#he proved to himself and rain that when he makes a promise he’ll keep it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omgreally · 3 years

Note

Hi there!

Could I please make a little request for Din?

"I didn't know where else to go"

Thank you, hope you're doing ok today! ❤

Hey lovely! First off, I am SO SORRY this took so long. I know it's been months and I have nothing but terrible excuses. Hopefully this makes up for it at least a little?

Shelter M, Din Djarin/Smuggler F!Reader, 2.1k words Warnings: Angst, drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, swearing, Helmetless!Din, lil bit of making out, brief almost-but-not-quite questionable consent, unresolved sexual tension (but who knows, maybe I'll do a Part II?) Summary: Mando has nothing left, nowhere to go. Except to you.

He stands on your doorstep, a soaking wet mass of metal and muscle. The rain falls in rolling sheets, sliding through his hair, down the back of his neck, underneath his cloak and in shining rivulets over his Beskar breastplate.

Without the helm, the Mandalorian looks...smaller, somehow, deflated, but maybe that’s just the defeated look lurking in the dark space behind his eyes.

He looks drained. Empty.

It’s him, though - nobody can fake pure Beskar armor, much less the set he wears. It’s mirror-finish, reflecting your stunned expression in rain-blurred steel.

You open your mouth to say something, but fail to find the words. They all seem so inadequate to address Mando standing in front of you, maskless.

He’s not quite looking at you, his gaze alternating between the ground and somewhere beyond your left ear. You resist the urge to glance behind you, instead taking him in, cataloguing the changes since you last saw him.

It’s been months, but it usually is. His circuitous route of bounty hunting doesn’t intersect with your parts of the Rim very much, which is fine; this way your businesses don’t overlap. As a smuggler, you’re far too likely to be on the wrong end of a tracking fob, so you stay away and so does he.

Once, you were a useful connection. You’re not sure when you crossed the line into ‘ally’, much less ‘friend’. Yet here he is, staring at you through the pouring rain. Helmet off, tucked almost protectively underneath his arm.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he says, dully, and his voice sounds so different yet familiar that you experience a sense of disorientation, of the planet’s surface tilting beneath your feet as you re-orient yourself to this strange new reality where the Mandalorian comes to you for help.

Once, you would have asked for credits first. Now, all you say as you recover from your shock is, “Are you all right?” He shakes his head mutely as you step back and allow him access into your planetside flat.

It’s small, so small that his arm brushes you as he steps over the threshold. You resist the odd urge to put a hand on his shoulder; you’ve never had to comfort him before, save for buying him a round at some space dive or other after a job gone bad. This is something different. This is something else entirely.

You don’t ask what happened. You doubt he’ll give you a straight answer anyway. And you don’t ask about the helmet. He takes a seat at the kitchenette counter and sets it down on the counter in front of him. The black, empty visor stares at you silently as you fetch a bottle of something cheap and strong and hand it to him, knowing he won’t need a glass.

Mando uncaps it and takes a long drag without a word. He makes a face - so strange to see the expressions that are usually hidden by the mask of the helmet - and suppresses a cough as he hands the bottle back to you. You shake your head and set it down next to the Beskar headpiece.

You’re not known for your empathy, and neither is he, so you settle on practicality which you know he appreciates. “Are you injured?” you ask, businesslike as you examine his face a little closer. There’s the bloom of a bruise on one temple, underneath the damp plaster of his dark hair.

“Not permanently,” he says, that trace of dry sardonicism that you usually find irresistibly hilarious now making you frown. “I’m fine,” he adds gruffly as he reads your expression. You huff, crossing your arms, but he says nothing more. Just picks up the bottle again and swigs with an audible “Ahh,” from his throat.

“Why are you here?” you ask, at last, after watching him drink for a minute in silence. Mando looks at you, at your eyes, and holds your gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment before he finally answers.

“I lost him.”

“The kid?” It feels like you’ve been hit, the air punched from your lungs. You assumed he was back on the Crest, asleep, not - gone.

You had only met the little gremlin twice, once when Mando needed fuel and ammo on the cheap, another for a place to lay low for a day or two. The weird green creature...grew on you, like a very cute fungus. His nonsensical babbling, insatiable appetite, and obvious love for the Mandalorian was infectious. You admit it; you were weak. You got fond. And, in turn, fonder of Mando himself.

And now…

“You found his people?” you manage, and it comes out in a croak. You clear your throat and Mando offers you the bottle. You take it, tossing your head back for a deep swig. It burns going down and warms the suddenly-cold cavity inside your chest.

“Yeah,” Mando says. “He’s...he’s safe, now.” The he was never safe with me is unspoken but you hear it anyway. You pass the bottle back to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and mean it. “I know...I know it was never a permanent arrangement, but he clearly meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at his helmet before fitting the rim of the bottle to his lips, tossing his head back and draining the rest of its contents in several long gulps.

You watch the shape of his throat bob in his neck above the wet snarl of his cloak and look away quickly. A buzz is building in your veins already and he’s had most of the bottle - you’re surprised he’s still upright.

“You holing up in your junker tonight?” you wonder, after casting around for a change of subject. An expression of pain crosses Mando’s face, a grimace not caused by the alcohol, for just a second before it’s gone.

“The Crest is gone. Melted to slag and dust.” He says it without inflection, and that’s how you know it’s hurting him.

“Fuck,” you summarize elegantly. Mando nods.

“I haven’t got anything left,” he states. “No ship. No credits. No more favors to call in. Nothing.”

You reach out, more out of anger than anything else, and grab his hand, squeezing so tightly that the wet leather squelches. “Stop it,” you say harshly. “You have everything you need. You’re a kriffing Mandalorian.”

He snorts, pulling his hand away - with some effort. “Not anymore.” He stares down at his helmet, and beneath the scruff and fuzz and rain, his lips press together in a tight line.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I broke my Creed,” he shrugs, setting a hand atop the smooth dome of Beskar. “More than once. Didn’t matter at the time. All that mattered...was saving the kid. Making sure he was safe.”

“Mission fucking accomplished, then,” you say, shaking your head. “You pick yourself up. You rebuild. You move on.”

“How can I?” He meets your gaze, and you flinch at the dark intensity of his - something molten, furious there that you’re suddenly afraid of. You haven’t forgotten the promise of violence coiled in his every limb. “I have nothing to go back to. Nowhere to go. That’s why I’m here.” He waves a gloved hand with obvious disgust, and for some reason, that hurts, a sting behind your breastbone like something almost physical.

Mando must see the look on your face, for he wilts like damp lettuce. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine. I get it,” you say brusquely, your words clipped. You take the empty bottle from the counter, your fingers curling around the neck and squeezing, hard. “You come in here, beaten-up, drink my alcohol and drip all over my floors - but I’m the last place you’d go. I get it.”

He rises to his feet, and you forgot how tall he is, how broad. And despite - ormaybe because of - the unfamiliarity of his helmetless appearance, Mando is still intimidating. You don’t shrink back, though; you square your shoulders and your jaw and lift your chin in challenge.

“You’re the last person I’d put in danger,” he says in a low voice, a voice that stirs a strange sensation in the pit of your guts that you haven’t felt in a very, very long time.

“You forget what I do for a living?” you manage, your mouth suddenly dry. You swallow past it, tasting the aftertaste of alcohol and your own misplaced nervousness.

“I’ve been hunted from one end of the galaxy to the other,” he continues in that same husky baritone that makes your knuckles go white. “I wasn’t going to bring that down on you.”

