#TW Claustrophobia

[sibmakesart]

⬛

[ghostbeam]

Oblivi_n.exe | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler. 

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week. 

Notes: okay wow hiiiii it’s been a long time since I’ve posted an actual fic (nearing almost a year now😬) this is something I’ve been working on for a bit. I have mech brain rot curtesy of @streimiv and @hawnks (both of whom this is dedicated to bc there’s no way I could have written this without yapping to them abt it and also mint helped me come up w the acronym for HERO’s) and we’ve all got our own mech fics in the works atm but anywayssssss this is kind of my baby atm but I hope it makes sense it’s very inspired first and foremost by pacific rim and then also NGE (mostly through consumption of YouTube vids bc I haven’t actually watched it pls don’t hate me) it’s a whole mess of things and Dabi is kind of a bitch and reader is slowly coming into herself and at the end of the day they both wanna be metal fused to one another forever (no matter how hard he denies it) also I’m not a huge computer person idk if this title makes sense so don’t make fun of me pls ok anyways I hope u like it!!!!

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, pilot!Dabi x handler!reader, there’s no explicit sexual content in this part, not even a kiss sorry guys, mentions of robot gore (exposed wires, insides described as guts), brief descriptions of being trapped inside a small space, descriptions of burning while inside said space, mention of surgery to fashion a metal jaw onto someone, mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic just allusions to the todoroki family and touya’s past), angst, many run on sentences, a small cliff hanger

Words: 7.9k

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 (coming soon)

You are nothing without your machine.

It’s the first rule, the first thing beaten into his brain by his father. You carry the burden of the mech alone, or you’re weak. You don’t exist. 

U.A. raises the best and brightest pilots, navigators, mechanics, and handlers, each one carefully trained to ensure the most important outcome: winning. It should be protection. It should be defense. But if Touya has learned anything at all, it’s that winning means glory. It means worship. It means HERO’s (Human Engineered Robotic Objects) are saints, and pilots are gods. 

 Touya used to be one of those best and brightest before his accident. 

First son to Enji Todoroki, Touya was supposed to be the golden child, the first Todoroki to pilot without a handler. He was supposed to carry the burden alone, something his father couldn’t do, something only one man has ever actually been capable of. 

But Touya is born weak, bad bones, a brain unable to handle all that the mech needs to unload onto it. One too many accidents results in him being expelled from the pilot program, his HERO discarded and collecting dust in its pod, and Touya is promptly transferred to mechanics. 

It should have been a smooth transition. If one kid can’t handle it, the next will. Because they have to. 

He doesn’t take the news well. It’s a fit of tears, a persistent fight, unable to accept the loss of his machine—of his body. Because Touya loves it. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in pure passion, and despite being unable to handle the burden, there’s no denying that he’s good. He’s almost perfect. 

But almost is not enough for Enji Todoroki, and no matter how hard Touya tries, he’s made up his mind. 

After months of mechanics, Touya makes a decision. When the next fleet of HERO’s is deployed for the next kaiju battle, Touya sneaks in among the chaos, tucked neatly inside the chest of his machine where he belongs. It doesn’t take long for things to go south, for Touya to get caught in the crossfire, losing control of his mech and burning from the inside out. 

It should be an excruciating death, stuck inside a machine made for war, fire raining from above as a battle continues on outside without him. 

But he survives, because what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in resilience, and his mech is programed with solutions to every situation. He’s stuck inside for months before he’s found.

Tomura Shigaraki rescues him, pries open the chest of his mech and pulls him from inside. His group feeds him, takes him in, fashions a new jaw for him made from the metal of his mech, and allows him the decision to join their cause or go back home. 

And since there’s no home to go back to, Touya finds his footing with the league and becomes one of their top pilots. One who vehemently resists any and all handlers.

…

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler. 

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week. 

Following closely behind Tenko, formerly Tomura, he quickly explains to you the in’s and out’s of the pilot/handler relationship, along with a warning about Dabi’s resentment toward the whole idea. You try to keep up, but he talks quickly and uses his hands a lot. Even so, you can tell he’s a natural leader, something he had to grow into after overthrowing the man who raised him. His story is a tragic one, and it resonates with you because Tenko came out the other side stronger. Now, the league is a community with a cause, one you really believe in. Even if you and Dabi aren’t the right fit, you still have a place here. 

You follow Tenko into what he calls the garage, a large floor of the abandoned academy that serves as the league’s base, this part of it full of HERO’s and mechanics all focused on the machines in front of them. It’s completely different from how HERO’s were worked on at UA, where you grew up, and even the PLF didn’t have one dedicated floor to this sort of work. You can feel the energy of the room buzzing on your skin, music blasting from old radios and mechanics tossing tools towards one another in a familiar routine. Tomura leads you to Dabi and his HERO, Blue, though you’re instructed not to call it a HERO around him. With goggles over his eyes and gloved hands, he brings two wires from Blue’s ankle together, sighing at the way they spark each time they connect. 

“Dabi.” Tomura calls over the music coming from the radio hanging off of Dabi’s waist. He drops the wires and his gaze flickers toward the two of you. Pushing his goggles up to his forehead, he gives you a once over. His eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen—kaiju blood blue—and burn scars litter his body. He’s striking in a way you’ve never seen, almost too beautiful to be human. Giving Dabi your name, Tomura explains that you’re taking over as his handler, seeing as he couldn’t keep the last one for more than a couple of days. “She’s your last handler. If you can’t keep this one, then go ahead and fry your brain. See if I care.”

“You say that every time.” Dabi calls from around sucker as Tomura walks away, leaving you alone with your new pilot. 

You just your hand out in a greeting, “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Eyeing your hand, Dabi shakes his head and turns his back to you, picking the two wires back up and connecting them again, despite the same spark from before igniting between the two. He looks back up at Blue, touching his fingers to the slim lines starting at the back of her ankle and running all the way up her leg. You peak over his shoulder at the wiring, noticing that he’s connecting two of the wrong ones. 

“It’s the wrong wire.” You tell him, and he spins around to look at you, tearing his goggles from his face as he scoffs. 

“Here we go.” He sighs with a roll of his eyes, pulling the candy from his lips and tossing it onto the tool cart without a care. “Handler know-it-all bullshit. This is my mech.”  

You push passed him and grab the similarly colored wire from beside a red wire and connect it with the one in Dabi’s right hand. Blue lights up cyan through the thin lines that run along each of its limbs and torso, connecting with the two cameras within its head, which seem to blink before the light reaches them. 

In an instant, you’re being pushed up against the hard metal, a strong arm over your chest—pinning you up against the HERO. Dabi, now having discarded his goggles, looks at you full of white, hot rage. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He growls. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity, eyes flickering between the snarl across his lips and his angry gaze. For a beat, you both freeze, the air suddenly charged like you’re waiting for one another to strike. Snapping yourself out of his hypnotic stare, you push against his chest, forcing him to let you go. 

“If I’m going to be you’re handler, you’re going to have to trust me with her.” You remind him. He lets out a harsh laugh, like he can’t believe you would suggest such a ridiculous idea. 

“I don’t trust anything but this machine.” He speaks, turning away from you to seal up the machine’s exposed wires. It’s a challenge you’re willing to accept.

“Well, I’m here to change that.” You tell him, before turning on your heel to leave him alone. 

He thinks he’ll give you a week. 

…

One of the worst parts of being assigned a handler, Touya thinks, is the way that pilot/handler living quarters are set up. He assumes the academy, before it was abandoned and turned into a base for the league, created this sort of set up so that handlers could keep a close eye on their pilots. The handlers Touya has burned through up until now also assumed the same. 

The door that connects both the pilot’s and handler’s dorms doesn’t lock, and all of Touya’s past handlers have taken advantage of this fact. He’s been pulled out of bed far too early, pushed around and commanded and barked at. Most handlers behaved as if pilots belonged to them, which was the sentiment drilled into their brains from being thrown into such a fucked up system at a young age.—unless you were a pilot of status like a Todoroki. While he league dedicates a lot of its time to reversing these ideas, most handlers look at Touya like some kind of challenge, this arrogant pilot begging to be tamed. It never takes long for them to realize how easily he’s able to flip the switch on them. You’ll be no different.

But hours pass and you still haven’t entered. You don’t swing the door open and demand he apologize for his behavior earlier. You don’t try and punish him with training regimes, a command of a set of push ups, a schedule you expect him to follow, an extremely detailed meal plan. The entire evening comes and goes without so much as a sound on the other side of the door so he knows you’re even behind it. 

He falls asleep unnerved by this, waking up late into the night in a cold sweat, expecting you to barge in, rip the covers from his body and demand to train together. When he wakes up (peacefully) the next morning, there’s no sign of you. He rises from his bed, drinks orange juice straight from the carton and eats a candy bar for breakfast. He fiddles with the navigation screen from his mech that stopped working a couple of days ago, tools spread out on the counter in front of him. Once he’s got the thing working again, your knock sounds from the unlocked door between the two of you. He thinks this might be it, the commands he expects to fall from your lips at the ready as he swings the door open, but you stand there, nervous, hands twitching as your eyes finally meet his.

Greeted by a shirtless Touya, hair mused from sleep, cargo pants hung low on his hips, dog tags swinging against his chest, his scars on display, unashamed and proud. The sight of him knocks the breath out of you, and you clear your throat in embarrassment, hoping your state of dreaming comes off as nerves rather than lust. 

“Dabi. Or do you prefer Touya?” You smile. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I wanted to see if you wanted to eat breakfast together in the caf. I think we should start over. Yesterday was—”

You’re promptly cut off, “I already ate breakfast.”

With a harsh slam of the door, he leaves you stunned in your room.

You eat alone. 

When you started as a pilot, back when you’d entered UA (a few years about Touya’s accident), you went into it believing you could change the world. The exam had placed you into the position of handler, and you were assigned a pilot who had always seemed a little frightened of you despite your obvious lack of authority. Bringing the fact up to your instructors did nothing. They all assured you that this was the ideal dynamic, that the handler always had the upper hand, but you hated that feeling. You weren’t a team like you expected to be; you were urged to control your pilot. You were there to keep them in line, not to be a pillar of support. The bond was never built on trust, and the soul link was always a looming threat. No matter how many pilots you went through, the link was never held as a gift, but a prison, something you would both be stuck with for the betterment of society, a sacrifice to make. 

You’d been expelled from the handler program after guiding your pilot to help save another in the wreckage of your first battle together, resulting in the damage of your pilot’s HERO. Your pilot was okay, but the other couldn’t be saved, and you were blamed for the damage of both mech’s. 

When you found the league (or when the league found you), you were working with the PLF, but proved to be a weak handler. Every pilot you were assigned to took advantage of your optimistic outlook on the kind of relationship dynamic that pilots had with their handlers. Despite all that you had been through at UA, and with the rest of the pilots you’d been paired with after, you never gave up the hope that handlers and pilots could behave as a team, or, even better, one entity. 

Tenko had taken one look at you and demanded you’d be transferred to the league. There hadn’t been much of a choice in the matter, not that you really cared. You were miserable everywhere else. But when you arrived at the abandoned academy and taken a peak behind the kudzu covered walls where each and every area of the building acted as multiple moving parts in collaboration with one another in order to create one massive system, you realized that this was the future you imagined for yourself—and for the world you lived in.

Tenko saw something in you that day, something you aren’t sure you even see in yourself. And so Dabi was your first task, one that’s proving to be very difficult. But he doesn’t treat you like all the other pilots before had. He doesn’t use you. In fact, it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. And while that’s a problem, it’s still one you can work with. 

You’re broken from your thoughts by the sound of a voice through an overhead intercom asking for everyone to meet on the first floor of the academy at their earliest convenience. Judging by the quick movements of those around you, you figure you’d better head downstairs as soon as possible. 

The meeting on the first floor makes you very aware of just how small the league really is. While it’s definitely not a tiny organization, it’s still much smaller than both UA and the PLF. With everyone piled up like this in one group, you realize it feels more like a community, and the hum of conversation that surrounds you comforts you in a way you’ve never felt within the walls of any other academy before. 

There’s discussion about the upcoming mission, one which may be the league’s most ambitious yet; the plan to hijack a mech and kidnap a pilot may be a little unorthodox compared to the league’s past missions, but the jaded pilot they’re targeting has a high chance of joining the cause. Or that’s what they have assumed. As the bodies move and speak around you, it strikes you how different this meeting is from any other meeting you’ve ever been a part of. Tenko is less a dictator and more a wrangler for the disembodied voices of your peers. 

You don’t know much about his story, save for the vague details you’ve heard, but Tenko’s status as a lone handler is something you find yourself curious about. If he’s able to work without a pilot, why can’t you? It’s an idea you keep in your back pocket, one you think you can fall back on if things with Touya don’t work out. But you want them to work out. So badly. 

You aren’t sure what it is about him, but he’s reignited that spark inside of you. You know he’d rather you give up, and maybe the you from a couple of months ago would have, but something about him—and this place—won’t let you leave. 

As you observe the meeting, you take the time to look around the room, taking in your peers and their attentive faces as they listen to Tenko intently. You turn to your right, your eyes meeting a pair of blue ones, impossible to miss. Dabi holds your stare for what feels like ages, and when your colleagues erupt in a fit of many simultaneous discussions, you tear your eyes from his to observe the commotion. When you glance back in his direction, he’s gone. 

You don’t seem him again after that. You train with other handlers, get to know your peers a little better. Everyone else seems to be welcoming, and most offer you sympathy when they find out you’re Touya’s new handler. From what you can gather, he’s had his fair share of them, all of which have quit or left in hysterics due to his harsh nature. When you ask around about where he could be, you’re told that he’s most likely in the garage, a place you assume he’s in more often than not.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the garage. A place so completely different, so against the ideas and beliefs of any other academy you’ve been a part of, the chaos and community within is so foreign to you. You find Touya with Blue, working inside of her chest, where the cockpit is. 

“Touya!” You call up to him and watch as he peaks his head over the edge of her metal plating. Annoyance falling across his face, he jumps down from where he stands, landing hard on his feet in front of you. 

“What are you doing here?” He questions, his figure so tall and imposing above you. He’s not particularly muscular, not even all that tall compared to Tenko, but he makes you feel small regardless, in more ways than one. Rolling your shoulders back, you stare straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down. 

“I figured you wanted your space today.” You explain, as Touya moves around you to get to his rolling cart of tools, forcing you to turn toward him and follow him if you want him to hear you. “I know adjusting to a new handler is rough, and I never want to make you uncomfortable. But I was thinking we could try some of those pilot/handler bonding exercises. It might be good to start training like some of the others do.”

He drops the wrench in his hand onto his cart with a loud thud, turning around toward you with a look of disbelief on his face. “Pilot/handler bonding exercises? They really brainwashed the shit out of you at UA, huh?”

At the mention of your past academy, your eyes widen in surprise. You had no idea he knew about that. Clearing your throat in order to compose yourself, you speak again, “I left UA for a reason. I have no attachment to their methods, but you guys do the same stuff here, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that I never asked for a fucking handler in the first place, especially not one as eager as you.” He spits, “Sure, you’re understanding now, all that bullshit about ‘giving me space,’ but the moment you get a lick of power over me, you’ll change. You’re not different.”

“I don’t want power over you. This is an equal exchange. Pilot’s and handlers are meant to be a team—” You try and argue, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“That’s what they told you, right? We’re a team, and as teammates, you make sacrifices. And it doesn’t matter if one of you turns into the other’s braindead dog because that’s your place.” His words hit you hard, the exact thought process you went through when leaving UA, completely disillusioned with their idea of “teamwork.” He’s right, and you know it, but since coming here, you thought that wasn’t how it had to be.

