#sure I crawled here painfully and with much difficulty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

penny-anna · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing Geraskier, number 8 for the prompt game?

this one got a bit out of hand!!

better judgement

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it?”

Jaskier goes with Geralt on a hunt and makes a near-fatal mistake.

(on ao3!)

He was lying on his belly in the mud, the bushes screening him from view; his ears primed for any sound, his eyes trained upon the water of the marsh, watching for even the slightest ripple. He didn’t move a muscle. He breathed slowly. He could do this for days, if he had to.

A nudge against his ribs. “Hey. How long is this going to take?”

He cursed mentally. “I told you to be quiet.”

“I know,” Jaskier whispered. “That’s why I’m whispering.”

Geralt didn’t dignify him with a response.

Jaskier elbowed him again. “Geralt. How long is this going to take? Cause my legs are cramping.”

“You wanted to come,” Geralt said.

“It’s just, and I stand by that decision – it’s just that I’d appreciate a more specific itinerary –”

Something splashed out in the marsh and Geralt clapped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, silencing him.

“Mmf!”

“Shht!”

The marsh had gone quiet. It was only a diving bird. Slowly, reluctantly, he released Jaskier’s mouth.

“You got mud on my face!” the bard hissed, scandalised.

“You said you’d do as you were told.”

If you want to come you’ll do exactly as I tell you, he’d said. Jaskier had smiled sunnily and said of course – of course – I shall defer to your expertise. He should have known better than to trust him.

“I am!” Jaskier persisted.

“No you aren’t.”

“Are we going to lie here all day?”

Against his better judgement, he tore his eyes away from the water. “What did you expect?”

Jaskier shrugged. “More action than this?”

“I told you I was going to wait for it to come out of hiding.”

“Well, I didn’t expect it to take quite this long.”

“It’s been less than an hour,” said Geralt. “Will you just shut your damned mouth?”

“So can I take it this is going to be an all-day affair?”

The water rippled. Geralt grabbed his arm.

“Because – ow,” said Jaskier. “Sooner or later I am going to have to p–”

Shoving him further back into the bushes, Geralt said, “say down.”

“Hey –”

The beast rose out of the water, serpentine, slate-green. He strode out of the bushes to face it, his sword raised. It was bigger than he’d expected and it was quick in the water. He’d need to draw it up onto land –

A sound behind him and the creature’s broad snout snapped around, its attention caught by something else – by an easier meal.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath and turning he cried, “Jaskier!”

He had left the cover of the bushes, stumbling backwards across the rough ground. His eyes were big and round and trained upon the beast and what he thought he was doing Geralt couldn’t imagine. Stepping forward he put himself between Jaskier and the marsh beast, reaching behind himself to touch the bard’s chest, steadying him.

“Behind me,” he said – but before the words were even out of his mouth the beast reared up and he saw what was about to happen.

He had only a moment to react, and he reacted on pure instinct. He didn’t need to think about it. Turning he grabbed Jaskier, pulling him close, curling around him, shielding him with his body. A hand on the back of his head he forced Jaskier’s face into his armoured chest and braced himself for the inevitable.

The beast’s venom burned across his back, a strip of fire as wide as his arm, dissolving clean through his armour, eating into his skin and flesh. He could hear sizzling on either side of him as the vegetation burned away. The air stang his nostrils. White-hot liquid was running down his back, scorching every part of him that it touched, and he willed himself to breathe. In a moment it would be over.

A splash behind him as it sank back below the water of the marsh and through the pain a detached part of his mind registered that they were safe. The bard was shivering in his arms, alive, uninjured.

He sank to his knees in the mud, taking Jaskier down heavily with him. He’d had worse. But it would take some time to heal. The pain was blinding. It would be hard to talk and it was a long way back to the village. It would be difficult to keep the burns clean, out in the mud and grime of the marsh. It would be difficult to avoid infection. He could feel his armour sticking to his ruined flesh and he gritted his teeth at the sensation, at the new layer of pain. He was nauseated. His heart was thrumming – his head swimming –

“Oh gods,” Jaskier said against his chest. “Oh gods – Geralt – what –”

He was aware abruptly that he was still holding Jaskier tight against his body, squeezing him harder than he ought to. The bard was shifting in his arms, struggling, trying to pull away. “Geralt,” he said. “Geralt, are you alright?”

Slowly, with some difficulty, he relaxed his grip. Jaskier was shaking, his eyes big, his pupils frightened pin-pricks. Holding him by the shoulders, Geralt checked he wasn’t burnt. He was fine. The venom had missed him. It was a comfort. “Are you alright?” he said, to be sure.

Jaskier’s eyes went to his shoulder. “Fuck me,” he said, reaching out to touch his ruined armour.

Geralt caught his hand and flinched, grunting in pain, as the movement pulled at his back.

“Did it –”

“Don’t.” Geralt pushed his hands away.

“Let me see.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s arm and Geralt let him look. He didn’t have it in him to fight.

At the sight of the burns Jaskier paled. “Ohh no,” he said. “Oh, fuck no.”

“It looks worse than it is.” His vision was blurring. He made an attempt to get up. His legs wobbled. “Shit.”

“What do you need?” said Jaskier.

“My pack.”

Jaskier nodded shakily, and went. When he came back a moment later Geralt said, “water.” Jaskier fetched his flask and went to put it to his lips, but Geralt shook his head. “No. On the burns.”

“Do you –”

“Need to wash them.”

“I don’t know –”

“Just pour it over.”

The water was cold, and it stang. He groaned aloud at the pain, his breath leaving him.

Jaskier took him by the arm, trying to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“Bandages,” Geralt managed. He could worry about the pain when his back was clean and dressed. It was lessening now anyway, now that the venom was washed away.

Jaskier was glancing anxiously at the marsh. “Is it going to come –”

“Not yet,” said Geralt. “It takes – a few hours for its venom to –”

“Alright – alright, hush.”

He helped him off with his armour and shirt. His hands were shaking, as he began to wrap the bandages around his chest.

“Is that it?” he said as he tied them off.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Good,” Jaskier said, and turning he crawled away on his hands and knees and retched into the mud.

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. He wiped his mouth. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Raising his head he said, “you didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

Alone, he would have dodged it. There’d been no time to warn Jaskier, or get him to safety. He’d known the bard wouldn’t have the knowledge or the reflexes to save himself. If Jaskier had taken the venom to his face or chest it would have killed him, messily and painfully. Taking the brunt of it had been the only logical thing to do.

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Geralt shrugged the remains of his shirt back on. It pulled at the burns and he swayed on the spot. With the adrenaline of the fight fading it was getting harder to think around the pain. He could feel his mind turning glassy. This was bad. He’d had worse. But it was bad.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s hands cupped his face. “Geralt? Are you going to be okay? Please say you’ll be okay.”

Geralt grunted.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jaskier pleaded. “I need you to – Geralt, hey.” He lifted Geralt’s sinking head, looking him in the eye. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

He wanted to lie down in the mud and sleep. He might have done, if he was alone.

He gripped Jaskier’s arm. “Help me up.”

Jaskier levered him to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, you’re okay. Oof,” he said as Geralt leaned on him. “Oh, you’re heavy.”

One foot in front of the other, he walked. He just needed to get back to his horse, he told himself – and then to the village – and then he could rest.

Later, his back properly bandaged, a potion in him to take the edge off the pain, he sat upon his bed. He was looking over his ruined armour to see what could be salvaged. There wasn’t much that was undamaged.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked.

“Mm?” Jaskier was across the room, fidgeting in his chair, toying with his notebook but not really writing. “I – I really am sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep saying it,” said Geralt. “You panicked. It happens.”

“I shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” said Jaskier. “You told me as much.”

Geralt thought, I shouldn’t have let you come.

“It happened,” he said. “I’ve had worse. Don’t dwell on it.”

“I can’t help dwelling on it,” said Jaskier. “And, I think I shall be seeing what it did to your back in my dreams.” He closed his notebook. “Are you going to go back out there again?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Is there anything I can to do help?”

“No,” said Geralt. He put aside his armour and reached for the water jug upon the table.

The simple motion pulled at the still open burns on his back and he winced, hissing. “Let me,” said Jaskier, half falling out of his chair in his haste to cross the room.

He filled a cup, and sat tentatively upon the edge of the bed, sitting by Geralt while he drank. “Is it,” he said, “is it going to scar?”

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Badly?”

“Probably.”

“Gods,” said Jaskier. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt grunted.

“You didn’t need to let it burn you,” Jaskier said. “It was my fault.”

“I’d do it again.”

“Really?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Why?”

“It’s what I do,” said Geralt. He toyed with his cup. “You did good out there.”

“I really don’t think that I did,” said Jaskier.

“You did what I needed you to when it counted,” said Geralt. “Thanks.”

Jaskier breathed in, and out. “Thank you for not letting it melt my face off.”

Geralt said, “any time.”

#the witcher

107 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: captured reader, angst, bonding with Grogu, plot plot plot

Author Note: To anyone and everyone sticking with this series, I love you so much! I know the plot is more than a little thick right now, but answers are slowly but surely being revealed.

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You pace the length of the cell, brow furrowed as you try to organize your racing thoughts. Between the chilly atmosphere and the severed bond wailing for its other half, you imagine you outwardly resemble the jittery and unbalanced mess you feel internally. You refuse to feel humiliated by your appearance, not when the witnesses are Gideon and his minions. They can think what they want about you, believe they have broken your spirit, because that just means they won’t expect it when you free yourself until it’s too late.

However, part two of your plan of escape is proving to be more challenging to conceptualize than you initially thought. The collar is tightly wound around your neck to the point of chafing. Apparently the rule of being able to slip two fingers under a collar is only applicable to animals in Gideon’s eyes because your attempt of slipping your finger between skin and metal is dissuaded by another electric shock zipping through your body.

However, as you lightly trail your fingertips over the cold metal, you’re surprised to feel a noticeable dip in the back. It’s not a design flaw, you think as you try to visualize it in your mind. Your heartbeat quickens as realization strikes: it’s a keyhole.

Any excitement you might feel at your discovery is spoiled by the fact a keyhole is useless without a key. You look at the laser gate, further disappointed as you contemplate the complexity of the tunnel system. There could be dozens of cells down here, potentially thousands of hiding places for Gideon to keep the key to the collar secure. Not to mention, you don’t even know what the key looks like. It could be hanging right outside the cell and you’d have no idea.

Lost in the sea of disparaging thoughts, you don’t notice the return of the baby crawling through the hole in the wall until he latches onto your foot. Startled, you barely manage to refrain from shouting a curse as you stare down at him. He giggles, clearly amused by your wide-eyed expression, and then slaps a silver plastic bag against your shin using the hand that isn’t gripping his favorite black cloth.

“Did you bring me a present?” you ask, taking a seat on the pallet and lifting him up onto your lap. This time when you reach forward, he willingly lets you take the item from him instead of trying to take a chunk out of your hand.

You tear open the plastic, revealing its contents to be five teal-colored cookies.

“Wow, bud,” you murmur, holding one up between pinched fingers. The treat smells distinctively like vanilla. From what you’ve witnessed, you doubt Gideon is the type to offer his prisoners dessert with their meals which means these were probably stolen from somewhere. “Where did you find these?”

The baby only babbles unintelligibly in response, gesturing with his free hand in the direction of somewhere beyond the laser gate. You nod along, feigning understanding, but your eyes can’t help but drift to his collar when he turns his head. The keyhole for his collar is smaller than you expect to see which has you quickly theorizing there is not one universal key for all of the collars. If that theory is true, then it raises the difficulty of escaping yet another level.

With a sigh you cram the cookie into your mouth, finding the tiniest smidge of joy in its crunchiness.

“When we get out of here I’ll buy you a dozen boxes of these,” you tell him once you’ve swallowed, offering him one of the cookies. He coos excitedly and takes a large bite, uncaring of the blue crumbs that rain down upon his coat. “And once Din sees you, I bet he’ll want to spoil you rotten, too. He has a not-so-secret soft spot for kids.”

The baby’s head tilts, reacting to the name-drop by making a confused gurgling sound around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” you scold gently, tapping his nose with your finger and laughing under your breath when it proceeds to scrunch up in an adorable manner. Leaning your head back against the wall, you’re unable to keep the note of wistful longing out of your voice as you explain, “Din is my soulmate. To the rest of the world, he’s known as Death. They’ll have you believe he’s someone to be feared and avoided at all cost. But luckily I’m here to tell you the truth.”

He stares up at you, snack seemingly forgotten in favor of listening intently to every word coming out of your mouth. Distantly you think you should be a little scared by how intense his gaze is, as if he’s attempting to look past your skin to the soul beneath, but you remind yourself all babies are innately curious and don’t know it’s rude to stare.

“He’ll never admit to it himself, but underneath all that beskar armor, he is the most socially inept being in the galaxy. I swear, bud, the first time I met him I thought it was impossible for him to say more than two words or else he’d hurt himself.” Your lips twitch at the memory, the smallest of smiles you can make without it feeling forced. “Still, despite his horrible first impression, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but—look, I know how crazy this sounds, okay? But I felt like I had to get to know him better. There was this voice in my head insisting we couldn’t just remain strangers. It took about ten thousand questions and three more meetings for me to earn his trust enough for him to take off his helmet and let me see his face.”

You take a deep breath and stroke your finger over the baby’s ears, needing to feel something other than the flaring pulse of pain from the bond. “One look at those beautiful brown eyes and I was done for.”

Saying Din’s eyes are brown feels sinful. It’s like saying the ocean is blue—accurate, but not detailed enough to describe its depth and volatility. There are days when his eyes are the shade of brown reminding you of leather bound journals—ancient and full of profound wisdom, meant to be admired and cherished for an entire lifetime. Other times, they are the kind of brown that matches your favorite chocolate pastry from the bakery down the street from your apartment—decadent and warm with the slightest hint of temptation.

“When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll all be happy together.”

And I’ll never get tired of seeing those brown eyes everyday.

The hours start to bleed into one another. The baby snoozes in your lap, head pillowed on your thigh, but you have no idea if it’s night or day. Gideon had said he’d let you talk to Din ‘tomorrow’, but that doesn’t tell you how many days you’ve been here in total.

Your legs have started to feel numb from sitting in the same position so long, but the last thing you want is to wake him up by moving. The importance of him feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and sleep is not lost on you. His desire for attention and physical contact is so painfully obvious you hate thinking about how often he must have been ignored before your arrival.

As he sleeps, you’re unable to resist your curiosity any longer and carefully maneuver the piece of cloth out of his grip. Despite its aged and dirty appearance, it is still surprisingly soft to touch. Whatever article of clothing this was torn from must have been well-tailored, you think, imagining a hooded cloak or perhaps a long coat. Your nose twitches when you hold the cloth close to your face to better study it, reacting to the variety of odors embedded in the wool fibers. Maker knows how long the kid’s been dragging the fabric around with him without it being washed regularly, so you shouldn’t be surprised it has absorbed a couple dozen scents.

Still, the faint essence of smoke you detect swirls around in your brain even long after you’ve laid the cloth back over him like a makeshift blanket. Memories of your death start to resurface again despite your best mental efforts to push them away, causing your stomach to clench with nausea as you recall the horrific stench of charred remains.

It isn’t the same, you tell yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your head to clear itself. It can’t be because that day was fifty years ago and he’s only just a baby.

You repeat these thoughts like a mantra until, without meaning to, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

You’re startled awake by hands seizing hold of your arms and pulling you up onto your feet without warning. You yelp at the sudden rush back to consciousness, brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Your eyes sweep the ground, panic washing over you like a bucket of cold water when you fail to see a tiny green body.

“It’s time, pet,” the twi’lek’s voice hits your ears and you turn to see her standing near the cell’s entrance, a lantern in one hand and a shiny blade in the other. “The Moff is expecting you.”

It takes you a minute to process in your frazzled state, but you realize it must be time to talk to Din. You’re shoved forward by whoever has your arms twisted behind your back, but you manage another quick survey of the cell. There is no sign the baby was ever here and you send a quick prayer to the Maker he had snuck back through the hole without anyone seeing him.

You have mixed feelings about not being blindfolded as you’re led through the underground labyrinth. On one hand, you get to observe everything and everyone you come across, making as many mental notes to flip through later when you’re alone. On the other, you think this must be an intimidation tactic. Gideon wants you to see everything so you know with absolute certainty how high the odds are stacked against you.

There are cells identical in appearance to yours on either side of you, carved into the tunnel rock and blocked from entry by laser gates. Except not one of them contains a prisoner. Either you have severely overestimated the size of Gideon’s collection, or he is purposefully keeping you separate from the rest for reasons known only to him.

Another surprising and unsettling observation you make is how many different types of species Gideon has employed as minions—human, rodian, trandoshan, you even spot a devaronian in the mix. Except for the Cupid twi’lek in front of you, everyone you come across is mortal. It does not make much sense to you why a seraph as powerful as Gideon is relying on mortal henchmen to help maintain control of his secret prison. Your gut instinct is insisting you’re missing a vital piece of information and you don’t like being in the dark about it.

The tunnel you’re being marched down eventually opens up into a larger cavernous space with several dozen lanterns hanging along the walls providing ample lighting. There are several crates spread about the area, and some have been pried open to reveal they are packed full of blasters and ammunition. You rack your brain trying to determine the purpose of the weapons. Yes, clearly, they are meant to cause havoc and destruction, but why are they here? Who or what is the target they will be aimed at?