“I appreciate that,” you manage, diplomatically - but he’s not having it, staring you down like his life depends on keeping eye contact. “But I’m a big girl. I can handle things myself.”

He looks you up and down - just once - but with such practiced ease that it makes you wonder how many times he’s done the same thing from beneath the visor. You shiver despite yourself.

“I know,” he says, and then before you can move or react or think, he lunges into your space and kisses you.

If you were shocked by Mando’s sudden appearance, you’re fucking floored by this. You don’t know how to react at first but he proves quickly to be competent enough at this to coax your lips apart with his and get you to kiss him back.

He tastes like a distant hint of blood and smoke and his body is solid as his arm snakes round your waist without you noticing and he pulls you to him. He holds you so that you’ll have to twist away to escape and with the confidence that says he knows you won’t want to.

And you don’t.

Instead you let the bottle fall and it clatters forgotten to the ground as you grab him by the pauldrons and let him lick into your mouth with the answering surge of your tongue and your hips pressing to his.

Mando kisses you like he needs to, and you realize that he’s half-hard already, impatiently nudging a knee between your thighs and pressing you to the wall. You break from his mouth to breathe and wonder if he’s ever had anything but this - a wild, fervid fumble of hurriedly-parted clothes and tangled limbs.

You don’t want to be this for him - a receptacle for his despair, his rage. You have too much of your own to deal with. But you can’t deny that you’ve thought about this, imagined something similar to this very scenario - but you never counted on the weight of emotion that comes with it.

“Stop, Mando,” you say as he sucks bruises into your neck, the edges of his teeth making your breath catch on nothing. He goes still, but his hands are tight on your hips, holding you to him. You can feel his breath, heavy and warm in your ear.

“Not like this,” you tell him. “You can stay, but we’re not doing this. Not like this.”

At first you think he’s not going to let you go, and the thrill that passes through you from the thought is unconscionable. But then his grip loosens and his leg withdraws and he steps back, out of your space. You rub your face with hands you can’t admit are shaking before finally looking up at him.

He looks wrecked. Broken. Staring at the ground, damp hair hanging over his forehead, and you catch the trembling twitch of his bottom lip even as he ducks his head to try to hide it.

“You can take my bunk,” you tell him. “We’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

For a second you think he’s going to argue, or just...walk out. Relief blooms in you as he nods. He turns without a word to retrieve his helmet before he retreats down the hall.

You watch him go, and the slump to his shoulders breaks your heart. But he’s staying, and that’s something.

You never thought you’d have a broken Mandalorian sleeping in your bunk.

And you’re not sure if you regret the fact that you’re not there next to him.

#request #din djarin/f!reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #mando/you #mando/reader #mando/f!reader #mando x you #din djarin x you

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE

Summary: Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART -->

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?”

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time.

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement.

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all.

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.”

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh.

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back.

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences?

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol.

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones.

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles.

“It’s just--so old and tacky.”

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?”

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter.

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart.

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form.

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him.

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

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slasherscream · 3 years

Note

Hi I don’t know if you write for Thomas Hewitt or Vincent Sinclair but if you do you could you please make some headcanons about them and the other slashers like if they got into a fight with their s/o and how it would go, what it would be about, and how they would make up with their s/o please? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to. But if you do then thank you so much!

fighting with the slashers

A/N: i do write for vincent (on a related note i also write for bo and maybe lester i haven’t tried him out yet)!

vincent sinclair

You didn’t stay put when Vincent told you to and you got hurt.

You hadn’t planned to leave. Until the sun started to go down and no one came back to the house to check up on you the way they so often do when there are visitors in town.

You are Ambrose’s second best kept secret. Alive because Vincent took one look at you and couldn’t bare to hurt you. And though Bo gripes about you he couldn’t tell Vincent no. Not when Bo saw the way Vincent held you behind him, head lowered but shoulders set, ready to actually fight him on something for once in their lives.

So you’re kept in the house when there are people around. Other than not being able to leave it’s your only real rule. Vincent wants you to have no part in the more grisly aspects of the town and Bo and Lester honor his wish.

But the town is dead silent and no one has come to check on you. Most times Lester even comes to stay with you like some sort of babysitter. It used to irritate you, despite your fondness for the youngest brother. Now without him there your hands shake, and your eyes wander, and your ears burn as if pumping extra blood there will make you hear better. But there’s nothing to be heard. No screams. No cries. No Bo shouting. No guns going off.

So you leave the house, searching for one of them. Instead you’re found by a survivor and held hostage in front of the twins.

You all stand still for a long while, the victim not knowing what to do and the boys unable to move due to the knife digging into your neck, already drawing blood.

Lester had been the one to save you, sneaking up behind your captor and stabbing them. You ran to Vincent on shaking legs and he gathered you into his arms, moving to take you back home. You could hear the screams of the man who’d almost killed you ringing through the streets behind you and shivered.

Vincent had cleaned your cut in silence and somehow had managed to barely touch you. Before you could blink he’d shut himself into his workshop and you were left alone until Bo came home and chewed you out.

You kept yourself busy cleaning and then prepared for bed, knowing it would be awhile before Vincent would come and join you. The sleep didn’t come easy as you were still shaken up, but eventually it came.

You woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and realized that if you didn’t go to get him Vincent wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

You walk drowsily through Ambrose’s underbelly, the smoldering heat not doing you any favors, until you arrive at Vincent’s workshop where he’s hunched over his desk, unmoving.

Not wanting to startle him you call his name quietly and you see his head tilt in acknowledgement but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Slowly you move until your front is resting against his back, even slower your arms encircle him and you kiss his shoulder, feeling guilty at the tension laying dormant in them. “I’m sorry, Vince. I was just worried about you so... so I left the house. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I won’t do it again.”

He turns and there’s a pause, and then he moves his hands, fluid but slow. They’re shaking despite how strong you know they are. He tells you how he can’t lose you. How he loves you. He asks you to promise him that next time you’ll listen and you do, and you mean it.

It’s only then that he pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. You think he’s crying behind his mask but you just hold him back equally as tight and whisper I’m sorry against his steady pulse.

pelle

He doesn’t like the company you keep.

He has a plan. He has a plan to take you away from this strange, uncaring world that doesn’t deserve you. That doesn’t love you or care about you. If he sticks to the plan everything will be so easy.

But sometimes Pelle loves you too much to bite his tongue.

He can see it clearly, your perfect future where he takes care of you, and his family takes care of you, and you let them do it, and you’re happier for it; but you don’t live in that perfect future, you live in the frigid, imperfect present.

Here you stay up late in the night to help a friend finish a term paper when last week they didn’t even call when you were sick. You gave a classmate your umbrella to borrow a month ago, and today you come back shaking from the rain because they never bothered to return it.

A thousand little kindnesses that the world outside the Hårga spit on.

He knows that all these moments of careless apathy towards you will only strengthen the draw you’ll feel when you finally meet his family.

You have the heart of a Hårga and he knows that you’ll feel that connection.

Still, the way the outside world, the way your friends and family slight you at every turn, makes his blood run hot. He’s never felt anger like this before. It is all consuming and yet he must stomach it alone.

And so his tongue is careless sometimes. He asks in tones that he shouldn’t use with you “you’re going out with them again?” and “but didn’t they-?” and still he is angry. The words do not ease the feelings because they do not fix the problem.

Pelle must lead you into the arms of his family and their way of life. He cannot push you. But he doesn’t know how not to take care of you.

