#CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 2... PART1!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sashi-ya · 1 year ago

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𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑩: 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑿 「cuts of freedom: part 4」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: ok, ok! since you've been asking for a continuation, here it is! thank you for your support + were you expecting some kind of drama? if so, wait for yet another part then 🙊 tw: mdni! sex explicit scenes. Soshi is a little hurt so he is not going to be as active as usual. more of a romantic chapter. they are on the early stages of a rs so doubts are all over. oral (given). riding. nipple play kinda. wc: 3k // part1: cuts of freedom // part 2: かんぱい！// part 3: stuffed // masterlist

He got hurt. that fight wasn’t easy, and yet he still wanted to keep fighting. “You should go to rest!” Ashiro Taichou scolded him, and he finally complied.

That same day, nobody wanted breakfast. All of you wanted to sleep, rest, pass out on your beds. And maybe too late for lunch everybody started waking up…

Like zombies, you all drag towards the dining room. Those with pain on their limbs, and those who have no visible injuries are all equally hungry.

You sit down next to Kikoru, and while she seems a lot more energetic than you, she is still sleepy. You grab something to eat, scanning the place to find him anywhere.

Despite him having a couple of bad injuries, he only spent a couple of hours at the medical centre. And so, you waited for his happy smile to appear and salute you all.

However, the food is almost completely gone, and he hasn’t appeared yet. The one who does, actually, is your captain, Mina.

“I came to salute and thank you for your hard work, guys. We’ve decided to let you all have a relax day. Keep in mind that if necessary we might need to call you back for duty”

Everybody. Absolutely. Went. Crazily happy.

You could or not ask for your vice-captain, but it would be… suspicious. You don’t want people getting in the way, not because it was forbidden. But because people will talk… and the risk, the secret you both have is exhilarating enough to keep it in between you and him.

Though the mystery of where he was, was discovered some minutes after with a “ping” on your phone…

16:02>VC Hoshina: are you o.o.d already? 16:03>you: yes, how do you know? 16:05>VC Hoshina: who do you think requested Ashiro Taichou for you all to have a day off? let’s have a night in at my place tonight. I’ll make dinner. Be ready at 5, I’ll be outside. 16:05>you: outside? Together? Are you sure? aren’t you supposed to be resting? 16:06>you: yep, you coming home with me so you can take care of me… 😏

A date? A night in? His place? are we really dating? Are we a… couple?

It is taking you all you got not to show your happy smile -you do anyway-. It feels too good to be real. You wonder how his place might look like? What is he going to cook? Which clothes should you bring?

Ultimately, and exactly 10 minutes prior your set meting point, you are ready. You pick the sexiest underwear you could probably have while living at the base. -sports bra and panties- and little toiletries. Your backpack isn’t heavy, but your stomach is. Despite everything you two have experienced together, the first time you are actually on a date with nobody around will be this.

“Ready?” he asks, peeking from the windows of his car. Black, exquisite, modern, expensive. What else would you expect?

“Yes ~” you whisper, smiling sexily.

Once you are inside and you have fastened the seat belt on, Soshiro comes closer to your lips. His fingers land on your chin, pulling you ever so softly towards his.

“Don’t give me that look, or I’ll fuck you right here” he whispers, planting a peck soon after.

You gasp silently; strong, funny, handsome, charismatic, and such a player… your heart skips quite some beats, and only the roaring of the car engine is able to break the enchantment you have fallen in.

Of course, the ride ended up pretty fast. Despite Soshiro having his house, the Hoshina family manor, he prefers to rent a very modest -not really, his is disgustingly rich- apartment closer to the base for obvious reasons.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the base. Wanna come back?” he asks, this time as serious as he can be.

“No, I was only intrigued about your lifestyle. Everything around here looks beautiful, Hoshina fuku Taicho” you murmur, following him inside the elevator.

He giggles; and instants later, when the lift doors close, he smirks. Eyes now open, sloppy but sexy, looking at you like a kaiju to subjugate, making you take little steps back against you encounter the mirrored wall behind.

You know how men turn when inside elevators…

“So-shi-ro” he corrects you; even him feels the need to forget for some hours about your jobs.

“so…shi…ro ~” you purr.

His hands end up on the railing behind you, on each side of your hips. His chest, chiselled to perfection, closer to yours. His lips, even closer than before.

“I would very much like to fuck you right here, too. There are cameras. I wouldn’t mind if you want to videotape us, but you are mine… and I don’t want anybody else to see you”

You swallow, once again your legs turned weak. And your brain? Stopped “braining”.

The doors open, and inside the apartment you both go. With wet panties, you try to act as if the last interaction never happened.

“Welcome ~” he sings, taking his boots off.

Inside, of course, everything seems more expensive than a whole year worth of salary, so you try not to touch anything. There aren’t many decorative pieces, but definitely the ones that garnish the walls are various blades shining their metallic glitter with white led lights.

Ahead, a big glass wall let’s your eyes infuse in a dying sun over the city of Tachikawa’s golden hour.

“What a beautiful view” you murmur, taking off your shoes.

“A panoramic view that will sooner or later be destroyed by those bitches…” he sighs, surrounding your waist with his arms from behind.

Soshiro’s chin rests on your shoulder; his aura feels a lot more romantic and calmed. It seems as if he really wanted a chill night with you and not just a lustful chain of sexual desires unleashed.

“Are you feeling ok? Does anything hurt?” you ask, worried. He didn’t seem very hurt while driving but he is strong to ignore any pain.

“Mhh? I think so. Though, that thing… was scary” he is as honest as he can be while turning you around to face him.

His eyes are beautifully tinted in orange, as the light of sunset reflects on them. His hair, purple and black, frame a sweet face. The sound of a feng shui little fountain takes over with infinite drops falling on dancing pieces of bamboo branches.

“Thank you for inviting me over…” you whisper, getting drunk on the handsome features you fell for.

Soshiro smiles softly, placing his forehead on yours. Both close your eyes, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of a private refugee. For once, maybe for some hours, there is peace in your minds.

“You don’t need to be invited to come here” he whispers back, placing a kiss on your forehead, leaving you speechless… Is this the confirmation he is going for real with you?

Soon, and after a very deep kiss, tinted in love and lust, he tells you to wait for him.

You use such time to enjoy for a little longer those outstanding views of the city, but what you will watch at next will be a lot more worth it to look at…

Dressed in yukata, Soshiro looks a lot more relaxed than before. And you, well… you try not to die to such show off of autochthone beauty scattered in front of you.

“You- wow…” you simply express. “Sorry, the bandages feel more comfortable if I am wearing lose clothes…”

He enjoys your needy eyes scanning him up and down, and soon asks you to follow him to the kitchenette where he prepares a series of very sharp objects to cook with.

“You know why squad 3 was happy at first when I joined?” he asks, taking fresh -very fresh and expensive- salmon out of the fridge.

“Mmm… ‘cause you were funny?” you joke. You know it is probably because of his skills.

He looks at you a little annoyed, but soon brush it off with a silly laugh.

“No! it is because Mina can’t handle knives. So, I, naturally being the great swordsman I am -and also great cook-, I was the one in charge of cutting the ingredients for them”

You giggle; you knew Mina didn’t have such skill… but at that point?

“Then mr. cook swordsman, please delight me with your skills” you purr, bending over the counter isle. Your collar allows the very beginning of your breasts to show, but Soshiro knows very well that he should focus on not cutting himself instead of it.

He scoffs, and precisely begins cutting thin slices of salmon. The way his sharp blade sections that pinkish flesh makes an act that to some might be barbaric, a ravishing image to look at.

Soshiro’s profile shows a tensing mandible, with muscles moving along with concentration and technique. It reminds you to the times you’ve seen him train minus the sweat -not that you were complaining about it, actually-

The way his yukata opens just enough for you to admire his pale flesh, obliges you to bite the insides of your mouth; to cross your legs enough as a natural reflex to satisfy the demands of your femininity.

Once those fine pieces of fish have been cut, they are put to rest to the side. Soshiro proceeds to grab a bowl with freshly cooked rice from the fridge, followed by the ingredients to assemble the nigiri.

He takes a swift look at you from the side; his smirk, makes you shiver. He knows he looks hot while doing this, and he will continue to do so for as long as he wants it to.

The way he cups a little ball of rice into his palm, and how he spreads the spicy wasabi on it, reminds you of how good his hands are when he touches you… so sensual, delicate, precise.

You can’t help but get lost into what he is doing, with a silly in love face, you allow him to continue in complete silence.

And once he is finished with the nigiri, he begins to prepare a sweet sauce that you assume must contain mango.

“Try the sauce” he offers, with a silver spoon.

You walk around the counter and allow him to feed you the preparation right into your mouth. As sexy as possible, and as delicious as it can be, you enjoy the taste that’s also followed by his lips being pressed on yours. A kiss so sweet with little hints of citric, a kiss that threatens diner to be forgotten.

Soshiro lifts you up on top of the table; leaving the preparations on the side. His yukata opens a little bit more, showing off protruding -so delicious- collar bones, his bare chest and the very beginning of bandages tied around his waist.

You open your legs for him to come closer, but now that you’ve seen the bandages you make sure you are absolutely delicate with your movements.

He kisses you again and again; he is soft and sweet, and absolutely sensual as well.

“Here” he murmurs, once he is over with your swollen lips and brings one of the pieces of sushi he just created to your mouth. Bare fingers, as traditionally as can be, he feeds you.

Delighted, you enjoy the savoury mix with the sweet sauce.

“So good, Soshiro… you were right, you are a wonderful cook” you murmur, still enjoying the piece in your mouth.

“Told you ~” he giggles, bragging about an undeniable truth.

You giggle too, this time grabbing a piece with your hands and giving it to him right into his mouth.

It might be a different experience for the both of you; a relaxing, mature, romantic and sensual night it…

And when the nigiri are definitely over, and your hunger -for food- satisfied, Soshiro invites you to yet another part of his department; the balcony. Such place is anything but small, but it is definitely cozy. It also communicates right with his room.

“I already told you this, but this view is breath-taking” you purr. “I think so, yes” he whispers, grazing your nape and neck with loving hand and looking right into your eyes.

Your cheeks burn; your stomach gets full of dancing, kaiju sized butterflies.

“I love this side of you…” you mumble, hugging him, placing your head on his chest with utmost care. “You made me feel like doing this” he answers, kissing the crown of your head.

Both enjoy the night views; laughing at an Izumo tecs drone falling down because it encountered a tree in its way. Of course, Soshiro laughs the loudest, and you can’t help but hug him harder as his fangs protrude like if he were a little kitten.

“auch-“ he grimaces. “oh, oh god. I’m so sorry!!” you panic, remembering his waist is covered in bandages. “take me… to… my bed!” he acts as if he was about to die, and you try to supress the laughter.

Soshiro -still acting up- opens the sliding glass doors of his room, and inside you both go.

He pounces into bed, dragging you with him. And despite him definitely knowing that he shouldn’t have done that, he brushes the pain on his belly away.

“You good?” “NO. CURE ME”

Soshiro holds you closer, snuggling with you on a king-sized bed. Finally, comfortable, you two lay together. And still, there isn’t room for anything in between you both.

For quite some time you stay in silence nuzzled into his chest. His perfume, so delicious, gets you drunk in love. His skin, pale and soft, like always, lures you to bite and kiss. His hand, heavy and warm, plays with your hair, slowly.

“I want to make love to you” Soshiro suddenly says, breaking the silence and stopping your heart.

“You…” you whisper, feeling a heat wave taking over your cheeks, nose and ears.

“With no hurries, nor worries” he continues, bringing his hand down your spine and into the small of your back. Soshiro pulls you even closer to him, with your core pressed against the side of his leg.

Your lips meet again, you don’t have to say “yes” to his proposal. You just want it to happen now. And soon, you become undressed in one bit.

However, you don’t want him -yet- to do all the work tonight. And perhaps, as a way of thanking him for this night, you want to pleasure him first.

Standing up without saying much, you crawl in between his legs. Your hands reach for the sash that holds his yukata together, and slowly as he wanted, you untie it.

Soshiro smirks, biting his own lip with sharp fangs.

“Put yourself comfortable; you cooked, now dessert is on me”

He gets, indeed, comfortable as he puts both pillows underneath his nape and his hands are ready to fall upon your head once your mouth begins to work on his sex.

Hard, of course, he waits. Hard, dripping with wet boxers, a damp stain on grey underwear you make bigger licking over it.

Soshiro squirms; your oral is delicious, as his taste is to you. Yet, the fabric isn’t as good as his bare skin. So, you pull from the hem of his boxer briefs, urging him to help you with the wiggling of his hips.

You place a kiss right on the tip, and your hand surrounds his rock-hard shaft. You can tell he is more than sensitive to your lips, as he begins contorting little by little.

But it is not enough pleasure. And deep inside your mouth, you let his sex slide in. Hitting faster your throat, his moans and grunts are a delightful symphony of lust.

“Honey…ugh…” he whines, pulling your head back from your hair, as pleasure seems to be high enough to make him burst.