Gideon stands in the middle of the room next to an empty chair. On his other side is a mortal human male, bald-headed with ginger facial scruff, who has two blaster pistols holstered around his chest and yet another one held by a droid arm attached to his backpack. Overkill much?

You’re shoved in the direction of the chair and gruffly told to sit. Huffing, you wordlessly obey and try not to squirm as all eyes lock onto you as if you’re going to perform a trick for their entertainment.

“You have a minute to record your message,” Gideon says, holding out a piece of paper towards you. “These words I have prepared must be included in those precious sixty seconds or you might find me reluctant to allow you to send a second recording.”

Is he serious? This isn’t the arrangement you previously discussed with him.

“Record?” you repeat, reluctantly taking the paper.

“I never said you would have the opportunity of speaking to Death face-to-face.” You want more than anything to tear the condescending smirk off his face with your fingernails. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the mortal saying? You would know better than me, living amongst them in that quaint little apartment on Umbriel.”

Of course he knows about your home. Of kriffing course he does.

Heartbeat quickening, you avoid eye contact by scanning the few lines of words he’s written, eyebrows slowly inching up your forehead the more you read. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a demand to kill anyone. What does it mean?”

“Now is not the time for you to know,” he answers cryptically.

You shake your head, insisting, “Well maybe it should be. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to tell I’m confused and—“

Gideon’s heavy sigh interrupts you. Then, quicker than you anticipate, he steps to the side of you and unsheathes his sword, its black blade positioned at your throat. It happens in one fluid movement, and the danger of your current predicament doesn’t sink in until the frightening humming notes of the weapon register in your eardrums seconds later. Your expressionless mask wavers, facial muscles tightening as you fail to refrain from flinching.

“All that is required from you, Cupid 1-1-7, is for you to speak from the heart and convince him to follow this one instruction. Do you think you can accomplish that?” he asks the question as if you have an actual choice. Like you can walk away now and there will be no hurt feelings.

But that is ridiculous. Everyone knows Cupids don’t get to have choices. Not when they are only given orders to obey.

You give him the tiniest of nods, careful not to let your skin make contact with the blade. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

The nav computer on the Razor Crest contains the coordinates of every moon and planet within each region of the galaxy. There is not one inch of space unknown to Din and yet his search for his angel continues to remain unsuccessful. He doesn’t consider the possibility of her being deceased for even half a second. As her soulmate he would have felt her passing the moment it happened. The bond he shares with his angel might be young and fragile still, but he doesn’t doubt her loss would eviscerate him in the same merciless manner he had done to Hess.

His inability to find her can only mean a powerful immortal is involved in her capture. As Death he roams the universe as a neutral entity. The only enemies he encountered—and he uses that term loosely—were foolish mortals thinking they could outlive their destined time by fighting him, only to ultimately meet their fated ends in the process. Prior to Hess’ demise, he had upheld his sworn creed to the universe and never once was tempted to defy the natural order or break a sacred rule.

Although admittedly strange to consider, the thought that maybe his angel’s capture isn’t meant to deliberately hurt him or her is one that keeps crossing his mind. Perhaps they are merely pieces in a game neither of them recognize nor want to willingly participate in.

As Din sits in the pilot’s seat, staring at the screen dispassionately through the visor of his helmet still coated with Hess’ blood, he is well-aware of Bo-Katan standing behind him, attempting to freeze him solid with her iciest glare.

She is the bravest of his reapers, unafraid to piss him off and counteract his opinions with her own. Yet ever since they left Hess’ body hanging in the warehouse and returned to the Crest, she’s not said one word to him, seemingly content to suffer in silence as a background presence while he contemplates whether he should be the one to track down the twi’lek Hess referenced or if he should have his reapers engage in the hunt.

“We’re going to talk about what happened,” Bo-Katan says coolly.

He grinds his teeth. “We will talk if and when I want to.”

“No.” She forcefully pulls at his chair, turning it around to face her. A snarl escapes him, animalistic and furious, but her green eyes don’t even blink, not the least bit intimidated. “You reaped a soul before it’s destined time. The universe isn’t going to easily forgive you for that. There will be consequences.”

“The only thing that matters is getting her back,” he answers. It’s the truth too. The second his angel was taken he knew there was not one rule he wouldn’t break to have her back in his arms—consequences be damned.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Bo-Katan asks, looking him over as if she no longer recognizes him. Her eyes linger just a second too long on his bloodstained gloves. “You’re losing your mind over a soulmate you’ve barely known a year.”

“Have you ever had someone you loved taken from you?” Din counters.

She scowls, eyes narrowing with loathing. “How dare you compare—”

“Answer the question!” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the armrest hard enough the metal creaks ominously.

“Yes.” Her chin dips briefly towards her chest as she takes a second to compose herself. “You know I have.”

Din does know. Hours prior to every major catastrophic event in the galaxy’s history he’s felt an invisible leash wrap around him, pulling him in the direction of the tragedy and demanding he be there to personally reap the souls of the victims in the aftermath. He had witnessed the destruction of Bo-Katan’s homeworld when it was ravaged by a series of bombings orchestrated by an unknown enemy. Thousands had been killed, including Bo-Katan’s sister.

He doesn’t let the silence stretch too long, voice unwavering as he says, “And if you had the chance, would you not kill the one responsible for your pain?”

“It wouldn’t bring her back. Not any of them.”

Din sighs, glancing away, but Bo-Katan surprises him not even ten seconds later, apparently unfinished.

“I’d still do it though,” she says, not sounding the least bit guilty for admitting to hypothetical murder. “I’d carve the heart out of whoever set off those bombs and force-feed it to them.”

“We’re more alike than you may think,” Din says. “Think about that before you question my actions again.”

Any potential response from his reaper is interrupted by the beeping of an incoming transmission. He turns his chair at once, noticing the recorded message’s origin source is a random scrambling of letters and numbers. Every instinct is telling him he won’t like what he sees, but his hand reaches forward anyways, as if possessed by an unseen force, and presses the button to view the recording.

His angel appears as a holographic figure and immediately his eyes zero in on the collar around her neck. Anger threatens to course through his veins again, but Din forces his lungs to draw in a deep breath. Now is not the time to unleash his temper. Now is the time to listen and commit every word she says to memory, to study her every feature for any sign she’s been hurt.

“Death,” she begins, and his entire body tenses at the use of his title and not his name. It’s been so long since she’s addressed him as such, he knows it can’t be accidental. “I hope this message reaches you wherever you are. More than anything I wish I could be with you right now. I’m so sorry I broke my pinky promise to you, sweetheart. The way our bond is...I hate to think you’re feeling as much pain as I do.”

Din’s heart shatters when she starts to anxiously rub at her soulmate marking, sniffling quietly. His fingers itch with the overwhelming longing to hold her hand.

“I’m not safe here. What they’ve threatened to do to me...it scares me. I-I need to ask you a favor, a very important one.” A few teardrops escape the corners of her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Din bites the inside of his mouth so harshly he tastes blood. “If you want to protect me, then you must let go.”

The transmission goes dead.

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @oh-no-a-whovian, @over300books, @chibi-yuki, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

#din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #my writing

292 notes · View notes

slashersins-abandoned · 3 years

Text

anonymous asked :

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand .

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out .

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill .

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you .

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves .

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth .

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to .

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston … preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life .

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back .

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family .

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t .

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood .

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat .

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness … you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop .

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom .

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place .

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

382 notes · View notes

slashersins · 4 years

Note

mmmm somft reader with their murder men in a somft moment ! ! !

brahms

michael

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston . . . preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

thomas

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness . . . you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

460 notes · View notes

littlesniggy · 3 years

Text

Mistress

Anon: Hiiiii hope ur day is doing great. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I was wondering if I could get Coby with DOM fem s/o like she is teasing him a lot during their heated session. Like she asks him to take off her bra but he being to shy to do it.

Hope ur day goes well from here on out 💟

I might've gotten carried away a little bit with the DOM part but I hope you like it nevertheless. I get to like writing for Coby more and more so yeah....especially shy/Sub Coby.

Warning: 18+, smut, nsfw, DOM/sub, sub! Coby, DOM reader

Word count: 1.7k

“C’mon, Coby. You can do better.” An innocent remark, in another context probably seen as encouragement but on your tongue like an insult to the pink haired male. He winced under your soft hand caressing his cheek and he got down again, his tongue gliding over your wet slit, coating your pussy in addition with his saliva. His hands were tied behind his back, a silky blindfold covering his eyes. His dick was rock hard, pressing against his lower abdomen, pre-cum wetting his stomach.

You had to admit, he looked irresistible and you wanted nothing more than to sink on his dick and fuck yourself senseless on it but he had to earn it first. You let out an approving moan, seeing his dick twitch at the sound. “That’s way better, Coby.” You praised, hand moving to the back of his head and pushing him even closer to your core, his nose pressing against your clit.

Coby’s tongue moved in and out of you, exploring your most private part, and licking up your juice. You closed your eyes, enjoying his ministration; his hot breath against your wet core, his small moans in-between, and the rocking of his hips from time to time, trying to find some friction which you denied him. He seemed to enjoy himself nevertheless.

“Do you want me to touch you?” your voice was alluring but Coby knew better than to simply say yes; you had trained him better after all. He lifted his head, lips wet, his tongue licking them to swallow the rest of your juice. “If it is not a hassle to you, Mistress.” He answered. He looked like a small puppy hoping for a treat and who were you to deny it to him? But like all good puppies did he have to earn it first.

“Do you think you deserve to be touched?” It was a trick question and no matter what he said you wouldn’t give him what he wanted – what he needed. “Haven’t I been a good boy, Mistress?” You shuddered every time he called you mistress. It made you wet instantly. You leaned forward, the chair making a small creak as you moved, your elbows supporting yourself on your knees, looking down at him. Your breasts were inches away from his face and you knew he could feel their presence since his dick twitched once again. Like a puppy he was kneeling in front of you, legs slightly spread for you to see all of him.

“Coby, Coby, Coby.” You started, a hand running through his pink strands, pushing them out of his face. “Do you remember why you are in this predicament in the first place?” you asked him and he lowered his head in shame. “Yes, Mistress.” He answered quietly. “So, you can answer the question yourself if you’ve been a good boy, can’t you?” “Yes…” his voice got even softer. You grabbed his hair hard and pulled his head back, revealing his throat to you. He moaned at you action, hips rocking forward in dire need for friction. Your face came closer, your noses almost touching. “Then how can you ask if you’ve been a good boy, Coby? I don’t like it if you ask pointless questions.” You hissed, letting go of his hair.

Coby panted heavily, head hanging low and trying to find some composure again. You leaned back in your chair again, lifting one leg and draping it over the armrest. “Keep going, Coby.” You demanded. Instantly, his head moved back forward, finding your core a little bit clumsily. His lips moved around your clit, sucking on it or circling his tongue around it. You moaned shamelessly, rocking your hips against his face.

Slowly, you felt your orgasm creep closer and as much as you wanted to ride it out on his tongue and leave him hanging (or in his case standing) a part of you felt pity for him, so you decided against it. Suddenly, you pushed him away and got up, walking past him towards the bed. Coby turned his head in the direction of your footsteps but stayed where he was. “Come here.” You ordered. Coby got up awkwardly but managed eventually, his body a little hunched over as he walked towards your voice. Your eyes moved over his body and you couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his dripping dick.

“Stop.” He obliged and stood still in front of you. For a moment, there was only the sound of his heavy breathing and he squirmed under your breath. Your hand moved forward and without a warning let your flat palm glide over his shaft. He jerked towards your touch and moaned deeply, making you bite your lips at the sound. Your hand wrapped around his member and moved up and down painfully slow. Coby had difficulties holding back the jerking of his hips but he couldn’t always suppress it. “You know what happens of you move, don’t you?” you asked, stopping your movements. “Y-yes, Mistress.” He stuttered. A small smile crossed your lips and you started moving your hand again, feeling the hot meat under your touch and the sticky pre-cum you used as lube.

Coby moaned shyly. It seemed like he was desperately trying to focus his attention on something else in order not to cum yet. “M-Mistress….please…” he panted, body trembling a little. “Please what?” you asked, twisting your hand and squeezing slightly, making him moan out loud. “P-please…stop teasing me….” He pleaded. You stayed silent but kept moving your hand, enjoying how he slowly but surely crumbled under your touch.

“Alright.” You saw how a burdens seemed to fall off his shoulders when you let go of his dick, a small string of pre-cum connecting his dick with your hand. “I want you to take off the rest of my clothes.” You told him and he seemed confused when you didn’t untie him. “W-will you untie my hands, Mistress?” he asked carefully and you chuckled. “Use your mouth.” You suggested and he turned beet red. “M-my mouth?” “Why so shy, all of a sudden? You were just eating me out with those soft lips. So, this shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Coby bit his lip, his face even redder than before, if that was even possible.

You watched him come closer, his mouth searching for you. They first found your collarbone and you closed your eyes when he started leaving soft kisses on his way down. You were wearing a tight T-Shirt and you knew he probably wouldn’t be able to take it off you but you wanted to see him try. His mouth wandered over your collarbone, reached the collar of your T-Shirt and moved down your breasts until he reached the hem of your T-Shirt. After a few attempts did he finally catch the fabric between his teeth and pulled it up but always failed when he attempted to move it over your breasts, forcing him to start all over again.

You saw him getting frustrated and more and more flustered. “M-Mistress….I-I need help.” He admitted. The smile on your face widened and gracious as you were did you help him take off your T-Shirt. You threw it to the floor and waited for him to continue. “Thank you, Mistress.” He said before kissing his way back up again, leaving a wet trail until he reached your bra. Your breasts were pressing against his face when he squeezed between your tits, his tongue and teeth looking for the clasp he knew was in the front.

You closed your eyes relishing, small moans leaving your mouth. His dick was rubbing against your thigh, leaving another wet and sticky trail, this time made of pre-cum instead of saliva. “Coby, stop it!” you were quick to reprimand him and like a good dog he stopped. He seemed to have found the clasp though since your bra sprung open and exposed your breasts. Coby moaned and buried his face between the soft tits. You let him do as he pleased since it felt really good; his lips found your nipple, sucking on it and making your back arch against his touch. He soon moved to the other one, biting down a little, earning himself a slap on the head. “I didn’t say you were allowed to do this.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“I will forgive you; lay down on the bed, Coby.” Without another word he obliged and crawled onto the huge bed, laying on his back, hands awkwardly behind his back. He looked so good, it made your pussy clench in anticipation. Slowly, you climbed on top of him, your entrance moving over the tip of his dick, making him moan but this time he didn’t rock his hips up; he knew you would torture him even more. “Good boy.” You praised him and let yourself sink on his dick slowly. Coby moaned out loud and as anticipated couldn’t hold himself back, thrusting up into you, making you moan in response.

To your surprise you felt him tremble underneath you, then he curled up, a strained moan escaping his lips and something hot filled you from the inside. You were stunned, to say the least. Did he just cum? Just to confirm you lifted your hips until he moved out, white liquid slowly dripping out your core and still pumping out the small slit in his dick, running down the shaft and on his stomach.

“I-I’m sorry! I couldn’t hold back! It was too much for me, Mistress!” he apologized and you couldn’t help but giggle. He looked panicked, couldn’t see you. You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss. “You’re too cute, Coby.” You said in a soft voice. You probably went a little bit over board with your teasing. You would try to remember it for the next time. He relaxed under you, his chest heaving, trying to come down from his orgasm. “But you’re aware that I’m not done yet, right? Let’s give you some time and try again. After all, you can’t leave a lady unsatisfied, can you?”

#one piece #op #op coby #ns.fw #op scenario #request #dom/sub #mugiwara

120 notes · View notes

pastelsandpining · 3 years

Note

congrats on 200 followers!! my request: botw zelink with Selfless by the strokes :)

this turned out a tiny bit more of a Zelda piece than a Zelink piece but it's still there! I hope this is to your liking volt my beloved

Selfless

words: 1806

warnings: read with caution; grief, death mention, vague disassociation

Masterlist

------

It was quite the feeling, to be everything and nothing all at once. Zelda couldn’t recall what it was like to be physical. She couldn’t recall much more than the blank space she existed in, and the horrible sounds that encompassed it every time she was so painfully reminded of where she was. Only in those moments of remembrance, of realization, was she able to get glimpses of the land she’d given up so much for. So much of her kingdom had been lost: children, buildings, the very friends she swore to fight alongside. The Calamity claimed everything in its path and it devoured her, too. It was only fitting, fair, even that she should suffer in the void of existence with nothing but a demon and whispers of hatred as her companion.

Zelda was not in Hyrule, not really. Her body might’ve been, but she was elsewhere, using every bit of strength that she’d failed to have before, in the hopes that her one connection to her home would find his way back to her. But for a very long time, he lay buried deep inside a shrine on a hill. The only evidence he was there at all was the warm, very small, and very dormant ball settled in her chest, pulsating softly with every breath he took in his endless slumber.

It was like that for one hundred long, lonely years. The rhythm of his heart, slow but stable, was what kept her from losing touch completely. Goddess powers or not, corporeal or not, someone could only take so much of corruption, of malice, until it started to gnaw away at her peace of mind. It was a good thing that peace of mind was not an essential part of the sealing power, but she’d already lost everything. It would be too easy to lose herself as well... No, he would come, she just knew it, and she would live against the odds, for him.