He wants to beat away the leeches and moths that cling to your light and whisk you away to home where the sun will warm you with its love.

Your fights are gentle, and so you might never refer to them as fights when people ask you if you ever argue with Pelle.

There is no yelling, or balled fists, or the animal sensation of fight or flight. He leads you to sit down with him and holds your face in his hands. Unthinkingly you mimic the gesture and he smiles at you lovingly. One kiss and he tells you that he doesn’t like your friends. Another and he says that you deserve better, deserve the world.

You try to get a word in edgewise, to deny the claims he makes, to tell him that they really do care about you, but the words are smothered by his soft lips. He kisses you until your brain goes somewhere loved and numb. He slips your coat off of your shoulders and pulls you close. He keeps you there until you forget that you had anywhere to be besides his arms.

You and Pelle don’t fight.

chucky and tiffany

Tiffany is used to Chucky being a piece of shit. You are not.

Upside to fighting with Chucky is that Tiffany is immediately on your side, even if you’re in the wrong (I’m joking it’s always Chucky’s fault.)

Downside is that the whole house is now up in fucking chaos.

chucky: tiff where are my fucking keys?

tiffany: in hell! why don’t you go and grab them?

You appreciate her fighting spirit but she’s really going in on y’all’s man.

Which is not to say that Chucky doesn’t deserve it. Because he does deserve it, but you know from personal experience that being on Tiffany’s bad side is scary.

Why are you and Chucky fighting? Chucky is an insensitive asshole, and even the toughest skin isn’t bullet proof.

The aftermath of whatever Chucky did is a lot of sullen silence from you; the sounds of a knife chopping a little too loudly in the kitchen from Tiff; and loud bits of huffing and puffing from Chucky as he stomps around the house.

At first he thinks he can just wait out your anger until you start missing him. It used to work with Tiffany all the time!

But this relationship involves three people. You’re not so quick to get desperately lonely, especially if Tiffany isn’t the partner you’re fighting with. Do you miss Chucky? Sure. Do you miss him enough to let him be an asshole just to get some cuddle time in on the couch? As if! Tiffany is the better cuddler anyway.

The man child is going to have to say sorry and mean it.

Of course this means that your relationship is going be sans-Chucky for at least a week.

Tiffany reaches the breaking point before Chucky does. Obviously more in-tune with your feelings she can tell how much the fight is getting to you and no one messes with her sweetheart! Not even Chucky.

You’re going to hear her delicately clearing her throat, look up from your phone, and find Tiffany holding Chucky at fucking knife point.

tiffany: do you have anything to say, chucky?

chucky, trying to decide if he’ll let tiffany kill him just to prove a point: ....

tiffany: i’ll start with your dick-

chucky: i’m sorry! are you fucking hAPPY?!

You’re gonna be like no!!! I do not accept the apology you gave me under extreme duress! At which point you turn over in bed and pull the covers over your head.

You’ll hear rapid-fire whispering and then the bed dips behind you. A knee presses into your back, and kisses are pressed carelessly to where your head should be beneath the covers. Then, finally, the quietest “I didn’t mean it, doll.” as he pulls the blanket back in order to look at your face.

You’re stopped dead by the softness on his face. By the softness he let’s you see, even if it’s only for a moment. It might not be the words I’m sorry but it sounds like them. It sounds like an I miss you, as well.

When you drop your phone and throw your arms around his neck, touching him for the first time in a week, Chucky sighs in relief.

Not ten seconds passes before Tiffany has thrown herself over the both of you, suffocating you in her loving embrace. Just like that, balance is restored in the Lee Ray-Valentine household. For now.

#vincent sinclair x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #pelle x reader #tiffany valentine x reader x chucky #slasher x reader #charles lee ray x reader #bride of chucky #house of wax #not my first thing for vincent being sad adjifjd #the juxtaposition between vincent's part of this post and the poly tiff and chucky part??#fill.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

Hmm maybe a head canon with a reader and firstyears where the reader has Rapunzels magic healing hair? (From the movie Tangled😂)

Maybe something like one of the first years gets seriously injured and the reader is able to heal them 🧐

Also just wanted say you’re writings is just 🥰❤️💕✨ A M A Z I N G . It’s also my first time requesting so I think I did everything according to the rules but if not feel free to delete this request 😂

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Trust Floyd to get a little too rough with his juniors during a practice match of basketball. As a result of the overzealous eel, Ace sustained a seriously sprained ankle, making it hard for him to play, let alone walk (although it’s more like a limp now).

While he’s midargument with Coach Vargas about whether or not he’ll be good to play at their next match, you kneel by Ace’s injury and volunteer to give some relief to it. Ace scoffs at your suggestion and jokingly tells you to “give it your best shot”, not expecting much of anything to happen.

He jolts back in surprise when you wrap your hair around his sprained ankle and start singing (he thinks you definitely lost your mind or something). Then your hair starts to glow, and Ace’s concern is replaced with confusion. It doesn’t last too long though, as he’s soon pestering you with a ton of comments.

“Oi, since when did you have such a fancy spell up your sleeve? You never told me you could do something like that!!” Ace complains, pouting. “It would’ve been nice to know about earlier, you know! Magic like that’d really come in handy for tight pinches like this.”

The coach calls for him to rejoin the practice match—Ace rolls his eyes, but gets up anyway, helping you up along the way. With a cheeky grin, he whispers to you, “Alright, watch this. As thanks for fixing me up, I’ll get a slam dunk in your honor. Don’t take your eyes off me, ‘kay?”

Deuce tears some muscles in his legs from overexerting himself for track and field training. He’s eager to prove himself to the senpai in his club (which can’t be done with an injury), so he’s relieved to hear that you might have a way to help him out!

He’s curious about your mysterious ability and plays the part of a perfect patient in order to observe it for himself. Deuce sits still and marvels as you go about your work, asking every so often if there’s something he can do to help, or to make the process easier for you.

He audibly “oohs” and “aahs” when the magic begins, filling the space with a golden light. It’s a pretty-looking and soft magic, totally unlike the brute force spells he often opts for—it’s something Deuce can really appreciate!

When the torn muscle has mended, he can barely believe it!! Deuce prods the injured area and inspects it all over? just to make sure it’s not some kind of prank. “Whoa...! The pain’s all gone, and even swelling’s gone down. You’ve got some really amazing healing magic, (Y/N)...!! Thank you so much, I’m eternally in your debt for this!”

Deuce thanks you profusely, shouting his gratitude and bowing his head to you multiple times. He even promises to buy you a chocolate milk from the cafeteria as thanks—but for now, he has to get back to his training! “I promise I’ll be more careful this time! I can’t always have you worrying about me, right?”

Like Deuce, Jack’s been pushing himself a little too hard for Track and Field Club—but unlike Deuce, he’s far more reluctent to ask for and accept help from others. He eyes you suspicously as you approach and offer assistance. Jack only accepts after some pushing from the coach—he doesn’t want to let the team down!

He’s tough, so he doesn’t flinch or shy away when you proceed to wrap your hair around his site of injury. The most Jack does is raise an eyebrow when you start with your song.

Jack doesn’t realize you need to recite the incantation to get the healing to work, so he interrupts you during your first attempt with, “... You don’t need to sing. Life’s not a big musical.” (Surprisingly, your glowing hair doesn’t bother him as much—he thinks of heat and light as necessary byproducts of using magic.)

The first thing he does when you free him is flex and test out his repaired muscles. A few lunges, a few squats... all of which he performs with ease. Jack grunts, a short but simple way of expressing his satisfaction.

