#and they and the people around them can never escape the threat that lingers w/ the character in question surviving

[spotlightstudios]

I'm alive when I shouldn't be. Not that I've been revived or someone took the bullet tor me. I just... shouldn't have survived a specific event, and now it follows me everywhere I go.

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝, 𝐢'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

…but, big spoon, you have so much to do and i have nothing ahead of me.

➺ pairing: jake sully x omatikaya!reader (fluff/angst) ➺ summary: seeing jake was easy, seeing toruk makto not so much. (w/c: 2.8k) ➺ warnings: minor mentions of war & death a/n: inspired by mitski's 'your best american girl' nd dedicated to our fav all-american boy <33 na'vi dictionary at the end !! gif credit goes to @/worldofpandora

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Seeing Jake was easy.

It was shirking clan chores in favour of being held in the safe cocoon of his capable arms on a lazy afternoon, the two of you splayed out on the forest floor as it welcomed you into its clutch, soft grass embracing you, gentle breeze lulling him to sleep. As he slumbers you trace his features gently, eyes first, then nose.

You coast over the worry line that creases just like that when he senses a formidable threat, like the rogue palulukan that strayed a little too close to camp the previous week (or the persistent Omatikaya child that insists on having you braid his hair exactly when Jake’s sat down for you to rebraid his, meaning a rushed job and less scalp scratches for him).

Cautious fingertips are guided by the smattering of tanhi that litter his face, a map provided by Eywa, tiny stars aligning to lead you to your final destination - your favourite destination – his lips.

Being Seen by Jake was even easier.

- flashback -

Two weeks have passed since the fateful day your people reclaimed your ancestral home from the Sky People. The injured have been treated and deceased loved ones have been mourned and committed to Eywa. Now, the clan must celebrate.

Young ones chase after each other's tails (knowing the mood is good enough for them to escape chastisement from their parents), potential lovers dance around their feelings as they dance around the communal fire and elders thank the Great Mother for the privilege of witnessing another night like this – too many eclipses have passed since the clan could revel in shared joy like this.

The evening’s jubilations wind down as eclipse approaches, but the air is still charged with a sense of collective anticipation; you are yet to do what you do best. Gathered clan members form a blue sea, bioluminescent tanhi a mirror image of the stars in the skies above as they seat themselves on fallen logs. 

Deep inhale, shoulders rolled back, head held high and gaze cast over young and old alike, you open your mouth and sing. Entranced, Jake looks up from where he was refilling his cup of pongu pongu (after falling victim to a particularly wily adolescent Na’vi bartering for the drink reserved for adults of the clan) and his amber gaze settles on you as he listens to the legend of a valiant Omatikaya warrior made song. His legend.

His song rolls off your tongue, volume ebbing and flowing like the waters of the Eastern Sea, reaching ‘ahhs’ and throaty ‘oohs’ conveying the highs and lows of his Pandoran alterlife. Sweeping peaks and troughs in the notes you belt out paint the picture in his mind of the mountains climbed and valleys traversed on his quest to find his humanity in a Na’vi body. Dulcet tones undulate from the soft pillows of your lips into the attentive ears of every clan member gathered around the fire, demanding the rapt attention of all that can and will listen.

Your voice betrays you, wavering slightly when you make sudden eye contact with Jake. He gawks at you unashamedly, his expression reminding you of the awe and excitement of a child watching kenten unfurl their luminous fans for the first time. Inwardly, you curse the power that this vrrtep has over you; you never get distracted! No doubt Ninat would be teasing you about this mishap til Eywa calls you home. That skxawng always liked to argue that she’s the better vocalist.

Final note lingering in the air and resonating in the hearts of those around you, you graciously accept the compliments offered. Soon after, you make a swift break for your marui, unaware of your newly acquired shadow following after your hurried steps as if still woefully caught in the spell your voice had cast upon him.

You flit about the marui, humming under your breath as you search for the herb and nectar concoction Tsahik gave you after overhearing you complaining to Neytiri about putting your vocal cords under too much pressure. An appreciative hum leaves your parted lips as the mixture soothes your throat, before a male, gravelly and obnoxious “Ah, shit!” cuts through your minute of peace, followed by the clang of a pot falling.

A stunned squeak escapes you before you have the chance to stop it, eyes widening as your ears fold back and your brow muscles raise in shock before furrowing in confusion. A moment passes. 

You slowly crane your neck to look behind you, chancing a glance at whatever, whoever it is that managed to sneak into your marui and elicit such an embarrassing reaction from you. The fallen pot is still rattling on the floor as you lock eyes with the perpetrator and your upper lip raises into a sneer. Of course, you think to yourself, as if the vrrtep has not bothered me enough tonight he has come back for more!

“Oel ngati kameie,” Jake greets awkwardly, eyes shifting between your defensive posture and the offensive pot that he had tripped over in his dazed stupor. He brings his fingertips to his forehead before extending them towards you in a gesture of respect, and for a moment you are pulled from your derisive train of thoughts as your eyes follow the raised veins on his hands and you feel an unfamiliar feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach – much like the kindling of a new flame. Your examination of his anatomy comes to an abrupt stop when your eyes hone in on his outstretched fingers. Four fingers. Alien fingers.

“What is it that you want?” You throw the words at him, eyeing him up and down in an admittedly pathetic attempt to intimidate him. You are well aware of his prowess as a warrior; you’d only spent the latter part of the evening waxing poetic about it. Despite this, you cannot help but feel as if you must prove yourself to be a formidable threat to him, to this man who was once a tawtute imposter in a Na’vi body and has now made himself an imposter in your home.

He inches towards you cautiously, arms outstretched by his sides and palms open, intending to  communicate his lack of malintention as he clears his throat and opens his mouth to answer you. Your eyes remain vigilant, ears pointing up, alert and awaiting his response. A series of unintelligible noises is all you hear, his mouth opening and closing in such a stupid way that you almost find it endearing. Almost.

Further incensed by the lack of answer, you jerk your head towards him, tail lashing behind you, impatient, “What is it then? Speak!” You begin to pace in front of him, agitated and expectant of an explanation. “Or do you only know how to stare?”

As if jolted back to reality, Jake blinks blankly before retorting “Damn, you sound just as good when you talk, pretty girl”. Astounded, your pacing comes to a halt, allowing you to baulk at his insolence – there is a notable pause as you compose yourself once more. His lips pull back into a self-satisfied smirk as he greedily absorbs your reaction, and there is a dangerous glint in his eyes, eyes too small to belong to a native Na’vi, that calls to you. You decline the call decisively.

“You still have not answered my question, Jakesully,” you attempt to regain control of this odd interaction, remaining firm in your affronted demeanour. “Speak!”

He lets out a huff of laughter under his breath, made bashful by the reminder of his inexplicable attraction towards you. “Well…I guess I heard ya singin’ out there and I-” he shakes his head, looks down and brushes a hand over his face, lips puckering to blow a gentle whoosh of air as he exhales. You feel his breath waft over your face and refuse to register the way it stokes the flame within you.

“I knew I gotta tell ya that you sound amazing, heavenly, even, unlike anything I’ve ever hea-” his reverent rambling is cut short by your cackle that pierces his ears that had perked up in delight while he sang your praises. He looks up to observe you doubling over in sarcastic laughter and waits, confused as ever, for you to explain yourself.

“Skxawng,” you rebuke, “do not insult my intelligence by suggesting you understood a single word other than your name. Neytiri has told me of your incompetence,” you lower your voice and let the venom seep into your tone, “Jakesully.”

He meets your narrowed eyes with a challenge in his stare, his right eyebrow, yet another tawtute feature, quirking up. “You’re wrong y’know,” he tilts his head to the right and nods as if still contemplating your rude interjection. In spite of his shock, he does not appear deterred in any way and for a moment you fear that your attempt at resistance is futile. Perhaps you have grossly underestimated his proficiency at your native language and have embarrassed yourself.

He continues, “I understood you calling me a skxawng just now.” A cheeky smile creeps onto his face as he basks in his ability to rile you up. “But I figure that might as well be my name with how many times Neytiri’s called me that”.

Insistent on finding a fault in his words, you give him an incredulous look and respond, “Now you dare to criticise the tsakarem?” A disbelieving scoff leaves your lips. “Impertinence!” Your words, however, do not have their desired effect as he remains unbothered by your jabs, seeing through them completely. 

“C’mon pretty girl,” Jake tries to reason with you, “y’know that’s not what I meant.” Encouraged by the involuntary huff of defeat that leaves your body that has grown weary from the night’s activities and this back and forth that is honestly fraying your nerves, Jake perseveres with the determination of the Marine that he is. “Now stop deflecting ‘nd take the compliment.” You relent, albeit reluctantly. “Call me crazy but the way you sang out there…it felt like I knew exactly what you were sayin’, even with my thick Jarhead skull.”

He takes a breath before more words tumble out of his mouth. “I know you were singin’ about me. I never thought I would mean enough to the Omatikaya people for someone to write a song about me.” He surprises you by laughing self-deprecatingly – in the short time you have interacted with him you have become used to his natural bravado. “I never thought I would be enough for anyone to write a song about me.”

Jake wants to tell you more. He yearns to speak of the cosmic force, the pull he felt towards you the moment he heard your voice for the first time. The pull he feels tugging at his heartstrings now, plucking away at them, composing a tune to accompany the siren song of your voice. For a moment he thinks he might just really believe this Eywa shit now.

But he doesn’t tell you. For once in his life he holds back. Instead, he moves even closer to you, every inch of his eight foot figure towering over you as he encroaches on your personal space. Your eyes widen, pupils dilating as you take him in. All of him. 

Spurred on by your favourable change in expression, Jake reaches forward to place a warm hand on the snug of your neck. His other hand’s forefinger and thumb frame your dazed face as he caresses your cheek with a reverential tenderness you would have never attributed to him. He shifts his grip down to your chin and tilts your face upwards, so that eye meets eye. 

As your steely resolve weakens into something soft, something pliable, you are rendered boneless against your own will, putty in his hands – carbon fiber-reinforced bones be damned. He is held captive by the unexpected, soft trill of your laughter, spirited away by the light breeze that has entered like the melody of a windchime. Eyes of molten gold bore into your soul and he sees you. He Sees you.

- end of flashback -

Seeing Toruk Makto, however, was anything but easy.

You smile to yourself as you recount how you and Jake met, but are quickly sobered by the realisation that no other clan member would even fathom speaking to Jake so disrespectfully – speaking to Toruk Makto so disrespectfully. And so you are forced to confront the reason why you could not stand the man, even if he ensured your clan’s survival by bringing an end to The Great Sorrow.

You fiddle with the purple tassels of your breast covering, made up of the fallen strands of a tawtsngal plant that you had painstakingly braided to be in likeness to the whispering tendrils of the Utraya Mokri. The Tree of Voices.

To the ignorant tawtute that threatened to populate your beloved Eywa’eveng like pests it was simply one of the many flux vortex hubs that rendered their alien inventions useless, stripping them of their ill-perceived superiority and reminding them that they do not belong here. But to you, it was an awe-inspiring wonder that was the source of many a song composed by you and crooned into the ear of a fussy baby, sung to soothe an ill elder or belted out to relay the ballad of a beloved fallen warrior.

With the stories whispered in your ears by the ancestors, you weave the tapestry of the clan in song form. It is for this reason that Jake had taken to affectionately calling you ‘parrot’, explaining to you that they were birds that once lived on Earth and repeated what was said by others.

Your garment was not only of totemic value, symbolising your role in the clan as an esteemed singer, but was also a love letter to the sacred place that birthed your passion for the art of song - and in doing so established your roots in the intricate network of the clan.

If only you had known of what was to come, you lament. That a day would come when the very roots of the tree that planted you firmly within the clan would be so easily uprooted by the wretched Sky People and their demon machines. On that day, you felt as if your place in the clan was uprooted with it; you had lost your communication channel with the ancestors, and therefore your muse. 

You sit up and detach Jake’s arm, limp with sleep, from your waist. As you look upon his face you try to reconcile all the affection he has extended to you with the fact that he once was a Sky Person, working for their destructive cause.

Before you can stop it, the familiar feeling of resentment stirs within your belly as you question why the Great Mother would choose to allow  your life’s joy to be so mercilessly taken from you and yet bestow the revered title of Toruk Makto on such a man as Jake.

How could she turn her back on you? Strip your pride from you? Replace you with a man born not of Na’vi, but of the immoral tawtute? You cannot help but feel that Jake is more Omatikaya than you ever will be now, as you think of what you long to be. 

His mate.

Mate to Toruk Makto, rider of last shadow, yet unworthy to stand with him, even in his shadow. The honour of being under this dark, ominous, yet protective shroud was reserved for a select few - the chosen ones. Proven warriors who have sacrificed their lives, their existence on this terrestrial plane for Toruk Makto, like Tsu’tey, or dutiful daughters who have overcome prejudices born from murder for Toruk Makto, like Neytiri. Not for glorified parrots. Not for you.

You heave a gentle sigh, banishing those thoughts with a soft shake of your head and rest your head back on Jake’s shoulder. Tense shoulders loosen as you shuffle back into the warm comfort of his body. Your finger begins tracing again, up, up, up his arm before a tentative hand opens up to grasp one of his larger ones.

Curious eyes explore the network of veins that branch out along his hand like the roots of a tree, like the roots of the Utraya Mokri. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you reminisce the first time you had been in such proximity to the veins on his hand and the feelings they aroused in you back then.

Perhaps, you muse, you could find solace in him the same way you once did in your sacred trees. You lean in, pursed lips relaxing to place a tender kiss on each of Jake's fingers, all four of them. The same fingers that once instilled a deep rage within you. The same fingers that held you with a love that can only be Eywa-given. The same fingers used to tame the mighty Toruk. A part of you, no matter how distant or small, knows that in these capable hands you can rest easy.

So yes, your struggle to See Toruk Makto may yet prevail, but Jake? Jake you would always See. It is with this conclusion that your hold on his arm slackens, and half-lidded eyes flutter close. You slot yourself into the space within his body that is made for you. Two bodies mould into one. Little spoon into big spoon.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

na’vi dictionary

palulukan - thanator // tanhi - na’vi bioluminescent freckles // pongu pongu - na’vi alcoholic beverage // kenten - fan lizards // marui - tent // oel ngati kameie - I see you // skxawng - idiot // tsakarem - tsahik-in-training // tawtsngal - purple pandoran flower // tawtute - sky person, sky people // eywa’eveng - na’vi word for pandora

© iwantjaketosullyme tumblr 2023

[l0sercat]

Yandere Alphabet w/ Jack the ripper

Affection — how do they show their love and affection?

Little touches and small gentle kisses

Blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Semi messy. He won't outright kill people unless they are a threat. He may torture people that leave them on the brink of death if they don't immediately seek medical attention.

Cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?

He would be nice and treat you like any gentleman would.

Darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes but it's nothing serious. He may give you kisses on the cheek or lingering touches. Nothing psychical or terrible like rape or torture. He respects you and loves you and wants you to love him back.

Exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Almost fully vulnerable. He has nothing to hide from you but a few dark things. He wants you to open up like he has.

Fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would not enjoy it. He wants you to accept him and your fate. You were made for each other.

Game — is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It's not a game and he would hate to see you try to leave him. The first time it happened it worried him but after the second and third he grew annoyed.

Hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When he comes home covered in blood and a disheveled mess. He hugs and smoothers you which results in the blood getting and smearing on you. You were panicked but he didn't let go of you despite your screams and protest. He fell asleep and gagged at the smell and threw up a little but he to wait to clean up until he woke up and released his hold on you.

Ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?

One where you are both happily married and have at least a child or two.(if you can't have children then maybe you can adopt)

Jealousy — do they get jealous? How do they handle it?

He can get jealous sometimes but it's rare. He trusts you and is secure in the relationship. He knows you wouldn't leave him. When and if he gets jealous he just quietly huffs to himself and stands menacingly being you.

Kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?

He acts like a gentleman. He's very caring and loving.

Love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?

Little gifts left at your door and then bloody roses. Before kidnapping you he would send a very detailed letter about his infatuation of you.

Mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. Around others he can be considered standoffish and a little aloof. Although still nice. But around you you see his soft side.

Naughty — how would they punish their darling?

He would probably bound you to your shared bed and gag you. He might talk down to you and abuse you emotionally to make you feel bad.

Oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?

You wouldn't have a lot but you have more than what most darlings would have.

Patience — how patient are they with their darling?

Very patient. He almost never loses his patience or lashes out at you.

Quite — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

I feel like there is a 6-10% he would find another darling if the first one does but it's very unlikely. He loved you very much but if he found another darling he wouldn't love them as much as he did you and probably only have them as a rebound. If darling escapes he would be devastated but try to find you. He is searching all over London and panicking.

Regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?

A little but seeing you next to him(wether you want to or not) gets rid of all the guilt.

Stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Probably childhood. He's never had anyone and the one he did she didn't truly love him and then he killed her(*cough*his mom*cough*) He never truly felt love as now that he has he is not letting go.

Tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates it. He doesn't want you to shed tears and scream at him. He expects it he's not to delusional but, he still hates it and it visibly upsets him.

Unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He doesn't do a lot of non-con stuff and he doesn't put gags and ties on you. He doesn't believe he needs to restrain you and he believes you will warm up to him. He doesn't want to force himself on you because that will only push you away.

Vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

How caring he can be. He is always sweet and understanding with you. He may sometimes if you beg enough take you out. When it comes to you he a bit of a push over.

Wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?

If you push his buttons enough then yes. But he wont do it for fun he'll do it because he has to discipline you.

Xoanon — how much would they revere or worship their darling?

He worships you a bit. Not overwhelming but thinks your a gift from the gods because your so beautiful and amazing.

Yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Probably 5-6 months. He just needs to make sure all the preparations for you are perfect and your going to be safe.

Zenith — would they ever break their darling?

I don't think he would. You would probably fall to Stockholm syndrome or fall normally. He's just such a gentleman and would treat you better the non anyone.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

16. Play.

Noticing the power shift created by Joey’s new form and role in his story, the Ink demon, the Prophet, and the now much more lucid searchers are interested in playing a few games with their old pals Henry and Joey. (Or not very interested, in the prophet and searchers’ cases) (Set in the AU where by yeeting Joey into the ink machine before going through the portal-door in the kitchen, Henry is accompanied by a chatty, useless, and overall insufferable little imp.)

The novelty of Joey accompanying him as a friendly, (Henry used that term loosely considering what he knew now.) tiny, cartoon demon wore off the second the story actually kicked into play. For starters, the former animator knew that whether either of them liked it or not, Joey was going to be clinging to him whenever he felt like it and following him like a lost puppy.

At the moment, the imp was running ahead of the animator, tapping his feet impatiently as he ‘waited’ for the old man to catch up before scurrying off again and occasionally tripping, but Henry knew that by the time the Ink Demon came into play, the little devil would use him as a meat shield.

 Speaking of the two devils, Henry approached the freshly boarded up ink machine room which Joey was already peering into with an uneasy expression on his pale face. The animator also peered into the room, but instead of being greeted by the Ink Demon popping out of the hole and starting the chase, he watched the Ink demon pace about the small room with an expression he’d never seen on it before: a grimace.

In addition to the demon’s seemingly much more expressive face, he seemed to have a different approach to his role as a villain now that he had no script from Joey to follow; a villain who was much more dangerous than a smart animal.

“SAMMY! JACK! JOHNNY!”

The Ink Demon shouted and called up three figures of ink.

“Alright, now listen up you three good-for-nothing, sewer-water-brained Lackeys, the creators will be here ANY second now, and if I find out YOU STUPID INK BLOTS let them get away, I’m gonna wring your necks out like wet towels! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Yes, your vileness.” The swollen searcher with a bowler hat replied in a tired sounding tone.

“Clear as day, your assholiness.” The Prophet added, sounding like more of a smartass than he had ever been when he was alive.

“Y-yes… Lord Ink Demon… We’ll take good care of them all right! W-well not good, but- EEEP!” a third searcher that appeared to have teeth made out of piano keys meekly stuttered and hid from the Ink Demon’s untrusting glare from behind the safety of the Prophet’s legs.

“Good! Now listen up: they’ve started up our machine already so we don’t have much time to plan: So what do we do to stop them?”

“Uh... ...Same thing as always?”

“W-well… I’m sure that you’ll have the best plan out of all of us, your rottenness!”

“You can stick your hand out of the holes in the boards and watch them run and fall to their doom like a pair of stray sheep who don’t see the cliff.”

“NO! When Joey’s not in control, I’m calling the shots around here! And I say: We’re not going to run his stupid story through the machine any more! We’re doing something completely different, something that will really make ‘em suffer...”

“Henry!” Joey tugged on the man’s pant leg and whispered loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to grab the ink monsters’ attention. “He can think and talk! He’s not supposed to do that! Hell, aside from Sammy, none of them are supposed to be any smarter than feral animals! Not to mention, they all look different… I think that stuff on Sammy is supposed to be hair, but it’s never been THAT long before...”

The Ink Demon slapped his forehead and grumbled under his breath.

“Speak of the %*#@ing devils…” He then stared expectantly at the confused trio of searchers. “WELL?! THEY’RE HERE; RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR! ARE YOU GONNA MAUL ‘EM OR ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT AROUND WAITING FOR THE COCKROACHES IN YOUR HEADS TO CHEW UP THE GARBAGE YOU CALL BRAINS FIRST?!”

“Why not take the pleasure in offing them yourself, your dicklessness?”

“Uh, Yeah, and when you fail at that, we’ll set up traps for ‘em downstairs. It’s not like they’re gonna escape the studio.”

The searcher with piano key teeth sheepishly nodded along.

“What?! But I had this cool dramatic entrance planned out and everything- ARGH! FINE!” The Ink Demon grumbled as he started breaking the boards. “If you want a mauling done right...”

Henry held Joey like a football as he ran through the rapidly flooding studio as the Ink Demon cackled manically throughout the chase.

“READY OR NOT HEEREEE I COOOOMEEEE~”

Henry found himself having to jump and duck to avoid a lot more falling debris and had felt the demon’s claws at his back at times, the situation was not helped by Joey screaming and crying the entire time.

He felt more dread than relief as he saw the exit coming in, no matter how close it got, he never got to it, like every time before, the floorboards broke underneath his feet. He always fell, and now, someone would try to catch him.

“HA! NOT WHEN I’M IN CHARGE, CREATOR!”

And would succeed.

It happened so fast that Joey couldn’t tell if he did it intentionally or not, but he had slipped out of Henry’s grip and had fallen down to the depths of the studio with a loud ‘splash’ announcing his arrival.

Announcing that he was alone, defenseless, and weak. In a studio that Joey now knew no longer was his to control, and was filled with many, many enemies who would fully take advantage of that.

“Y-you just need to stay c-calm, Joey...” He pulled himself up on a floating piece of stray wood and started paddling towards the valve. “There’s an ax nearby, all you need to do is get to it and you’ll be fine. you’ve seen Henry do this hundreds of times, you’ll be alright, you just need to believe in yourself.”

In spite of his reassuring speech, the scared little imp felt a large pit of dread in his gut. The former Music director, former lyricist, and the former organist would probably hesitate if it was Henry instead, but those three caught him... Joey shuddered just thinking about it. 

As the ink drained he took his miraculously unstained bath robe off of the floor and put it back on. He was also missing his pants now, but it wasn’t like he could go back up to get them, and even if he could, he wasn’t going to fight the Ink Demon for a pair of fucking pants that were too big for him anyway.

“Get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry...”

He repeated to himself under his breath as he repeated his task of descending and turning valves as an attempt to keep himself from jumping at every twist and turn. The imp also kept his eyes peeled for anything that looked suspicious or out of place, fearing the looming threat of the searchers’ traps.

The ax and the room was exactly how Joey had left it, not a single thing changed, which did make him feel relieved.

When he moved forward, he didn’t find any evidence that Sammy was worshiping Bendy at all when in the shrine room, there were plenty of ritualistic circles, plenty of cryptic messages, but they all had the little devil as a thing that was meant to be sacrificed, not as something worth the former musician’s worship.

“Of all the runs for Sammy to not worship Bendy...” He groaned. “It HAD to be the one where I became an imp...”

He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or even more afraid when he didn’t see Sammy moving the cutout around.

------

When Joey got to the music department itself, he heard the sounds of laughter, pool balls clacking, cheers and glasses clinking in the distance. Following the sounds, he found the three searchers lounging around the pool table in the middle of a conversation and a game.

The upbeat atmosphere fizzled out when the three noticed him. The Swollen searcher muttered something about the game just getting good, the Piano key-toothed searcher groaned about Joey spoiling all the fun as usual, and the masked mad maestro smiled at him.

Not in a sarcastic or forced way like how his human self smiled at people, it seemed genuine enough. But it also wasn’t a warm or kind smile, it seemed more ...hungry.

“Hello little Lamb.” The prophet stood up and got into the imp’s face,  “Are you interested in playing a game with us?”

‘Oh fuck, he’s still crazy.’ Joey thought to himself. “N-no thanks!” He smiled and waved hoping that he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “I’ve got a friend of mine to get back to and I really don’t have a lot of time to play.”

The imp dashed out of the break room and slammed the door shut behind him, completely unaware that the merriment had returned to the room.

“Thank god he didn’t go for it.” Johnny sighed. “If The Ink Demon found out about this room because of that little runt...”

“I told you it would work.” The prophet took the mask back off and set it aside on a crate. “...But he’ll probably come back to pester us into trying to help him find Henry, maybe even take up the game offer.”

“Yeah...” Jack poured himself another shot. “Kinda surprised that you didn’t jump at the chance to make his life hell though.”

“Less is more.” The prophet hit the eight ball and watched the rest of them knock against each other. “If you get one big punch left to linger, it hurts like a bitch, if you get hundreds of them, you grow numb to the pain. But I don’t think that Inky understands that.”

“Well, at least he can have fun playing his game of cat and mouse with Joey...”

“Yeah.” Johnny raised his glass. “Cheers to those two being each others’ problems instead of ours!”

“Cheers!”

[burnedbyshoto]

Butterfly

Kinktober Day 8 ~ kink: tentacles

pairing: dom!amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2,848

a/n: wow.........I actually really hate tentacle porn, it always disgusted me, but I would let one man fuck with me tentacles. yes you guessed correctly, shouto. just kidding its definitely tamaki, enjoy sluts!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sometimes wondered how Amajiki Tamaki was such an unconfident man. His need for perfection was something that worried you, after all, in your eyes he was perfect. Your relationship with Tamaki had begun with major bumps in the road.

He had assumed in the beginning that you hated him. Your sweet words only a taunt in his mind, your affectionate smiles only a hidden snarl. It truly broke your heart when he finally admitted that to you. Tamaki was such a talented Pro-Hero that it often left you bewildered at his nervousness. You knew he would never get defeated in battle. But his often flashes of anxiety that filled his veins while he was in fights scared you.

You would watch via television while Tamaki went from confidence to crippling anxiety. Your hands always clutching your chest as you stare at your, at the time, best friend gets stomped on screen. However, without fail, Tamaki always pulled through. Of course, once you were finally done with work, you raced to his house. Waiting for the indigo haired boy to return home, bruised but victorious.

You could never resist throwing yourself into his arms, his voice squeaking your name. Heavy with embarrassment. You would always follow him in and help him with whatever he needed. You used to leave whenever Mirio and Nejire showed up. Given the three of them were best friends you always felt like you were intruding. It took a while but when Tamaki finally insisted along with the other two, you stayed.

You never expected to become friends with this very talented Pro-Heroes. Even now it made you smile whenever the four of you hung out. But things changed drastically between you and Tamaki. It all beginning after a fateful encounter with a merciless villain.

You remember watching from your office. Too many Pro-Heroes and sidekicks were getting tossed around like rag dolls. Your eyes widening as the onlooking camera crew focused in on Suneater running to the scene. They praised your best friend! Tamaki seemed unaffected by the villain's immense threat as he began to apprehend him.

It was a long fight.

It lasted an entire ten minutes, dramatic highs and lows. All to the point where you believed Tamaki had been killed. The panicked screams escaping your mouth as your coworkers held you. But with tears still streaming down your eyes, Tamaki rose. The costume is torn and in shreds, he ate something. Your shouts intermingled with the entire floors as you cheered him on. And within seconds, the villain was finally defeated. Tamaki standing over him, chest heaving as more Pro-Heroes arrived on the scene.

Tamaki shortly fainted afterward and was then rushed to the hospital.

He was released that same night, thankfully. You were in the waiting room for him to be discharged. Mirio and Nejire asked again if you were sure you were able to take him home. Your eyes were swollen and puffy due to the high amounts of sobbing you did. Your lips are chapped and brittle as you waved them away. “You guys have early rounds tomorrow,” Your voice weak and yet steely strong. “I can get him home. I’m fine now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling scared, y/n-chan,” Nejire says, her voice serious as she held your cheeks in her hands.

It often made you speechless when Tamaki’s friends turned serious. They were all such dynamic people you forgot they could take things very seriously.

“I got this handled.” You affirm, your mouth pulling into a soft smile. They hugged you before leaving. The quiet hours of the late-night consuming you as you waited for Tamaki to be officially released.

You saw the battered hero exiting his room and into the hallway. Bandages surrounding his arms and a few gauges on his cheeks. He acknowledged you with a shy smile, his head slamming away from you as he talked to a nurse.

You stood up, collecting your things as you walked over to the Pro-Hero who talked with the nurse. She looks at you as you approach the counter, a tired smile on her face as she greets you.

“Hi, I’m assuming you’re here to take Amajiki-san back home?” She questions and your head nods in confirmation. “Okay, well please keep an eye on him. We were able to heal him mostly with our resident healing quirk. But he will be extremely groggy in the next few hours when it hits him.”

“O-Oh, of course. I’ll do my best to look after him.” You say with a bow, and a muffled sound comes from Tamaki as you grab his arm gently.

“Ready to go?” You ask, your eyes locked on his blushing cheeks.

He nods, and with that, you take him home.

It’s silent the entire car ride to his home.

Your eyes shifting over to his stiff form as you drive.

He had nothing to say to you, and you had nothing to say to him.

You had been scared out of your mind for him, but you couldn’t help the anger from filling your veins. The only question was why were you so angry?

Angry at him? No, that wouldn’t make sense. You worked hand in hand with Pro-Heroes, you knew what they did was because they wanted to be everyday heroes. So why were you mad at your best friend for scaring you like that?

Your hands tighten over the steering wheel as you pull into his driveway. Stepping out, you helped a stumbling Tamaki to his feet. Your eyes staring ahead as he leaned against your shoulder for support.

You often forget your friend was as strong and as big as he was. His weight crushing your shoulder. You attempted to maneuver him towards his front door.

“Y… Y/n…” Tamaki mumbles as you get to the front door.

“Yes?” You respond getting him to lean between the corner of the walls. All so that you can fish out his spare key from under his rock garden.

“Butterflies are my… my favorite things.” Tamaki tells you this, and you laugh as you shake your head. Your fingers finding the cool brass key and you stand up to see Tamaki looking at you with groggy eyes.

“I know that, Tamaki.” You remind him, “You told me that during our twenty questions drinking game.”

His face flushes red, and you sigh as he slams his head against the wall, his body shaking. “No… it’s not just that.” He admits and you quirk your eyebrow as you unlock the front door.

“Then what is it, Tamaki?”

“C-Can I call you butterfly?” He asks you, confidence seeping into his voice and you freeze as his front door opens.

“W-What?” You stutter, as the man stumbles in his stance, he looks so tired and yet so painfully in love with you.

“I… I like you a lot, y/n…” Tamaki whispers, and he takes a few steps towards you. His tired eyes burning as he presses his forehead against yours. Your chest is hammering as you feel his flushed skin against your own, his eyes closed as if this was a dream. His hands resting on your waist as you choke softly. “Today with that battle… I thought I was going to die, and I was going to die a coward. I couldn’t die knowing that I… that I never got to confess my feelings for you. I’ve always been a coward, my entire life… I know that! But as I lay there… as I lay there--” His eyes were full of tears and your hands grasp his face.