“What? ~ already cumming?” you ask, kinda giggling and still pumping his dick up and down.

“In fact, yes! Come here, let me fuck you- I- ugh-“ Soshiro says, trying to stand up, soon noticing the wound in his stomach hurts more than what he thought. Perhaps the pain killers have already lost its effect, or it was the fact his muscles tensed and spasmed.

“Calm down, vice-captain… you are convalescent, let me do all the work for you” “It was me who wanted to make love to you” “maybe tomorrow morning…”

You, knowing that even if he is not on top he will make love to you either way, climb on his lap. As you promised, you will be the one doing the work for now.

One of your hands drive his shaft right into your entrance, and for some seconds you remain there, with it barely penetrating you. With both of you already moaning to the feeling. With your inner thighs shaking, ready to crumble and let Soshiro’s sex to go deep inside of you.

Eager. Desperate.

You let your hips flop onto his, allowing his dick to be finally deep, so very deep inside of you. Your hands fall on the backrest, for a better grip before you start riding.

As for Soshiro, he squeezes your butt cheeks, pressing you harder against him. No matter how painful his wound may turn, his body acts on his own. He follows your movements, sync to the rhythm of your ups downs and arounds.

He enjoys the view of your bouncy chest right above his face, making it impossible not to want to bite them. And so, he does. As you ride, he sucks, bites, nibbles on your nipples.

With one hand on the small of your back, and the other grabbing one of your breasts, Soshiro and you sail to ecstasy surely and despite wanting to go slow… none of you could stop your bodies from going at least feral.

So feral your hearts, about to pounce from your chests. So feral, with moaning loudly, with nobody from the squad to hear you whine.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFeral, feral, feral. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe sound of his phone stops it all. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ [Okonogi-chan calling…]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ "Why is she calling, Soshiro?"

#kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soushirou #hoshina soshirou x reader

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kirikorik · 3 months ago

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Dawn over Rome

Emperor Geta / OC (Helena)

Part1! Part2 ! Part3...

Summary: “General Acacius has fallen,” exclaims Emperor Geta. “But he left us the most precious thing he had—his daughter! The sun of our Rome!” If the road leads to the abyss, only a madman would walk it with submission. But does a prisoner have the right to choose? “In the name of peace, I shall take his daughter as my lawful wife!” Peace is merely a word behind which violence hides. Oaths sworn in blood do not smell of blessing but of a curse. “Smile, my little bird, you are to bear the emperor's child,” a warm, sticky whisper. “And remember, your whore of a mother is still alive.” She is his. She will be his. Just as the sun belongs to the sky, just as fire devours wood, so too was Helena made to burn for him alone…

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!

Warnings: Forced Marriage, Rape, Rough Sex, Possessive Behavior, Obsession,Sex Dubious, Consent Mildly Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, public sex,Sexual Overstimulation, Depression, Angst, Drama, Blood and Violence, Unrequited, Love, Sexual Content, Complicated Relationships, Sexism, Sexual Inexperience, Cruelty, Feelings, Possessive Sex, Pregnancy, Forced Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding.

Chapter 2

The Day Before the Verdict

The hot Roman air is thick and motionless, saturated with the scents of dust, sweat, and blood. The scent of death. The Colosseum lives and breathes like a beast. Its stone teeth bite into the sky, while within its depths, a crowd seethes, hungry for spectacle.

The hum of voices, laughter, shouts, the clinking of cups, and the hoarse melody of a flute merge into a single rhythm—oppressive, all-pervading. The smell of roasted meat from food vendors mixes with the aroma of rose oil, which the patricians lavishly pour onto their wrists. But even in this whirlpool of scents and sounds, one pierces to the bone—the smell of blood. Raw, heavy, sticky.

Helena steps forward. Her back remains straight, but her heart beats too loudly. A gown of ivory, embroidered with golden threads, flows softly over the marble floor, accentuating her slender figure. A light, transparent cape, perfumed with myrrh and saffron, rests on her shoulders. But even these fragrances cannot mask the stench of decay soaked into the walls.

Beside her walks Lucilla. Her toga, adorned with silver-embroidered eagles, sways gently with each step, and golden bracelets chime on her wrists. Her face remains impassive, but the fingers clutching the fabric betray her tension.

“Smile, child,” she murmurs barely audibly, without turning her head. “Do not let him defeat you before the battle even begins.”

Helena does not answer. She knows who awaits her ahead. For six years, he had been nothing but a name, a shadow in her memory. But now she is here. And he has suddenly become real. Tangible.

Glancing at the floor, Helena suddenly recalled their first meeting…

A secular evening in the imperial palace was noisy: the clinking of glasses and laughter—pure and childish or muffled and adult. The summer air was thickly saturated with the aromas of blooming jasmine, wine vapors, and expensive oils with which the noble guests were anointed. Between the columns, the lights of torches flickered, casting trembling reflections on gilded garments.

While the adults immersed themselves in conversations and conspiracies, the children played in the inner courtyard under the watchful eyes of nannies and guards.

Eight-year-old Geta sat on a bench by the fountain, tense, sullen, pressing his lips together. He felt irritation—nasty, like the stale smell of sweat on a hot day. Children always disgusted him: they were noisy, fussy, intrusive. Their sticky hands, dirty clothes, the way they would cling, tug, try to please. He despised them. All of them, except his brother.

Caracalla sat nearby, accepting attention with pleasure. Both of them were adorned with jewelry like temples on a festive day: gold bracelets, chains, expensive fabrics. Their thick, red hair, like autumn leaves, shone in the firelight.

Parents taught all the children that they had to befriend the emperor's sons, but whom to choose? No one could decide, so they tried to please both at once.

Geta hated it. He noticed how some boys would approach him first, then hurry over to Caracalla, how the girls giggled, flattered, but their glances darted between the brothers.

His brother, already surrounded by several children, spoke loudly, laughed. It was easier for others to befriend Caracalla—to dig in the dirt rather than stare at a sullen face, not to wonder when Geta would grimace at the sight of dirt under children's nails or on their faces. Geta was gloomier, more withdrawn, and everything happening around him annoyed him. He preferred the company of adults, but he never left his brother’s side.

And then he noticed her.

His gaze caught on a small, fragile girl. He had never seen her before. And most importantly—she was not hovering around them, not trying to get his attention, not ingratiating herself. She sat among other girls, weaving a wreath. Boys bustled around her—some, bolder, tugged at her hair, some peered into her bright green eyes, some simply laughed nearby. Her golden strands gleamed even in the twilight. They were bright as the sun, like golden rays on marble. And the girl seemed to them something light, warm, special. But Geta saw that she was completely smeared—her dress stained with grass, her hands dirty, leaves tangled in her hair, and a dark smudge on her cheek—perhaps dirt, perhaps the remains of a sweet fruit.

She laughed, and that laughter cut into his ears.

The emperor’s son watched intently as the girl, tilting her head, twisted stems into neat patterns. He didn’t like that others surrounded her, didn’t like that she laughed—not with him. He was angry at the stranger without understanding why.

And when her wreath was ready, one of the children pushed her forward. Geta watched as she stepped closer and then stopped between him and his brother. She lifted her eyes, deciding—Caracalla, who smiled at her, or Geta, who frowned, watching from under his brows. She lingered on the first, but then, without further hesitation, stepped toward the second.

Geta froze, lips slightly parted.

She chose him.

She did not walk between them, did not try to please both, did not glance at the others. She simply held out the wreath to him, with her small palms.

Geta did not move. His hands remained folded, his face tense. He was not used to children giving him anything. Everything he had, he received because he was the emperor’s son. Because people sought his favor, because they wanted something from him, while he wanted nothing from them.

But the girl, unknown to him before, simply looked at him, asking for nothing. And then something flared in his chest—unpleasant, sticky, like honey dripping behind his collar. And this feeling spread vilely inside him.

She chose him. Only him.

"A gift," the girl said softly.

She was still very small, clearly a few years younger than him. Her height didn’t allow her to reach, so she rose onto her toes and, not waiting for the emperor’s son to take the wreath himself, carefully placed it on his head. Geta caught the scent of fresh flowers and, without noticing, leaned slightly toward her.

"Only for you," the golden-haired girl repeated firmly.

Geta heard one of the adults huff, the servants whisper. But he did not take his eyes off her, struck by the fact that, for the first time in his life, someone had chosen him just like that. Not out of fear, not because of power, not because they had to.

Again, Geta did not know how to react. Something inexplicable boiled in his chest. And the girl suddenly, just as he reached out to help her climb onto the bench—allowing someone to sit beside him for the first time—jumped back and, laughing loudly, dashed back to the children.

"What’s your name?" burst out before he could think.

"Helena!" she called over her shoulder, not stopping.

Her name is light, flame and fire.

Geta watched her, unbelieving. How could this be? She chose him—so now she must stay near! She couldn’t just leave! And jumping up from the bench, he took a step after her—but stopped. Froze.

Helena must stay close now. She must be his.

Geta was used to everything he wanted ending up in his hands. Toys, treats, attention, praise. Everything was for him. He only had to reach out—and he received. But now? Now Helena had smiled at him, given him a wreath, and ran off, as if he were nobody, as if her choice meant nothing.

Geta clenched his fists. This feeling, constricting him from within, was new. Childish, yet fierce, like a child who had suddenly been denied his favorite toy. For the first time in his life, he didn’t get something immediately. And for the first time in his life, he wanted something so badly.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the boy trudged after her, unable to let Helena go. Not understanding, but already feeling—that now, she must belong only to him…

Geta saw her immediately.

He was hiding in the shadows of the massive colonnade, dressed in a purple toga lined with fine fabrics, fastened with golden clasps. His strong arms were crossed over his chest, and his dark eyes, deep as whirlpools, watched her. And when he began to walk, the crowd parted before him, as if fate itself was weaving a path for him.

Helena entered the spacious hall, and the firelight reflected in her golden hair, playing like sparks in her spring-leaf-colored eyes. "The Sun and Joy of the Empire"—that was the name she had earned over the years.

Geta took a step closer. His smile was slow, lazy. But there was something dangerous in it.

"Well, hello, meus sol," his voice was deep, thick, like warm honey. "I have waited for you for so long, my little bird. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you, heard your voice, imagined you before me. And now, at last, you are here. Just as I remember you… even more beautiful."

It is vulgar. It is wrong. This should not be.

But he is the Emperor.

Geta reached out his hand, and before Helena could recoil, he leaned in, his fingertips brushing against her cheek. A light touch—like silken cobwebs, but behind it lay something commanding. He smirked. There was something hungry, dark in his eyes, yet admiring at the same time.

"I thought you would smile at me, as you used to, when you ran to meet me in the garden," a note of disappointment flickered in his voice. Geta leaned in playfully, just a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you not miss me? Admit it, little bird, you did, didn’t you?"

Helena jerked away. Her chest rose with anger, her eyes flashed like lightning. She looked at him as if he were a stranger, an enemy.

And suddenly, Geta realized—this was not the girl he remembered. The one who laughed beside him, admired his stories, chased sunbeams on the marble walls—she was left behind in her ancestral home, where she grew up under her father’s wing. But this Helena—this one was different.

She hated him. And she was right to.

"Do not touch me," her voice was as cold as the steel of Roman blades. But then, suddenly, she huffed, curling her lips into a mocking smile. "Or has my Emperor forgotten that he sentenced my father to death?"

She stepped forward sharply, and Geta stopped breathing. He had expected anger, fear—but not this defiance.

"You dragged us into this nightmare. And you think I should be glad to see you? How foolish…"

The Emperor watched her in silence. His lips still held a shadow of a smile, but his eyes darkened, growing heavy like storm clouds over a battlefield. Slowly, he lowered his hand—but he did not look away.

"Your father condemned himself," his voice was firm, almost indifferent. All that remained was the cold certainty that the one who is stronger is always right. "He knew that betrayal is never forgiven. Just like your stepmother. Geta's gaze slid past Elena, cold and uninterested. "Isn't that right, Lucilla?"

The woman remained silent, but her fingers tightened around the fabric of her stepdaughter’s toga. And Geta looked at Helena again. But now his smile grew wider, more poisonous—like a hawk finally closing in on its prey.

"I ordered your whole family to be brought here," he said lazily, as if speaking of something mundane. "So where is your mother, Helena?"

He let out a bitter chuckle, as if he had just remembered something amusing. Though he had never forgotten. He was taunting her, mocking her, humiliating her, avenging even the smallest refusal. The slightest disobedience.

"Ah, yes…" amusement rang in his voice, a sneer played on his lips. "She can only enter this place as a whore. That is, of course, if she hasn’t completely lost her mind already."

Geta stepped forward, towering over Helena.

"Or has she found herself another patron?" the Emperor scoffed, making her skin prickle, her knees tremble, her shoulders tense to keep from shrinking away. "Perhaps she has even taught you how to properly please noble men?"

Helena flinched as if Geta had struck her. Her face twisted in disgust. Anger flared in her chest, scorching her from within. Through clenched teeth, she hissed:

"Do not dare speak of my mother like that!"