“Look, trust me, I get—” You’re cut off again.

“You went to UA! There’s no trusting you.” He scoffs, “It’s not like you’ll last here, anyway.”

“You are such a hypocrite! You’re from UA!” You retort, throwing your arms up in desperation. “You can hate me all you want. You can resist and resist and fry your brain ‘till there’s nothing left, but I believe in this shit. And you don’t get to tell me that I don’t, or tell me I’ll turn into something I worked so hard to get away from.”

Touya stands there, surprised by your outburst, completely unaware that you were capable of all of that. He doesn’t say anything back, and you roll your eyes. “So fuck you, and, by the way, her angel port is smoking.”

At your words, he turns in a rush, seeing the smoke billowing from Blue’s chest as he climbs his way up her form. Once inside his machine, he extinguishes the port and allows himself to relax. There are two things on his mind in this moment: how you could have possibly known it was the angel port without being inside of Blue’s chest and how, for the first time in a long time, he feels bad for his handler.

But for you, it’s the first time you’ve ever held your own against a pilot before, and that feels good.

…

Something feels weird.

Off, unsettling, strange.

He realizes, much to his dismay, that it’s your absence. Despite only having you around for such a short time, Touya has realized that your lack of presence now feels wrong. He hates it. He hates you. 

He can’t find you. You haven’t knocked on his door. You’re not in the caf, not the garage, not the sparring floor, not in your room. And he did check—without knocking. 

He’s not even sure how he can feel an absence. You aren’t a regular part of his life, and he never wanted you to be. But he feels all fucked up.

During training, Touya jams Blue’s halo core and she leaks vibrant neon from between her ribs. It takes him half an hour to get her reboot her system and rips one of the cables attached to the back of his suit in the process. He spends the afternoon cleaning HERO fluid off the sparring floor. 

During repairs, he shocks himself over and over while trying to fix her core, fingers burning from the sparks each time he arranges the wires inside. The cameras in her eyes won’t work from the reboot, and Blue won’t let him unlock the lens panel to fix it. It’s almost like she’s mad at him too.

He’s a complete mess. It’s your fault. He has no choice but to go looking for you. Again.

He searches every wing of the academy before concluding that you’re in your room. He barges through the joint door, spotting you at the counter in your tiny kitchen. You’re surprised by the intrusion, a frightened gasp falling from your lips as you jump in your seat. You turn toward him, prepared with angry words on your tongue, but Touya speaks first.

“You’re not getting an apology out of me, so don’t expect it.” He begins, moving to stand in front of your swiveling kitchen stool as he looks down at you. “But I’m willing to be civil with you, so we don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

You’re not exactly sure what “this shit” is, but Touya looks a little worse for wear at the moment, so you don’t question it. He places a tray from the caf down in front of you that you hadn’t noticed in his hands upon arrival, says nothing else, and turns to leave the room. After shutting your joint door, you look down at the tray of food, noticing one of his suckers placed onto a vacant compartment of the tray. 

You’re greeted the next morning with a knock on your door, Touya dressed in his pilot’s suit on the other side as you swing the door open. “C’mon. You’re gonna watch me train today.”

You watch him turn around to leave, expecting you to follow. You rush to pull on your combat boots and grip your dog tags in your fist as you rush to catch up to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you fall into step beside him, taking a look around his dorm before he leads you through the exit door. 

“You need to get a feel for my fighting style.” He explains as you walk down the corridor. “I’m not saying I’ll listen to you when it comes down to it, but it’s important for you to know.”

You nod, agreeing that you should definitely observe him inside of his HERO. By understanding his moves, you’ll be able to understand the way he thinks, and you’ll be able to help him in actual combat if needed. He’s already said he won’t listen to you, but it won’t stop you from trying. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you, and you stop with him. 

“If we’re gonna do this, it’ll be on my terms. I’m not your dog.” He tells you, seriously. He eye’s you up and down, taking in your expression as you nod at his words. “If anything, you’re mine.”

He begins walking again, leaving you in your spot, irritation filling your chest as you watch him, smug. “Asshole.” You curse under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He barks, turning to look at you abruptly.

“You’re an asshole.” You speak louder. He walks back toward you, making sure to tower over you intimidatingly as he looks down at you in annoyance. His eyes flicker down to the tags around your neck before hooking a finger on the chain and pulling you closer. 

“Watch it.” He drops the chain and walks away again. 

You follow him to the sparring floor, and he shows you where to go to watch. Stood behind a large window that looks over the sparring area, other members of the base watch the HERO’s engage in combat below. You spot Tenko and he motions for you to stand beside him. 

“I knew he’d warm up to you.” He comments. The last of the previous battle finishes and you watch the two enormous machines retreat to the sides of the area, their pilots emerging from their chests with their handlers rushing to the bottom of the mech’s in support. 

“He hasn’t. He’s not.” You shake your head. You aren’t sure why you deny it, if it’s some way to keep your expectations low or if there’s some kind of embarrassment aspect to the whole thing. Whatever is happening between you and Touya feels intimate and private, something that the two of you need to figure out for yourselves, not something meant for the eyes of others.

“Hm. Okay.” Tenko shrugs. “Guess not.”

You hadn’t noticed Touya enter his mech at all. You see the swing of one giant mechanic arm, too close to the window you stand behind, and you’ve shifted your full attention to the scene at hand. 

The enormity of the room surprises you, despite the fact that you had seen it just moments before. But when you’re truly looking at it, watching these huge machines go at each other, the way the ground shakes, the leaves outside shake, the deep forrest clear in view from the wall that opens out to the greenery (the lack of a wall is likely from the academy’s abandoned state, but it’s a good feature to have on the sparring floor when giant robots are toppled over onto various surfaces).

The way Blue moves is electric, mechanic movements almost feel fluid with the way that Touya pilots her, easily dodging attacks from their opponent and moving around them in the most graceful way a giant machine can. It’s beautiful, unlike any fighting style you’ve ever seen in a HERO before. 

“He’s showing off for you.” Tenko observes from beside you. You don’t argue with him, only because you can’t dispute it. This is your first time seeing him in action. It makes your heart beat out of your chest. There’s this ache like you should be inside with him, cables connected to both of you, tucked neatly inside of Blue together. 

It doesn’t take him long to get his opponent on their back, the heavy thump against the floor jostling the ant-like figures on the ground below, handlers waiting for their pilots to finish. It goes on like this for a while, his training, using different methods of combat and winning each time. He’s amazing, and you can tell why his reputation is the way it is, second only to Tenko, who you have yet to see in action. 

When he finishes his last session, you watch Blue walk to the edge of the room, and Touya emerges from her chest, jumping the long way down her body without any issue. You watch as he looks toward the window you’re behind. He waves at you, an acknowledgment of your presence, and you wave back, though you aren’t sure he can actually see you.

It’s the beginning of everything for the two of you. You think Tenko was right.

He lets you stay with him afterwards while he does maintenance on Blue. He helps you climb up the path to her chest, hauling you over the edge to sit inside with him. He turns around abruptly, holding a hand up before allowing you to walk any further.

“Do not touch anything.” He warns, completely serious, before letting his hand fall and allowing you further into the cockpit. You take in your surroundings, the guts of his machine, analyzing the different control panels and screens that line the interior. You can tell he takes good care of her, and he spends a lot of time in here. It looks lived in, stickers stuck to metal plating and pieces of him all over. He’s made a second home in between the ribs of his mech. You feel a little jealous, though you aren’t sure of what. 

The two of you sit against the left side of Blue’s interior, waiting for her updates to finish, the loading screen on each of her monitors display a fire graphic that grows with the increasing percentage on screen. Between you and Touya sits an opened bag of sour gummies, which Touya picks out the lemon flavor and drops the candy in your palm with each new handful he gathers. 

“How do you know all this stuff?” He questions around a mouthful of sour cherry, “Like, the real names for things, where stuff goes, how to fix them. That day with the wires…”

“I spent a lot of time around mechanics at UA, and then also at the PLF.” You explain, picking the yellow colored candy from his open palm as you speak. “I couldn’t connect with other handlers. I didn’t like how they thought, or how they viewed the pilot/handler relationship. Mechanics were mostly neutral, and they loved these machines like nothing else. They reminded me of why I joined UA in the first place.”

“Hm.” He nods, thinking about your past. “Well, I guess if you spent so much time around actual professionals…I could maybe use your help sometimes in the garage.”

“Really?” You question excitedly, a spark lighting up your eyes as you swerve your head toward him. He feels something tight in his chest at the sight.

“Yes, but only on the outside. I don’t want you messing with her insides, yet.” He establishes. “And never alone. I have to be there at all times.”

“Of course, yes, oh my god. Touya!” You smile, gripping his shoulder firmly, a gesture of thanks, communication of how much his trust means to you. “I’ll be so careful with her, I promise.”

“Yeah, well, you have no other choice.” He shrugs, throwing another pile of candy in his mouth. “I’ll kill you if anything happens to her.”

You take the threat seriously, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s realized that you’ve wormed your way into his life and he hadn’t even noticed just how entangled you were now. 

As the weeks go by, you spend a lot more time together. You work on blue together, and you rest inside of her chest, sometimes allowing yourself to drift off against his shoulder on especially tiring days. He sits beside you in the caf, and while he doesn’t always say much, the feeling of his arm against yours is comforting. You can tell people are starting to notice, and they’re starting to talk. You’re being dubbed someone who’s tamed him, but you know how far from the truth that is. 

Despite your differences and the petty arguments that come up when Touya feels like you’re intruding on his independence, you’re growing attached. You wonder if he is, too.

…

Spending time together in the garage becomes the new normal for the two of you. Being in each other’s dorms feels far too intimate, so you always meet in the garage. This way, one of you is always busy doing something with your hands. There’s no room for any strange feelings in the pit of your stomach to seep in. 

You sit in the crook of Blue’s neck, watching Touya as he repairs the lenses in her “eyes.” Blue has three pairs of eyes; in her head, her chest, and down near her hips, which all footage is projected onto monitors inside the cockpit so that Touya has a full view of what’s in front of him. 

He’s so peaceful while he works, you’ve noticed, almost like he goes somewhere else completely. It’s a part of him you don’t think many people get to see, a piece of him just for you, and you want to be selfish with it.

“Can I ask you something?” You question, leaning your head back against the metal. “But you can’t get mad.”

He looks up at you, still fiddling with a lens, a mocking look on his face. “I’m not making any promises.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the possible fallout of the question you’re about to ask, “What do you think about the soul link?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’d never do it.”

You nod your head in understanding, “yeah, I get it. It’s weird, right? The idea that someone else would be inside your brain.”

“It’s fucking invasive.” He says.

“You know, at UA it always felt like a threat, you know. Like, it was a way for a handler to control their pilot, not a tool or a bond like it should be.” You begin, thinking back to how you viewed the soul link back then. You didn’t like how the bond was presented as this power that a handler holds over their pilot, a threat to keep their pilot in line. But, you could understand how the link could be used for good. “But since coming here, I can tell it’s not all bad. People trust each other here. I mean, there’s obviously some people who abuse it, but, for the most part, everyone seems to understand what it really means to be a pilot and a handler.”

You’re mostly just thinking out loud, but Touya doesn’t say anything to your ramblings. He continues to work on the lenses, and you can gather that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject anymore. But you can’t let it go, yet. There’s something you’ve been worried about since you met him.

“And what about…your brain? They say when a handler and a pilot don’t complete the soul link, the pilot will eventually fry their brain.” You can’t help it. You think about it all the time, what will happen when he can’t take it anymore. The closer you get to him, the realer it feels. “Are you ever worried about that?”

He looks at you, an expression you can’t quite make out fall across his face as he stares. It’s almost soft, the way he looks at you in this moment. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The truth is, this is a reality Touya has accepted. He’s not afraid to die, and he never has been. He’ll probably die inside of Blue, and he has no problem with that fact. He doesn’t need to be around for long, just enough to show his dad what he’s capable of.

“C’mon.” You stare. “That’s not fair.”

“Shit. I left some of the screws for this in my dorm.” He curses. He looks where you lounge, tucked into Blue’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

You watch him jump down, much higher than his usual height at her chest, but he lands anyway. He doesn’t turn to look back at you as he jogs away. You climb up the side of Blue, and look at the lenses in her head. They’re already repaired, and you know Touya used the excuse of missing screw just so he wouldn’t have to talk about the soul link.

But it’s the first time he’s ever left you alone with Blue before. 

…

As the mission draws closer, Touya throws himself into training. You’re on the training floor with him most days, standing behind that big glass panel as you watch him spar with his peers. He still doesn’t let you down on the floor with him until he’s full out of Blue and close enough to the edge of the sparring floor to get to you. You’re not allowed in the actual training area, and even though he says he doesn’t want you clinging to him, it’s really because he wants to keep you safe. Seeing your human body near the giant machines that are HERO’s makes him want to grab you and keep you inside of Blue’s chest forever. 

You can tell all the training is taking a toll on him. With an excess of headaches and the occasional nosebleed, you continuously get into arguments about him cutting back on training inside of Blue. There are other ways for him to prepare that don’t involve his fragile brain being hooked up to an entity that takes so much. He doesn’t listen.

Later and later into the night, as your fellow pilots and handlers disperse and return to their rooms to sleep, Touya stays inside of Blue, testing her movements and sparring against test dummies and obstacles. Once you and Touya are the only two left on the sparring floor, you speak into the intercom attached to your head.

“Touya, I think you should take a break.” You tell him, “It’s late. Get some rest and then we can pick it back up in the morning.”

There’s a pause, then, “I’m gonna stay for another hour. Get some sleep. I’ll be done soon.”

“No, Touya. You’ve been at it for hours. You barely took a break for dinner. C’mon.” 

“You know, you sound awfully like a handler trying to tell their pilot what to do.” He teases, but you can hear the irritation in his voice.

“You are insufferable. I’m worried about you.” You groan.

“I’m fine. Go sleep.” He insists.

“If I find out you aren’t out of here in an hour—” Your line is promptly cut off, leaving behind static in your ear. You sigh and throw your com to the side. You hope he’s telling the truth.

With one last look at Blue, you make your way out of the training floor and find your way back to your dorm. 

Touya doesn’t answer the door when you knock the next morning. With a frustrated groan, you leave your dorm and head to the training floor, assuming he woke up early to get some extra hours in. The closer you get the the floor, you notice other members of the base rushing in front of you. Feeling panicked, you pick up the pace, jogging toward the training room to make sure something isn’t wrong. You collide with a body in front of you, nearly falling to the floor as you steady yourself. Toga stands in front of you, her cheeks red and eyes glossy as she explains something your mind can’t catch up to understand. The only thing you recognize is his name, and you’re running toward the training floor in an instant. 

You watch as Blue stomps around the area, her arms swinging in all directions, losing her footing as she moves. Knowing you can’t do anything on the floor, you make your way up to the overlook, finding Tenko yelling into your intercom. 

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” You ask him, pulling the headset off of his head and placing it on yours instead. 

“He’s out of fucking control. He won’t answer. I don’t even think he’s conscious in there.” He tells you, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in anxiety. “You’re not linked yet, are you?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes in frustration as you try to think. You know it’s the only way. You have to take some of the burden off of him, make him share it with you. It’s the only way he’ll survive right now. “Do you think you can get into Decay right now and knock him down somehow?”