So Zelda waited, ever patient, watching the land of Hyrule pass in bleary, half conscious moments. A flicker of a new birth here, a wave of grief there, a family settling down, a crack of lightning, a call of a bird, all things once insignificant—common. Now, it gave her the assurance that people were still fighting on, continuing to push forwards despite a devastating loss. They were still Hylia’s people, after all, and the Goddess herself put up many good fights.

The kingdom was as still as ever, as silent as the heavy night, when the hero finally stirred. It was nothing more than a twitch of the eyelids, a strengthening of a heartbeat, but she felt it like a fire burning through her chest, sending hope to the tips of her very fingers. He was alive, to what extent, she didn’t know. But she took that warmth and reached out with it, surfing across Hyrule until finally, at last, he came into focus.

“Link,” she called out, into the void of nothing. His eyelids fluttered. If she was corporeal, if she had any physicality at all, she would’ve sobbed. Instead, she tried his name again, begging in a whisper, “open your eyes.”

Whether he was truly hearing her, whether he recognized her voice or not, his eyes opened. They’d never looked more blue.

But she was not the only powerful being with the capability to sense an awakening. Calamity Ganon could feel it too, and for a moment, Zelda was fearful that it would get to him before she did. It would cry out, loud and obnoxious and horrible, and get into his head like the monstrous thing it was. She couldn’t let that happen, not again. Link did not deserve the horrid fate of facing him twice, though the cards had already been dealt. So she did all she could, instructing him from afar until he emerged at last from his grave. The light was brighter now. She could see him better, all of him, from the scarred skin to the shaky limbs and anxious stature. He was lovely, still.

Zelda wanted nothing more than to burst from her prison and accompany him on his journey. She wished to heal his mind and heart, tell him everything so that he was no longer in the dark, and warn him about the horrors he would face. She wanted to feel his arms again, hear his voice, hug him in those moments she knew so well: those moments when it all felt like too much. But sealing the Calamity, caging its physical form in the very midst of Hyrule Castle, a mere few meters away from where her father and mother’s thrones once sat, took a great deal of power. She could not watch him, protect him as much as she wanted to. She wouldn’t last forever, and so conserving was key. Zelda did not rush him, she did not plead or beg. It was his decision to make, it was his readiness to determine, and she’d already waited a century. What was a little more time?

She lended him something else instead, with every break he took to confront the Goddess. She gave what she had plenty of: strength. Every bit of drained power, every little increase in difficulty to contain the demon, was worth it to see him thrive. Link would come in his own time, and she would be ready for him when he did. Besides, she didn’t mind waiting. She enjoyed those moments when clarity hit, when she could see his progress from her spot in the realm of nothingness. A naturally gifted boy in many ways, but there was something so precious in the way he worked. In the years before, Zelda had come to understand him as this hard working and duty driven boy, but it was so much more intimate to see his efforts herself. Oftentimes, she felt it was something she shouldn’t have been seeing, but she was proud nonetheless. Link would always come to be the hero he was meant to be. Courageous, determined, selfless.

And when he stormed the castle, the warm pulse in her chest thundering in time with his the closer he came, she’d never seen him look so angry. Of course, he’d lost as much as she, if not more. He had every right to be angry. For one bitter but sweet, satisfying moment, she felt for the Calamity. It had its victory, and Link would not let it get another. He was vicious and cruel and precise, and it seemed now, he was returning all of what she’d lent him. Perhaps it was just his presence that made her feel stronger in the midst of the first break she’d gotten in decades. It took hardly any effort to restrain the beast to Hyrule Field, and she took great pleasure in decorating it with glowing targets for the hero to strike.

In a brilliant moment of intensity, Zelda could feel the world around her again. She could feel her body grow solid, the golden glow encasing her with a divine power her mortal vessel shouldn’t have been able to handle, and she faced the Calamity head on for a second time. With a strained cry, with the fury of a thousand lost souls, with the hunger for revenge for her friends, her father, her kingdom, her hero, the princess took her duty upon her shoulders and swallowed the darkness in the holy light of the Goddess. She willed her magic to carve into every crevice, tear it apart, cause it to feel the very pain it rained down upon Hyrule tenfold, but it would never be enough. The Beast was gone too soon. After a century of holding everything hostage, it was reduced to nothing. That was perhaps the worst part of it all. They would never be able to cause it the pain it had caused them, because it was not human. It was not a thing that could feel pain or regret. The only thing it knew was hatred, and for a moment, as Zelda collapsed to her knees and dug her fingers into the dirt, she worried if she was too similar.

She hated Calamity Ganon, hated all it had done and all it had taken from her, and she hated that she didn’t feel satisfied. She was angry, so incredibly angry, that it got to crawl back into its coffin until another ten thousand years had passed, but all of those lost to its claws could never return. She was angry that she couldn’t cause it the pain that it caused her, that it could take everything away from her and no amount of revenge could ease her pain.

She was shaking. She didn’t realize she was crying. But Link, ever the kind, patient, selfless man that he was, did not leave her stranded. His feet came into view, prompting her to lift her head and blink hard to clear her vision just enough to see him kneel before her. He extended his hands to her. They were trembling just as hard. Zelda slowly pulled her fingers free of the dirt, uncurling them just enough to hesitantly slip her hands into his.

Once upon a time, she couldn’t read his expression. A century later, on the battered ground of Hyrule Field, his eyes were misty and he looked like he would crumble at any point, but he looked relieved. She grasped his hands tighter, more desperate than before, and sobbed out a “thank you.”

His thumbs brushed against her, gentle as ever, and she had very little composure left. Her anger, her dissatisfaction in the truth that the Calamity would never truly die, dissipated like it had never been there at all. She found she didn’t care anymore, at least not in that moment, because she had something. She had hope, she had courage. She had Link, if he wanted her. It was an ache in her chest, nagging in her brain, and before she could think better of it, she whispered, “May I ask…do you really remember me?”

She didn’t want to know the answer. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, and she wasn’t sure she had another to give. But then he answered, quieter than the wind but as sure as the sky, “yes.”

He tugged her hands, pulled her forwards into an embrace, and she clutched the back of his tunic with eager fingers. She could cry again, but she realized with a start that he was the one sobbing instead. Zelda held him tighter, buried her face in his hair, whispered into the wind that she was here, that they were okay, that it was over.

And when they finally lifted their heads, when Link smiled at her, she had no trouble believing it.

#zelink #botw zelink #requests #song fic requests #loz #botw #I don't know what else to tag #it's an ending they deserved #thanks Nintendo but I'll take it from here

52 notes · View notes

phatphrog · 3 years

Text

Zuko would be a Gryffindor and no, you can’t change my mind.

helloooo tumblr. I’m back from my lil hiatus- for now ;) but most importantly, I offer you this as I crawl out of my cave:

so, brief intro. This is based off of my original comments on Pinterest (pictured above), but hopefully written to be a bit more coherent. That comment section had some intense debates, but it was fun seeing everyone’s takes, so I thought I’d bring it over here. I saw lot of people on the Zuko=Slytherin side but, as you can see, I have some strong opinions to the contrary. You guys don’t know this about me but I was obsessed with Harry Potter for a longgg time. I may not be as actively into it now, but once a Potterhead always a Potterhead. That being said- this is all for fun! Reblog/comment your thoughts. What do you think the characters houses would be- let me know :)

Mm yes delicious literary parallels- the stories and characters of Zuko and Sirius Black mirror each other in a lot of ways. That shared angst? Family trauma? Yessir. (And bonus points for being considered heartthrobs haha) If we’re translating Zuko’s story to the HP universe, him having a similar situation to Sirius would make total sense from a literary standpoint. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, Sirius Black is from a long prestigious line of pure bloods. (All wizard ancestry). His family is well off and highly respected, in *certain* circles. Most notably though, they’re all Slytherins. It’s a huge part of their identity- they pride themselves heavily on carrying on the tradition of both being a Slytherin and more or less being part of the bad guys. No one really can choose otherwise. Sirius however, gets sorted into Gryffindor, and allies with people that stand for the complete opposite of what his family believes in. He ends up fighting against his own family in order to help defeat Voldemort. Sirius is literally burned off of the family tree tapestry- he’s an outcast, a disgrace to his own family. Sound familiar? Zuko being sorted into Gryffindor while his whole family had always been Slytherins (Azula would 100% be top off her class in Slytherin), having to grow from their bigotry, struggling with his identity and being shunned from his family, and eventually joining the good guys? Yeah, that adds up. Take out the Hogwarts houses and that’s basically his story already.

Honor!!! Okay, this ones pretty short. Basically, Zuko’s actions mostly come from a place of wanting to do the right thing and honor. (Granted, what he did in Seasons 1-2 wasn’t the right thing, but he thought it was at the time). Just the idea of being obsessed with honor (again, the Fire Nations idea of honor is warped but let’s think of it as it’s neutral meaning here- think of chivalry, good reputation, respect, etc) of is more of a Gryffindor thing to me, and again, trying to do the right thing is very much a Gryffindor trait.

Determination aka one of the main Gryffindor traits. Bravery, determination, passion, all define a Gryffindor. Passion is pretty self explanatory, Zuko’s a passionate person, period. Bravery we’ll get to in the next bullet. You cannot tell me my man Zuko is not determined. Some argue that much of his actions were out of ambition, which I’ll get to later, but the way he goes about all of his tasks (capturing the avatar, joining the Gaang, getting Katara to forgive him) is very much Gryffindor. He simply does not give up. He keeps going forward, no matter what- no matter the difficulties, Zuko will keep going. He’s determined, always.

Brave, brash, and a not so small sprinkle of self-sacrifice In their constant efforts to do the right thing, Gryffindors often act recklessly, simply crashing forward in earnestness to do the right thing, to save the day, etc. This is very much Zuko. I love him, but let’s be honest, he can be a bit dumb at times. He’s very brash and can get caught up in the moment. He tends to just run ahead, often acting without thinking, except maybe about his end goal. Not to mention, he’s incredibly brave. I could use countless examples, but the first ones that come to the mind are the Agni Kai with Azula, and leaving to join the Gaang during the eclipse. Zuko literally throws himself in front of lightning for someone. Without a second thought, he sacrifices his own life for someone else. Now if that isn’t reckless Gryffindor bravery in its purest form, I don’t know what is. Zuko leaves behind his throne, his family, girlfriend, honor, home, everything, with the very real possibility of never returning, to join the Gaang. He leaves it all behind, to do the right thing. That is most definitely not a Slytherin move. Maybe he could act as a double agent, giving information to the Gaang while retaining his throne, if he was Slytherin, but that blind all or nothing sacrifice for the greater good is simply out of character for a Slytherin. Not to say they’re evil by any means, but they’re cunning. Your average Slytherin just wants to ensure their well being, and is clever about doing so.

Ambition & Cunning (or not really) One of the most popular arguments for Zuko being a Slytherin is that his quest to capture Aang, was done out of ambition. I would argue that yes, he was ambitious in pursuit of the Avatar, but ultimately his actions were not fueled out of self interest, but for acceptance from his father. He wants to be welcomed back home, he wants love and acceptance. Secondly, Zuko really isn’t that cunning. See all of the above points for more evidence, but he’s simply not. He thunders ahead without a second thought. He doesn’t achieve his goals through meticulous planning, or manipulation and deceitful actions, he just goes for it. Let’s look at Azula, who I think we can all agree is a Slytherin through and through. Many of her most valued traits by Ozai, what makes her so formidable, and what Zuko tries again and again to be more like, are in turn her most Slytherin-esque traits. Azula is the definition of cunning and calculated. She plans every step. She analyzes her enemies weaknesses, their strengths. She’s incredibly powerful, but she doesn’t go full force all the time, she’s meticulous in when and how to use that power. Try as he might, Zuko can never be like her. It just isn’t in his nature. He’s not calculating or manipulative, he’s painfully brash, passionate, and straight forward. Take season 2 episode 8, “The Chase.” While Aang is fighting with Azula and Zuko, he gets to the second story of a building via airbending that doesn’t have a floor. In pursuit of him, Azula almost falls through, but quickly realizes and deftly jumps off to the side. Shortly after, Zuko runs through with a determined yell, but doesn’t notice and crashes straight down. This, is the perfect example of them as characters and their dynamic. Azula, always on guard and calculating, Zuko, full steam ahead, all passion and bravery, no hesitation.

Not everyone’s a hero! A common misconception is that Slytherins are the bad guys while Gryffindors are the good guys. I’ve seen this argument as evidence for Zuko being a Slytherin- he wasn’t a hero for most of the story, so he can’t possibly be a Gryffindor. First of all, Zuko has never truly been evil. He’s constantly had the conflicting ideas of good and evil, i.e- Roku and Sozin, within in him; it just takes a long and difficult journey to become a hero. And again, his actions were fueled not by selfish intent, but by a need for acceptance, and that’s all he knew. By merely going through that incredibly painful journey of growth, he ultimately proves his bravery even more, and his determination. He went through all that hardship, but kept going, kept fighting, and came out a good person in the end. I want to stress this point though- not all Gryffindors are these dashing heroes, especially not straight away. Look at Colin Creevey or Neville Longbottom- both Gryffindors, and both untraditional heroes. Sure, they were never ‘evil’, but they did start off unassuming, anxious, and awkward. Many, including themselves, doubted their status as Gryffindors, but by the end of the series through their growth and hard work, ended up proving themselves as the heroes they always had been, even if they didn’t know it. Heroism comes in many different forms and from many different places.

I could probably go on, but I’m sure you get the idea. Let me know what you think! I’m very much team Zuko=Gryffindor obviously, but I’m not sure about the other characters. I’d love to hear everyone’s ideas or takes on my argument :)

#lets discuss #zuko is a gryffindor #it is what it is #fight me all you want #atla #atla headcanons #avatar the last airbender #zuko #prince zuko #atla au #atla harry potter au #zuko headcanon

89 notes · View notes

olivinesea · 3 years

Text

A Mixed Blessing

chapter one: never watered down

a/n: Big warning on this: child abuse, vomit, alcohol. Believe me, I don’t feel great about it. But needs must be. ~2.2k

He’d never been asked to pinpoint when it started but if pressed he’d probably identify one particular night in the house he grew up in. That house, never a home, was full of memories that could have tipped the scales, started him stumbling down the path he later found himself on. But, no, upon examination there was, without question, one night that started it all.

That night, like most nights, his dad had fallen asleep with an open bottle beside him. With a child’s lack of foresight, Aaron crept close and brought it to his lips recklessly. The liquid made him cough, lungs burning with the harsh fumes that curled up into his sinuses. Undeterred, he took a smaller sip. It tasted foul but he was driven by an unrelenting curiosity to know what it felt like. He had observed the difference in his father’s behavior from when he came home tense and bitter to the point where he was passed out in front of the TV, his face smoothed of any expression. A few more sips and it began to go down a little easier. Mr. Hotchner shifted in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Aaron slipped away and, without thinking about it, took the bottle with him.

Back in his room, he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tucked in the small space between bed and wall he was just out of sight of the door. The world swam around him as he reached the bottom of the bottle. His eyes felt heavy. The bottle tipped over and he laid on his side so he was parallel to it. He giggled as he rolled it back and forth, the last sip sliding along the inner curve. He tried to roll it fast enough for the liquid to meet itself in the chase. For once he felt warm and slow, so slow. His senses normally on high alert, he was like a rabbit twitching at every sound but right now everything felt loose and distant.

He rolled the bottle too hard and it slipped out of reach. He stretched out an arm but it was too heavy to move. Instead he just let his arm drop to the floor. His stomach rolled unpleasantly as he watched the bottle come to a stop under the bed. He curled around himself, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. To distract himself from the sudden nausea, he tried to go through his times tables. He had learned them a couple years ago in school but he always struggled to keep them straight. It had been the cause of more than one argument around the dining table. His father, who never had difficulty with numbers, insisted it was stupidity or, worse, laziness, on Aaron’s part that prevented him from being competent at math. He knew he should be able to do this, most kids in his class could recite these facts without a second thought. But for some reason, the numbers felt unmanageable, even at eleven years old. He knew there was something wrong with him, but there was so much wrong with him he wasn’t sure where his inability with math fell on the scale of his insufficiencies. It was impossible to understand how these things came so easily to others. It was the same sort of impossible as imagining himself as an adult, only a few years from now, less time than he’s been alive already. If time was to be believed, in seven years he would be eighteen and free.

He fell asleep somewhere in the six times table. He threw up on himself in the middle of the night, barely conscious as it happened. Unable to move as it made a mess down his shirt and pooled on the floor beneath his chin. He hadn’t eaten much so it was mostly a thin sort of bile at least. A small blessing.

Sometime before dawn rough fingers grabbed him around the back of the neck, dragging him from his hiding place. He had a hard time focusing his eyes but the anger was too familiar to miss. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, as his blood pulsed hotly through his dehydrated body. He couldn’t help the frightened tears that began to run down his cheeks. He was too disoriented to comprehend the insults, the curses being directed at him. His father shook him hard before throwing him down on the rough carpet. From here Aaron could see the worn cuffs of his father’s pants. He must have slept in his chair because he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

“You think you can steal from me?”