Your fingers brushing away his falling tears as you shake your head, “You aren’t a coward, Tamaki.” You say, the anger within you making sense now. You were in love with your best friend. “You weren’t going to die there, I wouldn’t have let that happened.”

A broken sob escapes his mouth as he shakes his head, furious. “I am a coward, y/n. I’m in l-love with you, and I never confessed until I thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“Tamaki…”

“Even if y-you don’t like m-me back, can I p-please call you butterfly… you just make me so happy…”

His dark eyes search yours, and without a single word more, your lips press against his. Your soul overcoming his own as he cries against your mouth. You don’t care, and tears are coming down your own cheeks as you pull him in close. Your lips uttered to him everything you had never told him. Promising him a future he would never think of until now.

You were in love with your best friend, and you were going to live the rest of your life engraving that into his heart.

When the two of you showed up to the next hangout with your friends. Everyone was so overjoyed to see Tamaki turning beet red as you held his hand cheering in excitement.

Your love was pure, forgiving, wholesome.

Late-night dancing, lingering kisses in the morning, and an insane amount of food dates.

Tamaki surprised you in many areas. His initial anxiety and unconfident nature erasing in many areas. After five minutes of doing something, he tended to feel confident. Of course, the greatest surprise came in bed.

Humans had a natural ability to make things… sexual, to say the least. It took until your fifth month anniversary for you to ask Tamaki to bring his quirk into play. Your mouth brushing against his trembling torso as your hand grasped his cock. “I want to use your tentacles one day,” You sighed, and like that, Tamaki had come into your hands.

Of course, it took another month for Tamaki to not crumble when attempting your request, but once he did. It unlocked something new and exciting within Tamaki. Something that made you wish you had asked him to bring his quirk to bed earlier.

Tamaki bit down on the golden broken takoyaki, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to lick your lips.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, butterfly?” Tamaki asks as he finishes his food. Your thighs rub together in anticipation as you laugh.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” You counter, a cunning grin on your face as his gentle face smiles.

You had no idea what was going on in his brain, but the confident smirks sent waves of pleasure down your spine. Your breaths turning into pants as you wanted him to climb on top of you. Last time around he had simply fingered you, but it seemed he had a new idea in mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Tamaki pulled up a chair, and sat down on by the foot of the bed.

“Tama-chan?” You ask confused, why was he sitting down.

A shriek leaves your lips as something grasps your wrists and ankles.

Your body is pulled against the mattress, and you gasp as you try looking. Sure enough, four pink tentacles are holding your limbs tightly to the bed. The suckers on the limbs making you groan in pleasure at the intense pressure it added to your arms. Pants leave your mouth at the sight of Tamaki smiling at you, pure of innocence.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re spread out like this, butterfly.” Tamaki sighs as he leans against a single hand, a grin curling on his features. Your body trembled as another tentacle traces up your leg. The cool limb touching your inner thigh, and you struggle against his tentacles. Your body wanting nothing more than to cover up. “Now, now, don’t cover-up. I love seeing your clenching pussy like this, butterfly. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

“Tamaki…” You moan his name as the tentacle moves to your left breast. It encircles it tightly but continues moving. It is quick to reciprocate its actions to your right breast. You arch off the bed as the tentacles pulsate, squeezing your chest delicious as you cry out his name. Good god was this on another level. You shudder against his groping tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against your nipple and you whine greatly.

A chuckle comes from Tamaki, but you lack the will to stare at him in the position. Your arousal feels like its growing as you feel the heat being emitted from your lower lips. Your hips shifting to ease the uncomfortable buildup within you. You weren’t getting the attention you needed down there. Unfortunate for you, Tamaki seemed focused on your breasts right now.

“What’s wrong, butterfly?” Tamaki asks, a smirk all too evident in his tone.

You curse as your hips thrash against the mattress. Your jaw-dropping as his tentacles continue lavishing your body. The pleasure in you only seeming to spark higher as he watches from afar. Your head spinning with lust as you can’t help but feel dirty as his tentacles do his bidding. The tentacles around your wrist tighten and you moan out.

“Do you need more?” Tamaki wonders, and you finally manage to look back down at Tamaki who bites down on his lip. “Tell me, butterfly, do you want more?”

You nod your head, unable to trust your voice as he grins. He raises a single finger, and you watch with the utmost glee as it manifests into a tentacle.

It immediately sinks into your desperate cunt, and you mewl loudly. The moving appendage pressing against the walls of your pussy as it thrust into you. Your hips slam up against Tamaki’s tentacle, your jaw falling down as you pant. The feeling mind-numbing as it slams in and out of you. Over and over, twitching and twirling within your dripping cunt. You plead for more, wanting nothing more than Tamaki’s cock to enter your pussy as well.

“Tama, please! Oh my god!” You scream as the tip of his tentacle easily presses into your g-spot. “SHIT!”

He slams the tentacle into your g-spot without mercy. A feral grin on your face as you continue thrashing against your bonds. His tentacle growing in girth inside your spasming walls. All while he continues to build the fiery pressure from within.

“I think you’re being too loud.” Tamaki groans. The tentacle that was groping your breasts shooting down. The smooth skin pressing against your aching cunt.

Your head throws back and your mouth drops as you’re about to scream his name. You’re cut off as another tentacle fills your mouth. Your scream is muffled, and you choke around the tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against the back of your throat. The tentacle rams further down your throat, and your eyes roll back. The double penetration overwhelming you. There is nothing more that you can do except take it. Letting him have way with you as he fucks both your mouth and clenching pussy.

In and out, your body trembling as he fucks you in both places fast, hard, unforgiving. Your dripping cunt making the most lecherous noises as he pounded into you. The occasional gags emitting from your throat as his thrusts don’t give you enough time to adjust to his speed.

“Kami, you look so fucking delicious like this.” Tamaki pants from the distance, and you moan around his tentacle. Your mind wanting him even more so as the building pressure of your pussy increases. “Are you ready to come yet, butterfly?” You sob a sound that’s choked around his pounding tentacles. Your head nodding as your cheeks feel as if they are on fire. “Then come for me.”

It all comes crashing down. The tentacle sliding up and down your throat erases your sobs. The tentacle pressing into your pulsating clit goes faster. The tentacle slamming into your pussy widens within your clenching walls. You come hard, your vision turns white as you choke around the tentacle.

Your body weakly thrashes around on the mattress as he tentacles finally leave you. Your body sweaty, aching, and on a whole new high as Tamaki finally crawls onto the bed. A teasing smile on his face as he presses butterfly kisses to your collarbone. You heave for air as his touches are achingly sweet.

He gathers your limp body into his arms, and you sigh as he smooths your bruised wrists. “You were so beautiful,” He whispers. You groan slightly as he presses a kiss to your aching throat. “But don’t think this is over.” Your eyes slide over to Tamaki who grinds his raging boner into the palm of your hand. “You’re just too sweet to resist.”

“Tamaki.” You moan as you begin palming him through his restricting pants. You grin as you feel his lips beginning to suckle against your neck. You smirk as his hips rock against your moving fingers. You whine as he pins you back onto the bed, the tips of his hair brushing against your flushed and sweaty skin. Butterflies once more erupting into your stomach.

“I’m glad you're ready for a round two,” Tamaki groans as your fingers grip his hard-on. You chuckle as you silence him with a kiss.

“Me, too.”

[huntresswarlock]

Belated on the ask meme but do them all or all the ones you haven’t done give me content BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

i haven't done any of them so... a-all of them it is ;;v;; puttin under a readmore because long

1: Summarize your WIP in 10 words or less.

The price, responsibilities, and benefits of second chances.

2: Post a line from your WIP with no context.

Make it stop, he strung the words together in his head as they burned away on his dried-out tongue, please, I will do anything, I don’t want to die, not here, not like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen, please, please, please...

3: Does your WIP have a title? If so, explain its significance. If not, what are you calling it for now?

and if you fall, the sun will catch you

It was a suggestion by @z-nogyrop when I was kicking around the initial idea for the main character. Given that said main character's name is Icarus, and another major character is the god of fire... I think the significance is pretty obvious lmao.

4: Describe the setting of your WIP.

Small faux-friendly village with a dark cult underbelly.

5: Search for the word “knife” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

"Somehow the sight of those pathetic little things twisted a sharp knife in his gut harder than if his wings had been completely bare."

Icarus tried to use fire to burn away his past, and it got out of hand and ended up nearly killing him. His life was saved, but his wings were not salvageable, and are now only bare flesh, like a plucked chicken.

6: Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

"His nights offered nothing but dreams of a vast field covered in flames beneath an orange sky."

In exchange for saving his life, the god of fire charges Icarus with preventing other people from using fire irresponsibly like he had, as well as helping those who have been hurt by fire. To give more specific orders, the god manifests in Icarus' dreams as described above.

7: What are you most proud of?

I'm really proud of my beginning, which opens with Icarus nearly burning to death and explores the immediate aftermath before closing on a slightly more hopeful note. I think it sets a tense tone and communicates a lot about Icarus, as the first thing readers see of him is his close brush with death.

8: What is your biggest challenge?

Pacing! Also weaving character thoughts into the narrative. But mostly pacing. I am on a wickedly self-indulgent chapter right now, and it's hard not to just linger here.

9: How would you describe your writing style?

According to you, it's Ray Bradbury-esque. ;;w;; I use a lot of imagery and metaphor, and short-to-medium length sentences.

10: How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style? (1st person, 3rd person, multiple POVs, single POV, alternating chapters, etc.)

3rd person limited

11: Which character do you have the most in common with?

That's a hard one, because there just aren't that many characters in this story. I suppose Apollo, the tiefling love interest to Icarus?

12: Which character do you have the least in common with?

Icarus himself, I think.

13: Your characters are stranded on a deserted island. What happens?

Icarus would be very miserable and go back and forth on whether he can overcome his fear of fire to light a rescue beacon. He'd also probably hate the idea of having to forage for his own food and water.

14: Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

Icarus was born on a winter solstice, but I haven't nailed down anything further than that.

15: Do you know your characters’ MBTI personalities?

Nope!

16: What would your characters be for Halloween?

Icarus - something subtle, since he's never participated before and doesn't want to get it wrong; some kind of animal, probably, since he can just put on/take off ears and a tail

Apollo - a chef!

17: Does your WIP have any themes or motifs?

Birds/flight and fire.

18: What’s easier, dialogue or description?

They're both hard DX writing is really hard... if I had to pick, I'd say dialogue is easier.

19: Post a picture or gif that describes your WIP.

I... I have this moodboard I made for Icarus... does that count...

20: Post a brief excerpt.

To him, it resembled nothing less than an animate pile of dry kindling. Hardly a threat, even if it had startled him when it began moving. The voice had told him only to collect information about it, that he wasn’t ready to face it... but the voice had also said it couldn’t tell exactly what it was, either. It was entirely possible that Icarus could kill or destroy it, especially since it didn’t seem to have noticed him. If he did so, then surely he could prove that he wasn’t taking his second chance for granted, and the voice would be happier with him.

He had to try. The voice had mentioned that he was equipped with further magic, now, and he could feel it thrumming in time with the heat in his chest. How much, he couldn’t precisely tell, but it was more than likely enough to handle a pile of moving sticks. Icarus held his breath, one hand curled around his locket, the other clenched into a fist. If he shifted his focus just right, dim light began to seep from his closed fingers, but he held back from fully channeling his magic until the entity was just about to round the edge of the doorway.

When he whirled out from behind the barn wall and flung his hand away from him in a way that felt right, a bolt of sunlight arced from his outstretched palm and straight into the creature’s spindly shoulder. Not exactly where he’d wanted to hit it, but the explosion of dry wood as the limb fell away and it stumbled put an updraft beneath his spirit. Icarus shouted and pulled on his magic again, drawing more sunlight to his palm. One more good hit like that, properly aimed, and–

The dismembered arm thrashed against the ground and swung into his calves and that soaring energy vanished, replaced with a free falling sensation, almost literally as he staggered and tried to regain his bearings before it swung again. A desperate kick only gave it an opening to twist, ropelike, over his ankle, digging searing hot splinters into his skin as it clawed into the ground to keep him from moving.

The searing wood hurt, but he couldn’t afford to keep his attention on it, not while the rest of the entity hissed and twined its remaining arm into a whip that lashed a burning wound straight through his shirt. He fought down the rising panic in his throat and hurled another spear of sunlight at it as it advanced on him. It barely noticed or paused as it continued to drive him back, further into the barn, forcing him to drag the detached limb with him. He pulled on his magic again, willed a third well of light to his palm.

But no sunlight rose to his fingertips. Whatever had been fueling his magic, it was now entirely spent, and its absence felt unnaturally cold in his chest. He had never been much of a fighter, had never been one to do more than avoid attention by sticking to the sidelines. His one great act of recklessness, trying to burn away the parts of himself he hated, had gone horribly for him. And now he had done it again, and there was no stern but careful voice to save him. How could he have been so stupid, to not listen to it?

He had to run, had to make a break for the barn door and the field beyond. Maybe he could run back to town, get help, get the guards, something, anything to avoid dying here. Another kick at the wood wrapped around his leg managed to crack it enough that it lost its grip on him for long enough that he could get away, skirting around the creature and towards his escape. It stopped moving and tracked him with sunken, eyeless sockets, turning its head on a swivel almost all the way around with a sickening crackling.

Dense, dry underbrush sprouted beneath his feet, catching him by surprise and sending him tumbling to the ground. It grasped at him and slowed him down as he tried to keep crawling forwards. He kept pulling himself hand over hand, inching ever closer to the door – until burning hot tendrils of wood wrapped around his neck and ripped him from the entangling plants, holding him high above the ground. It did not move for a long moment, letting Icarus struggle to draw breath and watch, helpless, as its detached arm reconnected to its ruined shoulder, the fractured wood smoothing over until it looked as if it had never been broken. A jagged seam split its head with something that was almost a smile as it brought him closer, reaching with its free hand towards his chest.

Towards his heart? No–

His locket.

Icarus clawed and kicked at the wood around his neck hard enough to give himself splinters, to no avail. It hissed at him, like dry grass rubbing against itself, begging for a spark. A spark like the one contained in the golden pendant, because surely that would be more than enough to set it ablaze, if it wanted to burn. But he couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let himself and this barn and field and town go up in flames–

The only warning he had before the entity dropped him was a brief flaring of the heat in his chest. No, no it hadn’t dropped him – its grasp had passed right through his neck as his body... dissolved, burst not into flames but smoke, his limbs going from solid to vague impressions. The creature’s hissing cut off with a choking noise, and though he could no longer see anything, he could sense the dull heat of it scrambling away from him.

He gasped – or tried to, at least, even as his thoughts and body swirled in chaotic air currents left in the creature’s wake. It was leaving, getting further away with every moment he spent huddled on the barn floor, and he knew he ought to follow it to figure out where it went to recover, but he could not will himself to move. Even the slightest twitch seemed liable to separate his limbs from his body, and he wasn’t sure he could ever get them back if he lost them while he was like this.

Calm, calm, he had to stay calm, there had to be a way to reverse this, if he just thought hard enough and didn’t let himself panic. Icarus forced himself to pretend he still had lungs and go through the motions of breathing, the insubstantial matter of his chest rising and falling. He didn’t have eyes to squeeze shut but he tried anyway, pressing his face to the ground and blocking out the flickering warmth of distant animal bodies. With every fake breath, the smoke that his body had burst into coalesced more, until he had lungs and eyes again, until he could curl his fingers into the dirt and feel it wedge beneath his nails. Until he was, for better or for worse, back in his usual, solid form.

[daredevile]

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ​] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E  W E E K  E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T  M O N T H S  L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

[detective-with-one-arm]

My Most Trusted - Closed Starter w/ @generic-connor‘s Human!Connor and Naga!Rachel

An average day of peace in her village. That was what typically awaited her, each and every day. This was a blessing she had crafted. One she carefully maintained for the sake of her people. After all, it was they who were her most important treasure. It was she who taught them to hunt. She who taught them to fight. She who taught them to till the soil and who taught them to bond with nature around them.