Helena stepped forward, dangerously close, nearly colliding with him. In that moment, she did not care who he was. Did not care what Geta could do to her. A storm raged inside her, demanding to tear him apart.

But Geta only smirked.

"My defiant little bird," his voice was almost gentle. "Rage, scream… But you are still here."

He did not retreat.

"Standing before me," his voice dropped lower, barely a whisper, but full of command. "And soon… soon you will understand before whom you must kneel."

His fingers barely brushed against a strand of her hair, but Helena jerked away.

Geta did not blink. Did not flinch.

He simply watched her—with the same hungry, merciless interest as a predator gazing at prey already caught in its snare…

On their last meeting before the breakup, the night enveloped the palace in a sticky darkness, like an old heavy cloak. The air was thick and damp, saturated with the scent of decaying rose petals that had fallen onto the marble floor. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls of the chambers, the night song of crickets sounded. But here, in the corridors, everything was too quiet. A silence filled with rare, unsteady breaths, mixed with the nervous echo of bare footsteps against the icy marble.

Geta walked ahead, tightly gripping Helena’s tiny fingers in his palm. Her skin was warm but damp with fear, and when he pulled her harder, her fingers trembled in his grasp. He squeezed her hand so tightly that her thin knuckles turned slightly white. Helena felt that his palm was hot but sweaty—whether from tension or the heat of the summer night, she couldn’t tell. She felt uneasy, but she didn’t try to pull away. Everything inside her tightened as they moved forward. The corridors stretched into long, echoing tunnels, the marble beneath their feet was freezing, and each of her careful steps made a faint slapping sound. Sometimes Helena stumbled, catching her foot on the rough edges of the tiles, but Geta didn’t even slow down, continuing to pull her along. The girl glanced around fearfully, pressing her chin against the hem of her light night tunic.

"Geta..." Her voice broke into a whisper, filled with fear. But he didn’t answer. He only pulled her along more insistently.

His gaze was wild, burning. Expectant. Like a child who had finally gotten hold of the promised toy. They slid like shadows through the dark corridors, hearing only their own breathing and the dull pounding of their hearts. Helena tried to step more quietly, but her bare feet sometimes caught cold droplets of water that had dripped from vases standing against the walls. She shuddered but did not stop. Geta led her forward—persistent, determined.

When they finally stepped into the garden, the air filled with the heavy scent of blooming jasmine. Geta’s father, the emperor himself, sat behind a stone table, thoughtfully pouring wine from one cup to another. The emperor lazily turned the goblet in his hand, letting the dark liquid trickle down the edges, leaving thin red streaks on the marble surface. He didn’t drink—he played with the wine, like a man who was in no hurry. Beside him stood a tray of fruit—overripe figs, split in half, dripped sticky juice onto the silver, while a handful of grapes, already touched by dark spots, looked forgotten.

Opposite him stood General Acacius—stern, upright, his face tense.

Geta and Helena hid behind one of the massive columns, concealed in the dim light. Their breathing became quieter. Geta could feel her trembling beside him, but he didn’t look at Helena. He only looked at his father.

"Geta will become emperor," the ruler’s voice was low, lazy, but there was steel in it. "And he needs a worthy wife. Your daughter. A good match."

"She is only ten!" Acacius exclaimed.

The emperor smirked, taking a lazy sip of wine that stained his lips.

"And my eldest twin is fourteen." He paused. "They can marry when your girl reaches the proper age. Time flies fast, General. You understand what kind of alliance we will create, don’t you?"

Helena felt the ground beneath her feet cease to be solid. The world suddenly became unstable, like a reflection in a pond after a stone was thrown into it. Her thoughts scattered, and each breath came with difficulty, as if the air had turned thick, heavy like honey. The words spoken by her father and the emperor echoed in her mind, their meaning seeping into her heart, leaving cold splinters. This was not a conversation about her—this was a deal. Without her will, without her consent. Her fate, sculpted by foreign hands, now stood before her like a locked door with no way out.

Geta looked pleased, unshaken. He was calm, as if he had known about this all along. But Helena’s world was crumbling. A sharp, tormenting fear rose in her chest—fear of the future, of something inevitable, something she did not want. She had never thought about marriage, much less imagined herself next to Geta. He was her friend...

Her fingers trembled as she instinctively grasped the edge of her nightgown, clutching the thin fabric until her knuckles turned white. Marriage. The word that had once seemed distant suddenly became a nightmare, a trap from which there was no escape.

Her vision darkened. She didn’t know what to say, how to react. She looked at Geta—at his indifferent face with a smirk, at his gaze, which was not cruel but impenetrable. Did he really think this was normal? That her life could be decided so easily, without her consent?

But I... I'm still a child... I’m only... A scream wanted to break free, but her voice refused to obey.

"And yet, I say no."

Geta tensed. His nostrils flared, and his fingers on Helena’s hand clenched so tightly that she let out a thin whimper. He heard her, but he did not loosen his grip.

"Helena... is not suitable," Acacius’s voice was firm, but there was caution in it. "Her mother... is merely—"

"A prostitute," the emperor lazily finished, savoring the taste of the word as if swallowing tart, spoiled wine. "And you want to say she is unworthy of my son?"

Geta didn’t understand. He heard the words but could not grasp their meaning. How can they refuse? How can they say ‘no’ to him?

"Stupid," the emperor waved his hand dismissively. "Elena is beautiful, smart. Her father is my best commander. Don't you want your daughter to become an empress? My son likes your girl, so let this union be beneficial."

"Helena is not a match for the future emperor," Acacius said slowly, his voice becoming firmer. He was defending himself.

And Helena was not breathing. Her heart pounded so hard she heard it in her ears. Her skin burned with heat, then turned cold, covered in goosebumps. A sticky fear rose from her chest, wrapping around her throat.

"Wait..." she exhaled in a whisper, but Geta did not hear. He heard only one thing: rejection. Dirty, humiliating, cutting deep into his soul.

He could not remain silent any longer.

With a sudden jerk, Geta stepped out from behind the column, clenching his fists. His face was ablaze with anger.

"Why?!" His voice was loud, strained, almost childish in its wounded pride. "How dare you?!"

Acacius turned sharply. And at that very moment, he saw his daughter. Helena.

Her eyes were huge, black with terror. Tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto the collar of her nightgown. She pressed herself against the column, trying to disappear from all of this, but her hand clutched at her shoulder, where red marks from Geta’s fingers were imprinted.

"Helena," her father’s voice became soft, almost frightened. He stepped toward her, but she did not move. Her lips trembled.

"She is mine!" Geta exclaimed even louder.

The Emperor lazily lifted his gaze. The wine in his cup swayed slightly.

"How interesting…" he smirked.

"Emperor," the general bowed his head. "My decision remains unchanged. If you allow…"

Acacius did not wait any longer. Gently but firmly, he took his daughter by the hand and led her out of the garden. They walked in silence until the palace walls hid them from prying eyes. Only then did the general stop, kneeling before her, placing his hands on her small, trembling shoulders.

"Helena…" his voice was low, warm, but tired. "Forgive me. I lied… but only to protect you. You were never supposed to be there. That wretch…"

The girl lifted her eyes to him, and they filled with tears once more. She sobbed, her breath unsteady, her lips quivering.

"You… you said it…" her voice was barely audible. "And I believed you… even though I knew…"

The general carefully clasped her hands in his—firmly, but gently. He lowered his head as if trying to hide his exhaustion and slowly ran his hand through her disheveled hair.

"Sometimes, a lie is the only thing that can save," he spoke slowly, as if weighing every word. "You are always my girl; nothing else matters. Do you understand?"

Helena sobbed louder, burying her face in his shoulder. The general embraced her, sheltering her with his strong arms, as if protecting her from the entire world.

"I am here," he whispered. "And no one will harm you. As long as I live. I promise."

Helena took a deep breath, clutching his clothes tighter in her small fingers. She knew this moment wouldn’t change everything. But in her father’s embrace, the fear receded for just a moment. And that was enough.

A few hours later, they left the palace.

And then, years passed.

Geta rarely saw Helena, but rumors about her spread throughout Rome. He heard them.

She danced like a goddess. She was called the Sun of Rome, its light—for her kindness. They said her laughter was like the chime of spring, that her smile illuminated anyone near her. And she became something he could not have, though long ago, he had decided she belonged to him alone.

But even the sun could not hide from the gazes that followed her everywhere. Geta heard the stories—of her grace, of her gentle voice that could melt even hearts carved from stone. He imagined her—surrounded by hundreds of admirers, flatterers, hungry eyes. Every time he thought of someone else daring to look at her, his fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms, leaving painful marks. He could not allow this to continue.

And because of this, he wanted her even more.

And because of this, his obsession grew, like a black, poisonous flower.

Helena was the only thing he could not take. And the only thing for which he was ready to crush Rome.

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

My AO3^ My Tiktok^

#emperor geta #emperor caracalla #the emperor #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator geta #gladiator movie #fanfik #gladiator ll #Publius Septimius Geta/Original Character(s)#Publius Septimius Geta #Publius Septimius Geta/Original Female Character(s)#Publius Septimius Geta/Original Female Character #Emperor Geta/Original Female Character(s)#geta and caracalla #Emperor Geta/OC #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta x femOC #emperor geta x oc

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theyanderespecialist · 1 year ago

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(Remake) Base Yandere Alastor Headcanons (Part1) Hazbin Hotel

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! Now That the show is out (The first four episodes) this is the remade Headcanons for Alastor, The Radio Demon! As we know more about his character. Though I feel we will learn more about him, so this is just part 1. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter here!]

(DISCLAIMER: Alastor is AroAce but in this headcanons and possible scenario and video (on YouTube) he is yandere which means love sick. So the love he has for the reader or listener is not romantic and is more obsession and possession than anything. Asexuals and Aromantic or anyone on those spectrums are NOT like this in reality! Thank you!

DISCLAIMER 2: Alastor is not yandere in canon. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life, and neither are demons! Please remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)

-Remade Base Yandere Headcanons With Alastor, The Radio Demon Part 1-

.Alastor he is not interested in sex or romance.

.He is a bit of a chaotic evil or neutral (It is up for debate)

.Though when he did see you, he got this strange feeling in his chest, a feeling he had NEVER felt before.

.It made him feel unnerve like you had done something to him.

.So he would start to watch you, like a hawk, having his shadow watch you at all times.

.Sooner or later he realizes that he wants you, not sexually or romantic. No.

.But he does want you to be HIS to own you and to have companionship with you

.To spend the rest of eternity together.

.It is very less romantic and more controlling and possessive.

.Where he very much sees you as a prize and as HIS And HIS ALONE!

.He would want to keep you though, and he would learn that sex and romantic acts help his cause of courting you to be his.

.He also does like that when he does these things for you it makes you happy.

.So even though sex and romance are not his thing, he does them for you! cause they make you happy.

(Mid-headcanon disclaimer: Asexuals can choose to have sex and physically enjoy it (Sex is a physical act and anyone can do it regardless of attraction) Asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction. Choosing to have sex while on the ace spectrum is being sex favorable. And you can still choose to do romantic acts as an aromantic. Asexuality is a spectrum. Aromantic I am not 100 percent sure how that works but I know that Aromantic can still want to have a life partner and or closeness to other people just without the romantic parts, now! Back to headcanons!)

.He does want you to be happy and content with him and he is willing to do those things cause of his twisted version of what is, for him. That is the closest he will ever feel to romance.

.Of course, he is a yandere so there are some toxic traits as well.

.Such as he is a tad bit controlling and very manipulative.

.Using his charm and affection to manipulate you to want only him.

.And also manipulate you from being near anyone who could try and trick you into being with them.

.Cause let's be for real, Alastor has a bit of an ego and he for sure is confident that he is the best option for you.

.That he is the only one that is good enough for you.

.So there is no chance that lesser demons will be able to woo you.

.But he knows that you, his sweet darling, could be manipulated and tricked into being with another demon or WORSE giving your soul to another demon.

.Speaking of which, he will very much make a contract with you for your soul there is no way he is going to let that chance to have you bound to him and where he Will QUITE LITERALLY OWNS YOU!

.So yeah, be ready for that.

.He will of course not have it be a normal contract, but instead a marriage contract where you will be made his spouse.

.That way you belong to him. And also, will be his life partner.

.Still, he would have your soul, so it would not matter what you do, you will be his spouse FOREVER!

.Now back to how else he would be as a yandere! He is beyond PETTY.

.If he had rivals (Which he does not consider to be rivals) he would be SO Petty with them.

.Always showing them and you, how much better of a partner he could be and how pathetic they are!

.He is willing to humiliate them.

.Though he does have a bit of a possessive jealous side of him.

.If someone was to try and kiss you or touch you? Well, he is going to rip them from limb to limb.

.He would take sick pleasure in destroying anyone who would DARE To defile you with even something as small as kissing your cheek or holding your hand!

.It is unforgivable.

