongue as I descended toward the throat. I slid down into the squishy chute, and it gladly received me, flexing tightly around my tiny body as the giant swallowed.

The throat squeezed tightly around me in a tender hug as it dragged me down to the internal depths. The pressure was strong, yet pleasant, kneading me down through his immense chest. His heartbeat throbbed in my ears, and the expansion of his lungs compressed me further as I slid down. I fell deeper and deeper until I eventually splashed into his stomach.

The infernal heat felt divine, enveloping me to the point where I was smothered. At long last, I was warm, blessedly warm, in gurgling heaven. I curled up and allowed the shifting walls to churn me up in the boiling fluid. Like a marshmallow in a cup of hot cocoa, I melted into the larger whole, blissfully free from my tormented existence.

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ghoulishcraving · 2 months

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on the theme of queerbaiting and hannibal i have OPINIONS and idk how well ill be able to express them on writing and in english but here we go

i get why some call it queerbaiting, and, although, i myself consider it canon, HEAR ME OUT

I'm going first to put the example of a real life artist, yoongi, from bts, this guy has consistently answered to questions like "what's your ideal woman" by saying "a person like...." or even saying things like "the gender doesnt matter much to me, it's the personality.....", has lyrics on his songs like "either a girl or a guy I'll make you come with my tongue....", and even said on a radio show years ago that he liked "the macho type" in guys, but he is still not considered queer by the general audience, he is not queer, except to queer fans like myself, bc we see that and obviously that means the man is not straight but to the general public, to the straight public he never said explicitly that he is gay, bisexual, pansexual, queer, anything so he is "not gay".

because the thing about queer identities is that they will be denied as long as there is the slimmest chance to do it, as long as there is not a direct rotund answer.

that happens with hannibal, it doesnt matter how obvious is, because there isn't an explicit acceptance or declaration of queerness and there isn't an explicit kiss or sex scene or confession between will and hannibal.

and that is something that we do not realise as much because of the niche audience it has, but if this show blew up, and its audience reached a more general audience we would see the denial of hannigram everywhere.

because even on the "is hannibal in love with me?" we do not get a rotund yes, we get a metaphora, a rephrasal, a reinterpretation, that can be interpreted as platonic. as a platonic obsession.

because even when both actors wanted a kiss it didnt happen it stayed platonic

and what confirmed for me this idea was the treatment of margot and alana's relationship.

we have a show, about the fbi, about a serial killer about violence (traditionally directed to men) protagonized by two very attractive men (usually done to attract a women audience), that plays onto queer topics spectacularly and has a blatantly obvious queer story (for queer people) but it's not a romance, and they never explicitly portray both men as queer, the only (explicit) relationships they are shown having is with other women (therefore not risking the lose of interest or hate from a straight audience that wants to be/men the protagonist or desires them/women) but the moment they introduce a lesbian couple we dont even see how they get together, we barely see anything about them as a couple but we do have a sex scene, wich would be something liked by a straight men audience, ignored by a straight women audience, and liked by a queer audience (confirming the queerness of the show) but without risking the proclaim of the two protagonists.

I hope this makes sense, and I know what fuller says and that the man just need a bit of cheering to write and post hannigram porn on his social media but honestly for me, what a creator, producer or actor post on their socials do not count bc it's not on the show, and again it allows deniability, it isn't canon

most of this is basically how I see the show translates onto a publicity and commercial sense, I myself consider hannigram as completely canon but still I'll always say that not putting a kiss on screen had nothing to do with the purity of the bond, or the complexity of their relationship and more to do with its marketing and the possibility of losing audience over it.

although in the end the audience of this show is the queerest I've seen hajfjdbnrnf

#hannibal #hannigram #nbc hannibal #queerbaiting #hannibal lecter #will graham #not queerbaiting by definition but by lack of media literacy and homophobia of the general public

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bloodsalted · 22 days

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@qapsiel || oh this is coming. i told you. || no i'm not sorry.

[AGONY] - Dean rescues Cas from the hands of the enemy, and finds him in terrible shape. 😇

the room where cas was taken from him? it's one that he's avoided taking every damn precaution he can to turn a blind eye to the slimmest chance he might see those four walls ever again. all but one night. the next one. where he tricked himself into thinking that, maybe, if he showed up and called for him enough--the previous night would simply go away and like some fucking magic that doesn't exist in his world (because why would it? why would he get even that much of a god damn BREAK?)--cas would be standing there. coughed up by the ink and black and NOTHING that he willingly let take him shattering every piece of dean and what they had in the process. because why? because he loved him. as much as dean loved him back.

he can't get the feeling of cas's skin off his hands. he doesn't want to. the last touch. the last whisper of i love you, too against the angel's mouth as the worst nightmare he could think of happened in front of his eyes and he was powerless to stop it. even his hands that gripped cas's face, that desperately clawed for and missed his shoulders. felt like they betrayed him. THEY KEEP FEELING THAT WAY. even now. in all the time it's taken him to figure out HOW. in all the time's he's gotten down on his hands and knees and prayed or screamed until his voice was raw and torn and sam heard and came running to JACK that he give him some sorta sign. some sorta power to take that day back! that he'd give up the rest of his decades on earth (if you could count that high..who knows how much time he's got?? OR WHAT IT'S WORTH) for just another week. another month. another YEAR (just one) to have cas back. where he belongs. back WHERE HE BELONGS.

to all the people we've lost along the way.

only he couldn't accept that. he couldn't rest. he couldn't sleep. tried to have his own sorta funeral that was bullshit come a few hours later. he trashed his room. he threw insults, in his mind and outloud, at the boy he loved if he isn't going to fucking LISTEN then what good was ANYTHING FOR? until he thought his heart couldn't break anymore. and that's when it came to him. what to do. where to go. and that he'd bleed for it if he had to. so? that's where he is now. standing in that room. staring at the empty spot where cas was dragged off to with a blade in his hand that feels so heavy, he doesn't know if he can keep hold of it for long. dean drops to his knees. 'maybe not today... but someday.. TODAY IS SOMEDAY.' like some force outside of himself is in control. the blood that swells out of his cut palm puddles freely from the cut as the blade hits the floor. he paints in his own shades of reddish black brown markings that come to him without even a thought as to what they might mean. he doesn't know. but there's a warmth in his chest and a glow to his eyes that illuminates the floor in a shade that only reminds him of their son.

the same light begins to fill the room. and there's a warmth on his shoulder that pulls him up and pushes him forward towards it. it's so bright that he has to squint his eyes. so blue and white and that guiding hand simply pushes him FORWARD into it. and past that? BLACK. thick air so heavy he can barely move his limbs. he drips blood as he walks. a steady trail that bursts with color instead of rotting into brown in his wake. it follows him. step by step. even as the muddy dark battles against him. he smells of ozone and honey. beer and pie. and that scent reaches out like a coil around the angel trapped in the dark. it curls around his mind and soothes him as if it's a touch beckoning him to seek out the source. a voice in castiel's mind. not dean's.. but someone else he loves. 'you don't deserve to be here, castiel. go.' and that's when dean's steps can be heard. little puddles of light bead behind him still. brightening cas's NIGHT like the stars of the big dipper. "CAS?!" dean's hand clasps his shoulder. marking it as he was once marked. glowing brilliantly bright. all the warmth and love and LIGHT of family there to bring him HOME.

HE FOUND HIM.

#featuring: castiel (qapsiel)#qapsiel #huh..#what do ya know? did myself my own damn dirty.#ily.#lay your weary head to rest. (chapter i)

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howtokill8sporesandarabit · 2 years

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Tentacle smut , mentions of furries minors DNI. Shark boys, monster f*ck1ng, hardcore, uncensored, insane sex, long dick, noncon enjoyment, prisoner play, mentions of m & f parts on mc, orgy, 5mx1mc, not for general audiences. Slight homophobia, rushed.DNI MINORS

Skip the foreplay head 2 the smegsy .. bad writing but u can ignore it if u..

barely proof read btw .. u can also ignore it if u..

His tentacles dragged my figure around the wispy ocean, only my muffled screaming the only sound heard for miles. I knew i couldn’t leave. abandon even the thought of leaving the thought of getting away. was slowly fading from my mind.

I held my breath, and rather than in a desperation to leave, I was trying to flail my arms away from the tentacles, tightly suctioned on my cold skin to hold my palms over my mouth, I knew I could breath. It was human instinct.

“I’m so afraid, I can’t escape, will I see my family again? Will they believe me? Can I go free alive, will my limbs be intact. Could I even face this beast? Surely I’ll go free. I need to, but can I now?”

Useless thoughts flowed endlessly like a river in my mind. My limbs had gone numb from the tight gripping of the tentacles,

I winced in pain.

“I winced?” Words had came out of my mouth. Suddenly the word felt still. The tentacle beast spoke to me, in a

Raspy.. coarse voice, so deep it trilled like crazy. Which was hilarious.. How could a voice be so raspy, we were in the ocean, He’s so dehydrated. But I should wake to the real world, I can’t find something funny especially towards my kidnapper. Not in this situation.

“Why are you doing this? What’ve I done?” I whimpered as I shouted, trying my hardest to be pitiful for the slimmest chance it’ll let me go.

“Agh, You bastard… did you even listen to me speak.. You only asked more without regard..” The tentacles tightened, a scream came out of me. “I’m sorry, it’s a stressful… Ngh!” I felt something around my asshole. “I’m sorry! I’m so- Mphhhh!” a tentacle suddenly went into my throat, violating me. “Shut up! Shut up!” The tentacle beast had said, immaturely. He grunted a terrible amount, it was turning me off, slowly..

The tentacle came out my throat , leaving me more breathless than I already was. “Ugh.. just shut up.. Don’t talk till I say so.” I was afraid, isn’t this rape ? This was always hot when I masturbated to rape.. I guess it’s scary. When I get home I’ll stop. I should grow morals.

Quickly, we arrived to a pocket of air in a huge underwater cave. “Get on your knees.” He said as his tentacles got off my eyes. He was handsome.. wait.. what? This is Stockholm. Shut up you sick ass. I slapped myself “Why are you taking so long, get on your knees.” He said demandingly. Tentacles came from his back. Long black shiny hair streaked from his face, slit eyes, thick lips a perfect nose and great cheek bones. A massive dick too. I gulped hardly, getting on my knees, on the black sheets. “Suck it.” Huh? What? Suck it? This gay bastard… “Ngh!” A sensation I felt when a tentacle was shoved in my little throat happened again. His huge veiny hands had pushed down on my head. “Gah! Ngh!” I was out of breath. “You’re shit at this, the shrimps in the sea do better at this than you. Did I overestimate humans?” He slapped my ass, hard. “Mmm! Ahh! Ngh.. ha…” I moaned, I came, and enjoyed this. “Yes.. yess.. more!. ahh!” I mumbled. “What did you say? Louder.” “..I said I wanted more..” shamefully, my head went redder than it already was. “Is that so now? He slapped my ass more, tentacles entered my ass, and his long 20 inches has entered me. “I’ll allow you to speak.” I gulped.. “Thank you…?” “It’s master.” “Thank you master!” I said nuzzling my head onto the sheets. Whoring like the bitch I was. “You’re such a cute lil bitch.” He slapped my ass, gripped my back and dragged me onto his lap. He held my waist, and swung me up and down, my belly inflated like Avalon! This crazy. I couldn’t move. His tentacles were holding me from movement, with my arms now in the air I felt embarrassed from my tits showing to him, as I rode his long.. inhumane penis. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes!” My eyes reached so high, my tongue out and drooling. His dick reached my G spot, it felt like he had entered my belly. “Your man pussy, damn tight!” He started choking me, “Ahm… ugh… shit! You got tighter… you’re so slutty!” And as he cream pied my man pussy he let go, his tentacles freed, and I stretched my man pussy with my fingers. “Cream-pie me more master!” “I can‘t. I don’t like needy bitches bunny. I’ll call my friends to gang fuck you instead bunny.” “G..gang fuck? Alright master..!” I said, although I was afraid it was what I wanted.. “Wait 10 minutes bunny. They’re quite speedy.” Gulp..

Suddenly, a group of men who resembled sharks with their muscular and dominating presence barged in. A man with dark brown hair asked “This your bitch? He’s small.” And chuckled. He was At least 9ft tall.. 5’7 was totally normal for a.. oh it’s not.. still! I wasn’t small..

He suddenly gripped my by the chin and made me face him, since I was distraught by my thoughts “Wipe your ass bunny, they’re gonna fuck you hard.” “Yes master!” Enthusiasm bloomed from my voice, I took a cloth and wiped my ass in a small crevice of the cave. My head had gone numb! I new it’s stupid to accept but gangbang!

A red haired man, who looked outgoing also exclaimed. “He looks so tight, to make the so stubborn Kiel cum, insane. Or have you gone sensitive! You can be my bitch instead Kiel!” Then was suddenly air punched, he seemed talkative. And the annoying type too.. I found out it’s Kiel. Kiel is masters name !

And a man with mid length hair and white hair with blue ends said, “Looks great, look at his slapped ass.. subby.” He was a great contrast to that red haired over sharer.

a man of few words. Then 2 more spoke, a cheeky prideful blonde aswell as a sly looking man with green-ish hair.