He hesitates, “I can get inside. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to touch him at all.”

“You have to.” You plead, desperately. “I just need him down for ten seconds, tops. As long as I can get inside of her, I can save him.”

He looks at you like you’re insane, and maybe you are. But you know you can’t live with yourself if you don’t try something. Tenko nods.

“I can do it.” He tells you. You rush passed him, following the stairs down to the training area. You feel Tenk grab your wrist firmly. “You bring him back, okay?”

“I will.” You nod. 

He dodges Blue’s movements, weaving between her legs as he finally makes it to Decay. It takes a few moments for him to connect, but he goes straight for Blue. You watch the giant machines fight one another, but it’s clear that Blue’s lack of control hinders much of her ability. She needs Touya just as much as he needs her. It’s tough for Decay to dodge her swinging arms, but Tenko manages to knock her down quickly.

The fall shakes the room, but you waste no time running for Blue. Climbing over the side of her, you manage to touch your thumb to the pad on the outside to open her chest up. She begins to stand up, and you slip down, grabbing onto a bar beneath her ribcage. You let out a frustrated groan as you try to pull yourself up over the edge of the cockpit. Finally making it over, you see Touya sitting there, still connected to his pilot’s chair, eyes glazed over and blood gushing from his nose. You push the button that closes the panel in Blue’s chest, and you’re suddenly alone with him. 

Touya’s body is being jerked around by the movement of the mech, and you hang onto the walls of her chest in order to make your way to him. You situate yourself in his lap, taking his head in your hands as you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“You fucking asshole! I told you to take a break.” You sob, resting your head against his as you try and think of what to do next. “Touya, please. Please, baby, I need to you come back. Just fucking come back so I don’t have to do this without your permission, please.”

With no response from him, you wipe your tears, coming to terms with the fact that you have to complete the soul link now, or he’ll die. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Touya. Please forgive me.”

The soul link isn’t exactly an action so much as it is a feeling, an experience. There’s no trigger for it, no way to make it happen. It just begins. 

It’s Touya, aged thirteen, wild, chubby-cheeked and happy, in the pilot’s seat of his father’s HERO. It’s his drive, his determination, his anger, his hurt. It’s the day he snuck into battle, the day he couldn’t get out, flesh burning and fusing to the metal walls of his mech, the feeling now deep in your skin. It’s you, aged fifteen, hopeful, alive, shaking hands with your first pilot. It’s your heart, much too big and much too open for your line of work, it’s your passion, your fire, every piece of you that was broken down again and again until there was nothing left. It’s Touya and it’s you, and every single bit of your souls now tied together in one big knot. 

There’s nothing but darkness. And then there’s screaming. And then you can hear everything. Every thought running through Touya’s brain right now echoes in your head as you slowly come back to yourself. He can hear the same of yours.

It’s overwhelming at first, to have two sets of thoughts in your head at the same time, but you manage to focus. You can feel an anger inside of you like you’ve never felt. It’s almost like it’s your own. You need to come back. You’ve lost control of Blue.

In an instant, you feel yourself come back to your body, now straddling Touya like before, you feel his arms shoot around you and he tucks his chin over your shoulder to pilot Blue like he’s used to doing. He pays no mind as he presses up against you, but you feel your heart rate increase at the closeness. 

He’s so close.

I have to be. You’re in my lap.

Shit. I didn’t think—

Clearly.

I can’t fucking believe you. I told you we weren’t going to do this.

You were dying!

Then you fucking let me!

You’re jostled around in his lap for a moment as he stops Blue from destroying any more of the training floor, and Touya wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady.

He gains control of her quickly, moving her toward the edge of the room. You tuck your face into his neck, not wanting to distract him and keeping your thoughts at bay so you don’t overwhelm him. He powers Blue down, severing the neural connection between the two of you, and shoves you from his lap and into the pilot’s chair like you’ve burned him. He storms out of the cockpit, climbing out of his machine and leaving you inside. You think about the argument you had within each other’s head, how Touya would have rather died than be linked to you like he is now. 

You slump against the seat, comforted by the metal cage you’ve been left inside of. 

[vveirdnobdy]

Cale having Claustrophobia living in my head rent free rn. It’s something that I’m like in my heart of hearts it must be a thing. But I never see it talked about in fanfiction and I’m rotting cause I personally feel like this should be more of a thing.

You can’t tell me those three days didn’t effect him at all man

[tawnyevergreen]

I was thinking about Lost John’s Cave again

[sorcerous-caress]

A beautiful webbing | Minthara

[Smut, fluff, angst, oviposition, claustrophobia, aphrodisiac, egg insertion, Drider Minthara, spiders, blood and graphic descriptions, happy end, marriage, nb!Reader]

did you hear about the person who married a drider?

The cave was bigger than any you've ever seen. Stone walls isolating a huge area of the underdark, illuminated by various plants in all shapes and sizes, from the smallest mushroom pulsing with a neon like yellow, to the biggest of trees. 

The tree definitely caught your interest, its branches curled around the entirety of the cave's dome, bright silver wood hugging the cold dark stones. Various blooms in all shades of blue were scattered alongside the branches.

A haziness filled the air, specks of blue dust floating and glittering as they left their mother tree. 

A sussur tree.

You took a cautious step forward, knowing that you forsake using all magic the closer you got to the cave's entrance. Whether it was your own birthright, a one earned with hard work and studies, or even a one granted from a more powerful being. It was all seeped from your entire being.

Even your equipment wasn't spared, all the enchanted swords and flaming shields became nothing by pieces of metal upon arrival. Magical scrolls becoming akin to overpriced napkins, at least those had a use in here.

The cave entrance was deliberately put front and center, as if taunting you and challenging all those who passed by.

No amount of skulls and scattered bones throughout the gardens of the cave would've done the numbers justice, the waves after waves of so called heros that came as a bitter home welcoming gift were well above the hundred of thousands.

Yet the scattered skulls barely surpassed the hundreds. Maybe they were buried deep just when the sussur tree took roots.

The day Minthara Baerne got called into a test of Lolth was the day the underdark held its breath in suspension.

One of the most promising princesses in line for the leadership of the oldest known noble house in all of drow history. Even petty drow fights seized for a single day as all eyes were directed towards her impending fate.

Yet no one knew what the test was about, was her loyalty called into question? Or was it a promotion from Lolth. Just what did the spider queen promise her.

If anything, the Baerne house accepted it as a blessing. They've always prided themselves on their loyalty and faithfulness, even their high wizard has passed several loyalty tests.

Instead of entering the cave just yet, you decide to stroll through its surrounding gardens. Appreciating every flower that blossomed through the butterfly effect of the great fall of a princess. 

The disgraced princess is what they called her now. Even at her worst, many still held great fear of her in their hearts, not daring to drop her honorific title that's her birthright.

The deeper you walked through the gardens, the more evidence of the calamity you could find. Piles upon piles of aged skeletons and bones being weaved through each vine of plants.

It was eerie how all the bones were still attached together, as if their bodies were left there for the plants to feast on until nothing but a skeleton remained.

Some of them had their arms wrapped against the thorn filled vines, as if struggling to free themselves from its clutches to no avail.

You kept walking, something called for you, at the opposite end of the entrance. 

Minthara's test was considered one of the largest gatherings of the noble houses. At the temple of lolth inside a massive hall, the Baerne matron sat in the front row, Minthara's father, a consort, had the right to sit next to her.

Lower priestesses of Lolth were waiting in front of the curtains that veiled where the test was taking place. Their higher sisters were inside, determining the fate of Minthara.

Her own sisters, both from full blood and half blood, were whispering amongst themselves about her possible fates. 

The youngest of them, still unaware of drow customs, suggested the idea of her failing and being turned into a drider. She was immediately hushed and berated by the other sisters as they feared her words might reach one of the priestesses, or worse the Matron herself.

This wasn't the first or last test the Baerne house goes through, countless of their males were brought into their knees in front of the spider queen herself.

Yet maybe, because it's a woman this time, its implications have put everyone on edge.

You were almost at the end of the garden, a sour smell of rot and decay suddenly invaded your senses. 

Visible plant roots withered the further in you went, the dirt on the ground stained bright red, it was more akin to mud than dirt. Your steps squelching through the gore and viscera.

While the sussur vines extended far beyond this spot, not a single stray leaf could make its way to the heart of this place. A small bubble where magic could thrive freely.

Devoid of any plants or life, only the remains of countless battles stacked against each other, pulling themselves down by the combined weight of their flesh.

Something called for you, it was getting stronger. You had to endure the pungent odour of death and decay.

In a small puddle of blood that has a sheer layer of magic reflecting off of its surface, a dark green mix of leaves intertwined in symmetry of needle sharp thorns. The bush seemed to thrive in this garden of blood.

A single rose could be seen deep inside the bush, caged by thorn covered steams. It demands a sacrifice of flesh to pluck the flower.

A common bloodrose, despite the name it was anything but common, two thirds of the population could live through ten centuries and never encounter one.

Not to mention how it managed to blossom while caged by a sussur tree, the very polar opposite of its existence. The nature of a blood rose could only thrive on an endless source of blood, agony and most importantly magic. 

Magic was the only thing that could protect its fragile petals that are overly sensitive to any temperature changes, magic encased it from the second it was a mere budding rosette.

A sussur bloom and a bloodrose co-existing in the same garden. A miracle in front of your own eyes.

The flower is thirsty, you realise, it's calling for you to feed her. 

You reach your hand towards the caged rose, the tip of your finger gets pricked against one of the sharp needles, a single drop of blood escapes from your body before your blood cells start clotting the small cut.

It's so small, you have to gently shake your hand to get the droplet to fall.

It gets caught on the edge of a petal, the flower visibly blooms more as it drinks in your blood. 

You look down and see spikey tendrils retract their hold around your ankles, you weren't even aware of it when they wrapped themselves around you.

The voice in your head vanishes, you're free to move again.

As you hurry and retreat back into the lush mushroom filled gardens, the only remaining evidence of what felt like a fever dream are the trail of blood your boots leave behind on the moss covered dirt.

You make your way back to the entrance, walking alongside the cave walls.

The news of the Baerne family scandal reached even the surface, high elves were openly discussing it amongst themselves in official councils, for a week each page printed out haf in some capacity information about the princess turned drider.

Many people wondered what the matron's face must have been like, when the one that emerged from behind the curtains was a monster instead of her beloved daughter.

Was her father killed? What of her sisters?

Part of the reason the scandal was so widespread, is the sinister intentions of the other drow nobles who celebrated this stain on Lolth's favourite house, her golden children.

Yet the scholars weren't interested in the family gossip as they described it. No, they were more interested in how Minthara, a drider, managed to survive when faced with a hall filled with various drow nobles.

In normal circumstances they exile them, but this was anything but normal circumstances.

To kill her right then and there would've been the honourable thing to do, in drow's culture at least. The Matron could've easily killed her and disowned her from the Baerne house.

Some suspected love, most human scholars argued that a mother's love extended further than the worship of a goddess could.

Others sneered at the idea, especially the surface elves, how could a drow love one another? They don't even know the meaning of that word.

But maybe, it was one scholar whose theory was the closest to the truth, a half-elf. Her suggestion was that Minthara actually passed the test, which is why she wasn't killed.

Her theory was torn to shreds and made fun of endlessly after she published it.

You're back where you started, at the entrance of the cave.

Everything looks the same, as if time is a mere illusion in these gardens. The same flowery scented air welcomes you back, silver and blue particles flowing through your legs and inhaling any traces of magic it could find.

Reaching into your backpack, you take out an unlit torch. The all consuming darkness inside the cave wasn't any normal darkness you've seen before.

Igniting the flame, you head into the abyss.

The simple torch light doesn't even reach the walls or ceiling of the cave, it's massive size scattering whatever light your flame produces. 

Step after step, you watched the floor carefully. Mostly because it was the only surface reflecting your light, but also in case of any webs you might stumble onto.

Each drider's web was personalised for their own use, harming anyone else but their own maker. A thin almost invisible line of silk was stretched impossibly thin and tensed to connect all the webs together, the slightest touch could send a growing vibrating alarm through the entirety of the cave system.

So you diligently watched your steps, it only took one lucky stray string of silk for your doom. 

Even if you somehow managed to break free, the invisible coating of venom on them would've spelled your unavoidable death.

Through the humid air, you could still see the silvery particles flowing. Although their quantity thinned more and more the deeper you went into the cave.

Back at the entrance you couldn't even make out what the walls or ceiling looked like, but now, after you've gone through several branching pathways, the cave closed in around you.

It still wasn't anything but big by any means, much larger than a mere bear cave. But it was more comprehensively big instead of the unrealistic massive size it held at the start.

At least that was the illusion that these pathways gave you.

There wasn't a sign of life, no animals, no insects, not even a single fly. Just the silence and soft echo of your steps.

Wasn't it for the various spider webs, woven every so skillfully at every corner and turn, then you would've doubted a drider resided here.

You haven't seen her yet, haven't heard a single sound or a hint of spider legs scuttering. 

Maybe she was out hunting? Maybe you got lucky and found her when she was resting?

Your flame was dying out, even if you turned back now, it won't be enough to get you back out and you'll end up lost in the darkness as you tried to navigate your way out of this maze-like cave.

There was no option but to keep going.

It was only a matter of time before the Baerne family scandal was overshadowed by some other scandal, some human wizard's attempt to ascend to divinity or something. It seemed like there's always one of them per century and they always fail, yet the public eats it up each time.

The history book you've read didn't mention what happened to him, instead jumping ahead to the other documented major news of the past century.

You didn't care much honestly, you were too preoccupied in your search for the spider princess tale origins, and that archive book was enough evidence to empower you through this tedious journey in the underdark.

History long forgotten, the Baerne family recovered and is still ruling the underdark. Sometimes something is too big to fail.

You've researched her for months, getting your hand on each and every documented work about Minthara. Even buying the overpriced drow books and papers that came out around the scandal.

With all the endless questions and theories everyone wrote about her, not a single soul mentioned the first thing that went through your mind after hearing her tale.

How lonely it must have been for her.

Drider are known for their unstable mental health, yet madness wasn't something that Lolth handed to them alongside the eight legs.

No, the madness was acquired after years of isolation, exile blurring their sense around the passing of time. One day you're surrounded by your family and loved ones, the next you're deemed a monster unfit to share society with the rest of us.

Chased out by the threat of violence, your own reflection and body altered beyond recognition at times. How cruel of a fate Lolth gifted her children.

No more walking, no more music, no more fun. You and the fate of silence for the rest of your life. 

It would drive anyway crazy, yet people had the nerve to describe driders as people with a death wish. As if it wasn't the fault of the people pointing their fingers and casting their judgement.

Fear keeps us safe, fear keeps us sane.

Driders lacked all known types of fear, much like their own sanity withered inside their brain.

Your torch went out.

Flame extinguished, darkness draped over you.

All consuming, ever cold and numbing darkness. Your brain attempts to make sense of your sudden lack of vision, swirling various shapes into the pitch black surroundings, only for them to evaporate like smoke.

Faces of loved ones, monsters and even promises of an exit. Drawn in illusions as your primal mind tried to lead your path.

You knew deep down that nothing lurked in the darkness, you've been in this cave for what felt like hours by now. You would've seen something.

It wasn't possible not to run into her by now, even a normal sized drider would've crossed your path once or twice. And she was 5 times the size of a normal drider from what you've read, why else would she claim a cave this huge as her own.

