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lillaxtrigger · 1 year

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Street Smarts: Chapter 16

A worrying groan can’t help but seep out from underneath the time manipulating mob boss’ breath as he looks opposite to his brother sitting on the other side of the table; his eyes peering to the countless other people sitting around them. “Hmm...Cen. I’m not rather comfortable with all this.” he informs his space bending brother. “Bro, relax. Ain’t nobody here know who we are. We’re fine.” “The people here are not my concern. More rather I’m questioning why you insisted on meeting…” Among the people that surround them do they enjoy the freshly prepared ham sandwiches and drinks served to them by the fast food restaurant establishment they sit within; the spacial psychic himself enjoying a fresh delicious steak sandwich, while his time bending brother snacks on a light salad. “In an Arby’s. Rather pedestrian, don’t you suppose?” “Quit being such a prude, man. Wouldn’t kill you to take some time to enjoy the small things, would it?” “A schedule like mine ensures just that, making room for affairs and meetings, arranging where our sellers are stationed, not to mention keeping up with supply and demands; all in the pursuit of our monetary goal.” “All the more why I think taking a break every now and then is all the more deserving. You keep the gears in that head of yours wound to tight and you’ll break down.” “Hmm.” utters Tury as he takes a piece of lettuce out from his salad.

Guiding the fresh green vegetable into his mouth, the time manipulating mob boss takes the time to enjoy the moist flavor the lettuce offers him; swallowing a piece the piece of healthy meal before continuing: “Still, a briefing over the scions wouldn’t hurt. How did everything go after my departure?” “Well...after the stone shot out that little spark from its crack on those three, it wasn’t long before they passed out and caught themselves some fevers. Thought it wasn’t smart to just leave them there; so I just figured why not kill two birds with one stone and haul it and them over to Dr. December.” “That might be for the best, honestly. From what information August had gathered the day we seized the Church; that priest running their syndicate held a power and influence over the aspect of positive emotions the likes of which we had never seen before. Even being able to turn the faith the people held in him into physical form. Not to mention how Wedsle had been bestowed with a similar dose of the stone’s psychic power; a shame he had decided to defect before we could get a full example of his newfound potential. Perhaps keeping them under the doctors watchful eye will give us far more detailed results. So that when all does well for them, we can be confident when it comes to our turn to evolve our own abilities.”

“Ooh...Can’t wait to get a dose of that good juice. Betting the kind of stuff I could do would blow even my mind.” gleefully wonders Cen, before taking another bite of his steak sandwich. “Let’s not jump into this so zealously, we would have to be cautious over our power’s metamorphosis. From what you described, the scions could barely even move, much less fight back during the initial symptoms. We would need to prepare somewhere to stay while we undergo the process. If someone so under us like Wedsle felt confident enough to try and stab us in the back, I’m worried what the scion’s could do after their powers finish evolving and we’re left vulnerable.” “You got someplace in mind?” “Not at the moment. Finding somewhere secluded and out from the public eye in this city is...harder then I anticipated.” “Think you got the wrong idea on that, bro. People aiming for our necks while were out of it, those are the first places they’re gonna check. You gotta play it smarter than that.” “Then what might you suggest?” “Probably the last place they would expect. Someplace where people constantly frequent and just in public.” “Hiding in plain site? It’s risky. But it just might work.”

Before taking another bite out of his salad, a mighty need besieges the mob boss’s lower intestine; one that makes him put down his fork and tell his brother that: “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything while I’m gone.” “Bro, just go piss. What makes you think I’m gonna-” the space bending mob boss jest, his joking attitude dissolving when receiving the worst glare from his time bending brother. “R-right.” With that does Tury get up from his seat to make his way over to the restroom; his spacial bro scoffing off his warning as he’s about to take another bite of his steak sandwich. Phffft. Just a piss break, man. The hell he’s thinking I’m gonna do in the next 5 min-

Piercing through his train of thought like a runaway car mowing through a china shop, an ear piercing cry invades the spacial psychic’s very ears; this horrible noise making his fingers dig into his meal. Glancing back to the booth behind him does Cen then pinpoint the origin of this grating outcry, the shrieks coming from a rowdy and disruptive toddler sitting alongside her parents; every shrieks, every scream, every noise the young little girl made was an assault on the ear drums. Even worse was the girl’s parents, those two motherfuckers were just simply tuning out her constant yelling as they just sit there and eat; not even bothering to quell their kids agonizing and repetitive shrieks that tax at the mind like a pick axe against solid stone. Its fucking bullshit! God dammit! Make your fucking little sperm stain stop screaming already!

Watching the couple simply continue to ignore their screaming little toddler, it was clear that they were not even gonna bother stop her anytime soon; simply complacent in letting the monster keep shouting and yelling for who know’s how long. So to this does the spacial psychic decide to make the little brat shut her mouth himself; his starry night aura seeping out from his body and lunging into the young girl. Slowly but surely, the little toddlers rambunctious outcry start to shrink in tone, her breath drawn out from her over excessive screams; but when attempting to bring air back into her lungs, the much needed breaths of fresh air fail to come.

Fear and panic are quick to set in her young mind as her neck tighten and her face beginning to change color; try as she might to scream out for help, not even a peep can break free from her throat as her parents simply tune her out like they’ve been doing so, not even paying an ounce off attention that their child was suffocating. The toddler clutches at her neck to hope and stop whatever may be strangling her in a desperate plea for air, yet is left more panicked and confused when seeing nothing enveloped around her throat. She feels bizarrely terrified when realizing that nothing was choking her, but rather feels her own neck thinning out, her windpipe turning more slender with every passing moment. Was this it, was her short life destined to be snuffed out by this unforeseen nightmare?

But just when unconsciousness was moments away from taking her; a wayward hand suddenly strikes against the back of the spacial psychic’s head to make him lose focus; her neck swiftly returning to normal so she may breathe once more. The initial anger Cen feels from being struck from behind like this instantly fades when turning back and discovering that backhand belonging to Tury; the timely businessman fixating his dagger eyes staring upon his own brother. Constant coughing and hacking escape from the little girl after regaining her breath; this being enough to finally gain the attention of her parents, who drop their food at the drop of a hat to tend to their child. Discarding their meals, the two of them carrying the little girl off to take care of her right outside.

“Bro...what-” Cen mumbles. “Are you trying to give us away?” he then hears Tury growl into his ear. “Sorry. It was just that kid was being so loud and-” “You should have just went outside. I’ve told you over and over again not to do stuff like this, or it’ll blow our cover. Do you even care about reaching to a billion?” “I do! I do!” “Then stop making this difficult.” “R-right…” the space bending brother meekly responds.

A soft sigh can’t help but escape from the timely mob boss’ mouth when looking upon his brother, shaking his head before he explains how: “Cen, you know I don’t mean to be this harsh on you unless its serious.” “I know.” “So I hope you understand that I am like this with you because I want you to succeed along with me.” “Yeah.” “...So...Where exactly you propose we hide when undergoing our...evolution?” Tury then brings the subject back to. “Okay, so… Your not gonna believe this, but trust me. This’ll be the last place they expect to look.”

The evening cold begins to settle upon the lower end of the city as the chilling air nestles within a lower income neighborhood, its homes and abode proving more on the shoddy side in reflecting the poor situation most of their tenants are trapped in. But somewhere within this hood sits a lone manhole in the middle of a road left holding very few cars rolling through its concrete; the lid rumbling about as something underneath constantly beats against its steel. After taking enough punishment does the metal cover come flying off the road and come plummeting back down onto the sidewalk with a loud clang; several dents left behind on its face by the violet psychic that starts to crawl out from the depths of the sewer. “Phweeh! Finally, fresh air at last.” Wedsle celebrates in his climb out from the manhole. “About time. The smell of piss was starting to burn through my nose.” Satette follows out with. “Least its better than mold ridden fruit.” Tuesco pops out mentioning. “Not that I’m not glad to be out of there too. But what I like to know is where exactly did you end up leading us to, Wedsle? Cause this part of town seems a little hoaky.” questions Thursotte as he’s emerges out from the depths. “Yeah, cause if you just led us through a stank ass sewers for two hours over nothing but shits and giggles; I swear I’m gonna-” Frida remarks, the last of the crew to surface.

“Easy there, gang. I know it’s been a real doozy, but trust when I say we’re exactly where we need to be. A real special spot where those mob fuckers’ll last think to look.” “And what makes you so sure of that?” Sat wonders. “Cause a while back Monty let me in on a good hideout I could use while hiding away from unwanted eyes. Said he used to use it as his personal safe house of sorts, or whenever he and Harley wanted to get up to some fun midnight shenanigans, if you catch my drift.” “Eww.” utters Thurs in disgust. “Point is, it’ll be our base of operations as we work to dismantle the bosses and take their throne right out from under their shit eating grins.” “So why the hell I haven’t heard about this?” Frida demands to know. “Monty had a ton of stuff and secrets he took with him to the grave. He only told me about this last year, I haven’t even seen what it looks like yet.” “You haven’t even been there!?” “Nah, most I got out of him was where it was at. Which should be the first house we see right around this... corner?”

But when making their way around the street corner, Wedsles overwhelming confidence shatters instantly when peering towards the end of the street; all of their eyes laying upon the remains of what was once a small home destroyed beyond recognition. “Oh wow, your right. The perfect place to keep the mob off our ass.” the dimensional psychic sarcastically jests. “What the fuck!?” exclaims Weds, making an urgent dash towards the decrepit home.

Hollowed out and empty, there only stands some doorways and a couple of closed doors surrounded by the wreckage and rubble; no walls, no roof, almost nothing was left to shield the inside from the harsh elements of the outdoors. The purple psychic nonetheless frantically rummages through the rubble and garbage left behind as the rest of his crew catch up to him; the lively psychic among them asking: “So, you sure this is the right place or-” “It’s gotta be! It’s the exact address and everything. I...Search around; there has to be some sort of secret entrance or something.” Upon the purple psychic’s order do the crew turn their efforts to finding any sign of a trap door or secret way into this supposed compound Monty had told Wedsle of; each of them splitting off into different slices of the abode.

Taking to the bathroom, Frida uses her dimensional powers to slip into the long abandoned piping for anything that would hint to there being some unforeseen room; yet quickly comes back up when finding nothing of note worth mentioning. Along the kitchen, Satette knocks over the worn down and broken appliances left behind for what may lay underneath them; though she only discovers nothing but a bunch of moles underneath and digging their way down into the soft soil. Thursotte lends his support when inspecting the backyard behind the home, though finding next to nothing of worth among the stretch of land beside a few withered and dead tree’s among the overgrown grass.

Gathering around what stood as likely the living room of the home, all of them report back to the violet psychic to claim how: “I found nothing.” “Me neither.” “Nada.” “Nope.” “This ain’t making any god damn sense!” barks Wedsle. “Monty talked this place up like it was some kind of safe haven. Said nobody in their right mind would think of checking this place.” “Seems he didn’t pay much mind bothering to tell you everything else.” Thurs mentions. “That, or he was just playing an elaborate joke on you case you wound up getting too nosy.” Sat suggests. “Was...he really just screwing with me?...No...No!”

Among their argumentative disbelief does Tuesco’s attention drift away from the rest of the crew and over towards a lone standing door held in between what likely was the bedroom and the hallway. Catching a little glimmering glow, the former officer strolls on over a couple of knocked over walls to find this light coming from underneath the door; a strange phenomenon indeed as he glance to the broken wall beside the door to see nothing that would give this glow. Though left somewhat cautious over these bizarre happenings, Tuesco approaches the face of the door and clutches the knob; the light on the other side of the door flooding through the dusk as pushes it open.

This overflowing glow catches the rest of the crew’s attention and has them drawn over towards the very same door that their new crew mate had open; Tuesco and the other’s looking in awe past the light to discover the other side of the door holding a whole new room. “Where the hell did…” Frida utters, shifting her sites between the room on the other side of the door and the room on the other side of the wall. When sticking her head out around the door where the walls once stood, the dimensional psychic is left with only more questions than answers as she finds the other side left baron and empty; the door on the other side of the wall remaining closed as the door on their side is left open. “The hell is happening?” “Looks like Tuesco found the answer to our perplexing question. Nice going man.” Sat praises. “Thanks?” “Now the real question is what exactly the answer is.” ponders the purple psychic. The crew wince their eyes to the disrupting glow as they make their way through the mysterious doorway; the last of the dark evening outside vanishing as the last of them shuts the door on the way in.

When their vision fully adjust to the welcoming light, all of them can finally behold the very room that they stand within, finding themselves within the confines of a small furnished lobby adorned with copper decorations to compliment the bronze lined tables and chairs placed across the sides. Along these walls stood well polished mahogany doors with bronze knobs and metal decorative lines that come together to make the shape of a literal face. “Ooh, I am not liking this.” Tuesco mention. “I’m with the fresh meat here. Something about this feels extremely uncanny” adds Frida. “Come on guys. So its a little iffy. Place like this should be perfect for keeping those mob bastards off our asses while we plan our next move. Beside, I ain’t seeing you all come up with any better ideas?” “Wedsle might be right here. We don’t really have that many options when it comes to hideouts here. So it might be best not to look this gift steer in the mouth.” Thursotte chimes in with. “That’s a gift horse in the mouth.” the dimensional psychic correct. “Who’s gifting a horse?” he responds as he strolls over towards one of the bronze lined chairs.

Before the young man could plonk his ass down onto the chairs comfortable looking cushion, Thurs freezes up in the midst of crouching down when hearing Satette demanding for him to: “Don’t sit on that!” “Woah, what!? Why!?” “Just look at the engravings along the seat rim.” Backing away from the cushioned chair, they all pay close attention to the specially carved rim of the seat; the bronze rim welded in a zig zag sort of fashion that nearly resembled a row of teeth. “The rims of the seat both have the exact same sort of pattern.” “There somewhere you’re going with this or you just having a schizophrenia moment?” Weds wonders. In response to the purple psychic’s bit of sass, Satette delves her hand into one of his pockets and quickly pulls out a small bag holding the design of a flowery mountainside; the sound of jingling could be heard as she shakes the little pouch around. A little snicker escapes from Frida as she points to the little bag and asks: “That supposed to be a purse?” “Its a coin pouch! Fuck off!”

The hefty little bag full of coins in her grasp, the lively psychic tosses the pouch towards the very seat Thursotte was moments away from resting on; all the coins held within giving it enough weight to sink into the cushions. And right on the moment that does the chair break apart as the rims that make up its seat swiftly clamp together with a resounding clank; what remained of the seat resembling a pair of bronze teeth having chomped down on the soft cushion. “Agh!” Thursotte yelps, sharing with the rest of the crew’s shock. “I knew it. This place is booby trapped.” Satette concludes. “Okay, yeah. Maybe we should bail.”the violet psychic admits. “Way ahead of you.” claims Tuesco as he bolts for the door they came in on.

Quickly coming to the door, the former officer swiftly attempts to swing the entrance open in hopes of making their escape. yet finds its knob refusing to turn; no matter how much force he puts into turning the bronze handle, it fails to move even an inch away. “You gotta be kidding! Why’s it suddenly locked!?” Amidst the man’s growing panic, Frida pulls him aside from the door and suggest to: “Let me try.” But rather then attempt to turn the knob much like he did, the dimensional psychic instead coats herself in her sky blue aura as she thrusts herself towards the mahogany doors face. Yet instead of merging into the door’s surface like she thought, she instead slams against its face not even a single molecule of her body could so much as slip into its 2nd dimension; the others watching her falls to the floor as Thursotte asks: “Frida, are you okay? “What the fuck is happening? Why ain’t I phasing into this door! Even with all this crappy copper on the face, I should merge into it no problem...Unless…” Turning back towards the others, the sudden dread in her eyes was plain for the rest of the crew to see; all of them soon sharing in that same feeling when hearing her make the realization that: “Guys. Even if we avoid the traps in here, we’ve already fallen for the worst one of them all. This room, maybe even this whole place, it didn’t just come from nowhere. Its a psychic construct!”

“So were just trapped in here with no way out!?” Tuesco starts to panic with. “If this place was made by a psychic, then they gotta know we’re in here. Why else would the door we came into inexplicably lock?” Thursotte evaluates. “So whoever is behind this mess is also our key out of it?” Frida questions “Seems like it. What say we spread out to punch this dicks teeth in till he lets us out?” suggests Satette. “Doesn’t sound like the best strat in this case. Since our guy here has a stranglehold over this place, it’d be easier to pick us off if we split. In any case, we’d be better off staying together.” “Good call, Frids.” Everyone huddle together and watch each others asses. Who know’s what else this dick has in store for us.”

Though before the psychic crew could make any other plans upon these discoveries, the ground under their feet starts to shuffle about; all of them struggling to keep their footing as the whole room starts to swiftly tilt off towards the side. “The whole room’s shifting!” Thurs states. As the furnished room starts to spin off down towards one of the walls, Satette is the first of them to act fast and lunge over towards the top most door; clutching tight onto the knob as she reaches her hand out for the others. “Grab on!” The closest to the lively psychic, Frida is the first to take Sat’s hand and hold on while the room veers towards the side; the boys left struggling to reach as the best Tuesco can do is clutch onto the bottom of Frida’s jeans, struggling to hold on as both Weds and Thurs latch onto his legs. The door underneath them swings open to presents on the other side nothing but a pit of darkness waiting for them. Try as the newcomer might to hold onto the end of the dimensional psychic’s pants, his grip unfortunately slips away as he and the other boys plummet down through the room and down through the door. “No!” cries both of them as the three cast into the darkness on the other side, the door swiftly slamming shut. Before the girls could drop down towards the very door the guys had plummeted into, the whole room starts to shift towards the ceiling; Satette’s grip on the doorknob slipping as both of them drop down to the lobby’s ceiling.

From their tumbling descent Frida the first to rise, the gun woman shaking off her vertigo as she curses: “Dammit! Helluva ride to be put on.” “No no no no no no no!’ Satette utters as she climbs up towards the door the other’s fell into. Twisting the knob and opening the door, she left baffled when discover the infinite void they fell into replaced with yet another room; this one right side up and filled with a couch and flat screen mounted on the wall. Before she could hop into this newfound room, she stops from moving another muscle when the dimensional psychic behind her tells her to: “Sat, girl, calm down.” “But...the guys-” “Will be fine. Long as they’re smart enough to keep together, they can handle whatever is thrown at them.” “But Tuesco. I only taught him the bare basic’s so far. He barely know’s a thing about defending himself from this kind of psychic stuff.” “If Weds and Thursotte are with him, then he’s got nothing to worry about. Long as we play it just as smart, pretty sure all of us’ll breakout of this in one piece.” Frida assures, climbing up to the young woman. “...Right.” Sat responds; the two woman climb out from the entrance lobby together.

Among plummeting through the darkness, the scream from the three guys are all that echoes across the infinite black void that surrounds them; none of them finding a hint of light among the recesses of the void as they descend. Though just when it seemed like they were doomed to a never ending fall into the abyss, they suddenly feel their body’s slam against the tile floor; the shadows surrounding them reseeding as the wall lamps around where they landed come alight. Pushing themselves off of one another from the ground and gaze through to find themselves having landed within what seemed like a clean and well kept kitchen; the marble counter space glistening against the light fixtures.

Cracking his back after such an unexpected crash, Wedsle turn over towards the two others who got swept along for the ride with him and states: “Alright, a little bit of a set back. But if this dandy dick thinks he’s gonna have an easy time slipping into us; we’ll show him how tight we can make things.” “You even know which way this guy might be?” Thurs asks him.

“All this stuff happening and I haven’t even had a bite to eat yet. Wonder if they got any grub stashed in here?” the former officer wonders, strolling towards the door. “Yeah, I- Wait no!” Wedsle exclaims as he see’s Tuesco clutching hold of the fridge’s handle. When upon cracking the ice box door wide open, the former cop is left astonished to discover several firearms stuffed within its icy tomb; a web of string attached to the door pulling onto the numerous guns triggers. Right when the entire arsenal was about to unleash its payload upon the hungry intruder, Thursotte tackles him right out from harms way just as the bullet come flying out from within; the shower of led firing into the other side of the kitchen. “Holy shit!” Tuesco yells. “You okay?” Thurs asks him. “Think so. Thanks for that.” “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t give him that!” Wedsle then jeers “What’s your problem?” Tuesco barks back. “My prob- What the hell is wrong with you! You just ignore the fact that Thurs almost got his ass chomped down by a trap!?” “Well, sorry. Lets see you spend a whole month trapped somewhere with nothing to eat but pomegranates and see how well you can resist cracking open every fridge you come across.”

“I...fuck it. Let’s just go.” the purple psychic suggest, going over towards a door along the end. “Fine by me.” Tuesco says, heading towards the door on the other side. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. The hell you think your going, man?” “I’m going to find a way back to the others.” “Think we’d do that better if we track down whoever’s behind this shuffle room showcase first.” “Forget it. Rather get myself lost then take orders from some reckless purple punk.” “Oh, no way! You seriously doing this whole high horse cop routine now?” “What better time then any, seeing how it was your little stunt that got us trapped in here in the first place.” “Like you can do any better on this sort of shit than us. Probably wind up as another corpse to clean up.” Weds taunts as the former officer starts to head out towards the door. “Whoa, whoa. Tues, hang on.” Thursotte urges as he tries to catch him. “What, your bailing out on me too?” the purple psychic wonders. “Just give me a minute.” he asks of him as he follows after.

Catching the door Tuesco came out from just before it closed, Thursotte keeps his hand on the door handle as he stops the former officer with: “Hey, Tuesco, wait up.” “What, you come here to talk garbage on me too?” “No, I-I just wanted to tell you that...I know what its like to have your whole livelihood ruined right out from under you over something out of your control.” “What the hell sort of gruff you got that can give mine a run for its money?” “More than you’d think. Um...You ever heard of the scandel about a successful startup company that wound up laundering a lot of money?” “I think so, what about it?”

Patiently standing in the middle of the kitchen, Wedsle eventually see the door Tues and Thurs went through open once more; both of them emerging out from the other side; the purple psychic ask: “So, you ready to play nice now?” “Don’t sass me, kid. I ain’t here as part of your click. Only til I get the chance to make my way outta this city am I gonna go along with this.” the former cop claims. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“So, are we all good? Then I suggest our first priority is figuring out how our host here is controlling these rooms.” “Thurs is right; the quicker we know that, the better chance we got in fighting this guy.” the purple psychic agrees with. “And how you figure we do that?” Tuesco questions. “Usually kicking the guy’s shit in would do just fine. But it seems tracking the down’s gonna be the hard part. Don’t even know if he’s in her with us.” Weds summarizes. “I think them being here’s a pretty safe bet.” “What makes you say that?” “Checking out the counter over there will give you the answer.” Thurs claims, pointing over towards one of the kitchen’s counters; its marble surface glistening against the lights above. “What about it?” “You notice the way its surface shines, the way its reflects the soft glow of the lights in here?” “The hell you even getting at, man?” “Don’t you find it rather strange how clean it looks? It’s practically spotless; almost like it was wiped down recently.” “So, your saying if the counter had just been scrubbed down, then our perp…” Wedsle starts to get. “Has to still be home. No doubt watching out every move.” “How does that make any sense?” doubts Tuesco. “It makes total sense if you think about what all happened. The door inexplicably locking behind us, the room tilting around. How else could they do all that stuff if they didn’t know we were here?” Thursotte reviews. “So if they know we’re all in here, then its a safe bet to say they’re spying on us as we speak.”

In the midst of their evaluation does the room around them start to violently tremble beneath their feet; the three of them falling onto the cabinet as the whole room tilts off to the side. While Thurs and Weds manage to land on their feet without much problem, Tuesco on the other hand winds up fumbling onto his side as the room veers onto its wall. “You alright?” the young man asks him in concern. “How often do you people have to deal with this crazy crap!?” “Alot.” “Better get used to it.” Weds smirks.