“Is that really a man? Looks damn feminine…” Which was… offending. “This boy? Is he into bondage? The most important question.” …. I don’t want to fuck this green man. He doesn’t seem good.

“ Bunny, are you done?” “Yes master!” I gulped, as the men took their pants off, shirts off and showed their big not-stiff shlongs. Is that really not hard? It’s massive. Bigger than my feet… and it’s a size 13! “Crawl here bunny, and spread your legs.” I heard murmuring, “Those clean bare legs..” “Nice tits!” “Kinky.” “How adorable.” “Looks edible!” It was surely shameful…

2 men came up to me, and put restraints on my legs. The red haired man whispered, “I’m Samuel, nice to know you.” A cold seductive tone, which was a starling contrast to his fiery tone of speech. And simultaneously long slender fingers traced my stomach, “Ngh..” a light moan came out of my mouth. “I’m Ivette, sweetheart.” Ivette pinched my nipples as he licked my milkers with his big, monster-slender tongue which made me moan.

the green haired man whispered aswell. Chills ran down my spine, I gulped hardly. I heard a box rip, and out came sex toys, vibes and an injection.. probably an aphrodisiac.. They seem experienced. A lot of these items come from land. We’re deep underwater.. which makes this more fearful, could these beasts also be hiding in land. “Ngh!” I was lost in thought, 3 vibrators were placed in my ass, 2 on my dick and 5 on each man breast.. Aggh! Mph! I felt a sharp pain in my dick, and hole! They were syringing lube and aphrodisiac in my rectum and urethra ! No way no way! I felt sensitive to the point the breeze had me jizz!

“When did my masters do- mph!” The white and blue haired man was called Park-yeonwo. A Korean? To think we’re the same- “Ahhh! Oh! Ngh!” 2 massive schlongs fucked me, railed me, 2 people on each breast sucking, my masters tentacles suctioned around me, my masters dick shot in my mouth! Its like my gag reflex is gone! My head is insane! All their cum is delicious! This overstimulation was too much! “Fuck fuck fuck!” Their eyes squinted and their eyebrows furrowed! It was so hot, steam filled the room, their fuckin massive schlongs defiled me! My moans defiled the oceans! My cum sprayed like a fucking fountain! I shot shot and shot! My belly inflated with the massive dicks in me! My head fogged with the sound of sucking, my sweet virgin ass was fucking slapped abused and raped! “I’m being impregnated !!!impregnated !!!impregnated!!!!” FUCK!!! I came on that sly man’s face, I was avoiding it… shit shit shit! He turned all the vibes up to max, laughed and slapped my ass, thee rest followed and slapped too!!! Ngh! Ngh! Ngh! Ahhh! Ahh! Aghh! I heard moans everywhere, from all 5 of them! All 5! I’m afraid but ♡don’t want to leave! Please make me cum more daddies! The three of them thrusted inside me while screams of love filled the whole room ! ♡ They came into my womb and.. mph! Next thing I knew I passed out with my eyes rolled up, with cum spewing on both ends.. shameful.. “Ah he passed out.” “Seriously? It wasn’t that intense anyways, boring.” “Humans are so weak..” “No, we’re just the strongest of our tribes.. dunce.” “Whatever, chain him up. Let’s bring him to land.” Chains bolted on my legs, I was shoved in a suitcase. “Mph! Mmpph!” I woke up on a bed, in a huge room bigger than my home. It had tinted glass windows all over, yet had the things of a sex dungeon. I should wake up though, not the time to admire my surroundings.. after all. My slutty ass got myself into this by masturbating in the ocean..

“You bastards! Let me go you rapists!” I exclaimed but The smirks on their face showed that they wouldn’t.. I was treated like a sex sleeve! … “Let me rest you…” They showed a disappointed look on their face, yet murmured together and eventually let me off for a few minutes, they handed me water to drink after my throat was dry from all the deep throating and Moaning.. During my “break” I remembered how I acted while they fucked my bones out. Mind breaking.. How did I succumb so fast!? How embarrassing! It’s a bit.. overwhelming how they’re staring at me from above the bed, and shoving water down my throat.. sigh. This has got to be a nightmare, if I fall asleep I’ll wake up.

I dozed off, slowly, and had such a good rest. “Ngh.. Ngh… Ahh!” I heard a moan escape from my lips, “Already awake? Bunny!” He said as he made me ride his dick while holding me up and down. “It’s not bunny.. it’s lee.” I said sternly, but was only treated by a cheeky smile, and him mouthing bunny. “Wa-wait! Wait! Hold up.. Ngh!” His big beefy cup of sperm ejected from his dick that was inside me! My ass sluttily gripped onto his dick tighter, and went down balls deep! As if that massive meaty shlong was bad enough! His balls were huge! “Haa! That’s refreshing! Let’s go again!” “No. I’m tired.” I gulped anticipating him to allow me to rest. Like come on! Couldn’t he have woken me up? This sex driven shark boy! The only thing he has is a handsome face a chiseled body.. a huge penis.. and godly sex power.. As thoughts flooded my head, he answered, with a grin forming on his face, he whispered. “No way? I didn’t ask you?” His menacing figure suddenly became even more fearful. His aura was oppressing, instead of a cheerful and energetic muscle head. “S-sorry..” “Good doggy!”

I think it’s obvious what happened afterwards. “Ugh.. it’s not closing.. I feel it dripping out..” I obviously was agitated and afraid, I’m being raped. Why would I like this? I may have sinned, but why would I be thrown in this situation. I’m sorry God, is this another trial I must past before I get happy? I prayed despite being religious as all alone, I desperately had to pray to someone who i dislike. I’m an ordinary person after all.. I can’t go through this alone. “Excuse me.. I asked anxiously, Please bring me to the room I was in a while a..ago..” “Huh? Sure. Though I still got some left in me..”

#tentacle smut #tentacle kink #tentacle nsft #monster #monster boy #creature design #lgbtq

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novankenn · 9 months

Text

Reluctant Hero?

= Twenty-Six = (Chapter List)

The trio stood in front of the headmaster, goo and gore dripping off them to splatter on his polished wooden floor. Nora and Cardin stood just behind Jaune, their weapons balance on their shoulders.

Ozpin: Could you have, not, made such a mess?

Jaune: Not really, it's just how it is when dealing with these things. Messy.

Nora: Seriously messy.

Ozpin: (Sighs) Can I know what you accomplished with this... mission?

Jaune: Put down four Deadites that could have infiltrated the school and gotten their hands on the book.

Cardin: I thought we were doing it to keep them from killing more people, and to figure out how many more there were out in the forest?

Nora: So did I. Jaune's holding out on us.

Jaune: (Over his shoulder) I told you guys everything.

Nora: Nah-uh.

Cardin: This like the first time we've heard anything about some book.

Jaune: Really? I thought I did?

Ozpin: Mr Arc, please. Thank you for stopping a threat we were not aware of... wait... did you say more of them in the forest? How many more?

Jaune: That's the thing. We were going to do a count by checking the headless bodies... to see if they were any of the five we... um... caused.

Ozpin: So what was the result from this investigation?

Jaune: Um... we were interrupted by someone who will remain...

Cardin: (Cough) Goodwitch (Cough)

Jaune: ... nameless.

Glynda: I caught them sitting surrounded by blood, getting high!

Jaune/Nora/Cardin: Relaxing!

Glynda: Getting HIGH!

Jaune: That's beside the point. We have to go down and check those other bodies, then we can figure out...

Ozpin: How many do you think there are?

Jaune: Six, maybe less.

Ozpin: I see. I was going to send out search parties made up of third and fourth year students to try and recover those initiates we were unable to locate yesterday...

Jaune: No, that would be a really, terrible idea.

Ozpin: And why do you say that?

Jaune: Aside from us three... no one else in this school has any idea what they'd be running into, much less how to deal with it.

Ozpin: You are probably correct with that assumption.

Jaune: Oh, on the way here, Professor Goodwitch said something about how we are "representing" Beacon and our behaviour was inappropriate. What is that about?

Ozpin: I made a decision to accept everyone...

Nora: That's barbaric! It's just like Jaune-Jaune said! We survived, so we get to attend?

Cardin: That's cold. Real cold.

Ozpin: Excuse me? What are you going on about? I accepted everyone, it was the only sensible thing to do.

Jaune: Right. Of course.

Ozpin: (Sighs) So we now have a problem. There are students still out in the Emerald Forest, and I have an obligation to do everything in beacon's power to find them. But you are telling me that sending out third and fourth year teams to conduct such searches is inadvisable.

Jaune: Yeah.

Ozpin: So, what do you suggest I do? If there is even the slimmest chance, they could still be saved, then I have to do something.

Jaune: And I suppose you think, that since we have dealt with these demonic cock-huffers that we should volunteer?

Ozpin: No.

Jaune: Good.

Ozpin: Your team is being assigned the task. In lieu of taking part in Combat Class, History or Grimm Studies, you three will scour the Emerald Forest and save or recover everyone you can.

Jaune/Nora/Cardin: Team?

#rwby #ash vs evil dead #horror themed #jaune arc #deadites #deadite grimm #cardin winchester #nora valkyrie #glynda goodwitch #headmaster ozpin

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

Adaptive Nature

Chapter 21

Summary:

And as all sparks burst into flame, so too must they die out.

(AO3 Link)

(Masterpost)

(12,175 words)

yep! you read that right! this chapter is 12k words. obviously, this took me a while, and as its the final chapter of adaptive nature, i would really appreciate reblogs :) this fic has been eight months in the making, so i just hope you enjoy the ending of it

The cold bites into his skin, sinking its teeth and remaining lodged as the icy chill continues to spread through him, nestling amongst his bones until the chill permeates through the entirety of his being. He shivers, forcing himself to take another step forward, another step upwards, along the icy path they've been trekking on for the past…however long. He’s not sure how long they've been walking, choosing instead to count the time by how much he can still feel. It’s easier than trying to squint for the sun amongst the dreary clouds and make a guess at the time from that.

He exhales, and it condenses around his face, swirling around his cheeks and over his frostbitten ears as they continue to trudge up the incline, steadily growing in angle. He inhales again, taking another step forward, forcing himself through the snow.

It shifts around his ankles, a quiet whisper of sound that quickly faded into background noise soon after his fingers began to tingle and turn numb. He’s tucked them inside his pockets now, even as it makes him more prone to stumble, preferring to get a faceful of snow and rock than lose a finger to the cold.

Scott forges ahead, leading their small group up the incline. He creates a furrow in the snow that he does his best to follow in, though the snow has already half-buried Scott’s footsteps by the time he reaches where the man just was. Every step seems to come slower after that, the minimal supplies he’s carrying weighing his shoulders down more and more, causing them to bow inwards with the force of the wind and the weight of his burden.

The mountainside is barren of anything, not even a shrub dares to poke its feeble branches above the covering of white, if there are even plants buried beneath the thick snow. He wouldn't be surprised if the frost had driven away all signs of life, buried and entrapped them within a tomb of ice and snow, impossible to escape from. Perhaps it is foolish of them to venture onto a mountain so openly hostile to their continued survival. Perhaps it is foolish of them to chase after the centre of this Corruption, as though they have even the slimmest chance of killing some ancient evil.

An ancient evil, one that he had not even been aware of until a few weeks ago - and god, it really had only been a few weeks, it had been nothing more than a handful of days, day spent panicking and lost and running towards any potential answers there might be, with no consideration for his own health - would hardly be felled by a few overconfident mortals; ones that have arrived with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few meagre supplies that would do nothing to save them if it truly came down to it.

Some of the snow shifts, sliding down the slope beside them, sending a new cascade of ice over their feet, burying their legs up to their knees. He can feel it on his hooves (which, still an incredibly weird concept to consider, let alone actually address), the icy chill already long settled into his feet (can he still call them feet? Hooves are a type of foot, right?) to the point where he can hardly feel them anymore. Only the sight of his legs, still attached to his body, reassured him that he hadn't lost them several feet down the mountain.

None of them speak, too wary of the wind stealing their breath and words away, or perhaps freezing their tongues to the roof of their mouths if it is feeling particularly vengeful. Based on his most recent luck, and the lifetime of misfortune that seems to follow him wherever he goes, he decides against striking up a conversation. Both because it would be rather difficult to carry one on while the wind howls in their ears, and also because it would be just his luck to have his teeth frozen together while attempting to speak.

Simply the thought is unpleasant enough to cause him to shudder, wrapping his arms a little tighter around himself and wishing he lived somewhere colder than the mesa, if only so he could have warmer clothes to withstand the icy bite in the air. As it is, the wind nips at him through his clothes, the fabric flying around miserably, utterly useless in the face of true cold rather than the faint chill that accompanies the setting of the sun.

The sound of shifting snow grows louder for a moment, more rapid, and he spares a glance ahead to make sure there isn't an incoming avalanche, or something similarly unlucky, and that Scott hasn't face-planted into a nearby snowdrift. Neither of these have happened, and so he looks behind himself instead, watching as Tango puts in a small burst of energy, pushing forward to walk beside him rather than a few feet behind.

Tango rummages around in his pockets, his coat far more suited to this weather than the jacket he’s currently wearing; he feels a short burst of jealousy at that, pulling his jacket a little tighter around himself as though that’s going to help him at all. It doesn't, obviously, his hands beginning to ache from the cold and the tight grip he has on his jacket.