This was her legacy. This was the cultivation by the will of the Jungle Mother.

Today was a rather special day. A day like this always was. Such a ceremony was a special thing and Rachel had not forgotten a single one. She made absolutely certain.

A couple and their son had appeared before her altar, presenting to her their most precious bundle, delivered just last night by the finest physicians in the village. The boy was just as excited as his parents and the naga woman couldn’t help but glow with pride. Births were always so taxing on the carriers and she made absolutely certain they received the utmost care after their arduous work.

The Welcoming Ceremony was a very special thing. A special moment between the village’s deity and the newborn. The moment that a new child forms that bond between she and it. When a child comes to understand that they will always be kept safe.

Because there is nothing beyond the boundaries of her territory more fearsome than she. And that that fearsome presence adored and loved that child with all of herself.

“You should be very proud, Cecilia and Victor.” The naga woman hissed softly as the couple handed her their child, the small squishy bundle wrapped in cloth sniffling quietly. Once it opened its eyes and gazed into her own amber ones, it reached out to her to grab hold of her face, spluttering and giggling at her. 

Even newborn children were ever so perceptive. This child knew that she would never bring harm upon it. 

That she was protected and loved in the naga’s presence.

“Your daughter will grow to be a strong presence.” Rachel continued to assess, doting on the small bundle and allowing her to touch at her scaly skin, her hand immediately going to the half of her face that was as white as the purest cloud. “A mighty warrior, she will become. Perhaps even a great leader, someday. Yes, your daughter shows much promise in her future.”

In her eyes, there was nothing like seeing the way the humans glowed when she praised their children. They should be as proud of their children as she was. After all, it was human children she had first allowed into her heart. Allowed into her life. Children who escaped into a jungle far more dangerous than they could ever imagine fleeing from something heinous they feared more than herself.

Taking a bowl of ground up flower petals ground up with honey, the naga dipped her claw in the mixture and held the child close, drawing her talon ever so delicately on the newborn’s forehead. She had learned a very long time ago how to be careful with her claws so she would not accidentally bring harm to such a delicate and fragile creature. Upon her forehead, Rachel drew the mark of bravery, a signifier that even in the face of danger, she will not hesitate to fight and stand up for what she values and loves above all else.

Looking up at the couple, the naga’s tongue flicks out with intrigue. “What have you named her?”

“Victoria.” The husband replies, smiling up at their guardian deity.

Chuckling affectionately at him, the naga woman gently hands him back his daughter, her clawed hand lingering for a moment as she drew it back from the fabric that cradled her. “I can see why. She certainly takes after you. I can already tell. You should both be proud.”

Looking down at the boy, the naga woman leans down to his level. The boy was filled with boundless energy. Yes, she remembered Ricardo’s Welcoming Ceremony as well. Upon him, she gave him the mark of vivacity, living life with a spark for it and for the sake of it and bringing an energy and passion to everything. “Jungle Mother! I’ve been practicing my hunter’s techniques.”

Flicking her tongue out once again, her amber eyes glittered curiously. “Oh? Well, then show me the progress you’ve made, dear boy.” She encouraged, her tail curling around him without touching him. After all, if he was going to make a demonstration, she wanted to be able to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. “Go on. Show me how much you’ve grown as a hunter.”

Excitedly, the boy showed her the flips he’d clearly been practicing. He was much too young to be handling the weapons they crafted in her village, but he could still learn to move as swiftly as a hunter should. Clearly, he was a quick learner. He had indeed grown quite nimble and agile. Valuable qualities to have in a hunter.

Nodding her head in approval, the naga drew back. “Well done. You will make a fine hunter once you come of age and are able to carry your first weapon.” Turning her attention to little Victoria once again, Rachel’s gaze softens as she neared the small human again. “Welcome to the world, little Victoria. I will ensure that it will be a world worthy of your life in it.”

With that, the Welcoming Ceremony was complete. The couple gave the naga their thanks and presented her with their family crest as a token of their gratitude. A symbol of the life they were able to build thanks to her protection. Taking it delicately, the snake beast bid them farewell and slithered into her cenote contented. As she slid down the stone stairway, the branches above her glistened in the morning jungle sun. Every trinket and decoration was a gift given to her by her people for generations. Symbols of the gratitude she had earned and their utmost unconditional devotion to her just as she had given to them.

Finding an adequate place to put her new gift, Rachel took a deep breath, appreciating the world around her and the life she was able to live. Of course, it was not without its strife. But that was why she was here. To protect them. To defend them from the outside forces that would threaten this place. Especially such forces that humans could not defeat.

Forces that foolishly deemed her soft and weak because of how she chooses to rule her village who would either slink away with their skin ripped from their flesh or their bones discarded into the sea.

At that thought, as she flicked her tongue out, a foreign scent made itself known to her. A vaguely familiar scent, but still foreign nonetheless. There was a trespasser here. Somewhere near. But they didn’t smell like the weapons that were used by the outside. Perhaps not a threat, but still worth snuffing out. But at least when it came to humans, the naga’s benefit of the doubt had always served her well.

Slithering cautiously out of her cenote, she was far more alert. Far less...soft. Her tongue flicked out repeatedly, tasting the air for her mysterious stranger as she investigated the immediate surroundings. “Well...where are you, stranger?” She called out, her voice smooth and silky as she spoke in her signature naga way. As though tasting each vowel and consonant and savouring it before releasing it into the air. “Come, now...Don’t be shy. Step into the light.”

[headfullofstories]

Truly Monstrous Luck - part 1

   I didn’t think my day could get any worse. I lost my job after I got evicted when my landlord thought my testosterone was fucking heroine, my wallet got stolen - thanks, New York - and that meant my bus card and my money, So I have to walk from Manhattan to my brother's house in The Bronx, in the rain, without an umbrella. I thought this was the worst my day could get. Boy, was I wrong.

I was on 1st Avenue heading towards the Willis Avenue bridge, when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't think anything of it for the first few minutes - it's New York, a lot of people live here. But these footsteps sounded like someone was wearing tap shoes, crisp and loud and menacing. It made me nervous, sure, but I didn’t think they were dangerous. The only thing of any value I had on me was my phone, this shitty old Motorola Droid X I bought used when I was 13. Even if I did get mugged, I don't think anyone wants a 9 year old smartphone, so the worst that would happen is I would get a little roughed up. Big deal, I've dealt with worse.

But as I crossed 86th Street, the footsteps behind me sped up, and as I crossed in front of an alley I felt a pull from behind me. Then I started to really panic. A thousand horrific thoughts flashed through my head then as I was pulled into the dark alley, but none of them come close to what actually happened.

The person who had been following me was a guy who looked a little older than me, maybe 24. He wore a 3 piece suit with a golden tie and a pair of dress boots, and he held a solid black umbrella. He held me by the throat, pinned against the wall and out of sight of passers-by. I was shocked for a moment, unsure what happened - this guy was really strong. Inhumanly strong. After the shock settled a little, my mind was clouded with fear. Bad things can happen in dark alleyways, and I wasn't about to become another fucking statistic. I pulled at the man's hand, desperately trying to break free. But the man in the suit had an iron grip, keeping me firmly in place, several inches off of the ground. My fight or flight had already kicked in, and I was kicking at this man with all of the force I had, which was admittedly low since I had walked 15 blocks in the rain with a binder on, not a healthy combo. Combined with the pressure on my windpipe, I could barely breathe.

The man laughed as he held me there, weak and pathetic, fighting for dear life and on the verge of tears.

"It's worthless, little boy." He growled, and I saw now he had a pair of long white canines. "There's no escape now."

Oh, fuck no. No no no no, those things aren't real. Monsters don't exist. they shouldn't, at least…

"W-what do you want?" I wheezed, tears pricking at my eyes. I started feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

"I might kill you. Drain your blood, leave you here for someone to find you." He starts, nodding his head from side to side as if weighing his options. "Or maybe I could turn you. Curse you with eternal life, give you the thirst for blood… which would you prefer?"

"I… I don't wanna die." I whimpered, not fully thinking what I was saying, tears streaming down my face.

"Unfortunately that's not an option, dollface." He smirked. "But I'll give you the next best thing." And with that, he plunged his fangs into my neck.

Up until this point, I had tried to convince myself that this dude was just some fucked up lunatic with coincidentally long teeth. But as soon as he bit me, there was no denying it. This asshole was a vampire, and I was fully about to die. Fuck, what am I gonna tell Justin? I guess nothing, he probably wouldn’t believe me anyways, if I even survive.

I thought that getting bit would hurt a lot more than it did, but it felt a lot like getting a shot - not painless, but unpleasant. I could feel the life being sucked out of me, and the longer it went on the more hazy my consciousness became. I fully lost consciousness after 10 seconds. The last thing I remember is his breath on my neck as my humanity melted away.

I wake up as I feel someone grabbing me around the torso. My vision is hazy and I feel hungry. My mind is hazy, I can’t manage to think of anything but death. I do my best to focus on what’s happening, who’s grabbing me, and slowly my vision clears and I can see that I’m in the arms of a hulking humanoid with green skin and an underbite with two giant protruding from its mouth. I start to panic all over again. What happened after I passed out? How long was I out? I start flailing frantically, trying to escape the clutches of this green-skinned monster. It notices me squirming, and holds me out at arms length by my underarms. Its silver eyes look me up and down, and as it seems to notice the fear in my eyes its own expression softens.

“Wh-who are you?” I manage to say as my mind fills with thoughts of escape, get away, kill whoever stops you and I hold back the urge to bite this thing. “What happened? Am I dead?”

Its eyes fill with a look of hurt and grief. “God, you’re so young. Fucking monsters, doing this to a kid…” Its - their? - voice is gruff, but more in a butch lesbian way than an MMA fighter way. Their face lightens a little, forcibly, eyes still full of grief. “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Yvonne, I work with a group that’s supposed to stop shit like this from happening to kids like you. Fuck, these assholes get so damn confident on rainy days…"

"Why did you grab me?" I ask slowly, suppressing the overwhelming thoughts of death as much as I can. "Why didn't you just leave me there?"

They take a deep breath and go down to their knees and set me on the ground, still holding onto my sides, so we're eye to eye. "Fledglings like you are often overwhelmed by their desires. I can see the bloodlust in your eyes, kid, and you're doing a hell of a job suppressing them like this. But by the time the sun sets you will have drawn blood, and that has caused a lot of good kids a lot of grief the day after. The group I work for works to prevent things like this - vampirism and lycanthropy and the like - from being spread, but sometimes shit like his happens, someone gets infected, and we have a responsibility to contain those kids, give them resources for dealing with their passive urges, help them get their fix in a way that doesn't put anyone at risk."

"I am dead." I mutter, going limp in Yvonne's arms and start crying. "Fuck, the universe won't give me a break, will it?"

"I'm sorry, baby." Yvonne mutters, pulling me back towards their - her? - chest and holding me in a tight hug. "Shit, 10 minutes and I would've been there, 10 minutes and this wouldn't've happened to you."

"Wh-why do you care about me?" I whimper, curling up in her arms. "I… I'm just some stupid kid."

"Everyone deserves someone who looks out for them, baby." She sighs. "I wouldn't wish what happened to you on my worst enemies. This area is my responsibility, this happened on my streets, I need to make sure you don't think you're alone in this."

"Th-thank you." Is all I can manage, before the thoughts are back at full force and I clutch my head, keeping my head between my legs, my mouth away from Yvonne and my eyes away from any people. I hiss as the thoughts invade my mind like a plague. All I can think about is death, of blood, of killing everyone, of killing this woman who has just shown me overwhelming kindness despite never having met me before. I start crying even harder, trying to make the thoughts go away, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up at Yvonne, a look of complete calm settled over her face - I wonder if she works in healthcare? - as she holds a small labelless juicebox.

"Cow blood." She says simply. "Helps with the urges."

I snatch the box out of her hand, poke the seal open with a fingernail, and chug the metallic liquid inside. It feels wrong, but my mind is so clouded with the need to drink that this seems like the greatest thing I've ever consumed. I feel a little dirty after doing it, but the thoughts are quieter.

“Can we leave?” I ask hesitantly. “I want to learn how to deal with this. And I don’t want to be here anymore.”

She nods, and stands up. “We need to get to Belvedere Castle. Do you have a way of getting home from there?”

I shake my head. “My brother lives in Mott Haven… and someone stole my wallet, so my only way of getting there is walking. All I have is my Motorola Droid.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you want to go to your brother’s house first?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do two subway rides in a row. Plus, I need to figure out… how to tell him.”

She nods again. “You got a name I can call you, baby?”

“Uh, V-Victor.” I respond shakily, everything that’s happened in the past half an hour has me reeling and stressed and convinced that I must’ve just been pushed into oncoming traffic and this is a comatose nightmare, that a monster lady didn’t just have to explain to me that I’m a fucking vampire now. Monsters aren't supposed to be real, they’re not supposed to be able to walk through Manhattan totally unnoticed.

I’m not supposed to be one.

"Well, Victor, you good to walk the mile down to the park?"

I nod. “I… I have a binder on though… I can’t walk very fast.”

She looks confused for a moment, then realization flashes across her face. “That's good to know. We can get you connected to other trans guys at headquarters.”

“Th-there are other guys like me?” I’ve never heard of a trans vampire before.

“Nothing says monsters can’t be queer.” She reasons. “My girlfriend is a lycanthrope.”

I nod, a sense of lingering awe hanging in my mind. There are other people like me. This isn’t as much of a death sentence as I thought it was. It’s just another half an hour of walking to get to Belvedere Castle.

The rain is coming down even harder now, the clouds dark with the threat of thunder. I smile a little at that - I've always loved the sound of thunder. Vampirism isn't gonna fuck that over for me. Nothing can fuck up the pure joy the sound of thunder or sight of lightning gives me.

We head out, and I realize now just how hard it still is to breathe. My throat is burning, my binder is crushingly tight, and on top of that my legs feel like jelly. I do my best to keep pace with Yvonne, which is difficult to do without letting her know anything is wrong.

We get to Park Avenue before I have to pause and catch my breath. I tap Yvonne's arm as I wheeze slightly, leaning on a nearby building as I take as deep of breaths as I can.

"You good, baby?" She asks gently, and I nod in between breaths.

"Fine, just… drained." I mutter, not telling her about how tight my binder is. If she knows she'll make me take it off and that'll be worse than any broken ribs I might get.

"Take your time." She reassures me, leaning against the building and crossing her arms.

I mutter an unintelligible thanks, and take a minute or so to let my heart rate slow down and my lungs return to functioning normally.

"Alright," I sigh as my breathing returns to normal, "I'm good. Let's keep going."

She nods a little hesitantly, but makes no comment. I let out a tiny sigh of relief as we continue towards the park.

Lightning fills the sky by the time we reach Belvedere Castle. I smile wide as the flashes dance through the clouds, high above the highrise buildings of Manhattan. The water in Turtle Pond is constantly shifting under the barrage of the rain, warping the reflections of the trees and the castle above. Yvonne walks around the outside of the building, periodically knocking on stones as she goes, then walking into the castle and disappears as she rounds a corner inside. I trail close behind her, glad to get fully out of the rain. As I turn the corner where Yvonne disappeared, I find myself inside of a real, proper castle, walls lined with sconces fitted with lightbulbs and a giant chandelier hangs from the high ceiling. I run up to follow right at Yvonne’s feet, as the dozen or so people milling about turn to look at us. I can feel the creeping eyes of all of the people around the hall watching me, and I grab onto Yvonne’s shirt like a little kid following his mom. I have never felt less my age than I do at this moment.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, Victor.” She mutters, “Most of them won’t bite you.”

I snort at that, but her comment does little to stop the anxiety welling in my chest. Fuck, today is utter bullshit. It’s not even noon.