Hd gives you a small smile and a firm nod, impressed by your healing powers. “... Thanks for this. I’m back to tip-top shape for the track and field meet. I owe you one.”

Magift is a pretty rough sport—so it’s no surprise when Epel suffers from a nasty collison, leaving him with a broken arm. He tries to be brave through the pain, but it’s clear that he’s having a hard time keeping it together.

He’s a little on guard when you kneel beside him and ask to see his wound, but Epel eventually relents when you promise you’re there to help. He watches you carefully, expecting you to whip out a first aid kit—but when you wrap your hair instead of bandages on his wound, Epel gets a little upset!

Slipping into his country accept, Epel lets loose on you. “Hey, do ya think ah’m some kinda idiot? Are ya makin’ fun of me? ‘Course hair’s not gonna make me right as rain again! Ya might as well spit on it instead, that’d be just as effective as hair!”

But your soft song shushes his worries, and he finds himselc staring in disbelief as your hair gives off a faint light. Epel quietly marvels at the strange magic, even long after you’ve removed your hair from him.

“I... I didn’t know you could do that,” he gasps, gingerly prodding the area where his injury once was. No pain, no tenderness. Epel’s face brightens. “I really am better! I can play Magift again!! Thank you, thank you so much! Ah... um, and about what I said before, please forget that! I might have jumped to conclusions with that...”

Poor Sebek had been partnered with one of the more aggressive equines in the stables for the Horseback Riding Club’s meeting. (His thunderous voice did nothing to help soothe the horse...) His aggressive mare had bucked so hard that she threw Sebek right off of her, causing him to land with a sharp CRACK on the ground.

Of course, you rush over to help right away (despite Sebek’s protests). He makes a fuss as you secure your arm around a broken long bone, demanding to know what an insigificant human such as yourself plans to do to help him. It is not until you begin your healing song that Sebek shuts up.

His jaw drops upon witnessing your magical hair in action. Clearly, he is awestruck by the magnitude of your abilities—but when he is finally able to close his mouth and speak his mind, Sebek’s words do not quite match his physical reaction.

“To think that a mere human is capable of performing such a miraculous feat... I must admit, it is rather impressive,” Sebek confesses—though his voice still carries a tone of arrogance. “However!! As a student of the great Diasomnia dorm, I can assure you that an injury as minor as this could not deter me in my physical activities! There was no need for your intervention, human!”

He returns to his feet, dusts himself off, and marches back to mount his horse. Just as Sebek is atop the aggressive mare again, he casts you a glance over his shoulder. “... Regardless, you have my gratitude. See to it that you continue to put that power of yours to good use.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Sebek Zigvolt #Jack Howl #Epel Felmier #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland requests #Reader #self insert #curiouser and curiouser

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cockslutpadalecki · 3 years

Text

All The Good Girls Go To Hell (18)

Summary: When Sam marries into Y/N’s family he naively believes she’s a little princess incapable of putting a step wrong. But once he comes face to face with evidence that proves she’s far from angelic which also implicates his own brother in her misdeeds, Sam finds himself battling against his own moral judgement.

Characters: Step Dad!Sam x Step Daughter!Reader, Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader.

Words: 2954.

Warnings: stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, step uncle/step niece relationship, oral sex (male and female receiving), sexting, rough sex, major degradation, dirty talk, female masturbation, daddy kink, size kink, cheesy double entendres, Dean's filthy whore mouth, consensual amateur pornography, thigh riding, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, threesomes, face/throat fucking, overstimulation, dom/sub themes, Sammy being an absolute deviant, cream pies, sloppy seconds, cum eating, spit-roasting, a little angst, mentions of grooming, mentions of rape. Assume all tags will apply to every chapter and warnings may differ/alter as story progresses.

A/N: As always, your comments and reblogs get me through the week. You're the best. Beta: @deanwanddamons but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Masterlists can be found in my pinned post. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

Chapters nineteen and twenty already available on Patreon.

SERIES MASTERLIST

You’ve never heard your mom yell so loud, her shrill voice echoing through the now silent house. Without the acoustics of the music to shield it, you hear every word out of her mouth— swears and all.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, your thighs still tremble from your climax while Sam’s cum dries against your puffy folds. Fatigue claims every muscle and bone in your body, urging you to sleep, but you can’t.

Eyes drifting to your cell, you itch to text Dean, warn him of the impending thunderstorm that is bound to rain down on him in a matter of hours, but knowing your every move is no doubt going to be monitored from now on, you manage to stop yourself just as you reach for it.

You crave the reassurance your uncle always manages to give you— promising that everything will be alright even when he knows it won’t be. You don’t care that it would be laced with lies and uncertainty, just needing that false sense of security to keep you from surrendering to the anxiousness settling in your bones.

You hear your mother calling Dean a monster— deviant— pervert, and while in the eyes of everyone else, he’ll be regarded as such, you don’t see him that way. You’re as much to blame for this as he is, yet you know that you’ll be painted as a victim when you were more than willing to divulge in your wicked fantasies. You don’t realise how upset you truly are at the situation until you feel your eyes brimming with tears before one rushes down your cheek, pooling into your lap.

Not even bothering to slip out of your dress, you bring your legs up, curling them under you as you lay your head wearily onto your pillow, glassy eyes staring at your window as a spark of an idea filters through your melancholy.

Your window leads out onto the roof of the conservatory, and down into the garden. Slipping through the side gate would be an easy escape route if ever you needed one. You could make a run for it, warn Dean to get out of town, and for a moment your legs twitch, expecting you to jump up on the count of three to put your plan into action, but after the sixth round of numbers circling in your head, sleep claims you before you have chance to get to the seventh.

Sam watches Audrey stalk up and down the kitchen, an indignant darkness pulling at her normally soft features. Y/N’s laptop sits open on the island, the screen now dark, but Sam can somehow still see the lewd texts burnt into the display, the back and forth between her and Dean from earlier that evening. Inside his blood boils, furious at her carelessness for failing to see the job through properly, but he knows he is somewhat at fault.

He remembers the night she came to him asking her for his help to restore the old computer to its factory settings, wanting to give it to her little brother for Christmas. But he can only recall segments of his guidance, the lesson in technology quickly overshadowed by the need to bend her over his office desk while the house was conveniently empty. The memory of her pert little ass marred with his fingerprints makes his cock twitch just as his brain reminds him bluntly that her slick still clings to his flesh from their rushed encounter earlier this evening.

You’re just as bad as your brother, he internally rebukes as the sound of Audrey’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Did you know about this?” she snaps, regarding the laptop like it’s infectious.

“Of course I didn’t,” Sam responds, aghast. “How could you possibly assume such a thing?”

Deep down he’s grateful the videos of Y/N and Dean were wiped months ago at his own behest, fearful of this very situation, but it doesn’t change the fact his older brother’s texts are just as incriminating without them. And as much as he craved to video her himself, his cock nestled within her perfect pink folds, he’s thankful the fantasy has remained securely in his head.

“Because you should be more outraged. That man defiled my daughter, Sam.”

“Our daughter,” he quickly corrects.

“You brought that monster into our home,” she objects, raising a finger at him, and points it in anger. ”You don’t have the right to call her that.”

Sam can feel the familiar scratch of tears at his eyes, and his throat constricts, hurt by her words. She’s right— he doesn’t deserve to call her that, especially after all, he had defiled her too. In more ways than one. But despite the very inappropriate direction their relationship has taken, Sam still loves her irrevocably.