Tango withdraws his hand after a moment, fingers curled around something in his palm, which he holds out towards him. Tango nudges at one of his clenched hands with his closed fist, and he releases the grip on his jacket to accept whatever Tango is handing him. Tango presses it into his palm with a smile, closing his own fingers around the item before withdrawing his hand again and stuffing it back into his pocket.

He uncurls his fingers, just enough to see what Tango has handed to him, peering at it and squinting against the flurry of snow currently battering against his face, threatening to freeze his eyelashes together. It’s a small snack, wrapped neatly in a square of foil. The foil is oddly warm against his hand, no doubt from being in Tango’s pockets, and so he holds it for a few moments, taking the minimal warmth and savouring it for as long as it lasts, even if the chill will return soon after this one moment of reprieve from the all-encompassing cold is bliss, before unwrapping the food and taking a bite.

He sniffs, nose beginning to run from the cold as he chews, giving Tango a smile of thanks. Tango smiles back at him, eyes squinting, creasing at the corners as he remains beside him. His eyes glow, standing out brightly against the surrounding sheet of white that surrounds them all. The red glow of them is comforting, in a land of barren whiteness, like a beacon that he cannot help but drift towards.

Their shoulders bump, and he stumbles, tripping over nothing but air and soft snow, foot sliding forward where he expected it to meet resistance. Tango grabs his arm, the warmth of his hand soaking through his jacket immediately, hauling him back upright. The hand remains on his shoulder for a few moments longer, propping him up and allowing him to regain his balance, before releasing him.

He smiles at Tango again, glad that his face is red from the cold already, covering up the immediate flush of embarrassment that follows his stumble. It brings with it a short burst of warmth, something that quickly fades as they continue on their miserable way, continuing to trail after Scott.

The man seems to have a set path in mind, zig-zagging in certain spots, dancing around a large expanse of white that would have been far easier to traverse than the complex, almost confusing, route they take instead. He doesn't question it, not having the energy to come up with the right words to demand an explanation, nor does he have the energy to call ahead and attempt to get Scott’s attention. For something with such large ears, he really does have shitty hearing. Or maybe he just chooses to ignore him. The latter seems far more likely, he realises with a frown.

He follows in Scott’s footsteps anyway, as much as he wishes to complain to the man- and he will, once they reach somewhere warmer than this and less windy, so it doesn't take as much energy to ask him a simple question. But for now, the easier route is to simply follow him without question, hoping that his centuries’ old knowledge is enough to make sure he doesn't lead them over a cliff edge.

He breaks another chunk off the small bar of food Tango had given him, it’s some kind of grain bar with various seeds that are attempting to get stuck between his teeth. Still, it’s one of the best things he’s tasted recently, mostly due to the fact that he hasn't eaten much since their escape from Tumble Town. (Even phrasing it as an escape makes him feel guilty; there would have been no need for an escape if he wasn't there, if he hadn't chosen to build a settlement in the middle of the mesa- it would never have existed, and there would never have been a central place for the Corruption to target.) Tango had warned him against accepting anything from Scott, warning him against accepting most things from any of the citizens of Chromia, giving him a brief lesson on the rules of hospitality and the fae, as well as warning him on how easy it would be for an ancient fae like Scott to trap someone. As such, he had been suspicious of everything that Scott set out in front of them, just as suspicious as Tango had been, and the small snacks Tango carried with him were only small, hardly a nutritious meal.

He watches as Scott takes a sudden left turn, rotating on a sharp angle, spinning on his heel, and making a beeline towards a nearby rock formation. He doesn't realise that he’s slowed to a crawl, almost a complete stop, until Tango tugs at his sleeve, pulling him along as they move forward, ploughing through the snow, to reach Scott.

“We can break here for a moment,” Scott says, teeth gritting together as he speaks. His eyes dart about, too, as though looking, waiting for something to appear out of the snow. Nothing does emerge, and all three of them are left glancing around the section of mountain they're currently on, each searching for something that probably isn't there. Scott inhales sharply after a moment, breaking each of them from their thoughts, and gestures for them to huddle behind the rocky outcrop.

It keeps the wind off of them, at least, even if the snow continues to gather around his legs, chilling him down to the very bone. He shivers, curling in on himself a little further. He leans against his staff, taking some of the weight off his feet as he rests. Still, the feeling of snow brushing against his hooves is a weird sensation, weirder than the feeling of sand or grass beneath them. It gives way far too easily for him to walk comfortably on, leaving him stumbling and tripping over feet that are still unwilling to cooperate with him for long periods of time.

Tango huddles beside him, tail slinking around his leg, curling tightly and pulling them a little closer. Scott rolls his eyes as he sees this, crouching in the snow and dragging his hands through them, looking completely unaffected by the cold so far. He seems to have little care for the knee-high drifts of snow, uncaring for the snow that quickly begins soaking his clothes and no doubt making them colder than they already were before.

Tango pulls him closer as he thinks, and he almost resists it before he feels the warmth spilling off of the other. Only then does he allow himself to be pulled into Tango’s side, pressing his hands into the space between them in an attempt to warm them; his fingers feel as though they could snap off at any moment, frozen and made brittle with the cold.

“Do you have to be like…that?” Scott gestures at them, as though they are everything that is wrong with the world.

“Like what?”

“Like…all cosying up together because of a little chill.” Scott wrinkles his nose, looking pointedly between Tango and him. He feels his face heat a little, blames it on the sudden influx of warmth, the area around him heating a few degrees, some of the snow beginning to melt.

“The Sheriff might not be human, but that doesn't mean he has an immunity to cold,” Tango says, frowning. “You and I might be fine in this kind of weather, but not everyone is.”

Thinking about it like that, it…actually makes a little more sense that both of them are apparently unaffected by the cold like he is. Tango is practically a walking hot-water bottle at this point, exuding heat that is this close to sending him to sleep. He doesn't know what Scott’s thing is, exactly, but seeing as this was probably his home for a few centuries, then he’s probably just immune to it at this point. Weirdo.

“Sure, whatever.” Scott stands, brushing a few snowflakes from his shoulders as he does so, glancing around them again, still checking their surroundings. The tension in his shoulders hasn't faded, even with their small rest, if anything, Scott’s shoulders seem to be more tense, a straight line as he looks around with a firm set to his jaw. “Let’s get moving.”

He doesn't wait for a response before he’s stepping around the rocky outcrop again, disappearing into the snow’s embrace before either of them can even so much as voice a protest. Tango sighs, looking after where Scott had disappeared, head dropping for a moment, before he’s looking up again, pushing himself to his feet.

Tango extends a hand to him, and he takes it, the cold, almost clammy feeling of Tango’s hands almost making him recoil; it’s nothing like the usual warmth of his hands, the fire burning just beneath the surface of his skin seems to have disappeared. Tango must feel his shock at the sudden cold because he laughs, pulling him to his feet. “Sorry,” he apologises, breath condensing around his face as he speaks. “My hands get a little bit colder when I'm in conditions like this; hardly any warmth for me to gather my own from.”

“It’s…fine,” his teeth are already chattering, hair flying about his face as the wind begins to tug at it again. “Just took me a little by surprise.”

Tango laughs again, though there is nothing particularly funny about what he just said. Their hands fall apart naturally as Tango moves to continue following. He almost reaches out for Tango, then, almost catches at his hand again and considers yanking him back, closer. He can feel words forming on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill over, be pushed forth into existence.

And then Tango looks back at him, one eyebrow quirked as he waits for him to catch up. And the words retreat back, back into the very corners of his mind that never see the light of day- his best attempt at burying them in the hopes that they don't spill over. Tango’s face is concerned, obviously waiting for him to give some explanation for his reluctance to move.

He doesn't give one, simply smiling, and stepping forward to catch up with Tango.

He uses the staff as a third support, leaning against it when his legs begin to tire further, joints aching in the cold as they continue to press forward, unrelenting in their pace, even as the incline of the mountain changes to dangerous angles. Some of the paths they trudge along can hardly be called paths, not with the sheer face of rock Scott forces them up, leaving him out of breath and wheezing by the time he makes it to the very top, forcing his way over the edge and rolling into a bank of snow.

Scott stands just ahead of him. Still, rather than pressing on ahead, moving with an urgency that doesn't at all speak of the reluctance he had first had when leading them to the mountains. It doesn't speak of his reluctance to begin guiding them up its slopes, nor his reluctance to even share the information of the mountain in the first place. Instead, Scott simply stands, frozen in place, as though the frost of the mountain has finally caught up and locked all of his joints in place.

But he can still see the man breathing, quick and shallow inhales as he continues to stare ahead. He follows where Scott is looking, in the hopes of finding the Heart they had come here seeking. What he does find is instead rather disappointing. It is simply another empty mountaintop, nothing in sight, save for a few worn away rock formations, slanting towards each other, scattered around randomly.

“Uh,” his voice gets stolen away by the wind almost immediately, so he speaks louder. “Scott, buddy?” Scott’s head tilts towards him slightly, though he doesn't break the staring competition he’s having with the open air. “You good?”

“Yes.” Scott’s shoulders stiffen, and he pushes himself to his feet, clambering out of the snowbank he had managed to roll himself into. He can feel snow trickling down the back of his neck, melting into a cold sludge that sends a chill down his spine. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“You're…just kinda staring.” He steps forward to stand beside Scott, squinting to see if he can find what Scott is looking at. “At empty air.” He clarifies, as though Scott can't see that it’s empty air.

“I- yes.” Scott blinks, looking over at him. He looks faintly panicked. “Sorry, I guess I was just…expecting there to be more here.”

“Oh.” He looks back over the flat mountaintop, around at the rock formations- the scattered ones that are halfway to being worn down and eroded completely. Though…he can still see faint lines over the rock, far too even to be natural, and. “Oh.”

Scott laughs, though it is a grating sound. One that sounds incredibly painful to make, and Scott cuts off the not-a-laugh a few moments later, coughing to clear his throat. “Yeah.” He says, voice rasping a little, the wind threatening to steal it away from their ears completely with how quiet it is. “Welcome to Rivendell, I suppose.” He gestures around them, “It’s hardly recognisable at this point, so I'm not surprised that it hasn't been discovered yet.”

He feels almost dizzy with the realisation of it. He stands still, certain that if he even tries to move he might topple over with how light headed he suddenly feels. He stands, staring at an empty space, a blank canvas- something that has been painted over with snow and rock and ice, left barren. And yet this is somewhere that once had something, it is not a clean slate; something had simply come around and wiped the whole place, clean off the map until the only memory of it exists with the person he stands beside.

“Huh.” He says. It doesn't feel like enough. Doesn't feel like enough to simply stand there, a monosyllabic word all he’s able to summon to encompass his feelings on the wreckage he stands amongst. He stands here, uncertain of whether he is stood in the centre of what was once a road, or if he stands where someone’s home once stood. “Huh.” He says again, because saying it only once doesn't feel like enough.

“Where’s Brimstone gone?” Scott asks, turning his head to the side. He continues on with his day, as though he hasn't just been made to feel sick to his stomach at the complete and utter absence of anything ever existing here. The only evidence is a few brick pillars that have withstood the test of time, yet look like nothing more than natural rock formations- easily passed over and ignored as part of the landscape.

This could happen still. Every one of the settlements currently existing on the continent could simply cease to exist, and it will be left to historians- people like Pixl and Tango, and everyone else they work with, to puzzle out their history. To try and discover the kind of people they were. Or they could be entirely lost to time, a mere mention in a history book, because there is nothing else about them to be known.

Scott is still looking at him, face neutral. It takes him a moment to realise he is waiting for a response, glancing around himself and looking for where Tango has disappeared to. “I…don’t know?”

There are very few places for Tango to disappear to, unless he’s decided to bury himself beneath some of the snow surrounding them. But that seems like something even Tango wouldn't want to do, meaning the only remaining hiding spots are behind the various crumbling…ruins of the empire they're stood in.

Scott hums, looking around as well. “Well, we might as well look for him, no?” Scott grins, smile sharp again. Any of his previous worries are gone from his face, wiped clean and allowing the mask to settle back into place. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find what we’re looking for while we search.”

Scott doesn't wait for him to agree, striding off in the direction of the nearest crumbling chunk of brick, walking a circle around it. He follows in his actions, checking the next few outcrops alone, turning up with nothing each time. The only relief of this search is that the snow gradually gets shallower the closer he moves to the centre of the mountaintop, until it barely covers his feet.

It feels less like he’s pushing against an impossibly heavy weight to force each step, and more like there’s a little resistance before the snow gives way around his feet and allows him to take another step.

Still, Tango doesn't make an appearance, and Scott has begun casting worried glances at him from across the clearing. It’s obvious that he’s found no traces of their third group member, even as they continue around the clearing, investigating each crumbling wall and every cracked chunk of brick laying buried in the snow.

The silence around them grows, his heart beating faster and faster the longer they fail to find Tango. The silence stretches on, only the wind whistling through the brick, weaving amongst it and hurtling down the narrow gaps that still exist, breaks the silence. He can hear his breathing, short and ragged, inhaling sharply each time he turns a corner, promising himself that he’s prepared for the worst - whatever that might be - but knowing that he truly isn't, not if he actually stops to think about it. So he doesn't let himself stop, feet kicking up snow as he hurries quicker and quicker, heart beating a bruise into his ribs, so painful that he’s sure he’ll be able to feel the ache for days afterwards.