.Though he fully outright denies being the jealous type. (He may even gaslight you into believing he is not the jealous type)

.He loves to cook for you, and will slowly condition you to eating deer meat.

.Do not worry he is not going to give you a bloody dead deer right away. He will cook it for you.

.It makes him feel connected to you and feels a stronger bond and closeness to you when he cooks you a meal.

.He may even teach you to cook, another bonding experience.

.Though I am sorry vegans and vegetarians he is going to make meat for you and most likely trick you into liking it. He just would he is a cannibal he is for sure not going to let you eat like that!

.Side note he may even take bites of you, maybe even during sex.

.And lastly, for part one, I will go deeper into other things and dynamics he would be a bit more okay with you touching him.

.THOUGH He prefers to initiate physical touch with you, as he would still tense up if you caught him off guard, but he would not fling you away. More just accepts it as he is a little uncomfortable. (I am pretty sure he is a touch-adverse AroAce and is only fine if HE is the one touching!)

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Part one is done, I hope that you all enjoyed this and, stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 months ago

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"Like there was no tomorrow." CH.10 (Part1)—Daryl Dixon.

Chapter summary: You wake up to find out you're about to have another baby and that maybe your brother was just another ghost in a house that was never a home and you all never a family.

A/N: It's 28th here in Peru, my birthday so I wanted to share the penultimate chapter of a story that has become so dear to me. It's not the best but I appreciate all the love you gave it. Thank u so much from the bottom of my heart. Writing has truly saved my life and your likes and comments showed me that I'm improving and they brighten my day, so thank u♥ I love you all! (Sorry for any mistakes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Small pains scattered throughout your body slowly gather in one place, your senses returning as you open your eyes while taking a deep breath after feeling as if someone had held your head underwater for too long, the side of your stomach throbbing. The silent seconds are broken by the pain emitting between your parted lips, and that wakes up the person sleeping on the uncomfortable couch next to you, but your cramped muscles begin to relax when Sam sits down beside you, her hands holding your shoulders to keep you in place, teaching you how to breathe steadily, your head spinning with the violence of a hurricane.

You try to talk but your voice comes out muffled, as if you haven't spoken in days and the walls inside your throat are fused together. You clear your throat and the fog of confusion dissipates with the seconds and she smiles in relief. But since Sami has always dared to be more honest with her emotions, no matter how overwhelming they may be, her eyes fill with tears.

“Hey, it’s good you woke up. You were taking your time.”

You smile back, even though fear fills you: especially the fear of having put April in danger, all while remembering the cold of a knife sinking into you.

“And April, Sam? Daryl?” Your voice cracks at the end, your own eyes crystallizing with the cruel memory. “Austin?”

Sam coos you, helping you drink some water first.

“This is your fourth day here, babe, and April and Daryl are fine, everyone is fine. No one was hurt that afternoon. And yes, Austin was there. I saw you leave with them, but I guess the most surprising thing was that Aeris was nearby after she disappeared these weeks or she heard the whistle you and your brother used and came flying right away, although even she knew that wasn't your whistle calling her.” Sam laughs in relief, letting go of all traces of the fear she felt. “That damn bird is so smart. She followed you all the way to the mine while I came back here. Daryl had just arrived with his group and he just… he went wild, and in less than ten minutes everyone was on their way there.” She exhales, but the shock is still lingering. “What happened back there, (Y/N)? Because since everyone came back, Daryl hasn't been very nice to your brother. In fact, Austin has had to stay in the community cells, and not by his own choice.”

You swallow, and it's less painful now, but you don't want to say you found Bobby, not when Sam was still having nightmares about him.

“Austin was with the wrong people, that's all.”

Sam nods, unconvinced.

“Daryl’s been living here, nesting on that couch like April told him a couple of times, but only she could convince him to come over to the house to eat and rest, even though he ends up coming back. He’s probably on his way here so let’s give you something to eat as we wait.”

The yogurt still lingers sweetly on your lips even after Sam leaves to take care of April overnight, and between the visit from the community doctor announcing that the wound is healing properly, you take a second alone to rub your tired face with hands that still shake as you remember what happened. You block out the sight of the semi–dark room as if that would help you forget the rest, but your racing heart can’t seem to find a way to calm itself. The fire from the candles flickers, breathing in the oxygen around them to stay alive, just the same way you do, and even though the pain still stings, it's all a reminder that you are still alive for another day.

“Hey…”

You move your hands away to see Daryl standing in the doorway of the small and warm room, but he needs a moment to accept what his eyes see. It’s promising for him to see how your tired gaze still lights up when you see him, even right through your pain and the restless nights of unconsciousness, but Daryl can also see the knife in your side and still feel the heat leaving your body to turn you into a cold, empty shell.

“Hi.”

You wave your hand in the air, almost lazily as he finally dares to come closer, and Daryl does his best to smile in relief as well when his heart no longer feels like someone’s squeezing it, aching and preventing him from breathing correctly. The strands of hair on his face block the entire view, but his blue eyes water the moment he sits on the edge of the bed, half his body leaning gently against yours, barely touching you, but needing to feel your warmth. Daryl buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hand holding your cheek in a touch so light it’s like sliding your fingers over a feather. One of your hands rests on his head and his messy locks, the other clinging to his bare arm, but when you feel his tear on your skin, it breaks you down, too.

“I know. I know.” You choke on the words even if they are a whisper, because death has never felt so close before. “I’m sorry.”

Daryl takes a moment to realize that you're there, and that your body no longer feels like it's losing heat.

“Don’ be.” He straightens as he tries to sniff the tears away, but his body looms over you, one hand braced against the bed as the other caresses your face, nervous fingers still on your cheek. Daryl sighs, so deeply the sound fills the room, but your tired smile is a reminder that you are alive, that you’re still there with him and your daughter. “M’ sorry. S' jus'… m’ fuckin’ tired of almost losin’ ya.”

You smile a little, letting out a small, tired sound, your hand holding his as his fingers still move across your cheek, but knowing some things slipped out of your control, unmanageable, almost catastrophic and irreparable.

“Hey, you know your daughter doesn’t like bad words.”

However, his serious expression doesn’t change as Daryl feels the weight of having lived with that beautiful but terrifying secret growing in your belly those days, that secret that is about six weeks old by then, with you unaware that you were not only carrying April by the hand that afternoon, but a baby who went everywhere with you, too. Daryl considers whether to wait or say it, although he knows there will be no right time to give you news that could be devastating, but the words Daryl desperately wants to say are like torrent stronger than him, like a storm, and he, a little house being battered and swept away by that natural force.

“Peach, yer pregnant.”

Your hand caressing his stops dead in its tracks, and it seems to match your heart, which, for a moment, you don't feel beating in your chest as you frown, so hard it hurts. The word pregnancy had always felt distant to you when your relationship ended, becoming something like a myth, something extinct that wouldn't even be found at the bottom of the sea, something from a life long gone. But now, you swallow, and your sore throat hurts bad again, which is why you don't try to formulate words, that and because your mind has gone blank.

"Uh?"

Daryl chuckles: a low, deep sound. He’s scared too and yet, his mind didn’t do more than show him endless possible lives alongside this child, showing him only happiness that became a fervent wish, as if he could already see the baby in his head and that he or she would come to complete the happiness you two were experiencing thanks to April, making that secret dream he had in the past come true (the one that seemed senseless and crazy after the world had gone to hell)

“Yeah, yer brother did the test on ya.”

You nod, but not understanding a thing.

“How far along?”

“‘bout 6 weeks.”

You gulp.

“And is the bab…”

Daryl can see the question you're unable to ask.

"The baby's fine, Peach. Austin an’ the community doctor said s’ still too small an’ the knife didn't pierce the sac around."

You feel the nerves rising from your stomach up.

“Okay, but I think I'm gonna throw up.” You try to turn to the side, but the pain sinking into your belly stops you like Daryl's hands on your waist and shoulder to hold you in place, just like the whimper of pain you smother between your lips that doesn’t let you go very far. But suddenly, the entire world, now small and repopulated by a few people maybe, feels even smaller, and you feel unable to breathe, like a balloon that pops and runs out of air. “Oh, fuck, what did we do?”

Daryl watches you close your eyes and cover them with a hand as a devastating sorrow washes over you, trying to prevent the tears forming at the edges. For a moment, he lets you take the news in, but Daryl can’t go too long when he knows this pain is heavier than the one on your side, so he lovingly removes your hand from your eyes, his gaze gentle on yours.

“We should have been more careful but I don' think s' fair for us to feel so bad 'bout this lil' thing that is being cooked in yer belly now, peach, not when this feels so damn good, y'know? I mean, how bad can all this be if I can see our second kid in ma head and she looks completely happy with us.”

You sigh, hating that you go off on a tangent.

“I can't believe you said cooked.”

Daryl smiles softly because the thoughts keep floating around in his mind, until he stops smiling, reminding himself that keeping the baby is your decision only, and that he would never force you into anything.

“She's growin' there but she's inside yer body, Peach, an' if ya decide s' better not to have her I'll accept yer decision, 'kay? We still got time.”

It's totally confusing. It's like hearing your own voice in your head, but as if it's coming from other people at the same time, and you can't understand any of them, or even know if they're telling you what to do, what to choose, and if there's actually a right answer or not. Would it be selfish to bring a baby into the world knowing the dangers she may be exposed to? She. Amid all of Daryl's words trying to respect the fact that you are and would be the one carrying the baby and the one at risk, that she in particular strikes you, but it’s endearing hearing him say that because Daryl Dixon, surely without realizing it, had become a girl's daddy.

"Why do you think she's a she?"

He shrugs.

"M' sure as hell of that as ya an' Aeris."

You frown in surprise, but a smile appears on your lips.

"This is the first time I've heard you call my baby girl by her actual name. Do you love her now?"

Daryl snorts to hide his feelings, but his eyes had become so honest and transparent that you can see that he does have feelings for Aeris. Not absolute love, but something good, something deep. A kind of respect, even.

“She led me to ya an' our lil' girl but I ain't sayin' I love her out loud.”

You try to laugh, but the sound turns into a silent pain in your stomach and ends up becoming a sigh as thousands of thoughts invade your mind: the good and the bad, the happy, the sad, the heartbreaking, between being selfish and risking her life before the baby even has a chance to be born. Anything can happen: another knife, a bullet, a bite.

“I’m scared to death now.”

Daryl nods, understanding.

“I know, Peach. M’ terrified, too.”

“Do you really think it would be right to have her or him?”

Daryl shrugs again, and it's hard to do it this time given all the reasons to do it and not to do it, but he tries to remain calm even if he hears that it all ends there.

“Dunno, but this community seems safe an’ we could raise ‘em both here. Rick had Judy an’ I know she wasn't in his plans but now neither he nor Carl nor the rest could imagine their lives without her.” He swallows, his own throat closing with fear, with a possibility he can't rule out yet. “What happened to Lori… hell, we didn't have doctors back in the prison but there are some good ones here and they'll be able to help us if somethin’ bad happens.”

There are ways everything could go wrong, you know and Daryl knows it, too—the baby dying, you dying, both of you dying—a percent that always existed, in the shadows, between all the happy moments.

“But maybe Austin ca—”

“No.” Daryl tenses up as he shakes his head and his expression hardens, his deep voice pronouncing that word dangerously, showing you his clearly refusal while removing his hand from your cheek. “No. He put ya an' April in danger. He won't stay around.”

Your expression falls.

“Austin is my family too, Daryl.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, offended to the core.

“Is he? Is he after what he put ya through? Ya were stabbed ‘cause of him and ya could have died. What would I have said to April then, uh? To Sam?”

You know Austin is no longer someone you can trust, but your love for him was a little greater than your better judgment.

“I know. But he’s not that bad, be can’t be. That’s why I need to know what happened all this time. Even if Jeff was not my father, he said Austin is my brother.”

Daryl laughs, a low, short sound, full of sarcasm that spills over at the edges.

“That piece of shit ain't yer brother. Yer brother wouldn't take ya to the slaughterhouse.”

You laugh too, humorless, a weak but mocking sound.

“That’s unfair and you know it because you did the same for your brother, don't forget. Merle wasn't that innocent, and I know some shitty things happened to him too, but Merle was still a bad influence who even put your life at risk on several occasions, and you stayed with him, you chose him.”

Daryl backs away a little bit as if your words were sabers and he had to dodge them, but there's no way to avoid being hurt because the world seems to be filled with them and there's no escape.

"Ya said ya weren't upset 'bout it anymore, I thought ya had forgiven me."

Your confusion weighs on you and pushes down the juncture between your brows, until you understand your own words.

"No. That's not what I meant, Daryl." You rub your face with one hand, trying to remove any trace of the aftermath of those words that came with an expression that wasn't promising. “I’m not holding it against you for choosing Merle because I still think he loved you a little bit, even more so at the end in a somewhat twisted way. What I’m saying is that even if our brothers are fucked up, we can’t just… shit, at least I need to know Austin’s whole story, okay? And if he’s trash and a danger to everyone here we’ll send him away, but if not, at least he can stay to help with the baby or with me because I really, really don’t want to die.”