“Audrey, please—”

“How can you stand there so calmly?” she rages, hands balled tightly at her sides. ”Why aren’t you busting down that deviant’s door, threatening him? He raped our daughter, for Christ sake!”

“Because—”

“Because what?” she yells. “Don’t you dare try and defend what he has done! I don’t care that he’s your fucking brother!”

“I’m not, sweetheart, I just don’t understand,” he offers. “There has to be some explanation.”

“What possible explanation could there be, Sam? He groomed her, manipulated her, had se—” she squeaks, voice breaking as she dissolves into a fit of tears. Sam quickly closes the gap between them, enveloping her in his arms, and when she collapses against his chest, he hopes she can’t detect the smell of her daughter clinging to him.

“What can I do?” he queries softly after a few minutes when her cries dwindle to mirthless sobs, still fraught with despair.

“Keep your pervert brother away from her,” she warns into the warmth of his shirt, before glancing up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “Because if he so much as comes within a hundred yards of this house, Sam, I’ll murder him myself.”

He doesn’t doubt her statement for a moment.

Grabbing the laptop from the kitchen counter with the intent of locking it away someplace safe, Sam makes sure to give the kitchen a quick once over for any appliances that may have been left on, shutting off all the lights when he’s satisfied everything is powered down.

Audrey had finally retreated to bed over an hour ago, and while Sam promised he’d follow minutes later, he found himself sitting alone, nursing a bottle of scotch that he had hidden away in the back of one of the cupboards.

The alcohol seemed to help settle his restlessness briefly, until it began to blur and muddy his thoughts to the point he knew he needed sleep, despite knowing it would all be in vain the moment his head hit the pillow.

One last check of the kitchen and Sam turns in the hall, noticing Bobby hovering awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?” he asks tenderly, knowing Bobby feels in part responsible for— in his own words, ‘ruining the party’, despite how much Sam had reassured him it wasn’t. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he sniffs. “I didn’t know it was going to get Y/N in trouble.”

“It’s okay buddy, you didn’t know. You did the right thing,” Sam reassures him with a calm voice, even though deep down he’s terrified.

It’s still dark out when you wake up from a nightmare, neck sore and stiff from the awkward angle you passed out in. Your outfit from the night before is creased and damp against your skin, so as you pull it off over your head, you reach for your oversized t-shirt before slumping back onto the bed, pausing to check your phone for the time.

6am.

You turn over, about to snuggle under the covers and rest for a few more hours when the plan that was circling inside your brain last night pops back into existence. A sigh escapes from between your lips, wishing you had been more thorough in your attempts to clear your old computer of anything damning. You really thought you had— at least the abundance of videos that Sam requested be deleted were definitely gone when you checked it over one last time, but it didn’t help the fact that your secret with Uncle Dean has well and truly been discovered.

You can’t explain why the texts from him are still on the laptop. The longer you sit on the edge of your bed racking your brain for a logical explanation, the memory of asking Sam for your help in reverting it back to a blank slate but becoming… distracted halfway through skitters through your mind.

Sneaking across the hall to the bathroom, the house is silent. Would Sam really have woken up at his usual 5am for a morning run? As you slink past their bedroom, you can hear his light snores through the door, the sound of it slightly comforting as you recall those mornings where you’d wake up next to him after a night with him and Dean, cuddled into his side like it wasn’t the most inappropriate situation in the world.

With your parents both fast asleep, and Bobby comatose until at least mid-afternoon, you know now was the perfect time.

You’ve never wished you could shower away Sam’s scent from your skin before, but you know the sound of the shower running would only disturb the quiet so make the decision to grab one at Dean’s— if you make it there.

Returning from the bathroom, you sneak back to your room with a little haste in your gait. You pull on a pair of jeans and sneakers from your closet, choosing to grab one of Dean’s loaned sweaters to wear over the top of your t-shirt.

You head towards your window, and tug it open before climbing out onto the roof. Dawn is a long way from breaking, the night sky still an inky black as you glance up at the bright moon illuminating the proverbial path ahead of you. At this early hour, you know Dean is bound to still be in the land of nod, no doubt sleeping off the drunken stupor he likely ended up in after the New Year’s celebrations, but it’s now or you might never see him again.

For a minute you pause, afraid of what— or who you might find at his apartment, however you can’t trouble your mind of the what ifs right now and let them hinder your plan. You need to warn your uncle.

Sam wakes to the sound of Audrey screaming.

Not the kind you’d expect if you caught a spider in the shower, or stubbed your toe on the foot of the couch— but a blood-curdling wail like she was having her heart ripped from her chest.

He bolts out of bed, bypassing time to dress, and bounds into the hall to find her. She’s standing in Y/N’s doorway, hand over her mouth as tears stream down her cheeks.

“What’s going on?” he questions, striding towards his distraught wife.

“S— she’s gone!” Audrey cries, collapsing against Sam’s chest as he reaches her. He wraps his arms around her tightly, her head snuggled into his chest while she sobs against his bare skin.

He kisses the top of her head for comfort, before turning his stare to the empty bedroom, eyes briefly landing on the sight of the crumpled dress he had fucked her in the night before, which to Sam, now felt like a lifetime ago. Swallowing down the memory with an awkward clearing of his throat, he continues to look around noticing her phone is gone from her nightstand, but the small divot in her pillow shows her bed has been slept in recently, his thoughts fondly recalling the way she would always fluff any bumps or dips out of the pillows she used in the hotels they stayed in before sleeping on them.

He closes his eyes, trying to take his mind off of her to no avail before opening them again, gaze diverting to the small gap between the window and sill, her pretty pink curtains gently billowing in the bitter January breeze.

Dean’s on his sixth mug of coffee by the time Sam shows up, his frantic rapping at the front door startling you from the sleepy daze you’re in, head resting in Dean’s lap while his fingers stroked softly at the base of your skull as you drifted in and out of troubled sleep.

Once he realised you hadn’t shown up to make up for the lack of celebratory New Year sex, your features screwed up in fear, your uncle was extremely accommodating. He wrapped you in a blanket, hugging the warmth back into you for a while until you told him you wanted to rest. You tried to sleep in his bed, the faint smell of his aftershave clinging to the material of his sheets, but it evaded you, the extreme fatigue that had claimed you the night before was all but gone.

Which is how you ended up curled up on the couch, just happy to feel Dean’s touch on your skin. After Halloween, you felt sick every time you looked at him, the image of him fucking that damn hooker burned into your retinas. It took weeks to allow him anywhere near you after that. You knew he was by no means exclusively yours, like you were to him and Sam, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t be hurt by the thought of them enjoying their time with other women.

And when you burst into tears as he stripped you during their next visit, they knew they had pushed you too far. It was a line they promised they would never cross again.

It was three weeks into December when you let him back into your bed. Foolish girl, your brain had rebuked after the first orgasm, but by the time your third crested, all of your resolve crumbled into dust, and Dean had spent every moment he could reminding you that you were, and always would be, his girl.

While you rub the sleep from your eyes, Dean strides to the door and opens it, allowing his little brother entry. As soon as Sam’s eyes land on you, his shoulders slump, letting relief settle heavily into his joints. For a moment you think you see his eyes cloud over, but his features soon re-harden once the appeasement of finding you wears off.

Sam rolls his tongue into the side of his cheek before laughing with incredulity. “Shoulda fuckin’ known.”

“Sammy—”

The younger Winchester raises a finger towards his brother, eyes still trained firmly on you. “Stay outta this, Dean. You’ve already done enough.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you croak.