Those words came through clearly enough. Aaron started to panic as his dad pulled his shirt up, enough that his small back was exposed as he tried to crawl away. He couldn’t see anything, the fabric bunched around his head, arms trapped uselessly by his ears. His breathing quickened, causing the spot where he’d gotten sick on himself to draw close against his mouth and nose, setting off a wave of nausea. Aaron cried helplessly for his mother as his father let his anger out in lashes against his pale skin. He made himself as small as he could, the wet shirt getting caught in his mouth as he screamed. The taste made him retch but there was nothing in his stomach so he was left choking on coughs that seared through his chest.

He could never gauge how long the beatings lasted. Always longer than he had the energy to cry for. He grew still and quiet while his father continued to strike him. But the hits came slower, the pauses between each one lengthening as his breathing became labored. That kind of fury wan’t meant to be sustained. Once tired of the action, he aimed a final kick at his son and cursed as he walked away, belt hanging loose from his fist. In the doorway he yelled for his wife, who hadn’t been drawn to Aaron’s room despite his begging for her.

Aaron lay motionless, gasping, his body painfully stiff as he waited for his father to leave. As soon as the man was gone, he clawed at the shirt to pull it the rest of the way off and pushed himself backwards under the bed as far as he could get. Tears still ran down his face, though his emotions had settled into numbness, his body reacted automatically to the hurt. His foot bumped against the empty bottle, making it roll a little. He kicked it, a burst of anger tensing his muscles, and it spun away, crashing against the corner of the dresser. He froze at the sound of shattering glass, a whimper he couldn’t suppress escaping his mouth. He prayed the noise wouldn’t bring his father back. Shivering now, he buried his head in his arms, muffling any more sounds he couldn’t control and tried to hear the warning of returning footsteps.

He stayed there, tucked into the dusty darkness, listening to the sounds of the house: his father showering, his mother making breakfast. He didn’t attempt to move until he was sure his dad had gone for the day. He started to slide out but then an overwhelming fear that he would return suddenly immobilized him. He shrank back again. He was hungry, thirsty, he had to go to the bathroom but he was just too afraid to move. He remained there for a long time, forever it felt like, before he heard soft footsteps moving through the hallway. Logically he knew that it wasn’t his father but his hands shook with fear anyway.

His mother’s feet came into view, approaching the bed. She knelt down, dress tucked under her knees. “Aaron?”

He held his breath.

“Aaron, baby, come out.” She leaned down to look under the bed. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw him, half dressed, eyes wide and and circled by dark shadows. Her concerned expression shifted, a flicker of anger appeared but was gone in a flash, a match too easily blown out.

“Come on,” she held out a slender hand, palm up in supplication. He looked at it, unmoving. Where had she been when he was screaming for her? Hadn’t she heard? Why hadn’t she come looking sooner? Everything hurt, outside and in. His own anger burned through him, resentment driving him to action. He ignored her hand, instead pulling himself out on his elbows, putting as much space between them as possible. She remained on her knees as she looked at him. They were almost the same height positioned like this, his head slightly above hers in a preview of their future height difference. He wrapped his arms around his bruised and sticky chest, glaring at her. Upright, the blood drained away from his face, his balance became uneven and he swayed a little. She watched him adjust his feet, her hands useless in her lap after he’d ignored her offer. She was afraid to touch him.

She pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“You know I can’t help you. You have to be smarter than that.” Her voice was apologetic, though her words were not. All he could think about though was the way his throat felt raw from the sickness and the screaming and how she’d left him there alone for so long. She was the adult, she was supposed to take care of him. He was too wrapped up in his anger to see the grey bruises on her neck, to be aware of the contradiction between her long sleeves and the warm sunlight beginning to stream through the window. She sighed and rolled back onto her heels to stand up, picking up his dirty shirt.

“I’ll run you a bath, come on.”

He chewed his lip, watching her leave the room, wanting to disobey if only to make things difficult.

“You’re going to be late for school,” she called from the hallway.

He followed reluctantly, every movement sending fire racing across his back, every step unsteady. He hissed as he sank into the hot water but once he was submerged, it reminded him of the warmth the liquor had infused through him. The haze had softened the world with unconcern. He closed his eyes to remember the feeling better, only a few hours ago he had felt weightless. He wanted that back. With his eyes closed, he missed how his mother’s tears dripped into the bathwater, mixing seamlessly with the soap bubbles and steam.

He rested his cheek on his arms, folded on top of his pulled in knees. His mouth hung open slightly because he couldn’t breathe through his nose, still too congested from crying. He could almost fall asleep if it weren’t for the stinging pain that he couldn’t quite push away from his consciousness.

As the water swirled pink, his mother’s expression tightened while she brushed the washcloth against him as softly as she could. The cuts from the leather were shallow, not a serious injury, weaving across old scabs, older scars. There were fine pale lines alongside thicker ones, the pink shine of new skin. It made her want to scream, to run away but she knew that wasn’t fair to him. She couldn’t protect him from the man, she couldn’t protect either of them. But she could at least help him now. So she stifled her tears as best she could. Once his back was cleaned of dried blood, his chest freed of dirt and vomit, she pet his head softly. Her fingers brushed back the thick dark hair, the dampness causing it to curl slightly at the ends. It was too long again.

He looked at her with sleepy eyes, all his anger gone. He was just a little boy who wanted to be held by his mom, the only person he could remember ever touching him lovingly. Maybe not as much now, less and less as he got older, as his father’s disapproval of him grew. But he remembered, distantly, moments of safety in her arms. He wanted that so desperately right now.

“Can I stay home, Mama?”

She wanted to say yes so badly but that was how rumors started. She would do anything to avoid that suspicion, even if it meant rejecting her son. Someday he would understand, she reasoned.

“You’re not sick Aaron, you have to go to school,” she did her best to sound firm, businesslike.

Disappointed but unsurprised, he knew better than to argue or pout, just looked down at the dirty bathwater. She got his towel and dried him off as gently as possible. He whimpered a few times when the towel met particularly raw patches. Each pained little sound tore at her heart.

“Go get dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He felt sluggish as he pulled on his clothes—the loosest darkest shirt he could find. It wasn’t hard, none of his clothes fit. They were all bought several sizes too large in the expectation that he would grow but that had yet to happen. His mother promised him it would happen soon but he had a hard time believing her. He had a hard time believing he would survive long enough to see himself grown.

chapter two

#criminal minds #tw child abuse #tw vomit #tw alcohol #aaron hotchner #young hotch #a mixed blessing

23 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #10:

———————————

A/N: please reload if you saw this early! HAD TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES WITH THIS ONE. Smh! Some fluff after so much smut, but the next outtake is a MUST read.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

6 Months Into Dating - Aone Introducing Y/N To His Pet Turtle 💚🐢💚

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” Ordered your boyfriend kindly.

You quickly opened your eyes, immediately greeted with the most adorable sight in the world: your giant scary-looking mountain man holding a small shelled reptile in his both of his hands.

“Oh. My. God!” You yelled, hopping off Aone’s couch to run to him. Aone lowered his turtle so you could pet him and he watched your eyes fill with unmistakable adoration. You pet the reptile softly with your small index finger, and Aone noticed his turtle lean towards you automatically, just like he does whenever you touch him.

“He likes you.” Aone smirked.

You looked up at your boyfriend. “What’s his name! What’s his name! What’s his name!” You squealed, coming in close so that your nose was close to the turtles nose.

“Perdu.”

A/N: y’all know I speak French so search up what that means AHAHAHA

Also, if you haven’t had your daily dose of cute today google imagine search ‘aone turtle’ and see our baby!

I would have included a pic but not enough artist credit

You started jumping up and down out of excitement. “Ahhhhh! Hi Perdu!!!! I’m your new mama!”

Aone sucked in a breath at you calling yourself his pet turtle’s new mama. He always embarrassingly dreamed of having kids with you one day so it really hit him in the feels.

“He’s perfect. Can I hold him?”

Aone grunted and nodded.

“Can you show me how, Aone? I don’t want to hurt him.”

Aone gave you instructions and then placed the African Aquatic Sideneck Turtle in your hands. Takanobu stood there with his hands to his side like a lovesick idiot, watching you speak baby-talk to one of his best friends and just melting inside. He loved the fact that his love loved his other love. He was beaming.

“Hi Perdu! I am going to be taking care of you because daddy is going on a volleyball trip! But I promise you will have so much fun staying at my house!”

“I’m sure he will love staying with you, Y/N. He doesn’t like Kenji-san very much, bites him every time Futakuchi tries to pet him. You, he likes.”

Your eyes shone with pride as you cradled Perdu.

“Babe, he’s so cute!!!” You switched your expression to angry, glaring up at Aone. “Now Can I know why I’m just finding out about him now and why the hellyou hid him away in the basement when I came over?! 😡”

Embarrassed, Takanobu looked away. “Well.......”

You stared up at the white-haired beauty expectantly. “Welll.... what?”

“Well....... I um, I didn’t want you to think I was weird. For having a pet turtle.”

Your jaw dropped. “What! Excuse me?!”

Aone frowned, looking at the floor. “I apologize Y/N, Kenji even said that if you didn’t like Perdu then you may not be the one for me—but—I didn’t want to risk anything..... I didn’t want to risk you thinking I was odd and then not giving me a chance.”

Your face softened, hearing your boyfriend’s insecure thoughts.

☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

“Aone baby, come here.” You used one arm to cradle Perdu then used your other hand to lead your boyfriend to his living room couch so he could sit down. When he did, you sat in his lap, so that he was behind you, looking down at your son together.

“Aone, you make me so happy. I think of you some days and think that you’re too good to be true.”

Aone’s eyes widened over your shoulder. “Really??”

You nodded earnestly, going back to petting Peru softly on his head. “Can we talk? I think it’s time.” You said and Aone felt his heart drop. He knew what this conversation was going to be: and while he didn’t dread it per se, it was kind of embarrassing— and he just hoped you didn’t scare easily.

“Yes, we may talk, I’ll just put Perdu back in his tank for a bit.” You kissed your boyfriend’s cheek and got up to hand him your son. “Don’t forget to change his water tank, it’s been 2 hours!” You called as he made his way downstairs.

Aone stopped, turning back to look at you with admiration in his eyes. You remembered everything about Perdu already: it made him fall in love with you even more.

“Well done, Y/N. I will. I’ll be back in 10 minutes.”

10 Minutes Later - Aone Embarrassingly Telling You About The Things He Did When He Was Crushing On You :/

When you two were settled back on the couch, Aone sat far away from you as if you had cooties. Knowing that your bf was just uncomfortable with this convo, you did what you always did and crawled over to him, climbing into your favourite spot on his lap so you were sitting on him sideways like:

This position had a way of instantly calming him down as he loved having you so close. You saw him visibly relax. Good. You took a deep breath and turned his chin so that he was looking at you.

“Aone. I’ve always wondered—did I do something when we weren’t together? Like is there something I did that made you feel like you couldn’t just approach me, say hi?”

Aone blushed, then shook his head. “No, not particularly.”

You knew there was more he wanted to say he was just being shy. “Go on.......... I promise not to judge you. I’m here to stay.” You leaned in to kiss your boyfriend’s lips, knowing that he was terrified of you finding him creepy and deciding to leave. You had to reassure him that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Mountain believed you, and hearing your reassurance gave him the confidence he needed to begin:

“Y/N. I need you to somehow understand that you weren’t just some ‘crush’ to me. Not in the amateur sense like the way Katana is crushing on Futakuchi, or Koganegawa’s crush on Kusa. I mean yes, I was definitely crushing on you, but I realized early on that it was.....different. It was a bit more than that. It is like this: You were—are—my dream girl. Like, if I had never met you and someone asked me to describe my ideal woman, I would have described you......to a T. So, when I saw you for the first time at the pep rally, my mind went: thats her. That’s the perfect girl.”

You melted, listening intently and trying not to interrupt by jumping him. He continued.

“So, you kind of startled me. Because everyone always thinks their ‘dream person’ is just that....a dream.....right? They seem very unattainable. Very intimidating. Not to mention I am not one to approach a woman. And then add the fact that you’re one of the most popular females in our grade, plus you don’t notice me despite the fact that—according to Futakuchi and Koganegawa—I was painfully obvious in my pining—combining all of those factors, it was hard to just one day go up to you and ‘say hi.’” He stared at your thighs, beginning to draw random designs on them. “However, I wanted to. Every time I saw you I wanted to go over and introduce myself and ask you if I could walk you home but.......” he sighed. “I guess I was too cowardly.”

You went: 🥺🥺🥺🥺 grabbing Aone’s face and showering it with kisses, making his heart race.

“Oh, Aone, I wish you approached me baby. You were in pain—“

“Pain? Only at certain points. Actually, for the most part I was rather happy to be crushing on you. You made my everyday better. As soon as I began having feelings for you seeing you in the halls was like being presented with tickets to my favourite sporting event! I looked forward to class because you would be there, meaning I could hear more about you and see you smile. I’ll admit I stared at you quite a lot.....but it was because you were always smiling with your friends and that smile alone brightened my week, too.”

You heart clenched. “That’s so sweet Baby. But then when were those painful moments?”

Aone frowned, recalling the memories. “Uhhh......when you were seeing that baseball player.”

You scoffed. “Ew I was never seeing that fuckboy—“

“—And when you asked the teacher who on earth I was.”

“What?!” You gasped.

Aone peaked up at you, not wanting you to feel bad. “Please, don’t feel bad now, Y/N..... it’s not your fault my presence wasn’t really on your....”

“I did?! When ?!”

Aone sighed and shyly told you the story about how he had slowly packed his books so he could eavesdrop on you/his crush’s academic conversation. He explained how what happened when the teacher suggested him made him lovesick for a while.

“Ohhhh, my poor baby......” mortified, you put your head in your hands and shook your head. “I’m so stupid! I��m so sorry! please..... oh God and you were right behind me?! That is so unbelievably rude of me! What the hell did you see in me!” You we’re MORTIFIED.

Aone placed his hands around your wrists , gently prying your hands away from your beautiful face. He leaned in so that you were looking at him. “Y/N. my intention is to not make you feel bad about any of this. You didn’t know I was there, and you didn’t know who I was. I didn’t even try to get you to notice me, not really. If anything you asking who I was that day probably subconsciously pushed me to defend you against Tsume Lian weeks later. Everything happens for a reason.”

Still mortified, you nodded, looking down.

Aone was desperate to cheer you up because that frown of yours tugged on his heartstrings more than anything else in the world:

“When I was crushing on you, and you were a genie on Halloween, I was the one who donated 106,000 yen on behalf of our volleyball team.”

You snapped your head up, eyes wide and hit your boyfriend on his chest. “YOU DID WHAT!”

He rewarded you with a chuckle. “I’m so embarrassed right now. I’m sorry. I just wanted you and the team......but mostly you.......not to struggle.”

“Aone Takanobu! You mean to tell me that you were a perfect boyfriend to me before you were even my boyfriend?!”

Aone shrugged, kissing your cheek and turning red. He’s glad that his embarrassing admission made that frown leave your face. Worth it. “Futakuchi seemed to think so. And while we are admitting things..... and Koganegawa already exposed your birthday plans...... I also feel inclined to tell you that your Halloween costume last year made me weak.”

You pouted out of sheer adoration for your boyfriend! “What! Really?! The genie thing?! You liked it?”

Aone nodded, feeling himself get a semi just by remembrance. “We had a math test that day and I almost failed for the first time. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I’m sorry please don’t think I am one of those perverted boys. I just couldn’t help it.......”

Feeling aroused by the idea of you arousing your boyfriend in class, you moved to straddle him and gave him a deep kiss. Aone moaned into the kiss and pulled you closer, internally joyous that you weren’t running away after all he’d admitted to you.

You both pulled away at the same time, trying to catch your breath. You leaned your forehead on his.

“Aone, I think it’s adorable that you liked me for so long. I’m kinda kicking myself because if I wasn’t so lost and just noticed you, we would’ve been together way longer now.”

“No! Please don’t feel bad.” He begged, “Time with you since that day with Tsume has been the best part of my entire life. It may come off as pathetic, but.......when you spend time with me—no, when you simply smile at me not anyone else.....it makes up for the years I spent hopelessly pining and dreaming about you.”

You smiked, deciding to tease your boy because a word he’d said spiked your interest. “Dreaming about me....huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

Aone flushed—he really walked into that one—then shook his head firmly. “Yes. But before you ask any more questions: the answer is absolutely not. I am not telling you about my wet dreams about you, Y/—“

You eyes widened. 👀 “WAIT, WET dreams?!?!?! As in the things I did in your dream made you cum in real life?!?!”

Because he hadn’t realized what he said, Aone stopped breathing. He stood up abruptly with you in his arms, leaning down to place you on the couch. Looking anywhere but at you, Takanobu tried to come up with a reason to escape. He looked so fucking cute so-crippling shy you were going to combust!

“I m-must take Perdu out f-for a walk, now.” He said awkwardly, clearly making something up to get himself out of that one.

Your eyes twinkled. “Aone baby, I think it’s cute......”

Aone looked at you in horny disbelief. “.....Hm..... y-y-y-you do?”

You smiled, taking his hand. “Sure. I just want to know what you dreamed about so I can make the real-thing that much better......” you said seductively, leaning in to ghost a kiss over his pants where his dick is. “I’d love to act out one of your dream sequences right now, before I go....” you bit you lip while batting your eyelashes at him.

Aone bit back a moan, immediately growing hard. He wanted to tell you that real-you always felt better, but he couldn’t think straight. “Yes. Yes, If y-you’d li-like....... 😩 I’m powerless to resist you.”