So, when something latches onto his back, the sudden weight sending him tumbling to the ground, rolling over the snow, he can't be blamed for the way he shrieks.

Nor can he be blamed for the way he scrambles, slipping from beneath his attacker and flipping them over, bracing an arm over their throat as they struggle. Tango stares up at him with wide eyes, wriggling in the grip, tail thrashing over the snow, stirring it up as he attempts to escape.

“Sheriff!” Scott skids around a corner, grasping at the brick to rebalance himself. “Are you okay?” His face drops, expression souring as he sees who it is that he’s pining to the ground. “Oh, you found him then?”

“He found me, more like.” Tango taps at his arm, and he leans back, forgetting that he had been pressing down on Tango’s throat the whole time. “Sorry.” He apologises.

“It’s fine,” Tango waves him off, still struggling to regain his breath as he sits on the ground. His tail still idly flicks behind him, the tuft of the fur at the end clumped with snow gathering among the strands. “Possibly not my best idea to jump you when we’re in such a creepy place.”

“Possibly?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “Don't make me laugh, Brimstone. That idea was almost worse than the plan you're currently running on.”

“Hey.” Tango scowls. “It’s a better plan than anything you came up with!”

“The plan’s fine,” he attempts to soothe the situation, glaring at Scott before he can even think about inflaming it further. “It’s something we can work with, modify as we need it, you know?”

“That’s just a fancier way of saying that you're making it up as you go. But-” Scott raises his hands before he can be interrupted, possibly by Tango making a lunge for him, “what I'm more concerned with is where you disappeared to, we were looking for you, you know?”

“Oh, uh,” Tango looks faintly embarrassed, looking away from both of them. “Sorry, I found something interesting, and when I went back to where I left you, you had both disappeared.”

“So you decided to jump the Sheriff.” Scott says. “Makes perfect sense.”

“Hey! I found something,” Tango pushes himself to his feet, tugging him to his feet a moment later, brushing some of the snow from his shoulders. “Which is more than you did.”

“We could have been looking too, if you weren't practising your disappearing act.” Scott retorted. “We’re just wasting time.”

“Alright,” he holds up a hand, finding that the situation inflamed anyway despite his (minimal) efforts to prevent that. “Just show us what you found, okay? Then we can decide what to do from there.”

Scott mutters something under his breath, too quiet for him to pick up. But he follows anyway as Tango begins to lead them back the way they had come from, following over a set of footprints, distinctly Tango’s. He hadn't left any that indicated where he had disappeared to in the first place, hence the searching, but these footsteps are incredibly clear, pressed deeply into the snow, allowing them to follow them to their source.

“Ta-da!” Tango gestures at a hole in the ground, surrounded by a few walls that are mostly intact. The most damage to them is slight weathering and the lichen growing along the cracks in the brick. Other than that, it looks mostly stable still. “Mysterious staircase!”

He places a foot on the first step, only for Scott to shoot a hand out and grab him by the back of his coat, scruffing him like a cat and pulling him away from the staircase. “Hey!” Tango wriggles until Scott releases him, turning on him, looking like a particularly furious cat, eyes slitted and ears pressed back. “What the hell? What was that for?”

“This staircase shouldn't exist.” Scott says.

“Well,” Tango glances back at the staircase. “It definitely does.”

“Yes,” Scott hisses out a breath, pacing around the edge of the staircase. “But it shouldn't.” The staircase spirals downwards, disappearing into shadows after a few steps, meaning they can't see what lies beyond the first few.

“Aw, c’mon, you're telling me you think you can recognise the entirety of this place from memory? You might’ve been pretty important, but that doesn't mean you knew everything.”

“Actually,” Scott says. “I did. That was literally my job- knowing everything.”

“Still impossible.” Tango follows him on the circuit Scott does around the top of the staircase, “No-one can know everything, it’s literally impossible for our minds to comprehend that much knowledge.”

“For your mind, maybe.” Scott mutters, completing his circuit of the staircase and squatting down beside it, peering down the staircase, as though squinting hard enough will make the shadows disappear.

“Fine, whatever, maybe it wasn't here when you lived here. So what? That means it’s obviously something to do with the Corruption, therefore…” Tango lets his words trail off meaningfully, leaning over Scott, almost leaning on him as they both peer down the staircase together.

“Could be a trap.” Scott says.

“Could be!” Tango says, far too cheery about the possibility of it being a trap. “Only one way to find out!” And he hops onto the staircase, skittering down a few more when Scott makes a grab for him, fingers missing the ruff of his coat by a hair’s width.

Scott makes a growling sound in the back of his throat, grabbing at the ledge above the stairs before he topples over and follows Tango into the darkness.

“Well,” he peers over Scott’s shoulder, watches as a light bursts into existence just within the shadowed parts of the stairs, illuminating the bottom half of Tango’s face. “We might as well follow him.”

Scott makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, but it’s not incredibly negative. He takes the win, starting down the steps and towards where Tango is waiting for him. Scott delays only a moment later, muttering and grumbling as he follows after him, stones skittering as they're knocked loose from where they're resting on the steps, bouncing down several before coming to a halt, only to be kicked once more as Scott insists on dragging his boots along the ground.

Tango’s eyes glow almost eerily in the darkness, grinning at the two of them, a flame cupped in the palm of his hands as he waits. It flickers between the soft orange of a normal flame and the white-hot blue of a roaring flame. He can hear it, too, the popping of the flames as they soak up the air around them, fuel to the flame.

“See?” Tango tips his head to the side. “Not a trap.”

“Not yet at least.” Scott says, always the positive-thinker among them.

“We’ll find out pretty quickly if it’s a trap.” Tango says, turning to continue down the staircase.

It continues in the tight spiral downwards, and he runs his hand along the wall, aware that he’s getting a little more dizzy with each turn of the staircase they complete, leaning some of his weight against the wall and some of his weight against his staff. It clinks on the stone each time he sets it down, echoing down the staircase, before bouncing back towards him, filling his ears with nothing but the soft clink-clink-clink of the base of his staff and the faint sounds of their breathing in the air around them.

The brick beneath his hands is worn soft by time, cracks spiderwebbing over the surface, catching on the callouses of his fingers as he runs a hand over them. It’s an uneven surface, one that hardly changes even as they go down and down, around and around, descending further into the depths of the mountain. He’s not sure how deep they've gone- he’d given up on counting the number of steps once he passed a hundred, mind stumbling over the numbers as he attempted to keep up with each step.

Scott mutters, occasionally, behind him. And without fail, each time he mutters something beneath his breath, meant for no one’s ears beside his own, he never fails to jump, almost overbalancing and sending him tumbling into Tango’s back. If Scott notices that his occasional, almost inaudible mutterings are startling him so badly, he doesn't stop.

Their only light comes from Tango, the flame in his palm maintaining its deep blue colour, brighter than the orange flame was. It leaves very little shrouded in shadows, leaving even less to the imagination as they progress, deeper and deeper.

“This shouldn't be here.” Scott says behind him, making a cut-off noise a moment later. He glances at him from the corner of his eye as he turns on the spiral, watching him pull his hand away from the wall, disgust flickering over his features as he looks back at the wall, hastily wiping his hand against his shirt, with the desperation of someone that just touched a spiderweb.

He doesn't think much of it, simply assuming that Scott did touch a cobweb, until he feels something beneath his hand too. It’s warm, slimy, and he pulls his hand back with a shout, causing all three of them to come to a stop. He stops first, forcing Scott to stop, and Tango glances back at the loud noise.

He shakes his hands, attempting to flick the slimy feeling from his fingers, dropping his staff in the process, ignoring the way it clatters down the steps, sliding just around the corner before Tango manages to catch it. He ignores it, instead staring at the walls around them; walls that are no longer made of cracked and worn brick alone, instead, they are covered in a mess of vines, dipping in and out of the cracks in the brick, worming their way through the stone and pulsing beneath the light.

“Oh my god.” He almost gags at the sight, watching as the vines seem to squirm and twist, pulsing as though they have a heartbeat, as though there is something running through those veins of Corruption that are currently surrounding them. “Oh my god.”

“Not a trap.” Scott scoffs, though there’s a slight shake to his voice that betrays his nervousness.

He laughs a little, wiping his hand on his jacket, on his jeans, desperately trying to get rid of the warm, slimy feeling that seems to permeate his entire being. It’s enough to make his skin crawl, feeling as though there are ants burrowing beneath it, tiny legs skittering just beneath his skin and above his flesh-

“It’s been like this for a while,” Tango says, with all the casualness of someone that had noticed this a while ago. “I thought you had seen it too, just…didn’t bother to say anything about it.”

“No.” He says. He stops wiping his hands off, the feeling of warmth mostly gone from them. “You're the one with the light.” He shudders, still able to feel that sickening, crawling sensation over his skin, over the back of his neck. He rolls his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the feeling.

“If it was a trap, it’d have gotten us already, probably.” Tango says, and he holds out his staff to him a moment later. He takes it, leaning a little further away from the wall infested with Corruption. “There’s no point in going back now, I think I can,” Tango pulls a face, “hear some kind of beating…heart.” Simply the thought of that is enough to send another wave of nausea through him, bile rising in his throat at the thought of being able to hear some other heartbeat.

“I wish you’d told us when you noticed it.” Scott says, and when he looks behind himself at the other, Scott’s eyes are sharp in the darkness, glimmering with the light of Tango’s flame. “Don't just assume we've seen everything.”

“Alright,” Tango turns back around. “I’ll tell you if I see anything else, promise.” He doesn't even snarl at Scott, not even a little bit, for telling him what to do. Scott remains silent as they continue walking, not even breaking the silence with his occasional mutterings of annoyance about what he’s been dragged into.

It’s eerie enough already, simply adding another layer to the unnaturalness of the place they're currently descending towards. It hasn't escaped his notice, either, that the air has slowly been growing warmer. Truthfully, he hadn't actually noticed this until his breath stopped appearing in front of him every time he exhaled, and only then did he take a moment to stop and realise that he was no longer as cold as before.

The warmth, which had almost been pleasant before, just makes him feel a little sick now. He’d assumed the warmth had been due to their depth within the earth, not…whatever it is that’s waiting for them at the bottom of this seemingly endless staircase.

He bumps into Tango’s back as he thinks, almost sending both of them off the step they're now precariously sharing. Tango nudges him back up onto the one he had just been stood on, letting him lean over his shoulder as he stares at what’s ahead.

He can hear Tango’s breathing this close, can hear the way it picks up slightly as he raises the flame in his palm a little higher, casting its glow a little further. The sight ahead of them make his breathing pick up too, that sick feeling returning with a vengeance. He has to swallow back a gag, wary of making even a single noise and alerting the…thing slumped over on the ground ahead of them.

“Why are we-” he cuts Scott off with a desperate hand, flapping at him until he gets the hint and shuts up. Scott is at a disadvantage here, just far enough behind to be around the slight bend in the staircase, meaning he can't see the next thing ahead of them. Can't see the way its head twitches towards them at the sound Scott makes.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he breathes, “I'm gonna be sick. I'm actually gonna be sick.” He feels bile rise up his throat again, even as he continues to swallow. “Oh my god.”

“I…don't think it can move?” Tango says, holding the flame a little higher, watching as the thing’s eyes - that’s not a person, not anymore, oh god - follow the light source, but it makes no move to stand from where it’s slumped against the wall.

“That doesn't mean we can figure out how to get around it.” He hisses back. “It’s blocking the path.”

“What are you two talking about,” Scott grumbles, and then there’s a weight on his shoulder, Scott using him as a prompt to lean and look around the corner at the thing slumped on the ground. It continues watching them, eerie blue-green eyes unblinking as it stares them down. He feels Scott recoil, the man’s hand leaving his shoulder. A short gagging sound follows after that, though Scott leans on his shoulder again a moment later, peering back at the thing.

“I think Brimstone’s right,” Scott says. “It doesn't look like it can move.”

“Yeah,” he hisses back, “and what if we end up like that too. We’re no fucking help then!”

“Calm yourself.” Scott pats him on the head, squashing his hair down. “If it wanted us like…that, we’d already be like that. It’s a hivemind, and that thing is staring right at us. It knows we’re here; it’s waiting for us.”

He swallows at that thought, voiced aloud for them all to consider.

“I'm going,” Tango decides after a moment, not looking back as he steps forward, away from him and Scott, inching his way towards the thing. It doesn't move, simply watching him pass by, head turning to constantly keep him in its line of sight, watching as he inches around it, back pressed to the inner wall of the staircase. But it doesn't do anything beyond watching them, not even its fingers twitch, barely visible beneath the swathes of Corruption vines wrapped around its limbs.

Scott nudges him in the small of his back, encouraging him to step forward. He tightens his grip on his staff as he edges around it, prepared to stab at it with the staff if it makes a single wrong move. He stumbles, breathless, to the other side of it, gasping in a lungful of air as he reminds himself to breathe, remembering how to do so as Scott skirts around the thing, careful not to go anywhere near the Corruption.