Daryl nods, breathing normally again when your words remove the weight from his chest.

“Okay, m’ sorry. S’ late an’ ya should sleep.” He sighs, a little scared to touch you again. “I’ll bring April in the morning so try to sleep now.”

You can see he’s about to move to the uncomfortable single sofa, so you move away just a little bit before the pain stops you, nodding towards the space in the bed.

“Yer bossy even without words.” Daryl chuckles softly but silently loving that you want to be close to him too, so he lies on his right side, his arm flexed like a pillow so he doesn't have to use yours, his free hand finding yours on the blanket resting on your waist. “Is that a maybe?”

You look to the side to find his gaze that holds a bit of hope.

“About the baby?”

“Yeah.”

In the weeks you've lived in the community, you've seen a couple of babies who had clearly been born during that new life—and when you look at him, you know Daryl is terrified of something happening to you, but now he can’t hide that sparkle in his eyes, and hell, once you imagined living this moment with him.

“It’s a maybe.”

He nods.

Morning comes faster than expected, as if the hours were moving at supersonic speed now that you're awake, because life seemed like a slow torment even with your eyes closed: as if proof that sleep and being unconscious weren't the same thing, your body still felt stiff even after lying in bed, your head ached after lying on a pillow. But when your gaze follows the sound of footsteps entering the room, your eyes meet April's, and although her gaze becomes broken because the fear of losing you still lingers in her chest, the relief on her face eclipses everything else, the entire world along with your fear and the shock of knowing she's your niece.

Daryl lets go of her little hand when they stop at the edge of the bed, your smile matching her as he lifts her up without any problem, her small legs flexing on the mattress as she tries not to hurt you when April lies her body on yours. Your hands hold her against you, but the fleeting expression of pain doesn't go unnoticed by Daryl as she straightens, his hand on the top of her head.

"Hey, be careful, okay, baby? Mom's still recoverin'."

“Sorry, daddy.” April nods at him, her eyes searching yours afterward. "Sorry, mommy."

"It's okay, love." You chuckle, soft because the dizziness still lingers, your hands cupping her face. "Have you been okay? Auntie Sam said you've been taking good care of Dad these days."

Daryl snorts when April nods, proud of herself.

"Daddy's been nesting on that ugly couch." She points to that uncomfortable spot. "But Uncle Rick said that's normal because Daddy's your Velcro husband. Is that a good thing, mama?"

“Oh… yeah. It is, baby.” You laugh a little shy, noticing the way Daryl looks away (feeling the same as you) as he scratches his hair, which is always a bit messy, but a little longer now than it was when you all first arrived in Alexandria. You smile at your daughter as you push a strand of hair out of her face, the hair she refused to tie in a bun just because she wants to be just like her daddy. She's yours and Daryl's. No matter if April is related to you by blood or not, she's always been yours more than your brother's or Ruby's. “Have you played with Judy these days?”

April nods again, completely happy.

“Carl says I'm her big sister.”

Your smile falters, catching Daryl's gaze in yours before you look away, but you tell yourself you have to talk to your brother because it's time for his story and April's to find the light.

It takes you a while to recover, immersing yourself in books and conversations with those who became your family, until eventually the wound heals, and your skin regenerates, leaving a raw scar that hurts when you touch it but that is proof that you survived, that you are strong enough to endure the adversities of this new life. You, who lived an ordinary life but not so ordinary at the same time, now walk down the cold hallway in that row of cells in that basement that seems to have no end while trying to figure out what you'll do about your own brother's life.

Each step you take shortens the empty path, until a whistling sound fills the place and your world. You don't respond the call, but when you stop in front of his cell, you see him, tired and sitting on that uncomfortable mat, his back against the wall, smiling as if you had just returned home.

"I've done that with the few who have come here, hoping one of them would be you." He chuckles sadly. "I'm glad to see you're okay, baby."

His affectionate nickname hits you in the heart where you still save a little love for him, but there isn't even a fleeting hint of joy on your face. The age that separate you from him seem so few now, making you feel the oldest, the most focused child, the wisest, the smartest, the strongest (all that he always was before your eyes)

“I just need you to tell me what the hell happened all this time, from the time you disappeared until now.”

Austin nods, straightening.

“Okay. I don’t want to make you stay on your feet too long, so here goes...” He sighs, trying to shake off for a second all the guilt that’s been with him all those years, even though it’s impossible. “About April: A friend from the hospital invited me to a party on that side of the town your boyfriend told you was trash. It was true. I was drunk and so was Ruby, and I’m not going to tell you what happened. The next morning I got out of there and didn’t think about it again until she showed up with a baby barely a few months old in her arms, saying she was mine. April was sick, so I took care of her, but I had to make sure she was mine... and she was. I took charge, even though I didn’t say anything to Dad like a coward, because I lived trying to make him proud and happy like a lapdog. I left because I met the wrong people, (Y/N).” Austin looks you in the eyes, but you feel in your stomach that you’re not going to like what comes next. “I needed the money, and they needed a doctor to harvest the organs, you know what that means. When I refused to continue doing it and they mentioned your name, they gave me two options: either I disappeared from their sight or they would do it for me. April was little so Ruby and I left. Involving Dad as a police would have put you in danger, and you were more important to me. We started over for a long time on the other side of the country with me being just a friend. I rented them a house and took care of them as best I could until that night began. I got them out of there, and we survived in the woods but Ruby could never sleep peacefully with me there.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, with the fear of discovering that Austin was never who you thought closing it painfully.

“Did you do something to Ruby the night you two met?”

The silence seems like an eternity until he speaks again.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, but I want to believe not.”

“You hurt her somehow, Austin.”

His gaze falls with the weight of his shame.

“I guess so. Ruby left and took April, and I didn't hear from her again until I saw you at the lake with her, calling herself Dixon.”

“So how did you end up with Bobby?”

His gaze returns to yours quickly, silently pleading for your forgiveness as he remembers the burns on your arms.

“Coincidence. Along the way, we continued meeting people until I discovered what they did to those poor women who unfortunately crossed their path.”

You frown as you taste the sour of hatred for Bobby on the tip of your tongue, but more so for your brother.

“And you did nothing?”

Austin shakes his head, but guilt and shame don't allow him to excuse himself because even he knows there aren't enough words in the world to justify that he stayed with a madman who enjoyed make those women run for their lives, knowing he never gave them the slightest chance to fight: they were dead from the moment they met Bobby.

"I know I'm not your father's daughter. Do you know anything about that?"

His own brow furrows, his eyes widening in surprise.

"How do you know that?"

"That doesn't matter to you."

Austin can see a different gleam in your eyes that were always warm. Something cold now, something that scares him, a kind of threat he'd never seen when you always treated your family with so much love.

“When Mom was admitted to the hospital, she told me she'd never loved Dad, that she'd gotten pregnant and my dad's father had bought her from hers. Grandpa was good, like you, but he didn't have the strength to protect her, so he agreed to the marriage. That's why he always stayed even more close to you when Mom confessed that you weren't Dad's daughter. Dad always suspected it until Mom told him and asked him to please take care of you. She never loved Dad, but she loved you, (Y/N). You were always her true love.”

You feel tears welling up at the edges of your eyes at the memory of her, but you refuse to let them fall.

“You knew Jeff always hated me for it.”

“Yes.”

It wasn't your brother's responsibility to take care of you, but you feel the monstrous resentment toward him, (growing right alongside your resentment toward that woman you called mom) and the way they never protected you from every cold glance from Jeff. The feeling inside you is heartbreaking, knowing that you were never properly protected as a child, that the supposed love she felt for you didn't protect you from every cruel word from the man who lived under the same roof as you, from every sign of hatred, from every night you had to lock your bedroom door because of that fear that he would come in and suffocate you with a pillow, which now didn't seem so far–fetched. She was weak and scared of Jeff just as Austin.

"Since you started talking, you haven't said my daughter even once because April is yours only by blood, but we already know that in your family, that's not enough to truly love." You sigh, as if that can forever let go of every bit of pain. "You're going to stay here until I can put this all in order, so get comfortable."

You try to leave, but Austin stops the pace you're trying to take, calling your name.

“How did you find out about Dad?”

“I found Jeff at a so–called sanctuary for people a long time ago, and he told me everything.” Your gaze bores into his, but Austin can feel the coldness of your eyes in every corner of his body. “He dared to threaten my daughter’s life when I politely asked him not to. Jeff refused, so I killed him.”

There’s no emotion in your voice, and yet, each word is like a knife plunging into his core.

"I see. You had to break him before he broke you. He taught us that."

You walk away.

Your grandfather used to tell you that you over–felt everything around you, (feeling things before they happened, before they even began, or when everything is about to end, like an extra sense you were born with) and you used to think that was a problem, but now you know it’s also what helped you and your family. Over–feeling taught you to truly love and protect your real family.

When you reach the first step and leave the basement, Daryl stands up from that chair in that empty kitchen after waiting for you: however, he’s too good of a hunter and he sees the smallest details, those tiny things that go unnoticed by everybody’s eyes, but not in his: not when it comes to you. Now, as Daryl holds you in his arms, he knows there's some revelatory truth that's tearing you apart, but he knows too that just like the wound that became a scar on your body, you just need time to heal.

You hold him too for a long while, until the need of spilling the whole truth about yours and his little girl makes you separate from him, because you are tired of secrets, because secrets are not pillars to make a real family.

"I need to tell you something about April."

@fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue @minnie-min @carbonnite-copy @walkingtalkingsomething

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #dad!daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction

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haikyuuusimp · 15 days ago

Text

Not good enough -Oikawa Tooru

part1 mlist

Chapter 2

“AHH—WAIT! Y/N! Don’t go—lemme walk you home!”

you turned around halfway through the door with that same little smirk.

“no need. i can walk by myself.”

“no, i insist. there are creepy weirdos out there. i won’t feel right unless i walk with you.”

“oh please,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your jacket properly this time. “trust me, no one would dare.”

“ahhh, fine then,” he sighed with a hand on his hip, pretending like he lost the argument. “come on. let me walk you halfway. then you can act like you're strong and independent.”

“i am strong and independent.”

“ahh alright fine,” you said, sighing. “come, walk me home. then you go straight home.”

“aww, y/n-chan cares about me~”

“ohhh shut up.”

The walk was easy.

You really meant all that.

“All what?”

“Everything you said.”

“...Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Oikawa’s heart was beating so fast. He hadn’t felt this kind of warmth in a long, long time.

You talked about your passions, volleyball, and what you’re gonna do after high school. It’s been so long since Oikawa had a normal, calm conversation with a girl who wasn’t fangirling, giggling, or asking for a selfie.

You were walking through the quiet dead of the night, cool wind brushing by.

“I haven’t had a conversation like this in a long time,” he said after a while.

“Like what?”

“With a girl who wasn’t giggling and asking for my autograph.”

You laughed softly.

Then you looked up at the sky.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked.

“The stars… It’s beautiful tonight.”

But Oikawa wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at you.

“Yeah… breathtaking,” he muttered under his breath, not sure if you even heard.

But your eyes shifted, and your lips curved a little.

“I know you’re looking at me, Oikawa.”

You smiled that little smirk again. Oikawa’s heart skipped a beat.

You walked a little further. “Yep, this is me. My stop.”

Oikawa didn’t want you to go. He wanted you. He wanted to listen to all your passion. He didn’t want to let you go.

You both stood there, staring at each other in the dead of the night, the moonlight shining brightly above.

“So… I was thinking, umm… maybe I can see you, like after school… like, uh, outside,” he said quietly, “if you want.”

He was blushing so hard, you could see it even in the dim light.

You smiled and said, “Text me, Oikawa.”

He watched you walk away, heart pounding like crazy, the night feeling a little warmer now.

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tranceinnumerabletabs · 5 months ago

Text

When Johnny Comes Back pt13

I'd like to mention some of these 'titles' were from AO3 and I'm sorry for how some of these sound. I know a lot of these were truly bonkers and some were character-specific. Y'all better like them they're legit funny at times AND have plausible deniability. Also, just like...2 hours after posting part 12, I REACHED 100 REBLOGS!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sorry it took so long! I guess I hit a writer's block.

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part12

“Poison Breaker. Affirmative Sir. Operation: Deep Infiltration. Whispers of the Damned.”

Huh…those sound familiar?

“Undercover assets. Trapper Keeper. The Art of Subtlety. Hotline.”

Those….are just titles of sites you’ve visited? You think. You don’t memorize the hundreds of sites you visit.

“Tactical Submission. All That’s Said In Low Light. The Captain’s Private Orders. All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit. Silent Weapons, Soft Target. To Drive a Man to Madness. Covert Rendezvous.”

Soap looks confused, which isn’t a good look right now. ‘What’s all this?’ He seems to say as he looks at you. You look confused as well.

You Don't remember this as being a part of your research.

This Wasn't Part Of Your Research.