You stood up happily, still holding Aone’s hand, and lead him back to his bedroom. “Look on the bright side babe,” you squeezed his hand. “When Perdu grows up you can have a father son chat with him when you tell him from experience that dreams really do come true.”

While Aone was relieved because the conversation he’d been so scared to have ended up being taken light heartedly and fun, he’d soon come to regret having it at all.

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly

A/N: hold onto your seats folks. Last outtake post next! ....and you’re going to want to read it.

Outtake #11: CLICK HERE

#aone takanobu x you #aone x you #aone smut #aone fluff #aone x y/n #aone x reader #aone takanobu stories #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu boys #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanon #hq headcannons #sexy hq boys #haikyuu stories

160 notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

Haven - Chapter 6.

First Steps

Summary: The Black Hammer’s infamous mettle is put to the test when he finds himself approached by a sleepy, human youngling. You get your hands looked at and learn a little bit more about your massive guardians in the process.

---------

As soon as the minuscule woman sitting in front of him finally succumbs to the persistent lull of sleep, Ulthane nearly lets slip a powerful sigh, only just managing to snap his lips shut in time to catch it.

The giant is not about to utter any sound that might risk waking you up again, not when you're so clearly in desperate need of a long, uninterrupted rest.

Balancing an elbow on each knee, the maker slumps forwards and scrubs tiredly at his face with a thick, calloused hand which he drags down just enough to peer at you over his fingers.

For perhaps longer than he ought to, Ulthane meticulously studies the side of your face that isn't pressed up against the tree bark, unaware that his own features are becoming softer and softer with each passing second.

Although you're sitting right in front of him and he's even held you, touched you and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're real and here, he still can't quite believe that he'd managed to save both you and the children. Admittedly, he's reluctant to stand and leave, and he tells himself that a few more minutes of keeping watch is just a sensible idea, certainly not paranoia setting in. 'Besides,' he thinks, scanning the room and taking note of both the awkward angle at which you've lain yourself against the wall and the broken 'glasses' that sit at the end of Archie's bed. 'There're some things I need to take care of...'

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

Slowly, the sconces flickering on the walls burn lower and lower, dripping wax onto the wooden ground until at last, the maker decides your sleep is deep enough that he could move you to a bedroll without waking you up. Glaciers would have moved faster than Ulthane in that moment as he rises to his feet, wincing at every creak of his leather tunic and the clanking, metal belt fastened around his waist. Soon enough though, he's upright once again and he bends down, inching his fingers closer to you until he's able to slide them gently around your back, fingertips brushing over delicate vertebrae and his heart begins to hammer when you scrunch up your face and emit a small moan. For several beats, the maker remains frozen in place until you settle down again.

Breathing a gentle sigh that ruffles your hair, Ulthane carefully works his fingers around and underneath you, having to wiggle them so that your legs sit comfortably across his palm, allowing the maker to press his thumb to your front and pull you up against his chest.

With cautious steps – which would have been cause for amusement had anyone been there as a witness – Ulthane carries you over to the spare bedroll and lays you down upon it, mindful of your head the whole way. Once again, he retracts his hand with an almost painful slowness but the moment his fingers slip out from underneath you, he's startled when you unexpectedly roll towards him in your sleep and fling an arm out, draping it loosely around his forefinger.

The maker's breath catches like a hook in his throat.

Fragile lips part slightly and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, your features relaxing until the lines in your forehead begin to diminish.

Ulthane swallows, captivated by the sight. He'll just have to stay where he is then....

Fine. No problem. Clearly you're subconsciously seeking comfort wherever you can find it, and who is he to deny you that?

The maker is more than ready to crouch here all night if he has to. But then... he considers what a shock it might be for a fetching, young human like you to wake up with a scruffy giant looming over them. Suddenly, staying doesn't seem like the most prudent of ideas.

“Sorry, lass,” he breathes, giving his finger a careful tug until it slides out from under your arm. For a second or two, your lips twitch down at the loss of warm contact, but soon after, you fall still on the bedroll, your breathing slow and even, which is more of a reassurance to the maker than you could possibly know. It's a simple facet of biology he never realised could be a comfort to him after seeing so many humans whose chests were motionless, as if they'd been turned to stone.

Ulthane indulges himself in another few seconds of watching your ribs expand and contract before he pushes himself to his feet again and treads back over to the entrance, bypassing Archie's bunk along the way.

Tree bark scrapes noisily against the maker's braid as he hunkers down against the wall, opening his palm up and squinting curiously down at the fragile spectacles now laying within it. Shifting his weight slightly to one side, he flips the lid of a pouch on his belt and digs around in it for a moment until he pulls out a handful of small tools, those typically saved for his more delicate work.

Settling back against the tree bark, Ulthane readies himself for a long and hopefully peaceful vigil.

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

There wasn't any particular reason why Lucia jerked awake in the middle of the night. Only one thing is for sure though, she tells herself adamantly as she clutches at the front of her thin, cotton shirt and gulps down a lungful of air – Waking up has absolutely nothing to do with a nightmare. Definitely not at her age. She's seven, after all. Far too old to be afraid of such babyish things as bad dreams, even those that are filled with gnashing jaws and grey, lifeless eyes, or of hulking monsters who have four arms that raise high above her, just moments away from squashing her flat against the ground below....

Groggily, Lucia twists her head around to see her classmate, Kitty, is still sleeping soundly on the bed next to her.

Kitty has always been a heavy sleeper, and she doesn't even stir as Lucia shuffles tiredly to the ladder at the end of their bunkbed and slides her bare feet onto the first, wooden rung. The girl's descent is painfully slow and she can barely keep her eyes open to see where she needs to place her hands, yet somehow, she manages to make it down to the ground in one piece.

The young girl blearily peers towards the enormous doorway where you and the giant were sitting last night after she and her classmates had climbed into their respective beds. Glassy, sleep-deprived eyes seek out your familiar shape, yet they fail to find you in the spot they expected you to be, an outcome that causes Lucia's throat to tighten. Not a moment later however, she catches sight of Ulthane and her chest hitches apprehensively.

The giant of a man is still sitting propped up against the tree wall with his piercing, blue eyes fixed in her direction, hard and unflinching as stone. It's an unnerving thing to be held underneath that gaze, and yet, as abrupt as Ulthane's appearance is, Lucia doesn't retreat back up into the bunk bed. Rather, she blinks slowly up at him and rubs one of her eyelids with a closed fist. She's tired and she's hungry and she wants nothing more than to see her mother again, to fall into a pair of warm, comforting arms and be reassured that this is all just an unusually long dream. Nevertheless, with a distinct lack of any other viable grownup in the vicinity, the girl's sleep-addled brain seeks out the next nearest source of safety and protection.

Ulthane stiffens and his jaw grows tight when the human youngling begins a slow march across the tree towards him, dragging her feet the whole way.

As she stumbles past Archie's bed, Lucia doesn't even seem to notice that her classmate's glasses are no longer discarded at the foot of it, but instead lay just beside his head, looking polished and brand new without a single crack marring the lenses. Why would she notice, after all, when her sights are set on the mountain of a man sitting in the entrance, his blue gaze tracking her vigilantly across the tree? Perhaps if she'd been even slightly more awake, her stomach might have churned at the thought of venturing closer to something so formidably colossal.

The tiny girl comes to a stop in the space between Ulthane's boots and she tips her heavy head back to peer up at him whilst he, in turn, stares down at her, the bushy eyebrows sitting on his forehead slowly raising with every second that ticks by.

Not for the first time, the Old one is completely lost for what to do.

He'd been prepared for the human younglings to avoid him altogether, not for one to approach him, alone, in the dead of night and without her guardian present.

Swallowing thickly, the maker flicks his eyes up to seek you out on the other side of the room and he momentarily considers making a loud noise or clearing his throat, something that might jar you awake so you can intercept the exhausted child currently yawning up at him. He's quick to scrap that idea, however, sharply reminding himself that he's a maker, for the love of Stone, and the Black Hammer to boot. He's faced down scores of undead, battled against invading, demonic armies! His hands have shaped cities and crafted weapons capable of cataclysmic destruction! He – Ulthane Black Hammer – has no reason to be so tense in the presence of -! 'Oh, maker's beard, she's trying to climb me.'

Apparently, following any lack of a rejection from the giant she'd so boldly approached, Lucia's childish mind has reasoned that it's safe to proceed. So, without a word, she ventures right up to the enormous chain dangling from his equally large, leather belt and, before he has the time to flinch at the prospect of a child getting so close, she reaches up and slips her hands around one of the chain loops and begins hauling herself up into the giant's lap.

The angle at which Ulthane is propped up against the tree works to Lucia's advantage and her hands and feet find easy purchase on the maker's intricately adorned apron, allowing her to crawl onto his stomach without much difficulty, proceeding onwards until she comes to a halt directly over his thundering heart.

Any breath that had once occupied Ulthane's lungs no longer exists as he wheezes it out, all pretence of bravado fleeing him whilst the little human makes herself comfortable upon his chest. Hands like fragile glass twist into his blue, striped cowl and tug it close, seeking comfort in the soft fabric and then, after parting her jaw around yet another yawn, Lucia plops herself down on her belly, head turned to the side so that Ulthane can see her eyes flutter closed.

Every rise and fall of the maker's chest seems far too violent a motion, prompting him to try to keep his breathing as shallow as possible, even though his lungs begin to burn with the effort and his throat bobs as he swallows a thick lump, tilting his chin to peer down his nose at the child.

All right.... All right, he can do this. He can be gentle. After all, he's been gentle with younglings before. Although come to think of it, maker younglings are far, far sturdier than humans. One glance at the girl's twig-thin arms and he clenches his jaw, his immeasurable nerve actually beginning to waver.

It's laughable really. The mighty Black Hammer's famous courage shaken by a tiny, little girl.

If his brother could see him now, he'd be bent double, howling with laughter.

Then again...

Ulthane's shoulders lose some of their tension and with the speed of a melting icicle, his forefinger creeps steadily towards the human.

….Thane has never had something so fragile laying beneath his palms. Thane has never had the terrifying responsibility of holding a body so breakable that just breathing in its direction seems like too much of a risk.

The pad of Ulthane's finger finally touches the child's spine, feather-light and hesitant to the point that he can barely feel her individual vertebrae beneath his toughened skin.

Maker's beard... She barely even covers the length of his palm... He holds his breath when she lets out a soft noise and shifts, curling her legs up tight against her stomach and pushing the curve of her spine a little more noticeably into Ulthane's touch, causing his heart to lurch in response. There's a tenderness to his frown as he hesitantly sweeps the pad of his forefinger down her flimsy shirt and finds himself momentarily exasperated that humans don't bother wearing any kind of armour. They aren't exactly fast enough to outrun their enemies. Nor are they especially strong. Their bones can shatter after a short fall and a single fracture in their spinal column could render them completely incapable of movement. Why, all it would take is a single slip of his finger and....

Shuddering, Ulthane withdraws his hand and lays it on his stomach, just below the girl's feet. In the museum, carrying the humans had been different. He hadn't exactly had much of a choice. Now though, with enough time to stop and think about all the ways a being of his size could unwittingly damage them, Ulthane is far more hesitant and his mind begins to race because suddenly, he has to be so, unfalteringly aware of himself, uncomfortably so.

In direct contrast to the maker's frenetic brain, Lucia isn't really thinking much about anything. All she knows is that she feels a lot safer now than she had in the bunkbed. No nightmare would dare to touch her here, not with the giant keeping watch. With this in mind, the girl lets out a last, lingering yawn before she buries her face in the blue fabric clutched between her fingers and finally drops back off to sleep.

Ulthane is so busy wondering what your reaction will be if you awaken to catch him like this that he doesn't even notice Lucia has fallen asleep on him until he sees her hands go slack around his cowl and her back starts to rise and fall at a much slower pace.

For countless hours – or perhaps it was only mere minutes – the maker watches his charge as she sleeps, every now and then casting his watchful eye over the rest of the group.

Lucia doesn't stir again, not even when Ulthane eventually plucks up the nerve to relax, leaning a little further back into the wood behind him. Not even when, a few minutes later, he curls one of his vast hands over her back whilst she continues to sleep, being beyond careful not to put any weight on her.

All of a sudden, just as he lets his head drop to rest against the bark, it hits him that this girl – this impossibly small, innocent human child might just have wordlessly admitted that she trusts him, and he very nearly shoots upright once more at the revelation.

Outside the tree, the first of Earth's birds begin to sing, hailing the sun as it brightens the eastern sky and while Ulthane's ear twitches at the sound, he doesn't tear his eyes from the girl curled up on his broad chest. Slowly, the maker's forehead wrinkles into a frown.

He doesn't deserve her trust. He doesn't deserve the trust of any human, not least that of those he's taken into his care. If they knew... If they ever found out about what he's done, who he's conspired with, then he would have that tenuous trust ripped away from him and replaced with cold, angry hatred. 'And that,' he tells himself with a solemn sort of acceptance, 'is something I do deserve.'

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

It's with a grim and despondent weariness that your head eventually raises from the soft surface it lays upon. Unlike last night, awareness comes back to you in a rush, slapping you harshly across the face with the memory of where you are and what has happened to the world around you. The temptation to simply let your head fall back against the pillow is almost overpowering.

Almost.

Pressing your eyelids together, you take a moment to brace yourself before stretching your arms up over your head, jaw parting into a yawn.

Warm firelight greets you when you blink into the room, disoriented for a few seconds as you realise you're no longer sitting in the tree's entrance with a maker in front of you. In fact, it abruptly occurs to you that you're now laying down, a fact that causes you to give a start, struggling up onto trembling arms and pushing your face up off a scratchy, green pillow.

Glancing around, you deduce that at some point during the night, you must have been moved to the bedroll Ulthane had mentioned. Of course, you're fairly certain you haven't suddenly begun to sleepwalk, so you imagine that the culprit is none other than the maker himself. Blearily, you rove your gaze across the chamber towards the hollow that leads out into the main trunk. It doesn't take you long to spot him, and when you do, your heart leaps into your throat for a second before you manage to swallow it back down.

Ulthane is leant up against the wooden wall just inside the hollow with a restful smile on his face, but what draws your focus are his hands that are cupped gently over a familiar child. The unruly pair of jet-black buns poking out over the top of his thumb are unmistakably Lucia's.

Suddenly much more awake, you throw the ratty blanket off your legs and clamber upright.

In a flash, Ulthane's head jerks up and he feels his hackles raise, only relaxing once he realises it's just you shuffling over to him, the heel of your palm scrubbing at eyes still thick with sleep.

“Mornin',” he rumbles quietly, raking his gaze from your head to your feet.

A little self-conscious under his probing stare, you throw out an automatic reply of, “Good morning,” before drawing to a halt just beyond his boots, wringing your hands together and shooting anxious glances between him and your student. The maker must have been able to guess what you can't quite find the courage to voice because his ears droop and a crestfallen line appears between his eyebrows.

Guilt slugs you hard in the chest when you pick up on his hurt expression, so you force yourself to pry your hands apart and send him a tired, albeit hesitant smile, whispering, “What happened?”

It's a relief to see the maker's face soften at your question.

With a grin that's borderline sheepish, Ulthane removes one of his gargantuan hands to reveal Lucia curled up underneath it on his sternum, her comparatively miniscule fingers twisted into the fabric of his soft, blue cowl. The loss of her makeshift blanket causes the youngster to frown lightly and utter a sound of protest before she settles down again. You can't help but sag with noticeable relief upon seeing that she's unharmed and apparently very comfortable on her newfound bed.

Huffing out a soft laugh, Ulthane admits, “Think this littl'un might've had a bad dream... She rolled out of bed a couple o' hours ago and... Well.” He tips his bearded chin indicatively at the girl.

Sparing her an exasperated look, you shake your head and sigh, “Sorry about that, Ulthane. You should've woken me up so I could take her back to bed.”

The maker's shoulders move as if they're about to lift into a shrug, but he thinks better of it when Lucia emits another, quiet whine and buries her face into his scarf.

Flicking his eyes from the girl up to you again, he instead murmurs, “Didn't want to disturb you. You looked like you needed the rest.” His broad mouth tilts up in one corner and he drops his gaze to Lucia, eyes crinkling fondly at their edges. “'Sides, she weren't exactly any trouble.” He decides to leave out the part where she'd clambered into his lap and almost gave him a heart attack.

“Huh...” you muse thoughtfully, sparing the maker an appraising look, “Guess she must trust you after all.”

Ulthane's smile falters for a second and his ears seem to wilt, you assume due to disbelief. You have no idea that your words only twist at the barbed-wire coiled around his heart as he's once again reminded that he's just one confession away from being a monster in all of your eyes.

Be it from the rumble of his chest underneath her ear or the tug of his cowl as the giant lifts his head to look at you, but Lucia abruptly shifts, stretching her legs out and pushing sleepily on his sternum to raise her torso from the unconventional bed.

There's something considerably amusing about a nine tonne giant bristling with apprehension as a child no larger than his finger lifts her head and blinks tiredly up at his looming face. You can hardly fault her when she lets out a yelp and lurches backwards onto her knees, startled by the enormous man peering back down at her. However, in doing so, she begins to topple over at the awkward angle and would have fallen down the length of Ulthane's chest had he not flipped his hand over with surprising speed to catch her in his palm. She lands against him with a soft yelp and scrabbles at his calloused skin for a moment, trying to take stock of her situation.