Scott pulls a face as he backs away from it, continuing to face it until he’s safely out of reaching range. “Oh, ew,” he mutters, “that’s going to be in my dreams tonight.”

Tango hums in response, already continuing on his merry way down the stairs, hardly a noise to let them know that he’s already moving onwards.

The next…thing they find is less shocking than the first. It is no less sickening, especially not when the thing’s head snaps up to look at them, neck creaking as it moves, staring at them with those green-blue eyes that look as though they see into your very soul. Its mouth moves, lips forming words, but no sound passes by them, leaving them all staring at it as it attempts to form words.

He’s a bit quicker to inch around that one, though no less wary, staff held out in a clear threat, encouraging it to lean back and allow them to step over it, move around it on the already narrow staircase.

The vines of Corruption get thicker the further they descend, beginning to sprawl over the stairs as they descend further and further. The air is thick in his lungs, heavy in his mouth with each inhale. It sticks to his tongue, cloying in his mouth, disgustingly sweet. The air is warm, and it smells of rot and decay, of a warmth that means nothing but death.

The bodies they come across are not corpses, though they do not seem alive either. The Corruption runs through their veins, visible just beneath their skin, almost glowing in the dark, shimmering beneath the light of Tango’s flame.

The air is heavy in his lungs, barely worth each breath he takes in, barely enough for him to keep going, keep skirting around the not-quite-corpses as they descend further and further; his head only grows heavier, more distorted, the further they descend into that oppressive heat. He feels dizzy with it, head lighter and yet heavier than it should be, eyes squinting against the darkness, and then against the light as Tango brings the flame closer again.

It’s almost a relief when the staircase comes to an apparent end, stumbling off of the steps, feeling the popping of his knees as he steps onto flat ground. His footsteps echo around the cave they've emerged in.

The echoing is hardly audible beneath the beating that fills his ears, taking up every one of his senses as he gazes upon the…mass at the centre of the cavern they've found themselves in. He can feel the thrumming of it in his own chest, lungs feeling as though they're going to collapse in on themselves with each subsequent pulse of the Corruption.

He cannot see the walls of the room for the Corruption, the disgusting black-blue spreading over the stone, marring its surface with its infection, crawling over every inch of the cavern until it belongs entirely to the Corruption.

“Oh,” a new voice, several voices, all layered over one another, loud enough to make his eardrums vibrate, loud enough to make him cringe away from the sudden influx of sound and sense after the silence being his only comfort for so long. “I was wondering when you were finally going to show up.” The vibrating cadence only continues, picking and falling, voices joining and fading as It speaks.

The…heart at the centre of the room continues to pulse, veins pulsating in a poor imitation of a heartbeat. As though the Corruption is something more than an infection, something more than something whose sole purpose was to infect and kill.

“Aw,” the voice rings out again, from somewhere within the room, somewhere that he cannot find the source of. How is he meant to find the source of the voice when it seems to come from everywhere? How can he find the source when it seems to come from within his own mind? “And here I was, thinking you’d be glad to see me.”

“We can't even see you!” Scott spits out. “How are we meant to be happy to see you when you're nothing but a voice in our ears?”

“You want to see me?” The voice- the Corruption asks. “And here I was, thinking you’d be able to recognise me by voice alone.”

“How can we recognise you by sound when you steal the voices of everyone you infect?” He asks. Scott watches him as he speaks, breathing a little faster, eyes glancing around the cavern, looking for their mysterious speaker. Tango remains still, hands clenched in front of him, glancing away from him into an opposite corner.

The sound of footsteps causes him to swivel his head back around, watching as someone slinks out from behind the Corruption’s Heart, drifting slowly into view. They tilt their head to the side, just enough to be within the light that Tango’s flame is currently casting. It catches on the frame of someone’s glasses, glinting off the crack running through the centre of one lens.

He stiffens, grip tightening around his staff until he’s sure his knuckles are white. He can feel his nails digging into his palms as he resists the urge to scream, to shout at whichever higher being found this funny.

“Oh,” the thing wearing Pixl’s face frowns, though a grin continues to tug at the corners of Its lips. “And here I was, thinking you’d be happy to see a familiar face.”

Scott snarls something, not bothering to resist the first idea that pops into his head, launching himself forward before he can even think to make a grab for him. He watches the thing wearing Pixl’s face sigh, raising Its arm and making a small gesture. The Corruption springs to life around them, roiling beneath his feet as it shoots for Scott, bundling him up and locking him into place, even as the man writhes in its trap, kicking his legs at the nearest vine, wriggling in an attempt to free himself.

“Aw, look at you,” ‘Pixl’ coos, stepping forward, closer to Scott. “So protective, hm?”

“Don't pretend you're him.” Scott snarls, still struggling, still attempting to free himself from his restraints. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to do other than stare, eyes wide, as ‘Pixl’ steps over a vine of Corruption, carefully avoiding it as he walks forward. Each step is purposeful, drawing closer to Scott, like a predator stalking its prey.

Scott doesn't flinch away when ‘Pixl’ reaches him, even as Its face breaks out into a grin, wide than any normal grin should be, stretching at the corners of his mouth and pulling his lips back until he can see the pink of his gums.

“But I am him,” not-Pixl says. “I am him, and he is me. Wouldn't you like to join me? Join us?” It brushes a hand along Scott’s jaw, and Scott stops writhing then, going deathly still within a moment, staring at not-Pixl as though It just slapped him. “Hm. Shame you cannot, I suppose, Pixl would so love for you to join him, I'm certain.”

Scott snarls again, wordless this time, nothing more than a warning sound that goes unheeded as not-Pixl brushes a stray hair back from his face.

It brushes a thumb beneath Scott’s eye, pulling at his cheek, pulling his eyelid down to expose more of his eye. It taps a considering finger against his eye, tilting Its head first one way then the other.

He feels as though he cannot breathe, the smell of rot and decay and heat overwhelming everything else. His mind urges him to fight, to lunge forward and drive his staff into the very centre of the Corruption- end this confrontation before it can start. His heart urges him to run, to flee, to take flight back up those stairs and out into the icy air, to never spare a single glance backwards as he returns. (Returns where?)

Instead, he remains rooted to the spot, tied to the ground despite the lack of Corruption ensnaring him. His mind rushes, thoughts moving so fast that they're incomprehensible, only a babble of half-formed words and phrases that he can't even catch before they rush on again.

His heart thunders in his ears.

“Shame indeed,” It murmurs, releasing Scott’s face, though It does not take a step back. “You would have been invaluable, but I suppose I cannot claim something that has already been taken by another curse.”

“I- what?” Scott sounds so genuinely confused, limp and leaning forward in his prison as best as he can, towards ‘Pixl’, as though this not-Pixl holds all the answers he seeks.

“Hm,” not-Pixl hums, “or perhaps not. Your cowardice is certainly a little off-putting- your tendency to run from every situation that might startle or scare you is awfully inconvenient. Perhaps you would not do well with us- no, certainly not. One moment of freedom and you would try to bolt, and it does grow so exhausting to try and maintain control at all times.”

“I am not a coward.” Scott spits, wriggling a little in his restraints, as though intent on freeing himself and showing It how much of a coward he isn't.

“Then how do you explain your continued survival?” It asks. “Everyone you ever knew is dead, long dead at that. And yet you still continue to drift, not quite dead but not quite alive, am I right?” It smiles at Scott’s silence. “That’s right. Your name, Scott. Certainly one I recognise, how could I not?”

Tango hasn't moved from where he stands. He cannot either. He feels as though his legs have grown roots and fixed him in place. His lips seem to have sealed themselves shut, too, unable to make a sound above a whisper as he stares at the side of Scott’s face.

“A name given on the last breath of a dying ruler,” It says. “How quaint. Though you are certainly not what I expected; when I found that you were carrying the name of someone I met before, I expected you to carry with you a great legacy, to live up to the name you have been gifted. And yet, all I see in front of me is someone that never stopped running from his past, never stopped considering the ‘what ifs’ of every day that he lived.”

Scott blinks at his words, blinks faster than he normally would.

“And yet, with that great legacy to live up to, you have done nothing worthwhile with your time. Perhaps you will be a footnote in a history book, some additional note that provides nothing more than a little interest to a historical account. Ornamental at best,” It says, “Hyacinth.”

Scott recoils like he’s been struck, jerking backwards away from the not-Pixl as It continues to grin at him. Like a cat that got the canary. Or perhaps, a shark that has smelt blood in the water.

The expression on his friend’s face is so far from anything the man would ever make, something that makes his blood boil, teeth gritting so hard they crack against each other. The roots binding him to the ground fall away, dissipating into nothing as he takes one step forward, then another, and another, and another.

His staff clatters on the ground, the sound making not-Pixl turn to face him. It doesn't have time to react, even as it watches him pull his fist back, far enough to land a solid punch right across Its face.

It screams, falling back, clutching at its face. Its scream is echoed by the Heart, by those further up the staircase as the pain radiates through each of the people connected to the Corruption, held on its strings.

Tango makes a small sound behind him, barely anything. Barely audible.

It is still enough to send a bucket of cold water down his spine.

He turns, watches as Tango wheezes out a breath, clutching at his face. Holding his nose as he blinks back tears that are not his own. He watches, unable to do anything, as Tango breathes through the pain of someone else.

“Oh,” It is laughing now, Tango wheezing out a laugh between breaths as he straightens up. “Oh, you should not have done that.” Tango staggers to his feet, tail swaying behind him as he straightens up fully, one hand pressed to his face, stemming the blood that has begun to drip from his nose. His eyes glint beneath the light, reflecting blue-green as he stares at him, flame flickering back and forth, sputtering in a non-existent breeze as Tango slowly, slowly, pulls his hand away from his face.

The blood drips over his lip. Over his chin.

Not-Pixl watches him, tilting Its head to the side. It does not say anything, simply watching him. Watching as he takes a step back, almost tripping over the Corruption at his heel. Scott cannot move, trapped within the swathes of Corruption, slowly tightening- constricting, trapping him further within its coils.

Tango watches him, not moving, content to grin at him with that too-wide smile and wrong eyes. He doesn't move, simply watching as he scrambles across the room, thinking of nothing but putting distance between himself and everyone else in the room.

His breathing is too fast- too quick- too much. He can't breathe. He can't. He can't breathe in enough, he can't inhale. Can feel it get stuck in his throat as his eyes dart around. There’s nothing for him, nothing to help in this fight. There's nothing for him to do. There’s no one to stand besides, no one to lean against. It’s just him. It is just him, and he is alone, and he doesn't know what to do- he doesn't have a plan, doesn't have anything but a promise from an ancient deity. An ancient deity that isn't even here. Something that had only told him vague instructions, nothing else. There’s nothing else here, nothing to help him. No one. He is alone. Completely and utterly alone.

He’s not ready. He’s not able to do this. He can't. He can't save his friends. Can't do this. He can't. There’s nothing he can do. Nothing he can do to stop the inevitable. This was a failed venture before it even begun. He doomed everyone the moment he stepped foot onto this continent. Doomed everyone the moment Pixl found him in that ruin- failed everything the moment he had watched the first person die.

There’s nothing he can do. He can't do anything. He can't- he can't.

Nobody has ever been saved by him. Everything he touches becomes tainted, destined for death- doomed until something comes knocking on their door to whisk them away. And then it’s his fault again. His fault, and someone else is dead because of it, someone else is gone because of him-

“Aren't you just funny,” Tango says, and he snaps to look at him, finding him far closer than he’s comfortable with. He inhales, fails, trying again, tries to inhale properly. Tries to put on a better front than the one he’s currently presenting. Not-Tango laughs at him, tilting Its head to the side, eyes crinkling at the corners, just like Tango’s eyes do- but this isn't Tango. It can't be Tango. Tango doesn't look at him so cruelly, nor with such open amusement.

“Shut up.” He gasps out, sliding along the wall until he can slip away, staggering back to the centre of the room, away from being backed into a corner by something that wears his friend’s face. “Shut up.”

“I'm sure you wish I would,” It follows him, steps slow, relaxed. It knows it will reach its goal whether it runs or walks. There’s nothing he can do now. “But I cannot, you need to hear of why you're failing- of why everyone here is going to die, to wither away, and why it is going to be your fault.”

“Shut up!” He scrambles, reaching for his staff. He clutches it to his chest like a shield, knuckles white as he grips onto it, skittering back several steps as not-Tango takes another forward. “I don't care, I'm not listening to you!”

“But you are,” It purrs, “and you're going to continue to listen to me, aren't you, Jimmy.”

His throat locks into place. All he can do is stare at not-Tango. Watch as It advances. He hears Scott (Hyacinth? Is that his name? Is he still Scott? He doesn't know anything anymore. Doesn't know what to think.) make a noise like a wounded animal, but when he looks not-Pixl hasn't done anything to him. He’s still hanging there, suspended by the Corruption-vines, unable to move. Still, he looks pained, eyes wide, trained on him. He looks like he’s going to cry.