Yvonne leads us down a series of hallways, and everywhere we turn there are more people turning to look at me as we pass. I bear my teeth at a few of them out of fear, before remembering that probably has very different implications now that I have horrible vampire fangs. I keep my head down after that. I can still feel all of the eyes on me, but I do my best to ignore it.

“Arthur!” Yvonne yells as she guides us into an office-type room. “We’ve got a new infected!”

A man walks out from a sideroom and glares over at her. “This fucking early?” He hisses, then he sees me poking around from behind Yvonne. His expression shifts from annoyed to sad, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Where?” He grumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“86th and 1st.” She mutters. “He showed a surprising level of self-control right after he woke up. But… I still didn’t get there in time to stop it. The FUCKING train was late and now this kid’s dead.”

“It’s not as much of a death sentence as you think, Yvonne.” Arthur sighs, then looks at me. “What’s your name, son?”

“V-Victor, sir.” I respond quietly. This man is tall, maybe 6’2”, with sharp facial features.  His cheekbones are high, and his nose is a little crooked, and his skin is deathly pale. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a Queen shirt, and he looks like hasn’t slept in a while.

“Well, Victor, I’ve been living like this for 50 years, and I’m perfectly fine… as long as I remember to eat…” he looks at me a little closer, squinting his eyes. “How old are you, kid?”

“Um… I’m twenty…” I squeak, getting a little bit of sensory overload at this point. I pop my knuckles to try and ground myself a little. My binder suddenly feels a lot tighter again.

“Jesus fuckin christ…” he groans, resting his face in his hand. “those bastards love to turn em young, huh?”

I nod a little, then things start to go out of focus. The room is spinning, my vision blacks out, and before I know it I’m on the ground. Fuck this spandex deathtrap.

[ziracona]

i hunger,,,,, pls feed me the post entity headcanons i need more of my happy kids

Heck yeah Anon!

Laurie ends up studying from home a lot, so she can stay with Michael, and teach him, but she enjoys it. Michael is smart, and he’s a quick learner in general. Laurie’s a good teacher, because her brother gets frustrated easily, and she’s great at navigating around that so he won’t quit whatever she’s trying to help him learn. It’s hard for Laurie at first, emotionally, to be walking her brother through reading elementary school age kids books, because it’s so unfair he wasn’t given an education, but after a little while, she gets used to it, and enjoys working with him a lot more than is made sad by it. She’s very proud of him for getting things, and makes him feel good about his progress. He is proud of himself too.

Dwight is a weenie when it comes to outdoorsy stuff bc he never did it, but after the realm, he’s happy to try out hiking and stuff with Jake, and they really enjoy it. Jake is willing to play games and go on tv show binges with Dwight in return, and they round each other really well. They’re extremely happy. They also are way more social than they thought, because they never had and real friends before (for wildly different reasons) and cannot /stand/ Quentin and Claudette going away to college, and go up to hang out and take them on trips all the time bc they miss them, although Jake tries to keep that low-key and on the dl way more than Dwight does (he’s actually more distressed about his absent friends he didn’t know he needed tho lol).

Quentin and Claudette go to the same college, and Nancy goes to Grad School with them. Philip goes too, to audit, since he never got a complete formal education, growing up during a war, and straight up going from where he is to /taking/ courses would be stressful. He takes all of Claudette’s classes w her and she walks him through stuff and is teaching him abt plants. The four of them share an appartment close to campus & enjoy it a lot. Nancy and Claudette share an interest (canon to both) in entomology, and love talking about it.

Meg does end up becoming a PI and working with Tapp, who helps her get certified too. They work missing persons cases for extremely cheap, and try to help people. They’re really poor but really good at it, and David bankrolls the whole squad any time someone looks like they’re in need or maybe would just be happy to see cash. Susie stays with her and supports her through school, and decides to try out a lot of things to kind of find her own way in life. Meg loves her very much and helps her figure herself out. They (and Tapp) stay with Meg’s mom Rachel and Gabriel and his daughter Adrianna (the people she made a deal w who helped her survive her cancer treatment), and get along well. David buys Gabriel and Adrianna a house, bc he’s David, but they live across the street and spend a lot of time all together. Rachel moms Susie very effectively.

Adam’s book is successful. He gets a job teaching again, creative writing this time & literature, and enjoys it. He keeps writing too. Jeff, Kate, Ace, and David are his volunteer beta group and do book club over his new chapters and he loves them so much he has cried about it at least twice. Ace and Adam honor their idea to have people all get together at least twice a year for cool trips. In all honesty, they’re kind of all constantly with each other, just rotating from house to house, but biannually they go somewhere new, or out of the country and new to some of them. Min gets to take Nea to China and shows her favorite spots, and shows Quentin shrines, which she’d really wanted to do. They go to China four years after escaping, at which point Anna is rehabilitated, so she gets to go too.

Anna stays with Min, Ace, and Nea most of the time while Quentin is in college, once she’s deemed no longer a threat and is okay to be out in society. It’s very hard for her, because the world is so different, but her kids are FIERCECLY protective, and make her life really good in spite of all the things that should make it impossible. She and Alan have a really weird relationship, because he’s Quentin’s dad and she’s his weird feralish kidnap/adoptive mom, but after an initially weird phase, they get along pretty well, and Anna spends a good deal of time there too, and at the Cabin in Indiana (which officially becomes Jake, Dwight, and Adam’s place of residence, but is also more or less home to everyone forever). Alan has a hard time figuring her out, because she’s so weird and it’s surreal, but she really loves his kid and after seeing them interact enough and how protective and loving she is, he decides he likes her. He tries to go out of his way to be nice to her and make her feel wanted and welcome and like she fits in. Anna likes him too, although she takes a /long/ time to get used to the concept of a Dad entirely. It actually helps her broach a lot of her lingering distaste for men. Eventually he’s someone she looks forward to seeing, and will bring gifts she makes to, along with her kids and their friends.

[living-in-the-state-of-dreaming]

Hi! I recently read your Yandere Chuuya oneshot and loved it! Spot on my dude! Anyway I'd like to request some yandere headcannons for Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi, and Akutagawa...How would they react to a pregnant s/o attempting to escape captivity? (She hasn't told him she is pregnant and that's why she's trying to escape)

I’m. So. Sorry for the wait with this. x_x I’ve never written something to do with pregnancy before so this was more than a little challenging to write but I sincerely hope that it was worth the wait. 

Also if some of the mentioned people in these requests have longer parts then the others I’m very sorry. x_x I’m not trying to trick you out of anything.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Akutagawa is unquestionably merciless and cold when it comes to most things. However, the anger that comes to him when he returns home and finds you trying to escape him will cause him to be enraged. 

He will without a doubt grab you by the collar of whatever you are wearing or a few strands of your hair and drag you back into the room while your cries of pain fall on deaf ears if he’s not wearing his trademark coat. Though if he is wearing his coat then expect to be quickly grabbed by Rashomon, dragged back into the room and pinned to the bed while Ryunosuke simply stares at you with cold eyes that are burning with the silent rage and he will not have Rashomon release you until you explain yourself. 

Though he may appear composed in truth he is absolutely livid that you tried to escape him, and even if he doesn’t say as much it will be in his voice and eyes. Had he not given you everything? Everything that he had done had been for you and yet you try to escape? Perhaps he had been far too lenient with you or maybe he had been simply fooled by how you were behaving that he had allowed you to be unrestrained. After all, he had so far neglected using the chains, the collar, and the handcuffs but if you were going to continue to be stubborn and resist then he would have no choice. 

One of the many punishments was about to come your way since betrayal or things like this were never something that Akutagawa was very forgiving of, especially when it came to you. Losing you was something he would never allow. However, when the words leave your lips with fear twinged and pleading eyes Akutagawa’s thoughts come to a complete stop and for just a moment his eyes widen in stunned skeptic shock. 

Silence. For a long moment that is all, you’re met with. 

Pregnant? You were pregnant with his- His Child? 

Error AkutawaRyunosuke.exe has stopped responding. Please wait a moment as the system tries to restart and reboot.

He’s completely taken aback and unsure what to make of this news and even skeptical, as for a moment the thought that you were only saying such things to avoid your impending punishment comes to him, but the look in your eyes tells him otherwise. Both guilt and regret quickly come to him at how harsh he had been with his aforementioned treatment of you while the two words crawl up his throat and to the tip of his tongue.

Along with this guilt and regret that he has comes anxiety of what that entails and this is one that troubles him greatly. The thoughts of whether or not he is ready to be a father come and stay in his mind constantly since while he has experience with looking after Gin, a baby was a completely different matter and one that he isn’t entirely sure that he’s ready for.

After learning this Akutagawa will take time for himself, leading him to leave the room but not before locking it behind him. During this time he will use this time alone to process the news and you will likely not see him for a few hours or more.

When you do see him in the morning Akutagawa’s uncertainty will still be with him but his demeanor towards you will have changed. He will be more careful towards you and more awkward around you and this is something that is very easily seen when he brings you breakfast the next morning and his body language will seem stiffer. It will only be when you give him reassuring words or touches that he will visibly relax, before just sitting there with you for a while.

Sometimes his eyes will just drift to your stomach and his eyes will just stay on your stomach for a while, while his eyes unconsciously and noticeably soften. If you notice this and tease him about it; his cheeks will darken with an embarrassed blush and he’ll quickly look away, and while he won’t deny it he won’t confirm it either.

Akutagawa will undoubtedly grow even more protective and possessive over you the longer this news sets in, this is something that both he and Atsushi have in common. However, while Atsushi is like a tiger protecting its mate from any danger that poses a threat to them; Akutagawa is like a wolf, baring its fangs and viciously tearing apart any who dare try touching his mate. The fangs will come in the form of the glares that will be seen in his eyes if anyone tries anything with you while you are on an outing; whether it be just a walk through the park at night or to a doctors appointment and it goes without saying that whoever's dumb enough to try to lay a hand on you with ill intent; will be met by those vicious claws in the form of Rashomon, as they tear the fool to shreds without hesitation.

This is something the poor doctor who takes your appointments is not exempt from either, especially if this doctor happens to be a male. The entire time that doctor is giving you a checkup and checking the progress and health of the baby Aktuagawa’s eyes will be watching his every move and if his hands linger a little too long for his liking, his eyes will shift into a glare which will make the poor guy noticeably flinch. Honestly just see a female doctor it’s better for everyone that way. 

Atsushi Nakajima

Atsushi’s response to you trying to escape will be a mixture of self-hatred and desperation. This mix is only pushed on by his obsessive desire and need that he feels to protect you. It goes without saying that Atsushi has never felt much self-worth, he knows that you could do far better than him and that he doesn’t deserve you but at the same time he knows how horrible and cruel this world is, but that will not stop the tears from coming to and from his eyes as he begs you to stay; while he only just holds himself back from grabbing you and holding you to him to keep you from leaving him behind. There are so many people outside that could hurt you or worse! People exactly like the port mafia and he only wants to keep you safe! Isn’t it normal to want to protect the one you love?? You love him too so why won’t you let him??

Along with this mixture is confusion. Why? Why are you trying to escape? You were safe with him, he loved you so much and he’d happily give you anything. He’d wait on you hand and foot if you so desired. He’d do anything for the person who had made him feel wanted and loved for the first time in his life.

Silence would come to Atsushi as he sits next to you having locked the front door upon entering it again and this confusion and frustration will push and pull at him to ask and to demand why you tried to leave. 

When the confession comes from your lips Atushi will be stunned into silence like Akutagawa and for a moment he will just look at you with his lips parted in a small o. In that silence he will be trying to read your expression almost to see if you were lying but then again he knows you wouldn’t lie about something so big, he knew you, that wasn’t like you. 

Pregnant? W-With his baby? You were pregnant with his baby? 

Hearing this will cause his confusion to come to him again, first beginning with why would you want to leave if you were pregnant before the other questions came to his head. Was he ready to be a father??? The very thought made his head spin with confusion and concern. The aspect of being someone's father had never been something that Atsuhi had ever considered. What if he messed up? What if he wasn’t good enough as a father to the child? What if-?? All of these questions that spin around in his head will be joined by the most pressing question. What if this child inherited his ability? 

However at the end of all this one thing seems to reassure him and that’s the fierce will he had to protect you except now it isn’t just you who he wants to protect, but the child inside of you too. Even if the aspect of being a father scares him beyond belief and the possibilities that he would be a horrible father makes him incredibly nervous and worried he knows that there is nothing he can do except try. Despite this worry though, there are no words for how happy he is to learn this.

After he learns of your pregnancy Atsushi’s protectiveness of you will only increase. He is a tiger after all and tigers are always protective over their mates, especially when they’re pregnant with their cubs, however, his obsession with you causes him to be a little overbearing at times to the point where it’s close to smothering, even when you both go out for your appointments. 

Chances are that he will call into the Agency a few times from the desire and need he has to be near you and make sure that you are always comfortable, but when he is at work and on the job Atsushi’s thoughts will be on you constantly.

When at home there’s nothing that Atsushi enjoys more than being curled up next to you on the couch while you are snuggled up in a blanket that he had earlier got you while you either watch TV or just a movie that you wanted to watch. At first he was shy and extremely embarrassed to ask if he could rub your stomach; but after asking a few times even after you said yes it will become second nature to Atsushi and when the baby kicks Atsushi will be unable to keep from gazing at your stomach with both love, awe and amazement at the thought of a child made from the two of you is growing inside of you right now.

Don’t be surprised if you both end up falling asleep with his hand still on your stomach, while his free arm which had transformed into that of a tigers is wrapped around you; the action will seem tender and loving but it will also be to keep you from escaping should you even attempt to do so again.

Osamu Dazai

Given just how perceptive Dazai is it’s very bold of you to even assume that you can hide anything from Dazai, much less the fact that you are pregnant with his child. 

Out of the four of them, it’s extremely likely that Dazai would have already picked up on the signs and put the pieces together, leading him to come to the conclusion himself before you even tell him

On one side he’s hurt that you’d feel the need to hide this from him, but the other is also understanding especially since you hadn’t exactly come into this relationship willingly. 

He’ll continue to act oblivious to this fact and play it off as if everything is normal but every so often he’ll ask you while dropping little hints but never coming right out and saying it, which will lead you to guess if he knows constantly to yourself.

While he does this conflict will be occurring in himself as well. Having children had never been something that he had never considered or really thought about after all his wish was to one day leave this mortal coil and the person he desires to do just that with one day was you. Yet now you were pregnant with his child. This makes him feel conflicted as he does not want to leave this child alone to fend for themselves should he follow through with his desires; as he knows just how cruel this world can be, especially if you have to go through that by yourself. 

Maybe this child could be another source of light and warmth for him just like you are to him. A means for him to find some hope in this world that in the past has given him nothing but darkness, one that he still fights within himself and at times comes to the surface, like his obsession with you.

These thoughts continue to go around in his head as he makes his way home after finally being allowed to come home to you, however when he finds the door unlocked and you nowhere in sight one big torrent of emotions go through him beginning from worry, to panic to fear and then a rage that’s followed by the desire to make whoever took you wish they were dead; only to draw out their suffering before ending their miserable lives for daring to even attempt to take you from him. 

However, as he takes more things into account such as the lack of signs of a struggle and the lack of evidence that leads to that, Dazai comes to another realization. One that will fill him with disappointment and hurt but his anger will not fade. You’d left on your own accord, though he isn’t too worried, he’d find you. He’d always find you and the fact that he knew you down the last detail including your thought process and where you’d likely be it doesn’t take long until he does. 

Once he finds you he’ll greet you with a perfectly innocent smile but one look in his eyes lets you know that that’s just a visage and it’s not long after that he informs you that he knew. He knew everything all along. 

As much as he would love to give you one of his very creative punishments he doesn’t want to harm your child in any way and so he lets you off easily and by the look in his eyes when you get home you know to consider yourself lucky.

While he won’t keep you restrained after your little stunt Dazai’s watch over you will become more intense, and every time you go to an appointment, he is always there; playing the role as the perfect and friendly boyfriend to everyone around you, including the doctor. Should you act hesitant to the point where you begin to draw suspicion from the doctor; the look that he’ll send you for just a moment when no one is looking and the dark curl of a smirk that will appear as an all too familiar warning will quickly change your behavior like a switch as you know full well what awaits if you choose to stir Dazai’s temper. 