“Sorry there, lass,” the maker chuckles, though his nostrils are flared, betraying his prior alarm, “S'pose I'm not what you were expectin' to see first thing in the mornin', eh?”

After taking a couple of large, gulping breaths, some colour begins to return to the girl's cheeks and her eyes land on Ulthane's hesitant grin.

Instantly, her face lights up with recognition.

“Heracles?” she croaks, scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

The maker's tusks flash in the dim light as he huffs out a warm laugh.

“It's Ulthane, Lucia,” you remind her gently and the girl mumbles a quick, 'oh yeah,' in response, stretching her arms up and yawning widely.

“Miss?” a croaking voice pipes up from the bunk beds behind you. Turning about, you see Archie - roused by the commotion - tugging his legs out of the blanket and swinging them over the edge of the bed, his bare feet hardly brushing the wooden floor, he's so small. He's staring over at your group, mellow eyes wide behind his glasses.

With your brain still partially addled by sleep, it takes you a few seconds to recognise the change.

“Archie!” you blurt out louder than you'd intended to, pulling several other groggy children from their slumber, “Your glasses!”

As the boy peers over at you, you're startled to notice that there's an unmistakable lack of any break or crack in the lenses of his spectacles, a fact that seems to have shocked him as much as it shocks you. For a second, you wonder if you'd merely imagined that they were broken. You were, after all, almost falling asleep on your feet yesterday.

But then, Archie presses a few fingers daintily to the frames around his eyes and says in a small voice, “They were broken last night...”

Keeping his attention focused stubbornly on Lucia, Ulthane leans forward and deposits her on the ground next to you with the level of care and concentration one might use to set down a crystalline figurine. His slow, deliberate movements catch your attention and you tear your eyes off Archie to shoot the maker a thoughtful hum, brows slowly knitting together across your forehead when he fails to meet your gaze and instead fiddles absentmindedly with the golden buckle on his belt. Suspicious, you're about to ask him if he knows anything about the impossible circumstances of Archie's glasses when Lucia promptly reaches up and snags the sleeve of your jumper, giving it a tug and declaring that she's hungry.

Ulthane must have been relieved at the distraction because moments later, he plants his boots on the ground and heaves himself to his feet. “Hungry? Well, we can't be havin' that, now can we?” he barks, bunching up his shoulders until there's a loud and satisfying 'crack!' that causes you to wince.

Seeing the maker at his proper height sends Archie stumbling backwards until his calves hit the bunkbed's wooden frame and the resulting thud pulls Kitty's head unwillingly from her pillow.

“Ungh, dad?” the girl moans, rubbing the dust from her eyes and looking out over the edge of the bunk bed, only to let out a strangled gasp at the sight of the bearded giant looming over you.

“It's all right!” you hurriedly say as Sam and Ashleigh also flick their nervous gazes between you and the maker, “It's just Ulthane, remember? He helped us yesterday.”

The initial confusion that always follows sleep begins to dissipate, recognition instead taking its place, at least on the faces of Ashleigh and Sam. Kitty, in the meantime, adopts a scowl and stubbornly remains in her bed, even as all the other children hesitantly start to venture closer to the giant.

“Miss,” Lucia complains, pulling at your sleeve again, “I'm still hungry.”

It's a surreal thing, you ponder quietly to yourself, that the end of the world has come to pass, and yet here you are, worrying about what the children are going to eat for breakfast.

For a few, selfish seconds, you're struck by just how unfair it all seems.

'What about what I want?' You scowl down at your shoes. 'Maybe I don't want to get up and eat and tell them that everything's gonna be okay when I know that it isn't! Maybe – maybe I'd like a few, goddamn minutes to grieve! Instead of putting on a stupid smile and a brave face and... and-...'

Small, weedy fingers slip into your other hand and just like that, the agitation is sapped from you.

You know without even having to look that Archie is standing by your side with his watery, blue gaze fixed nervously on the side of your face, seeking instruction and reassurance in a world that no longer has any rules. Exhaling softly, you deflate and lift your eyes to find Ulthane watching you closely from the entrance. When he catches your gaze, you think you see his lips twitch, like he's trying to give you a smile but his heart isn't quite in it.

Eyebrows pinched, ears drooping - He looks... sad, you realise.

The expression is fleeting however, and it vanishes the moment you blink.

Dragging your eyes off the maker, you look down at Lucia and Archie and force a smile onto your face. “Okay, let's go. Kitty, come on, we're going to eat now!-” Turning, you beckon for the last child to follow, yet all she does is cross her arms and glare down at you, bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“I want my dad,” she suddenly declares, and it takes a lot of effort on your part not to sigh. Gathering yourself, you school your expression out of the grimace it's collapsed into and reply, “I'm afraid he's... he's not here, kiddo.”

“What about my mummy and papá?” This question comes from Lucia, but when you open your mouth to respond to her, you find yourself interrupted by yet another question from Ashleigh, spoken far more softly than the others. “Do our parents even know where we are?”

The rooms falls silent again and a sort of hopelessness snatches the air from your lungs, leaving you feeling trapped and utterly, wholly useless. What are you supposed to tell these children? That the chances of finding any of their parents alive is astronomically small? That their mothers and fathers are, more likely than not, dead? Torn apart by demons? That they may never see their families again?

You wonder what the maker would do, if he were in your stead. You're dying to ask him, but a quick glance at his stoic face reveals no insight. Perhaps you'd be disappointed to know that Ulthane is silently referring to your judgement, unwilling to offer an answer to the difficult question simply because he, like you, hasn't the first idea of what the 'correct' response is. Should the children know the truth when they're still so young and unequipped to deal with the sort of tragedy truth inflicts? Or should they be protected from it, given hope that the following days are worth waiting for?

Shit... He wants to take the decision out of your hands when he catches a scent of the frustration and terror that pours out of you. The silence has begun to stretch out for so long, he wracks his brains for something to fill it. Luckily for him, you take a deep breath, letting the air fill you up entirely until your lungs start to hurt and you can't fit any more in. Then, after a beat, you exhale it all roughly and clap your hands, cheerfully saying, “Look. Why don't you guys come and have some breakfast and let me sort out finding your parents, okay? I'm... sure if Ulthane and I put our heads together, we can work out a way to let them know where you are.”

Thankfully, your words take immediate effect, perking the children up a bit and putting a relieved smile on most of their faces, though you do notice that Archie, by contrast, has his head tipped towards the ground and his hand tightens around yours. Without seeing the look of panic that flashes through his eyes however, you assume he's put at ease, like the others. A plan of action – even one that's been made up on the spot - is just what they all need hear right now.

A quick glance up at the maker reveals that he isn't nearly as optimistic about your plan as the kids seem to be. However, when they turn to stare questioningly up at him, the giant's face takes on a self-assured grin, one far more authentic than you imagine yours to be.

“Aye, don't you worry littl'uns. Old Ulthane and your teacher'll suss it out.” When he turns away to face the hollow, you catch a brief glimpse of his smile as it falls to something dour, yet his voice retains its chipper tone. “C'mon then, best get some food in you, eh?”

You decide to ask Kitty one more time if she'll come down from her bunk, but again, the young girl just shakes her head and casts a mistrustful glare at the back of Ulthane's head. In the end, you just shrug and concede.

“Okay,” you tell her, starting after the giant, “I'll bring you something to eat in a bit.”

She doesn't reply.

The rest of the children are quiet as they huddle at your back and follow you tentatively out of the sleeping area, lead by an ever-watchful maker, who continues to cast backwards glances over his burly shoulder at you and the kids, as if he thinks you could disappear without any warning if he so much as takes his eyes off you.

Archie's hand remains firmly clamped around yours all the way across the wooden bridge and down into the tree's vast inner chamber.

Once you spill out onto flat, solid ground again, you allow your eyes to wander up to the top of the trunk, where a large crack has split right across the toughened wood, through which shafts of sunlight drift lazily down into the room and dapple the floor with patches of warmth.

Dimly, you realise it must be late morning.

Through the hole in the makeshift ceiling, you can distinctly hear the sound of leaves hissing and whispering like voices in the wind. But above that, you can make out something else. Whistling. High and pretty and tuneful.

“Birds...” you whisper, sporting an incredulous little smile, unaware of Ulthane's gaze drinking in the sunlight that glints off your hair.

What had once seemed such a mundane occurrence nearly reduces you to tears on the spot.

The birds are still here, chirping away amongst the colossal branches high above you. They survived. Just like you and the children have survived.

Deep in the depths of your heart, deeper than the blood and the cells, a tiny ember of hope flickers to life.

'Maybe,' you tell yourself, 'the world isn't as dead as it seems.'

Meanwhile, behind you, the children are busy making their own discoveries.

Lucia's bottomless supply of curiosity must have won out over her trepidation, for she's the first to venture away from the safety of your leg and take several, tentative steps out into the room, her eyes roving to and fro until they're little more than a blur.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls your attention away from the ceiling and you jerk backwards as a large, wooden crate is promptly dropped at your side by an eager Elanya.

“Mornin' humans!” she calls down to you, startling the children and earning a subtle growl from Ulthane which she expertly ignores, “Got you some good eats in 'ere!”

With a hand held over your racing heart, you give the young maker a tight-lipped smile and reply, “Good morning to you too. Kids, this kind lady has brought us something to eat, what do we say?”

Ulthane's eyebrows raise in amusement when there's a shy, stuttered chorus of 'thank you's' from the children. Elanya meanwhile, is positively beaming.

“Ha! 'Lady,” she echoes, flicking one of her blonde plaits over a shoulder and bending down to the crate, taking the lid between her hands before pausing to glance up at you. “Don't think flattery will make me forget what we're doin' later, missus,” she warns playfully, keeping her eyes locked on your hands even as she gives the crate's lid a single yank, tearing it free of the nails keeping it in place. Admittedly, you have to admire her persistence.

“My hands are fine,” you tell her as she tosses the lid aside and dusts off her gloves, “They stopped bleeding last night.”

Unconvinced, the maker cocks her hip and squints down at you. “Doesn't mean they won't still need seein' to.”

“S'probably for the best, lass,” Ulthane mutters to you, wincing at the look of betrayal you toss him, “Can't have you hurtin' if we can do somethin' about it.”

“Well, what about your arm?” The maker narrows his eyes but you don't falter, refusing to be the sole person on the receiving end of Elanya's doting. “You said you'd let her look at it if I let her see my hands.”

Quick as a flash, Elanya's amber eyes dart from you to her fellow maker. “Arm? What happened to your arm?” she barks.

“Oh. I – er -”

Try as he might to twist himself sideways and hide his injury, the youngling's sharp gaze finds its target and she lets a hiss slip out of her mouth. “Maker's beard! That's a doozie!”

There's something highly entertaining in the way Ulthane shrinks back as she marches over to him and grabs his arm, but as much as you'd like to continue watching him utter halfhearted complaints and try to escape her grasp, you decide to use the distraction to address the hungry children behind you.

Every mouth is watering like broken faucets at the sight of a crate full of food, yet none of them have made a move towards it, instead dragging their hopeful gazes back and forth between you and the wooden box. You have to admit, you're impressed with their self-restraint.

All of a sudden, before you can open your mouth to tell them to go ahead and dig in, a hulking shadow falls across the tree's entrance and when you lift your gaze towards it, you see the third maker trudging heavily inside.

As soon as he spots the children staring back at him through wide, frightened eyes, Yarin stops dead in his tracks, every muscle in his massive body turning rigid.

“Er...” Perplexed, he roves his eyes up to you and blinks, surprised to see you standing behind the younglings for a change, not in front of them.

In the span of seconds, the air inside the tree grows thick with disquiet and you're convinced that at least some of the kids are about to turn tail and dive behind you in search of protection.

It's Elanya's voice that ends up cutting through the uneasy tension.

“Yarin!” she exclaims, gesturing towards the children, “Just in time'! Mind keepin' an eye on the bairns while I see to these accident-prone ninnies?”

No sooner does the suggestion leave her lips than your heart drops down into your shoes faster than a stone sinks in a puddle and you begin moving towards the kids, noting that some of their faces have gone pale.

“Uh, I – I don't think-” you start, only to be cut off by a heavy but gentle hand falling upon your shoulder, almost throwing you off balance despite the care with which it's placed there. Glancing backwards, you find yourself peering up the length of Ulthane's muscular arm and meeting his powder-blue eyes.

Sensing your obvious hesitance, the maker offers you his trademark grin. “They'll be okay, bonnie,” he rumbles quietly, “Yarin'd sooner pull his own teeth out than let anythin' happen to those littl'uns.”

Biting your lip, you swivel your head around to look at the strange maker again. Ulthane you've started to trust and Elanya is slowly but surely endearing herself to you. Yarin, however, is a complete unknown. You've hardly heard him say two words and so far, you've found he's been the most difficult maker to get a bead on.

Shaking your head, you briefly resist against Ulthane's hand as he tries to pull you towards the spot where Elanya stands waiting, a wet cloth dangling from her fingers.

“I don't know...” you mutter even as the Old one succeeds in half steering, half dragging you across the tree and parking you in front of the younger maker, who bends onto her knees and slowly reaches out for you.

“You're not goin' any further from 'em than here,” Ulthane continues to murmur reassurances as he leans against the stone structure, observing Elanya's hands with rapt attention, ready to reprimand her if she becomes too rough.

You're so focused on Yarin as he cautiously settles himself next to the crate that you jump when large, warm fingers slide underneath your hands and lift them into the air and you very nearly end up pulling away, but two thumbs pressed gently against your palms keep you in place.

Whipping your head around yet again, you come face to face with Elanya's sunny grin and find that she's the one with her hands cupped oh-so carefully under yours. She almost seems mesmerised as she strokes the pads of her fingers along your delicate wrists, only catching herself once Ulthane very deliberately clears his throat, causing her to give a start and lean over to inspect the dried wounds on your palms more closely, tutting at the Old one's possessiveness.

“You don't have to worry about Yarin, you know” the youngling says matter of factly. Briefly, her gaze flicks up to your face before returning to your hands once more and she adds, “Aye, he looks like the sort of brute who'd eat humans up for breakfast, but between you and me?-” Pausing, she squeezes one eye into a wink and lowers her voice, whispering, “- he's a ruddy great softie, he is.”

As if to prove her point, she raises her chin and smiles fondly over your head and after following her gaze, you actually let a chary little bubble of laughter burst from your mouth at the sight before you.

Surprisingly, it's Ashleigh who appears to have approached the moustached behemoth first. She stands in front of his crossed legs, kneading her fingers into her bright, yellow dress as Yarin scoops something out of the crate and slowly holds his hand out towards her with a small sandwich packet sitting in the centre of his comparatively gargantuan palm, looking thoroughly lost.

It takes a couple of tense seconds, but gradually, the girl begins to inch forwards and pries her fingers away from the fabric of her dress, all the while staring up at the maker warily.

However, when he doesn't suddenly spring forwards and snatch her up, she grows a little bolder and stretches out over his fingers until she can reach the sandwich. Then, with the hesitancy of a doe, Ashleigh draws the precious food close to her chest and even from halfway across the tree, you can hear her meekly say, “Thank you,” giving Yarin one of her rare and peaceable smiles for good measure.

Behind you, Ulthane lets out a chuckle as his fellow maker's ears prick forwards happily and his cheeks are stretched by a beaming grin, as though the young human had just handed him the sun itself.

“Well, would you look at that,” Elanya murmurs, gently dabbing at your palms with the wet cloth, “I've nae seen him smile that wide since Dagny was born.”

Suppressing a wince from her ministrations, you raise an eyebrow and ask, “Who's Dagny?”

The blonde maker hesitates, her mouth hanging open as though she's only just realised what she's let slip and now has to decide whether or not it's her place to say more. In the end however, she resumes cleaning the dried blood off your palms and slowly mutters, “She was... Yarin's bairn.”

“Yarin... has a daughter?” you breathe, looking back at the brawny giant with newfound curiosity.

To your rear, unseen, Ulthane's eyes slip closed and he bows his head, exhaling a regretful sigh that escapes his lips in the form of a single word. “Had...”

You don't ask him to elaborate.

“I’m... christ. I’m so sorry,” you croak to the makers behind you instead, regarding Yarin with a little less caution and far more sympathy, “I never even considered...” Ashamed, you trail off at the realisation that all this time, you haven’t really given any thought to the idea that these large and incredible beings might also have families, just the same as humans do. You find yourself humbled by this new piece of knowledge and make a private vow to offer Yarin an apology for the way you’ve been staring at him, as though he were a threat to the kids.

Observing him now as he sits with his shoulders hunched and his head tucked in to make himself appear smaller for the sake of easing the children’s nerves, you berate yourself for being so quick to judge.

#darksiders #darksiders 3 #ulthane #fluff #kids #found family #gentle gianrs #angst #reader #next up #Yarin and Kitty #Elanya and Ashleigh and Sam #Reader and Ulthane find themselves alone outside the tree

50 notes · View notes

yandere-romanticaa · 4 years

Text

OC credit: @minoux-x 💕!

Yandere Terrorwood.

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴅɪᴇʟᴅʀɪɴ.

"Unpredictable" is a good word to describe this freaky man. Upon first glance he is the pitch perfect southern gentleman, his alluring voice tempting his darling to join him for a cup of tea or maybe a fun little game of sorts. He's quick at picking up the little details and quirks of his darling no matter how obscure they are.