“Sir Yes Sir. Directive 69: Breach & Enter. Man In Uniform. Under the Hood: Sensitive Material. Bravo Six: Going Dark. Decompression Protocol. Advanced Recon: Close Quarters. Mask-On Compliance. Command Authority: At Ease.”

Johnny looked even more confused. That’s…a lot more than you showed him. You didn’t tell him about any of this and by the sounds of it it seems important.

“Low-Profile Insertion. Kylassified BBC. Private Briefing: The Captain’s Touch. The Alpha Lieutenant. Engagement Protocol.”

Wait. Alpha Lieutenant? that sounds so familiar to you.

“Explosive Affairs. Now You See ‘em, Now You Don’t. Help Me Out (Get Me Off).”

“Hen what’s this?” Soap whispers sharply to you.

“Someone to Bleed. Silent Takeover. Behind Enemy Lines (Barracks Edition). Black Ops Ships.”

Ships?

Ships??

SHIPSSS??

SHIIIIIIPPSSSS??!!

no please god no

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Modern Warfare Collection. C4 & Chill. Op Order: Stand to Attention.”

Soap looked worried at your panicked look.

'What are you hiding?'

“Slow Burn Deployment. Headcannon: Operator Edition. Cold War AU. Warzone AU. Infinite Warfare AU. Ship Week Prompts.”

“This isn’t what it looks like” you whisper back but it’s not very convincing when the words Cold War, Warzone and Warfare is coming out of Ross’ mouth

“Modern Warfare Drabbles. Modern Warfare Oneshots. Multi chapter AU Missions. Modern Warfare PWP. Kinktober: Advanced Warfare Edition. Fix-it-Fic: After Action Report.”

He’s literally reading your fucking fanfic history.

“Canon-Divergence ABO AU. WIP Modern Warfare 2.”

ABO?! fml that’s like the worst one?! What could be worse!?

“CoD x Reader."

tHaT wAsN't a fUcKiNg cHAllEnGe rOsS!!

"Reader Inserts: Classified Quarters. Modern Warfare Imagines.” Ross finishes as if he didn’t completely and utterly demolish your dignity in one fell swoop by reading your fanfic history right in front of Johnny

“Care to explain all that ma’am?” Ross asks innocuously Now, all three men turn towards you for answers, though Soap is still on your side, he wanted your explanation

You clear your throat, finding it suddenly dry. Was it always hot in here or was it just you?

“I….um…”

At the hesitation, Milton and Ross perk up “Those are just….fictional stories I like reading.” You vaguely say

“Hmm. That’s an awful lot of them military themed”

You nod hastily “yep!” You squeak “I’m just….really into it”

yeah I’m sure you are you whore

All three of them seem to scrutinize you under their gaze. The agents gaze spoke of suspicions and Soap’s never knew you were into that bonny

“So all of this is just a curiosity? You seemed to stay up late on these sites. All these titles are cause for suspicion in one way or another”

you doubt that but I guess they wouldn’t understand what some of these terms would be

“Y-yeah…the stories aren’t….focused on military stuff anyway it’s just….silly stories about the characters” you force out as you wish the ground would swallow you whole. They don’t even seem convinced as you experience an ego death right next to Soap. “It’s harmless! Honest!” You say, digging yourself into a deeper grave.

“Could you show us one of them” Milton challenges

I’d rather you shoot me but okay! You pull out your phone and go on AO3

“Lass what are you doing?” Soap whisper hisses at you, thinking it’s bad.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it” you whisper back. You try to find……nothing too weird. That shouldn’t be too hard right?

right?

You show him the beginning of some slow burn. Nothing crazy happens in the beginning of a slow burn right?

You all sit in silence as old ass men read fanfiction titles right fucking in front of you with varying expressions. But you only had one expression: Pain.

Soap looked like he wanted answers but is waiting till they leave “So they’re really just…..stories..?” Ross gruffs

“Yep! Nothing classified here!” You wheeze Ross of course decided to scroll all the way to the top before you could stop him and read the fucking tags you unwillingly flinch in embarrassment and take back your phone so he doesn’t seen any…..inappropriate tags….and you pray they didn’t. You look at your phone and Daymn these tags are pretty good but not something you’d show your parents. He…didn’t read them did he??

DID HE?

Milton doesn’t seem to notice and continues with the questions “so they’re unrelated to earlier searches?”

“YEP!” Your voice cracks

“Does your ’friend’ also have these….‘interests’”

“Uhhhh……maybe? I’m sure she’d like some of them”

Ross seemed to have enough “alright. Seems….harmless enough”

“Does your friend know anything about deeper searches or your husband’s occupation?” Milton checks again

husband

“U-um….she knows he’s in the military…” you dodge the fist part of the question but “And the searches?” Milton wasn’t having any of that

“I didn’t send her anything I know is classified” technically not a lie

“Did you tell her anything classified?”

“I never knew I even read anything bad! I was just curious”

please leave please leave please leave

They didn’t like that. But what could they do? They shoot Soap a look. He shoots one back, as if to say “leave it to me gentlemen”

The men nod “thank you both for your cooperation.” Ross grunts. They move to stand up and you relax slightly Ross straightens his tie as he talks “Be mindful of where you look and who you share it with. Curiosity could get you in serious trouble if you end up on the wrong side of a security breach“

“If you have any questions about classified material, there are legitimate channels.” Milton eyes you both.

pfff! ‘Legitimate Channels’?! If you wanted to watch hours of propaganda you’d watch marvel movies

Ross casually pockets his notebook filled with information the CIA couldn’t waterboard out you. They start to see themselves out but then-

“Hold it right there folks” Soap objects. The men turn to look at him. “Are ye gonna stop watching us? I’m not too keen on being monitored”

The men exchange glances “we’ll be in touch”

Soap doesn’t seem satisfied with that. Seems he still needs to….do things under your table and need their heads away.

“Aye. Aye. I Ken it’s yer jobs tae be cunts. I’m one myself” he reminds “but I’d like tae take a look at her ‘investigation’ myself and dinae want tae be watched”

Oh so that’s why

The men look at each other, straighten up, and try to make him understand “It’s not in our hands sergeant” Milton speaks “we can try to put in a good word. But we can’t make guarantees”

Soap thinks for a moment “aye, I shoulda known...Hmph. That’s alright gentlemen. I’ll just tell my captain and Laswell”

The men look even more serious “alright. I’m sure they’ll clear her name for you.” They start to see themselves out again but before they could fully leave, the older one, Ross turn his head back and says “It’s got to have you back sergeant” before finally leaving.

Both of you sigh in relief, the tension seeming to leave you both as you relaxed but neither of you are relaxed at all. Your dignity was in complete shambles, you had a lot to explain and Soap now had another mission as soon as he came back.

A long silence befalls both of you. Neither of you knowing what to say and needing to contemplate. You were there, reality crashing on you realizing how you’ve just stumbled into and Johnny? He’s now just had a new list of objectives to complete:

1. Interrogate you, why didn’t you tell him about those? are you hiding something from him? Have you been lying about what you know?

2. Tell Laswell and Price everything he knows and everything that happened. He already sent screenshots, they haven’t responded, and there’s been…..recent updates to suspicious activity he has to investigate.

3. Try to clear your name. But only if he’s concluded you deserved it. And he’s worried you didn’t deserve it. Those titles did sounded suspicious

4.Contact the shadow. How dare he talk to his wee bonny lass? Was it random? Was it bait? Was it targeted? Was it a part of something bigger he might not survive?

As both of you were processing the events, neither of you knew what to say. Soap braved a glance at you, you were looking right at him…wanting to speak but not knowing how to start. His eyes softened. How could he think anything malevolent of you? He’s sure you have an explanation. He put his signature teasing smile on his face.

“Husband eh? Looks like they made it official for us.” He jokes

You look surprised, before slowly cracking a small laugh and shaking your head. He smiles at the sight: you, on laughing at his antics on his bare chest. His solider brain impelled him from the side of his mind that he usually shut down when he came back to demand

To demand answers now.

But you were precious.

Too precious

But he had a job to do. His Call of Duty

“Lass” he clears his through and tries to keep his tone lighthearted as to not alarm you but the look in his eye was serious. “Care tae explain all tha’? Ye said ye told me everything”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks start heating up, you shove your face back into his chest, an action that would usually have his heart beating faster and his grin wider, but not now, cuz that’s MiGhTy sUsPiCioUs. His eyes grow even more serious. “What’s wrong bonny” his pet name sounds forced “are ye hiding’ something?”

You don’t seem to catch the weight of his tone, too engulfed in the absolute embarrassment of the events. Bad news. “Lass” he says through clenched teeth. “Care tae explain?” He fights the urge to grip your hair and force eye contact. He needs answers.

You catch on and snap your head up “I-i-it’s not what I-it l-l-looks like! I can explain!”

no you can't

oh god how am I going to explain I read smutty military fanfiction?! HE’S IN THE FUCKING MILITARY

“Ye said ye told me everything”

“I did!”

“Then what was all that? You didn’t show me all those.”

“I-I-I answered truthfully! Honest!”

“So all th’ was jus’ stories?” He asks, suspicious

“Yes! I promise!”

“About what?”

"Just….some..military stuff”

“Ye seemed eager tae make sure sheriff Sunburn and Deputy Mustache dinnae read it.” He presses

“It’s just….um….about the characters themselves. Like about lieutenants, soldiers, sergeants, mercenaries. Not about combat or battle….usually..”

So you’re learning about their means to an end? The average person doesn’t read hours of Mein Kampf, Das Kapital, The Art of War, The Turner Diaries etc for the writing style. So he scowls more as if that’s worse “an’ why would ye want tae know that?”

“Just……for fun..”

“Fer fun?”

“Hmm hmm” you force out.

Oh lord, if you’re listening, please help. I know we haven't always gotten along with my reading history and every thought I have when Johnny is shirtless but please!

“Then why don’t I have some ‘fun’ too? Give me your phone” he challenges, determined to find you out. Your eyes widen and your throat goes dry

oh lord please no

Your reaction seemed to confirm his suspicions and I look of betrayal and denial seeped into his face. You lied to him? You lied?! What were you plotting?

The look on his face broke your heart and you panicked more “I-i-it’s not bad! Honest! C'mon I need you on my side Johnny! You know I’d never do anything bad!”

“Honest?” He seemed to mock “well if ye wanna talk about honesty. Let’s talk about how ye went behind my back and learned everythin’ I’ve been trying tae hide from ye, only for you to end up being someone I’d fight against and ye won’t even let me not believe it!”

“Nononononono” you shake your head. Then. You sigh, defeated

“…..don’t laugh…”

Soap seemed to ease up at that.

“It’s…..uh…transformative works based on preexisting concepts made by regular civilians”

“Does it end with the army lads plantin’ a bomb or rescuin’ a kitten? I’m sure ‘The Captain’s Private Orders’ and ‘Operation Deep Infiltration’ sound like stories with happy endings. Next thing I see is you pitching’ American Sniper tae our wee Simon fer a bedtime story”

oh they have happy endings alright

You groan and place your hands in your hands “they’re not even about military bullshit! They’re about military video game characters!” You slip

“….stories…..about video game...military…” he mumbled to himself. Then…slowly, his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders drop and his face twist into disbelief

“No. fucking. way” he looks at you but there was no malice, making you foolishly relax as well “what?”

“Lass…”

“Johnny?”

“…were ye readin’ fanfiction?!” He yells in absolute disbelief!

“W-what! I-I-I”

“Don’t try tae lie tae me sweetheart!” He laughs, and despite it being at your expense pride swelled in your heart at making him laugh so hard. “Ye wee filthy lass!” He laughs.

“N-no!!” You yell in a blushing defense but that just confirms his suspicions further and he wasn’t having any of that. You're dignity was going for a round two and there is no tap outs avaliable

“I cannae believe it! The wee Innocent Princess has a dark side! Tell me lassie, do ye like the idea of a big mean soldier tossin’ a wee ting like you and fuckin’ her silly?”

“It’s not all smutty!” You slip up. Well shit now you’ve confirmed it!

“Is that so? are they all big dark, brooding and misunderstood?” He keeps going, merciless “or are they too busy shagging each other? An’ I’m right here! Without the plot holes or filers! I’m proper jealous! Am I not strong enough fer ye Bonnie? I promise I’m a better fuck than Audie Murphy!” He laughs, clutching his chest in faux heartbreak

“Noooooo!”

“Dae the lads recite Shakespeare tae woo ye? I should try tha’! O, my sweet lass, how doth thy beauty compare to a well-placed grenade?’”

“Okay well fuck you too Johnny”

“ye wish! Is this what ye’ve been reading at night?! All cozy in yer Jammies readin’ about an alpha male in yer bedroom? I gotta see this!”