“Isn’t this where you always end up?” he points out, his tone sour. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you fled here.

“What are you gonna tell mom?”

Sam shrugs. “That you were at Janey’s.”

“Th— thank you.”

“I don’t want your thanks,” he snaps, pulling out his cell. “Now I’m gonna call your mom, let her know you’re okay, and then we’re going home.”

“I’m not going back there.”

“Oh, yes you are. We’ve gotta clean up this mess,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “And get that laptop back from your brother before he finds anything else.”

You slump back against the couch, arms folded across your chest in an attempt to close yourself off, hating the way Sam’s speaking to you.

“But I wiped it,” you point out.

“Well, you didn’t do it well enough.”

“I don’t know why you’re so pissed, it’s not like he found anything that could incriminate you.”

Sam roars, swiping his fist at the nearest inanimate object, sending a lamp flying to the floor. He glares down at you, jaw set hard and firm.

“That’s not the point. You were careless enough to leave your iCloud connected, what else were you careless about, hm?”

“Dude, chill. Give her a break,” Dean interrupts, stepping between you. “The kid messed up, okay?”

“No Dean, I will not chill.” He paces up and down the lounge, one hand on his hip while the other scrapes down his beard. “Audrey is about ready to have you arrested for raping her, and I’m doing all I can to convince her not to.”

“But he didn’t. Neither of you did. I wanted this,” you argue, eyes prickling hot with tears.

“Your mother won’t see it like that,” he snaps in your direction. “Especially if she finds out I’m just as guilty.”

You look away in defiance, staring down at the floor as he and Dean continue to argue back and forth about how to proceed. Their words pinball around in your skull which just makes your head throb, and soon you can’t refrain from butting in.

“Stop,” you yell thickly. They both glance down at you, your stepfather’s features softening the moment he clocks the dampness on your cheeks. “Just— stop, please.”

Sam comes to squat at your feet, hands resting delicately on your knees. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m gonna fix this.”

The voice that escapes you is childlike and timid. “This is all my fault.”

He reaches up, thumbing away your tears gently as he flashes you a sympathetic smile, and while you know that you and Dean created this entire tangled mess, you appreciate the lie Sam feeds you, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you otherwise. No wonder he’s one of the most successful lawyers in the city.

“Nothing could be further from the truth.”

***

Please note I have tagged you if you showed interest in the story so far. If you’d like to be taken off, please let me know.

ATGGGTH: @squirrelnotsam @awesomesusiebstuff @deans-baby-momma @xhannahbananax03 @atc74 @wavesofafeather @spnfamily-j2 @pastathighs @passionpunch @southernbell91 @beautifulbowleggedangel @welldonebeca @bobbie3939 @kazkingdom @lyarr24 @nihilismworld @charmed-asylum @sycochick @sandlee44 @stuckys-whore @moosekateer13 @beth-winchester21 @yoongi-holland @lovelyrocker @dr7girl @fictionalabyss @midnightmystic @abbirae99 @the-fever-of-mankind @maresmiley @rebel-author-chick @salt-n-burn-em-all @desisamslut @okilover02 @kittenofdoomage @kittenmstr @destielstuffandthings @chamberofsloths @quietgirll75 @splendidcas @amisha25 @chenshemesh1 @queenmadi2 @spideysimpossiblegirl @i-make-questionable-choices @bitchoftheclouds @amirra88 @nerdwholikesword @4theloveoffanfiction @djj1999 @nurse-unicorn @spaceybissh @deanandsamsbitch @im-catching-feelings @ficpantry @winchester-girl96 @omgspnfanfiction @mistofellee @flutistbyday2020 @polyamorous-winchester @idabbleincrazy @mstsukii @allinhishands @winchesterswoonathon @traceyaudette @jbbarnesgirl @hawkerz12 @cluz1babe @why-hello-sweetheart @slutmutton @ares-raye @stayfrostystilinski @lady-pswrld @fandomismyspirit @high-ashell-hargrove @biceraswitch @bee-a-sams-girlx @nekocookie11 @beardburnsupersoldiers @cltex84 @hhiggs @d-whinchestergirl87�� @bxxbxy @pandaxo79 @mrstarksslut @deandreamernp @wonder-cole @deep-in-my-thoughts13 @deansmyapplepie @bxnnywriting @ladydeathboobs @supernaturalgrandma @knuffeltuff @quietwitchsworld @melancauliflowers @meeshw777 @ladywinchester1967 @my-obsession-spn @lifeofrileyp @annaisha74 @supernatural3002 @rattwritesfics @bobbysxidgits @bangtasticbobby @taintedgenre @fortheloveofallthatsholy @purr-se-phone @notinlovewithdeanwinchester @ajeff855 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @midnight-dreams-23 @mylove-isnot-fragile

Supernatural: @angelofthetrenchcoats @ambthegamer @akshi8278 @becs-bunker @caspleasesavemyass @clemanime @deanwanddamons @deans-mind-palace @deanwinchesterswitch @deanloveboi @dawnie1988 @doctor-hp-mcu @downanddirtydean @ellewritesfix05 @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @fanngirl19 @gayasslookinass @gabbywindsor @heavensangel45135 @hoboal87 @hobby27 @inlovewithspencerfuckingreid @joseyrw @katymacsupernatural @katelynw93 @michellemxndes @mrswhozeewhatsis @peachyafshawn @patrick-hockslutter @pinkshenanigan @quxxnxfhxll @spnbaby-67 @stoneyggirl @sammykb1994 @sharp-cheekbones-locked @shylittlewolf @sidbecross @tumbler-tidbits @tvdspngirl314 @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @uncreativezx @vicmc624 @waywardbaby @winchest09

Forever: @akumune @amandamdiehl @buttercandy16 @crashdevlin @castiel-has-bees @daughterofthenight117 @donnaintx @danneelsmain @dandywinchesterbras @dumbbitchenergy17 @death-unbecomes-you @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @hurricanerin @hoewkeye @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @itsjustfics @itsthedoctah10 @imyournewfairygodmother @imcastiel-youassbutt @jewelswrites-ish @jenmisheels-bi-kid @letsby @letsdisneythings @multi-fandom-fanfiction @maddiepants @mogaruke @my-fav-imagines-17 @nightsbite @notyourtypicalrose @onethirstyunicorn @pink1031 @princessmisery666 @petitgateau911 @randomparanoid @ssworldofsw @sambucky8 @sea040561 @sillygoose6969 @sweeterthanthis @softie-socks @slutformarvelmen @that-one-gay-girl @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox @zpandaqueen

#sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (July 9/2021) - NotDream SMP

Ponk comes to Foolish with a special request.

Tommy and Tubbo work on Tommy’s house and a strange new visitor arrives on the server.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

---

- Ponk works on the Boom Station and places down signs with instructions along the corridor

- Foolish examines the damage Drista’s pig squad did in Kinoko Kingdom and repairs it

- Ponk calls Foolish as the evil version of himself. Ponk arrives there

- They walk and talk to the tree house, and Ponk breaks some news

Ponk: “You see...I am but a humble servant of this poor world, and you’re a god. Right? Loosely? Well, your godliness is pretty cool, you know? And me being a humble wanderer of this cruel world...it is not my place to take a king’s life, Foolish.”

...

Ponk: “How many kings do you know, Foolish? How many kings?”

Foolish: “I don’t know, is this a trick question?”

Ponk: “I’m pretty sure you know two, alright?”

Foolish: “Wait, who’s the second one?”