They are all just adorable to him.

Despite his roguish charm in Viktor's eyes all of this is a game at first. The teasing glances, the sweet gestures, the fiery passion slowly igniting between the pair, it is all just a game to him. It's fun to mess with his darling and he makes that painfully obvious. Sometimes he is subtle while others he is not. He might even flirt with the people around him just to piss his darling off. After all, seeing that angry little blush on their cheeks is just the highlight of the day for this mad man. This cycle shall continue until Viktor one day sees someone else flirting with his s/o.

That little incident woke something up inside Viktor, something primal, something incredibly dark and twisted. He hated seeing other people getting so close to his s/o and from that day onwards his jealous side will start to show. He can get so petty if he doesn't get his darlings attention, God forbid they have the nerve to ignore him. He can't help but to act a little immaturely and do something stupid like for example, breaking a priceless vase just so his darling will pay attention to him.

His curiosity and obsession will only continue to grow the more time he and s/o spend together and he can't help but to wonder how he could make them perfect. Viktor could hardly ever keep his hands to himself and he won't even bother to ask his darling for permission when it comes to things like physical affection. He wants a hug? He will get one. A peck on the cheek? It's his to steal after all!

He dreams and fantasies about the grusome ways in wich he can transform his darling, to make them stand out more, to make them completely his. So what if they lose their conventional beauty? It's a win win situation in his eyes! No one would want them and poor darling will have no choice but to come running back to him. He eagerly awaits this day and he will do his best to hide his excitement but his tight grip betrays his words.

Viktor sees his darling as someone who is innocent, pure, uncorrupted by the darkness that looms around him. It's a breath of fresh air and Viktor simply can't help but to overindulge himself. Out of all of the Terrorwood residents, Viktor is the absolute worst yandere. He is selfish, sadistic and cruel, but he hides all of that beneath a light veil of playful gestures and cheerful smiles. It stopped being a game the moment he felt his dark heart ache with the lovesick pain of not being by his darlings side.

Once Viktor makes his mind up about something, he will get it. And no one can stand in his way.

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ꜱᴀʟᴇᴍ ᴋᴀʟʟɪᴇʀ.

Ah, Salem. This guy is such a mixed package that no one really knows what to make of him and his emotions. Heck, he himself has difficulties doing that at times! He's so mean to his darling at first, always insulting them for the smallest of things and always making sure to ruin their day.

Salem however has a shameful little secret - he has an entire shrine dedicated to his darling.

The mixed emotions he feels when they are around, they are just too suffocating! He feels the need to always be by darling's side but at the same time he doesn't want them to get any weird ideas either. He plays things off and brushes darling off with a wave of his hand, calling them stupid for waisting his time... In reality though, he can't get enough of it.

He wants to suffocate himself in darlings love, he wants them so, so badly! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts him so much! He panicks when darling starts to act all sweet and cutesy, he just feels like clawing his face off whenever they do that! He wants the attention but God does he hate his darling for making him feel so needy.

Also, he is a stalker, a major one at that. Poor Salem has been cursed for all of eternity to wander the Earth as a cat but he will use that here to his advantage. As a cat, he can crawl in tiny spaces and run a lot faster when compared to a human. The amount of times he broke in to darlings room is just terrifying, and Salem always brings something in order to expand his shrine. A lock of hair, a piece of gum, old lipbalm, nothing is off the table for him. His favorite thing to do though is to lie down on to darlings bed and just be there, inhaling their intoxicating scent as the clock ticks by. If he could, he would never leave that bed.

Salem hates admiting this but he gets jealous very easily. He doesn't want anyone else intruding on his teritory and he isn't afraid to cast a nasty hex on anyone if they try to pull something. Darlings best bet is to just stay sweet, despite Salem's constant complaining.

Don't let his cruel words deceive you, he likes it when he's being showered with love. And as for darling dearest? Well, I hope he doesn't catch them with anyone else because that someone might just mysteriously disappear...

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ɴʏx ᴋᴀʟʟɪᴇʀ.

This unstable little boy will keep his darling on their toes, that's for sure. Nyx himself isn't very problematic but his split personalities are enough to at least cause a headache. It's just so difficult to keep track of them. Lock especially is a little devil who simply cannot be let out of sight unless his caretaker desires to harm the others around him.

Nyx himself is pretty harmless actually and he will bearly utter a word around others. The only way his darling gets him to just say something at first is by giving him candy, which he will always accept. It starts of simple as Nyx looks at the ground, his face showing no emotions but his arms are spread for the upcoming treats.

Soon enough however, the sweet treats aren't enough to satisfy Nyx's appetite. He started to notice just how well intentioned his darling really is, and just how much they actually care for Nyx. Darling doesn't see Nyx as a thing, but rather a person and that realization makes the boys undead heart flutter with long forgotten emotions. He had forgotten what it felt like to be alive, he had forgotten what it was like to love another human being.

His darling started to teach him just that.

He suddenly became so clingy, so needy and desparate for darling's undevided attention that others around them can't help but to feel both worried and terrified. Nyx however just does not care what others think - he needs his darling! They make him feel so good, so sweet, so alive!

If they are separated, it feels like death just knocked on his door once again.

He loves it when his darling gets emotional as well, be it joy, sorrow, fear, any and all emotions are Nyx's treasures. He himself bearly shows any of his own emotions and therefore whenever he sees his darling smiling or crying, it just spaks something up inside of Nyx, and he can't get enough of it.

It's a vicious cycle that is pretty much impossible to escape. Nyx's split personalities might cause some trouble but Nyx himself is so sweet and caring, how could darling ever reject him? He will cling on to them and he will never let them go, ever.

Because if he does let go, Nyx would only be welcoming the Grim Reaper back in to his arms.

256 notes · View notes

the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

Text

You Belong With Me - Chapter 3

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Pairings: Logince

Word Count: 1844

Chapter Warnings: Minor Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Knives, Panic Attack, Unsympathetic!Remus

“I don’t think so, you little fraud. You’ll address me as ‘your grace', if you know what's good for you. Just because you’re out here doesn’t mean you’re my equal, pretty boy.” Remus smiled menacingly. Before Logan could even brace himself, Remus jabbed him in the stomach and Logan’s body folded in on itself. He would have collapsed to the ground, if Remus hadn't caught him, pushing him back against the wall.

Logan struggled to catch his breath, desperately trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. “I’m the p-prince’s p-personal advisor. If you h-hurt me, you'll be p-punished.”

“Do you promise?” Remus sneered at him, leaning close to Logan’s ear. Logan squirmed uncomfortably as Remus spoke in his ear. “Do you really think that’s a threat? You mean nothing to him. You’re just a pretty face to him.”

Logan struggled in Remus' grip but Remus barely seemed to notice, holding him firmly against the wall. Remus leaned in closer. Logan’s fought to pull away as he felt Remus' breath on his neck. “Amazing, he can even tell behind that face full of ugly bruises.”

Logan went limp in Remus' hands, defeated.

Remus leaned back and smiled. Remus slipped his hand up to guide Logan’s chin, guiding his face up to look at him. Logan’s skin crawled as Remus touched him, but he couldn’t find the will to pull away. “Pretty boy, you’re pathetic but you’re not a fool. You know I’m telling you the truth. You’re no more than a pretty face for the prince to entertain himself with. He’ll bore of you eventually. You’re discardable to him.” He laughed cruelly, stepping back. Logan's freedom only lasted a moment before Remus snapped his fingers. In a moment, Remus' minions had him pinned, arms outstretched, against the wall.

Remus turned and faced Logan, a demented smiled flashing across his face. He moved suddenly, jabbing Logan again in the stomach again. Logan's legs collapsed underneath him. He groaned, hanging limply in the grip of his assailants. Remus slid closer and Logan desperately leaned his head back away from him. Unfortunately, Logan’s discomfort only seem to encourage him. Remus leaned in closer, grabbing a handful of Logan’s hair and pulling his head up to look at Remus. Logan gritted his teeth and squirmed as he felt Remus' close in on him. Every cell in his body ached to get away as he felt Remus' breath on his face. “Did you already forget your place, my little pest? I thought you knew your place.”

Logan held his breath until Remus stepped back away from him. He stood in front of Logan, smiling sadistically. A glint of metal flashed in Remus' hand and Logan suddenly felt a new wave of panic rise in his chest. He struggled against the men’s weight, but they easily held him still. Remus playfully spun a dagger around his fingers, eyeing Logan dangerously. “Let's see if the prince still likes you after I carve up that pretty face of yours.”

“Please…no.” He begged. Logan closed his eyes, turning his head away.

“WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE?” Roman's voice filled the corridor, echoing loudly around him. Logan watched Remus startle. He and his men immediately scattered. Logan's vision narrowed but he heard footsteps moving towards them. +No longer being held up on the wall, Logan doubled over in pain, falling to the ground.

The next thing Logan knew, Roman stood over him, reaching down to him. Logan struggled to catch his breath, wheezing with great difficulty.

“Take it easy, Logan. You’re safe.” Roman said, gently pulling him to his feet.

Logan stumbled slightly and his vision blurred. He vaguely felt Roman wrap his arm around his waist to steady him. He lost track of Roman as his breathing became rapid and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked. Logan barely heard him but he could feel the prince gently brushing debris off his clothes.

“Um…uh... I—” He stuttered, struggling to form sentences. His head was spinning wildly. His head suddenly pounded painfully, and the edges of his vision were fading.

“Sorry. Stupid Question. Come sit down.” Logan felt the prince drag him over to a nearby bench. He could feel Roman's hand around his waist as he pulled Logan down onto the bench with him. A movement in his fading periphery caused Logan to flinch away, sending a new wave of panic coursing through his body. He felt Roman pull back apologetically. Logan felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

“S-s-sorry.” Logan managed to stutter as he leaned back against the wall, trying to stop his hyperventilation.

“There’s no need to apologize, Logan. Take whatever time you need to calm down. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me.”

A few minutes passed and Logan’s breathing slowly began to resemble a normal pattern again. Suddenly, gravity seemed to weigh down in him . Exhaustion settled in as the adrenaline left his body.

“Thank you.” He whispered to Roman, tiredly.

“Of course.” Roman paused, considering his words. “Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

Logan nodded. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands for a moment. Gathering what nerve he had left, he told Roman of how the men had jumped him in the corridor. He gripped his hands together tightly to keep them from shaking as he spoke. As he neared the end of his story, his voice started to fail him. His voice cracked as he told Roman how they'd pulled a knife and threatened to cut his face.

“They…” Logan paused, collecting the last of his nerves. “My assailant implied that the only reason you appointed me to this position was because you wanted me…physically.” The end of Logan's sentence was so quiet that Roman could barely make out the words.

“Logan, no. That's not true." Roman said, sadly.

Logan was silent.

"Listen, I'm going to be very transparent with you. If that’s what I wanted, I could simply have made you an escort. I didn't have to appoint you to one of the highest positions in the court. I have no need to manipulate you like that. I chose you as an advisor for a reason. You are cunning, resourceful and you are clearly incredibly intelligent. I honestly believe you will be an invaluable asset to the throne given some time.” His tone was calm and even, speaking matter-of-factly. “I would never use someone like that, Logan.”

“Okay.” Logan didn't know if he could believe what Roman was saying but it was easier for him to think that he was valued for his intelligence rather than his looks.

“I have another tough question for you, if you’re feeling well enough to answer.”

“I’m okay, Roman.” Logan’s voice was steadier now. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, trying to stop the pounding in his head. “What do you need to know?”

“If you’re sure, Logan.” He paused, gauging Logan’s reaction.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes.

“Did you recognize your attackers?”

Logan bit his lip and turned away. “No, the corridor was to dimly lit for me to identify them.”

Logan looked down at the ground as Roman stared at him. He didn't dare meet the prince’s gaze. Logan knew he wasn't a convincing liar.

To his surprise, Roman seemed to accept his answer. “Very well. If you remember anything, please tell me. That behavior is unacceptable, and I will not tolerate it. You deserve penance for the pain you endured.” Roman slowly moved closer to Logan, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I'm so sorry, Logan. I won’t let this happen again.”

Logan was silent but eventually, he leaned into the prince’s shoulder. The effect of the adrenaline had fully left him now. He sank exhausted into Roman's arms.

Roman was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“To what specifically are you referring?”

“This job, this life…” Roman shrugged. “You were forced into this choice rather suddenly.”

Logan sighed and pulled himself up out of the prince’s arms. He turned, looking into Roman’s eyes. “May I speak freely?”

“Undoubtedly.” Roman said resolutely. Roman kept his face neutral but internally, he tensed with anticipation of Logan's response. He'd met Logan less than a fortnight ago. Really, They'd only his first real conversation with him roughly a day ago, and yet, the idea of Logan leaving filled him with dread.

“My feelings on the matter are inconsequential. There’s no going back to my old life. This… occurrence has demonstrated to me that going back would surely be a death sentence.” Logan's eye briefly flicked over to Roman. “Despite what just occurred, I'm safer here than anywhere else.”

Roman was silent, looking sadly at his new friend. “You don't have to stay in this position out of fear. If that's truly the only thing keeping you here, I will help you find a safe way out.”

Logan shrugged, uncomfortable with Roman's concern. He changed his tone, hoping to alleviate the pity Roman obviously felt for him. “I am terrified but… I still wish to stay. I admit it is an exciting opportunity to work for you. Before this, my impact on the world at large was basically negligible. Now, I have the potential to influence real change in the kingdom.”

Roman relaxed a bit. “I’m glad that you have found some sense of direction in all the chaos, but I want this to be more for you than just serving a purpose.”

Logan was silent.

“We’ll talk about it later.” He paused. "Listen, I don't want you wandering around on your own anymore. For tonight, you should remain with me. Tomorrow, I will assign one of my guards to escort you during the day so you can do as you please. Honestly, in any case, it's best for you to have a guide, since you’re unfamiliar with the castle.”

“I hardly think that I could get lost.”

Roman noticed that Logan looked uncomfortable. “Listen, I understand you undoubtedly don't want a stranger hovering over your shoulder all day, but I have a particular person in mind. I think you'll get on quite well with him. If anyone could understand your situation, it would be him.”

Logan looked down at the ground, still uncertain. “I’m not thrilled with the idea, but I agree that it is necessary. I’d rather avoid another situation like today.”

“Good.” Roman perked up, trying to sound upbeat. “I have time before my next meeting. How would you like a quick tour of the tower? I think we can manage to hit most of the main points before I need to be anywhere.”

“That suggestion seems quite agreeable.” Logan smiled. His fear had subsided significantly, and his heart rate was beginning to feel normal again. It was strange. The prince had a strangely calming effect on him. His future was still uncertain but, sitting here with Roman, Logan felt a spark of hope inside him.

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #ts #logince #ts logan #ts roman #ts remus #unsympathetic remus #tw knife #You Belong With Me #villain writes

92 notes · View notes

neo-couture · 4 years

Text

touch me, tease me

pairing: Hendery x reader

warnings: some smut, angst, fwb

request: can i request an angst (and smut??) blurb of hendery and reader as fwbs who start to have feelings for each other.. and hendery wants to go further but reader is protective of her feelings lol :(( tysm

Silent gasps and moans filled the room, the struggle of staying quiet becoming almost too much. Hendery had his hand over your mouth, whispering for you to be quiet as he rolled his hips against yours. Your legs shook and tears spilled from your eyes as you felt him inside you, dragging along your walls at a painfully slow pace.

Hendery’s roommate was in the next room and the walls in their apartment were paper thin. The two of you had gotten a lecture the last time you stayed over because Kun, Hendery’s roommate, had an exam the next day and you two were “fucking like animals.” It was an awkward conversation you did not want to have again any time soon.

But, your lust-clouded brain didn’t care. Any sense of cautious and courteousness flew out the window when Hendery pressed against that spot inside you. You cried out against his hand, but he didn’t pick up his pace, he only told you to quiet down. Tease.

Frustrated, you pushed him onto the bed beneath you, his cock slipping out in the process, before you straddled him.

“Fuck being quiet,” you said. You reached behind and grabbed his hard, slick cock, and lined it up with your entrance. Sinking down, you both let out low groans, knowing in the back of your mind you’d be in for another lecture tomorrow. Pushing the thought away, you began to roll your hips against Hendery’s, his cock rubbing deep inside you. You loved riding him because he could go so deep. And you enjoyed seeing Hendery beneath you. He usually liked being in control, letting out all his energy with you. But sometimes you liked to watch him have to control himself while you took the lead.

Hendery’s hands flew to your waist, letting soft breaths escape his lips. His eyes were drawn to where the two of you were connected, very much enjoying the way his slick cock would disappear between your folds.

You moved your hips faster, chasing your high, and Hendery’s fingers dug into your skin. You hoped there’d be bruises. Something to show your other… companion later. Show him how it’s done.

“Fuck, you’re trying to make me come, aren’t you? Moving like that,” Hendery grunted. Your smile was all the reply he needed, and it wasn’t long before you felt him spill inside you. You followed closely behind, always loving the way his cock twitched when he came and the feeling of his come filling you up. He was the only guy you let do that, come inside you.

You collapsed against his chest, exhausted, sleepy, and utterly blissed out. You knew you’d have to clean up, but for a moment, it was just nice to have another heartbeat close to you.