“Jounnyyy!!” you shove your face into your hands, unable to face him

“What’s yer favorite one lass? ‘Tactical Submission’? ‘*Deeeep* Infiltration’” he leans in close to you, making sure to be right in front of your hands on your face

“What was it again? ‘Captain’s Private Orders’? I could give ye orders if ye like lass”

“Oh I’m sorry Sergeant jealousy, I didn’t know it was part of protocol to get your CV before reading in what I thought was the privacy of my home!” You whine into your hands then he grips your wrists and rips them away to revel in your shattered dignity

“I dinae think the day would ever come where I’d find this about ye! Are ye that patriotic or have I swooned ye? I shoulda went in tae makin’ porn! Then at least ye’d be Diddling tae a proper braw belter!”

You groan so loudly you sound like an angsty teen on their phone. You look away, your face too hot to breath properly “Who needs recruiters when they have me! Are you tryin to tell me somethin lass?” He leans in way too fucking close making it hard to breathe.

You whine indignantly “yeah!” You choke out. His eyes brighten and it pisses you off more right now “l found that that military men are really sexy! You’re just a shit example!” You yell out.

He throws his head back in laughter. Finally you can breathe without his smothering proximity. “Awww lass! Don’t be like tha’!”

You huff and don’t meet his face

“Lassie” he calls out, still holding your wrists

“Fuck off Johnny”

“Awww don’t be like that hen. I’m sure it’s a nice way tae keep warm when the real thing isn’t there”

“Johnny I swear to god I will sell you to foreign forces for a corn chip if you don’t shut the fuck up”

“Fee a corn chip? Nae I’m sure you can bargain fer better.” He grins wider and leans back in “like…say….a night with one of their soldiers.”

“Johnny I swear to god-“ He gasps as if he suddenly got an idea “Ye really should show me some!” Your eyes shoot open in horror

“absolutely not!” You yell “ain’t no way!”

He whines and places both hands in the couch ‘wall’ behind you, encasing you. You knew he was going to try and roll persuasion. He rolls a 19 but you roll a 20 on insight and see his roguish mischievousness through those twitter-blue eyes. He lowers himself a bit and looks up at you with those big blue pupper eyes, it’s especially ethos with those bandages “Bonny-” he starts, dripping with faux sincerity

“No.”

“Lass pl-“

“I said no Johnny”

“Hen”

“I said NO Johnny! I will throw Simon at you don’t test me!”

He whines like a dog and encircles me more, trying to apply pressure.

“Princess.”

You sigh, hot faced with anger and embarrassment “what.” He grins.

“I love ye”

Though those sad puppy eyes were optimized to disintegrate your will, they were gleaming with mischief

“shut it” you shove him off to run away but he throws himself on top of you like a clingy dog and pinning you on the couch “don’t gooo, say it baack”

“Get off me!” You whine, fantasizing about locking yourself into your bed room and scream into your pillow

“Not until he tell me I’m more braw then the Bawbags ye read about!”

“Fat chance sergeant suds!” You struggle under his the immovable object that is Johnny with the unstoppable force that is your rage.

But then-lightbulb!

💡💡💡

He’s taught you many things, some of which includes how to evade capture by government agents and how to get out of being pinned. You decide to use one of the tricks he taught you. Usually it might not work on the big bad sergeant soap, but he’s sore, fresh out of the hospital, and hasn’t worked out in weeks. He’s not at full strength. You’ve got this!

“Well then yer stuck here!” He taunts and continues to make fucking fun of you “Why don’t ye write naughty fanfiction of me? I’m amazin’!”

“Oh I’ve got a naughty story for you Sergeant!”

You hook your legs around his waist, shutting him up quick. You shift your hips, buck up hard, pushing your knee against his hip. The unexpected momentum makes him yelp and it rolls him enough to loosen his hold as he instinctively tries to catch himself from falling off the couch.

“long. live. the king!”

You snake an arm free and shove his shoulder with all your Disney movie might, tossing him off the couch with a thud

You scramble to your feet as he stares in surprise “I know all your tricks Sudsy!”

“I taught ye that! Y-ye traitor!” He groans. You turn to skiddadle away.

“Honey wait!” He calls after you but nope! You’re gone! He shoots up to chase you. You slam your door and lock yourself in your bedroom to sulk, scream, punch something and pout.

“This isnae over Bonny!” He says truthfully, not only was there the other stuff to take care of but he has to read some of that! “You cannae escape me forever!”

“I just did!” You scream through your bedroom door and flop on the bed to scream.

“This is war bonny! And I don’t lose!” You can hear his laughter from the other room. He stands there, arms crossed as if waiting for you to come out. After a few beats of silence he decides to grant you a shred of mercy and leave you to your pain. He moves to drop on the couch. He still has work to do, but at least he’s sure you’re definitely innocent. Well, innocent in terms of crime. He still hasn’t read those fics.

He sees Simon and tries to pet him. Simon, however was having none of that. He was being malicious mean and scary and stares at Johnny with a sneer that could curdle dairy as if to say that crime wise his hands are not the cleanest.

He has concluded that Johnny Upset You and refuses to be pet by him till an Official Pardon has been issued by the princess herself.

He hisses grumpily like he’s saying ‘you’ve angered the queen’s envoy, human. No cuddles for you’ and enters your room to comfort you. How? Oh he’s got a dream. Lol jk. Like this:

https://youtube.com/shorts/a-MvV2Oo4cE?si=UMNuw2ndX3Oxj9uC

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shiorihyugawrites · 1 month ago

Text

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Sixty

A/N: OST for this chapter is “Symphonicsuite(Aot)Part1-2nd Historia” (Just the first half of it [0:00-2:02])

Two days....

It had taken two whole days for the Rumbling to reshape the world. Eren Jaeger had done the unthinkable—flattened the earth, erased nations, and silenced the Global Allied Fleet in a cataclysm of destruction that left only Paradis and the Eldian enclaves standing. The Colossal Titans, those towering harbingers of doom, had marched relentlessly, their footsteps shaking the foundations of civilizations until nothing remained but ash and silence. Now, their task complete, they stood as silent sentinels no more.

In the internment zone of Liberio, the Eldians gathered in stunned silence as the massive Colossal Titans that had formed an impenetrable barrier around their enclave began to collapse. One by one, the titans fell, their enormous bodies crumbling into clouds of steam and dust, their skeletal forms dissolving into the earth. The air was thick with the scent of scorched stone and the faint, lingering heat of their power. The civilians, their faces etched with a mix of awe and fear, watched as the titans vanished, leaving behind an open horizon—a world both terrifyingly vast and strangely free.

A young man, his clothes tattered from the chaos, clutched his sister’s hand as he stared at the empty skyline. “They’re… gone,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Does that mean it’s over?”

His sister, her eyes wide, nodded slowly. “Eren kept his promise,” she said, her voice barely audible. “We’re still here.”

An older woman nearby, her shawl slipping from her shoulders, sank to her knees, tears streaming down her weathered face. “Mercy,” she murmured, her hands clasped in prayer. “He showed us mercy.” But her words were tinged with uncertainty, as if she couldn’t quite believe the reprieve was real. The Eldians of Liberio stood together, their gazes fixed on the horizon, grappling with the reality of a world remade by Eren’s hand—a world where they were no longer prisoners, but survivors in a landscape of unknowns.

…

In the royal palace in Mitras, the air was heavy with a different kind of weight. The bedroom where Aurora had given birth to her daughter, Ymir, was bathed in soft morning light, the curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. The room, once filled with the tension of labor and the distant tremors of the Rumbling, now held a fragile peace. Aurora lay propped up in bed, her platinum blonde hair spilling over the pillows, her ice-blue eyes soft with exhaustion and love as she gazed at Eren, who stood beside her, cradling their newborn daughter.

Ymir was a vision of beauty, her tiny features already hinting at the strength she would one day wield. Eren held her close, his touch gentle but unwavering, knowing that his physical connection to her was the key to the Founding Titan’s power. Even now, with the Rumbling complete, he couldn’t bear to let her go, as if releasing her would shatter the fragile victory they had won.

The world of the Paths had released them, jolting Eren and Aurora back into their bodies with a suddenness that left them breathless. The ethereal sands and swirling skies were gone, replaced by the familiar stone walls of the palace. Historia stood nearby, her blonde hair catching the light, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension. Aurora’s doctor hovered at the edge of the room, his work done but her presence a quiet reassurance. A handful of Jaegerist soldiers stood guard, their faces alight with a fervor that bordered on reverence.

Eren’s gaze met Aurora’s, a silent understanding passing between them. He gently passed Ymir to her, his hands lingering as if reluctant to break the connection. Aurora cradled her daughter, her heart swelling with love as Ymir’s green eyes blinked up at her, calm and trusting. Eren turned to Historia, his expression solemn, and gave a single nod. The gesture was small, but its weight was immense. Historia’s breath caught, her eyes widening as she realized what it meant.

“The Rumbling…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s done?”

Eren nodded, his voice low but steady. “It’s done.”

The Jaegerists in the room erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls. “We did it!” one shouted, his fist raised in triumph. “We’re free! Paradis is free!” Another clapped his comrade on the back, tears streaming down his face as he laughed, the sound raw with relief. The fervor in their voices was infectious, a release of years of fear and oppression, but Aurora and Historia exchanged a glance, their expressions tinged with a quiet sorrow. Freedom had come at a cost too great to measure.

Historia stepped forward, her eyes drawn to the bundle in Aurora’s arms. “Oh, Aurora,” she breathed, her voice soft with awe. “She’s stunning.” Her gaze softened as she took in Ymir’s delicate features, the platinum hair and vibrant green eyes. “Look at her… she’s absolutely perfect.”

Aurora smiled, her exhaustion giving way to a warmth that radiated from her core. “Would you like to hold her?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Historia’s eyes widened, a flush of excitement crossing her face. “Can I?” she asked, her hands already reaching out.

“Of course,” Aurora said, carefully passing Ymir to her. Historia cradled the baby with a tenderness that spoke of her own longing for a future unmarred by war. Ymir cooed softly, her tiny hand grasping at Historia’s finger, and Historia laughed, a sound that was both joyful and bittersweet.

“She’s so strong already,” Historia said, her voice thick with emotion. “Just like her parents.”

Aurora’s smile widened, but her eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Historia,” she said, her voice trembling. “For everything. For being here, for staying by my side through… all of it.”

Historia looked up, her own eyes shining. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else,” she said softly. “You’re my family, Aurora. You, Eren, and Ymir.”

Eren, standing silently beside the bed, cleared his throat, his voice rough with emotion. “Historia,” he said, drawing her attention. “Thank you. For keeping her safe, for helping us through this. I… we owe you everything.”

Historia shook her head, her smile warm but firm. “You don’t owe me anything, Eren. We’re in this together. Always have been.”

Eren nodded, his jaw tightening as he pushed down the swell of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He turned to Aurora, his gaze softening. “We need to meet with the others,” he said, his voice steady but urgent. “Captain, Mikasa, Armin… all of them. We need to tell them it’s over.”

Aurora nodded, her hand resting on Ymir’s head as Historia gently returned the baby to her. “They deserve to know,” she said, her voice resolute despite the exhaustion etched into her features.

…

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Paradis, the landscape was a testament to the island’s transformation. The Walls—Maria, Rose, and Sina—were gone, their rubble scattered across the rolling hills, leaving the island open and boundless. The sky stretched endlessly above, a canvas of blue unbroken by the towering barriers that had once defined their world. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of grass and earth, a stark contrast to the smoke and blood that had lingered during the Rumbling. Paradis felt different now—endless, free, the way Eren had always envisioned it could be.

The Paradis forces moved through the streets of a small town near the former Wall Rose, their steps purposeful but heavy. They had spent the past two days ensuring the island was secure, checking for any remnants of the Global Allied Fleet’s forces, though they knew deep down that none remained. The Jaegerists worked alongside them, guiding civilians from the Underground City back to their homes above ground. The process was slow, the people weary and shaken, but there was a flicker of hope in their eyes—a belief that, perhaps, the worst was over.

Annie, Gabi, and Falco trailed behind the group, their presence a source of tension among the Jaegerists. Many of the soldiers cast wary glances at the trio, their hands lingering near their weapons. Annie’s stoic expression gave nothing away, her blonde hair tied back in a loose bun, her eyes scanning the crowd with a quiet vigilance. Gabi walked with her head high, her dark eyes burning in defiance with every step despite the hostility directed at her. Falco, ever the peacemaker, stayed close to her, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“They don’t trust us,” Gabi muttered, her voice low but sharp. “Not that I blame them.”

Annie, walking a few steps ahead, didn’t turn but spoke in her usual dry tone. “Keep your heads down and do what they ask. Fighting won’t get you anywhere now.”

Gabi bristled but didn’t argue, a sign of how much had changed in the past few days. The group continued their work, helping a family carry their belongings from a cart to a small house. The civilians, a mix of elderly men, women, and children, moved with a cautious optimism, their voices hushed as they spoke of rebuilding, of starting anew.

Hange, her glasses glinting in the sunlight, paused to wipe sweat from her brow. Her usual energy was subdued, her expression solemn as she surveyed the scene. “It’s quiet,” she said, her voice low. “Too quiet. I keep waiting for something to happen, but…” She trailed off, her gaze distant.