With your hand stretched to take hold of the wall, you decided to keep moving forward through the darkness. Eventually you're fated to reach some kind of end right?

Whether it be a dead end or a cave end, is up to the fates to decide.

You kept walking as time lost its meaning, even when the sound of your footsteps disappeared. A soft padding covering the floor that completely masked your steps, you couldn't see what it was in the dark.

Madness knocked on the windows of your brain, paranoia seeping through the cracked glass.

You wanted to speak, to scream, do anything just to make any sound to hear yourself. To hear any sound.

You couldn't hear your own heartbeat, alarms were going off inside your head.

Were you dead? Did that plant hold some kind of poison in its spikes and now you've stupidly signed your own death certificate.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the air rushing through your lungs, you feel the rise and fall of your chest but you still can't hear a single thing.

Stopping in your tracks, your spiral of insanity came to a halt as you spotted a vague dim light in the vast darkness.

Was your brain playing tricks on you again? 

You let go of the wall, desperately running towards the light, breath heavy and sweating and legs sore. You pushed your body as you reached towards the light.

It grew stronger, larger. The faint glow multiplied as another and another joined it the closer you got.

You could see your own hands again, the colour of your skin. Your own healthy and very much alive flesh.

It wasn't an illusion, but a very real glow. 

A cluster of bioluminescent plants attached to the upper parts of the walls and covering the ceiling, extending into a large opening leading to a big room filled with them.

There were scattered like stars hanging up in the sky, each one is of different colours and shapes. A glistening translucent web connected them together, a faint holographic sheer shining through the web in a quiet dance of rainbow lights.

Faerie lights, the silk was enchantment with faerie light.

This room was at the furthest end of the cave, at the heart where that bloodrose laid no doubt. How else could magic survive here unless it was part of the same bubble the bloodrose thrived under.

It was vastly different from the other parts of the maze-like cave you've seen so far. The air was warmer, drier with no humidity. The walls were devoid of any sharp edges, if anything they shined like marbles instead of stone.

The soft dancing faerie lights give a colourful glow to the room. It was trimmed and carved into perfection, this room was the true heart of the cave. 

Stepping fully inside, the lights reflected off of your eyes, you were almost in awe at the beauty of this place. Exploring the left side of the room, you were met with a makeshift bed, made with various soft cloths and feather filled pillows. To your surprise, the bed was more on the normal size, quite big yes but nothing beyond what most nobles had at their homes.

A lyre sat on the table next to the bed, its strings matching the ones hanging above on the ceiling.

Exploring the right side, you found…hay? Not just hay but a large cluster of various soft materials like cotton and wool, connected together in a circle of silk.

Just like any other heart, this cave's heart was brimming with life. 

Dread filled your heart as you realised the true purpose of this room, it's a nursery.

That cluster on the left, you could see various eggs through the translucent parts of the silk.

You were at the nest of the drider princess.

Uninvited.

Yes you wanted to meet her but not like this, not an armed stranger intruding on her cluster of eggs.

Taking a step back from the fragile nest, something stinky caught your boots and you fell back against the padded flooring.

Your thud barely made a noise at all, you haven't really acknowledged the strange floor until now.

Looking down, you were met with extremely thick webs, covering the entire floor. Padding the stones with layer after layer of silk that trailed even outside of the room.

The webs you've spent so much effort avoiding, you were walking on a carpet of them all this time since your torch went out.

Terror echoed through your bones, a sense of impending doom. Minthara had been aware of you all this time

You were sure no one was around you, you swore never saw her. Where could she have been hiding?

Something cold dripped onto your head. 

Your limbs were shaking, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you.

Lifting your head, colour drained from your face as you looked up at the ceiling.

Red eyes met yours.

Long silver hair dangling from her head, crimson eyes marking you as her prey. Another set of eyes were further apart on her forehead, slightly smaller in size.

The upper body of the drow, a lean muscular build, clothed in armour that stopped just before her lower spider abdomen.

The sheer massive size of it was difficult for your brain to comprehend, it was abysmally larger than any other drider. A giant spider abdomen of pure blackness that acted as a huge dark mirror behind her figure. Eight legs sprawled from it, each one extremely long and thin. Sharp knife-like edges and jagged saw-like insides.

A single leg went from her abdomen, at the center of the vast ceiling, and trailed down the walls until its end buried under the thick layer of webs on the floor.

Like a bird cage trapping you in place, a gradient of abyssal black that faded into a rich imperial purple. 

Various gems and gold circlets decorated each leg, rubies and amethysts being the main theme. Much like the armour she wore, it had the clear holy markings of a high paladin of Lolth. Its carvings giving the illusion of wrapping around her figure and hugging it so deliciously, when in reality it no doubt had multiple thick layers of padding and metal for a proper battle attire.

"You've finally used your common sense, p'luvt." Her voice wasn't quiet like the other drows you've met so far, in fact it was full of confidence.

Crawling her body from the ceiling, she came down from the right side of the room as she shielded her nest with her large spider frame.

She wasn't immediately lunging at you, which was a win in your book. You half expected your head to be bitten off the second you attempted to look up.

"I don't mean any harm, I promise." Dropping your backpack and weapons, you made a point to stay on the floor to not give her any false ideas.

"Harm? You think a pathetic thing like you could even harm me?" Her raspy voice held a hint of amusement, as if the idea of you being a danger to her was the joke of the century.

Minthara only needed to learn her body forward to completely tower over you, "If I had wanted you dead, I would have let the poison take you out." She leaned even closer, her face directly above yours.

You didn't move as she cupped your face with her hand, satisfied with the feeling of your skin against her sharp fingers. 

Touching the back of your own head, you were surprised to be met with wetness, a sticky purple fluid. "Is that the poison?"

"No." Her thumb parted your lips, the same purplish liquid bubbled at the tip of her fang before dropping into your mouth. "That's the antidote, the walls had the venom."

Minthara seemed pleased with your obedience as you swallowed without the need for coaxing, her lips glistened with a sheer transparent layer as she pressed them against yours.

The kiss stung your lips, the feeling of an itchiness seeping into your flesh as she pushed her tongue in your mouth.

"That's a small dosage of the poison."

You let her carry you, never resisting as she wrapped her front tendrils around you.

She laid you on the bed, giving you one short kiss after another.

"Your scent is irresistible." She inhaled against your neck, "become part of something greater than your mortal life could ever achieve, become mine."

Wrapping your arms around her, the flame of desire ignited deep below your stomach as you considered her offer, becoming her mate.

You nodded, chasing after each kiss with greediness.

"Use your words." She pulled away, "swariy biu hithern d'ilr ulu uns'aa"

You considered your journey, the months of research, the length you've went to just to find her cave, the madness you've brush against back in the darkness.

Her fangs grazed your ears, "vow my ownership over you." Pulling away, her eyes held a hint of vulnerability in them as she looked at you.

Brushing a side of her soft silvery locks behind her pointy ears, you held her battle worn face so tenderly. "I vow to always belong to you." 

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips onto hers. A soft gentle kiss to seal your oath with.

Minthara took your clothes off, with each newly revealed patch of skin she'd plant a kiss on. Her hands holding your body and positioning it however she pleased on the bed. Your own arousal growing the more her kisses trailed down and down.

"Ussta 'chev" she'd whispered as spread your legs, hooking your thighs above her shoulder, face to face with your most intimate parts.

Her gaze filled with hunger, the taste of your flesh still fresh on her tongue. Leaning forward, her tongue gave a testing swipe against your heat, beforehand her whole mouth started devouring you.

The pleasure was worth the pain, the rush of heat clouding your brain and making you melt. Grinding back and pushing against her mouth with desperation, all shame left you at the feeling of her hot wet tongue.

Your fists held on to the bedding below you, pulling on it the more intense the feeling got, you were quickly stumbling towards the edge embarrassingly fast. She kept her hold on your thighs, going even deeper and deeper.

Making a moaning mess out of you, obscene screams of pleasure echoing through the cave. Her fingers joined soon and collected your wetness on them, trailing down onto your hole as they push against the opening.

That pushes you over the edge, the pressing of her fingertip inside you makes your muscles tense in a rippling orgasm. She lets you ride it out against her mouth, swallowing down all of your juicies and cum.

You taste yourself on her lips as she leans forward to give you a kiss, letting you catch your breath.

Hearing a subtle sound at back her throat, akin to a spider purring. "You were made for this" covered in your own cum, her finger push inside you, opening you up as she adds another.

She watches you with keen eyes as she pushes and prodes your inside, watches your teeth biting into your wet lips, your naked body helpless on her bed.

"Take it." Minthara adds a third finger when she's sure you're ready, "take all of me, let me have all of you." It's so deep, brushing the walls of your insides and reigniting the arousal between your legs.

You see two of her spider legs moving in the back of the room, you can't focus much on them before being guided back to looking at her eyes as you twitch and squeeze around her fingers. 

You're stretched slowly and deliberately, hole wet and hungry around her fingers. By the end of it, four of them can easily slide in and out of you.

Minthara helps your second orgasm by going back down on you, her mouth forcing your twitching body and milking it out of cum. Her fingers never stop prodding you as you shake and shiver from the intensity.

You've came twice already and she is still fully dressed in her suit of armour, holy symbols now soaked in your cum.

Pulling her fingers out, she leans away, looking at you with pride. "You handled this better than I thought you would, you're strong enough to bear my children."

Only then do you notice the three eggs she was craddling with one of her back legs, bringing them closer to you and setting them on the bed.

They were bigger than normal eggs, two almost the size of your fist. You could only fit a single one in your palm as you held it with a worried look.

"Does the size intimidate you?" Minthara encloses the hand carrying the egg with her own, her other hand rubbing the lower part of your stomach, "it will fit, i will make sure of it."

Giving your forehead a final kiss, she moved you with ease to lay on your stomach instead. Spreading your thighs and exposing your leaking hole to her, she insepcts her handwork with two fingers.

You grab into the pillow, burying your head into it as you feel a hard cold shell pressing against your entrance.

"This is your true purpose. Embrace it." She slowly pushes the egg in, her voice laced with lust as she watches it disappear inside you, "embrace having my children inside you, it's my right to breed you."

The egg stretches you out, completely different than her fingers. You feel impossibly filled as your hole keeps helplessly twitching against it, making the egg only go deeper and deeper.

You hear Minthara moan from behind you, the sight of your needy hole making her lose her senses.

Then the stinging feeling of a bite against your thigh, soft flesh marked with her fangs. Something flows into your body.

A feeling of lightness envelopes you, all the pain disappears and is replaced by a comfortable feeling of being filled to the brim, like it's what you're meant to be.

If anything…you still feel empty, heat quickly spreads through your body as you whine against the pillow. More. You need more of her inside you.

"Please…" your voice sounds desperate and strange to your own ears, "Minthara, it's not enough." 

Her fingers go inside you to push the egg deeper, an electrifying pleasure shoots through your spine and makes you arch your back. It's almost as intense as your previous orgasm, the pleasure is melting your brain.

The more she moves the egg inside you the more you leak into her bed, grinding against the mattress cover in an attemp for relief. All the nerves in your body had their sensitivity turned up and everything feels impossibly good as her venom travels through your bloodstream.

Was it even venom that she bit into you? It feels completely different.

You're beginning for the second egg, whining and crying at the deep urge inside you to be a good mate for her, to please and appease your mistress.

Minthara looks at you with love, proud of you for knowing your place, for learning how to properly address her so soon.

She grants you another egg, pushing it slowly inside as you thank her breathlessly. 

It slots snugly against its sister, filling you even more as your brain chirps with happiness at the feeling, the sense of purpose this gives you. You feel Minthara's lips against the back of your neck, whispering how good you're being, what an obedient spouse you are to your wife. 

The third orgasm hits you out of nowhere, you didn't even realise it until you were squeezing your thighs together and pushing the eggs against each other. Staining her bed with your cum and making an even more pathetic display of yourself.

She seems ever so pleased.

The same clickly purring sounding again as she teases your overstimulated areas, enjoying your squirming and shaking. Your brain barely able to take in all the pleasure she's showering you with.

The final egg is left. 

Minthara helps you sit back on the bed, her strong arms holding you up as you lean into her embrace, legs kneeling on the soft matteress with your tears stained face buried into her neck.

Running her hand softly down your back, she lets you cling to her for comfort as you adjust to the new position. Knowing how overwhelming this can be for you to take in, how fragile mortals tend to be.

The air of the room is still comfortably warm, the dancing lights ease your mind as the soft atmosphere helps you catch your breath. You feel safe.

The outside world completely forgotten and ignored "this is your true home" Minthara whispers, "this is your nest, this is where you should be."

And this egg, should be inside you.

After she made no move to press it against your entrance, simply holding it in her arm. You realise what she wants you to do.

You cling to her more, she kisses your ear. 

Leaning forward, you stay kneeling as you spread yourself with one hand, carrying the egg in the other.

Minthara watches you with a smile.

Gravity made the other two eggs press against your hole, attempting to force themselves out. You have to push your fingers inside to get them deeper, push them up until they slot in place, until they're perfectly held by your tight insides. 

Until they're pressing against where your intimate parts are, keeping you stuck in an endless cycle of pleasure.

That one spot inside you, abusing it and harshly rubbing it with every breath you take. Yet no pain or discomfort could be felt, only pleasure in it's purest forms, a mind numbing pleasure.

Your fingers go out with a pop sound, your own wetness traveling down your thighs. Minthara keeps her hold on you firm, keeping you sitting up in place.

Pushing the egg inside you, the familiar delicious stretch follows up soon. You don't think you can even close your legs fully anymore, forced to keep them open and spread so the eggs remain inside you.

When it's halfway through, is when your poor abused hole is stretched to its limits, opened fully spread so wide. Your fingers keep pushing it inside as your hole encloses around the egg, swallowing it too.

Minthara holds your hands, keeping you in the same position as you squirm while the eggs move to adjust to the new addition inside you. You can barely focus on her lips or kiss as a fourth orgasm comes crashing down on your, your vision blurring fully for a second while your brain melts.

You fall into her, she catches you. Hugging you into her body, rubbing your sore thighs where she left several grip marks.

Darkness surrounds you, exhaustion winning.

-

When you wake up, you're cradled against her chest, no armour to cover her soft flesh. The scent of lavender envelopes you as you realise all the grime and sweat has been wiped off of your body, you're completely clean and fresh.

Minthara is the same, the bed has new sheets and there is a soft melody in the air. The gentle strumming of the Lyre she held in her hands.

You're lulled back into another slumber, burying your face against her soft breasts.

-

Time passes, how much? You're not sure. You've kept track of the first few months but after the 7th, everything started becoming a blurr.

This room became your whole world, the only thing you cared for. Even when Minthara brought you back some newspapers from one of her haunts, you just used it as feed for the fire to warm you up.

The two of you fell into a complex dynamic of fragile balance. It was the most consuming and possessive kind of love you've ever felt from someone. 

She truly wanted you for her own, you very own soul even. And in return she took care of all of your needs, keeping you safe and protected as you kept her eggs safe and warm inside you.

Speaking of which, she'd replace them daily. On some days you'd carry up to 6 different eggs, on others she merely tasked you with warming one. It depended on how much moving she planned for you that day.

You've explored the rest of the cave with her, hugging her upper body from behind as belt of silk kept you safely secured to her while she showed you the various turns of the cave. Occasionally taking you to the gardens outside.

There were many intruders on most days, yet she dealed with them swiftly as their bodies were quickly disposed on into the blood garden. 