However, on a lighter note Dazai’s affectionate, tender and loving side will come out more and he’ll feel relieved at no longer having to act oblivious to the fact that his darling is pregnant. He’ll happily call in sick under the notion that you aren’t feeling well that morning and he has to take care of you but he’ll do this just so he can spend more alone time with you.

Your lack of energy due to your pregnancy will be something that he will take complete advantage of and a majority of these moments will be spent wrapped in Dazai’s embrace as he holds you close to him and cuddles you. He’s not the best cook and is usually lazy but if you ask him to cook you up something easy like instant ramen a well as bring you a glass of orange juice he’ll happily do that for you while making himself up a cup of instant ramen himself, before getting back into bed with you and enjoying his ramen there while you both just relax and enjoy tv. After all, since he’s been dosing your food with that sleeping medicine that he plucked off the shelf on the hospital; due to using his skilled hands why wouldn’t he enjoy every moment without worry.

Chuuya Nakahara

Please for the love of cheese give the Bitter lil Espresso kids. He really wants them, especially with his darling.

If there is ever a moment where his darling is around kids and those gentle and warm smiles come to their expression while they interact with them; a warm feeling will settle in his chest and it will only push on this desire to have them with you someday.

However when you begin to be constantly sick this warm feeling that had started in his chest once again as he found himself thinking back on it to himself will quickly change to concern. At first, he’ll think it’s just a stomach virus that’s going around but then he notices how strange your so-called virus was. You were throwing up constantly. 

As the pieces click together the longer this continues he’ll feel like this is way too good to be true, making him skeptical at first. Chuuya will ask you if you were alright in spite of knowing the answer as a means to push and encourage you to tell him but when you choose not to tell him and instead just give him an excuse that you think is believable others he’ll leave it alone for the time being and just wait until you decide to tell him yourself. 

However, while he is at work his thoughts will be all over the place from the prospect of possibly being a father and then shifting to the possibility that he was just overthinking this and blowing it out of proportion. Sure he wanted kids but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have his doubts and worries, having a parent who's in the Port Mafia wasn’t exactly the ideal parent for any child after all. Still, the thought of having a family with you is and has always been something that Chuuya has secretly wished for, but this is something that he will never admit to anyone but you.

After being cooped up inside with meetings and documents all day all Chuuya wanted was to go home and relax with you, in fact, the thought of seeing you made a soft smile grace his expression for just a moment, the smile he would only ever reserve for you. However, he comes home to find you have not only broken the window but were trying to escape out of it his blood runs cold as the smile completely leaves his expression. 

Fucking hell he thought you were over this! Instantly Chuuya will make a b line for you, grabbing ahold of your arm and pulling you back inside while being very careful not to injure you on the glass. Both hurt and seething from anger Chuuya will be seething inside as he’ll look at you with only barely held back anger in his eyes. If you don’t give him an honest answer then and there his anger will flare to the point where his ability will activate all while his grip stays on the wrist that he had pulled you back inside with. He won’t hurt you but he will use it to hold you down if you insist on being stubborn and not tell him the truth. 

When you do and the answer that a part of him already knew comes to his ears Chuuya’s eyes widen for just a moment before his eyes soften, so you were pregnant. He knew it. All the signs had pointed to that after all, but still, if you were pregnant then why the hell were you trying to leave him? He knew that your relationship wasn’t exactly healthy but everything he’d done had been for you, this was all to protect you, he loved you down to his very marrow and yet you still tried escaping? Again? After all this time?

Due to how hurt he feels over this it will lead Chuuya to become cold towards you for the rest of the night, and should you try to earn his trust again he will be a little bit suspicious at first but soon he’ll begin to relax, after all as much as you hurt him by trying to escape, he could never hate or stay mad at you for too long, those smiles and touches that you gave him made it near impossible for him to and soon enough things will return to ‘normal’ as his warm and passionate side will surface once more. 

Gentle kisses on your cheek and forehead while you sit on his lap while he enjoys a glass of wine on the sofa as you watch tv will be like heaven to him, but not quite as much as knowing that you, his queen were pregnant with his child. Even if he is busy at work he will always make time for you, if you want him to pick up something for you be it food, drink or other things he’ll get it for you on his way home or he’ll stop in when he has time for the purpose of giving you what you asked for and if it’s for an appointment to cheek up on the baby Chuuya will always ensure that he is able to make it to them.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xv. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Parallel scene: The Garden of Dreams from the main arc of The Beast with the Beautiful Face.

Obi and Shirayuki began to live like they were dreaming, like they had forgotten the rest of the world entirely.

Shirayuki stopped visiting her office. She never thought of retrieving her daily apportioned tasks from Lord Haruka, who continued as instructed to oversee her abortive training until the first prince returned to pronounce what her future would hold.

A tidy pile of his summons and assignments collected on her desk, unseen and unattended, while she spent hours in the greenhouses with Obi.

...

That morning, when the first shadow fell across their happiness, he was lost in contemplating her.

She sits cross-legged, her skirts a snowy puddle, while he lounges at her side. She was intent on husking a basket of fat brown seeds--delicate, tedious work--and he was intent on her.

When his mind wasn’t full of her looks, her voice, her presence, his thoughts revolved on two questions: how? and, when?

...

Obi had thought more than once of marrying, in a manner of speaking: forging contracts, teasing marks with half-unspoken proposals, even shamming husband and wife with partners. 

Wedlock was a potent tool in the underground repertoire. 

Like a good blade, it cut across class lines, striking blue blood as easily as the dirtiest street wastrel’s. Like poison, it clouded people’s thinking and rendered them witless. Like steel cords, it promised a permanent binding.

The experienced practitioner held marriage in his back pocket as a trump card, that one estate that any man may enter into voluntarily and none escape without difficulty.

It was like death, they said, a death that began a new life. Flaunt it, play with it, but never indulge it--unless nothing but an act like suicide would serve your purpose.

What Obi feels now is as different from the contracts, the machinations, the feigning and mutual using, as a bird from a worm.

It makes him giddier than a night of drinking ever has.

...

Obi had surprised her when he proposed, but he hadn’t surprised himself. 

She captivated him from nearly the first moment he laid eyes on her. When she tore his arrow with its threatening message from the wall, his heart seized as if in fear for his life.

A professional gambler who settled his bets in blood, he naturally paid attention when his instincts screamed danger. She was something more than a risk, though: Shirayuki was an enigma.

How could someone of no name and no means make enemies of lords and princes? Where did a woman the size of a child find the courage to brush past arrows and swords? What was her secret?

He trailed her, asked questions, pondered his strange, uncontrollable responses to her presence. By the time he recognized the shape of the snare, it was too late: He was hooked.

As his instincts had predicted, Shirayuki proved a mortal threat. She had conquered him, body and soul.

She wasn’t a need that could be answered with anything less than everything.

He had made do in the meantime -- guarding her life with his own, anticipating her deepest needs, bowing to her every whim -- but it wasn’t enough.

Some part of him had always been waiting for the chance to offer himself up to her in the most complete way possible.

...

'Done!' Shirayuki sits back, wiping her hands.

As she reaches up to push the hair back from her face, Obi catches her arm. 

She starts. 

His fingers are light as stirred air, encircling her with a grip like a strand of cobweb silk. Any abrupt movement from her would snap it, yet it holds her with the persistence of a powerful fragility.

He draws her hand towards him and kisses the inside of her wrist. 

Lips against her skin, Obi murmurs, “I have never been in love before, miss.”

...

Obi rarely speaks of his past, and never to Shirayuki. This is as close as he will come to an admission of the broken things like relationships that he experienced before accepting his position at Wilant.

She doesn’t hear the heaviness concealed beneath his words, couldn’t guess at the darkness they hide, but she feels with a wordless intuition that he is thanking her for something that should come to every human being’s life as a matter of course--not as a gift.

Her heart cleaves to him, not only for the welcome relief of his steady nearness, but from a simple desire to see him happy.

“Shirayuki,” she says quietly, her expression tender. “Please call me Shirayuki.”

...

This was the tableau that greeted Royal Pharmacist Higata when he entered the greenhouse: the princess and the outlaw, inclined towards each other among the garden beds, almost intertwined.

He might have escaped without their ever noticing, but Higata hesitated.

A fatal sense of duty muddled his purpose and cost him precious seconds of confusion: His immediate supervisor had entrusted him with a message for none other than Shirayuki herself. 

“Get this to her highness as soon as you can,” Yatsufusa had ordered. “She needs to know.”

The young pharmacist had worn away the morning with searching for her. By the time he left the East Wing, he had resigned himself to the failure of his mission. 

Now he faltered, trapped by the conflicting desires to dispatch his errand and vanish from the face of the earth.

He lingered just long enough to break the spell.

...

Shirayuki hears his surprise, tastes his dismay, or feels his shadow. By sense or intuition, the awful interruption makes itself known to her.

She stiffens, would have risen to her feet in confusion, but Obi sits up and throws an arm around her shoulders.

“Yes?” he drawls.

...

The pharmacist’s eyes are round as coins. He lifts the message he carries like a shield between himself and Obi, shrinking behind the roll of paper.

“Sh-should I come back...some other time...?” he stammers.

Obi laughs, low and pleasant. “No, stay and give the lady her message! It’s a busy time for her right now…”

Remorseless, relentless, he throws his cards on the table face-up: “...she has a wedding to plan!”

...

When Obi said this, he was by no means being reckless.

Rather, he showed himself reckless for a calculated purpose, in exactly that fashion that tried Kiki's patience.

He knew Higata, knew his habits, and his character: By revealing their plans to him, Obi was casting a stone into a very small pool. 

If the ripples reached anyone, roused anything, Obi was prepared to take the risk that the forces at play would ally themselves alongside Shirayuki, not against her.

Thus was his first advance towards delivering on the promise he had made her: that they would be together.

...

At the words, Shirayuki’s blush darkened until the heat from her face rippled the air. 

Higata stared at her in horrified fascination. “W-wedding?” he repeats. “Wedding?”

He did not say what he surely must have been thinking - that the most recent occasion for planning weddings had passed, and the season for planning another had yet to arrive.

...

Shirayuki could hardly think and would not have spoken except that Higata’s incredulity awakened her sense of loyalty.

To say nothing would be to betray Obi, or at least abandon him, at the very moment when she should claim him.

So she said: “Yes. Obi and I are getting married soon.”

The scroll slips from Higata’s fingers. It flutters to the floor between them like a castoff formality.

Though soundless, the impact made Shirayuki cringe as if he had struck a gong.

...

Only Obi showed no signs of strain. He continued smiling, holding the princess against his side, daring the world to object.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Nine: I Wish I’d Never Seen ___ ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

...this is a disaster. Hinata barely understands what’s going on, but one thing she does know is that this is bad. Like...really really bad.

Sasuke has, on occasion, tried explaining various parts of Nightwalker culture to her. But that on top of her university studies (especially since he rarely talks to her when it’s not extremely late at night and she’s exhausted) just...hasn’t really stuck with her very well.

Right this moment, however, she’s really wishing she’d paid more attention.

All she knows is that she is currently the ‘guest’ of one of the most powerful people in Japan. And by powerful, she doesn’t just mean influential, or rich, but literally powerful.

Because he’s a centuries-old vampire.

Uchiha Madara has been a name she’s heard several times while speaking with her vampiric friend, Uchiha Sasuke: a descendent (she’s not sure how directly) of Madara. Part of the same vampire coven here in Japan. Hinata met Sasuke when he saved her life from a different vampire who very much wanted to kill and eat her.

And that meeting led to...well, this. And many things in between.

Sasuke, you see, works for Madara as a kind of...officer. Madara, from what she understands, is something called a Senator. In short, he represents all of the vampires in Japan...in both a national Senate, and a global one. Which makes him a very important figure in the world of monsters, or as they prefer to be called, Nightwalkers.

Hinata, on the other hand, is a descendent of a different ‘breed’. Not human (or Daywalker, in the old terms), not Nightwalker...but a Twilightwalker. Known by varying names all over the globe. In English, most simply summarized as a witch. In Japan, they took on roles as miko. And miko - witches - have interesting powers over not only a specific element, but...Nightwalkers, as well.

...and possibly humans. She’s not sure on that part, she’s still learning.

Point being...she’s considered a very dangerous breed to Nightwalkers: the only thing they really fear. Sasuke discovered her powers by accident when she stopped him from wiping her memory to try and keep her from discovering their world. Hinata, however, had long since known about Nightwalkers, able to see them in ways humans can’t due to her powers.

...but that sight is getting her into rather deep trouble.

Sasuke had, at first, worried Madara might want her killed to eliminate a threat. True witches and descendents of the old miko with power still in their veins are rare. But Madara appears to have other plans: ones to possibly harness her abilities for his own gain.

...it’s apparently not the first time he’s done so to other Nightwalkers.

Hinata ended up in the Senator’s clutches after letting herself be out at night alone, for the briefest of times. And now, she’s awaiting her fate as Itachi attempts to negotiate and salvage the situation.

Sasuke, on the other hand, is playing guard dog outside her door.

...part of her wants to invite him in to have a friend with her, but...there’s a slight complication there. Madara, in all his wisdom, took Sasuke’s valiant speech in her defense to translate to one thing: he’d fallen in love with her.

...she...still isn’t sure what to think about that. She’s come to care for Sasuke quite deeply, sure - she saved his life once, and...well, he’s saved hers at least once. Probably more she isn’t even aware of. But...love? It just...hasn’t ever crossed her mind.

Does she...love him…?

That train of thought, however, is rather difficult to have with everything else rushing around in her brain. Hence just sort of...becoming a standing bundle of anxiety and panic, left in the middle of the room where Shisui led her and unable to do anything else. There’s too many thoughts to process, too many what-ifs to drive her mad.

...she really just needs a hug.

Swallowing thickly, she takes a trembling breath, holding it before letting it escape. She’s more than certain she won’t sleep, so...why even bother pretending?

Making up her mind, the Hyūga manages to get herself to turn around, body feeling almost strangely numb. Almost like she’s reached a weird nirvana state beyond absolute panic and just feels...nothing. But a hand manages to grasp the door handle, pull it open, and reveal the hallway outside.

...as she honestly expected, Sasuke is literally seated just outside her door on a chair, looking ready to flay anyone alive who even walks past. And even without his keen senses, he would still hear her exit, turning to behold her.

“...what are you doing?”

“Could...could you please come in?”

Dark eyes flicker over her face, as though looking for some kind of ulterior motive. But when he finds none, he abandons his perch and steps inside.

It’s a rather plain room. A bed rests in a corner, a desk with a chair along a wall. There’s a table with a few more, and it’s there Sasuke goes to sit.

Feeling a bit directionless, she follows and does the same.

“...are you all right?”

The question hangs in the air for a long, silent moment.

“...I don’t know. It’s almost like...I’m so afraid, I can’t even be afraid anymore. I know I should be, and yet...I feel like I’m not.” She manages to turn pale eyes to him. “...do you...think he’s going to kill me?”

“...no. I think we’ve convinced him you’re not a threat. Not a legitimate one, at any rate. But I’m almost worried what other path he’ll take instead. I don’t want you to live the rest of your life under his thumb.”

“...you think it would be kinder for him to kill me?”

“...for you? Possibly.”

“...but you don’t want me to die.”

“I don’t want any of this. I don’t…” He sighs, bracing his brow in a palm as his elbow perches atop the table. “...this is my fault.”

“No it isn’t -”

“If I’d just...walked away. Left you alone. Saved you, and just...forgotten about it, then you’d never have ended up here. But I kept coming back. I let my curiosity put you in harm’s way, and now -!”

“Sasuke…”

The word brings him to a stop, realizing she’s not employing the typical suffix.