Their troubles were far from over however, as their attention is drawn overhead when witness the cabinets on the other side be flung wide open; sets of plates, glasses, cups, and other dinnerware come raining down towards them. Just when the torrential downpour of glass and porcelain was moments away from pelting them, a wall of cerulean swiftly runs across their heads to vacuum in the air around them; this gathered air forming into a solid, transparent wall that shields them all from the raining barrage of kitchen ware. “Nice save.” Thurs complements the former officer. “Thanks. I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

Before the trio could get too comfortable, the oven beside them suddenly opens to let loose an eruption of flames; all of them backing away from the raging fires as they encroach upon the very counter they stand on. “Agh! How long has that been on?” Thurs screams. “Who cares? Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Wedsle states, Thursotte making a mad dash towards the door. Though when trying his luck for one of the doors out from the kitchen, the knob refuses to budge an inch for him, no matter how much he twists and turns; the psychic of Murphy’s law realizing that: “We’re locked in!” “How inconvenient! Guess whoever in charge of this place listened in and doesn’t want us getting too comfortable. Some shitty host they’re turning out to be.” the purple psychic jests. “Quit screwing around! We need to get out of here!” the former cop beside him yells. “Calm down, man. Pretty sure we can make out of this before-Wow that fire is growing fast.” A glance back towards the roaring flames proves the purple psychic’s observation to be true; the fire erupting out from the oven growing more fierce with every passing moment, spreading more and more of its blazing fury through the kitchen.

Cracking open another of this strange abodes many doors, Satette and Frida wince their eyes as the enter into the polished white confines of a bathroom; the two woman left taken aback by the washroom’s unexpected size. “Holy shit.” Frida awe. “Yeah, wow. I mean look at this.” They behold the widened bathroom within equipped with a full body mirror, a set of three sinks, a couple of toilet stalls, and a row of sliding glass showers. The sink and showers hold matching cleaning products aplenty, all more than one person would need to freshen themselves up for whatever occasion they prepare for. “This place is decked out. Soap and conditioner here’s more expensive then what I used to make. Fucking premium stuff here.” the dimensional psychic claims. “Seriously big enough in here to host a whole hygienic meeting. Feels more like a public bathroom than a private one.” Satette points out, beginning to wander off. “Hang on.” Frida stops her with. “Gotta have something to keep the door open, case we need to make a quick bail.” “Good idea. Ummm.” Taking a quick look beside said door, Sat finds a batching cleaning equipment held along the wall by some screwed in hooks; the lively psychic swiping a mop off the wall and jamming it in between the doorway. “Eh, that’ll work.”

The full body mirror being the first part of the bathroom she inspects, Frida takes a moment to admire her reflection; closely looking to the scars held along her face and arms from her past fights. Huh, don’t look half bad for someone whose been through hell and a half. Actually wear some of these pretty damn good. In the middle of looking at herself, her eyes catch something odd in between the set of mirrors: a handle, no doubt to reveal what lies behind the reflection. Though curious enough to try her luck in opening up what may be within, Frida is cautious enough to stand on one end of the mirror as she takes hold of the handle on the other side; slowly moving the mirror aside to let whatever trap set within spring out. But when seeing next to nothing emerge out from the other side of the mirror, the dimensional psychic slowly peers inside, only to discover there be no trap held within. Rather alined alone several shelves be dozens of different kinds of medication and first aid; ranging from simple headache pills and bandaids, all the way over to chromosome medication and a portable defibrillator. Whoa, got a whole pharmacy packed in here.

Venturing into one of the bathroom’s stalls, Satette brings her attention to the accompanying toilet held within; its prestige and well polished porcelain lending the lively psychic back her own reflection. Rather than a handle of sorts, the seat holds nothing but a simple button on the side; no doubt to flush after taking care of business. Lifting the lid is she further impressed with the plush ring around the seat; its silky smooth texture having her imagine it like sitting on top of the fluffiest cloud. Damn, half the bowls I wind up using don’t look nowhere near this nice. Wonder if its as comfy to sit in as it looks.

Tempted to test drive this pristine oval office herself, Satette turns back as she starts to lift up her dress; Frida catching her before she could sit her nearly nude ass down with: “Hang on!” “Easy, Frids. Just use one of the others.” “That ain’t it. Ju-just move aside.” Doing as the dimensional psychic orders, Satette retreats from the porcelain throne and steps aside from the stall, watching as Frida takes the defibrillator on from the medicine shelf and tossing over to the toilet; the weighty medical tool sinking into the seat ring’s soft plush. As soon as the defibrillator fully sinks into the ring seat, countless sharp spikes come springing out from the bowl and skewer the electrical device; a close call which makes the lively psychic jump back and exclaim: “They booby trapped the toilets!? That’s just evil!”

Just when reeling from that debacle, both woman jump when the door to the bathroom swiftly shuts tight, the door snapping the mop Satette used to pry it open in two. The lively psychic rushes over to the door and pulls on the knob for any chance of escape; the only way out proving locked tight as it refuses to budge even an inch. “Shit, we’re locked in!” “That ain’t the end of our worries. Look!” Frida then warns as she points over to the line of showers. Beyond the showers sliding glass doors do their respective heads come slithering out to aim themselves towards the two woman; their nozzles spraying out forceful blasts of water that careen across the bathroom as fast as a cannonball, one of which hits Sat in the face hard enough to knock her to the floor. “Sat!”

Frida acts fast and drags both her and the hit young woman to the cover the restroom stalls provide; the thick hard plastic manages to hold against the barrage of water shots the horde of shower heads fire against them. “God, almost gave me a black eye there.” Satette claims, rubbing the part of her face she had gotten hit from. “We’re gonna get stuck with way worse shit unless we do something.” the dimensional psychic mentions. “Our best chance getting out is breaking down that door. You gotta have something in that jacket of yours turn it into wood chips.” “Afraid not. I ain’t got that sort of ammo to burn.” “Wait, you said you had a rocket launcher, right? What about an explosive or something?” “While we’re this close!? You out of your damn mind!?” “Right…”

Just when attempting to figure out a way out from this jam, another wrench in the whole thing is flung right in; the faucets of the bathroom sinks breaking apart as pillars of water come towering out, beginning to flood the floor of the restroom. “Aw shit! The whole place is getting soaked.” Frida curses. “Big deal. A bathroom this big is gonna take a while to flood.” “That ain’t what’s gonna screw us first. Remember that defibrillator I threw at the toilet?” Just a few stall down from where they take cover, there sits the remains of the very medical device she used to trigger the dastardly trap; the electrical tool still letting out sparks while remaining stuck to the spikes sticking out from the bowl. “We don’t think of something soon, we’ll wind up for the shock of a lifetime.” claims Frida, the flooding water beginning to rise past the souls of their shoes.

The blazing inferno threatening the boys has now grown to engulf half the kitchen, forcing them closer and closer towards the only door keeping them locked in. And though the burning flames slowly encroach upon the other side of the door, their air solidifying psychic among them attempts to keep the fire at bay with a big gray shield made from the very smoke of the flames; all the while Wedsle and Thursotte work at and pound at the door locking them in. “How’s the door coming, boys?” Tuesco asks of them, keeping the dark gray barrier standing. “No good. The lock won’t budge.” Thurs informs. “And the doors harder than a stiff erection. Can’t break it down no matter how much I pound it.” Wedlse claims. “Well, then we gotta come up with another way out. I don’t know how long I can hold back this fire.”

Upon the newcomers warning, the two turn their attention away from the door and back towards the rest of the kitchen, gazing past their new members gray barricade and through the raging flames; the purple psychic’s eyes soon fixed to a grate left in the middle of the ceiling. “Think I found our ticket out of this little slice of hell’s kitchen.” he tells the rest, drawing attention towards this grate. “That vent? Boy, the smoke make you lose your mind!? Or you just forgot about the inferno growing right in front of us?” “I ain’t blown my brain load yet, buddy. I know a way we can quell these nasty flames before they toast our asses to a perfect sizzling taste, and that way is right here.” claims Wedsle, patting Thursotte on the head. “What?” “Picture it Thurs, even a flick of your magic would send this kitchen spiraling down and possibly smear these fire down into nothing but embers.” “You seriously want me to cause an accident here, in the middle of this blazing inferno?” summarizes Thurs. “What, you think it can get worse then being trapped in this blazing inferno?” “I...guess not.” “Great, put a hole in that wall fresh meat. Thurs here’s got batch of fresh baked mayhem to deliver.”

“Not happening.” he denies. “What, why?” Thurs then questions. “I’ve only made basic shapes so far, I don’t know the first thing about breaking off just a piece of what I make.” “Can’t you just compress what you got down or something.” “I’ve just learned to do stuff like this less than several hours ago, what do you think? All I can do is make or break, that’s all you get.” “Then don’t just stand there, start breaking. Bring this shit down like stonewall.” Weds demands. “Nu uh! Ain’t no way in hell I’m trusting any kind of cockamamie scheme coming out of your mouth!” Tuesco objects. “Cockamamie?” “Then trust it from mine.” Thurs then suggests. “My power’s can get us outta this mess one way or another. Ceiling falls on the fire, the faucet pipes burst. I can picture a dozen things happening that could help us out. So if you don’t have faith his plan, then put it me.” “...You better make that shot count, kid.”

Scooping up a couple of nearby small pieces of rubble, Wedsle hands the ammo he needs to turn this situation around over to his accident causing crewmate; Thursotte gazing out beyond the smokey barrier held together by the newcomer as he starts to take aim. “Wait for it...Now!” he demands, enveloping the pieces of ceiling in his psychic aura. Holding more assurance towards Thursotte’s word, the former officer shatters the wall of solid gray in but mere moments; the suffocating smoke held in the other side bellowing against them all as the chaos causing psychic throws out the rubble towards the rest of the kitchen. Each pieces of rubble the young man had lobbed across the fiery blaze smacks against a few of the kitchen appliances and pan racks strewn throughout, the racks jerking away to make the pans fly right off its hooks and all over the place; a few of them careening over towards the sink. After a couple of the pan’s hefty steel strikes against the faucet and its handles enough, they break off from the rest of the sink to unleash a torrent of water that pours down against the raging inferno before it; the blazing flames quelling under the waters cold downpour.

As the terrible blaze before them begin to be quelled, the suffocating smoke that threatens to choke the boys recedes in kind; not only leaving them with slightly more clear air to breath, but more clear vision as well. Beyond the weakened flames do they all behold a path towards the vent Wedsle had promised them off, with only a few sparse fires standing in their way. “Just as planned. And you had the balls to doubt me.” Weds brags to the former officer. “Shut up!” “But the water coming out of the faucet can’t reach over here. There’s still some pretty bad flames keeping us back.” Thurs claims, gazing to the fires that bock their way. “I got this one.” Tuesco then declares, his cerulean aura flaring up as he reaches for the smoke rising from these flames. Capturing this smoke underneath his power, the fresh meat of the crew solidifies the plumes of smoke into a long slab of gray; the solid piece of smoke making itself into a bridge that closes the fiery gap between them and the vent above the middle counter. “Nice one!” Thurs compliments. “I mean its simple, but it works.” Wedsle backhandedly adds.

Their path set, the three waste not another moment to cross over towards the counter in the middle of the blazing kitchen; though trouble again brews its ugly head as the faucet water keeping the flames at bay start to die down. The flames engulfing the kitchen begin to well back into a blazing rage as the broken faucet finally runs dry; the trio crossing onto the top of the counter as these fires pick back up. “Tuesco! The fires are surrounding us. Make a cylinder to stop them.” Thursotte tells him to do. Yet when attempting to fulfill this request, the former officer finds spreading his aura into the shape of a cylinder rather strenuous to accomplish; the cerulean power he wields failing to completely surround them. “I...can’t…It’s too much!” “Now look who has a cock in their mouth, you swine shit!” Weds insults, battering the vent grate above them.

Growing worry and dread start to broil within both Thurs and Tues as the fire surrounding them start to rise up once more; the inferno practically moments away from engulfing the counter where they stand. But while the two are left feeling helpless among the approaching flames, Wedsle feast upon their growing tension and fearing dread to lend him the strength needed to break through the grate baring them from their only escape. When upon striking the thin steel grate off of its screwed hinges, the violet psychic pulls the piece of bent grate off the ceiling and clasps his hands together before he tells the others that he’s: “Get in, bitches!” Lowering his clasped hands to them both, Wedsle lets them step onto the palms of his hands and lifts the two up towards the open vent shaft; just in time as the flames begin to grow against the counter they stand on. When the two make it up to the vent, Thurs turns around to lend the purple psychic a hand in escaping from the kitchen; Wedsle leaping up to take the hand that pulls him out from the inferno before it could consume him.

After being pulled up into the vent shaft, Wedsle takes a little bit of a moment to breath in a fresh helping non smokey air before snapping his fingers and thanking him with: “Nice work, Thurs.” “Hey, don’t mention it.” Among this do the two hear their former officer before them let out little grumbles and murmurs as he peers away from them; Thurs easing his presented huff by complimenting: “Hey, You did pretty good too, Tues.” “Even if you did fuck up at the finish line there.” the violet psychic brings up. “I’m new at all this! What do want from me!?” he barks back with.

“What you can do for me is suck my di-” Before Wedsle could take another jab to the disheveled guy, Thurs puts his hand over the purple psychic’s mouth to shut him and speak in his behalf with: “I’m sure what Wedsle is trying to get at is that there’s always room for you to improve. I’m sure with some practice and pointers, you can get the hang of your new powers in no time.” “Hrmm…” Tuesco grunts over as he starts to crawl through the vent tunnel. While following after the disgruntled former officer through the vents, Thurs peeks back to his purple leader with a finger to his mouth a clear sign telling him to keep his mouth shut; despite his rolling eyes does Wedsle simply comply with his crew mates silent request as they quickly move through the vent tunnel.

The water flooding the bathroom starts to reach up to both of their ankles as Satette and Frida are desperate for a plan to break out before the sparks of the broken defibrillator a couple stalls down spells their doom. Yet simply rushing over to said stall and grabbing the busted medical equipment is a no go, as the nozzle heads slithering out from the showers keep firing shots of water towards where they take cover. “Waters already soaking our shoes; 6 more minutes and it’ll get up to our knee’s. It goes any higher then that, it’ll be lights out for us.” Frida summarizes. “We gotta have something that can bust that door down...Wait.” Sat ponders.

Its out from pondering this that the lively psychic start to unzip the front end of her dress; Frida giving her a strange glare as she tells her: “Don’t think now’s the best time for to go skinny dip...What the hell!?” Out from underneath her dress, the lively psychic pulls out about a dozens little wriggling fuzzy creatures that squirm in her grasp; a small giggle escaping from Satette as she keeps them from dropping down in the flooded floor below: “Easy little guys. You don’t want to go for a swim in these waters.” “Are those fucking moles? The hell did you even get them?” “I scooped them all up from a nest I found under the house. Figured they’d come in handy sooner or later. I’m sure you’d have thought of the same thing.” “No! I- Who the hell would even...W-what do you even plan on doing with them all?” “I’m gonna make them into a way out.” Satette states, infusing the countless moles in her own natural green power.

Underneath the lively psychic’s aura do the moles loose their individual form and merge together into one glowing mass; the dazzling shape of the matter elongates into a rod holding a thick point along its other end. After a few more moments of molding more and more into fining the tip of this mass; the glowing green engulfing it starts to dissipate and reveal what Satette had reformed the moles into. Held in her hands now stood a staff of fuzzy flesh and; the calcium and bone of the gathered moles sticking out into a fine point. Twisting the neck of the rod does she command the fleshy tool’s bone tip to rapidly spin with the force of a power drill; the sound of shifting flesh echoing through the bathroom as it turns. “Tada! What do ya think? You digging this?” “Girl...that’s so god damn wrong.” “J-j-just give me some cover while I-” “Yeah, yeah.” Frida utters, pulling out a couple of her pieces as both run out from the safety of cover.

As her lively partner dashes for their only door out from this flooding nightmare, Frida leaps out from the cover of the stalls blasting out against the collection of gathered shower head; some of her shots managing to make a few of them misfire towards the roof as the bullets crack their plastic shells. The spraying heads on the other hand prove just as fierce when firing back at the gunwoman; the rising water engulfing Frida’s ankles making it difficult to dodge their blasting pieces of water. Some of these shot out pieces of water unfortunately end up hitting her hands with enough force to knock one of her pistols out from her grasp, leaving behind a red welt along the side of her palm as she reaches into her jacket for another firearms. “Don’t got all day here, Sat!” she tells the woman behind her. “Gimme a sec!” Satette tells her, fidgeting with the neck of her fleshy tool.

Taking a moment to inspect the grooves and engravings, the young woman slides the bone tip of her mole drill around the face of the door; attempting to determine the best place to strike her weapon into its mahogany surface. Satette then stops the point of her drill right along a groove that thins out the door enough for her drill to feasibly break through and cocks the head of her weapon back before claiming that she’s: “Got it! Let’s see pest control deal with this!” The entire door trembles when Sat thrusts her biological drill against its very face; the drill’s head rapidly spinning its bone tip through its hard mahogany, leaving behind only a couple cracks spreading through its wooden surface. “Come on...Come on…” the lively psychic goes as she keeps pressure against the door.

A flurry of bullets are unleashed against the multiple shower heads as they continue their watery barrage against the dimensional psychic, keeping a steady aim as she fires her rapid fire AK-47. Though the storm of lead break apart a couple of the shower heads; the water from their pipes continues to spray out towards the gun woman. One of these streams shoot straight into stomach with enough of a punch to nearly make her double over; another of the shower heads blasting a shot of water straight into the of the gun woman’s gun and bending the barrel. “Shit! Anytime now, girl.” urges Frida, holding her damaged weapon against the firing shower heads like a shield. “Just a couple more moments! This wood’s pretty hard stuff!” Satette tells her, the tip of her mole drill digging further into the door’s face.

As she fires her other pistol at the slithering shower heads, the dimensional psychic makes a slow advance against the rouge bathroom appliances as she shields herself from their powerful cannon like sprays; her anxious worry skyrocketing when glancing into the stall she had thrown the defibrillator in. Frida lets out a sharp gasp when discovering the flooding water only a couple more feet from the broken sparking piece of equipment. “Sat!” she cries out. “Almost.”

Just when it seemed like the two psychic were on the verge of meeting their electrifying finale, the drill to Satette mole pole makes a break through against the bathroom door’s mahogany wood as the small cracks rapidly stretch out across it face; the water that rose up to their knee’s draining away as the door finally break apart under the bones of the moles. The flooding water they stand in suddenly rushing out from the busted down door, both of the girls are knocked off their feet as they’re swept out from bathroom; water from within soaking walls of the hallway.

After both Frida and Sat rise up from the puddles left along the wooden hallway floor, the two roughly cough out what water had slipped into them; the gun woman looking to the extensive damage dealt against her rapid fire weapon inflicted by the forceful blasts of water. Bent barrel, caved in clip, stretched bump stock, the AK-47 was borderline useless now. “Dammit!” Frida curses, marching over towards the lively psychic.

Jut when she gets herself off the puddles littering the floor, Satette feels the collar of her dress being pulled over as Frida drags the young woman face to face with her; the lively psychic hearing her partner utter something before she light shoves her back. “What...just what the hell is wrong with you!?” she then starts to yell at her for. “Hey, what’s with the freak out? We made it, didn’t we?” “We wouldn’t have been almost turned into human eels if you didn’t almost get yourself skewered on that toilet trap.” “Gimme a break, nature was calling. Besides, you had the smart idea to throw that defibrillator onto it in the first place. There seriously wasn’t anything else you could’ve dunked in there?” “Don’t spin this on me, I-...You know what. Maybe I was wrong on sticking together. Look what almost happened to us cause of that.” “Frida.” Sat utters. “Lets just split.” the dimensional psychic simply leaves with, departing through the hallway beside them. “...Fine!” Sat barks, heading out through another hallway close by. Left too distracted from their huffed up split away from one another, neither of the two woman notices the part of the ceiling they just stood under wobble and wave like a body of water; the head of a man emerges out from above. The man’s eyes let out ruby red glow as his thick ginger hair droops down towards the floor as he peer towards the young woman, dagger eyes and all.

Within another part of this strange abode stands freshly cleaned beds and dressers making the inside of a bedroom, meant to be shared by several others occupants; this decedent peace is disturbed however when the grate above is knocked off from the ceiling. Inside the vent hole overlooking the bedroom, Tuesco lowers his head to take a peek inside and gaze through the comforting guest room; claiming to the others behind him that: “Looks all clear to me.” “Perfect.” he hears Wedsle go, suddenly being shoved right out from the vent to plummet down below. Though he is left caught off guard by his unexpected fall, the bed beneath him cushions what would normally a pretty nasty descent. “You son of a biii…Ahh…” the airy psychic growls before the thread count of the bed sheets calmed his nerves. “Wedsle, what wrong with you, he could’ve gotten really hurt?” chastises Thursotte as both he and Wedsle lower themselves down. “Hey, he’s alright, ain’t he? No harm, no foul.”

Beyond the beds cloudy soft plush mattress, the violet psychic ventures over to the accompanying dressers and opens up one of their drawers to discover within a collection of socks, all of which neatly folded and arranged by size. “Mmmph, creepy.” Wedsle winces. Thursotte on the other hand fancies a look over to one of the nightstand, its polished mahogany finish reflecting the lights held above; the young man gazing into his own reflection as he makes the statement that: “You know, from what all we seen so far about this place, it feels like a mid class inn more than a criminal hideout.” “Yeah. Pretty damn strange.” “Hey, I ain’t complaining. Bed right here’s been the best thing I’ve laid on in a long while.” Tues sighs.

Its when gazing out from the bedroom door that Wedsle catches something across the hall that peeks his interests; a desk and a filing cabinet could be seen beyond the doorway; a private office of some sort perhaps? Eyeing the office on the other side of the hall, Wedsle glance back to his two other crew mates and inform that: “Heya, Imma see what dirt’s stashed away over in that office, you two come over and watch my back, kay?” “Man, do we have to? I’m starting to get comfy.” “Fine then, keep your dirty ass on those sheets. Their soft thread count’ll be the last thing you feel when that bed starts to come alive and choke you out.” the violet psychic warns, a notion of which urge the former officer to get himself off the bed and join the others as they head out into the hall.

Entering into the office and shutting the door behind him, Wedsle takes a moment to peer around the small space to find any sort of traps held under its unassuming facade; the violet former mobster looking underneath the luxury office chair, the polished oakwood desk, and the shimmering plastic plants before moving on over to the filing cabinets. Grasping the handle to one of its drawers, Weds stands back as he swiftly jerks it open in anticipation for any sort of dastardly trap waiting within; yet is weary when nothing springs out from within the open drawer. A peek inside leaves him somewhat confused when gazing upon its contents; finding nothing but a collection of rag dolls held inside; each of them left in different conditions reflecting the care put into them; some left battered and beaten to the point of tearing, others clearly taken care for and look as fresh as the day they were made.

Wedsle swiftly dismiss the strangely stored set of dolls and pulls open the next drawer above, his eyebrows raising when seeing this one labeled as “Toys”; the mere implication of this drawing out a gleefully sinister grin. Ooh hoohoohoohoo. Lets see what kind of fucking freak our hostile host is. Cracking open the labeled drawer, the initial naughty grin that Wedsle held almost instantly deflates when peering what was held within; the violet psychic reaching in to pull out an action figure, one whose paint was slightly worn. Gazing back down from where he had pulled this little guy from, the violet psychic glares upon an assorted collection of various figurines, some of which have had their paint worn down from the passage of time. Disappointed with what he had uncovered, Weds drops the little action figure down in the drawer with the rest before swiftly shutting it. Why would even put them all in filing cabinet?