The thing about being friends with benefits with your best friend was that sometimes hangouts blurred the lines between platonic hangouts (which almost always ended in sex) and “dates”. While you and Hendery weren’t dating, having dinner, watching a movie, then fucking sounded pretty close to dating. At least, that’s what all your friends said.

You shrugged them off, having no need for dating since your last disastrous relationship. You shuddered remembering him, how he would always check in on you to make sure you weren’t screwing around with another guy, all the while he was sleeping with another girl for almost six months of your relationship. They got married not long after your split in what – according to Instagram – was “a magic, fairy tale wedding for two soulmates”. You gagged.

You had pretended not to be hurt, but it crushed you. That had been almost two years ago, but since then, you’d sworn off actual relationships and stuck to casual, no-strings-attached deals.

Which brought you back to the Hendery situation. At first, you were reluctant because he’s your best friend, but that first night with him erased any and all concerns you had. It was by far the best sex you’d ever had and he hadn’t disappointed you since.

Recently, however, when you’d been mulling over your encounters with Hendery, you found yourself focusing on the way he would kiss you, or how he’d hold your hand, or whisper your beautiful in your ear. It was hard not to notice those things. It used to be that you’d only daydream about him fucking you, and it was more raw, more about the sex. Not so much about that other stuff.

He’d only started doing that other stuff recently as well. He’d gotten sweeter, more attentive. Maybe it was because you were best friends already. He was just being a good friend, that’s all.

You gnawed at your lip, lost in thought, not noticing when Hendery sat down across from you. “What’re you thinking about?”

It took a moment to respond when you caught sight of him. He grinned at you, charming as always, and you had to let out a breath before responding. “Nothing.” Hendery squinted at you for a moment before shrugging it off.

“Thanks again for letting me come over. It’s been a rough day. Fuck school at this point, honestly.”

You chuckled. “You say that now, but don’t try and tell me you’re not gonna be hunched over your laptop within the next hour.” Hendery shrugged and smiled again.

“Not if I’m busy doing something else.” He draped his arm across the back of the couch and suddenly the space between the two of you felt too big, too noticeable. His movement felt like a subtle invitation and you immediately felt your mouth water.

Crawling over, you tugged him in for a kiss. Hendery’s hand moved from the couch to your waist, before finding its way to your ass. He gave it a quick squeeze and you nipped his lip in response, earning you a gasp.

“What do you want tonight?” you asked, lips close to his.

He smiled up at you, eyes dark. “Anything. As long as its you.”

You flopped back against the pillows on you couch, exhausted but content. Your legs lay open as Hendery stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He patted your thigh as a signal to scoot over so he could sit beside you. It was cramped on the couch, but nice having him close.

“So? How was it?” he asked, cocky. He already knew the answer.

“Amazing, obviously.” He leaned down to kiss you, and you felt a lingering wetness on his lips mixed with your subtle taste. You wondered if he could taste himself on your lips as well.

“Well, you know I always have to return the favour.” You chuckled and felt your walls clench at the memory of his dick in your mouth. He’d hardened so nicely under your tongue, and you’d had the fabulous view of his chiseled jawline when he leaned back against the couch.

Hendery settled into the other side of the couch and you considered putting your pants back on but couldn’t quiet bring yourself to do it. Not with how Hendery kept glancing between your legs before taking a deep breath and looking away.

“Wanna come over to my place tomorrow? Kun won’t be home so we can be as loud as we want.” He winked as he said this and you felt your stomach drop.

“Ah, sorry, I have- I’m kind of seeing someone tomorrow night.”

Hendery paused for a moment. “Oh, okay. That’s fine.” An awkward silence followed and you weren’t sure what to say. You two weren’t exclusive, right? That would imply you were dating. It was the same situation with this other guy; no feelings, just fucking. So, why did you feel guilty? Why were you dreading meeting up with this other guy? Why did you feel like you had to reassure Hendery?

“I should… probably go now,” Hendery said. You blinked, shocked. Hendery usually stayed over. You two were still best friends, after all.

“Are you sure? You can stay over if you want?”

“No, I uh, I realized I have to get up early tomorrow.” He was gathering up his things, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hendery-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.”

The door closed behind him and you were left staring at it, alone.

It had been a couple days since you had heard from Hendery and fortunately, one of your friends was throwing a party, the perfect way to take your mind off everything that was going on. Although, when you arrived to your friend’s house, overflowing with drunk, rowdy students, you felt the urge to turn around and go home. But, unfortunately for you, your friend caught sight of you and dragged you into the mess.

You managed to push your way into the kitchen, away from all the drunk people. There was a couple making out on the counter but you didn’t pay any attention to them. Mainly because your eyes had caught a more gripping scene.

Hendery.

With his hands around another girl, smiling as he whispered something in her ear. You couldn’t look away when he kissed her, his eyes falling shut and his dark hair falling over his face. You wondered if that’s what he looked like when he kissed you.

Unable to look away, you gawked at the scene, wondering why you felt a sick sense of dread. His hands roamed over her body and she tangled her fingers in his hair, the way you did when he went down on you. You gripped the island counter and gasped when Hendery opened his eyes, looking directly at you. The two of you stared at each other for what seemed like hours. There was a look in Hendery’s eyes; hurt? Desire? Contentment? Anger? Deciding it didn’t actually matter, you slammed your cup against the counter and stormed out the back door.

You were pissed. Not at Hendery, but at yourself. For pushing him away, for ruining your friendship, for getting angry at him for kissing someone else when he had every right to. Your eyes were blurry with tears as you sat outside in the cold.

You wanted to go home. Fuck this stupid party.

Slowly and with much difficulty, you stood up and went to head around to the front when the back door opened.

“Hendery?”

He looked surprised for a moment, but then relaxed. “I thought I saw you come out here.”

Anger surged through you again. “I’m surprised you could see much of anything. You seemed pretty busy.” you spat. He looked at you for a moment again before gesturing for the two of you to sit. You did so reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to leave.

He let out a long sigh, wringing his hands together. “I’m going to be honest with you, Y/N. I don’t want her.” You shrugged, feigning indifference. What did it matter to you? “I want you.”

You froze.

Did he mean-?

“What do you-?”

“I want to go out with you, date you, whatever. Properly.” You gawked at him, your brain completely shutting down. While he waited for your response, he hung his head, hair falling over his eyes once again. To an outsider, he expression looked neutral, calm. But you saw the turmoil in his eyes.

“Hendery, I-” Yes. Yes. You wanted to say. You yelled at yourself in your head to just say it, but nothing came out. “Y-you know I-”

“Don’t do relationships. I know. I just… I thought if you wanted to give it a try…?”

Again, you said nothing, only stared. The voice inside your head still yelling at you to say yes. This is what you’ve been wanting. But still, you said nothing.

Probably tired of waiting for an answer, Hendery stood up to go back inside. “You don’t have to have an answer now. Just... think about.”

He gave you once last glance before shutting the door behind him, and then he was gone.

It had been several days since Hendery had heard from you. He was starting to lose hope. He regretted telling you how he felt, wishing things could go back to the way they were. Maybe even to before you were friends with benefits, and just friends. You two were good at that.

And now everything might be ruined.

Because he ruined it.

At least you didn’t tell her you love her, Hendery thought. No, he’d save that for another time. If there was another time.

There was a knock at his door, Kun, of course, and Hendery grunted in response. Kun cracked open the door to Hendery’s room and poked his head in.

“Um, Y/N’s here.”

Hendery shot up, staring at Kun with wide eyes. No, no, this is not good, he thought, I’m in my pajamas and haven’t showered in days. If she wasn’t going to go out with me before, she sure won’t now. But before he could protest, Kun stepped aside to let you enter.

Hendery gawked, speechless. And feeling slightly betrayed by Kun.

“Hi,” you said shyly. Hendery let out a breathless hi in return, not noticing Kun shut the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped closer to Hendery. Your mind was still going a million miles a minute, and you felt scared, anxious, guilty, but also happy, excited, hopeful. It felt like you’d made the right decision.

You held out your hand to him and he hesitantly slipped his hand into your palm.

“I’m willing to give it a try if you still are,” you said.

It took a moment for Hendery to reply, and then he let out a few nervous laughs which turned into giggles. You smiled. Yes, this is what you wanted.

Hendery smiled back.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

#hendery #hendery smut #hendery imagines #hendery scenarios #hendery x reader #wayv #wayv smut #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv x reader #thank you for sending in the request!!!#this is kinda shit and i suck at angst but i still hope you like it!!!!!!!!!!!!! ly <3333 #my writing #request

111 notes · View notes

berrykookie · 4 years

Text

Found You! - Part 6

Genre: Mafia!AU - Taehyung Centric

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: This chapter contains events of torture and mentions of blood. Reader discretion is suggested.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

—

When you visited Taehyung after a couple of days, his expressions told to you everything before he could say a word. Shock was written all over his face and he couldn’t contain the curiosity. But to tell the truth, you were in no better condition than him when you had found out.

It was difficult to believe at first. You had not expected your father to give in at all. You were almost sure that he wouldn’t miss another chance to humiliate you when you asked him to hand over Taehyung’s matter, but he did not. He just sighed and nodded his head. He might not have approved of you, but he didn’t say ‘no’ either. It was a first for you. And you were more than clear about what you were going to do. You were doing everything on your own and only the two of your trusted men, Minho and Jaeha, knew what you were up to. They were the ones who had protected you since childhood and you trusted them.

But Taehyung wasn’t shocked to see you there. He was shocked because you were the only person to have visited him in the past days. There had been no more of your father’s men coming down and trying to get information out of him. He was being treated just fine, no one forcing him, punching him, beating him to a pulp or anything.

“What did you feed your father?” Taehyung shot at you when he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to know. What was your father’s plan? Did he want Taehyung to grow old and die alone in that stupid basement? For him, it was worse than the treatment he was receiving until a few days ago.

“Well, let’s say I just told him that I’d deal with you my way.” You smirked at him, settling down his dinner plate in his lap and grabbing a chair as you sat across him. You were oozing with confidence while Taehyung dealt with his difficulties in comprehending the whole situation.

“Wait! Does that mean he took back his orders? No more ‘beating me till my bones turn to powder’?” He quoted one your father’s men. You could notice that he was getting comfortable with the situation as he gained back his composure, his cockiness returning to him at its own pace.

“Never said that,” you shrugged, leaning back in your seat.

“Then, does that mean you’re not carrying out his orders?” Taehyung spoke in a low voice, raising an eyebrow at you. He was back with his tactics. But with his teasing words, you saw something else that flashed through his face for just a second, but long enough for you to notice. Was he concerned about you?

“Just eat, Taehyung, before I take that plate away!” you shushed him, but that didn’t mean you were at ease. You knew well enough what you were getting yourself into and what could be the possible outcomes. But it was too late to turn back now. You’ve already come too far. You got up from your chair and walked around casually as he played with the food instead of eating it. There was definitely something going on in his head and the last thing you wanted was for Taehyung to find a weak string in case your face reflected what you were thinking.

“Why does it look like...” Taehyung started as if he was giving something a serious thought, waiting for you to fully focus on what he was going to say, “that you have started to like me, Y/N?” His words made you stop in your tracks for a very small second but that did not go unnoticed by him. You would have taken him seriously for once if not for the expression on his face. His mouth was slightly open, tongue in his cheek as he looked at you with mocking puppy eyes. He would just go to any lengths to annoy you. Having his bones broken was so much better than this, you thought. The fact that Taehyung had noticed how you faltered ever so slightly when he mentioned it made you burn with anger.

“Starve yourself!” you spat as you snatched the plate away from him. The grin that played on his face after your act wasn’t helping you at all. He was getting on your nerves, unravelling you without putting in much effort and you hated it.

You left the room with angry steps and stood outside the door. If you were near him for another second, you had no idea what you would do.

The approaching footsteps from the hallway made you stand straight immediately and you tried to slow down your rapid breathing. You didn’t want to give anyone any chance to call you unfit again.

You stood there calmly, waiting for whosoever it was. And then you saw your father walking with Jaeha and Minho in your direction. You felt an instant shudder run down your spine as he came towards you and stopped. Only when his eyes followed the dish in your hand did you realise you were still holding it.

“He refused to eat,” you explained, knowing what was going in his mind.

“Is everything going according to the plan?” He spoke with monotony, as if the most boring task of the day had been to check up on you.

“Y-yes.” You hated the way you stuttered after doing so well so far. But you father ignored it. You sighed in relief when he walked away without asking more question.

You waited for a second and then peaked inside the door to see if Taehyung had heard anything. And you could actually see it. He was serious for the very first time since he had been held here.

“You lied.” He had caught you. The cluelessness that he was feeling at the moment was evident in his voice.

You slammed the door shut and walked back to your room. Now was not the time.

—

Taehyung’s behaviour changed in the coming days. He grew serious and genuinely wondered what was happening and what you planned on doing. One thing he was sure about was that you were protecting him in some way or the other.

“You need to stop doing this,” he said one day when you arrived with his lunch. He didn’t look at his plate even once for his eyes were only fixed on you, showing nothing but concern.

“You don’t give the orders around here.” Your voice was still stern, disregarding everything that he said and expressed.

“This is boring! At least it was fun back then, playing with them,” he complained, covering up for what he had said. But when you just scoffed in response without saying anything, or asking him to cut the crap, he knew there wasn’t a point in playing around at the moment.

“Please, Y/N, don’t do this.” His voice came out low this time. When you looked at him, his face showed no signs of any playfulness. He was serious, and concerned. For the first time, he wasn’t joking or mocking you.

“Shut up!” You spoke as you walked a little closer to him to undo his binds so he could eat. He couldn’t even keep quiet when I’m trying to help him, you thought.

You were just untying his right hand when the door behind you opened with a bang.

“I thought I’d—” The voice behind you stopped mid sentence.

Shit!

You looked at Taehyung with horrified eyes, your hands freezing on his own. He mirrored your expression and was equally terrified as he looked straight at the intruder.

Your father.

Your breath was stuck in your throat and breathing had never been such a task. You straightened yourself and turned around only to find him looking at you with bloodshot eyes.

“Father...” It came out as a mere whisper. All the energy from your body had suddenly drained out and you couldn’t even form proper thoughts or words.

“Oh, no no! Did I disturb something?” He turned away from you and acted like he didn’t want to see or interrupt anything. And that was worse. It was always more dangerous when he acted casual instead of angry, and Taehyung was about to witness it for the first time with you.

He turned towards you when he was done with his little act and started walking in your direction with menacingly slow steps.

“Oh my little, little daughter,” he cooed threateningly and you automatically started to step back. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You were scared. You had known all too well that this would happen if he ever found out but you had done it anyway. And here were the consequences, right before you, progressing towards you painfully slow; knowing that the fear that was creeping up your entire being was only going to turn everything more brutal.

You were sure your heart had stopped beating as you stopped where you were. Your body couldn’t move no matter how much you tried. Your head was spinning and your vision was getting clouded.

Your father was already standing before you by this moment and looked right at you with a piercing gaze. He grabbed you by the arms as he jerked your body violently, making you come back to your senses.

Fear was crawling and making its way into your skin so slow that you could almost feel it corrupting your insides. You felt like you were going to be sick but your father had other plans. Before you could think anything else, you felt a burning sensation on your left cheek as his hand came into contact with your face so hard that you fell on the floor. The sound resonated through the room and you could still hear the ringing in your ears. The corner of your mouth bled and you felt like you were going to faint from the impact.

“You bitch!” He screamed at you as you tried to stand back up, ignoring the pain but failing. His men were already making their way to you.

“It’s no-not like that,” you stuttered.

“What is it then?” he asked through gritted teeth and wrapped his hand around your throat. Your eyes widened when he started to apply pressure. Was he really going to kill you?

you tried to pry off his hands but all your efforts went into vain.

“Stop!” a scream left Taehyung unexpectedly and his voice was what helped you stay awake when all you wanted to close your eyes and slip away right then and there.

Lee turned his head to look at Taehyung, finally acknowledging his presence. He let go of you, pushing you away as he directed all his attention at Taehyung. You stumbled back and crashed hard into the floor, consciousness slipping and and out of you at a blinding rate.

“Oh, Romeo! Is it difficult watching her like this?” Your father jeered at him as he walked towards him and grabbed his jaw roughly with one of his hands. “How about this?” he said and his pets got the message.

Minho walked towards you and kicked you so hard in the stomach you thought you would die from the pain. You wanted to scream but no voice came out. Tears formed in your eyes as they fell on the hard concrete floor as you rolled over in pain, wincing quietly.

Taehyung was on the verge of tears himself. No matter how much he liked to joke around but he was a sensitive person inside.

“Pick her up! My office!” Your father spat another order before letting go of Taehyung with a jerk so hard something would have surely snapped inside his neck and walked out of the room. Taehyung did not care about himself. His heart flipped at the sight of you and the thought of what they’d do to you troubled his mind. You had done all of this because of him, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as you suffered at their hands.

You eyes closed and you only felt pain thereafter as they pulled you up from the ground and roughly picked you up, with the least care they could manage.

You were being carried out of the room when you heard Taehyung shouting your name at the top of his voice.

“Stop! Let her go!” He screamed his lungs out, not caring that his throat burned and his voice croaked because of the act. And that was the last this before everything turned quiet and black at the same time.

#bts mafia au #taehyung mafia au #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts scenario #taehyung scenario #found you

29 notes · View notes