“Oh dear,” not-Tango makes a tutting sound. “Did you not tell them?” It places a hand over its mouth, continuing to grin beneath that hand. “Shame. I thought you might have condemned them already, given them your name in the hopes that it wasn't cursed. Shame, you could have watched them wither away before now if only they knew what to call you; and wouldn't that be better?” Its head cocks to the side, ears pricking forward as It watches him. It takes a step forward. He finds he cannot move. “Sure, you could have been here alone, alone until your inevitable end. But at least their ends would be better than this. Or is that your goal, oh, Jimmy!” It laughs, seemingly ecstatic. “Oh, how I wish that you had done this on purpose. That would make everything so much better, truly. If you had led them here with the knowledge of what ends they would meet, as though it would be my fault rather than yours. Surely you've realised by now? Don't you know? I am not the danger here,” It gets close enough to runs its hands over his face, claws brushing over his skin as It cups his jaw, tilts his head downwards so they can look into each other’s eyes. “The only danger here is you. The Canary follows wherever you step, and the Canary only knows how to do one thing, don't they? Can you tell me what they do, Jimmy?”

“I-” His voice fails him, throat clicking as he swallows. There is a lump in his throat, blocking it. He can't breathe. “They herald death.”

“Very good,” It says, patting him on the cheek. He recoils from the contact.

“I'm not listening to you.” He says- tries. He is listening anyway, they both know it. He averts his eyes anyway, as though looking away would impair his ability to hear.

“Tango loved you, you know.”

“...what?” He can't help it. He looks back. Looks at something that looks so much like Tango, so much like the person he’s found himself staring at more and more as the days passed; watching as they attempted to sleep, found comfort in his presence. Not-Tango grins back at him, his too-wide smile and eyes destroying any similarity the two might have held.

“It’s what most of his thoughts are about. And, oh, he fought me so hard. He tried so hard not to succumb to my control, but,” It shrugs, “everyone falls in the end, no matter how hard they fight. And I suppose his affection for you wasn't enough to resist my call, hm?”

“You're lying.”

“I am many things, Jimmy, but one of those I am not is a liar. What could I gain from lying to you? There is little reason for a lie when I can simply dig through Tango’s thoughts. Tell me, do you want to hear what he admired about you the most? Or perhaps you want to know how long he spent counting your freckles while you slept and he found himself unable, do you want to know how long he spent doing that?”

“No.” He breathes. “Please, stop it.”

“Aw,” It trails a hand up his neck, just below his jaw, cupping it almost tenderly, almost softly. The claws draw pinpricks of blood from his skin as It grips onto his face a little tighter.

He can almost convince himself this is Tango. Can almost believe that it is Tango holding his face so gently, both of them close enough to feel each other’s breath on their cheeks. He can smell the smoke that so often accompanies Tango, so familiar that it almost makes him ache. And then he blinks, and the blue-green eyes of not-Tango are watching him, shimmering with a mirth so malicious that he’s not sure how he could have ever thought this was something remotely close to his Tango in the first place.

He tightens his grip on his staff, wood creaking beneath his grip as he stares down at Tango, allowing himself to be pulled a little closer, claws scratching along his skin. He stares at not-Tango, watches It, as it grins, smile stretching and pulling at its skin.

He knees it in the stomach a moment later, slipping free of Its grasp and sweeping the staff below Its feet, watching as It trips in an attempt to snatch at him. He dances backwards, out of the way, over the Corruption vines that thrash around his ankles, attempting to clamber over the skin, to drag him back.

He inhales. He raises the staff. He exhales, plunging the staff down.

He watches, shoulders shaking as he continues to drive the wood in, watching as it sinks through the layers of not-quite-flesh of the Heart, watches as the whole thing seems to convulse, shaking and trembling as he drives it deeper and deeper. Drives it in, ignores the barely muffled sounds of pain from behind him. Ignores it all, ignores everything outside of the burn of muscles as he continues to drive a stake through the Heart of this.

The staff reaches something solid - rock - and he allows himself a moment to breathe, whole body shaking, adrenaline pumping through his veins, hands trembling as he continues to grip the staff tight enough to cut off the blood to his fingers. He pauses, counts to five, grits his teeth, and twists it.

The Corruption shrieks. It uses every voice available to It, calling out to him in desperation and pain. He ignores it, leaning against the staff, ignores the quiet sounds of pain, slowly fading from the shrieks of before. Ignores it all, focuses only on his breathing, on the in, out, in, out.

He breathes, and for the first time in a while it feels as though he truly can.

A hand grasps his shoulder, pulling him back. He allows them to, releasing his grip on his staff. He sways on his feet, struggling to stand straight for a few moments, blinking to clear his vision of black spots.

“Jimmy?” Scott’s face appears right in front of his, eyes wide and searching. “Hey, hey, c’mon, it’s okay.” Arms encircle him completely, pulling him towards Scott. His breathing still feels too fast, a little too desperate still.

He chokes out a small laugh, he can't help it.

“You did great.” Scott says, patting him on the back. “I'm proud of you, okay? You've done so well, you just need to help everyone for a bit longer. Can you do that, or do you need another moment?”

“I'm,” he hesitates, “I'm fine. I can do this.” Scott looks doubtful. “I swear. I just…needed a moment.”

“I'm not surprised by that,” Scott says, “but if you need another moment, I won't be judging you for it.”

“No.” His voice doesn't shake as he talks, even though his hands still tremble with the remnant anxiety. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. “I really wanna get out of here, actually.”

“Yeah,” Scott looks around with a laugh, “me too, honestly.”

“Tango,” he gasps, spinning to look, almost overbalancing as the dizziness catches up with him. It doesn't matter much, as he’s crashing to the ground anyway, knees aching from the impact as he gathers Tango close, tilting his head to the side, pressing a few fingers to the pulse point. He breathes in, holding his breath as he waits. It takes a moment for him to register the thrumming pulse beneath his hands, and he sags forward in relief, like a puppet with all of its strings being cut. “Oh, Tango.” He breathes, not sure what else to say.

“He’s just asleep.” Scott says, and he turns to look at him. He’s holding Pixl already, in a bridal carry that he’s definitely gonna be embarrassed over later. “You're probably going to need to carry him though.” Scott winces, readjusting how he’s holding Pixl.

“That’s fine.” He hooks an arm beneath Tango’s knees, the other circling around his shoulders. He wobbles a little as he stands, adjusting to the weight before beginning to move. “I'm just kinda glad that I'm not carrying a corpse out of here,” he laughs, ignoring the strained note in it, “as messed up as that sounds.”

“It’s not messed up.” Scott says. “You just went through a very stressful situation, your response is…relatively normal, really.”

The silence that follows after that is nothing like the silence on the trip downwards. It’s enough for him to turn over several of the thoughts in his head, chewing over the words he wants to say before he speaks them aloud.

“I think he would be proud of you.” He settles on, watching as Scott jerks in the darkness, turning to look at him with a confused look. “Your namesake.” He clarifies.

“Truly?”

“Yeah. Ignore what the Corruption said. It’s stupid. I think he would just have been proud to know that you simply continued living, that you were continued evidence of his success. But I think he would have been more proud to know that you succeeded where he could not. As harsh as that might sound.”

“I did not succeed,” Scott responds. “I merely watched you succeed.”

“You helped. You helped and that is all you needed to do. Without you we would still be wandering the continent, hoping and praying that we could find the right place before the Corruption consumed everything and left us with nothing.” He pauses. “I think he would have been proud of you for being brave.”

Scott snorts. “I was hardly brave.”

“You returned to somewhere you heavily associate with the legacy you placed upon yourself to uphold. You returned there and helped, and you overcame that. Don't think I didn't notice how you hesitated at the threshold, and yet you continued. What is that other than bravery?”

“Stubbornness.” Scott says. “Pure stubbornness.” And then he laughs, hunching over slightly, cradling Pixl closer to his chest. Jimmy can see tears glimmering in the corners of his eyes. “You know, he always said that was my most memorable trait. Maybe that’s how I've carried on his legacy, something we have in common.”

“Was he stubborn?” He wants to know. Wants to hear about the person that had come before him, apparently in a long line of people that had fought back against the Corruption, as much as he feels inadequate to be the most recent addition to that line. He hopes he is the last, too.

Scott wipes the corners of his eyes as best he can while carrying someone. “Very much so. It was his one redeeming trait. That stubbornness carried him through where someone else would have faltered.”

“And it has carried you through too.” The sun is bright as they emerge. It has hardly shifted from the position it was in the last time he saw it. Time has barely passed, and yet he feels as though he has experienced years beneath the ruins of an ancient city. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

Scott sniffs, and his eyes shine brighter as the tunnel opens up into daylight. He laughs, and it sounds lighter than the one before. “I guess it did.” He says something then, something that Jimmy doesn't understand. It is not something he is meant to understand. It is said in a tongue that Scott is the last speaker of, and he doesn't even begrudge them their moment in the snow as he whispers whatever he wishes into the air of a place that was once home.

They stand, Scott growing silent as the wind carries the last of his promise away with it. They don't speak on their trek down the mountain, too occupied with the people they carry. But something about Scott seems lighter, as though an unseen burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Despite the events they are leaving behind, the wreckage of dead corruption buried beneath the mountain, Jimmy feels lighter too.

--- --- ---

All things considered, and there were several things to be considered, cleaning up after…everything took far less time than he thought it would. The buildings were a little wrecked, but some of the timber had survived since they first collected it, almost enough to completely repair the houses that suffered damages. Any extra timber was easily obtained from Sanctuary, the Guardian sending over far more than they really need, a small thank you note attached to it.

He’s not entirely sure how word got around about him, but he’s not about to question it. He has far too many things to think about instead of considering who might have spilled something about his involvement in the whole incident.

He sits on his porch, leaning back against the wall behind him, tilting his hat back so he can get a better look at the sky.

It’s slowly turning a light pink, orange streaks reaching for the clouds that still drift lazily above him. The sun is on its way to setting, a chill beginning to settle in the air around him. It isn't set yet, several hours from it still. Still, he leans back and tries to spot the first stars.

The wood behind him creaks, but he doesn't turn to look. He listens, instead, as the newcomer settles down beside him, leaning back against the wall with him. He tilts his head to the side, watching as Tango does the same, both of them sitting in a comfortable silence.

He looks the same as he always did. Hair brushed back from his face, moments away from falling over his eyes and blocking his view. The freckles dotting his cheeks remain, too, the same as always. He feels like he could draw them in his sleep, he’s spent so long memorising them.

They've spoken several times over the past few weeks. But not about anything consequential. They haven't spoken about the incident, choosing instead to skirt around the topic and remain in the comfortable little bubble they've cultivated with each other.

“Is it wrong to feel lighter?” He asks. The first to break the silence between them, the first to address the elephant in the room. It feels less like an elephant now, truthfully, more like a mouse that has been making a general nuisance of itself. Tango hums in question. “These past few weeks have been possibly the worst of my entire life. I don't think there’s anything that can compare to it, but I've left the entire thing feeling lighter than I ever have in my entire life.” He sighs. “Is that wrong?”

“No.” Tango bridges the small gap between them, leaning into his side. “You've grown, I guess. There are things that you've seen, things that you've done, that no one could imagine doing. Sometimes it makes everything else seem oddly inconsequential. Sometimes it gives you an answer you didn't realise you were looking for.”

“Oh.” He considers the answer Tango had given him. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Course it does,” Tango shoves him, “I'm the one saying it.”

“What if I wanted to do something new?” He asks. “Something different?”

“Then I'm all ears for your new idea.” Tango grins.

“Uh,” his words fail him for a moment, getting caught and becoming tangled in his throat as he tries to speak. “I don't know what to say.” He admits, a breathless laugh following soon after as he looks away.

“Whatever it is you're thinking about. C’mon, you don't think I'm going to judge you for it, do you?”

“No.” He exhales, and a weight lifts from his chest. He holds out his hand, ignoring the puzzled but amused look Tango gives it. “I am the Sheriff, and that’s what you know me as. But I am also Jimmy, and that’s what I want you to know me as. I…hope this introduction isn't too late.”

Tango forgoes his hand entirely, clinging instead to his face and pulling him into a kiss. He sinks into the hold readily, pressing into the warmth that Tango brings with him.

He finds that he doesn't fear the syllables of his name, the weight lifting from his chest as he allows himself to be drawn into Tango. Jimmy smiles against Tango’s lips, and it feels like a new beginning.

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sprout-fics · 2 years

Text

The Hunted

(A Haunted! Din Djarin x F! Reader Mini-Series)

Chapter Three: Caught

Read (Here) on AO3

Word Count: 6.1k

Rating: Mature

Tags: Din is Haunted, Dark! Din Djarin, Possessive Din, Protective Din, Possession (By the Darksaber), Being chased, Cat vs Mouse, Angst, Abduction scenarios

Warnings: Stalking, Toxic Relationship Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Violence, Abduction, Kidnapping

Summary:

You hear him then, hear the sound of his solid, sure footsteps echoing out against the silence of the warehouse. It takes everything in you to not whimper, for fear that even that tiny sound will alert him to your presence. If he finds you here, if you give him any indication of where you're hiding, it's all over. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to escape. You're like a mouse in the jaws of a bocatt, waiting helplessly for the killing bite.

When a shadow suddenly blocks the light from the doorway, you feel the world around you condense, shrink to just the sound of your heartbeat fluttering desperately against your chest. You dare not even breath, not even blink for fear Din will be there once you open your eyes again. The world feels silent except for the sound of you and your fear, and you pray to whichever gods are listening that this isn't it, that this isn't the end of all things.