A look to the drawer above, Wedsle wastes not another moment pulling it open and taking a little peek inside; the purple mobster left only perplexed as he discover within a myriad of office supplies tucked away within. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, paper clips, staples, almost everything you would find in any regular office; but why in this cabinet of all places. Before he could further ponder of this bizarre storage, Weds sees the collection of supplies start to tremble inside the drawer; the collection churning and gathering together and congealing as if the supplies made up something else, something alive. Among this frightening development does some of the supplies come together to form what seemed like a face staring back at him, this visage letting out a bone chilling outcry as he starts to rise out from the rest of the mass. Nope.

Though just when this creature was moments away from rising out, Wedsle swiftly slams the drawer shut and puts his foot against the face to keep this thing from breaking loose; soon quickly looking near that he could use to keep it shut. A couple feet away from the cabinet, the violet psychic pulls over a chair left along the opposite end of the desk and props it up against drawer to keep whatever had churned within from breaking free. Ain’t dealing with that shit.

When finally looking to the top drawer does his disappointment fade as he slides the cabinet open, finally uncovering actual files held within its aluminum tomb; each folder stored in neat and alphabetical order. Finally, got some real shit on our hands here. Time to see what sort of blast from the past you’re hiding behind your ass. Among starting to search through the filing drawer, the whole cabinet continues to quake from the malformation of office supplies banging underneath; Wedsle simply ignoring the outcries and thrashing as he keeps looking through. Christ, chill out already.

As the intrusive purple guest was busy coming through the filed archives stashed away in this cabinet, Thursotte and Tuesco are left to stand just right outside the door; both of them peering through the hall for any sign of their mysterious host. Among their lookout does the former officer glance back towards the young man he stands alongside with to say: “Say, uh...You mind if I ask you something?” “Yeah, go ahead.” Thurs opens to him with. “I know you were kinda thrust into all this but...You mind telling me how a guy like you can put up with being barked at from a crook like him.” “You mean Wedsle? Um...I mean I know he can be kind of...is an ass, sometimes. But he’s actually a pretty nice guy once you get to know him.” “I doubt that. All I see from him is a big purple punk smart ass who’s too big for his britches.” “Those britches fit better than you think. Out of everyone in this rag tag group of ours, Weds been in this sort of cutthroat prone sort of business for a tragically long time. If any one of us would know how to navigate their way through this dangerous stormy sea of exploitation and bloodshed smoothly, it’d be him.” “I’m not seeing it. Frankly, punks like that are only good for the streets.” “And that right there is why I put so much faith in him. Who else but a man of the streets would be better in making their way in this crazy cut throat world of ours?”

All remains eerily quiet as Satette carefully treks through the baron hallway, with only the sound of her footstep against the wooden floor being all the accompany her as she keeps an eye on the decorations that she passes over; the young woman anxious for the moment one of these pieces of décor could leap from the walls and attack. Metal, chimes, engraved plagues, wooden carvings; who knows which of these decorations may hold a truly nasty trap underneath their unassuming faces. Much to her suspicion however, not a single piece so much as twitches as Sat walks right on by; the lively psychic keeping her eyes glued as she heads towards the corridor on the other side of the hallway.

When entering through the open corridor, Satette breaks her sights away from the hallway and into the room she had just enter; the young woman finding herself having come upon a sizable living room fitted with what you would typically find in any other abode. Plush sofa’s and recliners, coffee and end tables, coasters, decorations, lamps, even a television hung up on the wall; all of it coming together to bring out a seemingly comforting atmosphere to rest your weary ass in. But what really brings the whole room together was the chandelier hanging above it all; its glistening metal holding countless sharp points and edges reflecting the glow of the very lights they hold. Despite tempted to lay her ass down onto one of these welcoming seats for a brief moment, the young woman simply strolls right on past; knowing for a fact that their cushioned facades hide life threatening traps. Seriously, if they’re dickish enough to booby trap the damn toilet, who know’s what other nasty shit they’ve got set up here. Satette makes a stroll right along past the living room furniture and right towards the door on the other side, clutching the knob and twisting only to find it locked tight; the lively psychic letting out a little sigh before brandishing her mole made weapon. Whelp. Second verse, same as the first.

But just when preparing to jam the tip of her organic drill against its face, the door rapidly swings open and strikes against her; the unexpected blow causing Satette to tumble back and land right onto the living room couch. Though before she could revel in the near hypnotic comfort the sofa cushions bestow upon her, the piece of furniture starts to come clasping together as she lay right in the middle; Sat left struggling to rise up from her suffocating tomb as the couch swiftly encases her under its cushions. As the comforting couch was moments away from clasping down like the mouth of a predator against its pray, a bright natural green glow shines out from the little opening that was left; a glow that evaporates as the sofa finally collapses shut.

When hope had seemed lost and Satette doomed to her cushy prison, out from the back of the enclosed sofa do spikes of thick bone shrapnel suddenly tear out from its cloth; several more pieces of these dense bones emerging to tear away against the soft cloth making up the piece of furniture. More and more do these sharp bones rip apart the couch that had threatened to entrap the young woman until Sat herself leaps out from within; her hands covered in the fuzz and flesh of the moles as their bones protrude out from her fingers like dastardly razor claws. Mole mitts!

When the ground beneath her feet quakes, a glance down reveals herself standing atop the coffee tables; its polished wood violently trembling as Sat struggles to get off its surface. Suddenly does table she stand on start to rapidly rise up from the floor and make a rocketing ascent towards the glistening sharp chandelier above; its deadly golden spikes shimmering in the light as Satette rises towards them. With little time to leap off the table, Sat sticks the claws of her mole mitts towards the incoming golden ornamental lights and blocks their lethal edges by the skin of their bones. But even holding back the glistening spikes adorning the chandelier, the table beneath her refuses to stop rising as it send both her and the lights hitting the against the ceiling; Satette struggling to fend the light’s lethal edges back as the coffee table continues to push. Some of the chandeliers points prode against her as she start to slide her way out from on top of the rising coffee table; inching herself close towards the edge as she keeps the spikes from digging into her flesh. And when closing in on the end of the table, Sat swiftly rolls right off the side before it hammers against the chandelier above with a terrible clash; some pieces of the ornamental light fixture breaking off as Sat lands back onto the floor.

Coming back up on her feet after the rough fall, the young woman looks to her body to discover herself with scrapes and cuts be seen bleeding across her body left behind from her close call with the chandelier; the blood seeping out from her small cuts being more than enough incentive to make a break for the door before any of this rooms traps were to be set off. Though she attempt to race towards the door she came in as fast as she can, the door prove faster as it violently slam shut; the bronze engraving on the other side jutting out from the face to lunge towards her. Using the claws of her mitts, the lively psychic shields herself against the jabbing bronze as the force sends her careening across the living room.

As she rolls towards the other side of the living room, Satette digs her mole claws into the floor to stop herself from slamming into the wall behind her, leaving behind her marks against the polished wood. Her ears perk as they catch a disgruntled growl echoing through the living room, following the sharp growl to a wall beside her; Satette slowly backing away as its surface wobbles around like freshly disturbed water. “You!” she hears screaming from the walls. The young woman is taken aback when watching the end of a ginger haired man emerge out from the surface of the living room wall; this man glaring towards her with his ruby red eyes as he growls out: “Do you know how long its gonna take to get those marks off?” “What the!? Who the hell are-” “The sofa, that’s fine, the chandelier, easier to replace than you think. But the floorboard? I can’t just take out the part you clawed at, you know; I’ll have to redo the whole damn thing! You people have no idea what its like keeping a place like mine up, making sure everything’s all neat and tidy like it were your own set of teeth!” “Your place? So then that makes you the host to this little slice of heaven?” “Unfortunately for you, yes. And as the host of this abode, it’s by job to tend to the unwelcomed guests who happen to stumble their way into these very walls.” he elaborates, beginning to slink out from the living room wall, countless small knives settled in between his fingers “So I’d recommend you sit back and relax. For that respite shall be your last.”

The clank of the aluminum cabinet reverbs through the office when Wedsle slams its drawer shut, the purple psychic letting out a disgruntled sigh as he turns his attention towards the rest of the office space. Fucking nothing but a bunch of business receipts and useless outdated documents. Not a single god damn signature in any of these damn folders. Easy, Weds. It’s just one part of the office. Maybe we’ll have better luck snooping around the desk.

Strolling right over towards the main desk in question, the first part of it the violet mobster checks out is the small drawers in hopes of digging out any mementos or clues as to who their host may be; unfortunately finding nothing in them but a couple of supplies and other knickknacks. Its not until he peers up to the top of the desk that he winds up finding something that catches his attention, his eyes widening as he reaches across its polished oak wood to grasp at a framed photo sitting along the edge. It...It can’t be. Staring astonished to the photo the ordinary frame holds, Wedsle finds pictured a gang of 4 rugged and ragtag posing for a group photo together with him; most of them, though younger, he recognized the moment he sees them. Monty, Harley, and...Is that really what I used to look like? Beanie, dangling hood, tight pants and fucking red shoes, really. Shit, glad smartphones weren’t that mainstream back then, or I would have never lived a disaster like that down. That other guy though…Ruby red eyes and thick ginger hair; it can’t be. Is he really the host of this whole damn safehouse. Its among taking this in that he suddenly feels the whole office tremble underneath his feet; these tremors swiftly settling moments after they happen. That didn’t sound too far from here…Oh no!

The nostalgic framed photo in his hand, Wedsle rushes for the door and tackles his way out from the office; a rash action which catches both Thurs and Tuesco completely off guard. “Whoa!” “Jeez. Where’s the fire?” “Ain’t got no time for fires. I figured out who’s behind this whole haunted hotel hell. And we gotta stop them before they wind up screwing us. And not in the fun way.” the purple mobster claims, dashing through the halls.

Like the claws of a deadly predator swiping towards its target, the host of this nightmare abode swings his countless butterfly knives against his lively intruder as Satette blocking him with the bones of her mole mitts; every swipe the host makes against her bone claws leaves behind cuts along their bone marrow. But when she attempts to strike back against her host, the ginger haired man proves the swifter as he delves right into the floor like the water of a swimming pool to completely evading his guests slashing assault; the lively psychic letting out a frustrated growl as she peers throughout the room for any sign of where he’ll pop out next.

But among her little investigation through the living room, she fails to notice a chair sitting on the other end of the room start to vibrate; the bronze engravings along the side of its seat emerge as a set of lethal sharp teeth. This chair in the very next moment lunges towards the unwelcome guest while barring its fangs against the lively psychic, careening across the room like a falcon swooping towards its prey. When finally realizing the chairs approach, Sat acts fast to transform her mole mitts back into that of a staff made from flesh and bone; the young psychic lodging the weapon in between the chair’s sharp bronze jaws. Though the staff of mole bones keeps the chair’s choppers of bronze from biting down upon her, the jaws of the furniture show to be stronger than she though; the neck of her weapon beginning to crack underneath the chair’s pressure.

As Satette struggles to keep the jaws of the chair from clamping down upon Satette, her hostile host drops down from the ceiling above and plunges a couple of his butterfly knives down upon her; their sharp steel plunging into her arms and shoulders. Satette quickly glances back to discover her ginger host right behind her, preparing to stab the rest of his knives into her back. Moments before her foe could jam the cold steel of his knives into her flesh, Satette jerks the chair trapped in her grasp right around and sends it smacking right against its very owner; the wood of the chair shattering to chips as the bronze attached to it clangs against the ginger haired host.

As Satette witnesses her hostile host retreat back to the inside of the wall, her eyes dart to the neck of her mole made weapon; the young woman left startled when realizing there be a big crack stretching out on both ends. Dammit. Guess that shouldn’t be as surprising considering mole claws were made for digging rather than fighting. Its bone marrow doesn’t look like it can take any more punishment, but I’ll be defenseless without it; got be some way to- Splintering from these thoughts is Satette’s attention then drawn to a couple of the butterfly knives lodges in her shoulders; both these weapons and her own nearly broken staff lending her a sneaky little idea.

Slowly surfacing out from the ceiling, the psychic host peers down to discover his young intruder wondering through the living room in hopes of searching for a way out; seeing his knives still plunges into her shoulder. Seeing the young lady utterly distracted does the ginger psychic take this moment to turn the tables in his favor; or rather, turn the whole room sideways, causing Satette to tumble towards him. His moment to strike set, the host breaches out from the ceiling and leaps towards the tumbling young woman; preparing to stab more of his tiny knives across her body.

Yet upon the moment to strike, he fails to anticipate Satette striking back against him with one of his own butterfly knives, managing to plunge one of them into the man’s abdomen. The host is ultimately perplexed of how the young lady stabbed him with his own knife when they were still plunges into her shoulder, though when getting a closer look does he find the answer. The “knives” that were stuck in her shoulders, they were rather splinters of bone protruding out from a fuzzy flesh that covered the wounds the real weapons had inflicted.

Before the young woman could bury any more of his own knives into him, the ginger host swipes at her hands to knock the weapons out from her hands; soon kicking Satette away towards the other end of the living room where the coat rack stands. As soon as she slams against the pole, its cold steel bends around her body and ravels across her body like a greedy serpent catching its meal. Entombed in the warped coat racks steel grasp, Satette can do little but watch as the host swims up towards a corner of the living room; resting his hands upon the flat screen TV that hangs up from the ceiling. The host presses a couple of the Television’s buttons before its screen flashes alight, emitting a powerful red glow out from which a searing heat roasts whatever shines upon it.

“Using this causes so much damage to the room, but you forced me pull it out. A few moments underneath the TV’s red hot rays and you’ll be burnt to a crisp.” he claims, clutching hold of the back of the TV. Try as she might to break free from the steel coat rack wrapped around her, Sat sees the host starting to move the red hot flat screen to face her; realizing that there was no way of slipping out from her binds before the TV’s searing rays shine upon her. But just when the Television was but seconds away from directing its deadly rays against the trapped young woman; a single gun shot fires out from across the room and shatters its screen in but an instant. The host left spooked as the sparks fly out from the front of the TV, but that same surprise rises to new heights when glaring back down to the young woman trapped in his coat rack.

Out from the bosom of Satette’s dress emerged a single hands holding a pistol aimed squarely towards the ginger host; the man himself watching utterly astonished as he watches the woman this hand belongs to climb out from underneath the lively psychic’s dress. “Christ, Frida. You gotta wait til I’m down to the wire?” she tells the gun woman emerging out from her. “Wanted to see how long you lasted. If its any compliment, you went for longer than I thought.” Frida answers, coming out from her partners dress to standing against on her own. “You! You-you were with...B-but I thought you two-” the ginger host babble. “Split? You really think we’d be dumb enough to split up while in enemy territory? Can’t believe you fell for one of the most simple tricks in the book. You don’t get out that much, do you?” she boldly mocks, aiming both of her twin pistols towards their hostile host.

The discordant echoes of racing footsteps echo as the boys dart through the abode long hall; Wedsle taking the lead as the others struggle to keep up, with Tuesco questioning in between his breaths: “Slow down, boy!...What...What’s the hurry for?” “Yeah, what’d you see inside that office that got you in the mood for a marathon?” Thurs adds. “A little picture on the desk caught my eye and told me who’s the host holding us in here. Haven’t seen the guy in so long, still can’t believe that dick’s been hiding here all this time.” “Wait, Weds, you know this guy?” “Afraid so. Real nasty piece of work. He’s-”

Just when about to explain his relations to the master of this domestic dominion, a harsh crash baits their attention to from where they came; Thurs and Tues terrified when witnessing an amalgamation of countless office supplies flood across the hallway like a rushing river. Among the dozens of paper clips, staplers, tapes and pins, there lies at the forefront of the wave what appeared to be a visage made from them; its shimmering red button eyes fixated to the trio as he lets out a rattling outcry. “Oh right. That thing. Why’d I go thinking chair would be enough to keep it stuck?” the purple psychic mentions. “What the hell is that thing!?” Thurs screams. “Nevermind what sort of discarded office supply shit it happens to be, I need it off my ass so I can get to our guy in time. Think you guys can manage?” “What!? How do you expect us to hold back that monstrosity!?” Tues exclaim. “Figure it out.” Wedsle simply advises them, the distance between him and the others growing as the purple psychic picks up the pace.

While Wedsle makes his dash deeper down the hall, Thursotte and Tuesco stop right in their tracks to face down the incoming cluster of living office supplies; the rattling of its body growing louder as it rapidly nears. Being the only one between them that could potentially halt the amalgamation’s rampaging approach, Tuesco thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the monstrous collection of supplies and commands his aura to take the shape of a wall, one that encompasses every corner of the hallway, solidifying the air before them into a thick barrier. The collection of living office supplies nonetheless slams its body against the psychic made solid wall with enough force to shake the entire hallway; Tuesco letting out a pained grunt as cracks begin to form in his barricade. “You okay there?” Thurs worries. “Yeah, I’m alright. But I’m not sure how long I can hold this.” he admits, the cluster of supplies continuing to bang against his barrier, the cracks slowly growing with every tackle made against him.

Bullets ricochet across the living room as Frida fires her pistols towards their retreating host, none of them so much as hitting him as the ginger haired gent delves back down into the depths of the wall; the gun woman keeping her aim steady as she lets it wonder through the room. Though left helpless underneath the iron grasp of the coat hanger wrapped around her body, Satette winds up noticing a couple of pictures hung on the wall trembling; their sharp bronze edges shuttering against one another before they’re suddenly launched towards her partner in crime. “Frida, behind you!” Sat warns her.

Jolting her head back does Frida see the pair of picture frames careening towards her, with their bronze edges spinning through the air like throwing stars. When she manages to block the incoming bronze frames with the steel heads of her pistols, one of them getting knocked out from her hands and sent hurdling across the room. The very moment she looks back to where her weapon had been flung, the dimensional psychic finds her pistol being swiped by a hand breaching out from the carpet; this hand sinking with the gun before Frida could so much as aim. “Shit!”

Left partially disarmed, Frida keeps her eyes peeled for whatever sort of dastardly tricks the host has in store for her; the gun woman taking more cautious approach knowing her foe now wields one of her own weapons. But its among her caution that she’s caught off guard when feeling the entire room start to tilt; Frida trying to reach over towards the wall as the living room turns towards the side, yet is just a moment too late as she tumbles down across the floor. While careening to the other side of the living room, she catches a glimpse of the host surfacing out from the wall and taking aim with her own pistol; the ginger gent firing several shot towards her. But the guy ultimately proves to not be as much of a crackshot as her however, as every bullet he fires winds up missing its mark; a problem that Frida has little trouble with as she takes only one to shoot her gun out from his mitts. The host retreat back into the safety of the wall as Frida’s second pistol comes dropping down towards her, its grip nestling in her palm as she swipes it out from the air and back into her possession.

God dammit, this is getting nowhere. Long as this asshole’s skulking around in the walls, getting any shot on him will be downright impossible; like a hunter trying to snipe at a runaway deer in a dense forest. I can’t merge into anything in here either, the whole damn place is literally against me. I need to sway it back in my favor before it winds up becoming my tomb. Putting her freshly retrieved pistol back into the confines of her jackets inside, the gun woman rummaging around a little in there before feeling something that could ultimately help her out; something that brings a little smirk to her face.

But when trying to pull out this little trump card, she feels the wall beneath her wobble around and looks beneath her feet to find the host himself breaching the surface with butterfly knives in hand. Frida evades the ginger gents slashing assault with a swift spinning sidestep and aims the head of her pistol right at the guy to try and counterattack, the host delving down just as she fires to thrust the tip of her knives straight towards the woman’s stomach. Though when going for the kill, the hostile host is taken by surprise when out from underneath her jacket does the gun woman pull out a shotgun; its barrel aimed squarely right at him. Try as the host might to make his retreat back into the floor, Frida proves a tad faster as she pulls the trigger and unleashes a storm of pellets against the guy; some of these shots managing to hit the guy as he slink back into the depths of the wall.

“Nice shot, Frids! That outta make him hiss.” cheers Satette. “Yeah, but not for long. Only got a few pellets in him...How you holding up?” “Not well. Can’t even move an inch with this damn coat rack squeezing me.” “How many of those little guys you got left?” “About 4 or 5 I’d say. Barely enough tissue for me to make even bone knuckles.” “Still, it outta be enough. You remember plan B, right?” “Oh yeah, that! I think I can do that if-. Wait, behind you!” the lively psychic suddenly warns.

Amidst the young woman’s sudden warning does the ginger host suddenly surface out from the ceiling behind Frida to plunge his small knives behind her; the gun woman letting out a pained hiss as their steel digs into the back of her shoulders. Before the ginger gent could stab any more of his knives into her, he suddenly feels the butt of his intruder’s shotgun slam into the bottom of his jaw; Frida flinging the guy right towards her bound partner. But when landing right next to the bound young woman, the host quickly makes his retreat back into the depths of the wall, not even sparing a moment with her.

Its then that the entire room once again starts to tilt over and in turn sending the girls tumbling towards the other side; Satette helplessly only to watch as Frida left to plummet towards a cabinet who’s doors swing wide open. Clutching the outside rim of the cabinet, Frida manages to stop herself from being entombed and stares down to discover the inside to resemble an endless void. Before she could look in terror upon the abyss that stares back to her, the host himself suddenly surfaces out from the wall beside the cabinet; lunging at her with butterfly knives in between his fingers. Yet just when moments away from slashing the steel of his knives into the intruder, the ginger host feels the sting of hot steel pierce into his leg; Frida having shot him from between her arm and leg. The unexpected shot trips the ginger gent up for just long enough for Frida to leap up and flip right over him; sending their host right into the clutches of his own piece of furniture with a swift kick before swinging the cabinet door shut.

Within the dark confines of his own cabinet, the ginger gent’s eyes start to adjust to the pitch black insides as he lets out a little scoff; clearly unhindered by his intruders deceptive tricks. Though its not when he notices something else dwelling inside with him that he begins to worry, his concern inflating rapidly when finding a grenade nestled beside him, with its pin already having been pulled. In attempting to escape from the inside of the cabinet before it explodes, the host backs away from the explosive and towards the wall; yet panics when finding himself moving not even an inch through. The ginger host then peers behind himself to then discover the cause of his unexpected entrapment; the back of his suit coated in a thin layer of meat and bone that wriggles and writhes. With little time left to make his escape, the ginger host could do little but hold his arms against his face as the grenade is finally set off and unleashes a fiery explosion within the tight inside of the cabinet.

The force of the explosion proved so incredibly violent and overwhelming, the blast makes the entire home, from halls, rooms, and respites, to tremble from its fury. Close to the living room does Wedsle nearly fumble onto his knee’s from the quaking while racing through the hallway, the purple psychic kneeling against the wall to stop himself from falling on his ass. Holy shit! As the trembling starts to cease, the violet mobsters attention drifts towards where the explosion had been heard; swiftly pushing himself off the floor to make a daring sprint towards the source of the rumbling Dammit! Please don’t wind up killing each other!

As the resulting smoke from the explosion starts to clear, Satette coughs up what plumes she had accidentally took in before she peers over from where she lies and is left astonished to find the cabinet that her partner had trapped their host in still left in one piece. Obviously in pretty rough shape, but still mostly intact. “Jesus! How’s a little wooden cabinet have as much reinforcement as a safe?” she wonders aloud. “To fair, that wasn’t my strongest bomb. Don’t really like using any of the bigger stuff in enclosed spaces like this. Wouldn’t want a big wood chip wind up piercing into your brains.” answers Frida. “Still, amazed how its not been reduced to sawdust.” “I only have the best for my home.” a familiar voice claims.