Ponk: “Eret and...Sam. You know Sam’s king of the creepers. He wears a crown on his head, do you know that? Apparently he is.”

...

Ponk: “But Foolish...if it comes, a time and a place, would you do that for me? Would you take Sam’s life, yes or no Foolish?”

Foolish: “Well, is there like a good reason for it?”

- Ponk says he’s said enough and goes back down, saying he can get other friends to do it

Foolish: “Is this for the arm? You wanna kill him for the arm? I thought you and Sam were like, best buddies.”

Ponk: “...Best buddies?! BUDDIES?! Are you mad? Are you mad?!”

Ponk: “Foolish, Foolish, if I ripped off your arm and killed you -- he killed me, Foolish! He killed me!”

Foolish: “Oh...did you have it coming?”

Ponk: “I DID NOT HAVE IT COMING, FOOLISH! I DIDN’T! You know what I did? You know what I did, Foolish? I -- it wasn’t even -- ugh, and he did that to prove a point! Now I’m doing this to prove a point, and apparently my point isn’t gonna be proven because you’re not a good friend, Foolish.”

Foolish: “Woah, well don’t you think that’s a lot to ask for? Hey, good friend, let’s go murder someone.”

Ponk: “Well, Foolish, look. You’re not murdering them. You are simply a tool in this revenge plot, Foolish, okay?”

Foolish: “So what would I be doing?”

Ponk: “You’ll have to press a button or swing a sword, Foolish. That is all.”

Foolish: “Press a button or swing a sword.”

- Foolish doesn’t think that sounds too hard. Ponk leads him to the barn

Ponk: “Look, Foolish. Everything will be laid out for you, okay? Everything. Alright? You’ll just have to be there. You’ll have to be there and be square, okay? You know who built this? Come this way, you know who built this?”

Foolish: “Alyssa?”

Ponk: “You know, Alyssa was a good friend of mine. She would have done this for me without asking any questions.”

- They’ve been through so much together, as Batman and Robin, as Holmes and Watson...so if Foolish wants the duo to carry on, he’ll have to help Ponk seek his revenge

- Ponk can’t swing a sword nowadays. She tells Foolish he doesn’t have to help her if she doesn’t want to, but at least he must witness it

Ponk: “We need a witness to prove to the world that this happened, okay? Someone has to write it down in history.”

Foolish: “Do you still -- another question. Do you still have plans for that one thing? On what you want to do with it?”

Ponk: “Foolish, Foolish, Foolish, you see...a good plan comes together, alright? And a good plan master never reveals his plan. It’s all about playing six-dimensional chess. I am ten seconds -- ten seconds ahead of everyone!”

- Ponk asks Foolish to take his helmet off, promising they won’t put a pumpkin on him. They ask Foolish to trust them with a TNT cannon

- They talk about building the tree

Ponk: “When the time comes, can I trust you?”

Foolish: “Mm...you think Sam deserves this?”

Ponk: “Yes. 100%.”

- Foolish says he needs time to think about it before he says yes. The two part ways and Ponk goes to cry in the forest. She’ll ask Niki next

Ponk: “Okay, Foolish...but you’re a god! You’ve killed many people, have you not? You’ve probably had human sacrifices in your lifetime!”

Foolish: “Well -- I -- uh -- I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna go now!”

- He leaves the call

- Tommy logs in and sees Puffy’s new house. He promptly tears it down

- Then he rebuilds his own house while talking to chat

- While building the roof, a spider comes over. Tommy is fond of it and names it Shroud. He asks Foolish for a nametag, then Ponk. Ponk is offended at Foolish from the Endermite incident

- Foolish brings over a nametag for Shroud and they get Shroud back to the house

- Tommy finishes the house. Ranboo logs on just to say “cum” and immediately leaves. Then Tubbo logs on and runs over

- Tommy shows Tubbo Shroud

- He decides to go plant some trees around. They head to Las Nevadas to get more and Tommy shows Tubbo how to not be rich. They discuss Mumbo Jumbo, as Tommy claims he is too British

- They return home and fix it up a bit

- Then they decide to destroy Karl’s house. They get rid of the first layer and leave a message saying they’ll get rid of the rest if Karl says he’s using it

- Tommy goes to gather more dirt. Ranboo logs on as the Pringles guy then logs off. They start arguing over Pringles cans

- Ranboo logs in as himself. Tommy and Tubbo start filling in the holes in Tommy’s basement

- They go to get more dirt

- NotDream123 logs on. Tommy and Tubbo go looking for him at Spawn, wondering who he is, but he isn’t there

- Quackity logs on and starts running around Las Nevadas. Foolish is confused

- Tommy and Tubbo bein to run back to the main area when they notice NotDream following after them

Tommy: what’s your name?

???: whats your name

Tommy: tommy?

Tommy: Big Man

???: mine is Tom

- Tommy gets mad and says that his name is Tom, and “Tom” replies that Tommy said his name is Tommy

- Tubbo wants to keep him as a trophy

- Tommy asks what Tom’s interests are. Tom asks what Tommy’s are, and Tommy says “girls,” “Britain” and “dogs”

Tom: Same

- Quackity logs off. Tom likes the Queen as well, and his catchphrase is “POG,” which Tommy is not pleased about

Tubbo: “You’ve got like a little mirror buddy!”

- Tom gets a Discord

Tommy: “He has a stache! I can’t grow a stache!”

Tubbo: “Oh, so maybe he’s the better version!”

Tommy: “No! No!”

Tubbo: “I honestly -- honestly, I can’t even tell you guys apart.”

- Foolish and Ranboo spy on them from afar. Tommy and Tubbo decide to keep Tom for themselves and build “L’Landburg” around Tom to claim him

- Tom joins their call on Discord (his username is “NotDream”). At Tommy’s request, Tubbo goes into the other room to hit Ranboo. Ranboo quits Tubbo’s game and Tubbo disconnects

- Tom knows Dream since Dream whitelisted him. They start walking back to the main area and Tommy asks questions about how Tom joined

- Tom has watched all of Tommy’s streams, even the very first where Tommy joined and got exiled to the snow biome. Tommy presses him on what the very first Hypixel game he played in the first stream was, and Tom says “Skywars,” which he claims is how they say “Bedwars” where he’s from

- Tom is apparently from “Bedskytown.” Tommy pulls Tubbo aside and Tubbo has the idea to put Tom in Tommy’s basement cell

- Tommy reminds Tubbo of the “Tomtract,” which states that Tubbo is only allowed to be friends with one Tom

- Tommy gets Tom and they start walking down the path. Tommy asks Tom if he has a girlfriend. Tom asks if Tommy has a girlfriend and Tommy says yes, so Tom says yes as well

- Tommy accuses Tom of just being Dream. Tommy asks him if he likes smoking. Tom asks if Tommy likes smoking. Tommy says yes and Tom says yes. Tommy then says he doens’t like smoking and Tom doesn’t like it either

Tommy: “What’s your favorite smell?”

Tom: “What’s your favorite smell?”

Tommy: “You first.”

Tom: “Women.”