Armin, standing beside her, nodded slowly. “The Rumbling… it should be complete by now,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of what that meant. “Eren did it. He really did it.”

The group fell silent, the reality of the Rumbling settling over them like a shroud. None of them had wanted it—not Armin, with his dreams of peace; not Hange, with her relentless curiosity; not Mikasa, whose loyalty to Eren was matched only by her horror at his actions. But the Global Allied Fleet had left them no choice, their plans to exterminate Paradis absolute. The Rumbling had been their only path to survival, and now, they lived with the consequences.

Jean ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. “A whole world, gone,” he said, his voice rough. “Just like that.”

Connie forced a weak smile, his usual humor absent. “Guess we’re the lucky ones, huh? Still standing.”

“Lucky,” Sasha muttered, her hands fidgeting with her rifle. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Mikasa, standing a few steps away, stared at the horizon, her scarf pulled tight around her neck. “Eren’s okay,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with worry. “I know he is. He’ll come back to us.”

Levi, leaning against a nearby wall, glanced at her, his sharp eyes softening for a moment. “He’d better,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind. “We’ve got enough to deal with without him pulling a disappearing act.”

Pieck tilted her head, her voice calm but probing. “What happens now? The Walls are gone, the world’s… gone. What’s left for us?”

Porco snorted. “Rebuilding, I guess. Not like we’ve got a choice.”

Reiner, his broad shoulders tense, spoke quietly. “We make something better. That’s what Eren wanted, right? A world where we’re free.”

The group exchanged glances, the weight of Reiner’s words settling over them. Freedom had come at a cost they could never repay, but it was theirs now, and they had to find a way to live with it.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps. A young Jaegerist, his face flushed with excitement, came running toward them, his breath ragged. “Captain Levi!” he shouted, skidding to a halt. “A message from Eren! He’s summoned you to the palace in Mitras. All of you!”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Slow down, kid. What’s the message?”

The Jaegerist straightened, his voice trembling with awe. “The Rumbling… it’s complete. It’s over. We won.”

The words hung in the air, a confirmation of what they had all suspected but hadn’t dared to believe. The group stood frozen, their expressions a mix of relief, guilt, and disbelief. Hange adjusted her glasses, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s really over.”

Armin’s shoulders slumped, his eyes glistening. “We… we survived.”

Mikasa’s hand tightened around her scarf, her voice steady. “Eren did it. He kept his promise.”

The Jaegerist, oblivious to their turmoil, grinned. “Come on! Eren’s waiting! The whole island’s gonna celebrate!”

Levi pushed off the wall, his expression unreadable. “Let’s move,” he said, his voice curt. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

The group nodded, falling into step behind him. Annie, Gabi, and Falco followed, their presence a quiet reminder of the complexities of their new world. The civilians around them continued their work, unaware of the news, but the air felt different now—charged with the possibility of a future unmarred by war.

As they made their way toward Mitras, the landscape of Paradis stretched before them, open and free. The scars of the Rumbling remained, but so did the promise of something new. Eren had remade the world, and now, it was up to them to decide what to do with it. The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in years, they walked it together, bound by the shared weight of their choices and the faint hope of a better tomorrow.

…

Hours later, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the royal palace in Mitras. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming jasmine from the palace gardens, a stark contrast to the scars of war that still marred the landscape of Paradis. The journey from the outskirts had been long, the Paradis forces moved with a quiet determination, their steps echoing with the weight of the world they had helped reshape. The news of the Rumbling’s completion had settled over them like a heavy cloak, a mix of relief and guilt that none could fully shake.

As they approached the palace, the towering stone structure loomed before them, its spires catching the fading light. Jaegerist guards stood at attention, their faces alight with fervor, but their eyes softened as they recognized the group. The doors swung open, and the group stepped into the grand hall, their boots echoing on the polished marble floor. The hall was quieter than expected, the usual bustle of soldiers and advisors replaced by a hushed anticipation. They were led through winding corridors, the walls adorned with tapestries that told the story of Eldia’s past, until they reached a familiar bedroom door.

Eren stood just inside, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft light streaming through the window. His green eyes, once burning with relentless resolve, now held a quieter intensity, tempered by exhaustion and something softer—love. Beside him, in a wide bed draped with soft linens, lay Aurora, her hair spilling over the pillows, her eyes bright despite the fatigue etched into her features. In her arms, she cradled a small bundle, the faint coo of a newborn breaking the silence.

But before the group could fully take in the scene, Historia, standing near the bed, turned at the sound of their arrival. Her blonde hair caught the light, and her blue eyes widened with joy as they landed on Porco. “Porco!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with relief. She crossed the room in a few swift steps, her royal composure giving way to raw emotion.

Porco’s usual smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile, his hazel eyes lighting up. “Your Majesty,” he said, his tone teasing but warm, the flirtatious edge unmistakable. “Miss me?”

Historia laughed, a sound that was both joyous and desperate, and threw her arms around him. “You idiot,” she murmured against his chest, her voice muffled. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

Porco’s arms tightened around her, his playful demeanor giving way to something deeper. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back just enough to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, and then he kissed her, a passionate, lingering kiss that spoke of all the fear and longing they had carried through the final battle. The room seemed to fade away for them, the world narrowing to the warmth of their embrace.

The others watched, a mix of amusement and respect in their expressions.

Sasha sighed dreamily. “It’s kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

Levi’s sharp gaze flicked to her, his tone dry. “Focus, Sasha. We’re not here for a love story.”

But the moment passed, and Historia, her cheeks flushed, stepped back, her hand still clasped in Porco’s. She turned to the group, her smile warm but tinged with the weight of their shared history. “I’m glad you’re all here,” she said, her voice steady. “Come, see her.”

The group’s attention shifted to Aurora, who sat up slightly, cradling the bundle in her arms. The Paradis forces moved closer, their steps tentative, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. Aurora’s smile was radiant, her exhaustion overshadowed by the love in her eyes as she looked down at her daughter. The baby was stunning, her hair a soft halo, her eyes—Eren’s eyes—bright and curious as they blinked up at the newcomers.

Mikasa was the first to reach the bedside, her scarf slipping slightly as she leaned forward. Her dark eyes glistened with tears as she took in the sight of Eren’s child, her expression a mix of awe and quiet sorrow. “She’s… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice trembling. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, but the emotion in her gaze was unmistakable.

Aurora’s smile softened, and she reached out, squeezing Mikasa’s hand. “Thank you, Mikasa,” she said gently. “She’s our miracle.”

Levi, standing at the edge of the group, peered over Mikasa’s shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Fat little thing,” he remarked dryly, his tone betraying none of the warmth in his eyes. “Looks healthy, though.”

Aurora laughed, a sound that was both tired and genuine. “She is,” she said, her gaze flicking to Levi with affection. “And don’t pretend you don’t think she’s cute, Captain.”

Levi’s lips twitched, the closest he ever came to a smile. “Don’t push it, kid,” he said, but his tone was softer than usual, a rare acknowledgment of the bond they shared—a father-like figure to the woman who had become so much to him.

Armin stepped forward, his blue eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s her name?” he asked, his voice gentle but eager.

Eren and Aurora exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. “Ymir,” Aurora said, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Her name is Ymir.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the name settling over the group like a storm cloud. Ymir—the Founder, the one whose pain had birthed the cycle of suffering they had fought to end. The shock was palpable, their expressions ranging from disbelief to quiet awe.

“Ymir?” Hange echoed, adjusting her glasses as if to process the information. “As in… the Founder Ymir?”

Eren nodded, his expression calm but resolute. “She’s her reincarnation,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Ymir Fritz gave me the power to use the Founding Titan, and in exchange, she was reborn as our daughter. That’s how I kept the Rumbling going after Zeke died. Ymir—our Ymir—is the key.”

The group stared, flabbergasted, their minds struggling to comprehend the enormity of what Eren had revealed. Jean’s jaw dropped, his voice incredulous. “You’re telling me… your baby is the Founder? Like, the actual Founder?”

Connie let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That’s… insane. I mean, no offense, but… wow.”

Sasha’s eyes widened, her bread forgotten in her hand. “So she’s, like, super powerful? Even as a baby?”

Pieck tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. “That explains the Rumbling’s continuation,” she said, her tone analytical. “But… a child with that kind of power? It’s unprecedented.”

Reiner’s expression was heavy, his voice quiet. “It’s a lot to take in,” he said, his gaze flicking to the baby. “But she’s… she’s just a kid, right? Not some ancient titan.”

Aurora’s smile was gentle but firm. “She’s our daughter,” she said, her voice steady. “Yes, she’s Ymir Fritz reborn, but she’s also Ymir Jaeger. She’s ours, and we’ll protect her, raise her to be more than the pain of the past.”

Armin nodded slowly, his expression softening. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And… I think it’s fitting. Ymir Fritz deserved a second chance. Maybe this is it.”

Mikasa’s gaze lingered on the baby, her tears dry now but her eyes still bright. “She’ll have a better life,” she said softly. “You’ll make sure of it.”

Eren’s hand rested on Aurora’s shoulder, his voice resolute. “We will,” he said. “She’ll grow up free, in a world where she doesn’t have to fear.”

The group fell silent, the weight of Eren’s words settling over them. The Rumbling had remade the world, and now, this tiny child held the legacy of that transformation. It was a responsibility none of them could fully grasp, but in that moment, they felt the stirrings of hope—a chance to build something better.

Aurora’s gaze shifted to Reiner, her expression softening. “Reiner,” she said, her voice gentle, “Historia and I… we encountered your cousin, Gabi, and a blonde boy—Falco. They… they tried to take me, but we stopped them. The Jaegerists wanted to kill them, but I couldn’t let that happen. I asked for their lives to be spared.”

Reiner’s eyes widened, a mix of gratitude and guilt crossing his face. “Gabi and Falco,” he said, his voice rough. “They’re out of jail now. We saw them at the base, being watched by the Jaegerists… with Annie.”

Eren’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Annie?” he said, his voice sharp. “She’s supposed to be in her crystal.”

Historia nodded, her expression puzzled. “I thought so too,” she said. “What’s she doing here?”

Aurora glanced between them, her confusion evident. “Who’s Annie?” she asked, her voice curious but tinged with unease.

Armin stepped forward, his voice calm but explanatory. “Annie Leonhart, the Female Titan,” he said. “She encased herself in a crystal years ago to avoid capture. But when you undid all the hardening on Paradis to release the Wall Titans, Eren… it must have broken her crystal too.”

Eren’s eyes widened, realization dawning. “I didn’t even think about that,” he admitted, his voice low. “She’s free now?”

Reiner nodded, his expression heavy. “She’s with Gabi and Falco,” he said. “She’s… complicated, but she’s not our enemy anymore. Not after everything.”

Porco, his arm still around Historia, spoke up, his tone urgent. “Eren, what’s next?” he asked, his voice cutting through the room. “The Rumbling’s done. Marley’s gone, the world’s gone. Our people in the internment zone… we need to get to them. Paradis is the only place left for us now.”

Pieck nodded, her voice calm but insistent. “The Eldians in Liberio are waiting,” she said. “They’re free, but they’re scared. We need to bring them here, help them start over.”

Reiner’s gaze was steady, his voice firm. “We owe it to them,” he said. “After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve lost… we need to make this right.”

Eren’s expression was resolute, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at Aurora and Ymir. “Our focus doesn’t have to be on defenses anymore,” he said, his voice steady. “We’re free now. We can build the world we always wanted—a world where our people don’t have to fight, don’t have to fear. We’ll go to Liberio, bring our people home. We’ll rebuild, together.”

He paused, his hand tightening on Aurora’s shoulder, his voice softening. “But for me… I just want to be with my wife and daughter. I want to live, to be free with my family, my friends. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Aurora’s eyes glistened, her hand covering his as she looked up at him. “We will,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “We’ll have that life, Eren. I promise.”

Historia smiled, her hand still clasped in Porco’s. “We all will,” she said, her voice steady. “We’ve lost so much, but we’re still here. That means something.”

Levi’s voice cut through the moment, dry but grounding. “Enough dreaming,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “We’ve got work to do. People to move, homes to rebuild. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Hange laughed, adjusting her glasses. “Always the optimist, Levi,” she said, her tone teasing. “But he’s right. We’ve got a lot to do. Let’s start with Liberio.”

Jean nodded, his expression determined. “We’ll make it work,” he said. “For all of us.”

Connie grinned, a flicker of his old humor returning. “Yeah, and maybe we’ll finally get some rest. I’m ready for a nap.”

Sasha snorted, nudging him. “You? Rest? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The group laughed, a brief moment of levity in the weight of their new reality. Mikasa’s gaze lingered on Eren, her expression softening. “We’re with you,” she said quietly. “Always.”

Eren nodded, his eyes meeting hers, a silent acknowledgment of their bond. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “All of you.”

As the group began to disperse, their voices filling the room with plans and promises, Aurora leaned back against the pillows, Ymir cradled in her arms. She looked at Eren, her heart swelling with love and hope. The world was broken, but it was theirs now, and they would build it anew.

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