“Where you think he got that...Wait, what the fuck!?” the lively psychic yelps. Upon the sound of this do both women jerk their head back to the other side of the room to discover the host of the house himself emerging out from the floor above them; his charred skin and torn outfit making it clear that he had just dodged the dance with death. “Finely sawed and smooth Quebrancho, directly imported straight Argentina. You’d be surprise how much punishment that sort of wood can take.” “An explosion at point blank and your still standing!? How!?” Frida exclaims. “You’re little firecrackers are nowhere near the sort of stuff thrown at me back in my day. Gonna take more than some cheap fireworks to bring me down.” he states, brandishing sets of butterfly knives between his fingers. “Suit yourself, old man. I’m down for another round.” the gun woman declares, aiming the barrel of her shotgun straight towards the host; her finger moments away from pulling on the trigger.

Though when the two were moments from clashing once more, one of the doors to the living comes swinging as the purple psychic rushes right inside and demanding everyone to: “Hold the fuck up, don’t-” Wedsle cuts his own words of warning off when realizing the entire room was tilted on its side, leaving him to fall from the floor and down towards the wall the others stand upon. “Shiiii-!” After the violet mobster makes a rough landing onto his shoulder at 10 feet from the door, the purple psychic lets out a sharp hiss as he slowly pulls himself off the floor; rubbing the part of his shoulder he landed on while going: “God, sure as hell hope that didn’t dislocate anything.”

“Wedsle? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were with the others.” questions Frida. “Wait, Wedsle? Is that really you?” they then hear the ginger gent ask, a question that takes both of them by surprise. “Sure is, Julian. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Never would have guessed you’ve been under our nose all along.” “Hold the hell up! Weds, you know this guy?” Sat then chimes in with. “Sure do, Sat. the utight ginger gent skilled in the way of the knife, but better in the way of the host. This right here ladies is the one and only, Julian Parkland. This tight belt wad you see coming out the walls here was part of the OG crew Monty and I hung out with back when I first started out.” he explains.

“Oh dear widdle Wedsle, please don’t tell me these ruffians are with you?” the ginger gent wonders. Hearing this little nickname from the wall swimming host, both girls can’t help but snort and snicker as they attempt to contain their laughter; Frida among them uttering with a faint shaky smile: “Widdle Wedsle?” A short sigh escapes out from the violet psychic mouth as he shakes his head, going: “Afraid so, Jules. This motley crew here’s all mine. So you mind calming your tits down and flip everyone right side up again.” Upon the purple mobsters request does the ginger host retreat back into the depths of the floor before the entire living room trembles once more; the three of the guests keep themselves steady as the entire room starts to tilt back to its original position.

The cracks in Tuesco’s solid air wall stretch further and further towards the edges with every blow taken against the living compilation of office supplies; the former officer growing weaker as he struggles to keep their shield held high. What strength he could spare finally dissolves as the barrier solid air finally shatters to pieces; the force of the air blasting out from within knocking both he and Thursotte onto the floor. Gazing up from his weariness, dread starts to fill the former officer as he watches the amalgamation of staples, pens, paper clips, and rubber bands slink closer before holding it sharp claws out as it makes its lunge against them. Against the monsters deadly approach is Tuesco shocked to witness the young man with him stand between him and the oncoming beast; Thursotte’s orange aura flaring as he prepares to defend them against its charge. Yet just before the collection of office supplies could so much as touch either of them, its bodily structure suddenly falls apart as the staplers, pencils, and paper clips that make it up fall and scatter all across the hallway floor; each of the pieces reduced to nothing more than simple supplies. From this fresh development do both of the boy glare to one another at a loss, with Thursotte’s aura receding back into his body as all comes to a calm.

The living room flipped back onto its right side, what furniture remained was left broken and shattered from the fight had been scattered all across the room; the lively psychic shaking her way out from a pile of this mess while struggling within the grasp of the metal coat rack. But soon enough does this steel pole finally unravel from around her body and frees her from its cold grasp; Satette stretching her arms and legs out as she stands up to see the others rising from their stupor. A pained groan seeps out from Wedsle as he stand back on the floor, rubbing his head as he wonders: “Jeez, Julian. Think you could warn a guy before you start playing a round of house flipp...er…” From turning around does he stop his quip short when find the host of the home staring in right in the face, Wedsle about to speak before the ginger gent starts to go off with: “You have the audacity to request something from me after breaking into my home, destroying my living room, and making a mess in my kitchen? Half the stuff your crew broken isn’t cheap. Do you know how long it’ll take for me to redo the floor, the walls, get the furniture set back up? What do you have to say to all that, huh!?” “I-I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know it was your place. All I knew about it is that Monty used to-” “Monty? Oh my god. Haven’t seen him in years and he just send you all out here without so much as a heads up? Where is he even?” The mere question of Monty’s whereabouts brings the room down, Satette looking to Frida as she watches her look away, crossing her arms in discomfort. “That’s...gonna take a minute to explain.” Wedsle then claims.

“You okay?” Thurs asks Tuesco, lending a hand to the downed former officer. “Yeah...Th-thanks for having my back?” “Its all part of being on the team.” “Don’t get too comfy having me around. Soon as I get this psychic business sorted out, I’m splitting from this city. Better off not getting caught hanging around a bunch of crooks...No offense, you and Satette seem alright.” “Oh, well...Guess I can’t really blame you on that. Most people would probably do the same in your case.”

“Why do you stick around?” “Huh?” “What’s keeping you from doing the same and bail from all this?” “I mean...beside being put on a watch list and the borders not letting go back home...I guess I want to just make sure that people who helped me out of all this turn out okay; they’re really not as bad as you think. They got some problems absolutely, and I wouldn’t exactly call them “Model people”, but that’s really all I see them as underneath all that. Psychic powers or not; they’re just people trying to get by in life; trying to cope with how hard the world treats them. Maybe that’s why they’re all so hellbent on fighting against the mob and taking it over; even if it is just this city. Its the least they could do to make it easier for everyone else, even if they need to do less then ideal things for it.” The young man’s elaboration over the other’s motivations and goals, hearing why he personally stick with them through and through, leave Tuesco boldly silent over it all; this gaze wandering towards the ceiling of the hall while he hears Thurs adds: “I hope you stick around, at least for a little while more.” “Well see…”

A disheartening quiet haunts what remains of the living room after Wedsle finishes explaining all that had lead him to the where they sit now; Frida and Sat sitting on the remains of the couch while Wedsle and Julian sit on the chairs across from them. “So...he’s really gone? All those decades of service under the mob and they just back stab and leave him to die. He he he he he...I shouldn’t be as surprised. I knew he’d wind up dead sooner or later if he stuck around. I wanted him to escape with me out from this hellhole, start something new for ourselves. But he refused, said he couldn’t bare to leave behind what mattered to him. At the time I thought he was just going on about Harley, thought that his penis was doing more of the thinking back then. But knowing what he did, it made me realize that he wasn’t just talking about her, he definitely had you in mind too.” “I’m sorry you had to here all this from me. I-” “Don’t say another word. If Monty held that much faith in you, then that’s all I really need to hear. If you think fighting against the mob will make a difference, then who am I to say otherwise.” “So then that means…” Frida wavers. “If it so needs to be, consider this safe house your haven. So long as you dwell in my walls, not another soul will reach you.”

“Oh god, thank you. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting a bath, getting a bite to eat, wash my clothes-” “However...” all of them then hears the host stop them with. “Huh?” “The collateral damage you all so recklessly inflicted upon my property is another matter. So long as you live under my roof, each of you shall work to restore this home to what it was before you barged him. Every piece of furniture put back together, every appliance fixed, and every scratch you put in my floor buffed out from top to bottom. Do I make myself clear!?” Julian demands, glaring to Satette with daggers in his eyes. “Yes sir!” she yelp. “Good. I’ll allow you all to rest now, but at the crack of dawn, Wedsle; you and your lot will get to work. Can I expect that from you?” he asks the purple psychic. “Sure. Thanks Julian.” Upon this last note, the ginger host takes his leave by sinking into the living room carpet; Satette tumbling out from her seat before falling onto the floor, still feeling chills running down her spine from the glare he gave him. Dude has scary eyes... Its among this that she notices the little bite of flesh wriggling around across the floor, no doubt from the mess of moles she had brought in before all this. Only one thing to do with them now.

Outside the confines of the dimensional pocket home, the door held among the remains of the torn up home gently opens as the light from the other side floods out; the lively psychic following out after this light as she moves towards where the stove was. Reaching her hands down towards the soft soil that was underneath the broken stove, strings of green light slither across from her arm and down to her very fingertips; these glowing essences compiling together to form back into the collection of moles she had snatched away. A comforting smile forms between her cheeks as she watches the pack of moles bury themselves into the dirt of their homes, softly waving goodbye as she heads back towards the door. “Bye little guys, thanks for the help.” Shutting the door into the safe house behind her, the light it leaves behind fades away so to let the dusk of night return. But a glimmer of this light reflects against the glass of a nearby window to reveal within its reflection a man dress in fine leather print having watched; the man vanishing out from the glass as soon as the light passes over this window and finally fades.

#lillaxtrigger #original writing

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persistent-peach · 3 years

Text

grenouille

Summary: What do you mean fake dating someone just to piss off your ex is a bad idea?

Pairing: Porco Galliard x FemReader (Modern AU), ex Floch Forster x FemReader

Warnings & Content: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of cheating, suggestive language (only if you squint), fake dating, somewhat of a rushed ending because i'm way too tired at this point to second guess my brain and its decisions

Word Count: 8.7k

A/N: me? Getting out of my cave and coming back to write a massive one-shot after two years of absolutely nothing because I am a whore for Porco Galliard? More likely than you think

“Do you really think he’s going to be there, though?”

You look up from your wine glass to Sasha with a frown. Her expression seems too calculated to be simply brushed off as bored. You can tell she’s studying your reactions, careful not to trigger any bad memories, trying to keep you in the joking mood. Even if it’s a result of your petty musings.

“Of course he’s going to be there, Sash. What are you on about?” You scoff. “He was there last time. I know that motherfucker too well to know he’s already planning to ‘bump’ into me with that little girlfriend of his just to rub it in my face.”

It’s definitely a curse and a blessing to know your ex so well that even after nearly a year from breaking up, you can still predict his every move. You made the mistake of underestimating him once and the asshole appeared next to you at your favourite festival like a fucking nightmare come to life.

You know that one year later you shouldn’t be thinking about him, shouldn’t be making contingency plans just to be prepared for the possibility of seeing him yet again. But you said that last time and were left with a pathetic excuse of a manchild sobbing in your arms that he misses you and loves you, even though he had a girlfriend at home. Even though you’ve broken up with him a few months prior after years of manipulation and disrespect and cheating.

You are over him, you truly are. What you are still dealing with is the aftermath – the trauma responses and the inability to hold a relationship for more than a few weeks just because you immediately see the red flags from a mile away.

And maybe you’re just a tiny bit petty. Just a sliver of petty, because how is it fair that one year later, he’s “happily in love” with someone else and you are still trying to patch yourself back together? And maybe you feel like you should have your revenge one way or another. You’re not a vengeful person, you don’t even like conflict, but for fuck’s sake, wouldn’t it be nice, wouldn’t it be just dandy to give him just a little bit of his own medicine?

“I have an idea.” You say, gears turning in your head, that Grinch grin taking over all of your features.

Sasha looks worried for a second, but this girl is just as petty as you are, if not even more, so it soon turns into a mirrored grin. She’ll enable all of your bullshit, just so she can revel in the hilarity of it all. Mikasa would both kill you if she were here, but fortunately she is not, and you can both make stupid plans while wine drunk at 12 am on a Friday night.

“I already love and hate this.”

“No, no, listen here. It’s the perfect plan. Are you listening?” You giggle and boop her nose, making her nearly fall back on the floor.

“I’m all ears, baby. Hit me!”

“So we go to the festival, right.” You start, counting the steps on your fingers and Sasha nods. There’s no need to explain the first step – your group of friends hasn’t missed any winter or summer edition of this festival for the past three years. “We bump into He Who Shall Not Be Named. I am fake dating someone who thinks I hung the moon. Bam! It pisses Darth Vader off so badly he finally leaves me alone.”

You’re still grinning, glee written all over your face (it might just be the wine though). However, Sasha looks confused (it might just be the wine though). She pours more wine in your glasses, trying to process the plan you came up with. Truthfully, she was expecting something more…sparkly, chaotic, dumb. You have the potential to ensue chaos and this is what you come up with? You can feel the disappointment radiating off of her, but you let her stew in the idea for a couple of minutes – she’ll come around (or maybe you’re just too drunk to see the idiocy of it all).

“Ok, ok,” Sasha starts, musing out loud. “But why do you have to fake date someone?”

“Sash, we both know I can’t even hold down a friend with benefits because I’m too fucking picky.”

“You’re not picky, Y/N. You finally have standards.”

“Potayto, potahto.” You roll your eyes. “Even if I were to start date dating someone, it would be too late at this point. The festival is in nearly three months. No one will fall in love with me so badly in such a short period of time he’ll look like he’ll pop down on one knee right then and there.”

“So you’re telling me you want to fake date someone just for that one evening in the entirely hypothetical possibility that your narcissistic ex will stalk you again and you want him to see you be in this amazing, lovely, healthy relationship with someone that is nothing like him and actually respects you and adores you the way that you deserve just so you can show that dickhead what he was supposed to be doing in the first place? And that he finally gets it through his thick skull that you will never ever get back with him, because there’s now someone who loves you so much more, he’s like a puppy in your presence? Because there’s nothing that pisses that asshole off more than someone who is better than him at something he thinks he’s the best at?”

You clap your hands in excitement and giggle at Sasha, who was so absorbed in her train of thought tirade, her own expression turns from confusion to absolute glee, as she grasped the concept.

“Exactly!”

“This is so fucked up.” Sasha whispers, but then that shit eating grin is back on her face. “Do it.”

Finding someone in less than three months who’d be willing to go along with your stupid plan seems more impossible than being able to afford an apartment. Even with the help of all of your friends, you’ve nearly given up on the whole thing.

Mikasa was, of course, disappointed in your immaturity and vowed never to let you and Sasha drink by yourselves ever again, so evidently she refused to initially take part in any of it, before she came around and started looking through her friends and family list. Since you’ve known her for nearly 20 years and so all of her friends were also yours and her family practically adopted you, you both knew it would be a futile attempt. Eren and Annie were impressed by the ingenuity, but they simply removed themselves from the whole thing by declaring that “you’re dumb, it’s a stupid idea, leave me out of it. Good luck though!”. Armin even suggested one board game night that he’ll play the part if you’d like, but they all turned to him in various states of amusement and confusion.

“Armin, sweetheart, I appreciate it, but even if no one knew you’re married to Annie, everyone would figure out how whipped you are the moment you look at her.” You finally quipped after laughing hysterically for five minutes straight.

Connie, however, proved to be the most useful. He wriggled his way into your plan like the mastermind he is and proposed installing Tinder as a last resort.

“Con, babe, she had Tinder. She only met creeps on there.” Sasha chides her boyfriend with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, but that time she was actively trying to find a boyfriend.” Connie point out. “You know, trying to persuade someone to actually like her for her, which she obviously failed – ”

“Hey!” You shout from the kitchen, half listening in on the conversation as you’re cooking dinner.

“Because it’s Tinder!” He shouts back, annoyed with the interruption. “This time around, she’ll make it clear in her bio that she’s only there for this reason only and maybe she’ll eventually find someone. You know, because guys are dumb and need to be explained stuff like they are five.”

“I don’t know…” You huff, concentrated on not cutting your fingers.

You are one step away from calling the whole charade quits – the festival will take place in less than two months now and it’s obvious by now that all of your friends and their friends are either in relationships or married. At this point, you might just admit defeat and plan to just get drunk and ignore everyone there besides your friends. Maybe even your friends. There, direct your pettiness to the people who actually love and care about you.

“No, listen, it actually makes sense.” Sasha says as they both make their way into the kitchen to set up the table. “This way, the commitment-phobes won’t be afraid to interact with you because you don’t want a relationship out of them. And the creeps will just leave you alone because you’re making it clear you won’t be a one-night stand.”

“What if there’s a good guy there?!”

“Y/N,” Connie raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tinder. There are only idiots and creeps on there.”

Porco Galliard is everything you hate. He’s mean and annoying and condescending and passive aggressive. He likes to pick on you and make fun of you and doesn’t know how to talk to you without calling you a “clown”, a “dumbass” or “a big fucking baby”. Porco Galliard is also the perfect fake boyfriend you could’ve asked for. Not only is he so fucking attractive it makes you scream (you literally screamed in your pillow for ten minutes straight after you got home that first time you met), he’s even pettier than you are. He was so on board with the idea that he messaged you five seconds after matching with you on Tinder.

How about you find an engagement ring as well and we pretend I just proposed to you?

Motherfucker will be so pissed you said yes to someone else and not him

You appreciated the fact that he didn’t judge you like others did, or told you you’re pathetic and you should just get over your ex and get on with your life. Porco understood that you were over him as a person, you just weren’t over all the hurt he’s put you through. He understood that you just wanted the sweet taste of revenge, just for closure – or maybe just for the sick sake of it. It didn’t matter to him, he thought it’d be funny and that was enough for him.

Porco has become a fixture in your life so quickly, it felt like being hit by a tornado. One day you’re mindlessly swiping Tinder bored out of your mind on your lunch break, and the next you’re texting him constantly. In less than two months, he’s become the first person you talk to in the morning and the last to say good night to.

As irritating and annoying as he is, he’s funny and silly and a whole ass idiot. He calls you out on your bullshit without batting an eye and he’s given you advice and support when you were at your wits’ end because of your job. One moment he’d tell you “God wanted to spice the earth with jokes so he made you” and then the next he’d get worked up over you agreeing with him when you’re feeling especially self-deprecating. He also has superb taste in music, which is great, because you now have ten new playlists that you can choose from depending on your mood. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also so fucking smart, it blows you away every single day.

Porco Galliard is a menace to your life, but you’re so used to him by now that you had no qualms in introducing him to your friends. Mind you, your friends who’ve only ever met your dickhead of an ex, but never anyone else. And yet, you didn’t even have to think about it with Porco. You just shot him a text one evening that you’re cooking for your friends and you’re already tired of the “marital disagreements taking place in your whorehouse” and if he could “please, for the love of Christ, save me from this personal hell”.

He showed up 20 minutes later, two bottles of tequila in his hands and a shit eating grin on his face, without even bothering to reply to your texts.

“Heard you called for your knight in shining armour, dipshit.” He says, kissing your forehead and making his way around you and towards your living room.

Now, all of your friends know of Porco. Connie and Eren even talked to him one time when they came over to fix your new bookshelves and he decided to FaceTime you out of the blue, but none of them actually met him. Which was not surprising in the least. What surprised them is that Porco Galliard is all of a sudden in your living room, acting as if he’s more than familiar with the place and saying hi to everyone. What is truly shocking, is that you don’t look the least fazed about the whole thing – they know your aversion towards them meeting your boyfriends/crushes/male interests, and yet, this time, you act as if Porco has been here the whole time.

“Y/N?” Armin asks, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You shrug, turning back from your way to the kitchen. “This fuckface is Porco. Porco, you introduce yourself to everyone like you don’t have only two braincells left in your head.”

“Y/N!” Mikasa shouts, outraged.

Porco, however, just rolls his eyes. “Every day you say something stupid and I can feel my will to live slipping.”

“I am not going to entertain that empty brain of yours. Make nice!”

“Y/N!” Mikasa shouts again.

Sasha and Connie are giggling, Eren is straight out laughing. While they might all be wary of this new character in their life, they can’t help but admit it’s quite entertaining to see your snide comments directed at someone else. Not to mention, that it’s refreshing to see Porco holding his own, and even beating you at your own game. Most people would just think you’re rude and disrespectful, others would believe you a straight up asshole. You’re an acquired taste that not everyone tolerates. Porco, however, seems to revel in every single one of your insults, like he’s waiting for them.

“I’m honestly thinking of selling you on eBay.”

“You have a crush on him.” Mikasa deadpans the night before the big day.

Y/N was just explaining her plan for the last time to her best friend on the phone, while Porco was at the gym (“gotta look pumped and ready for you, baby”). You needed a distraction, since you’ve been having jitters for the past couple of days. You didn’t understand why exactly, it’s not like you didn’t anticipate for the moment of seeing your ex again for the past months, and it definitely wasn’t the excitement for the festival. That’s just a subdued buzz in your head, but there are butterflies and it makes you feel giddy and happy and –

“I do not.” You scoff. “He’s mean to me and we both agreed this is just a one time thing. We might stay friends after this, but I know he’s not interested in me in that way in the least.”

“Okay, do you want me to put on my psychologist’s glasses? Should we unpack that entire bullshit that just came out of your mouth?”

You can practically hear the way she rolls her eyes. It’s disgusting. Sometimes you wish she didn’t know you this well. But you let her talk, nonetheless, because this is why you called her after all. To help you bring some clarity to your jumbled thoughts.

“He’s not mean to you, he’s abrasive in general. That’s just his personality. We’ve met him and truthfully, you’re the only one out of us he was the most aggressive towards. I’m putting that one on the fact that he doesn’t know how to cope with the attraction he feels towards you. His first intentions were most probably aligned to the rules you set, that is fake date for one evening, no strings attached – which was a stupid idea in the first place, if I may reiterate. I’d say, based on the way he’s acting around you and the way he’s changed his way of interacting with you lately, he’s feeling insecure and doesn’t want to show it. Plus, I’m betting he hasn’t realised it yet, either.”

There’s silence on both ends of the phone for a long period of time, to the point where Mikasa has to check whether you hung up. You, however, are chewing on your bottom lip, eyes glazed over. Mikasa couldn’t possibly be right. You refuse to let yourself be sucked into the fantasy of Porco actually liking you. You’ve made that mistake before, and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Mikasa might have made a great psychologist, but she’s a lawyer. There’s no way she knows what she’s talking about, right? There’s no way Porco seemed so happy to see you yesterday when he came to pick you up from work because he likes you, right? There’s no way Porco ordered food for you when you couldn’t meet up because he likes you, right? There’s no way he calls you a dumbass with a smile on his face whenever your ADHD kicks in because he likes you, right? Mikasa doesn’t know all the sweet stuff he does for you, she’s only talking from the point of view where he’s being mean. So if she knew how sweet he can be to you, her whole hypothesis would crumble, right?

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, waking up from your trance.

“I’m not saying I’m right, though.” She tentatively offers, knowing she has to tread lightly now. “I’m just saying that he might like you. I don’t want to give you false hope, because I know how you can throw yourself headfirst into a crush. I think it would be better if you’d just openly discuss it with him. You’re both adults, you can handle that.”

“I can’t talk to him about this now, Mika! How am I supposed to pretend I’m head over heels for him if he rejects me tonight?”

“Not tonight, but you should do it after this whole charade is up. I also don’t think either of you will be pretending.”

Pock

I just said your name!

That’s not my name

That’s the only stupid ass nickname your bird brain could come up with

I’m blocking you

Then who’s going to kiss you and hold you and be all mushy and shit with you all night if you do that, babe?

Ew never call me that ever again, that is disgustin

What? Babe? You don’t like me calling you babe?

What am I supposed to call you tonight then?

I can’t just call you dipshit

Bonehead

Dingbag

You can just call me by my name?

Cue lil nas x

But no, we’re gonna make this believable

How are we going to make it believable if I call you by your name?

Don’t all couples have those disgusting nicknames for each other

What did your ex call you

Babe

How about something French

Why would

You’re gonna call me something like baguette or fromage or some shit like that

Grenouille

You’re not calling me frog!!!!!

But you’re like a frog

A cute frog

Small and stupid

I hate you

Do you really

I specifically remember you drunk last Friday and asking me to talk in French for like half an hour

It’s not like you don’t speak French either!

Yeah, but you have the accent

I’m half French dumbass

Exactly

It’s hot

So you think I’m hot?

Oh shit! Look at the time! I have to walk my refrigerator!