Her territory expanded after you became a part of her family, your safety was her main concern and she realised it's better to gather a good amount of soliders under her command to guard the outside territories. 

They were drows, from what she's told you, used to be drows just like her, but turned into driders. Working with them irritated her because of how unstable they tend to be, yet something about her massive sheer size made them kneel in admiration and obey her, even when she would've prefered them cowering in fear.

Yet sometimes a gaggle of paladins would slip by, Lathander's or Corellon's or any of those so called good deities that thought it was their duty to purge all evil from the world.

Minthara wasn't impressed by any of them, if the cave didn't kill, then she'd take advantage of the protection the sussur tree offers her and strike them when they're defenseless without their precious magic.

You had plenty of books and gems to waste your time with, practising on the lyre whenever Minthara was too preoccupied to retreat back to her nest.

The bond you two shared, she's described as alurlssrin, the highest form of love a drow can give to another person.

You held her tightly each night, kissed her gently the more of her vulnerability she'd reveal to you after shedding her cold exterior. Becoming her strength when she needed someone to lean on.

One curious night, as the two of you held each other in her bed, you couldn't help but wonder out loud why she still wore the armour of Lolth after all she has done to her.

"My oath still stands" she replied, "Lolth's cruelty can take many forms, this is merely one of them." 

She revealed to you what happened that night, at the test. Telling you about all the brutal trails she was put under, all the humiliation she had to endure.

"I prevailed, much to Lolth's displeasure, deep in my heart, i knew she wished for my failure." Minthara explained, "as a reward, i was bestowed with this so called gift" Minthara sneered, words like venom from her lips.

"It must have been lonely, to live like this for so long" your opinions didn't change, ever since the moment you stepped into the cave, you were still the same exact person.

"It was." She held your hand in hers, kissing your fingers. "But now, I have you. What a great distraction you are." 

-

After a while, the eggs were ready to hatch. As much as Minthara tried to always keep a stoic face, the excitement in her voice was unmistakable.

She wanted the both of you to witness it, all the eggs were put in their original cluster of silk and wool. A warm hearth like fire under them, completely harmless to the touch, born from the purest of magic.

Despite the strange feeling of emptiness inside you, having gotten used to carrying at least one of the eggs each day for months, you still felt great pride and a sense of achievement at seeing them all healthy and ready to hatch.

"They will be normal spiders", Minthara explained, "Lolth prohibits all driders from reproducing."

"I know you find spiders adorable" you teased her, "how come each time one gets lost in your territory, they are let go with a slap on the wrist?"

"Well they're clearly more respectful than intruders who claim they got lost, spiders are simply superior." 

She was smiling, a genuine smile, the wrinkles on her face giving her a soft glow as she admired you, the person she loves most in this world.

Her lips looked inviting, she leaned in closer to you.

But before your lips could meet each other, one of the eggs started shaking, stealing her attention away. 

There was genuine awe in her eyes as she watched the egg, it was her first ever batch of eggs. The first of several to come, as she promised you.

The two of you held your breath when a crack formed through the inner layer of the egg and travelled to the outsider, two fuzzy thin legs emerging from the silk cocoon, moving around as if cutely waving.

"This one is strong, I can feel it." Minthara whispered, holding your hand tightly. You could imagine her cheering for the spider inside.

Another crack though the egg, from the opposite side, another pair of fuzzy legs breaking through. 

After the head managed to break the top of the egg, the most adorable shiny dots for eyes looked in your direction, for a second it looked like the spider was wearing the egg like armour

A laugh escaped you at the uncanny resemblance they had to their mother, god they really are Minthara's children huh.

Blinking your tears of joy away, one second the spider was moving, the next a harsh crack could be heard as the spider laid limb.

An arrow, shot right at the egg from behind you and Minthara.

Your world stopped moving.

The clunking of heavy armour and swords being drawn could be heard, the stretching of a bow string as another arrow was being prepared.

It never got to leave the bow. Minthara was faster than all of them, bigger and stronger than all of them.

But this newborn spider wasn't.

You cradled it in your palm, the shell of the egg falling away to reveal the baby spider inside.

Yells sounded from behind you, flesh tearing and the agonised screams that suddenly got quiet as metal was ripped so shred. Whole bodies torn apart limb from limb like paper.

Minthara's rage didn't quell, not even after each of them laid dead and dismembered. Not even as she shoved their own arrows down their throats and into their lungs.

The spider wasn't bigger than your thumb, you didn't know what to do as you stared at it. 

One of the swords slid down next to you, covered in their blood, its surface so shiny it was akin to a mirror as you stared at your own eyes on it.

A voice called out to you.

A life for a life, blood for blood.

Pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of the sword, it didn't take much pressure for it to get pricked. 

A single drop of blood trailed down your finger, it wasn't bigger than your thumb, you knew what to do.

You gently let it drop over the baby spider, the blood seeped into its body.

Minthara went to dispose of their bodies, scuttering quickly on the ceiling as she made her way to the end of the garden.

You couldn't take your eyes off of the spider, waiting for it to open its own eyes.

The most adorable shiny black dots for eyes met yours

Breathing a sigh of relief, you felt the little bug wash itself with your one drop of blood, slowly regaining its strength.

"Look" you said when Minthara came back, sitting next to you, "safe and healthy, it's really strong like you said."

She gently took the spider in her hand, seeing the small thing crawl around her fingers. There was a look of sadness on her face, a frown to her lips.

"I have failed you" she didn't meet your gaze, "I swore to protect you, and i have let these insects crawl freely into my house, our home."

Your hand enclosed on top of hers, "you were caught off gaurd, it's not your fault."

"No." Her brows furrowed, "I am never off gaurd. I have prepared for this day, i have tested all the webs myself."

The spider curiously went to explore the rest of the room, jumping from Minthara's hand onto the webbed grounds.

She pulled you closer to her, "I couldn't hear them in, I couldn't see them."

She was feeling weak, you knew how much she hated that feeling. For someone to best her.

"What about the sussur tree, Shouldn't it have stopped them?" You rubbed her back with your free arm, feeling one of her spider legs wrap around you.

"....I thought so too. But their magic, it was unnatural, not like anything I have seen before." 

She swallowed as she continued, "the crests on their armours, the magic books they carried, it held symbols of a god I could not recognise."

"Doesn't Mystra control all magic?" You were growing more confused by the recent events

"Apparently, not anymore." 

Your conversation was cut short as another egg began hatching. This time, Minthara blocked the room entrance with her spider abdomen to not take anymore chances. 

The rest of the batch hatched safely to your joined relief, everything went well and you had a cluster of fuzzy small spiders running around and playing with the fearie lights enchanted silk robes.

Minthara stood up, offering her arm to you as unspoken request to let her carry you. You gladly accepted.

Taking you into her arm, she moved the both of you to the other side of the room. Placing you on the bed with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I have something that I want to show you." One of her spider legs dug through a silk cocoon buried until the webbed flooring, bringing it up and placing it into your hand.

It was different, the silk was finer and more shiny than her normal silk. The cocoon was also wooven with great care. An embroidered symbol of a flower on the outside.

"A secret egg?" You weren't sure if you wanted to ruin the beautiful embroidery of silk.

Minthara shook her head, "open it. It's for you."

Gently prying open the cocoon, something shined below in the hollow insides. Two red petals were rolled up, each one holding a golden ring with a bright clear diamond on top.

Your heart fluttered, stilling your body as your processed the two rings in front of you.

Minthara was looking at you, gauging your reaction. Her red eyes not veiling the love and vulnerability they held in them.

"Ussta 'chev" her lips trembled as she said those words, despite whispering then a thousand times over like prayers against your heated skin in endless nights of passion. My beloved.

Drows Do Not Marry. You remember reading about it over and over in a million different books, drows do not marry but only take consorts.

Yet the rings in front of you told a completely different story.

She asks for your hand.

"You're mine just as I am yours."

You give your hand to her

"And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me."

She traces her fingers on top of yours, kissing your hand

"Take me as your wife, forever."

Minthara places the ring on your finger, admiring the jewel shining against your skin.

Putting on the other ring herself.

You intertwine your fingers, holding her hand against yours.

The happiness that goes through your body is unmatched, it's most joy you have ever felt.

Minthara gently cups your cheek, wiping your tears away. 

The taste of her venom has grown sweet and familiar by now, it tasted like home.

You lean over to give her a kiss.

[cuntry-r0ckst4r]

Claustrophobic

summary- in which you Ethan, Benny, and Sarah all get stuck in one confined space.

tw- claustrophobia, cursing, tbh not really bad.

It's really not that much about the relationship, you can just ignore those parts if you just want one big fluffy group(ish) fic. Sorry this like really sucks, I'm not proud of this at all omg.

established relationship (Ethan x reader)

The nerd hunt. It was a shock to no one that your boyfriend and his friends were geeks, but what was a shock was when they wanted to go hunting for some weird monster geek shit. The only ones that complained were you and Erica. The only difference is you went, she stayed home. Probably going to a party instead. You just wanted to go to have more time with Ethan and hang out with him.

"So where are we even going to?" You ask while getting in the back of Benny's grandma's car. Ethan had gotten in after you.

"I don't know exactly the place's name but it's-" Ethan had started before he was interrupted by an excited Rory.

"To an underground cave!" Rory had exclaimed, "we're going to look if there’s gonna be any mummies in there!"

While Benny and Ethan rolled their eyes, you and Sarah just laughed at the pure excitement from Rory.

"Well I'm going to tell you ahead of time, there is a low chance of finding any mummies in a cave?" you inform him while laughing.

Benny starts the car and has to give it a second before starting your drive there. About 20 minutes into the drive Ethan held your hand, he was definitely nervous about it, hyping himself up the 20 minutes that had passed.

After about an hour of driving we arrived at the cave, that was when I realized exactly how this was going to be. It was a small entrance, meaning it was a tight tunnel.

"Is now a bad time to mention I'm severely claustrophobic?" you asked the general audience of the car while chuckling.

"seriously? we live in a place where vampires, witches, and just monsters are like most common... and you're scared of tight spaces?" Benny says annoyed.

All you could do was roll your eyes at him as Sarah, Ethan, and Rory get out of the car. Ethan helps you out of the car aswell.

Once you all have been walking in the caves for a while, you realize that these halls are actually huge. Until you all see an elevator. An old, tiny, elevator. It was the only other way to go than from where you had come in from, which you wouldn't even remember how to leave.

You all go in on the tiny elevator, once the elevator started shaking you could feel your body going off. You were sweating, clinging onto Ethan's arm, nauseous, shaking, and there was so much weight on your chest that you couldn't breath.

"I can't do this, i told you i cant do enclosed spaces, especially you etha-" you start to yell.

The elevator stops. The doors didn't open. Now you really start panicking. A million words in your head at once, several conversations happening at one time in your mind just to overwhelm you. You wanted to sob, scream, cuss out everyone in the elevator. Except that wouldn't help anything. So you check your phone to see if you have service, of course you don't. You're more than 20 feet underground. Then Benny starts banging on the walls of the elevator.

"If you're a nerd, act like one. That won't help." You yell at benny.

You try to pry open the doors, didn't work. Rory was smashing the open button, but still it wasn't opening.

That's when you had this idea, "hey vampires, what if you took us up to the top of the elevator and got us out of the hole thats already open! Because ya know, super strength, ability to fly, can't die if you fall and what not are good ways to help us out in this kind of situation." You explained as calmly as you could while you still feel like you couldn't breath from the amount of pressure on your chest.

Sarah and Ethan look at you, agreeing with you that we should do that. Meanwhile Rory hadn't payed attention to a single thing you had said just now.

Except they were able to do it successfully, it's also quite safe to say that you were all running out the way you all came out. You and Ethan running hand in hand out.

Once you all made it out of the cave, you and Ethan were the first ones out and you two stood next to the entrance to the cave. Not wanting to block the exit/entrance.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Ethan asks you, trying to catch his breath.

"It's okay, I'm okay." You tell him, hugging him and putting your face into his neck.

He hugs you back. He had tried to help when you started freaking out about the elevator but then it stopped and you all had to figure out what to do to get out. All he did was hold your hand the whole time.

Except it was enough to help you both think straight.

"ugh get a room." Benny said groaning as he saw you two, he and the others were walking slow out of the cave finally.

i do NOT give permission to copy or publish my work onto any other sites, dm me to translate any of it. otherwise there is no given consent for translation of @s3xiel4ss .

hey thats my masterlist!

Finished Writing: Fri May 24, 12:28 AM.

Count: 846 words, 4491 characters, 69 sentences.

[lunar-lumi]

so fucking conflicted about oceangate. one one hand, yeah, that was such an incredibly stupid thing to do. why would you spend a fucking insane amount of money to get in an iron-lung-esque death trap controlled by a repurposed video game controller to visit a gravesite where so many people, the poorest of them especially, horrifically died? the things that billionaires do. the whole situation just seems surreal to me.

but also, what a horrible way to die. stuck in a cramped tin can, suffocating, lost in the depths of the ocean. one of the passengers is allegedly only a teenager. no matter how stupid and hubristic those billionaires were, no one deserves to suffer through or die from such a horrific event.

important addition: the oceangate disappearance has gotten way more news coverage and attention than the greek migrant mass drowning. 700 migrants or more from syria, egypt, and pakistan were on that ship. the greek coast guard did nothing when the ship sank under their watch. the people aboard that ship are much more deserving of our sympathy. i hope everyone who died can rest in peace. i hope their loved ones can get the support and care they need. i hope all survivors recover physically and emotionally.

i urge you to read more about it yourself. here’s an article.

[clu-ven]

The Closet

Summary: The Wolfpack is sick of the constant arguing between you and Wolffe, so they take matters into their own hands. Surely if you and the Commander were accidentally locked into one of the supply closets, you’d come to some sort of middle ground, right?

Well, there’s one thing they’re forgetting… you’re claustrophobic.

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack 

Word Count: 4.7k

-> Reader uses she/her pronouns - masterlist can be found here <-

“It’s the perfect plan!” Boost exclaims, slapping the table in front of him for emphasis. 

The mesh hall is relatively crowded today, many hungry troopers finally getting some time to relax after another tough mission. Despite the loud chatter of the room, Sinker keeps his voice low. 

“I’m not sure,” he concludes with the shake of his head “it sounds risky and Wolffe is in a bad mood as it is, I don’t want this to make him worse”.

At the other side of the table, Boost shares a mild look of annoyance with Comet. “C’mon Sarge, this solves all of our problems!” Comet replies with a whine. It took him and Boost the past week to come up with this plan, putting more time into it than they’d like to admit.

With a deadpan voice, Sinker replies “Oh so this will end the war? And kill Dooku? And wash the gunships? Each and every problem we have will be instantly solved if we lock them in a supply closet?”.

Boost shrugs, trying to stay optimistic “You never know”. Sinker scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother. 

The plan was simple but Comet and Boost couldn’t do it alone. They needed Sinker for this to work. Sighing, Boost leans across the table “Look, all you have to do is get her into the closet on the lower deck, that’s it”. 

Sinker is still unsure. “We’ll get the Commander, shove him in there, lock the door and ta-dah! Job done” Comet adds. 

This doesn’t sound like a good plan. Sinker knows that but it is enticing. He’s not sure if he can handle another mission full of you and Wolffe’s bickering, the two of you proclaiming you can’t stand the other.