“...when I was young...I was so scared of the things I would see. My mother, when she was still alive, tried to teach me about your world. About you, and people like you. But...I lost her so early, and I missed out on so much of her wisdom. And that turned my naivety into fear. My father, he...he tried to stomp it out of me. Thought that my ability could be lost if I t-tried hard enough. But even as I did my best to ignore it...it never faded. Not even a little. I just...got used to it.

“And then, that night, when that vampire was going to kill me...I felt all that fear again. I had wished I’d never been able to see your kind. And for a while after I met you, I still felt that way. But...the more we talked, and the better I got to know you, the more I realized you...you really are just...people. There’s good Nightwalkers, and bad. I have n-nothing more to fear from you than I do any human I ever meet. I was only afraid because...I didn’t know. I didn’t...understand.

“I think...that’s why I’m not afraid now. I’ve reached a point where - even if maybe I don’t know everything about all of your politics and your culture and your people - I at least know that Nightwalkers, and Daywalkers, and Twilightwalkers...we’re all the same in the w-ways that really count. We’re all just...people. And what we are doesn’t make us good or bad. We make ourselves good or bad. And...you, and your brother, and your cousin? You’re good people. Maybe Madara is...is the kind of person who would use me, and hurt me. Maybe that makes him bad. But...the rest doesn’t frighten me. Not anymore.”

All the while, as Hinata softly rambles, Sasuke watches her silently, taking in every word. Funny...he never would have imagined that the timid little human he met all those months ago would ever become someone like...this. In a way...he’s proud of her.

...but he’s still scared. Because he knows to what lengths Madara is capable of going.

“...I’m still sorry I dragged you into this. And I promise you...I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Her gaze flickers over his face. “...you were already planning to try, weren’t you? To...change things in your coven. You, and your brother, and your cousin.”

“...we were.”

“...have I...made you want to change things more?”

He doesn’t have a need to lie. “...yeah. You have. If that’s what it takes.”

“...that’s dangerous for you...isn’t it?”

“It is. But it’s a risk I’ve been willing to take before now. And now, I’m just all the more resolute. For now, we need to lie low. He might expect retaliation. But I keep my promises, Hinata. You will get out of this.”

She simply nods, and another silence blooms. But within it lingers the unaddressed subject between them.

“...was he right?”

“Who?”

“Madara. About...about you, and...why you’re doing this?”

She can see him swallow dryly. “...in all honesty...I’m still thinking. I don’t...I don’t know. I’ve never…” A stressed hand combs back through his hair. “...I dunno what that means. To...be in love with someone.”

“You’re as old as you are, and you never have?” Hinata can’t help but lightly tease, managing a ghost of a smile.

“No. Never wanted to, never tried, it just...never happened. So I don’t...I don’t know. What I do know is that the moment I thought they’d hurt you…? I went full frenzy. Without batting an eye. I’ve never...done that before. Lose my cool so completely, so quickly. I saw red. I was so angry, so ready to…”

She doesn’t reply, unsure what to say.

“...I know that...you mean a lot to me. We’ve gotten close, but...I don’t know where ‘friends’ ends and…‘more’ begins.”

“...in all fairness, neither do I. But...I know you’re very dear to me too, Sasuke. And...I feel safer with you around.”

“...even now?”

“...especially now.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, glancing aside. “...you should rest. I know you probably won’t sleep, but...at least lie down. All right?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve gone a lot longer than one night without sleep. What matters more is keeping an eye on you.”

Hinata gives another soft smile. “...thank you. I’ll lie down for a while. But...could you stay?”

“...in the room?”

“I’ll feel safer.”

“...all right. I’ll stay. Go rest.”

Nodding, she drags herself from the chair, curling up in the bed and hiding beneath the blankets. A few moments later, she feels a weight settle along the edge.

“...goodnight, Sasuke.”

“...night.”

                                                            .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 35, 44, 52, 80, 82, 105, 115, 133, 159, 162, 188, and 193!)       WELL, it's been a LONG stinkin' time since I've written in this verse, hoo boy! I have...majorly missed it. And also didn't realize just how many other days I've done in this verse, let alone in this mini series xD I'm so sorry for the long break, but...I just haven't felt a prompt was the right "next step" in this one for a while, but we've got one now!      (For those unfamiliar, I suggest checking out at least some of those previous works, but in short, this universe is one completely original to me based on politics, monsters, and all sorts of shenanigans - and I've taken to crossing Naruto into it from time to time!)      Poor Hinata...little thing's really being put through the wringer. Go all your life seeing monsters, almost get eaten by one, get SAVED by one, and then have him just...turn your life upside-down xD But overall? I think she's more glad than regretful for it all. Even if she's in one HECK of a pickle right now...she doesn't have to face it alone.      Also, just in case it's not clear, the /change things/ in regards to the Uchiha coven means that Sasuke, Itachi, and Shisui have plans to TRY to eliminate Madara. There's a lotta politics there I'd LOVE to get into...if not in the prompts, then when I try to turn this mini series into a proper fic! But that won't be until the challenge is over and I have a bit of a break :'D      ANYWAY, it's...waaaay past my bedtime, so I better stop rambling, I'm just happy to have done more in this verse! I hope y'all enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading!

[carrera-ffxiv]

Welcome to Sanctum, Pt. 2 of 3

He struggled to stay awake. One more document to review, one more and he would go home. Alas, before he knew it, he was in his old home, dreaming a lucid dream that he always did. Back home with his family. It was the same movie on repeat as he was told to greet his daughter properly and gave her a hug. Except this time, he was torn from the dream rather abruptly. “Wake up daddy…” he would hear a slight whisper.

“Huh?” was all he could sound as the dream deviated from the norm. “What did you say, love?”

“I said w-”

“Wake up.” a man in a suit kicked the table Hadriel was at. The person’s voice was level and seemed more intent on grabbing his attention than causing a ruckus. He focused on the drink in front of him and quickly finished before shifting to the bar, placing his glass down. “It’s late gentlemen, can I help you?" One seemed intent on obstructing the way but Hadriel nudged a bit forcefully past. "It's past closing time but I don't mind getting you boys a drink.” he reached for a bottle of whiskey while behind the counter.

“We’re not here for the drinks.” the forefront man waved flippantly as the other two seemed to position themselves around the bar. “You know why we’re here. You got our little message, didn’t you?”

Hadriel’s eye quickly darted about and he assessed the situation calmly. They all appeared of Doman descent. The spokesperson seemed to be unarmed. Based off of his posture and gait he assumed he was a pugilist. The bigger one carried an odachi strapped to his back while the third held onto a rifle. “Still doing that black feather thing? I always thought it was a bit played out. Are you lot new? I don’t recognize any of you.” Hadriel replied with a smirk, he seemed rather nonchalant about the whole situation. He slid a drink to his guest.

“Like I said, we’re not here for the drinks.”

He lit his pipe puffing in succession to ensure it caught, “Very professional, I like it. So then, boys, what are you here for? Makes me curious since you haven’t tried anything yet.”

“We were told to make you an offer. Wolf of Yangxia, rejoin the Black Blades and all is forgiven. Or, we return with your eye.”

“You mean this one?” he asked as he removed his eyepatch. A light blue eye with a silvery hue was revealed. “I’m quite fond of my eyes and don’t think I’m parting with either one any time soon.”

“Then you will come back? I would rather avoid violence if possible.” the de facto leader commented. “That and your Miqo’te shinobi seems to have left for the night, you’re at the disadvantage here if your choice is the latter. It’s a rather generous offer to welcome you back to your previous standing.”

“You’re new so I won’t give you a hard time for your assumptions, but what makes you think you’re at an advantage over a wolf as you enter its den? If you know about my previous standing then you shouldn’t be here all haughty. I left because I was done. They refused to hunt down traitors to Yangxia and Doma itself just because they fled to Eorzea. More worried about keeping the coffers full and skullduggery. If I kill people it’s because they belonged to the Garlean Empire or helped them desecrate our lands and soak it in blood. Not for money. I hope the gil was worth it for you to come find me.”

“The eye marks you as an executive for the Black Blades. If you no longer wish to associate with us, you forfeit your life and we will be taking it back with us. This is not a threat, this is me pleading with you one last time to consider your alternatives.”

“Nah.” 

Before anyone could blink a flash and deafening sound of lightning assaulted the room as splinters flew every which way from the bar.

“One down.” he commented as he lifted a double-barreled shotgun from under the bar and chucked the empty gun at the man closest to him. He knew he could at least try to even the odds if he took care of one with the element of surprise- he happened to choose the one with the rifle. There was no wasted movement between his actions and every fraction of a second was used advantageously. The man that had been speaking to him up till then engaged after parrying the weapon. A flurry of blows exchanged in a matter of seconds, both seemed very acquainted with close quarters combat.

Hadriel had dissuaded the other from engaging with the pipe he had held onto with a firm grip. Embers exploded everywhere forcing the second man to cover his face. This was followed by a hard kick to the chest sending him tumbling backwards, disabling him momentarily, buying Hadriel a reprieve.

His hand moved to the hilt of his katana but his initial opponent was quick to kick the hilt back into the sheath and re-engage in close-quarters combat. Every time Hadriel would reach for his blade, a hand, a boot, or a nudge came quick to stop him from drawing his blade. Each time Hadriel took advantage to get a strike in as his opponent was preoccupied with trying to stop him from using his weapon.

‘His dossier says he is proficient in iai techniques, I cannot let his blade escape the scabbard...’

Again and again, the battle repeated itself after a rapid exchange of parries of the hand, a few kicks in for good measure, both trying to control the battlespace- one trying to get close, the other trying to make room and going for his blade. Hard blows would wear Hadriel’s opponent down before it eventually dawned on him. He commented as he reeled back in pain.

“You… are just baiting me in with your blade…”

Hadriel shifted backwards in a blink and finally released his katana, deflecting the odachi from the sneak attack the larger opponent unleashed, then resheathing it as fast as it was drawn. The parry was so quick a lingering note from the metal singing remained about them while a notable ‘click’ sounded as the hilt returned to its home. The deflected odachi cleaved a nearby table and some elegant decor in half.

“Tch. That was expensive…” Hadriel remarked.

“How did you see my blade...?” the man was able to utter before collapsing.

“Did they really send you after me without telling you?... Well… I suppose there were three options. If you killed me it would’ve been fine. If I killed you, it would have never mattered even if you found out… and if I rejoined you, you would have been none the wiser.”

“What do you mean?” the last one demanded an answer.

“Figured you would have noticed during our fight. Why do you think they sent you here in the first place?”

His blade sang out one more time, again, the note lingering in the air as an audible click sounded.

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 195 - Big Bad Reputation

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

Chapter 195 - Big bad reputation

[Negan confronts Charles. Will the man holding the gun be able to make any more threats?]

"...'Cause I'm Negan."

Just three words. That was all the dark-haired man had to utter for the sound of panicked whispers to surround them suddenly.

The man named Charles stared quickly around at his people who all seemed to be shifting on their feet, looking agitated.

For Blake knew that Negan was a notorious spectre even in these parts. Known to everyone for what had to be, hundreds of miles around.

Negan had a big bad reputation. Just his name alone uttered in hushed tones was a thing of grotesque legend, and everyone here had obviously heard what he was capable of.

But while Charles stared around wild eyed, Negan and Blake kept their eyes fixed on him...ready...waiting…

"Stop it!" he hissed out to the couple of men nearest to him. But it was no use. There even came a sudden cry from one of the women behind them as Charles stared her way, lips parted, watching in horror as the integrity of his group fell apart around him.

But he tried to keep his cool as best he could, merely turning back to Negan with a sneer, giving Negan's chest a hard shove with the barrel of his gun.

"Never heard of you," he said, grimacing. "And I really couldn't give a fuck who you are. You see, we're taking your van-"

He nodded towards Lucille, still in Negan's hand.

"-your weapons, and anything else you've got. Now either you hand it all over, or I'm gonna be putting a bullet through both your skulls'."

"Charles!" came a sudden pleading voice from behind them.

Blake glanced around to see a woman in her late fifties, with sand-coloured hair, step out of the surrounding circle of people.

"Please," she continued, her brown eyes full of despereation. "You dont know who this is-"

But Charles cut her off angrily.

"I don't give a fuck who this is, Martha!" he yelled suddenly. He was breathing hard now, his cheeks looking pink. "They either give us what they have, or we kill them. Fair and square. This was the plan."

But Martha wasn't looking at Charales anymore, instead she took a step forward, her eyes darting back and forth between Negan and Blake.

"Please," she said, entwining her fingers before her in a gesture of prayer, and shaking her head. "I am so sorry. If we'd have known who you were we'd have never-"

"Martha, what the fuck are you doing?-" Charles shouted again, sounding furious.

But again the woman ignored him, and this time another man, far younger, with red hair and glasses, nodded feverently, came to stand beside her.

"She's right," he said too, in a pleading voice. "We are so sorry. Truly. Charles...H-He doesn't speak for all of us, I swear. W-We were just desperate. We thought up this stupid plan, and-"

"ENOUGH!" cried Charles, his voice echoing through the clearing, stopping the young boy mid-way through his sentence.

He was breathing hard now through his nose, looking enraged.

He turned back to Negan, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth.

"Look I don't care who you are, Asshole," he snarled out. "This was supposed to be just a simple grab and go, no one had to get hurt, but, hey, you had to mess things up for yourselves."

Charles looked down at the gun in his hands.

"Now...well….now you haven't given me a choice," he said, his adam's apple sliding down his throat as he gave a hard swallow, before he stared back up at Negan, his beady eyes meeting with the Saviour's dark and angry ones " I guess I'm going to have to kill you both, AND take your shit."

Blake gritted her teeth together furiously at his threat, lowering her chin as he wavered for a second.

"Charles," came the woman named Martha's voice once more, sounding desperate. "Please-"

But Charles spoke over her, never taking his eyes off Negan all the while.

"No, Martha! We stick to the plan!" he said loudly, his finger slowly clenching around the trigger...

But Blake, in that instant, took her chance.

This wasn't going to be the way Negan was going to die. Or her either.

Not by the will of some stupid son-of-a-bitch.

And so, with a roar of anger escaping her lips before she could stop herself, the blonde launched herself forwards, snatching the blade from her belt.

Charles quickly caught her movement, his eyes widening.

And neither Blake nor Negan could do anything as Charles suddenly swung the gun around, pointing it in her direction and pulled the trigger.

But Blake, on this occasion, was lucky.

Very lucky.

For today was not going to be the day she got shot for a second time in just a few short months. Nu-uh.

People screamed all around as several bullets peppered the bonnet of their truck, blowing out one of the headlamps.

But Blake just took this as her opportunity, her long legs closing the gap between her and Charles, her knife plunging into the soft meat of his right flank, just below his armpit, causing him to scream out in pain almost immediately.

But now it was Negan's turn.

And with the man before them momentarily distracted, the dark-haired Saviour grabbed Charles' gun with both hands, causing him to turn back around to face him in panic.

"Oh you'll learn my name, you spinless mother-fucker," Negan growled, as he headbutted Charles, sending him sprawling backwards.

He tripped over his own feet a couple of times and fell to the floor in a heap, now without his gun, clutching his bloodied side and whimpering.

Not one of the people standing around made a move to help him now.

Negan stood up straight, face like thunder as he checked the rounds still left inside the gun in his hands, before looking back up to Blake, who both looked and felt, almost unperturbed by the entire situation.

For she had faced bigger and badder people than Charles in her life. Her ex-fiance alone being one of them.

She felt stronger now.

More confident than she ever had been. And knew that was because of what Negan had built her up to be. What he had given her the chance to become.

"Wow, Peaches, I forgot how much of a goddamn badass you can be!" Negan exclaimed suddenly, turning on his heel to face her.

But Blake merely shrugged.

"You can thank me later for saving your ass," she teased, as Negan raised his eyebrows in interest.

His gaze seemed to rove over her in a protective manner, as if checking for any damage, or hurt inflicted on her, before he looked back up to her face, his chin dipped and his eyes sparkling.

"Well in that case, you want to do the honors, Doll?" Negan said suddenly, holding the gun out towards her.

But Blake took a step into him, before staring over at Charles coolly.