You’re a fucking clown you know that

But fr you should go get ready tho

I’ll pick you up in an hour

Au revoir, ma petite grenouille

I must resist the urge to kill you

Or fuck me

I’d pick the latter

You climb into Porco’s car, careful not to slam the door too hard – last time you did, Porco took you on the highway and drove so much past the speed limit you punched him for five minutes straight afterwards. He didn’t even react to your punches, he just stood there, rolling his eyes. You, however, swore to never hurt his precious car again, or you’re sure he’s going to hurt you.

“You look like a whore.” You deadpan when your eyes land on him.

He’s wearing his dark jeans and most probably those black sneakers he was so excited about buying last week. His hair is slicked back as always, his undercut freshly trimmed, but his biceps are in front view and you can even see his goddamned ribs because he’s wearing a white fucking muscle tank top. You hate him. You truly, genuinely, from the bottom of your heart hate him in this moment, because how the fuck is your brain supposed to be ready to bring your ex to the ground when you see this? When this dipshit will be standing next to you and all you will think about is muscles and skin and veins and a peek of that stupid tattoo on his ribcage?

“Are you slutshaming me, you dweeb?” He laughs, eyes never leaving the road.

You’re definitely not paying more attention to the way his forearms look extended towards the wheel than to what new word he’s using to insult you. Nope.

“No, I just thought I’ll be the only one who’s dressed inappropriately.”

“Y/N, we’re going to a festival in July when it’s hot as Satan’s asscrack. Plus you can always wear whatever you want.”

“Pock, you do realise I’m a woman and that last statement makes zero sense to me, right?”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He smirks. “I know how to fight. Actually, let them even dare look in your direction for too long. I was wating for a reason to punch someone.”

“You can’t just punch someone because they’re looking at me, Galliard!” You yell.

“I can if it makes you uncomfortable. Plus, you’re mine so they should know their place.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. That sentence shouldn’t make your butterflies swirl in the pit of your stomach. It shouldn’t bring forth images of Porco kissing you and holding your hand and playing with your hair and him hovering over you as he’s thrusting – nOPE.

“You mean in this made-up scenario, right?” You say, trying to remind yourself that this is fake. This is all fake.

“Yeah.” He mutters. You’re not sure whether he’s squinting his eyes in concentration or something else. “You’re mine in this made-up scenario, sweetheart.”

The night is uneventful in the sense that you’ve somehow managed not to bump into anyone you’d like to vomit on. You don’t know whether he just isn’t there tonight or he simply hasn’t had the chance to find you. In all honesty, you have been dancing far away from the bars for a reason and you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t venture directly into the thickest parts of the crowds. Maybe he’s simply not seeking you out.

You, however, are having the time of your life. It’s not only because you’re slightly drunk, Porco having made sure to switch you on water whenever he saw you’d start derailing into a hot mess. But you’re surrounded by the people you love, laughing and screaming with them on music you all grew up on. Simply put, you’re enjoying yourself and you’ve started to forget your stupid plan. It’s easy to do so when Porco puts his hands on your waist or on your hips to dance with you, or when he kisses your forehead in passing, or when he’d hug you with no apparent reason. At first, you thought he’s initiating contact because he might see someone making their way towards you and you’d instantly tense under his touch. You’d prepare for the worst, ready to play a charade in front of someone you realise you don’t actually want to see after all. But after a few hours, you’ve started to relax and welcome every lingering hand on your body or his lips on your skin.

It's nearing midnight and you decide to take a break at one of the tables set in front of the food trucks. A small part of your brain is telling you to be on high alert, since you’re in the open now, but it’s easy to dismiss it when Sasha comes back with three hot dogs and two sides of fries. Connie and Armin are close behind her with more food in tow and you realise just how hungry all the dancing and alcohol have made you.

“Where’s Pock?” You ask Annie when she makes her own appearance with a few bottles of beer in her hands.

“He was right behind me. Maybe he went to take a piss.” She shrugs.

You look around the huge field, but since it’s filled with people and strobing lights and music drowns out everything, it’s hard to distinguish anyone. You shake your head – you’re being crazy, maybe he did just go to the bathroom. You told him where you’re going when you split up from the dance area, he’ll find his way back to you.

But then fifteen minutes pass and you’ve finished a burger and a whole bottle of beer and he’s still nowhere to be seen. What if he found some chick who he hit it off with and decided to ditch this whole idiocy?

“Hey!” Eren shouts over the music, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Relax. Just send him a text, maybe he got lost.”

You nod. Your overthinking habit will be the end of you someday. Eren is right. There’s an easy way out of your spiralling thoughts and you haven’t even considered it.

Wya galliard

His reply comes a few seconds later. You exhale in relief, you really were being crazy.

Awwww did you miss me, baby?

Fuck that. He can go fuck himself. You’re about to go look for your friends who’ve disappeared back into the dancing mass when your phone vibrates in your hand again.

Look behind you, you dumbass

You turn around, only to be faced with a huge ass chest. He’s towering over you, a grin plastered all over his face. He looks so smug, so cocky, so full of his damn self you want to punch him. Or kiss him. Whatever would wipe that smirk off.

You open your mouth to demand answers and his exact location for the past fifteen minutes, as if you definitely aren’t drunk off your ass right now and most obviously aren’t being crazy and dramatic. Truth be told, you did miss him. It was weird not having him around, even if it was for such a short period of time. But before you can say anything, he takes a flower crown from where he was hiding it behind his back, and gingerly places it on your head.

“I thought you left.” You mumble, bunching his top in your fists. At this point, you don’t really care whether he’ll be mad about it. You can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckles and covers your hands with his. “I realise now you had too much time to think and that small brain of yours can’t yet comprehend words like an adult.”

“Fuck you, Galliard.”

“Not until you get it into that thick skull of yours that I won’t be leaving you.”

He pushes a finger into your forehead, but you’re more confused by his words, than anything else. And then suddenly, his whole demeanour changes. He snakes his hands around your waist and places his head close to yours. It might look like he’s kissing your neck, but you can feel how tense he feels around you.

“Your ex is Floch fucking Forster?”

“Yeah.”

He prods you to place your arms around his shoulders, and you do it slowly. You’re confused as to what could have brought this about. You’re not surprised he found out your ex’s name – maybe Eren and Connie were shit talking him again and let the name slip. It’s not like his name is a state secret, you just hate saying it. But you don’t understand why he seems on edge all of a sudden, holding you a bit too tightly, his frown even deeper, his scowl even more disgusted.

“Wait, you know him?” You say, when the only possible explanation finally clicks into your alcohol addled mind.

“Yeah, I fucking know him. You should’ve told me it’s him!”

“I told you what he looks like! How was I supposed to know you know him?”

“Do you know how little ‘creepy smile and a fucking scumbag’ narrows it down for me, honey?” He sneers. “I used to play professional rugby, that was like half of my team.”

You lean back, forcing him to let go of you. You can’t breathe from how hard he’s squeezing you to his chest. But he keeps his hands firmly planted on your waist, far enough to give you some semblance of space, but close enough so you can still smell the beer on his breath. Porco is angry, but apparently not at you. He’s looking at something behind you, and sure, he has a fucking resting bitch face, but it’s nothing compared to thisscowl.

You’re about to turn around, already having an inkling of what might have happened, when he pulls you back into him. Porco rests his forehead on yours, bringing one of his large hands to the back of your head, keeping you in place. You’re so close at the moment, you feel like you could mould into one person.

“I swear to fuck, I’m going to kill this motherfucker.” He kisses your cheek and you can feel his maniacal grin on your skin. What the fuck is going on. “You trust me, yes?”

“Yeah?” You reply, unsure at the moment whether you should be scared or excited by this whole new Porco.

“Good. Because it’s gametime, baby.”

He slowly releases you from his grip, and you can read the encouragement in his golden eyes. He curtly nods, enough just for you to notice. You take a deep breath in, already feeling your resolve slipping, but then he’s taking your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together and you feel like you could look the devil in the eye and spit in his face. Which you’re just about to do, really.

“Y/N?”

His voice sounds so familiar and yet so strange. Funny how time can alter someone in ways that you both recognise and completely forget someone you’ve spent years with. He’s still his lean self, yet bigger and smaller at the same time – like he’s put on even more muscles, but looks weaker, more diminished. Or maybe he’s not holding the power over you anymore. His hair is longer and he’s lost some of that baby fat, but he’s wearing that shirt you bought him for his 23rd birthday. He might seem surprised to see you – and yet you know how he’s calculating all the possible outcomes of this interaction at the speed of light in his mind right now.

And then his eyes land on Porco. Porco, whose arm is around your waist now, Porco who has just kissed your temple and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, Porco who hands you his beer bottle, as if sharing drinks is the most normal thing to do, Porco who pulls you even closer to him when Floch takes a step toward you.

You watch the way Floch assesses the whole situation – see his eyes land from your flower crown, to Porco’s arm, to your own in the back pocket of his jeans. You see the way his façade cracks for just a second, the way his anger slips to the surface. And you have to remind yourself that even though that anger might be directed at you, he can’t do anything to you anymore. You have Porco, and most importantly, you’re not his puppet anymore – you can stand up for yourself now.

“Galliard.” Floch says instead of all the insults you were expecting. “What are you doing here?”

“What, Forster?” Porco laughs nonchalantly. “Am I not allowed to enjoy the festival with my girlfriend?”

And there – the bomb has dropped. And it’s the first time in your life you see Floch speechless. You see the way his mind shuts down at the complete impossibility of this situation, even though the show you were putting on should’ve been enough. As if he needed Porco’s verbal confirmation to process what he’s seeing.

“Your girlfriend?” The man scoffs, having regained his ability to spit bullshit in no time. Gotta give it to him, he sure believes he’s the only one in this world whose truth matters. “Y/N, what is this guy saying?”

“I don’t exactly understand what you’re asking, Floch.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t seriously tell me you’re dating Galliard.”

Floch laughs and the sound grates on your brain. You’re not sure whether you’re getting worked up over seeing him and having all the memories resurface or the fact that he doesn’t believe someone would actually want to date you. Maybe it’s both. Or maybe it’s the way he says Porco’s name that rubs you the wrong way. You figured that there’s some kind of beef between them, but like hell will you let him disrespect Porco.

“Oh, so you’ve lost the ability to understand English?” Porco interjects, before you have the chance to even open your mouth. He can feel the way you’re vibrating with tension right now, and he’s not sure whether he’ll let you claw Forster’s eyes out while he’s cheering you on or punch him to a pulp himself.

“Pock.” You say, placing a hand on his chest.

Floch has taken yet another step forward just as Porco did, but you’re not about to be witness to a blood bath. At least not in the literal sense, if you can help it. Porco, thankfully, looks down at you and simply clenches his jaw. You wanted this fight, he’ll let you have it.

“Yes, Floch, I am dating Porco.” You say, turning your cold gaze towards your ex. “I have been happy in this relationship for nearly six months and he hasn’t been anything but kind, loving and respectful towards me. He’s my best friend and I honestly can say I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Now if you could please leave us alone, I’d like to get back to dancing.”

You can feel Porco’s stare on you, but you do your best to keep your expression even. You haven’t discussed any of the possible things you might say to Floch when you’d see him, simply because you didn’t know what you’ll say in the moment. Maybe it shouldn’t have been anything along the lines of ‘for the rest of your life’ though. However, you don’t want to let any uncertainty show, any insecurity you might have on how this whole shitshow will play out after Floch leaves, any fear that you’ll never get to see Porco ever again after tonight.

Floch, on the other hand, does nothing more than to roll his eyes. You know what he’s thinking: he still believes you’ll never find anyone better than him. Still believes you’ve broken up with the only person in the world who would give you the time of day. As if you should’ve been grateful beyond belief that such an amazing human being deigned to look down upon you.

“Spare me the crap, Y/N. We all know he’s probably just fucking you because he’s bored. You always romanticise every little shit in your life.”

“Listen here, you waste of human space.” Porco bites, ignoring the way you’re tugging at his shirt. He’s had enough and no matter how much he’d want to let you win this, he can’t help but to speak his own mind. “The fact that you couldn’t see what a brilliant person Y/N is and you’re now bitter and mad she broke up with you is your own fucking problem. I’m not fucking her because I’m bored, we are fucking because we love each other. Last time I heard, you were fucking Yelena at graduation when you apparently had a sweet and loving girlfriend waiting for you at home, so you spare me the condescending tone.”

“I didn’t fuck her at graduation, you asshole. My parents were there!” Floch spits as he’s approaching Porco. They’re now one punch away from each other, which only makes Porco step in front of you.

“Oh right, I’m sorry. I must have her confused with all the girls you’ve fucked at every single party you’ve attended for three years in college.” Porco sneers, nostrils flaring.

“ENOUGH!” You scream, all the pent-up rage pouring out of you in waves. A few party goers turn towards you in confusion, but they simply disappear in another direction, too afraid to be part of what looks like a fight in the making. Porco and Floch look down at you, as if surprised you’re still here. You don’t care. You truly, honestly, genuinely do not give a shit about anyone in this moment.

“Enough!” You sneer again. “I do not give one single fuck who you’ve fucked or haven’t fucked when we were together, Floch. All I can say, from the bottom of my heart, is that I regret ever loving you. I don’t regret meeting you, I regret ever loving you. You disgust me. You’ve manipulated me into being the perfect little girlfriend for you by chipping away at my personality every single day. Every single day. Slowly and diligently. You’ve belittled me every step of the way and disrespected me as if I were a shit stain on the sole of your shoe. You thoroughly and completely disgust me and I wish I will never have to set my eyes upon you for the rest of my life. I would wish you a happy life, but that would be a fucking lie. I hope you get to suffer at least an ounce of what you’ve put me through for years just to see what a wretched little creature you actually are.”

You turn on your heel and walk away towards the exit. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is curl into a ball in your bed and cry your stupid heart out. Floch can go fuck himself, you truly meant every word you said to him, and as cathartic as that was, you’re still not sure how much good will do to you in the long run. One thing you’re certain of: playing pretend at girlfriend and boyfriend with Porco was a fucking mistake.

[01:13] wya

[01:15] hey dipshit you just disappeared where are you

[01:16] are you with everyone else?

[01:18] I just bumped into sasha and she said she hasn’t seen you

[01:19] Y/N please I’m getting worried where are you

[2 missed calls]

[01:23] eren texted me and said they took you to their place for the night

[01:24] are you ok?

[01:24] please just talk to me

[3 missed calls]

[01:25] Y/N please

[1 missed call]

[01:46] Mikasa called me

[01:46] I’m so sorry

[01:47] Y/N, sweetheart, please I’m so sorry I didn’t realise what an absolute dickhead I was being

[01:48] I’ve met forster in college and he was a complete douchebag even then

[01:49] I had no idea he was your ex and I went like a fucking bull in a china shop into that whole situation bc I’ve hated him for so long

[01:50] I’ll explain everything, just please answer me

[02:13] please I just need to know you’re safe at least

[02:15] I’m staying over at Mika’s and Eren’s tonight. I’m safe.

[02:15] ok good I’m glad

[02:15] I’ll talk to you tomorrow and explain everything, ok?

[02:16] I’m sorry

You wake up at 8 in the morning the next day. You’ve barely slept, having either cried in Mikasa’s arms or silently sobbed into your pillow the whole night. You should’ve known the whole idea was a mistake, and even Mikasa had the mercy to spare you the ‘I told you so’ speech. You just wanted to go home and curl back into your bed. You didn’t have the energy to talk about it anymore and you definitely didn’t have the mental capacity to watch Mikasa and Eren interact as a whole ass married couple today. So you’ve prepared the coffee pot for the two of them for when they wake up and sent Mikasa a quick text that you went home, before leaving.

The already suffocating air does nothing to your mood and you quicken your pace. You’ve never felt more grateful than now that your friends live only five blocks away. The moment you step out of the elevator, however, you’re faced with an image you couldn’t have predicted even if you had a crystal ball, a tarot deck and a fistful of incense. Porco is leaning on the wall next to your door, two coffee cups in his hands. He straightens up when he sees you and for a second you don’t know how to react.

“What are you doing here, Porco?” You finally sigh, and move to unlock your door.

“Mikasa sent me a text that you’re on your way home so I brought you coffee.”

You let him inside, although all the time wondering whether it wouldn’t just be easier if you’d just lock the door in his face. He follows you to the living room, where you curl yourself into a ball on your couch. Porco just places the coffee on the table and sits down, close enough so your feet would touch his thigh.

“You live half an hour away by car.” You mutter, refusing to look up at him.

“I drove here last night after I sobered up.”

“Did you just stand next to my door like a fucking creep all night?” You can feel the rage boiling to the surface yet again. You watch him nearly placing his hand on your calf in appeasement – he’d do that whenever you’d start getting agitated, but thankfully he doesn’t this time. You’d have probably just kicked him out if he did.

“No, I waited in the car. And when Mikasa told me you’d be coming home, I went to that coffeehouse around the corner you like and bought you coffee. Then that nice lady on the 7thfloor let me in the building when she was leaving to go to the market.”

“You know an awful lot about my neighbours.” You mumble, but at least you’ve sat up and picked up your cup, now that you know it’s not poisoned.

“I’ve been here enough times to meet some of them.” He smiles. “And she told me she’s going to the market. She also asked me to take care of you.” He adds lowly, looking at you.

It’s weird seeing Porco so serious and sad at the same time. It’s weird not calling you some shitty name every three sentences. And talking to you like you’re made of glass. You don’t like pity. And you are still filled with rage so no wonder you’re extra irrational today.

“Why would you take care of me, Porco? Do you think I’m such a damsel in distress that I can’t take care of my own fucking self? Do you think I’m so weak and stupid I can’t function without someone else taking decisions for me?”

“I think you should eat something and go back to sleep.”

“For fuck’s sake, Galliard! Why the fuck are you here?” You shout, fed up with his whole behaviour.

You want old Porco back, as much as you hate to admit it. You want funny and mean Porco back, who doesn’t beat around the bush and would tell you you’re an idiot, without a second thought. You want Porco who always tell you the truth. You don’t like this version of Porco. You want your Porco.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!” He shouts back. There he is. “D’you wanna know why I’m here? I’m here because I wanted to make sure you’re ok. I wanted to make sure you eat and drink some water and you’re not crying in a puddle on the floor. I wanted to hold you in my arms and apologise for putting my foot in my mouth last night like a dickhead because I was too blinded by my animosity towards Forster to realise that was your battle to fight. I’m here because I wanted to say sorry I agreed to this whole stupid ass plan in the first place because I didn’t realise it wouldn’t change anything and nothing good will come out of it. I wanted to come here and tell you that I don’t want to fake date you, I want to actually date you and I want to call you mine for real, and not just pretend.”

Porco is breathing heavily at this point and there’s a few strands of his gelled back hair that fell into his face. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer that doesn’t seem to come. You’re still holding your coffee cup, and you did want to hear him say what he’s actually thinking, but you sure as hell did not expect this.

“Right.” He mutters, pushing back his hair. “I’ll get going then.”

“What the fuck are you on about, Galliard? Sit the fuck down.” You bark.

The shock on his face is priceless, and you’d seriously give up an arm to be able to bottle it up and see it every time it strikes your fancy. But what’s important is that your aggression has its desired effect and he sits back down. You take one of his hands in yours and sigh for what feels like the hundredth time today. All before 9 am and with no coffee in your system.

“Porco…” You start, but have no idea what else to say.

“Yeah?” He tries prodding you to continue.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m well aware of that, you clown.” Porco rolls his eyes. “You have to be more specific as to the reason why.”

“I’m not good with words.” You mutter.

“You were amazing with words last night, honey.”

You both flinch at the memory. Neither of you wants to think about the altercation with Floch. Least of all you.

“’m sorry. I’ll just shut up.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best, Galliard.” You sigh. “The whole thing was a mistake, yeah. I’m happy it happened though for two reasons. One, I realised I needed that closure to finally move on with my life. And two, it brought me you.”

Porco squeezes your hand. You look at each other in silence and stay like that for too many minutes to count, until you let out an involuntary yawn, making Porco chuckle. He sends you off to take a shower, because “in all honesty, you’re stinky. I have no idea how Mikasa let you sleep in her guest bedroom without forcing you to clean yourself with bleach first”. You want to complain, but the moment the warm water hits your body, you sag into the feeling of all your worries and sadness being washed away.

As you get out of the bathroom and watch Porco put a sandwich on a plate, you realise you’re…calm. Maybe not happy entirely, but there are no dark clouds on the horizon. You’re simply here, with Porco in your kitchen as he softly hums something familiar under his breath, not caring about what your next step should be. Just living.

He doesn’t notice you until your arms snake around his torso, as you pull him towards you, leaning your head in the space between his shoulder blades. He stops wiping the counter and places a hand over yours. You stay like that in silence, yet again, until he brings your fingertips to his mouth and kisses each and every one of them.

“I think I love you.” He whispers and if it weren’t for the vibrations under your cheek, you could’ve sworn you dreamt it.

Your breath hitches in your throat, unsure of whether you were supposed to hear that or not. Porco turns around and pulls you back into him by your hips, as he leans on the counter. He’s smiling and it’s such a rare sight, you almost forget his last words.

“I’m sure you heard me, dumbass.” He chuckles.

“Oh, I thought you were talking to the coffee pot again.” You grin.

“Stop deflecting talking about feelings with jokes, you fuck.”

“You better get used to it, dummy. That’s all you’re gonna get from now on. Bad jokes and – “

Porco cuts off your next words by pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and easy as breathing. It’s tender and sweet like the taste of coffee on his tongue. It’s the smile you can feel against your mouth and it’s the quick pecks that keep coming, even after you stop for air. It’s the way he looks down at you as if you’ve hung the moon.

“Uh – “ You start, momentarily forgetting words, until you settle on the easiest, with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“Shit, baby.” He laughs. “If I knew I had to kiss you to finally compliment me I would’ve done it sooner.”

“Nevermind, you look like a fucking troll.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You told me you love me. Too late, bitch, you’re stuck with me now.”

“What’s the return policy? I’d like a refund.”

“Do you want a refund on my love?” You pout and there – that is the look you’d give an arm to bottle up and see every single day for the rest of your life. That completely dazed look when he hears you say, “I love you too, Pock.”

So I’ve been thinking

Oh no

Did it hurt your brain? Are you ok? Should I call an ambulance?

You know, one of these days I’ll just call child protection services and ask them to take you away

Who you gonna fuck then

Eren

He’s hot as fuck

Wow no hesitation

That man’s ridiculously hot and you know it

ANYWAY

It’s ok dipshit, no need to get jealous

You’re the only one I want to fuck

ANYWAY????

I wasn’t going to talk about how much I love you jeesh calm tf down you weirdo

Are you going to get to the point one of these days or should I just wait for my menopause to get back to this chat

You’re insufferable

I was thinking we should get fake married

????

Much confusion

Explain

Well, in order to start dating we had to fake date first

So I thought that in order to get married, we’ll have to get fake married first

Brilliant train of thought, Galliard

I am proud of you

We are never having babies

They might inherit your stupidity

I’m cutting off toxic people in my life and you are the first on the list

Is this your way of asking me to marry you?

I’m not gonna ask you to marry me through text you fucking clown

I’m just testing the waters

See what you’re gonna say

What if you’ll say no

And break my heart

Even after two whole ass years of dating and living together

Come home and ask me face to face, you pussy

I’m still at work

Wanna know the answer or not?

Omw

Did you buy me a ring?

Well I didn’t think I’d be proposing TODAY??????

We’re sorry, the number you have texted is unavailable. Please try again when your brain starts functioning again.

You know what

Nevermind

I don’t wanna marry you anymore

POCK, BABY NOOOOO I WAS JOKING

Grenouille

Cute

But small and stupid

I’ll be home in 10

#porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x you #porco x you #porco galliard x y/n #porco x y/n

294 notes · View notes

randynova · 3 years

Note

Poor Petal, she must have had a panic attack when she found out she was pregnant for the first time.

She was downright terrified.