Missions would be much easier if you both avoided each other but no, despite the constant arguing you two engage in, you will still insist on being near one another, whether that be sharing the same holomap (which is an absolute nightmare to witness) or standing next to one another in a briefing (which leads to you interrupting him and vice versa for the entire. damn. briefing.).

Sinker wants to say no, to put a stop to his brother’s shenanigans but would this do any harm? Maybe if you both got the opportunity to confront one another and get all of this arguing out of your system once and for all, then you might come to some sort of middle ground and let bygones be bygones.

“If I agree to this…” he begins and Boost impulsively throws his fist in the air “Yes! You're in!”.

“I said if…” Sinker says sternly “if I do this then the two of you have to wash the gunships”.

Boost nearly falls off his seat “H-how many are you expecting us to wash, Sarge?”. 

“I want four done by the end of the next rotation”.

Although Comet has never experienced a heart attack, he’s sure this is how it feels “What?! Four? C’mon Sinker, be reasonable”.

He folds his arms “Boys, if you want my help then that’s what it’ll cost ya”. Exchanging looks to one another, Comet huffs “Fine, we agree”.

***

The sound of your name makes you look up, eyes wide as you scan the corridor. Manoeuvring through some troopers, Sinker comes into view. 

Closing your datapad, you give the Sargeant your full attention, a relaxed smile on your face. 

“Sinker, what can I do for you?” You ask.

A flicker of sympathy crosses Sinker’s face as he answers “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me get some batca patches from the supply closet. There’s a whole box in there but, well, y’know me, I accidentally pushed them behind the shelving unit and now they’re stuck between that and the wall. Do you think you could get them for me?”.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, so quick to help that it makes the ball of guilt in Sinker’s stomach grow “lead the way”.

While usually you and Sinker always find things to talk about, he’s strangely quiet during your walk to the lower deck. It’s not something that alarms you but instead, it worries you. 

It’s no secret that things have been intense lately. The missions have gotten deadlier, injuries are harder to aid and the Separatist army seems to be growing more and more by the minute.

Even something as simple as accidentally knocking some bacta patches behind a cabinet seems like a dire problem nowadays. 

“It’s that one, just up ahead” Sinker slows his pace, pointing at one of the closets. 

“You’re not coming in?” You quirk an eyebrow, slowing your pace to match his. 

“Hm? Oh… uh, no I have to go help the General with something… sorry, I should’ve said that beforehand” he scratches the back of his neck, preferring to look down at the floor.

“That’s ok, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of this” with a firm nod, you open the door to the closet and disappear inside. Once Sinker’s certain the door has fully closed behind you, he lets out a long sigh. Kriff, that was harder than he thought it would be.

The inside of the closet is dark, the dim lights taking a few seconds to boot up. In your time serving the GAR, you’ve been on a multitude of ships, covered with the most cutting edge technology and yet in each and every ship, the closets are always neglected. 

They’re a second thought in comparison to the other elements of the ship. Cluttered floors, racks that are full of various stock that are probably out of date, a musty smell in the air, dull lights that are incapable of doing their sole purpose. It’s not a place you want to be for a long time.

Trying to look behind the metal shelving units, you mumble a curse. It’s dark behind the cabinets with barely enough space between them and the wall for you to fit your arm through.

Stooping down, you reach into the darkness, trying to find this damn box of bacta patches so you can quickly leave again. 

You’re so invested in finding the box, you pay no attention to the voices outside. “Why would the General want to meet me in there?” A voice says and without missing a beat, another voice replies “I’m not sure, Commander, I thought it was best not to ask”.

Behind you, the door opens but with the position you’re in, it’s hard to turn around and look. “I haven’t found it yet,” you call out “kriff, how far back did it fall?”.

The person doesn’t reply. 

“I know you’re really busy just standing there and all, Sinker,” you huff “but I’d really appreciate some help”.

“Sinker?” the voice scoffs, making you freeze. Clumsily removing your hand from behind the cabinet, you stand up straight and come face to face with Commander Wolffe.

You have to admit, you didn’t think you’d come this close to him, your chest almost bumping against his as you sway backwards to give him some space. “Oh! Commander-“ you start but Wolffe talks over you.

“I know us clones all look the same but the last time I checked, Sergeant Sinker has silver hair and both of his biological eyes”. You can hear the venom in his voice, his tone laced in sarcasm as he continues “Just a tip, so you don’t mix people up next time”.

You can’t help scoff, retorting “Mix people up? I wasn’t even looking at you! Am I just supposed to sense how many biological eyes you have?”.

“You should look whenever someone enters a room,” Wolffe begins to lecture you “that’s protocol 101; always be aware of your surroundings”.

“My apologies, Commander, I didn’t realise I came here to get a lesson in GAR protocol” you snap back. This is a usual occurrence whenever you and Wolffe are near each other, neither of you backing down and arguing until you’re separated by the others.

With the rolls of his eyes, Wolffe gestures towards the door “Just go, I have an important meeting in here”.

“With pleasure” you mumble, trying to move around the Commander without walking straight into him or colliding with the multiple cabinets.

Wolffe leans to the side, huffing loudly just to make sure you know this is a bother to him, giving you space to step over one of his legs and move to the door.

Your fingers brush against the control panel to the door, lighting it up. Nothing happens. You wait a few moments before doing it again but this time you press harder on the panel. Still nothing.

“Huh…” you crease your brow, repeating the action for a third time.

You hear some movement behind you and Wolffe turns his body to face you, peering over your shoulder at the control panel. With his critical gaze on you, you try again but to no avail. 

“Are you pressing it hard enough?” his voice is gruff and surprisingly close to your ear. 

You jerk your head away from him “Jeez, are you trying to make me go deaf? Of course I’m pressing it hard enough!”. With extra force, you press down on the control panel again. 

Nothing. 

Wolffe rolls his eyes, reaching his arm around you and trying it himself “Obviously you’re not if the door isn’t opening”. Stabbing his finger at the control panel, you hear a small “...oh” from behind you when the door still refuses to open. 

“Move over, let me have a proper look at it” Wolffe puts his hands on your shoulders, abruptly guiding you away from the control panel as you both switch places in a shuffling motion.

Now with Wolffe closest to the door, you lean against one of the cabinets, firmly planting your hands on the cool metal. 

You can feel your face becoming flushed, a surge of warmth spreading across your cheeks. The door will open, of course it will. This is just a small malfunction, that’s all. And then you can leave this stupid closet and never come back here again. 

Trying to distract yourself, you decide to subject yourself to small talk with Wolffe. 

“So, why are you here anyway?” you ask, your grip tightening on the shelves as if you’re bracing for impact. 

Wolffe keeps his focus on the control panel, fiddling with it as he answers “The General wants to meet me in here, says it’s something important”. 

Are you hallucinating or did he just say the General? Clarifying, you ask “General Plo wanted to talk to you… in a supply closet?”.

“That’s what I said”.

“And the General said this to you himself?” you pry, trying to ignore the loud thudding of your heart. 

“Not exactly” putting his hands on his hips, Wolffe pauses his investigation of the control panel “hmm, it was Comet and Boost. They said he wanted to meet me here”.

You force out a small laugh “And you believed them? Really?”.

Wolffe says something you don’t quite catch, something in Mando’a. Running his hand down his face, he gives the control panel a death stare for good measure. 

“The bad news is the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t open it from here but the good news is the maintenance droids run on a tight schedule so one of them should be…” glancing over his shoulder at you, his words fail him and for a moment, Wolffe’s taken aback.

The puzzled look on the Commander’s face makes you feel even worse, an overwhelming feeling of dread consuming your senses. “What? What is it?” you question, your tone a little too confrontational but thankfully Wolffe doesn’t bite back (for once).

“Why is your face so red?”.

Your stomach twists in directions you’re not sure it’s meant to, utterly embarrassed by such a question. Averting your gaze, your eyes lock onto the shelves that line the room, so cluttered it feels like they’re swarming you.

If you reach your arm out, you could touch almost any shelf. Could you do that beforehand? Is the room getting smaller?

With the surprisingly gentle call of your name, Wolffe brings your attention back to him, his hands out in front of him as if he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, moving closer to you “are you hurt? Is that why you're in here?”.

With his hand a mere inch from touching you, you flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the cabinet as you screw your eyes shut. It’s not that you don’t mind being touched but the thoughts of feeling such a dominant presence as well as the cramped aura of the room makes your stomach churn. 

“No, no, I don’t like this room,” you blurt out, voice beginning to shake as you continue “everything feels too tight, it’s all too close, I-I don’t like it”.

Wolffe can handle fighting battle droids, kriff, he can even hold his own against a sith but this? He knows he’s out of his depth but Wolffe also knows this isn’t the time to freeze, not when it’s you. Right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn't help.

He notices your tight grip on the shelves, your knuckles turning white as if you’re holding on for dear life. “Do you want to sit down?” Wolffe keeps his voice uncharacteristically soft, stooping to the ground in the hopes you’ll follow. 

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you scan the floor below. It’s covered in loose, discarded items that once sat on the shelves but have since been looked over and forgotten.

Is there any part of this closet that’s clean? That doesn’t feel crowded? Your head pangs, pain lingering across your forehead. 

You let out a whine. Wolffe keeps one of his hands stretched out to you, opening his palm wide “Don’t be stupid about this, let me help you”. 

You don’t think he can help, in fact you don’t think anyone can help you right now. But then your gaze meets his. Wolffe looks up at you with calm, hopeful eyes, his rough exterior and brazen nature slowly melting away. 

You try to take a deep breath but the tightness in your throat makes it an impossible task. You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t even want to look at Wolffe right now, the embarrassment of your involuntary actions making you feel worse. But what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can walk away, you can barely take a step forward without face planting a cabinet.

Nervously nodding your head, you take his hand. Wolffe tentatively encloses his hand around yours, watching your reaction closely. At any sign of further discomfort or even the slight jerk of your hand, he would let go, not wanting to accidentally make matters worse. 

“Good… finally, you actually followed an order” he jibes, the subtle smirk on his face letting you know he’s not purposely dissing you. Although this is a comment you’d usually roll your eyes at, you weirdly find comfort in his typical teasing. 

With his hand to steady you, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. “There you go,” Wolffe comments “were you hurt? During the last battle?”. He knows you said it’s the room causing this but he doesn’t see how that’s possible. Not unless this was somehow caused by an injury you sustained in battle, one that’s only rearing its head now.

You shake your head, though that only makes you feel dizzy. “No, no… i-it’s too tight, this room, I need to get out,” you reply through laboured breaths.

Keeping one hand enclosed around yours, Wolffe uses his other hand to reach up and try the control panel again. He sighs when nothing happens. 

Letting out a small whimper, you slip your hand out of Wolffe’s, using both of your hands to pull your knees up against your chest as you hang your head low. 

You’ll never hear the end of this. Out of all the clones aboard, why did it have to be Wolffe in here? The one person you know will bring this up at a later date just to get the upper hand in an argument. 

What makes it worse is that you know he’ll only view you as being weak after this. Wolffe is a man that’s been through so much in his life, surviving a countless number of battles, disasters and attempts on his life. The heavy feeling of shame makes you hold onto your knees tighter. Wolffe is such a strong soldier and here you are, crumbling because of a locked door.

The soft sound of your name drags you away from your internal self-criticism, followed by a poking sensation on your leg.

Barely looking up, you see Wolffe prodding your knee, repeating your name again as he adds “I can’t help unless you give me something to work with, tell me what I can do”.

Wolffe has always had mixed feelings about you but that doesn’t mean he wants to see you upset. Sure, you’re stubborn… and feisty… and a headache to work with but in fairness, you’ve always been there for the Wolfpack. 

After a tough fight, you’ve helped them bandage up. When you don’t have full faith in a plan (usually one of Wolffe’s) you’ll create a backup plan for when things inevitably go off track. Even on those quiet rotations, when memories filled with loss and regret begin to flood his brother’s heads, you’re there, listening to them. You’re a comforting presence in many of their lives, even Wolffe’s.

But don’t even ask him to say that out loud. That’s never going to happen.

He pokes you again “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere… even if I wanted to”. You huff out a laugh, though that proves harder than you initially thought, your dry mouth making the laugh sound more like a cough.

If you don’t get out of here soon, you think you might get sick, the anxious feelings in your stomach continuing to gnaw away at you. 

“I… I need to get out, I need to leave” with newfound determination, you begin to stand. 

The second you plant your feet on the ground, you know it’s a bad idea, feeling your muscles tremble. It’s as if you can feel each and every one of your nerves twitching, your body involuntarily trembling with panic.

Wolffe is quick to follow suit, trying to stand without knocking into one of the shelves. “Woah, take your time” he says a bit more sharply than he anticipated. 

“No, let me leave, I need to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, your legs go from underneath you. You drop, about to crash back onto the ground when Wolffe catches you, scooping you up in his arms.

“What did I tell you?” He mutters with a huff, fully enclosing his arms around you as he lowers you back down to the ground. “Stay low,” he orders “the last thing either of us need is you fainting and smacking your head against the floor”.

You thought the feeling of someone else near you would make this worse, adding a new layer of suffocation to your mixture of emotions. But it’s actually kinda nice, the warmth radiating from Wolffe acting like a warm, welcoming blanket of comfort. 

Being in the professional setting of the GAR for so long, you’ve forgotten how soothing physical touch can be at times. Although your reaction is subtle, Wolffe notices how you faintly lean into him, your head a mere few inches from resting on his chest. He watches you for a moment, studying your face. 

Thankfully, you have your eyes closed again so he’s not worried you’ll catch him staring at you. Even though you’re in the middle of a panic attack, you look more relaxed than usual. Or at least more relaxed than how you usually are around Wolffe. 

Whenever he sees you, it’s only a matter of time before you both get worked up, the two of you bickering or making not so subtle jabs at one another. But looking at you now, there’s not a single trace of that annoyance he normally associates with you.

“Just relax, take some deep breaths” he encourages you, using his hand that’s resting on your upper back to give you a gentle nudge towards him. Wolffe isn’t sure how else to let you know it’s ok to relax against him, seeing the option of saying it directly being too awkward. 

He gives you a small smile and an approving nod as you do exactly that, letting your body fall against him as you rest your head on his chest.

Your hand comes up to his chest too, clutching onto the firm fabric of his Commander’s uniform, something you’re grateful he’s wearing considering his plastoid armour would be way too uncomfortable to relax against.

With your eyes still closed, you attempt to take some deep breaths, your breathing hitching every now and again. You try to sync your breathing up with Wolffe’s, finding the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to be a lulling piece of comfort.

The tight sensation that grips your heart doesn’t fade instantaneously but you have to admit, it’s nice having someone close. It gives your mind something else to focus on instead of the cramped room, Wolffe’s presence distracting you from your worries.

The only time Wolffe ever expected you to be this close to him is if you had enough of his shit and decided to swing for him. Never in a million years would he imagine you being so peaceful and close to him.

With your voice coming out as a small whisper, you mumble “Thank you”. 

His heart beats faster at your small piece of gratitude, something Wolffe hopes you can’t hear through his uniform. He’s not used to things like this. Give him a blaster and Wolffe can handle himself just fine but holding someone and trying to comfort them? That’s not his strong suit. 

Taking a deep breath, you speak again, this time projecting your voice a bit more. “Did you really think you were meeting Master Plo here?” you sniffle, your head still aching but thankfully, the pain’s beginning to dull. 

Wolffe has to stop himself from doing another eye roll, not wanting to start a fight or get you worked up again. “That’s what I was told” he grunts.