"Hmmmmm, I'm not sure," she uttered in a purring voice, with a wrinkle of her nose, turning back to Negan. "I think this is more a job for Lucille."

The dark-haired man before her was silent from a short moment, before that tell-tale grin suddenly flicked up onto his lips, his eyes flashing with glee.

"Oh, Darlin'," he eased out, pressing the gun into her hand for her to hold and leaning his entire form in towards her, his lips lingering close to her ear. "You have no idea how hard for you I am right now."

And Blake, in spite of the situation they found themselves in, found herself smirking as he pulled back from her, his dark eyes fixed to her green ones.

"Well you can always show me later," she said in a vixen-like tone, causing Negan to run his tongue across his lips for a brief moment, before turning away from her once more.

As Charles lay there whimpering , Blake stepped back, her green eyes glinting here and there, making sure none of the others tried anything. But in their defence, none of them moved, all of them just watching the scene before them unfold in silence. All obviously knowing full well what was about to happen and none of them doing a thing to stop it.

Negan paced over towards the cowering man, dragging a hand tiredly down his bearded face.

"Oh Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," Negan hummed out in a low voice that held the tension everyone was feeling, swinging Lucille from his gloved hand threateningly.

The man on the ground attempted now to drag his sorry form away from Negan's advancing one.

He looked a far cry from the bold and arrogant man threatening both of them just a few short moments ago.

But Blake knew of course that was the effect Negan had on people, even the most strong people often floored, both literally and metaphorically, by the man himself.

"Somehow I'm startin' to think that you ain't got that dick an' balls you were busy swingin' between your legs jus' now," sighed the dark-haired man in a voice full of goading. "Cause' you strollin' on out here like you were king of the fuckin' castle, pointin' a damn AK47 at us, well, I've gotta admit, I was lookin' forward to a good ol' fashioned, all-guns-a-blazin', fight."

Negan gave a grimace now, swinging Lucille haphazardly and pointing it towards Charles' skull.

"But Charlie," the Saviour sighed again, as Charles stared up at him fearfully, not saying a word now. "I am very fuckin' disappointed. See there ain't many people that have the fuckin' balls to stand up to me."

Negan shrugged, glancing over his shoulder back at Blake.

"I mean maybe Peaches here," he continued, turning back towards Charles once more. "But you see she's a fuckin' special exception."

Blake raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips, almost rolling her eyes at how predictable Negan was being right now. Not that she minded too much of course.

"But god-fuckin'-dammit do I miss the thrill of an asshole like you steppin' out of the damn ranks, strollin' on up, threatenin' me. But, shit, jus' like a guy in line for the bathroom after a bad truck-stop burrito…. if only you could've followed the. fuck. THROUGH!"

Negan's now-furious voice rang out loud and echoing through the clearing, sending a small group of birds that had been nesting in a nearby tree, fleeing into the air with a mass of screeching calls.

The sound reverberated for a second as Negan visibly seethed, his square shoulders raised, and his teeth now bared in a look of utter distaste at the man now squirming desperately on the ground before him.

Blake had to admit, she almost felt a little bad for the guy, probably just in too deep. Wanting to stand up and be strong for his people, wanting to help them. Just like any leader would.

And for a split second Blake had half a mind to step forwards and stop Negan from making his next move.

But what Charles did next, made her stop in her tracks suddenly…

"Please," cried the man on the ground in a sudden weak voice, peering up at Negan fearfully, his eyes now wide and his voice full of desperation. "P-Please. None of this should be on me. This wasn't my idea…."

He turned and pointed a shaking hand suddenly in the direction of Martha and the others.

"...it was theirs! P-Please...i-if you want to punish anyone, it should be them. They came up with this plan. Not me. It's them that's to blame for all this."

And suddenly Blake was taken back to a familiar voice who had spoken a set of eerily similar words, back in that dusty Sanctuary lot all those many, many months ago.

Back then the cowardly David had done just what Charles was doing now, trying to backtrack, trying to blame others for his own doing. Trying to get others hurt, to save his own skin.

Blake's blood boiled at this, her eyes becoming all of sudden black.

"You utter fucking asshole," she spat suddenly, marching forward on her long legs, shoving past Negan and pointing the barrel of the gun to Charles' skull.

The man before her whimpered, holding his hands aloft.

But Blake had had enough.

She looked up to Negan to at her side, her green eyes meeting with his.

"We done here?" she asked simply.

And Negan gave a knowing nod, grimacing and stepping easily back.

"Oh we sure are, Peaches," Negan murmured out, knowing exactly what Blake was about to do.

And the blonde, with eyes full of utter hatred for the man on the ground before her, merely uttered out a low "good" before firing the gun into the man's skull.

The kickback of the gun jolted her shoulder hard, as blood and viscera spurted out of the back of Charles skull tearing it easily apart.

The brown haired man seemed to flounder there for a moment with a vacant expression before collapsing onto his side. Dead.

Everything seemed to fall silent after that, as Blake gave a sniff, lowering the gun and turning to face Negan.

But the dark-haired Saviour was already staring back at her, his gaze a little questioning.

"Reminded me too much of someone I used to know," Blake explained, before pursing her lips.

And Negan immediately seemed to understand, blinking with recognition of just who she could have been talking about.

"Prick had it comin'," he growled. "Both pricks actually."

The blonde woman gave a small sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Negan leaned into her once more.

"Jus' wanna let you know though," he said in a meaningful voice. "Your ass looked fuckin' incredible when you were blowin' a hole through ol' Charlie-boy's dome back there."

Blake raise a single slender eyebrow upwards, leaning back on her hip and eyeing him.

"You only saying that because you still think you're gonna get that blow job?" she asked, tutting.

But Negan merely flashed her a grin.

"And am I?"

But Blake merely pursed her lips, smirking and turned away from him, leaving him without an answer.

She strolled easily over to Martha now, knowing Negan's eyes were following her as she went, her face becoming serious now as she stared into the eyes of the other woman.

Martha looked back at Blake nervously but held her gaze.

"How much supplies do you have?" the blonde asked in a gentle voice. Probably far more soft than Martha and the others probably expected after what had happened to Charles.

Martha glanced at the young guy at her side momentarily before turning back to Blake, here eyes flicking over to Negan over Blake's shoulder for a second as she did so.

"We have a little water, probably a couple of days worth, and some cans of food, but not much…" she started in a nervous sounding voice. "...that's why Charles...I-I….we're so sorry...we never meant for anything like this to-"

"Its fine," Blake said with a small shake of her head, her eyes earnest.

None of this, or what Charles had done, was these people's fault.

From this angle staring right at them all, even in the dim evening light Blake could see how gaunt and scrawny these people were, probably surviving off next to nothing for weeks on end.

Blake worried at her bottom lip with her teeth for a short second before she looked over her shoulder back at Negan who was pacing slowly over towards her, barbed wire-covered bat brought up onto his shoulder..

Her eyes met with his and she knew that he understood exactly what she was thinking.

That's why they made a good team. Why they always had been...

For Negan could read her like a book. And vice versa.

And the dark-haired Saviour made no move to argue with her now, merely coming to stop just a foot or two behind her, letting her do what she need to do,

Blake took a breath of air through her nose turning back around slowly, staring once again at Martha, parting her lips.

"How many are you?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Martha blinked rapidly as though she had not quite been expecting this question.

"I...uh...there's twelve of us here," she replied with a stammer. "Plus we have two young kids and their mom just behind that tree line over there."

Blake waited as Martha turned and nodded to a man just over her shoulder who yelled out one of the trio's names. Causing them to appear from the tree-line a little further up the road a second later, all clutching each other's hands and approaching the group.

Blake paused for a moment, looking from the group, to the space at the back of their large pick-up truck then back over to Negan, pursing her lips into a thin line.

"You think we can get them all back to the Sanctuary in that thing?" she asked in a tired voice.

And Negan, rocking back on his heels, pulled a face and surveyed the truck to his right.

"Well we can give it a good fuckin' try, Darlin'..." he mused, looking back at her, his lips curving up into an arrogant grin.

"...I mean, they don' call us the Saviours for nothin'."

Masterlist can be found on my profile page. 

[horrible-on-main]

The firefight is over.

The enemy are gone. He is confident of that -  he’d know if the crawling taint of their stained souls were still nearby. With no one left standing to oppose them, they’ve taken off in pursuit of their objectives, whatever those are.

[Cut for length and content: gore, death, murder, grief, panic attack, vomit, mental breakdown, self-loathing]

The soldiers are dead. One is very clearly so - the inside of their helmet is full of red ruin where face and skull should be. The other could almost be unharmed - dark cloth sops up the blood. But their flesh is dull and inert and empty. The soul has fled the flesh, into the waiting maws of the circling predators.

But the Interrogator is not dead.

068 unfolds himself from his hiding space beneath the groundcar and creeps across to her side.

There’s a lot of blood. His breath hitches and catches and will not settle to a steady rhythm. Her head lolls sideways at an uncomfortable angle and the side of her helmet is cracked and crumpled from impact.

“I-Int-terrogator?” 

She can’t die, she can’t. How will he get home without her? There won’t be a home without her. What will become of him without her protection?

“Interrog-gator?”

He touches her arm gently, then snatches his hand back. She doesn’t grab his wrist. She doesn’t so much as stir.

“Interrogator, w-wake up...!”

He puts both hands on her shoulder gingerly and nudges. When that has no effect he is brave enough to shake her.

She is completely floppy. Expression neutral. Eyes half open and unseeing. She looks so vulnerable and it is wrong wrong wrong.

If she isn’t in control, who is?

“Please, Interrogator, please-! Wake up, y-you’re hurt, w-wake up!” Almost yelling now. The fear of attracting attention is being overwhelmed by the fear of losing her, of losing the anchor of authority she provides, the life he has that she allows. She is everything to him.

He starts crying, noisy, panicky sobs as he shakes her arm. Still nothing.

He sits back on his heels and puts his hands over his face and tells himself Focus! Head in the game! This isn’t working, he needs to do something else.

She needs help, he needs to get help for her. He could take a microbead off one of the soldiers and call for help. (Not the one whose head is mulched, he does not want to dig inside that helmet with his hands.) He can get her off the street and call for help and someone will come and make this right.

Or... he could not.

The thought sends chills and shudders through him.

Where did that come from? That is not the sort of thought he thinks. For a moment he thinks that it might be an outside influence, a whisper of the Warp. But his mind lingers on it and it is compelling.

He is alone here. No one would see, or stop him. He could just... leave.

He could walk away from everything and it is terrifying. No more cell. No more safe, tedious, repetitive days. No more threat of torture for slipping up or having a crazy day. No more regular meals. No more shackles. No more being left in the hands of agents who treat him like a punching bag, or a wind-up toy. No more of her hands on his head, his face, his hands, his scars.

Tears are flowing freely now, so fast that they are barely individual droplets and more just hot streams down his cheeks.

He doesn’t want that.

Does he?

Her gun is right there.

He isn’t allowed weapons, strictly, but he picks the laspistol up anyway.

He might need to defend himself. And she’s helpless, he might need to defend her. Someone could stumble across them at any moment. He should make them both less vulnerable, while he decides what to do next.

But he knows that isn’t why he picked up the gun.

If she dies, probably no one will come looking for him. He is a very small and insignificant loose end. If she dies, there will be chaos. No one will come looking.

He points the laspistol at her face.

And she opens her eyes and sees him and her face contorts with anger and he is so sorry, so, so sorry he doesn’t know what he was thinking and she is furious and he can feel the pain already she is going to make him hurt so so much for even daring to think--!

The gun falls from nerveless fingers and clatters on the ground. He falls backwards and curls on the floor shaking and whining and cowering, trying to hide his face in his arms. His breath is short and shallow and he can’t get enough air.

And.

Nothing happens.

He gets his breathing back in hand.

He uncurls, trembling.

She is still out cold on the floor. Still vulnerable, helpless.

Still needing him to get help for her. Still unable to stop him doing... doing... doing whatever he pleases.

He is so shaky, broken, a mess of impulses and thoughts and hallucinations. He can’t make it on his own, what was he thinking? He needs someone to control him and guide him because he is a shattered thing. He can’t cope without her.

He picks up the laspistol again. It takes both hands to keep it from jittering all over the place. Is it just his hands, or is the pistol jumping in his grip? Is the gun loyal to her? Does it resent him for what he almost did? Or does it just want to kill and kill and kill? Does it not matter from whence- NO. No, no, no, no, bad thoughts, scrub that, do not, stupid filthy heretic don’t think such things. Head in the game. Pay attention. Focus!

He looks at her on the floor and whimpers.

“Please wake up, Interrogator,” he whines again. He is breaking and he needs her to take command or he might do something terrible.

He tugs her helmet off her and oh gods there’s more blood, what if he’s killed her by doing that, what if the helmet was all that was holding her skull together, no no no no.

His hands are on her face, tapping the skin - almost slapping - and jolting her head and shaking her and he is still crying “Interrogator, Interrog-gator wake up, wake up!”

There’s no response.

She can’t hear him, can’t see him, can’t respond to his choices, can’t police his words and thoughts.

He’s alone.

Like cold water down his spine, he remembers that he hates her.

She broke him. She reduced him to this. And not just him. She hurts people, on and on and on until they stop being people. He can still hear the screams.

She deserves to die. Especially at his hands. There’s a dramatic irony to it that the audience beyond the Veil would appreciate.

He tries to lift the gun and point it at her again. His hands shake and he can’t do it, he can’t. It’s too frightening.

“Please wake up....”

It’s one of those break points. He can See the fate swirling around him, the mild, cruel interest of distant puppetmasters. This is a place where the strands of time split.

He ought to put the gun back in its holster on her hip. He ought to get a microbead, and drag her into shelter, out of the street, and call for help and keep trying until either she wakes up or someone else comes to take charge of the situation.

He ought to.

Or he could go free.

He thinks of Scythia as he shuffles closer on his knees. Scythia who wanted freedom, not just for himself but for everyone. Scythia who hated the Imperium not for its wealth or its glory or for wrongs perpetrated against him but for it’s tyranny. Scythia who knew him when he still thought that what she’d done to them was wrong.

He puts the muzzle against the side of her head, sobbing.

Eyes closed, more than closed, screwed tight shut. Face turned away.

Now or never.

Do it now or forever lose his nerve.

He can’t he can’t he can’t--

He does.

He’s not even sure if he means to pull the trigger or if its just the nervous spasming of his fingers.

The gun cracks and hot wet spray mists his hands and he opens his eyes and a low, broken sound of horror escapes his throat.

Suddenly he is is scrambling backwards away from her body - her corpse - and his voice is rising without his consent in a wail of grief and denial and no this isn’t what he wanted he didn’t mean he didn’t mean he didn’t--

He can’t make out what becomes of her soul, which is a mercy.

Her head is a mess and he did this and he has to turn and empty his stomach onto the rockrete and no no no this is nightmare this has to be nightmare he wouldn’t he didn’t he wouldn’t he wants to wake up wake up wake up--

How could he?

She saved him.

She was everything.

He throws up again.

He has to get away, away from the corpse, away from what he did but he can’t get away from what he did he will never get away from what he did.

He staggers to his feet and flees, stumbling like he is dead drunk or empty of blood or sleep-walking. The world is spinning and his vision is dark and all he can hear is her, her praising him, her mocking him, her telling him to be calm, praising him and the sound the gun made as it killed her as he killed her.

Now he really is a monster.

Now he is alone.

He doesn’t make it far before his legs give out and he is on his hands and knees and he can’t breathe for sobbing.

He crawls, seeking darkness, seeking somewhere enclosed that he can hide. The best he can find is a corner and he curls up in that corner with his face pressed into the wall and grief tears through him and he sobs and wails.

Why? he asks himself helplessly over and over. Why? Why why why no no no it can’t be real, she can’t be gone she can’t she can’t.

He’s free.

He doesn’t know how to be free. Doesn’t want to be free.

She’s gone.

She won’t hurt him any more.

And he shudders and weeps and keens in mourning and guilt and terror.

She’s gone.

He’s all alone.

He’s free.

It might be the worst thing that has ever happened to him.