She broke down crying, screaming into her pillow, refusing to let Doma hold or console her. Surprisingly, he left her alone, letting her deal with her emotions on her own.

The only words he left her was, "Oh, [Name], I'm so happy. Soon, we're going to be parents, my sweet pretty petal!"

[Name] just couldn't understand how this happened. She was careful, so diligent in taking the tea every night. She began racking her mind, trying to make sense of it all, and search for a possibility why this small mistake occurred.

Until she recalled two months prior, where Doma's insatiable hunger for his wife consumed him. Like an animal in heat, he forced himself on her, ignoring her pleas to stop, releasing his fertile seed deep into her womb. Over and over again, he made sure every night she was filled with his cum, having the sole mission to make her bear his children.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma had to travel southward for demon duties and he felt this was the perfect opportunity for you both to get closer. A whole week together, all alone while he was free from his duties, a chance to finally have some quality bonding time without his cult. It was a dream come true.

However, this place was in the middle of nowhere, hardly any villages, let alone stores, around. All the sources you used to protect yourself from Doma were gone, the foods and teas you consumed to prevent a pregnancy out of reach.

The only people around were fellow upper moons, who stayed far away from your husband, especially you.

Thus, you were forced to endure his doting behavior, forced to play his dangerous games, and forced to let him breed you.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

"Pretty petal. So pretty, so beautiful. You're taking me so well, hah," Doma laughs, snapping his hips harshly, thick balls slapping against your skin. You bounced with every thrust, mewling and whimpering, begging him to slow down. It only stirred him on to go faster. "No, no, no, this is the best way to ensure maximum success with fertilizing you. I have to make sure my seed is as deep as possible inside you, my petal!"

The aching between your legs grew, arching your back as an orgasm washes over you once again. Your juices release over his thick cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your velvet walls constrict around him. "Ah! Ah, D-Doma!"

"Mm, hngh! P-petal! Petal! Petal! " Doma whines out, biting his bottom lip, grinning like a madman as the sweet relief of climax fast approaches him. His thrusts turn sloppy and his hips stutter. Quickly, he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty for a few seconds. He grabs your legs, hooking his arms around your knees, and pushes your thighs to your chest, claws digging into your plush skin as he starts to hammer into you. "So-so good! Such a good girl! You'll be such a good mother, sweet petal! Just you wait! I'll make you a mommy, ok? Just- fuck!"

He releases long, thick ropes of cum, painting your womb white with his fertile seed once more. He thrusts weakly, head falling back as he gasps. "Mm, ah-ah, [N-Name]...!" You squeeze your eyes shut, looking to the side, swallowing bitterly as he fills you to the brim, cum leaking out as he slides in and out. It drips onto the bed, staining the pristine, red cotton sheets.

"Oh, petal, please don't look away. I want to see you," Doma croons, pulling out with a shaky breath and looking down at the mess between your legs with a grin. White painted the sheets below like a puddle. He pulls out with a groan. Seeing the way your pussy gushes out his cum, flexing around nothing, it makes him want to take you all over again. He slides two fingers up across your folds, gathering his seed, and pushing it back into your sopping hole with his fingertips. He hums whilsts you whine, rocking your hips at the weird sensation. "Such a pretty sight, you took me so well, petal. I'm so proud of you!"

He's met with silence. Though, it doesn't bother him as he already fulfilled his task for the night. After five long rounds, he believes its enough for the day and he'll repeat the process tomorrow. For now, both of you need rest, we'll, mainly you if you're going to stay awake during the whole ordeal.

You were in a daze as Doma cleaned both you and himself up, changing the sheets into soft clean ones, and covering your body with the blankets, tucking it in.

"Good night, my pretty wife," Doma whispers, taking his spot beside you, his arms slithering around your frame and pulling you close. His chest pressed against your nude back, his legs tangling in yours, and he buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath of your sweet aroma. "I love you..."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Immediately after coming back from your journey, Doma became busy, his schedule packed to the brim with orders from his master. It irritated him, saddened him even, that he would be apart from you for a while.

As much as he loved ravishing your body every night, he had to focus on completing every task with precise accuracy. He doesn't want to disappoint his master after all.

But before he left you alone the first night back, he replaced your assigned follower with a different one. One that reported back to him and carried out his orders, their loyalty to the demon overriding their morals to protect you.

He wasn't stupid. It didn't take long for him to figure out the tea you drank prevented you from becoming pregnant, a huge change to the tea he got to make you fertile. The news did upset him, but he hid the discovery and played along with your little antics. It made him try to come up with a solution, where he disguised the tea you drank to better fit his wishes.

Like an unsuspecting mouse, you walked right into the cat's claws.

Anyone who tried helping you was either eaten by Doma or killed by him in another manner. If the actions of a stupid, disloyal follower was keeping him away from his dream of having a family, the demon won't hesitate to get rid of them. They should know better.

Doma's dreams are his followers' orders.

If he says he dreamt of eating a hundred virgins, his followers should offer him the bountiful feast of meat from a hundred virgins.

If he says he dreamt of growing his cult, his followers should go out and recruit people to join them.

Now, if he says he dreams of a child with his wife, his followers should offer their help and make sure he gets his child.

By god, did they live up to his expectations for once. Everyone - from the ones who prepared your meals to the new members who brought you gifts - made sure every small action built up to the final wish of their leader's plan.

Every food and drink you consumed had been carefully chosen to help make you plump and help the baby grow. Every bath had been filled with excotic herbs to soothe your changing body. Every offering had slowly been gearing towards a human smaller than you. Yet, you never really paid attention to the small differences.

Doma noticed how tired you seem lately, how you complained to the follower assigned to you about the tenderness of your breast and the pain of your abdominal and pelvis area, and even how different you looked, almost glowing.

At first, he didn't put the pieces together. Surely all women were like this, right? Yet, that wasn't the case.

He found himself always wondering why your emotions were easily more unhinged, why you ate the foods he hand-fed you more easily, or why you were napping in the afternoon. Yes, he liked these changes and welcomed them eagerly, believing you were finally warming up to him. But why?

After nearly six weeks, you were worried why your period didn't come. You speculated the stress could have been a prominent factor in causing your late cycle, sometimes occurring in your youth. You seem bloated lately as well, you note, or it could've been weight gain due to the food you have been eating lately. Thus you brushed it off.

It'll come soon, you just know it. Afterall, you're still a human and change is a part of life.

In another area of the temple, a different situation was unfolding. When the trusted follower reported to Doma about your very late menstrual cycle, he clapped with joy like a child being entertained. Of course! How slow can he be?! You finally are carrying his child! The hormonal changes affected how you behaved with him and the sudden weight gain explained it all.

Oh, he just couldn't wait for the day to come!

However...

He had to make sure you did nothing irresponsible to push back his dream.

Doma became more strict and possessive with you. He didn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if you were in the privacy of your room, someone had to be there.

The days where you spent waiting for him in your bedroom were now spent at his side. He forced you to sit on his lap like before, feeding you more than you're used to. Any question concerning his increase of doting behavior was met with a laugh and a kiss to your cheek. "I just love you so much, I want you to be healthy!"

Doma isn't stupid. He knew the moment he mentioned, or even insinuated, you were pregnant, you would break down and possibly affect the baby negatively. He didn't know if you were capable of taking drastic measures of getting rid of it this far along, but he didn't want to find out.

With careful, watchful eyes, Doma made sure everyday you were fed well, that you were always protected, and made sure nothing upset you. He went the extra mile to find medicine and herbs incase you ever fell ill. The demon made sure your attention was always occupied to keep from noticing your changing body.

To say it worked was an understatement.

By the fifth month, you realized despite your growing stomach, you weren't gaining weight anywhere else. Most of your clothes fit like a glove except around your abdomen.

Your heart began to race as you wracked your mind of the events for the past few months.

When was the last time you had gotten your period?

You don't recall changing your sheets every month because you stained it, nor do you recall dealing with the hassle of keeping yourself clean. Come to think of it, you felt at ease these past few months, the usual cramps and cravings you felt no longer bothering you like before.

Ridding yourself of your clothes, slipping your kimono off until you're left in your undergarments of hadajyuban and susuyoke. You undid your sash and revealed your stomach. You're met with the sight of your bulging tummy and tender breasts. Pressing a finger pad to the skin of your stomach, it seemed firm instead of soft and plush. With a shaky breath, you pressed your palms against your stomach and...

Kick. Kick.

You removed your hands immediately, face falling. No...

No. No! No! No!

How didn't you notice it before!?

Your chest fell and rose quickly with every breath you took, hyperventilating as the situation dawned on you. You were pregnant. Actually pregnant with that damn demon's child. A bellowing scream ripped from your throat, the high-pitch intensity resonating like shattering glass throughout the temple.

Doma raced to your bedroom, fearing the worse as he heard his wife scream. He ran into the bedroom, only to be met with your form bawling on the floor, hunched over as sobs wracked your body. Followers tried to console you, yet you ignored them.

Doma approached you carefully and crouched down, but the moment he put a hand on your back, you whipped your head and cracked your hand across his face like a whip. He fell back, catching himself, shock etched into his features. You... You hit him? He paid no mind to the followers who raced to his side, asking him if he was okay. He was more surprised you dared slap him.

The stinging of his cheek didn't hurt , but it caught him off guard. He looked up and leered at you with wide eyes. Yet he clashed with the burning, sorrowful gaze you held.

"Fuck you! Goddamnit, leave me alone, you monster! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!" You screech, standing up and burying your face in your hands. Tears slipped through your fingers and dripped to the floor.

Doma smiled, finally understanding why you were reacting the way you were. He began chuckling, then giggling, and then he broke into a fit of laughter. He stood up and held a hand to his face, looking at you with a crazed, delighted expression on his face. Gleefully, he spoke, "Oh, petal! You finally caught on!"

You shake your head and begin crying louder, turning your back to the demon. "No, no, no...," you whimper.

"We're going to be parents...," Doma croons, taking small, quiet steps towards you. Like before, he tries pulling you close but you brush him off.

"Please... Please, just leave me alone...!"

"Oh, [Name], you'll see. Once our baby is here, you'll love being a mommy. Just like I'll love being a papa...!"

"No... I didn't want this...."

"But I did! I told you for so long...," Doma whispers, uncomfortably close to you. He lets out a breathy laugh. "And now that you're finally with child, I'm going to make sure I see my baby no matter what."

You could only stand in horror, listening to his voice. The panic crawled up your throat, fear taking hold of you as you froze up. With bated breath, you wait for him to leave. But his next words made your heart drop and blood run cold.

"I'm willing to do anything for our child, [Name]. Even if it means I may have to hurt you to guarantee their safe arrival."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma is not submissive and breedable. He is dominant and fertile.

He finally has his wish of having a family with the woman he loves.

And he'll do anything to make it come true.

Even if it means he has to become the monster and hurt you to get it.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, ��𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜,

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

407 notes · View notes

wrenqueenisboss · 3 years

Text

DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 1 --- George

Part 1 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”: Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned) Warnings: cursing, death, grief, arguing, yelling, panic, weapons Words: 1.2+

The list:

c!George - (you are currently on this post) c!Bench Trio (platonic) - (coming soon!) c!Wilbur - (coming soon!) c!Dream - (coming soon!) c!Technoblade - (coming soon!)

George was finally done with the fighting. So much warfare, so much death and destruction. It was too much. Even his former best friends, Dream and Sapnap had been swept up into the chaos. Well, Dream had actually been the cause of a lot of the deaths.

George Not-Found was done with the fighting, though. He wanted to keep you, the love of his life, safe. For so long, you had been begging him to move out of the SMP lands and live in the unoccupied lands outside of normal civilization. Your boyfriend hated the idea of leaving.

“All of my friends are here!” He’d protest. “George, all of your friends are either dead or criminals!” You couldn’t stop yourself from shouting back. It was true. Sapnap’s whereabouts remains ambiguous but Dream’s were well known. He had been locked in Pandora’s Vault. The notorious prison, made of mostly obsidian and Blackstone, was built with a seemingly immeasurable amount of traps. And yet, people still feared Dream’s escape.

George knew his former best friend was too far gone, but he hated it. He hated knowing the person he thought would be there through everything, was gone; had left for his own selfish gain.

Your shoulders slumped when you saw your boyfriend’s lip start to quiver. “George... I’m sorry. But I really do think we should move. It’s not safe here anymore.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, we’ll move.”

That was three months ago. Now, the two of you were living happily alone in your cottage. The two of you built it together and it was perfect. It surely wasn’t the biggest or most impressive dwelling on the whole server, but it was charming and suited both of your needs quite nicely.

“George, my love, I’m going to collect berries for breakfast. I’ll be back soon,” you announced, collecting your gear. You walked over to where your - now fiancé - was napping on the couch.

You scoffed playfully at his sleeping form, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Grabbing a random pen and post-it note off the coffee table, you wrote a note. The note explained where you were going, why, and when you expected to be back.

“I love you, George. Sleep well.” You added at the bottom with a smile.

Basket for berries swinging on your arm, light cloak on your shoulders, you left your charming house to go collect breakfast.

You did now realize that it would be the last time you’d see him.

Three hours later...

George Not-Found woke up with a start, tumbling ungracefully off the couch. Rubbing his elbow as he sat up, he looked around the house. It was empty.

“Y/n? Love?” he called into the empty air. He looked around some more, standing up and walking around.

A note on the table caught his eye. Your handwriting was spread over the small piece of paper. The message scrawled gracefully. “I’ve gone out to gather berries for breakfast,” he read aloud. “I should be back in an hour.” His heart began to drop. “I love you, George. Sleep well.”

His grip on the note went slack and it fluttered to the ground like a leaf. George frantically whipped his head around to look at the clock. It had been three hours since he fell asleep, and you weren’t in the house. Something was wrong.

George grabbed his sword, goggles, and some extra health potions off of the shelf by the door.

But as he closed the front door, a dagger with a note pinned to it stuck into the wood of the door caught his eye. The dagger was familiar, a polished silver handle set with diamonds and emeralds. The handwriting was even more familiar. But it wasn’t yours. It was Dream’s.

He ripped the dagger out of the door to read the note.

“Hey, George.

As you might have guessed by now, Y/n is gone. I’ve taken them. You shouldn’t have betrayed me, George. You knew that wouldn’t end well. Meet with me at the ruins of the community house tonight. Or else.”

George was so shocked. He knew something was wrong, but he really hadn’t expected Dream to be the cause of it. He hadn’t even realized he was on Dream’’s hit list - or list of enemies - to begin with.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The night was dark as the moon was only half full as George waited for Dream. The ruins of the community house sat still behind him. You could still see the burn marks on the pieces of the house that hadn’t been destroyed.

He was running his hands over a burned piece of wood when a voice made him turn around.

“Hello, George.”

He whipped around. “Dream.”

The man with the porcelain white mask visibly froze in surprise. He had never heard his former friend this serious before. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying. But the master manipulator pulled himself together.

“You seem thrilled to see me.”

But George wasn’t having it. He only wanted to know where Y/n was. Were they okay? Could he save them?

It was as if Dream could read his mind.

“You want Y/n.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a fact. Something so obvious it made no sense for Dream to say aloud.

“No shit,” George growled. “Where are they?”

The most wanted man on the server didn’t need to take off his mask for George to know he was smiling cruelly. His heart sank to his stomach, preparing for the worst. And the worst was what he got.

“They’re dead.”

Those two words, and everything seemed to stop. The world went quiet as George tried to take in the news. The words just didn’t seem to absorb into his brain. It made sense. What were you supposed to do upon hearing that the absolute love of your life had died? Just nod and move on with life? Hell no.

“Go, Dream.” George’s voice was hoarse, cracked with grief.

Dream tried to say something, but he was cut off.

“Just fucking go.”

So Dream left and George was left to process his feelings amongst the ruins alone.

Tears finally began to fall. His knees buckled and he crashed to the ground, bent over on the ground. The torrent of emotions - anger, frustration, grief, emptiness - cascaded over him.

He let out an earth-shattering scream. His throat burned but his sobs simply couldn’t carry the weight of his grief alone.

Holding himself in a tight hug as he rocked back and forth, George came to terms with your death.

You were gone. The love of his life was gone. Dead. Killed. Taken away from him. Your own life ripped away. And all because he hadn’t just agreed with you and moved away earlier, before the fighting and the wars got really bad.

“I’m sorry, darling.” his voice was carried with the wind. So heartbreaking that even the sky began to cry. The raindrops fell softly, as if they were keeping a vigil.

“You were right. We should have moved earlier. I should have listened. But I didn’t, and now you’re dead.”

He was cut off by his own sob, a wretched sound that echoed slightly off of the burned ruins of the community house.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He took a shaky breath. “I love you.”

#angsty #get ready for the angst #so much angst #cw: death #cw: grief #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x y/n #reader death #wren_queen stuff #wren_queen writes #angst series #imagine series #george lore #wrenqueenisboss

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comfortbucky · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years

Text

Actually Pretty Funny-Technoblade

Hello! This is a platonic!brother!Technoblade x fem!reader and a hinted Niki x fem!reader. I made the reader female since the request was the reader coming out to Techno as a lesbian. I hope that you enjoy!

Not in the dreamsmp but also isn’t real life. This is a Sleepy Bois inc fic where Techno, Wilbur, Tommy, and reader are all siblings with Phil being their father.

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals

Like this and want more? Check out my masterlist here!

Y/N opens up to her big brother as to why she has been avoiding her other brother and his friend.

Y/N’s POV

I let out a sigh as I flopped face first down on my bed. For the past few days, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my room after school. Why? Well thanks for asking, ambiguous voice. My brother Wilbur has been bringing his friend Niki for the past week and a half. The two had been assigned to work on a project together and they found it easier to work at our house because of the close proximity to the school. So the two would spend hours sitting at the kitchen table working on their project, talking and laughing at the jokes they made with one another and I couldn’t be around it. But not for the reason that most would think….

Many would think that I couldn’t be around the two because I didn’t like Niki. But it’s really quite the opposite. I like Niki. I mean, really like Niki… Really really like Niki… I have a giant crush on Niki. That’s why I can’t be around the two. I either get so jealous that it makes me feel sick or I make a complete fool of myself because I can’t handle Niki smiling at me. I haven’t told anyone this. Not even my brothers. No one knows how I feel and I would like to keep it that way. I love my brothers and I know they’re very supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, but I can’t help but fear that they’ll tease me or look at me differently and I don’t want anything to change.

So I decided to just hide myself away from all of it. If I don’t acknowledge my feelings, do they really exist? If I hide away in my room, nothing can get out and no one can find me out. I shouldn’t have to do this much longer, the project should be done soon, maybe even tonight. Maybe tonight will be the last time Niki and Wilbur will sit at the kitchen table laughing over how dumb their teacher is. I sure hope so.

I was interrupted from my self-pity party by a knock on my door. Letting out another sigh, I rolled onto my back and sat up, “Yeah?” The door swung open and I was greeted by the sight of my blonde haired brother. “What?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. Tommy almost never knocks before coming in so I was a bit surprised. “Dadza is letting us get pizza to celebrate Wilbur and Niki finishing their project. What kind do you want?” Tommy asked, pushing hair out of his eyes.

My eyes widened slightly at the question. I was right, tonight was the last night that she would be over. But the way that he phrased the question left me with one of my own, “Is Niki staying for dinner?” Tommy rolled his eyes at my question. “Of course she is, idiot. It wouldn’t be a celebration of them finishing without her. Now what do you want?” He pressed. “Oh… Umm..” I stuttered. This had never happened before. Niki never stayed for dinner. Of course Phil made sure she knew she was always welcome, but she didn’t accept the offer. She would always say she had to get home to Ranboo and make sure he hadn’t burned down the house. This always allowed me to fly under my family’s radar. I would go to my room and come down for dinner, claiming that I had a lot of homework and didn’t want to get distracted. Everytime they all bought it. Now what am I supposed to do?

“Umm. Actually, I’m not that hungry right now so I’ll just skip out. Thanks though Tommy.” I smoothly lied to my little brother. At least I thought I was smooth, but Tommy remained in my doorway with a cocked eyebrow and hands now on his hips. “You’re not hungry… For pizza? One of your all time favorites? Yeah I don’t believe you…. Are you skipping meals again? Do I need to go get Techno?” Tommy questioned. My heart began pounding. “No!” I blurted, standing up. I cleared my throat before responding once more, a lot calmer now. “No. No you don’t need to get Techno. I’m not skipping meals. I’m just not hungry.” For a moment, Tommy actually seemed to believe me. But then out of no where, my stomach let out a really loud growl.

Tommy and I stared at each other for a long while. I silently begged him to not do what I knew he was about to do. If Techno came in here, I knew I would have to spill everything. For some reason I couldn’t lie to my pink headed brother. He always knew how to get me to tell him what he needed to hear. “Tommy,” I whispered, “Please don’t-” “TECHNO!” He screamed, cutting me off. Tommy bolted out of my room and down the hallway toward Techno’s room. I heard Tommy begin to pound on Techno’s door as he yelled his name. In a panic, I rushed forward and slammed my door shut. I then rushed back to my bed and crawled under the blankets, bringing them up to cover my face.

Tommy’s screams stopped and it was silent. The calm before the storm. A rhythmic knock sounded against my door once more. I didn’t answer, hoping that maybe they would just go away if I didn’t respond… I knew better than that though. After a few moments of silence, I heard the door creak on it’s hinges letting me know it had been opened. It’s moments like this where I silently curse Phil for not letting me have a lock on my door. There was a small click as the door was shut once more. Footsteps echoed through my room and when they stopped, a pressure dipped my bed down as that same person sat next to me.

The tension in my room was extremely thick as we waited for the other to speak first. I was surprised by the blanket being pulled off of my face. My eyes quickly adjusted as I stared at my brother’s stoic expression, “Hello Technoblade” I greeted softly, looking away from his eyes. “Hello Y/N… Would you like to explain to me why Tommy nearly busted down my door to tell me that you're skipping meals again.” I rolled my eyes and adjusted myself so that I was now sitting up and resting against the headboard, “Because he’s a snitch that can’t keep his mouth shut” I huffed, looking everywhere but my brother. Techno let out a sigh and moved so that he was now sitting criss-cross on my bed. I felt a hand underneath my chin and my head was slowly moved so that I had no choice but to look at Techno. “You want to try again?” He prodded softly.

I took a deep breath before letting it out and swallowing harshly, “I can’t be around her.” I admitted softly. Techno’s face morphed into confusion, “Niki? Why? Has she been mean to you? That’s really surprising to hear, she’s usually a total sweetheart! I’ll talk to her and let her know-” “No” I cut him off. “No, it’s not that at all… I can’t be around her for another reason…” I trailed off. Techno was still confused, “You’re going to help me out Y/N. What other reason?” I took another deep breath before finally answering, “I like her. I really like her Techno. I’m either sick with jealousy at what her and Wilbur have or I fumble and embarrass myself in front of her… Techno… I’m a lesbian.” I admitted, closing my eyes tightly, not wanting to see his reaction.

He was silent for a while. I was about to speak again but was cut off by arms being wrapped around my shoulders. Techno pulled me into a tight hug, pressing me close to his chest. On instinct, my arms wrapped around him, my hands clutching the back of his shirt. All the emotions I had been bottling up for the past week and a half came crashing down. Tears began slipping out of my eyes as small sobs choked their way out of my mouth. Techno simply held me closer and began rocking back and forth, smoothing my hair down with one hand and the other rubbing up and down my back in comfort.

After a few minutes, my tears and sobs came to a stop. Techno tilted his head down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you for telling me,” He murmured against my hair. I sniffed and let out a hum, “Yeah… I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” Techno pulled back and gave me a stern look, “Don’t apologize okay? You weren’t ready to tell me and that’s okay. No one is entitled to information that you’re not ready to tell.” I processed his words and nodded, “You’re right,” I croaked, my throat raw from sobbing. Techno let out a laugh in triumph, “Always am kiddo. I always am.”