To his surprise, you let out a small, genuine laugh. It makes his hands twitch, wanting to pull you even closer and relish in your laugh but he resists the urge. 

“And who told you that again? Oh yeah, Comet and Boost, two troopers known for their unwavering seriousness and hatred for pranks” you laugh, something Wolffe is thankful to hear again. 

“Alright you got me there,” he admits, knowing it wasn’t the smartest move to believe his troublesome brothers “but why are you in here? Did they say the same thing to you?”.

“Actually it was Sinker,” you reveal, getting rather comfy leaning against the Commander “he asked if I could get some bacta patches he accidentally dropped behind the cabinets”.

You can feel Wolffe deflate, puffing out a deep breath “Please tell me you didn’t actually believe that”.

“Why?” You crane your head to look up at him, watching as he tries to suppress his annoyed expression. 

Although you’d never say this outloud, he looks nice like this. Looking up at him in this position gives you a great view of his jawline, both of his eyes peering down at you and a genuine smile playing at his soft lips.

Damn, maybe you did actually hit your head. Trying to refocus on what he’s saying, you push any admiration you have for the Commander deep, deep down.

“Because the batca patches are stored on the upper deck,” removing one of his hands from you, he runs it down his face “kriff, you’ve been on this ship for months and you don’t even know where the batca patches are stored”.

While you would normally jeer back a response or scoff at Wolffe’s remark, immediately becoming defensive, you find it hard to do that after everything that’s happened. 

You finally feel relaxed again, a calmness settling in your stomach and putting your heart at ease. You’re in no mood to start a fight and frankly, you don’t think you have the energy for it either.

Instead you laugh again. After all, Wolffe has a point. You should’ve known where the bacta patches are kept and if you did then you wouldn’t be in this predicament. It was a silly mistake and at this moment, you can’t find the energy within you to do anything but laugh. 

Wolffe chuckles too, appreciating your reaction. Shrugging, he admits “Can’t blame you too much, it was only last week I realised the caff machine in the mesh hall has more than one setting”.

“Seriously?” you laugh again “But the default setting on that thing tastes like droid oil”.

“I know that all too well” Wolffe shakes his head, almost tasting the sour caff on his tastebuds from the mere mention of it.

You open your mouth to speak again but before you can, the door slides open, the bright lights from the corridor making you squint. A droid whirls into the room, taking no notice of you and going about it’s own business. 

And just like that, your time with Wolffe is over. 

Giving him a small smile, you climb off of him, getting to your feet. Watching Wolffe stand too, a sudden awkwardness hangs over you. Is that it? What do you say now? Thanks for the help but I’ll still call you out the next time you’re a jerk?

Noticing Wolffe’s expression, it’s clear you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Well, I guess that’s that” he nods, gesturing for you to leave the closet. You do so gratefully, shuffling past the droid and stepping into the wide and spacious hallway. 

When Wolffe steps out, you’re sure you see a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. But you quickly brush past it, blaming it on your vision still adjusting to the bright lights. 

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Wolffe asks, though it takes you a few moments to process his words, Wolffe’s head hanging low and voice just above a whisper. You’re not sure why he’s talking so low, it’s not like there’s many troopers on the lower deck to overhear. 

“Yeah,” you try to sound confident in your answer “I’ll take it easy for the rest of the rotation, just in case”. In an effort to persuade him, you give Wolffe a quick smile. 

“Right, well you know how to contact me if you need me…” he replies before realising how soft that sounds, immediately breaking eye contact with you and clearing his throat “or just go to the medbay, yes, that’s the better option, do that instead of contacting me. I’m very busy today”

“Busy getting stuck in closets?” you playfully tease, trying to brush past this awkward energy. 

He chuckles “Better me than you”. Kriff, that sounds too soft too. Wolffe’s not a tender, warm hearted kinda guy, so he’s not sure why he’s trying to be that around you, even if it’s subconsciously. 

Quickly shoving his feelings to one side, Wolffe chalks it up to your rare vulnerable moment bringing out his protective nature. That’s it. The next time he’ll see you, things will be normal, none of this small talk or softened expressions to one another.

With the curt nod of his head, the Commander walks away. It’s true, he does have a lot to do today but if you were to contact again, he’d be there in a heartbeat… even though he’s not exactly sure why he’d feel so much urgency to be there for you again. 

You blink a few times, surprised by his abrupt exit. But then you remember this is Wolffe so his sudden departure should’ve been expected. After all, he’s “so busy”. Rolling your eyes, you walk in the opposite direction, deciding to track down Sinker and give him a piece of your mind.

[sunnixsunshine]

Locked in the pantry

Wasn't really inspired by but half way thru sketching I remember these two fics I read a while back :) ; Panic by FanofMany9503, Claustrophobia by Dandy.

Without effects under cut plus details:

[sorrelfox]

I do not like caves and Lost Johns' Cave did not help the matter.

[gremlin-writes-angst]

Lets Get Food Chapter 2

A brothers best friend fic with Asher x darlin fic and angst

2385 words

id still say this is Pg 13 because it has heavy adult topics but i would not consider it descriptive. I try to be clear with my trigger warning so if you think I should raise my rating or add to the trigger warnings let me know

Tw for this chapter: Extreme exhaustion caused by blood loss, vampire feeding, mentions of rough sex, mentions of sleeping around, scars caused by rough sex, mentions of choking, mention of claustrophobia, mentions of non-consensual choking

i highly appreciate criticism on my writing ,spelling, grammar and story telling. Positive and constructive , so let me know what you think and i hope y'all enjoy : )

tagging @achios @professionallyyappinabtangst

The address attached was familiar.

Asher didn't know why at first, and he was hoping it wasn't someone he knew.

The whole drive, he pondered why he knew this address.

Even after parking and looking out at the place, nothing came to mind.

Until he messaged Darlin, he had arrived.

This is the same place he picked them up last time.

Which had never happened.

There were some places, or people, that they visited more than once, but never in a row.

This one was different.

Asher's mood took a fast dive.

But he didn't have time to think about it as Darlin was pulling on the locked door.

Taking a deep breath and putting on a smile as he unlocked the door

“Took you long enough.”

Darlin's tone made it seem like they had plenty of energy.

But Asher knew to look for other signs.

The shaky hands

Paler skin

The way their face looked like it had no muscles

The heavy breathing

The blinks that were closer to short naps

And of course the marked neck

Normally, Darlin hides a few symptoms at a time.

Today they had all of them.

Once the car door was closed and Darlin was safe in Asher's care, they let the exhaustion take over.

As sometimes needed, Ash leaned over to buckle Darlin in.

The smell of another empowered was strong.

It was abnormal.

Even with the activity and proximity of Darlin and their midnight friends. The scent was never this strong.

Whoever lived in that house wanted Darlin to smell like them.

And Asher had a feeling Darlin wasn't aware of it.

When he finished buckling Darlin in, he pulled up to see the marks on their necks.

It wasn't strange to see the marks; it was actually more weird if they didn't have marks.

But this person

They didn't leave anything to the imagination.

Asher knew Darlin liked it on the rough side.

Just from what he'd seen on their skin and the stories they shared

But this was still something different.

Extreme

There were more bites than needed.

If he didn't know better, he'd assume there was more than one vampire.

then The hickeys

It was hard to tell what was a hickey and what was a bruise.

That was what concerned Asher the most.

The finger bruises that indicated they'd been choked

Darlin was claustrophobic

Darlin doesn't like being trapped.

So it would make sense that Darlin doesn't like being choked.

“Would you stop staring?”

Their eyes weren't even open, but they could feel the intense eyes of Asher.

“Sorry”

He should have left it at that, but he couldn't.

“It's just that you have bruises from being choked.”

Keeping still and with their eyes closed, they replied

“Yeah, that happens when you get choked.”

They were clearly annoyed, but it wasn't enough warning for Asher.

“I know I just sort of thought.”

Then they snapped, at least with their voice, the rest of their body still resting.

“Ash, leave it be. Just drive.”

He whispers a sorry as he starts to drive aimlessly.

Typically that was the plan—drive around till Darlin chose the food that spoke to them.

Asher drove around longer than normal. Darlin kept dozing off, but Asher felt like sleeping after that much blood loss, so he kept shaking them awake.

Eventually, Darlin was able to stay up without Asher's help.

A few minutes later, Darlin said Taco Bell was the place to go today.

When Asher parked, Darlin was still pretty woozy.

“Where’s my sweater?”

Darlin kept an extra sweater in Ash's car, a hooded one to help hide their neck.

They moved their hands around searching with as much strength as they had.

“I've got it, Darlin.”

Then they giggled as Asher reached in the back for the sweater.

He almost didn't believe his ears.

He hadn't heard that laugh in years.

“What's so funny?”

They giggled more.

“That name, it makes me all silly.”

Ash was quite close to their ear when he said it again.

“Darlin”

Darlin closed their eyes, enjoying the sound and the way they could hear that grin.

When they opened their eyes again, Ash was no longer in the car.

He was opening the passenger door, unbuckling them.

They look at him.

Asher felt like a knight in shining armor with the way Darlin's eyes sparkled. At him

He helped Darlin out of the car.

When they got their own standing, Ash unfolded their sweater.

“Can I?”

Ash asked as he presented the sweater.

Darlin nodded and lifted their arms.

Asher pulled the sweater over them, covering the scent the vampire left.

Darlin smelled like them again.

They went into the lobby and ordered their food.

Asher ordered it all, making sure to order 3 times the amount Darlin would typically eat.

He always ordered twice, but he felt today they'd need more.

Darlin stayed silent for the whole thing; they just kept their heads down and ate.

It was around 3 when they finished eating.

Darlin was still clearly worn out.

“I'm going to be honest with you. There's no way we walk in, and David doesn't know something up.”

Darlin's face agreed.

“Maybe, I mean you could stay at my place for the night. Will can tell David we're going to the club. And then later we'll text him that we're too messed up to get to his place, a perfect excuse for us to sleep at my place. Oh, and I've got that whole room for you since Milo moved out.”

Asher was a little excited.

Darlin thought it was cute and mustered up a smile and nod.

And they were off to Ashers.

When they got there, Asher found some clothes for Darlin.

Once changed, Darlin took a nap, which helped them regain a lot of their energy.

While Darlin napped Asher to tidy the place up. His mom always taught him to have a place nice for guests, and he thought Darlin deserved that.

He also found some fuzzy blankets and nice pillows for Darlin, who fell asleep before he could get them anything.

When they woke up, they strolled out to the couch, grabbed one of the fuzzy blankets, and turned the TV on. They wanted to do something with practically no effort.

When Asher finished the dishes, he joined them.

If you could call it that, as he was seated 5 feet away.

They picked a movie and started watching

Asher even made popcorn for Darlin.

He wasn't a fan.

He has no idea why he even had popcorn in his apartment.

As they were watching TV, Asher's eyes gravitated to Darlin's face.

It's amazing what random colors can do.

The way the movie lights cast on their skin.

It was mesmerizing.

At some point, his eyes drifted down to their neck.

He now realized that the shirt he gave them had a wide collar, leaving Darlin's neck very exposed.

And even in the strange light, the marks and brushes on their skin burned in Asher's eyes.

Just as his eyes burned them

They could feel his eyes on them; it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling; people used their eyes to judge them all the time.

It was unfamiliar to know those eyes belonged to Asher.

Asher was the one person they felt would never judge them.

With all that they've told him, he never made them feel wrong.

The most he'd do was cation them without judgment, which was a popular combo.

So feeling those eyes bare into their skin hurt more than ever.

And they weren't known for running away from pain.

“I can feel you staring at my neck.”

Asher choked at nothing, and as much as he knew he should look away, he couldn't.

“I'm—it's just the choke marks.”

Ash explained

“I thought we talked about this.”

Darlin said, but they weren't upset, so safely Asher continued.

“Well, I guess you just never mentioned you liked that stuff.”

Darlin stared at Asher.

He was the one feeling judged now.

making him talk more

“Well, you've been claustrophobic for as long as I've known you; choking seems like it'd be triggering. And like I said, I just didn't know you were into it.”

Not upset but also done with the conversation, Darlin throws a popcorn kernel at him.

“Well, you wouldn't know, because we've never slept together.”

A smirk was on their lips; their eyebrows were up.

Everything said, 'Let's change that.'

Except for their eyes

Hollow

If they let him look longer, he might find fear.

Fear that he realizes he was right

They didn't like being choked.

But it didn't matter; it already happened.

Asher looked into their eyes, Darlin turned away.

They sat and finished the movie.

Asher watched Darlin breathe throughout the rest of it.

Their breathing was only explained as being on the brink of panic.

But he didn't know what to do.

So when they got up to head to bed, he did nothing.

In the morning, Asher got up before Darlin.

Maybe he'd try making them breakfast.

Bad

Very bad idea.

Smoke was the smell that woke Darlin.

It wasn't enough to worry about a fire, but enough to check what was going on.

Emerging from the room, they stood in the open living room staring at a panicked Asher, trying, rushing a pan of, well, Darlin couldn't tell, but he took it to the sink, turning the Faust on before Darlin could stop him.

“What the fuck, Asher?”

He hadn't realized they had seen that.

He looked and smiled at them.

That damn smile

Everyone always said his smile was his best feature.

They weren't wrong.

Darlin walked into the kitchen, grabbed a towel, and turned the water off.

They opened a window and started fanning the pan.

“Go open more windows.”

They instructed Asher, laughing to themselves. Everyone knows Asher can't cook, so why did he even try?

When Asher returned, Darlin scolded him.

“Unless it's an active fire and not a grease fire. You don't need to put it under water, because now your place is full of even more smoke.”

He listened intently, probably because it was Darlin, which he preferred. Being scolded by Darlin over David any day

“Got it. But what's a grease fire?”

Darlin closed their eyes, needing Second to deal with him.

It was even harder because he was so honest and so cute.

Like a golden retriever

They wondered if maybe his relatives were dog-shifter golden retrievers.

After cleaning up and giving Asher a detailed guide on dealing with various fires, the two head out, first for food, then back to David's. Darlin lived there; it was David's place; Darlin didn't pay anything, and David was pretty cool for that.

They parked in the driveway, and Asher moved to get out, but Darlin grabbed his hand.

“These marks are still way too visible.”

They looked at the passenger mirror.

“Even with the hoodie.”

Worry was written all over their faces.

They couldn't find a solution and were actively getting worse.

Asher put his hand on their shoulder before flipping up the mirror.

“I've got it. I'll distract David; you'll rush to your room and apply some makeup; he'll never know.”

And once again, he smiled

There must be a calming agent in his smile because, with that simple plan, Darlin was calm and ready to face David.

Darlin put their hoodie up while Asher held the fast food bag; David couldn't stand it, and that was the distraction.

The two entered, and David was right at the door, probably about to go out.

Asher walked straight to him, holding the bag out to him.

David tried to talk to Darlin, but they were able to get past him as Asher lightly shoved the bag into David's chest.

“Hey buddy, I got you some breakfast.”

Instantly, David was distracted.

“This is not breakfast, Asher. Not to mention the fact that it's 11 am.”

Asher put on a puzzled face.

“so??”

David took a breath and sighed before answering.

“Breathing is a meal you have in the morning.”

“But it's 11 am before 12, making it the morning.”

David couldn't argue that even though 6 am was his breakfast time.

Asher was still holding the bag.

“Come on, David, I bought you food; the nice thing for you to do is at least put it in the fridge.”

David's stoic face stared at Asher's before he took the bag and walked to the kitchen.