(Special Note: Feel free to check out my Haunted Din playlist, made to accompany this fic!)

Tag List:

@adancedivasmom @writeforfandoms @arctrooper69 @devstinyy @bunnyteefs @zwiiicnziiix @leithatnight @againstacecilia @mina2000alex @dankest-farrik @stupendousladydinosaur @telltale-vixen @grogusmum @shadeblade16 @besk4r-recs

(Reply to or reblog this post to be added to future tag lists!)

By proceeding further you acknowledge you have read the listed warnings and tags

----

He's following you.

You managed to escape him, but only just so. The sour smell of blood and plasma from the alleyway still slithers down your throat, sticking to your senses like a permanent reminder of Din's madness. The lingering touch of his hand on your chin feels almost like a brand, as if Din retains his grip on you still, manages to hold you fast even as you run, flee, hide from his encroaching presence.

In your mad dash to freedom, you have somehow managed to leave behind your supplies and credits in the alleyway where you had been ambushed. With no credits there’s no passage off the station, and without your supplies you have no way to last more than a few days at best. It’s not like you had much choice, forced to flee the carnage that Din had wrought. Now you find yourself entirely out of resources, alone and out of options.

The only thing you can do is run.

Your feet hit the grated durasteel walkways of the outpost as you frantically shove through bodies around you in the market, not stopping to listen to their protests or disgruntled remarks. Your wide, terrified stare reflects the flickering lanterns of the street. Steam from vents billowing as your form passes through and causes it to hiss and dissipate. You don't notice any of it. The only thing you can see is the path before you, offering the slimmest chance of escape that you throw yourself at with all your strength.

Even then you know it's not a matter of hours but minutes before Din finds you. You don't turn around for fear that he's already there, that the pause of your feet will give him the opportunity to reach out and seize you. If you do- if he catches you, it means the end of it all, means both Din and you will forever be lost to the curse of the blade. The thought of it slinks and purrs at the back of your thoughts, the feeling of letting your lungs fill with dark smoke and soul be captured by something that neither of you truly understand.

You need more time to think of something, anything, produce a plan to somehow stop this madness before it devolves any further. You can make do without credits for a day, but with no way to get out of the waystation you know you're sitting in Din's net, simply waiting for him to tighten the snare around you before it’s all over.

You have to get off this station.

Which is why your first instinct is your best one- to bolt for the docks, feet flying over the walkway under you and breath barely contained in your chest. The crowds have begun to thin now that you're further away from the market, and with their absence every other sound around you is amplified, resonating within your bones as a call, a warning to run faster.

At the same time, you ignore the shiver inside of you at the thought of Din's hands stretching out from behind you, wrapping around your torso and dragging you backwards against his broad armored chest. They smother the scream that rips from your chest, Din’s cold helmet burying itself in the juncture of your neck and shoulder like he can smell you. There's something almost intoxicating about the thought of being caught, of letting Din grab you and finally end this chase once and for all. You can almost feel his phantom touch, his broad hands splaying across your stomach and chest as he holds you still against his form, growls a warning in your ear and waits for you to finally stop struggling, to surrender to him at last.

It's a dark desire, a dangerous one. You know that by indulging in it you're indulging in the temptations of the saber itself, letting yourself become consumed by its madness. Yet for some reason that want, that need inside you feels strangely familiar, as if you can't entirely attribute it to the artifact. Instead, it feels almost primal, the desire to be chased, caught, claimed by the warrior, surrendering yourself to both his instincts and your own maddened lust that you so desperately try to ignore.

Instead, you fling yourself down the stairs that lead to one of the lower levels, deeper into the station to where the warehouses are. It's a desperate, final act, the idea of trying to lose Din in the maze of cargo before ultimately stowing away on an outbound vessel to Force knows where. It all depends on your speed, your focus and your determination to dance further away from Din's darkened grasp.

All to save him, you remind yourself again. To save you both.

There's a noise behind you, a clatter of trash or debris in the alleyway you just cut through. The sound sends your heart all the way up to your throat, so much that it briefly chokes out any air in your lungs. You nearly freeze in fear, too scared to make so much as a sound. Yet you know that the moment you stop is the moment this chase ends for the last time.

So, you shimmy down the nearest ladder you can find, eyes grazing over the rooftop of the warehouse beneath you. You don't look up for fear if you do Din might be standing there already, backlit by the floodlights above the walkway, hands reaching down towards you.

You drop the last five feet or so onto the roof of the building, wincing at the sharp jarring sensation that rocks through your knees. It's quieter here, away from the crowds and towards the empty streets around the storage district. Your ragged exhales seem like the sound of engines igniting as you take a moment to pause, catch your breath. Legs shaking, chest heavy, you briefly double over and try to calm your rapidly racing thoughts. The instinct to flee is overwhelming, and it threatens to block out any other sense of logic within you as your brain resorts to the primal urge to run until you’re burned out like a dying star.

Yet then there's a sound far above you, and you freeze, slowly turning your gaze upwards. The hair on the back of neck stands up straight, and the breath that you had been desperate for now feels too cold, stale, deprived of oxygen.

He's there.

You see the outline of him, standing on the walkway you had just descended from. The silhouette of him is stiff, broad, taking up even more space than it had even in your memories. He's partially illuminated by the streetlights as they cast a hazy glow that hardly seems to touch him. His visor is bent towards you, several stories beneath him. Your blood chills at the sight of him, of the Mandalorian who is destined to catch you. Even at this distance Din reeks of danger, a hunger that belongs only to those that chase things that desperately struggle against them.

That same treacherous desire within you purrs, as if beckoning him to come and claim you.

Din is silent, still, watching, gauging your reaction to his presence. He doesn't move, not yet. Instead, he simply stands, observing you like a hunter keenly watching over prey about to stumble into a trap.

Stumble you do, tripping over your own feet in a desperate bid to get away from him, to put just a millimeter more distance between you and him.

You manage to reach the rooftop door of the warehouse before you hear his jetpack ignite.

You all but fling yourself down the stairs of the corridor before you, a cold sweat breaking out across your back as your entire form trembles uncontrollably.

He's going to catch you.

It's clear now. It was clear from the moment you fled from him all those moons ago, taking a single step away from him before bolting for freedom. Now you can feel the net slowly encircling you, its silent silvery threads wrapping around your limbs and immobilizing you bit by bit until it's too late to struggle, to escape.

You slam the button for the sliding door at the bottom of the stairwell, chanting a litany of prayers and curses while your eyes trace upwards to the top of the stairs- where you fear Din will appear at any moment.

The door is barely open before you're forcing your way through it, finding yourself at the periphery of an endless corridor of crates and cargo. There’s hundreds of shipping containers in here, forming an unconquerable labyrinth. The entire warehouse is devoid of any and all life, its workers having retired for the station’s sleep cycle. It's deadly silent in here, the only sound being the distant hum of the building's systems and your own terrified heartbeat beating like a war drum in your ears.

You sprint into the maze without thought, skidding around corners and feet sloppily tripping over each other as you try to find somewhere, anywhere to conceal yourself. Some of the shipping containers are open, empty inside, and still others are stacked on each other, towering high above your shrinking form. You have no destination in mind, and each time you think you've found a place to hide your senses tickle with awareness and you abandon it in search of something else, somewhere safer.

That is, until you hear him.

It's a small sound, a footstep perhaps. Yet it sounds to all the world like thunder, deafening in the otherwise silent warehouse. Instantly you're pressing your back up against the metal siding of a container, holding your breath and begging, pleading to the stars above that he hasn't already found you.

It's silent for a moment, and your ears are ringing, eyes wide as you gaze into the dim light of the warehouse. The dusty, broken lights far above aren't enough to fully illuminate the space, and it feels as if you're just two steps from total darkness, fumbling blindly into the shadows until he reaches you. Knowing Din, you wouldn’t put it past him to shut off the lights entirely and let his night-vision do the rest.

You can almost feel it, can imagine your shuddering, frightened breaths as you try to carefully pace through the pitch blackness, fingers tracing over the metal exteriors of the containers around you. The sensation of someone only steps behind you has you whimpering within that daydream, but every time you turn, swing out an arm in a vain attempt to strike him there's nothing but air. Until, at last, your wrist is seized, you're dragged forwards into a broad, metal chest as Din's helmet tucks into your hair.

"Cyare." Din purrs, and the nightmare fades into stark reality as you hear Din’s voice echo distantly somewhere behind you. You are too scared to even shudder at the sound of his voice, warped by the intonation of others long passed. He feels like a Dathomirian panther, stalking in the shadows as he prowls in search of his prey- in search of you.

You try not to breathe, but after a moment air shudders free from your chest, hands shaking as they grip the grooves of the containers pressed against your back. Slowly, carefully, you begin to move away from the voice, every step a struggle as you shake and tremble.

He's here, in this warehouse, and now you can hear his footsteps two or three rows off to your left somewhere as you slowly creeps closer in search of you.

You know he could turn on his infrared sights, know he could simply hover above the containers using his jetpack in order to find you. Yet he doesn't, and it seems as if Din is content to find you the old-fashioned way, tracking you through the maze by your scent alone. It’s the same game he’s been playing for ages now, giving you the slimmest advantage so you actually prove to be a challenge to him. You both know he could end this at any moment, but instead he’s stalking you through the shadows, giving you a chance- to escape or to surrender willingly, you aren’t sure.

"Come to me, Mesh'la." Din calls out, his voice almost gentle were it not for the poisoned sweetness of it, heavy and sour on your tongue.

You don't answer him. Even if you wanted to you can't, your voice nothing but a strangled sound as you whimper to yourself.

You carefully skirt around the corner of another container, eyes wide in the dim, dust laden light and heart pounding against the confines of your ribcage. Your feet are a whisper across the durasteel floor, your worn soles barely making a sound as you sneak away. Yet even that seems too loud, each shuddering breath and heavy heartbeat only serving to betray you to Din's sensitive ear.

Back pressed against the grooved metal exteriors of the shipping containers, you listen carefully to every sound, every movement in the warehouse. Dust hovers under the streaked overhead lights, and you pause to see if there's any indication of a disturbance in the air that might herald the presence of the Mandalorian who wields the Darksaber.

You feel it reaching for you, feel the cursed artifact whispering and calling out for you to return to Din's side, to your rightful place. If you listen closely, you can hear the voices of the blade click and hiss in Mando'a. The longer you listen the more the words seem to make sense, seem to convey their true meaning.

"I know you're there, Cyare."

Din's voice startles you so much you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to silence the choked gasp that bubbles up your throat. Frantically, you whip your head side to side, trying to pinpoint the source. You think it was somewhere behind you, far off in the row you thought Din was in, but you can't be sure. Your mind is racing a hundred miles an hour, trying to think, to plan, to overcome the overwhelming fear that seems to blot out all your other senses.

You continue sidling down the aisle, darting around the next corner and away from where you think Din must be. Yet his voice trails after you even as you do, sending shivers trailing up your spine.

"You're so close I can hear the sound of your heart." He purrs, and it takes all your strength to stay standing, to not let your legs wobble in fear at his words, predatory, hungry. It isn't him, you remind yourself. It isn't him, it's the blade, it's the curse of the artifact, it isn't him.

That doesn't make the fear any less potent, however. Especially when you hear something that sounds like a footstep around the corner you just ducked behind. You have to force yourself to not run, to bolt and let the sound of your heavy footfalls betray your location to the hunter.

Your thoughts seem to betray you as well, as they summon the sensation of Din's gloved hands seizing you, wrapping around you and caging you in his embrace. That same touch that had ghosted over your face earlier, had whispered to you a promise of safety, haunts you even now. You imagine his gloved hands wrapping around your wrist, digging into the flesh of your hip as he struggles to subdue you. It alights a treacherous spark simmering low in your stomach, and you try to tell yourself it's the blade, it's just a trick, that this isn't you.

It's almost like Din seems to read your thoughts, however, because his voice is suddenly echoing somewhere off to your right.

"Why are you running?"

You almost want to hiss at him, tell him all your reasons for sprinting away from his embrace, from the embrace of that thing. Doing so would mean he'd be on you in seconds, however, and that's not a risk you're about to take. So, you continue to creep further into the maze, ignoring the panic rising in your stomach at the realization that you are hopelessly lost within it.

It's almost as if you can feel his presence descending on you, can hear the sound of his slow, steady heartbeat growing louder in your ears. You can't tell where he is any more. He was behind you, then somewhere to your left, but now it feels like he's ahead of you, slowly choking off any would-be escape routes. Though you aren't sure of even that much, not as every shadow seems to have a glinting, visored stare, every touch of the metal containers around you feeling like the suede tips of his gloves.

"I'm not going to hurt you, cyar'ika." He promises, voice echoing up into the metal rafters. "-but it isn't safe out here. I can only protect you if you come out from where you're hiding."

You know that's true, know Din would never actually hurt you. He'd take you back against your will, do whatever in his power to subdue you, yes. The thought that he'd hurt you, kill you, however, is beyond the realm of possibility. He could have killed you a thousand times over by now, taken his chance in any number of slip-ups you've had in your daring escape. Yet he chose not to.