The two of us sat in comfortable silence for just a moment before Techno spoke again, “I just want to let you know that this changes nothing. You’re still my little sister that I love very much. Just now, instead of beating up your boyfriends, I’ll have to have civil conversations with your girlfriends.” His words caused me to giggle. The thought of Techno gearing up to fight the first boy I bring home only to open the door and find a woman. I giggled more as I pictured him quickly hiding his weapons and ushering the girl to the table and questioning them. “You know Techno, you’re actually pretty funny.” I giggled, shaking my head. A huge smile graced Techno’s face as he fist pumped in the air. “A lesbian refering to me as ‘actually pretty funny’? I’ve won life. Poggers!” I couldn’t help the laughter then burst from my lips at the sight of my pink headed brother fist pumping to me telling him he’s funny. Techno joined in on my laughter, causing me to laugh harder.

After our laughter died down, Techno stood up and offered me his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get some pizza.” Without even stopping to think, I took his hand and let him lead me downstairs to the kitchen. “There you two are!” Dadza greeted with a warm smile. Everyone was seated at the kitchen table, pizza boxes spread out in front of them. I didn’t realize that enough time had passed to where they were able to order and get the pizza. “Y/N your pizza is right there and Techno yours in next to hers.” aid, pointing to the two empty spots. Techno was quick to sit down and begin eating.

I took my seat next to Techno and Niki across from me. “Hey Y/N!” Niki greeted with a bright smile. “Hey Niki,” I greeted her back with a shy smile. “I felt like I haven’t seen you much this past week! How have you been?” She questioned, setting down her slice of pizza. “I’ve been good. How about you?” I asked back. “I’ve been good too! Hanging out with your brother has been fun, but it would have been better if I was able to see your face every once in a while.” Her words caused my face to flush a deep red. “Maybe we could hang out, just you and me sometime?” She offered, getting a little shy now. I glanced around at the table and found three shocked faces and one smirking. I cleared my throat and nodded enthusiastically, “I would love that, Niki.” I claimed with a smile. Niki smiled sweetly back at me before going back to eating her pizza causing me to also go back to my pizza.

There was a silence that fell over the table as the four guys stared at us. “What’s the matter?” I asked in general to the four. Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil seemed to shake out of their surprise and all murmured “nothing” before all going back to munching on their pizza and having a casual conversation. I let out a breath of relief. I knew that I would have to address what just happened after dinner, but for now I was off the hook. I allowed myself to look over to my oldest brother, who was shoving his pizza in his mouth. When his eyes met mine, he gave me a bright smile and a sly wink causing me to giggle and smile back at him. Perhaps it’s a good thing I can’t lie to my pink headed brother sometimes… Sometimes.

There you go! I really hope that you enjoy! If you did, please be sure to leave a like!

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dreamsoflevi · 3 years

Text

Love Was Not Enough | Part 1

Summary: A titan shifter is working in the Scout Regiment with a plan. Growing up with hate for Paradis takes a complete turn when falling for a certain Captain and developing friendships. Is it too late to make a change?

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Some fluff, angst, mentions of violence, description of an emotional breakdown, stress.

Author’s Note: My first post on Tumblr! I’m so slow when it comes to using Tumblr lol. Starting off with an angsty story because it's raining and gloomy. It was supposed to be an one-shot but it ended up being super long. There will be 1-2 more parts. Hope you enjoy! ♡

You loved him.

You really did.

You still do.

When you first met him, you were surprised this was the person everyone was referring to when they would mention Humanity's strongest soldier, Captain Levi. His aloof and brash attitude would prove those thoughts drilled in your head about the devils in disguise living amongst the lands as you. He didn't care for anything and he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you of that. “You will become titan shit.” His exact words spat to your face. Who does he think he is?

You were exceptional at what you did, full of intellect and skills landed you on his squad along with a group of newer cadets. The 104th cadets. You were all replacements for his previous squad who were killed by the female titan, your comrade Annie during the 57th expedition. You were trained for this after all. You were prepared and you had a plan along with a few others. Secret glances, nods, and meetings were shared amongst you four any chance you could get.

You ended up befriending a few too. A shy yet wise Armin, an extremely passionate Eren, a wild and resourceful Sasha, and some others. A bunch of children putting their lives on the line for a better tomorrow, a hopeful future. Aren’t you doing the same too?

During expeditions, you would watch Captain Levi swinging through trees on his ODM gear, slicing through the napes of every titan he landed his eyes on. Now you understand why he is humanity’s strongest. Slicing through titans without a struggle and with immense strength and speed.

He'd frantically look around making sure the others were okay. He'd shout the names of his squad and any other names he could remember hoping to get a shout in return. The panicked look on this face when he would hear screams and race to the source of them. Maybe he does care. When returning to the walls, you could see him grimace watching the gates open only for it to quickly change back to his normal neutral expression.

“L/N!” A voice breaking your thoughts as you walk back inside the headquarters after training. You turn around to see Captain Levi standing behind you with a small stack of papers in his hand.

“Yes, Captain?” You wiped the sweat off your forehead with your sleeve.

“Are you doing anything after this?”

You shook your head. “No, sir. Do you need anything?”

“Yes. Deliver this paperwork to Commander Erwin. He should be in his office now.” He handed you the small stack of papers he was holding.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded your head grabbing the papers and walking in the direction of Commander Erwin’s office.

Approaching his office, you knocked on his door. You heard a deep voice respond and turned the knob to enter. Opening the door, you see the distressed Commander sitting at his desk. One hand resting on his forehead and the other scribbling away. He glances up and sees the stack in your hands.

“Ah, thank you (Y/N), I was waiting for these.” Raising his hand in anticipation of the papers.

You walked up to his desk handing it to him. “No problem, Commander.”

You look around his messy desk. Papers spread all around, empty teacups resting on the side, and two ink bottles sitting on his desk. Your eyes take a peek at his face, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair slightly messed up. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. No. You try shaking those thoughts away. They are the devils and we are paying for their actions.

But you take another look at him. Imagine being in his position. Are you aware of what your ancestors did, Commander? He’s shuffling through the small stack of papers that were just handed to him. You can see the squares and circles in the form of a large triangle. The formations. The lives and the future of thousands rest upon this single man’s shoulders. Of course, he has to spend hours on end meticulously planning the expeditions and making sure the formations are properly formed. A plan for a better tomorrow, a hopeful future. Don’t you want that too?

You internally sigh in defeat. “Um... Commander?” You nervously play with your fingers.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He looks up at you, hand still holding the quill and the other now resting on the desk.

“Do.. do you need help? I just finished training and If you need help, I…” You bite your lip, your nerves getting the best of you as his eyes remain in contact with yours.

The curves of his mouth turn upwards. “If you can, please.” He gestures to the seat in front of him.

You flash him a smile, nod your head and take a seat. He hands you a stack of papers. “For these, you just need to write today’s date under the line where it says date received. Then organize them alphabetically.”

That’s where you found yourself at least twice a week. Helping the commander out whenever you could, organizing his paperwork, and filling them out whenever he needed you to. Sometimes you would work in complete silence. The sounds of pens scribbling, paper shuffling, and the sips the Commander took of his tea. Sometimes he would tell you a little story about his life and of his childhood. He would speak of his father being a major inspiration in his life and the reason he pushes forward every day. He had a sudden death, though the Commander never told you why, you can imagine it was a traumatic one for him.

A couple of months pass by and you are now sitting in the Captain's office. Coming into Commander’s office one day and seeing his surprisingly organized desk for once and him telling you that he didn’t need any assistance today. However, Captain Levi might need help with the reports from a previous expedition. Nodding your head and giving a quick salute, you made your way to Captain Levi’s office.

Working with Captain Levi was soothing. His office was very neat. Paperwork in his office sitting on his desk in organized piles. You can smell the faint scent of lemon which was refreshing. You visiting his office became a more frequent occurrence since he appreciated the assistance he would receive though he’d never tell you that. He would have a stack ready for you set up on the side table in his office. He was not much of a talker like Commander Erwin nor was he someone who reminisces his life it seems.

However, you would still have conversations here and there. He would ask about how you were feeling with training and if you dared to complain about the exercises he was giving, he would simply tell you to get better with the exercises or get eaten. Then realizing his bluntness and the silence that filled the room after, he would elaborate on his statement.

What he means is, he would say, these exercises help with increasing stamina and balance that will aid us on the battlefield. Outside the walls, anything can happen. Titans pop out of nowhere catching you off guard and little mishaps like getting tangled, being too slow, or even aiming your anchor wrong can lead to a fatal mistake. You could agree with that.

“(L/n), why did you decide to join the scouts?” He asked without looking up from what he was doing.

You stilled for a second and looked up at him. His eyes were still on the paper in front of him. This question always catches you off guard even if you rehearsed it so many times. It makes you nervous and vulnerable as if the person asking can see right through you and your facade.

“Same reason as everyone else, sir.” He glanced at you now and you immediately looked back down at the paper in front of you. You tried to avoid as much eye contact as you can.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“F-freedom.. from the titans.” You heard a scoff.

“Now you sound like Eren.” He was still looking at you. You dared to meet your eyes with his. He still had a stoic look on his face but there was curiosity simmering in his eyes. He was waiting for an answer. You had no choice but to give one. How would you say it though? You don’t want to lie. Captain Levi can be very perceptive and you’re sure he could see through your facade.

You bit your lip. “I… I want a better future for myself, my loved ones, and future generations. All my life, I’ve experienced confinement and.. oppression. But I have been given the power- er, the opportunity I should say to aid in defeating our e-enemies and... and I hope to accomplish that to live a more liberating life.”

He remained in eye contact with you without saying anything. The silence was deafening in the room and you hoped he would say something. Each second of silence was building the temperature in your body as your nerves were starting to get the best of you. Your chest was burning and you could feel a bit of sweat forming on your scalp. Did you say the wrong thing? Or maybe you said too much? Why isn’t he saying anything?

Your lips parted in anticipation to say something. But what else were you going to say? Before you can process what you are going to say, he hummed and looked back down at his work.

“You are right. We all have the same reason, more or less. To break out of these confined and oppressive walls and defeat these shitty titans. Whatever is out there must be better than what we live in now.”

You internally sighed. It’s not better but hopefully, it will get better. I guess we have the same mission, just different targets. You and everyone else here being mine Captain. You felt your throat dry up. Can you imagine killing these people? Watching Captain struggling on his last breath? Commander Erwin? Hange? Connie, Sasha, Jean, Armin? But your ancestors... Now you are suffering because of these devils.

Shaking your head of these thoughts, you try to focus back on the paper in front of you. “Ar-” You cleared your throat. “Armin believes there’s a sea out there.”

He snorted. “That kid and his shitty dream...” You could see a hint of a smile forming on his face. “Who knows, maybe there is.”

You come to realize that he’s not rude, he just doesn’t know how to express himself. His actions speak louder than words and you can’t help but grow a lot of respect for him. But he’s still a devil. But he has a heart and he cares for every single person in this regiment, including you. It doesn’t matter. They caused your people pain and betrayed them.

A perk of being on Captain Levi’s squad is getting to sit on meetings planning the expeditions. Commander Erwin would call these meetings for input on observations made from previous missions. Armin enthusiastically shares what he learns from the missions. Plans are being formed around Eren and his abilities. He’s learning new things about what he can do every day and recently he learned about hardening abilities from Annie. Working with Hange to train how to harden properly to be able to plug walls in the future.

They have no idea though. No idea what is beyond these walls, where these titans come from, where do they go, or anything else. They are risking their lives for the answers, the answers that you already know.

Walking through the dark hallways, you step into the mess hall. There sitting on a table in the dimly lit corner were Reiner and Bertholdt. The ones on the mission with you alongside Annie.

“Where have you been lately?” Reiner asked as you sat down on the bench. You usually had these meetings at least once or twice a week, but since Annie was captured, things have gotten more hectic. In fear of getting caught or being busy with so many tasks, you haven’t had the chance to meet with them as often as you should.

“Sorry.. I’ve just been swamped with training, meetings, and helping the higher-ups with their paperwork.”

Reiner narrows his eyes at you. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with them lately.”

“Yeah but I’ve managed to learn a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Eren is close to figuring out his hardening abilities. Hange had taken the sample from Annie but she didn’t get far with that. Now she and Eren are working together to see how Eren can unlock his own ability.”

Reiner hummed. “If Eren learns how to harden, he could start landing attacks on me. He’d still be no match for Bertholdt though.”

You nodded in response. There was an awkward silence. No one had much to say which was a huge difference from before when you had to plot your next moves and practice your stories together. Usually, Reiner was the one who would come up with the plans and assign tasks to the rest of you three. This was before the fight between Eren and Annie. You didn’t expect Annie to lock herself into the crystal.

You looked at Reiner who seemed to be deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”

He sighed. “I think another attack is coming soon.”

Bertholdt and your eyes widen. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a little too quick, Reiner?” Bertholdt wearily asks. You nod your head in agreement.

“They already have Annie. We need to get Eren and try to get Annie out of there as well.”

“Yes!” Bertholdt interjects. “We do need to save Annie.” Bertholdt always had a soft spot for Annie. You have an inkling he has a crush on her because he gets flustered and avoids the topic every time it’s brought up.

You don’t know if you’re ready for another attack. The last one was devastating. The fight between Eren and Annie destroyed so many homes and lost lives. Children losing their parents, parents losing their children, lovers lost… It is heartbreaking. You don’t know if you can stomach another attack at this point. What are you saying? That is what you’re here for. You need to do this for your people back home. You let out a long exhale and close your eyes.

“It bothers you too, doesn’t it?” You open your eyes to Bertholdt looking at you.

“They are people… just like us.”

You nod your head meekly. “Just like us.” You repeated in a whisper.

Reiner sighs. “And they have no clue what is happening.”

“No clue.” You and Bertholdt breathe simultaneously. You three sit in silence, all three of you lost in your own thoughts. Why did it have to be us?

During training you noticed Captain Levi limping a little more than usual. Since the 57th expedition, his leg has been in bad shape. He still supervises your training and some days, he can walk properly and some days he’s limping. You turn back to your task at hand, slicing through the titan dummies set up.

“(Y/n)! Straighten your back!” He yells from the field and you obey, straightening your back while you and Connie swing to the titan dummy.

“Oi Sasha! You have to aim your anchors a bit higher!”

“Mikasa, don't go too fast!”

The comments usually went like that for the entire training session. Watching all of you train and critique your performances. You’re not going to lie, it was a pain in the ass. But you noticed it does help you outside of the walls. Captain Levi is good at what he does. He’s perceptive and knows exactly what to do and when. He is a natural titan killer. Being able to take down small to abnormal and maybe even ones like you. After you were done, you all were panting and sweating while walking back to the field.

“Phew! That was some training today,” Connie wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

Jean clicked his tongue. “That was nothing! Probably too much for you right Yeager?” He smirked at Eren.

Eren rolled his eyes. “You wish, Jean boy. That’s why you’re drenched in sweat.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

You all groaned as Eren and Jean started arguing for the fifth time today. The first two times Armin tried to interject to try and diffuse the argument but at this point, even he gave up.

“You’re on Yeager. After dinner, we’ll have an arm wrestling match.”

“After dinner,” Eren confirmed. “Don’t horse around Kirstein.”

“Shut up titan freak.”

“Are you ladies done bickering?” Captain Levi glared at them with his arms crossed. Eren clicked his tongue and Jean muttered under his breath. Captain narrowed his eyes at them, a warning to fix their attitudes. They immediately straightened their backs.

“Yes sir!” A few of you silently giggled watching them get scolded by Captain Levi.

Watching them with a smile, you loved the banter between Eren and Jean. Despite the arguments, you know deep down they have respect and admiration for one another. It’s distinctly shown during battle when they are looking out for another. Even during Eren’s fits of rage, Jean is understanding and never attacks Eren for his impulsive decisions. He might get a little bit of teasing though.

They were very friendly with you too. Always giving you a pat on the back or a cheesy grin whenever they see you. Looking back at you when riding through the gates to make sure you’re okay or screaming your name to make sure you are fine when fighting titans. And let’s not forget Jean’s flirty nature. His love for Mikasa is strong but he can’t help it when he sees any walking and breathing female. Just kidding. He’s not that girl crazy.. maybe. It’s too soon to decide that.

I think another attack is coming soon. You heard Reiner’s voice suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly started feeling a bit nauseous. Another attack on these people. These people you are considering your friends. You felt the salty taste in the back of your throat. Trying to calm your nerves, you took some deep quiet breaths. It wasn’t helping. It was getting harder to swallow with your throat tightening. You silently walked back hoping no one starts a conversation with you. As soon as you get back, you were planning on taking a very, very cold shower.

Grabbing your clothes, you ran into the showers. Breathing hard and with shaking hands, you turned the shower knob. The cold water hitting you and startling you for the first few seconds. You can’t. You can. You can’t. You have to. But these people, you can’t do that to them now. Not when they are just started to grow on you. They were normal people with normal feelings. They’re not… devils? Yes, they are.

You remember the attack in Trost. The chaos that spread through the walls. These same cadets hopelessly try to fight the titans. You were all newly graduated. Thomas getting eaten by a titan. Screams and cries filled your ears along with the sounds of loud thumps and bone-crunching.

When you were discussing things with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, poor Marco being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How devastated Jean was losing his best friend and not knowing ultimately it was you three that led to his death. Not only his but everyone else’s. The way Armin looked when Eren sacrificed himself to save him.

Can you do this again?

A sob escaped from your throat. Tears flew down your cheeks getting mixed in with the water. You are no different than them, aren't you? The blood of these innocent lives on your hands. But they were the reason for all this, no? Except they don’t know. Is it justifiable blaming them for something that happened so many years ago? While you are oppressed by the Marleyeans, they are oppressed by these titans. Aren’t you any different from the Marleyans then? Punishing innocent people for things out of their control?

Leaning your head on the tiled wall, you needed to make a decision. Whose side are you on? No, whose side do you want to be on? Do you want to continue the same treatment you received? Do you want to be the reason a child loses their mother? Their father? You need to make a decision and make it quick. You grabbed the soap bar and cleaned yourself off. You will make a decision. You just need time.

After your shower, you remembered you were going to go to Captain Levi’s office to help him with his paperwork. You also remembered how he was limping badly today. Before going into his office, you decided to make a trip to the infirmary.

Asking the nurses for some balm for Captain Levi’s leg, you grabbed a small jar and made your way to his office. What’s the reason for this? Are you trying to relieve some of the guilt eating away at your conscience?

Entering his office, he offered a small greeting before pointing to the paperwork that needed to be done today. Before getting seated at the table, you walked over to his desk and held out the small jar. With an eyebrow raised, he looked at the jar in your hand.

“It’s for your leg. You were limping today and I thought this might help sir.”

He took the jar from your hand. The curves of his mouth turned upward, not enough to call it a smile since he hardly ever did. “Thank you.”

Thank you. You felt your heart flutter. You barely hear words of acknowledgment from him and you can’t help but feel happy that you were on the receiving end of them. So what? Why do you care? Because you do admire him. After all, he was your Captain and you respect him. And he is looking nicer than usual in his black suit and cravat. What? Are you okay? You’re just acknowledging his looks. It means nothing-

Wait, he said thank you. You need to answer him instead of disputing with your own self.

“It’s no problem.” You smiled at him and walked over to your seat and began working.

That is how things went for a while. You have been avoiding Reiner and Bertholdt any chance you can get because you were unsure of how to explain the inner turmoil you are having with yourself. You are close to walking away from it all, officially dedicating your heart to the Scouts, to Commander Erwin, to Paradis. You are willing to throw it away. Your family, friends, and everyone else back home. They don’t understand what you’re going through. The struggle you are facing. It’s easy to be on the other side of things but when having to see these losses head-on, it’s gut-wrenching.

You managed to get even closer to everyone. Sharing laughs and jokes with your squad during breakfast and dinner, working with Commander Erwin more closely and offering suggestions when he’s planning the formations, engaging in more conversations with Captain Levi, and even spending time in Hange’s office.

“Oh! Hello again (Y/n)! Guess what Eren is doing today!” Hange exclaimed while wrapping her arm around Eren’s neck. Eren holding onto her arm trying to relieve some pressure on his neck.

“What is he doing today?” You gave Eren a little smirk.

“Drinking a lot of water. We’re testing out his pee!” She shoved a large canteen into Eren’s chest.

“Pee? Wait, why?”

“Because Eren, we’re tested your blood but we haven’t received consistent results. So we are going to try your bladder. So drink up! We need at least a liter.”

“A liter?!” Eren squeaked.

Hange cackled. “A liter indeed!”

“(Y/n), do you want to help Eren out?” She flashed a grin at you.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “What do I have to do?”

“Just make sure he drinks this entire canteen of water. And if he doesn’t..” her smile dropped and she grimly looked at you, “Force him.”

Eren managed to drink the canteen of water and he also managed to give a liter of urine samples. Unfortunately, Eren had to run to the bathroom every half hour for the rest of the day. This resulted in a very irritated Captain Levi and a snickering Jean.

“What experiment did four eyes do on the shit head today?” He asked you when you walked into his office.

“She needed urine samples from Eren so she forced him to drink an entire canteen which is a gallon of water in one hour.” You grinned while grabbing your stack of papers.

He cringed. “Poor Eren.”

You snapped your neck to look at him in shock. “Did you just have sympathy for someone, Captain?”

“Oi, shut it. Don’t get mouthy with me.” He teasingly pointed a finger at you.

You snickered, taking your usual seat at the table. “I mean… It’s Hange. I always have sympathy for anyone who works with her. Look at poor Moblit.” He chuckled.

His chuckle rang through your head. He chuckled. You quickly caught your thoughts and felt heat rushing up to your cheeks for getting flustered about him chuckling. Why are you feeling like this?

“Captain, what’s the occasion? I don’t think anyone has ever heard you laugh.” You grinned at him.

“That wasn’t a laugh.” He immediately responded while scribbling on papers.

“Fine. A chuckle.” You rolled your eyes and began shuffling through the papers and organizing them.

“Well feel special I guess. You heard your captain chuckle.” He mockingly repeats the word in your tone.

Special. You smile. I do feel special.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fic #levi angst #levi aot #attack on titan #levi fluff #levi

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fa-headhoncho · 3 years

Text

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 2058

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers? canon level violence, john walker

Author’s Note: im being lazy and not writing rn but i have a stock pile of fics so get ready for shitty posts :p

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

=====

Once you get onto the plane, you don’t hold back your emotions. The fight was enough but how Walker talked to Sam and Bucky on the car ride over sent you over the edge. You had to admit, the kid had good intentions but there was something about him that was off.

You don’t even wait for his private jet to lift off before turning to him and pinning him against the nearest wall. Your forearm was laying across his chest while the other was hovering over the knife clipped onto your hip. His managers and friend stand up, rushing to try to pry you off of him but he raises a hand to stop them. “Who the hell do you think you fucking are, huh?”

“Captain America.” He simply responds, looking at down you with a cocky smile. You let out a scoff, the audacity of this man. “Look, I didn’t know that you knew them.”

“Yes, you did.” You exclaim while your forearm digs into his chest, “You read my parole reports, it shows where I spend my time and who I talk to, Bucky and Sam being the main two who I interact with. They’re my friends and you’re using me as a pawn. Steve wouldn’t have done that, Captain America wouldn’t have done that.”

“You talk about looking up to him but you’re nothing like him. You throw around ‘brother’ like it means nothing, you have no idea what those two have gone through with Steve. You hold the shield like it’s a toy and using it to get what you want.” Your voice is menacing low and you knew if you still had your parole officer that he would be scolding you for it.

“Captain America stood up for the little guys but you’re just using it as a title, abusing it to act like the hero you tried to be before. You’re a fucking joke.” You release him and walk away. The air in the room felt tense as you plop down on the chair closest to the exit, furthest away from his management team who didn’t know what just happened.