As David did so, Asher's phone buzzed, a message from Darlin that his help was no longer needed.

David came out of the kitchen.

“Ash, I'm headed to the gym if you want to join me.”

“I don't have any plans for the day, so yeah, let's go.”

Then they stood there, both wondering why the other hadn't moved. David figured it out.

“Ash, your car is blocking mine.”

“Oh yeah, don't worry, I'll move it.”

Ash left to move his car as Darlin came back out.

Head toward the kitchen.

David called out to them

“Tank, would you grab me water from the fridge?”

Tank moved to do as he asked.

Opening the fridge, grabbing a bottle, and tossing it to him

“You got it, man. But David, why is there a bag of trash in the fridge?”

David came closer.

“What bag of trash?”

“This one”

They lifted the fast food bag out, the one David just put in there.

“What do you mean, 'a bag of trash?’ Are you making a joke about how bad fast food is?”

Darlin laughs as they open the bag.

“No, David, it's a literal bag of trash.”

Just as David saw the truth in the bag, Asher re-entered the house.

Though David didn't know yet

“Why would Asher tell me it was food?”

Darlin made a few goofy faces for Asher.

“I don't know David. You know, Asher is a weird guy.”

A gasp is what drew David's attention to Asher.

“I am not weird.”

David was already over this and decided he no longer needed an answer.

“Tank, please think that away, Ash, let's go. For the record, Ash, you're the weirdest guy I know.”

Asher defended himself as the two left the house.

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

The Calm

// tw: panic attack, injury, claustrophobia, physical abuse, discussions of missing children

To say that Victoria was on edge this afternoon would be the understatement of the millennium. 

The once comforting quiet of her dorm had fallen to a tense silence during the past week— as if the room itself held its breath for fear of being lashed out at by the girl that occupied it. The shadows cast by the flickering lanterns trembled in fear, and the curtains sat eerily still.

And yet despite the dim quiet of the room, it was all still too much for her. The air conditioning roared in her ears, the dancing shadows were visually overwhelming, and the soreness in her chest ached horribly. Lying in her bed did little to alleviate the pain from the bruises that littered her torso— putting pressure on her back only seemed to make her feel worse. But she hardly had the energy to sit or stand either, let alone walk and go about her school day as if nothing was wrong.

Just thinking about all the work that will have to be done to make up for her frequent absences…

The past week had been an absolute nightmare for Victoria both physically and mentally. 

She cast a glare at the Hatterene beside her bed. The mere sound of Barcelona’s breathing sent a wave of vexation through her. But she very well couldn’t tell her to simply stop breathing. Many would consider that rude. And her mother’s Hatterene was the last Pokémon she’d want to be rude towards.

The Pokémon in question spared a glance at the girl in the bed, flicking her tendril of hair from side to side like the tail of a cat. A warning. A silent command for Victoria to calm herself by any means necessary. Suppression of the self.

They both remember what happened the last time everything had been “too much”…

Victoria broke her gaze from Barcelona, turning away in the bed to face the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block it all out. The lights. The sounds. The thoughts— both hers and everyone else’s.

Her powers were both a blessing and a curse. 

The young heiress felt a sudden warmth sneaking under her arm. She glanced down to find her Espurr forcing her way into her grasp, curling up beside her in the covers and nuzzling her head into her chest.

Esperanza. 

Victoria watched the little cat press itself against her. The Espurr had been a parting gift from the Wyrmwoods— dear family friends— shortly before she left for Naranja-Uva Academy that summer. They’d treated her like a second daughter.

A replacement for the daughter they’d lost: her best friend, Estelle Wyrmwood. 

… Has it really been seven years? 

The thought had sent Victoria into a spiral. She curled into herself, a lump tight in her throat. The time had flown by all too quickly and yet agonizingly slow all at once— she was acutely aware of the passage of time in her absence, and yet she was caught unawares by the realization of just how much time had passed. Soon, the years without Estelle will surpass the years with. 

(Across the room on the top shelf, the glass display case suddenly cracked.

Barcelona perked up at the sound, directing her attention to the girl beside her.)

But regardless of the presence or absence of Estelle in her life, her life has been defined by her only friend. 

…Well… that’s not exactly true, was it?

Wasn’t Esper also her friend? 

That question had plagued Victoria every day for the past month. What was Esper to her? The answer was complicated. She granted Esper luxuries that she’d bestowed to very few in her lifetime: her extended presence, a first name basis, the permission to use not just any nickname, but that nickname. There was a level of comfort she had with the girl that she found rare amongst individuals her age. She’d outright called Esper a friend of hers to the girls in the elevator. 

By all accounts, Esper fit the criteria of a friend. 

And yet Victoria hesitated to label her as such in her own mind. 

It felt like a betrayal to Estelle. 

Victoria turned her face into her pillow and choked out a quiet sob. Every heave of her chest sent a wave of pain through her torso. Her bruised ribs screamed at her to stop, but with just one moment of weakness, the entire dam had begun to crack under the weight of seven years of repressed emotions.

(The crack on the glass expanded, threatening to shatter at any moment. The flatscreen TV flickered to life for a moment before it too cracked under a sudden, invisible force.

No, not the screen. The whole TV.

The Hatterene whirled around to Victoria to place a handlike tendril on her shoulder, attempting to shake the girl out of the emotional spiral she’d put herself in.)

The young heiress hugged Esperanza to her chest, letting warm tears crawl down her cheeks. Esperanza; the subtle nod to Esper’s namesake had not gone unnoticed by her. Had she actually picked a name that fit her Pokémon? Or had she named the Wyrmwood Espurr after her in a poor attempt to fill a seven year long void?

Was she using Esper as a replacement for Estelle?

(The glass casing shattered into a million tiny shards that floated into the air. Loose objects scattered about the room levitated themselves from where they lie. A sudden pressure began to build within the dorm, like an invisible force was squeezing the outer edges of your skull, threatening to crush your brain matter between its palms.

Victoria was a ticking time bomb seconds away from exploding. 

Barcelona needed to act now.

She quickly snaked the tendril of hair around the girl’s torso and pulled her out of the bed—)

Victoria was suddenly ripped from the comfort of her bedsheets. Esperanza flew from her grip and was accidentally thrown to the floor. For a brief moment, panic surged throughout the girl’s entire body.

(The Hatterene pulled Victoria into the confines of her hair, encasing her in the cocoon of psychic-imbued strands that enshrouded her body.

When the risk of a psychic outburst was too great, the best solution was to suppress the psionic energy and block it from being expelled by the source.

To choke it out until it passes.)

NONONO. NOT AGAIN. NO SHE COULDN’T DO THIS AGAIN.

Victoria tried to thrash about and kick her legs wildly, but hair slithered up every limb to restrain her, leaving no gap for her psychic energy to escape. The bruises on her torso became increasingly apparent under the constriction of Barcelona’s hair. 

(The floating objects trembled in the air. The cracked TV crumpled into itself under the room’s pressure. The bathroom door flung open with enough force to knock it halfway off its hinges.)

Barcelona frowned at the state of the room. Hm. It seemed this outburst was particularly powerful. This could prove to be an issue…

Glancing to the nightstand where Victoria’s Pokeballs lie, she levitated them into the air and released the Pokémon from within.

Matador and Maria were quick to appear before her.

The Hatterene barked orders at the two Pokémon, directing them to assist in restricting Victoria’s psychic outburst to the confines of the room. They needed to act now before—)

A loud wail suddenly erupted from the other side of the room, briefly distracting the other three Pokémon to find the source of the noise.

Esperanza had started crying.

Which wasn’t a big deal.

The bigger issue was that this was enough of a distraction for Victoria to thrash her way out of her psychic prison.

And all Hell broke loose.

[twistedtalking]

Can I request a gender neutral s/o | reader who is not scared about talking to Riddle despite his reputation of being harsh on people and also treated him with respect? They called him civilly with his last name and always dropped by to check up on him too.

Unfortunately, for them since he is a yandere-

Finally! A request! 1st one in months.

Thank you!

TW: OOC, storage room, claustrophobia(?)

Context: someone sent u a very creepy letter, something like

"Go to the warehouse or else. I really really love you. Don't you dare disobey me." It was written with blood red ink(?) (Hopefully, it's ink) And for Grim's safety, you obey. Suddenly, the door locks. You see Riddle, and try to ask him for help, but an eery grin rests upon his face.

"Why do you look so surprised? Is this not what you wanted? I mean, you must have known this was coming. You must have wanted this! And as you are very dear to me, I let you.

So why do you look so...

.

.

A-are you shivering? Do you fear me?

This is so unlike you.

It must be Ace and Deuce's fault! You spend too much time with them. They must have influenced you!

Don't worry, dear.

I'll make sure they are

properly punished.

.

.

.

No?

What do you mean "NO"? Is this not what you wanted?

.

" I misunderstood?"

I DID NOT.

You love me! You must've loved me! Otherwise, why would you do all that? Why else if not for love?! You did this because you love me.

You wouldn't have done so much if you had not a smidgen of love in you. "They" must have tricked you! Put you under a spell! A potion perhaps.

I should've been more wary. You attract too many wasps, my rose.

WHO WAS IT?! Was it Schoenheit? Ashengrotto?? Whoever it is, it shall be

"Off With Their Head"!

.

.

Don't worry, dearest.

I'll keep you safe from all these hooligans.

Now stay put. I must punish those who dare touch my rose.

Just stay in this room. Don't take one step out of here. That's an order.

You won't disobey your queen, will you?

.

.

Or has Ace and Deuce influenced you to such an extent. I should forbid them from speaking to you. Perhaps they should be punished-

You'll stay? Good.

[tawnyevergreen]

More Lost John’s because I drew more ✨

I spent a while mapping out the real Lost John’s system, and while each individual location exists, the route they took does not. The statement suggests this:

Deaths Head Hole—>Cathedral—>Lost Johns—>Gavel Pot

Which is not possible, or at least no one has been able to do it, and it would take several days of underground travel if they managed to find a route.

Also of note in this statement: Death’s Head Hole is not so much a tiny hole as it is a massive chasm with a big tree and a fence for rigging. It also goes straight down—no “unexpected twists.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Would you pretty please make another part of heroic betrayal? It’s sooooo good and I love your writing!

Heroic Betrayal — part three

Anything for you @aarika-merrill, happy New Years Eve!

(TW for claustrophobia)

Read part one here

Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

They stopped at a car parked at the edge of the park. Villain walked around the car and opened the boot, then turned to smile at Hero.

Hero stepped back unconsciously, shaking their head. “No. No. No.”

Flynn grabbed the crook of Hero’s elbow and pulled them forward but Hero made themselves grow heavy, dead weight. Flynn’s hand slipped off Hero when they landed on their arse on the frozen muck. They pushed themselves back on their feet, trying to escape.

“No! No! Flynn don’t, please! Please don’t do this!” Hero cried. They kicked out a leg at Flynn when they came closer. “Please, please don’t put me in the trunk please.”

Flynn put a placating hand out to Villain as they crouched down in front of Hero. “I’ll make you forget,” Flynn said softly. Hero’s heart slammed against their chest as tears pooled in their water line.

“No, Flynn. You can’t. I’ll know! You can’t please, please—”

“Hero,” Flynn said, tone a little more firm. “If you drive with us in the car, I can’t trust you not to crash the car or do something stupid.”

“I—” Hero said but the words were whisked away with the hitch in their breath. They couldn’t go into the trunk. Hero reached pathetically for their power as Flynn advanced but it was silenced by the power dampeners and Hero cursed.

They didn’t notice Flynn getting closer until it was too late. Flynn wrapped a hand around Hero’s ankle and yanked them forward. Hero yelped, then screamed for “someone! Someone help! So—”

“Flynn shut them up!” Villain yelled, as Flynn grabbed each side of Hero’s head and locked their gaze on Hero’s panicked ones. Hero felt their body go numb with Flynn’s gaze alone.

“Ssh, there we go. Hero you’re going to forget the journey to Supervillain’s house. You won’t remember you were trapped in the boot the whole ride there. Tell me.”

“I won’t remember the journey to Supervillain’s house. I won’t remember being trapped in the boot.”

“Good,” Flynn said with a smile. Then he took the opportunity to get the dazed Hero to their feet and walk them over to Villain.

“It’s so creepy when you do that,” said Villain. Flynn flashed a grin on reply. Villain grabbed Hero and said, “start the car. I’ll put them in the boot. Knowing you, you’d let them ride in the passenger seat in a heartbeat.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn laughed. He left the pair of them and walked around the car to the driver’s seat before sliding in and shutting the door. He let out a sigh as he turned the key in the ignition. He forgot Hero was claustrophobic. How could he forget that? He remembered Hero telling them that fact in confidence, during one of their late night stake outs. How scared they sounded.

He should have made them forget before they saw the car. Villain climbed into the backseat where the windows were blacked out, and closed the door. Flynn put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, as nonchalant as ever.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[painsandconfusion]

Breathless

Merry Whump of May - Day 1

[“Get back in there” | Ring box | Cliff] (tw: claustrophobia, panic attack, phobia, death threat, failed escape attempt, punishment, self inflicted injury (panic), splinters under nails, manhandling)

[Merry Whump of May Masterpost] [Phobia Whumper Masterpost]

Whumpee’s eyes were burning and blurring over as they gripped at Whumper’s fingers. “N-noonononno please no-”

“Shut up already and get back in there-” Whumper shoved them further into the crate. It had started off as a large shipping crate and now felt like an apple crate, bruising in at their shoulders and knees and ankles as they tried to twist and curl to stash themself tighter into the space. As it closed in on them. Sucked their breath and whisked it away to an unknown darkness that pervaded their mind and dripped cold through their white-hot flesh.

“PLEASE- Pelas e I w-won’t d o it again pl-ease-pplease-!”

Whumper shoved the lid on the box, latching it into place. “Try to pick that lock, you little pest.”

The air in the quickly-heating space stuck at their lungs and slammed in and out of their throat in choppy, uneven bursts. They gasped and shoved and clawed, only distantly aware of the bruises pressing at their bones and the shards of wood wriggling up under their nails. The panic was too thick. Too stifling. 

Forget the apple crate. This felt like a bread box now. A ring box, even. Impossibly small and crushing their bones under its infinitely shrinking horror. 

Pleas and screams kept exploding from them, sucking what little air they had into worthless desperation. “PL-EASE PL LEASE WH HUMPER PLLLEASE- LE T ME OUT O-OPEN TH- SSSTOP-STOP STOP-PLEASE-”

The boards over and around them creaked slightly as Whumper settled their weight onto the crate. Whumpee froze, dreading for a moment the thought of Whumper’s weight cracking through the box and crushing them only to realize that would mean the box was broken and they would be better able to wriggle out or at least get some fresh air inside. They pushed against the spot. 

Whumper mused as they sat there, “I could do anything right now, you know… Couldddddd…..toss you in a lake. Off a cliff. Bury you in the garden..”

Whumpee’s sobs started fresh, thrashing gaining new strength. Their heart twisted and stabbed. They couldn’t breathe- “Nn--onp plp-lease-ep-pleas-”

“We don’t have to do that, though, do we? Because you’re not gonna pick any more locks.”

“Y-ees-y– nn-n-omore-!” Just desperately agreeing to anything that had even the vaguest promise of getting out. Nothing else held their attention as darkness grew and their head weighed more on their aching shoulders.

“Good. I’ll leave you in here tonight to let you really think that over before we try again.”

tagging isn't sparking joy today, i am so sorry-