No, Din wants you alive, at his side, drowning in shadows alongside him. A fate almost worse than death itself.

"The galaxy is a dangerous place." Din warns, and you stop suddenly in your tracks, suddenly focusing on the sound of his voice in front of you, echoing around the corner you'd locked your eyes on. "Only I can keep you safe."

You immediately backpedal, not caring about the sudden scuff of your shoes against the floor. Cold sweat blankets your neck and chest as your eyes scan for something, anything to hide in, knowing Din is mere steps from finding you.

There's an open container just around the corner you just passed, and you creep towards it as fast as you can, trying to silence your footsteps as much as possible. Yet when you clamber inside you hear the brief groan of the rusted metal under your weight. You nearly cry at the noise, the sound feeling for all the world like a blaster shot in the dark. Still, you force yourself behind a stack of empty crates, leaning your back against the wall of the container and pulling your legs as close to you as possible. Like a frightened child hiding from a monster, you curl into yourself, try to make your body as small as possible to avoid his notice.

There's silence for what seems like hours, and you breath into your hands, trying to muffle the sound as much as possible. It's nearly pitch black inside your refuge, the only light spilling through the halfway ajar door that you dared not close for fear of the sound. Yet even with the light that falls inches away from your feet you feel the darkness inside the container pressing down on you from all sides, smothering you and drawing the air from your lungs.

The spirits of the Darksaber are whispering to you, and even though the blade hangs sheathed at Din's side you feel the void like darkness of it devouring the periphery of your sights. It feels as if it's simply waiting, observing, patient until the moment it finally has you, can drag you under and turn your veins black with ichor.

The outline of Din's shadow is pausing at the entrance to the container. He can't see you, hidden as you are, but you swear that he can sense you, that the shadows seem to murmur to him that you're just a step away. Yet you dare not move, not breathe, not think for fear he can tell you're there.

He only has to take several steps inside, to stretch out a hand and grab you, haul you against him. You're so scared you can’t think of anything else, can't summon anything other than the thought of his broad body pressing yours into the wall of the container, pinning you there. That traitorous, deceitful part of you almost purrs at the thought- of the warrior dragging you from your hiding place and catching you at last, letting his voice hum in your ear as the length of his form grinds into your back. It sends a flutter of something dark and twisted straight to your gut, and you bite your lip in a vain effort to hold back the temptation of surrender just so you can feel that undeniable, delectable taste of his lust over your tongue again.

The memory of his hands, of the way he'd touch you before you left- abandoned him, feels inescapable. His firm touch guiding you, his knees parting your legs as his fingers dance along your spine, dig into your hip and leave delicious bruises behind clogs your throat like smoke. You can still feel him, can feel the weight of him above you, behind you, his breath hot against your nape as his hips grind into yours in a way that makes a fire alight deep within your bones. The ghost of his touch is grounding, aching, hungry against the boundary of your thoughts, and you struggle to not succumb to it, to stay afloat against the depths of your desires.

Din's shadow doesn't move.

You feel your resistance grow thin.

Then, as if the stars themselves have heard you, he moves away from your shelter. You nearly give yourself up- catching a relieved sigh before it can be heard by his keen ears. Unmoving, barely breathing, you wait to hear his footsteps fade further down the gaps between the containers. Even then you wait longer, hands pressed over your mouth and body curled in on itself- fear that Din is still lingering just outside the door.

Yet the instinct to run, to flee is undeniable now. You know every moment you stay here is another for the Darksaber to sink its tether hooks into your flesh, to carve a place for itself in your mind. Every second you stay is putting you and Din at risk, is ensuring that neither of you will be able to escape the wretched fate that awaits within the madness of the blade. Even now you can feel it, can feel something within you coil and twist pleasurably, calling out for Din to find you.

You have to run.

Wobbling like a newborn fawn you stand from your hiding place, trying to find the strength in your legs to clamber out of the container and back into the dimness of the warehouse. Much to your relief, Din is not in fact waiting outside the door. Nor is he around the first corner you pass, or the second. In fact, there's a part of you that's tickling with awareness, that feels that this is too easy, that Din is too silent.

"Why did you run?"

His question, echoing somewhere above you, is so sudden you jolt like you've been shot. Din's voice is different this time, almost as if he's actually expecting a response. For a moment that strange intonation you've heard darken his voice for so long fades, and you feel like this isn't the Mandalorian that asks this of you, but Din.

It's so unexpected that the words form on your lips in reply to him, caught at the last moment as you open your mouth to voice them. They cling to the back of your tongue, harsh and acidic, calling out for him as the sweetness to subside the aftertaste.

I had to. I was afraid. I couldn't face what you've become. You were scaring me. This isn’t you. Something is wrong. I miss you despite myself.

...I love you.

You have to close your eyes for a moment, even at the threat of Din being there when you open them. The stale, dust-laden air settles in your lungs, fists clenching at your sides as you desperately try to ward off the madness that seeps from Din's weapon, which seems to bleed into your bones.

You force yourself forward, focusing on the process of putting one foot in front of the other and not the persistent, hungry, smoldering heat inside you. Din's touch brushes against your skin despite the fact that he's not there, gentle like in your memories but promising a forbidden, darkened pleasure that only the blade can bring.

"Why are you so afraid of me?"

The more you listen, the more the answer to his question feels distant, obscured by shadows. Are you truly that frightened of him? No- not of Din. Din would never hurt you, he only wants to protect you. Even if he did catch you, you know you'd be safe with him, that he'd obliterate anything that ever tried to harm you.

He'd keep you safe. It would only cost him both of your souls.

It’s almost as if Din can feel your resistance, can sense your stubbornness and refusal to succumb to the blade. You're trying desperately to ignore it, to ignore him, to find your way to freedom once more. There's no other choice. To stay here means to surrender, to concede and let both of you be claimed forever. The blade would take you both, devour you until there was nothing left, feeding off you until the only thing that remained was a mere vessel for the blade, a husk of a human being.

You think you're nearing the edge of the maze. You can see the juncture of the ceiling and wall in the distance, far above you, and you know that there has to be an exit, a gap somewhere nearby.

Din knows this too, for you hear his voice, closer now, call out to you in a serpentine warning.

"I'm growing tired of this, cyar'ika." Din growls, the sound a deep rumble in his chest like a distant thunderstorm. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

You've heard that tone before, and you know that Din is giving you one last chance before he comes down on you with the full force of an experienced Mandalorian hunter. Yet you also know that Din is aware of your stubbornness, that if you continue to resist you may actually pose a threat to his efforts to catch you.

Silently, you swear: You'll die before you're caught.

"Last chance." Din growls distantly, and you pause.

It's an instinctual response, when you freeze out of fear at the near malice in his voice. There's a basal, primal part of you that hopes if you stay still, even illuminated by the lights above, that perhaps Din won't see you, won't catch you for the final time. Like a doe hovering at the smallest sound in the woods, you pause, looking for the danger that hides in the shadows.

If you let him touch you, let him hold you, perhaps you wouldn't be so afraid. Maybe you'd even see that this had all just been a waste of time. Maybe you’d see that it was your destiny to stay with him, to be the anchor to his world and the guiding star that chronicles his path. If he could simply touch you, kiss you like he had all that time ago and let his breath dissolve into yours...

You bolt.

You run- run from him, from the saber, from the thoughts that seek to overwhelm any other inside your mind. Most of all you run from the temptation of his embrace, the comfort of his voice whispering yours in the dark as he carves a place for himself inside you. You refuse to succumb to the dark, sweet taste of his pleasure and your desire, falling deeper into madness with every stroke of his fingers, every brush of his lips against your flesh.

The sound of your feet slapping the floor feels like planet shattering tremors- but you no longer care. If it’s your fate to be caught then it won't be hiding, cowering, waiting from him to find you. Din is a hunter, an experienced one. You know there's no place in the galaxy you can run from him, that he will catch you, that it's only a matter of time. It’s the same dance you’ve been doing for moons now, fighting both him and yourself as you struggle against madness and temptation. Din has already been taken with it, long since lost to the seduction of the weapon in his grasp, and with every passing heartbeat he seeks you out, reaches to drag you down into the void beside him.

That doesn't mean you'll make it easy.

You're so determined to escape him that you can feel the fear shedding from you like a second skin, falling away as you sprint towards the barest glimpse of freedom. With every step, every heartbeat you can feel the ghosts of the blade dull at the back of your mind, feel your own courage blossom in your chest. It’s as if your sudden motion brings forth a clarity unlike any other, as sharp and cutting as the edge of Din’s blade. It slices through the doubt and fear in your thoughts, allowing your resolve to seep through and fortify each heavy footfall.

You won't be caught. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly you see it- see the gap between the containers and see the door to the front of the warehouse. It's closed, but you know it will only take a moment to open it, to release you into the shipyards- towards your liberation from this insanity.

"Run all you want." Din's voice taunts, and it feels like it's everywhere, bouncing and resounding throughout the metal around you and the high, arched ceiling. It lays across your skin and threatens to sink into your tightly coiled muscles like an unforgiving chill. "I'll always find you."

He's close, you can sense it, but the thought of him standing in your shadow only drives you forward, throwing yourself at the gap between the containers. Hope is blooming in your chest, warm enough to ward off the cold of his forbidden touch. You can see the door, almost touch it, and you know that there's a ship beyond that you can clamber onto, can hide in as it takes you through the stars and away from him. You just need more time, just a few more days to find the Jedi- to save yourself so you can save him.

You squeeze and wiggle your way through the gap, forcing yourself to fit the narrow passage as your breath spills freely from your lungs. With every passing second you can feel your determination growing, can feel the hope inside you mounting.

A hand wraps around your wrist.

"Found you, Mesh’la."

You're yanked backwards, and you scream, the noise tearing violently from your throat in shock and despair. Yet even as you struggle it only make it easier for Din to haul you backwards, out of the gap and further into his hold.

Your heart is beating so loud you can't breathe, vision blurring and chest clenching as you thrash in his grip. The world feels too small to hold you, shrinking so all you can feel is the sensation of Din's grip snaking further up your arm, his gloved hand a brand against your bare skin. There's a voice yelling, crying out shrilly, and it takes you a moment to realize that it's you.

When Din finally maneuvers you out of the gap he drags you backwards, wrapping his forearms across your chest to secure you in his hold and pinning your arms to your sides. A hand snakes up past your throat to cover your mouth- but when you try to bite at it Din doesn’t even seem to register the pain. You writhe and kick, breath coming in choked, hot gasps as you try vainly to escape despite the mounting fatigue in your bones. It’s too hard to even form words, the noises escaping you primal and desperate.

Din is almost gentle when he kicks out your legs, forcing you to slump in his arms. He follows you down to the ground, sinking you both down until you're curled into his lap, your back pressed into his chest plate.

"Shh." He hushes you, coos in your ear as you hyperventilate. "I have you, you're okay."

You don't hear him. The terror mounting within you is too much to bear, burning out the synapses in your brain and setting your veins on fire. There's a darkness that isn't the blade that is slowly suffocating all your senses, dulling them until they're nothing but a whisper at the back of your thoughts. Even so, you try to struggle, try to contort away from Din's unrelenting grasp.

Yet you feel yourself tiring, feel your muscles strain and weaken and your breath begin to even out. There's something sapping your strength away, leeching it off of you like draining water from a stream. You can't control it, and the harder you struggle against it the weaker you become. There's nothing in your thoughts except the instinct to run, to flee, but even that feels muted, a distant call you're unable to answer. Distantly you know it’s the Darksaber, it’s your horrible proximity to the blade that’s allowing it to corrupt you, bleeding you of your strength and making it easier for Din to overpower you.

You thrash harder in his hold, but his grip is forged from beskar, unbreakable. With every jolt of your body your muscles sag in response, your breath becomes slower, body weakening in his grasp. It drives a sharper fear through you, knowing that this is your worst nightmare come to reality, that there’s nothing you can do except throw yourself uselessly against the walls of your cage until you give up- give in to this wretched fate of yours.

You're so exhausted you don't feel Din's hold on you loosening, don't feel the way you slump into his arms, spent beyond your strength.

"You're okay." Din soothes again, his voice gentle and tender. "I've got you, you're safe."

Safe.

The word leeches the last bit of resistance from you, and despite the voice at the back of your mind urging, screaming at you to struggle, to run, to flee, all you can feel is the weight of sleep beginning to press down on you. Like a velvet embrace it engulfs your senses one by one, blanketing them in a soft drowsiness that has you leaning into it on instinct.

You're so tired. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of scavenging to survive.

Tired of being without him.

"Sleep." Din encourages you, and his hand is petting your hair now, his arm still holding you upright against his chest even as your head lolls, your shoulders sag. "I'm here. I have you."

The last bit of dread within you sparks against the hazy backdrop of your thoughts, and you try to protest- to make a sound against him. yet all it comes out as is a whimper, a small, pathetic sound that has Din shushing you.

"Don't worry." He soothes. "I finally found you, Mesh'la. You're finally safe."

It’s over. You know that now. You’ve lost. There’s nothing you can do. He’s finally caught you once and for all.

Unable to do anything else, you surrender to the sinister temptation of sleep, and as you drift off you hear Din’s final promise before the world fades to nothingness.

“I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

-----

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