“If you think I’m going to stand by your side after how you just treated my friends, you’re dead fucking wrong.” You shake your head and lean forward in your seat.

He lets out a chuckle, taking a step towards you with his hands fisted by his side. “You’re going to help me if I say you are. I say the words and you’re locked back in the goddamn cell where you belong. Remember who brought you here in the first place.”

“Hey, John, calm down.” Hoskins finally buds in. Walker scoffs and shakes his head, following him to join the rest of their team.

You shift your eyes to the floor, knowing he’s right. The power the government is giving their new Captain is a desperate attempt to give hope to those after the Blip. It’s going straight to his head and you knew it was going to get worse in the long run.

The rest of the flight is awkward. The tension never settling even if Walker acts like nothing just happened. Hoskins was keeping a close eye on you like you were going to bounce back to your Hydra days and take out everyone on the plane. To be fair, you wanted to but you weren’t stupid and you didn’t want to give him another reason to send you back.

Once the plane touches down, you’re out the door. The group was barely out of the seats before they could see you disappear into the airport. Haling a cab and taking it back to the apartment they were renting for you, changing out of your gear and plopping down onto the bed.

The events of the day finally collapse down onto you. This situation was going to be a lot harder than you originally thought. Walker explained it as just one mission to see where the Flag Smashers were taking the stolen vaccines and you would be on your way. “Free at last” to use his words but now you were roped in for the long haul.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look of betrayal on Bucky’s face either. He had confided in you about how he felt about the new Captain and how lost he felt. If Steve wasn’t right about Sam then what the hell was wrong with Bucky?

Before you realize it, tears were streaming down your cheeks. You knew it was too early to try to reach out to them so you decide to give them time. They were still processing their interactions with the new Captain and the new information about the Flag Smashers being super-soldiers.

If you were going to have to work with Walker, you were going to have to figure out a plan. Racking your brain for ideas, one comes to mind that would be risky. It would be worth it, though. Staring up at the ceiling, you start strategizing a way you could pull this off. You were one of Hydra’s best agents so hopefully, this would be easy. After going against your original thought and shooting Sam a quick text, you slowly drift off asleep.

=====

Your leg bounces under the table as you stare at the clock above the door. It was half-past seven and the breakfast rush was winding down. The diner was slowly emptying, leaving a hand full of tables with families and friends enjoying their meal. The waitress comes up to your booth, standing there until you notice her.

“Ready to order yet, hun’?” The nice older lady questions, breaking your gaze from the entrance to her. You shake your head no before turning back to the door. She gives you a sad smile before looking down at her watch, “It’s been almost twenty minutes, sweetie, are you sure your friends are still coming?”

You nod quickly, no matter what kind of circumstances the two soldiers would never stand you up. Their hearts were too kind for that. “I was just a bit early, I’m kind of nervous.” You shyly admit, sending her a smile.

“Well, I’m bringing you something to eat at least,” She commands, you open your mouth to reject but she cuts you off, “on the house.” She gives you a firm look before walking off to the back.

Right as she disappears into the kitchen, the bell of the diner dings. Your head snaps to it and you can’t help the large smile that appears on your face at the sight of the duo walking in. The two immediately see you since you placed yourself right near the door.

Sam sends you back a smile while Bucky just eyes you down. You were wearing a simple sweater and pants while they were in their usual civilian gear, a ballcap and jacket. You couldn’t help but ogle at how good Bucky looked in the blue Hently you two bought when he first came to Brooklyn.

They slip into the booth, their broad figures barely fitting on the small seat. Sam elbows Bucky as he tries to get comfortable but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morning.” You try to make conversation. “How was the rest of your day yesterday?”

“He got arrested.” Sam bluntly says making your jaw drop. “He missed his check-in with the shrink.”

“I told you not to tell her.” Bucky makes out through clenched teeth, he just shrugs in response. You go to scold him but he holds a steady hand out, “You can yell at me all you want later, what do you want? We don’t have much time.” Your heart drops with how aggressive he’s being towards you.

“I want to help you.” You announce, ignoring Bucky’s eye roll as he remembers who you’re working with. He goes to tell you off just like he told Walker but you start rambling before he could utter a word, “I know it’s not the ideal situation but Walker wants me on his team. If I could earn his trust and figure out what their plans are, I can report back to you two.”

“And how do we not know this is a setup?” Sam points out, leaning forward on the table as Bucky looks around the diner for any sign of said Captain America, “They could be listening right now, they still have you under lock and key.”

You gleam at the mention of that, realizing that you haven’t told them the good news. “Not anymore.” You extend your leg out from under the table for Bucky to see your naked ankle. “Walker pulled some strings to get me off my parole earlier.”

A look of realization comes across Sam’s face once he pieces everything together. He knew how mad you were about the new Captain America, how you helped him and Bucky against the Smashers instead of the other two, and how you didn’t know anything about Bucky getting arrested made sense.

“So, you made a deal with the devil.” Bucky snarkily questions, a look of disappointment on his face.

You let out a scoff at his words, “I did what I had to do, James. Not all of us were lucky enough to get pardoned.” You spit back, tired of how he was acting. “He tricked me, told me it was just one simple favor to repay him. Now, he wants me to be a part of his team to take down the Flag Smashers. Told me if I didn’t help that he would send me back to jail and it would reset everything I had accomplished in the last five years.”

Bucky’s eyes soften at your confession, hanging his head in embarrassment at his assumptions. The waitress comes up and sets the small plate of food down in front of you, giving an awkward smile to the boys before walking off.

You let out a sigh, feeling bad for yelling at him. He was being a dick but that didn’t mean you had to be one back to him. He was going through a lot and this was the last thing he needed.

Grabbing the fork, you stare down at the pancakes. “You don’t have to forgive me or anything but just understand where I’m coming from, please.”

They share a look as they silently communicate. Bucky narrows his eyes and Sam tilts his head at him. You look between them as you try to figure out what’s going on.

“I can’t read your mind, cyborg. Use your words.” Sam finally spits out then elbows him one more time, “Will you please scoot over? I’m suffocating over here!”

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes at his friend. He gets up out of the booth and slips in next to you, using his larger form to push you closer to the window. Your eyes widen in surprise as he slings his arm to rest behind your head. He then takes the extra fork and stabs it into your hashbrowns.

Sam lets out an awe as he watches the two of you eat from your plate, “Don’t you two look so cute.”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both demand at the same time. He raises his hands up in defense, leaning back in the booth with a smug smile on his face. The two of you easily fall into conversation, catching up on things and giggling at the little jokes he was making. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence as the two of you enjoy the meal, you remember what Sam mentioned earlier.

Bucky lets out a little yelp when you send a swift smack to the back of his head, making the hashbrowns he was about to eat fall off his fork. “What the hell was that for?”

“For getting arrested, are you kidding me, James? Do you know what could’ve happened to you? I swear to God, James Buchanan Barnes, you will be the death of me—“ You continue to scold while Sam lets out a booming laugh. Mad at him for being so careless, you poke and prod at his chest but stop when you notice the expression on his face. Your heart can’t handle the way he pulls out his puppy dog eyes and his pouted lip. “Oh, don’t pull that shit with me.”

_____

untitled tfawts fic: @crowleysqueenofhell @mischiefmanaged71 @thewinterrbucky @lizajane3 @ahahafudge @spookycereal-s @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kittengirl998 @ sebby-staan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu #the winter solider x reader #twatws #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #sebastian stan

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candychronicles · 3 years

Text

best damn show // h. shinsou

A/N: my take on the bnharem villain/hero swap collab! this was supposed to be super super short but oops...

CHARACTER PAIRING: Shinsou Hitoshi x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,918

WARNINGS: a half-assed sex scene, mentions of toxic coping mechanisms, bad mental health, alcohol and mentions of sex trafficking

SYNOPSIS: a dangerous villain is on the loose and Shinsou will find out who it is no matter what.

Click here to read more fateful encounters!

Shinsou turned off the TV with a resounding click, huffing in frustration. he had been there last night, seen the carnage, the chaos and pain that was caused by the villain. he didn’t know who they were, what they looked like, what their plan was, but he sure as hell didn’t want to wait to find out. The Hero Commission had instructed every hero to be on the lookout for suspicious activity but all it created was more chaos and distrust in a time when everyone needed to come together to figure out the issue at hand. being the type of hero that he was, one with a quirk that was not necessarily smiled upon, instantly created problems between himself and his team.

it became quite apparent that he needed to step down for a few days. while everyone claimed that it was for personal health issues, he left because he knew that he was being sussed out and couldn’t be trusted. despite trying his whole life to prove that he was a hero, nobody ever seemed to really see that he was one. even Aizawa thought it was best if he stepped away for the time being as tensions continued to rise between coworkers, friends and acquaintances alike.

to be frank, he was sick of being treated like a dog, someone who was there for entertainment and to do the dirty work of the heroes that wanted to keep their shiny crowns spotless. he was sick of being treated like less than scum on the pond, gum on a shoe or even trash littered on the side of the road. there were very few people in his life that truly believed in him and what he could do and while that was normally enough, it wasn’t today. there was someone truly dangerous on the rise, someone who could destroy entire cities if they wanted to, especially with the influence they had, and he wasn’t going to let them get away.

that’s how he ended up sneaking around the site of the initial attack. there was very little evidence there, everything cleared out from the cops, firemen and cleaning crews, but a little flyer about a bar stuck out like a sore thumb between two dull gray cement blocks. he plucked it out with his fingers and examined the barely held together paper, just managing to make out an address.

fuck it, might as well go. the worst that will happen is i get drunk and Kaminari will have to drag my ass back him, but honestly, he’s put me through worse.

with that thought in mind, he strolled to the bar near where the attack happened. the place was small and cozy and certainly not like anything he was expecting. a few people mingled around, chatting and laughing and nobody batted an eyelash when he walked in with his hood up and hands in his pocket. sliding into a chair, he signaled with one hand for the bartender to come and take his order. in what seemed like an instant, a neat whiskey, double, was placed in front of him with a kind nod.

before he had a chance to sip on his drink, another patron slipped in next to him. you were barely paying attention and apologized profusely when you realized you practically pushed him off his chair.

“i am so so sorry! i slid in here like a chicken with my head cut off. have you ever actually seen that happen before? it’s honestly quite terrifying,” you started, laughing at your own antics before continuing, “let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

“are you hitting on me?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth as he quirked an eyebrow at you, studying your flushed face and doey eyed expression.

“well, your hood is up so i can’t really see how cute you are. i’m honestly just half assed drunk and feeling extra nice tonight. no flirting here!”

he chuckled before flipping his hood down, cocking his head towards the bartender as he downed his drink in one gulp. you admired his face, the way it barely scrunched up despite the taste, his adam’s apple bouncing up and down.

“one more please! actually, make that two.”

you and Shinsou spent the whole night laughing about what seemed like the dumbest things: how many vertebrae giraffes had in their neck, how many ice cubes you could each fit in your mouth at one time, how crayons were made, and who could take a shot with a straight face. the latter led you two to being absolutely hammered as you stumbled out of the bar at a crisp three in the morning.

“s’nice meeting you S-shinsou! we should do this a-again sometime,” you stated matter-of-factly, laughing at the confused look on his face.

he spent a few seconds pondering the situation before agreeing to meet you here in a few days, sloppily exchanging numbers and hoping that they were right before he walked you back to your apartment, citing that it wouldn’t be fair as a hero for him to not escort you home to your safe spot.

the next morning resulted in a pounding headache as he sat up groggily from the couch, still dressed in all black from the night before. despite not learning anything about the villain that had caused the attack, he had to admit that his night was still nice.

the next few days before you two were supposed to meet up, Shinsou went full vigilante. he spent hours scouring any database he could for underground information about the villain. they were calling themselves “nightcrawler” and they were an internet sensation, spewing opinions about The Hero Commission, how villainous and cruel they were, how people and their quirks were being suppressed by this glamorized shit show. he snorted at the opinions, half agreeing with what they were saying but not so much on the way they were going about the situation.

every lead led him to a dead end. people knew of them but not who they were, what they looked like and certainly not where they were. he was able to gather some minor information from lackeys that claimed a man at an underground fighting ring might know something about nightcrawler but nothing was set in stone.

before he knew it, he was meeting you again at the bar, feeling guiltier than ever for acting like some righteous hero when he was a borderline vigilante at this point. you didn’t seem to care who he was, what kind of job he had or what his boring routine was like. you wanted to hit deep, spilling dark secrets to each other, like how depressed you felt sometimes living a boring life behind a desk, how he felt like he wasn’t really a hero, how you drank to cope with the pain sometimes, how he was doing exactly the same. eventually, he spilled to you how he was technically still a hero but doing some not so legal digging on the side as he got benched due to the distrust because of his quirk.

you frowned as you watched him confess how he felt, emotion after emotion rolling over him in waves, from sadness to anger to confusion to defeat. you sympathized with every word that came out of his mouth, not understanding what it was like to be a hero but hurting with every word nonetheless.

“well, what’s your next move?” you finally asked after a few moments, watching the gears turn in his head as he processed your words.

“i heard through the grapevine that a certain shady underground fighting ring might have some more information on the whereabouts of nightcrawler.”

you prodded him for all the details, grinning in delight when he mentioned the name of where he wanted to go. without saying another word, you yanked him off his feet, throwing cash down on the bar to pay for your drinks as you dragged him out of the place and down only a few blocks. he spent the whole time bewildered and confused but judging by your determined stance and wicked smile, he figured he knew where you were taking him.

the entrance wasn’t anything spectacular. in fact, it was quite dingy, a cellar amongst garbage. you kicked the trash bags out of the way and pulled the doors open, motioning for Shinsou to follow you, pulling the cellar shut tight behind you as you walked down the dimly lit path to another metal door.

knocking twice and then once more, a man eyed you and Shinsou up and down, asking for the password, which you gleefully cheered out. the man grunted then opened the door fully, telling you to enjoy your time. Shinsou jumped when the clang of metal sounded out but was instantly pulled in towards the scene in front of him. there were people all over the place shouting and cheering as two burly men fought in the ring in front of him. none of the people looked like they should’ve been there. people with bright green dyed hair, women in business suits, men lounging around in sweatpants and holey t-shirts, people of all races and ethnicities gathered together to watch.

it was like a scene out of a movie, the chaos and confusion almost being enough to stun a person where they stood, but Shinsou was trained to react to anxiety inducing situations and quickly began scanning around to find the man that might have known what was going on with nightcrawler.

murmuring a quick “stay here,” Shinsou delved into the crowd, spotting the man in charge quite easily, watching the way he cockily examined the fight and all its inhabitants like he owned them.

“hey, we need to have a little chat,” he stated, staring the man directly in the eyes.

“buddy, i don’t know-” the man was cut off as he became enraptured in Shinsou’s quirk.

it took only a few moments before the man was a blubbering mess, but he still wouldn’t crack on who nightcrawler was.

“listen man, she’ll kill me if she finds out i said anything,” he cried.

that was enough information for him to go off and with one final nod, he slipped back into the shadows to find you eagerly cheering on the fight, shoulder to shoulder with a pretty girl with red hair as you two chatted animatedly about what was happening.

“ready to go princess?” he questioned, watching you flush a bright pink underneath the harsh stage lights before you abruptly turned around to smash your lips against his own.

he stood there shocked for a few moments but before you could fully pull away, his lips were back on yours, this time fervent in worship.

the walk back to your apartment was excruciating, kisses being exchanged as Shinsou kept a watchful eye out for any seedy people, especially since you were so close to the latest villain attacks.

when you finally entered your apartment, it was all teeth gnashing together, clothes being practically torn off one another as you explored every inch of your bodies. his hands on your hips, trailing up to tweak your nipples, swallowing your moans with his mouth. your hands tangled in his messy hair, down to the back of his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you, not wanting to miss a moment of him. you didn’t know what he was going through or what possessed him to call you that nickname but you weren’t going to pretend that you weren’t absolutely infatuated with him.

to him, the nickname just slipped. you were so cheesy, so angelic and innocent and yet badass and strong at the same time. the things you went through in life, how you persevered despite it all, made his heart burst out of his chest. it was as if you almost understood him at an atomic level despite only knowing him for a few days. you shared the same morales, the same commonalities, what you wanted to do with your life, how you could change the world if you wanted to. he drank it all up with deep passion, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he bottomed out inside of you, desperate to hear your moans and whines, to feel you melt underneath his touch.

after what felt like hours and seconds all at once, you collapsed on his chest, drunk off of sex, sweat clinging to your skin like a sheet. you absentmindedly traced your fingers up and down his chest, admiring the swirl of purple hair tufting from his pecs.

“Shinsou,” you started, waiting for his drowsy hum before continuing, “if you could really change the world for the better, would you do it? no holds barred?”

he contemplated you for a moment before responding, “i don’t think i’m cut out to change the world, especially if it means hurting people in the process.”

you hummed in thought before softly whispering, “i think out of any of the heroes, you’d be the one to really change the world. i mean, you’re the one who’s sitting here, kicked out all because the people who you’re supposed to trust with your life can’t even look you in the eye. you’ve suffered so much, struggled so much and yet here you are fighting to catch this villain.”

you paused to collect your thoughts before starting again, “i mean, i don’t know if i could do the whole killing thing. it seems like killing just leads to more killing, and then when will it end? but i don’t think causing a little chaos to get someone’s attention is so bad. property damage to the capitalistic animals that run this country, to the politicians who can look a depressed person in the eye and tell them they should just die, to the people who turn blind eyes to the injustices of this world. i mean, would that be so bad? would that ever really solve anything?”

Shinsou blinked once, twice, three times before shrugging his shoulders.

“i don’t really know if i can disagree with you on that one. i don’t know if i’d ever be able to go against something like The Hero Commission but if i could, i probably would. it doesn’t really matter now though. I’ll probably get kicked out after i find her anyways.”

“her?”

“nightcrawler. the man said she was a woman. it’s not much but it’s a start.”

you hummed in agreement, snuggling up into his side as you began to drift off into sleep, feeling safer than ever in his arms.

the next morning, Shinsou woke up to find out that the man he talked to the night before was dead. you were nowhere to be found and he began panicking before he heard the shower running and you humming to yourself, clearly happy and satisfied with the previous night's actions.

“hey, princess?” he questioned, knocking on the door and opening it to peek inside, watching the steam billow out.

“what’s up?” you asked, peering from around the curtain.

“i’ve got to check something out. i’ll swing by later, yeah?”

you pouted but nodded, blowing him a kiss before closing the curtain to continue your routine.

the walk to the underground club was much shorter than the night before now that his head was clear. there were police swarming the scene but one flash of his hero license and he was let on premises.

a few questions later and he was able to get all the information he needed. nightcrawler apparently found out the man slipped up and sent a lackey to dispose of him. turns out he was also in the sex trafficking business and used the shady underground fight club to hide the even shadier business of women and children. it turned his stomach to hear what was going on but couldn’t help but feel satisfied a sick man like him was no longer around to live.

he spent the rest of the day combing over clues as to who she may be. according to the police, she was there the night he was murdered. rumors spread that she had been planning her next attack as was using the man for intel. how they managed to get that much information but still didn’t know anything about her threw him off more than he could imagine.

before he had a chance to swing back to your apartment, he got a call from the head of his agency asking for a meeting. he swallowed thickly, wondering if they knew what he was doing behind the scenes. a quick ride and he was standing in front of the agencies shiny glass building trying not to throw up.

“Shinsou, good to see you! please, have a seat,” the corporate man stated, motioning for him to sit down across the desk.

he took two large strides and firmly planted himself down, staring the man in the eyes before nodding.

“now, Shinsou, we really appreciate everything you’ve done for this organization, but with the recent rampant villain attacks, we feel it best to place you on temporary leave until things blow over. that may be a few weeks or a few months but we can’t have our agency tarnished by representing someone who is so…”

“villainous?”

“sure, that word could work. i was going to say odd, but nonetheless. all we need you to do is sign right here saying you understand and we’ll make sure to get the checks sent out to you to cover your pay while you’re away.”

he stared at the paper for a few moments before delicately picking it up with his hands and proceeding to rip it in half. he wasn’t sure what caused him to do that but he didn’t care. at that point, he was done being treated like some villain when he was only trying to be the best hero he could be. with a small chuckle at the man’s stunned face, he muttered an “i quit” before walking out of the office with his head held high.

by the time he arrived at your apartment door late that night, he was absolutely panicking. how could he just quit his job as a hero so easily? he fought tooth and nail to be the best version of himself and it seemed to never be enough. he was in near tears when you opened the door, a confused look on your face before you motioned for him to come in and sit down on your couch, offering him a glass of water as you sat waiting for him to speak.

“Shinsou, what’s wrong?” you finally asked with a sigh, placing your hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing up and down.

“i-i quit my job, i just did it. i don’t know what came over me but they wanted to put me on leave and sign some dumb non-disclosure agreement and i just couldn’t do it. they fucked me over so bad and i just didn’t want to be their lackey anymore.”

you signed once more, flopping back into the couch before abruptly sitting up straight, looking him dead in the eye.

“Shinsou, i need to tell you something, okay? and i need you to listen to the whole story before you freak out on me.”

he nodded and that was the only confirmation you needed to continue.

“i’m nightcrawler. before, i was a hero and a damn good one at that. i was trained by The Hero Commission personally to be a faceless assassin. i did their bidding for the greater good, or so i told myself, but the killing became too much for me when they ordered me to kill children. i just couldn’t do it. and so they began framing me, creating me to be the bad guy that they always wanted. they’ve attempted to kill me before but they created a monster instead, someone who can fight and survive even when the odds are stacked against her. that attack that’s being blamed on me? it was them who attempted to frame me. they killed innocent people all to bring me down. the man at the nightclub? i didn’t kill him. i’ve stayed silent for awhile but i’ve been slowly building up my own army, trying to get people to join my side and my cause to fight against the injustices that are being forced upon us. Shinsou, i understand if you hate me for the rest of your life, but i also know you better than i think i should, and i know that you deep down would want to fight with me and for my cause, for the fall of The Hero Commission and the rise of something that would actually put everyone and their quirks first.”

Shinsou stared at you with a blank look in his eyes. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what was going on but you waited for him to respond. you would understand if he turned you in, understand if he killed you on the spot, but you secretly hoped that somewhere, deep down, he felt the same way that you did, fed up with being treated like a criminal, thrown to the streets like wild dogs, hunted and chased for sport.

after a few moments, you put your hands out, wrists up and pushed together as you waited for him to restrain you and take you away. he looked at you once again, this time eyes squinted together as if he was trying to figure out what you were doing.

“you can take me in. i wouldn’t be mad.”

“i’m not turning you in.”

you blinked owlishly at him, unsure of where this was going, but before you were able to speak again, he put one finger up to hush you.

“i get where you’re coming from and honestly, your ideas, your plans, they all make sense, but i don’t think i could ever be a part of that. i don’t think i’m the person that ever gets to make change. i’ll always be some outcast, and that’s okay with me.”

“Shinsou,” you started, not sure how to broach the topic, “you’re exactly what we need. a hero who fought so hard to be the best only to get shunned only when you were trying to help. i left the clue about the bar hoping someone would take notice, someone like you, that wanted to fight for a cause that meant something and now here you are. broken, confused, scarred but still strong enough to fight. we need you Shinsou. i need you.”

you held your hand out for him, waiting. you truly didn’t know if he was going to join, if he wanted to become something that he swore he never was, but they pushed him, treated him like scum and it was time for him to fight back. if he joined you, you would make sure he would never be treated that way again. instead, you would make sure he was someone who would always be included, someone who’s opinions and thoughts matter, someone who mattered.

he took a deep breath, fear and determination etched in his face before he clasped your hand in his own, squeezing firmly and looking you in the eye.

“if they want to paint us as villains, let's give them the best damn show we can.”

#shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #bnharem collab #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha

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