- They get back to the house and Tommy shows Tom Shroud the spider. Tom breaks a glass block, then grabs an iron chestplate from the chest to wear. Tubbo worries about Tom getting more geared up, but Tommy insists that neither of them wear armor

- Tom puts on some diamond pants and Tommy asks Tubbo to hand him his armor to follow the rules of the Tomtract

- Tom goes into the back room and Tubbo says he’s escaping. Tom asks if he’s a hostage, then asks if Tommy likes Coke. Tommy says yes, so Tom hands him the picture of Coke

- Tommy threatens to fall out with Tubbo if he doesn’t follow the Tomtract, so Tubbo walks away. Tom whispers to Tommy to say something so Tommy shouts to come back, then walks out after into the rain to dramatically ask for the armor. Tubbo cannot argue with a statement like this, so he gives it

- Tommy puts the armor in the chest. Tubbo asks what Tom’s surname is, and Tom says “Simmons”

- Tom runs away while Tommy is explaining his school’s points system and Tubbo tries to chase after him, but Tommy says not to since they should make a good impression. Instead, the two return to filling in dirt

- Tommy turns around and abruptly comes face to face with Tom

- Tommy asks Tom some more questions about why Dream added him and what his purpose is

Tom: “What’s your purpose?”

Tubbo: “To find happiness and eternal bliss.”

Tommy: “...To get bitches.”

- Tom’s purpose is the same. Tommy scolds him because one should not call women “bitches.” Tom agrees with that as well

- Tommy brainstorms fun opinions for Tom to agree with. He likes the Sidemen and thinks they make the best vlogs. He thinks KSI is the best YouTuber and everything he does is incredible. He thinks George is really ugly (Tom pauses, then leaves the game)

- Tom comes back, Tommy repeats it, and Tom pauses for a long time before saying he agrees. Dream would never say that, and Tom is not Dream

- Tom begs for food, so Tommy eventually gives him some after leaving for some time

- Tommy says that the Manhunts are faked and Tom agrees, but he would have to ask his friend Detective Dream. Tommy and Tubbo are confused at why there are so many and ask to speak with Detective Dream

- Tubbo suspects that Dream may be able to clone himself

- Detective Dream arrives and Tubbo wants to interrogate him. Tubbo changes to his inspector outfit and Tommy changes into his suit

- Detective Dream’s first name is “Detective” and his surname is “Dream.” His parents are Mom Dream and Dad Dream. Tubbo concludes the case and decides that Det. Dream is official

- Tubbo looks Det. Dream in the eyes and gets him to say that he is a real detective. If that is true, Tubbo says, Detective would have laser eyes. Detective uses his laser eyes while looking at Tubbo’s face and Tubbo’s eyes get messed up

- Detective gets killed by Tubbo’s dog

- Detective knows about Dream and he has inside info on him that he can’t share

- “Drinnit” is Tommy’s detective name. He has been working on this case for fifty years

- After some more detective talk, Detective leaves. Tubbo tells Tommy he plans to kill Tom, as there can only be one

- NotDream comes back, this time dressed in a duck onesie. He is “John” now, and Tommy does not approve of the onesie

- Connor logs on

- John has a confession: He is actually just Tom. In fact, Detective Dream was also Tom! Tom heard Tubbo say he was going to kill him, so he created John, as he thought that Tubbo wouldn’t be able to kill something so cute. Tubbo says he didn’t mean it

- Connor asks Foolish for help getting back home

- Tom traps Tubbo and Tommy in a box. He does not have Creative mode

- Tommy asks Tom if he is good or evil. Tom says he is good and changes out of the duck onesie

- Tommy asks Tom what he thinks of destroying Karl’s house, and Tom approves as a third party. They watch Tom take down the house

- Connor arrives back home and starts building across from Tommy’s house. They VC him and Connor asks where his house went. Tommy tells him it was for tax purposes

- Tom dies by magic after Tubbo shoots him in midair

- Tommy tells Connor he can’t build on his land. Tom, Connor, Tommy and Tubbo chat about subscriber comments

- Connor starts building his house in front of Tommy’s bench and Tommy doesn’t approve of it blocking his view and destroys it

- Tom asks for food again. The server might be going through a bit of a famine

- Tommy continues filling in the basement and decides to form a Not Funny Club with Tom. They start telling jokes about YouTube

- Tommy gets the idea to do some standup: Minecraft Comedian vs. 3 Hecklers

- Tom gets hungry and takes Tommy’s God Apple to eat, but Tubbo shoots and kills him before can. Tubbo says Tom still has one canon life left though

- They walk down to the theatre stage by the Community House. Tubbo evolves

- Tommy does comedy up on the stage while Connor, Tubbo and Tom heckle from the audience. All of Tommy’s jokes are just pickup lines

- Tommy gets booed off the stage and next up is Tom, who tries but quickly gives up

- Tubbo is up next. He starts reading out information about tax legislation. Tommy starts taking notes

- Then, it’s Connor’s turn. He tries to play off of the audience

- It’s always canonically Tuesday on the Dream SMP

- Connor gives up and Tubbo goes up to keep reading the tax information. Tommy goes up to make it a comedy duo

- Tubbo starts selling his cryptocurrency known as “Piss and Shit, Screw the Children Coin”

- Tommy leaves to speak with Tom by the Community House. Tom says he’ll be back. Tom looks at the poster

Tom: “Look at this. ‘Bee does science’ ...This is groundbreaking!”

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #early one tonight ayy

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Ungodly Hour: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Suguru doesn’t know the meaning of “relief”, and neither will you.

words: 1779

tw: nsfw (light smut)

Slam!

Your head hits the desk - well, more accurately, the book on the desk - and you jolt back up, hoping no one heard your head crack against the pages. Shoko eyes you over the divider in the carrell, frowning deeply.

“Are you getting any sleep?” You don’t answer, giving her a sheepish glance before looking back down at the shapeless words. “You need to tell him to stop keeping you up so late.”

“Huh?” You look back up at the brown eyes still staring at you and roaming around your high-necked sweater, looking for any evidence to use against you.

“Suguru. Don’t be afraid to tell him to let you sleep once in a while.” Shoko chuckles, then closes her book and stands. “Anyways, we should get back to the dorms. With those two dimwits off campus right now, maybe you could get some sleep.”

You walk back to the dorms in silence, taking in the fall air with appreciation. The crisp smell of falling leaves and fresh rain settles over you like a warm embrace, and you think of the long, black haired sorcerer who resided in the back of your mind at all times. You used to think that Suguru was like the spring: fresh, and energizing. But now, he felt like the fall… comforting, warm, and familiar. The furnace for your fire. The threads for your sweater. The cup for your tea.

“Hey,” Shoko nudges you when you get to her room. “Draw that line, girl.” You laugh a little at her cheesy words, then walk the few hundred feet to your room.

Silence greets you when you open the door and walk to your bed, which is neatly made from the previous week. You never really spent time in your bed anymore; Suguru liked to sleep with you in his arms, in his room, under his sheets. You thought you would feel a deeper sense of longing when he was gone, but your body reacts only with relief as you collapse on the bed. You need to shower the day off and wash your face, but the exhaustion drags you down and soon, you’re asleep on top of the covers, arm tucked comfortably under your head.

When you wake, you realize dreams elude your memory. It had been like that for some time - this dreamless sleep. You were grateful for the lack of dreams, because it also meant the lack of nightmares. You hadn’t yet mentally recovered from the incident with the special grade curse, and neither had Suguru. One month wasn’t enough to wipe away the foul smell or the taste of blood out of your mouth, and you were sure that your hyperfixation on your studies would only drive your ability to deal with the trauma into the ground.

But you couldn’t help it.

You watched Suguru throw himself into the books when he couldn’t figure out a solution, so you did the same. When you went out with him on any given night, you two would get drunk or high (or both) and then fuck each other’s brains out. Deep down, you know it’s not the best way to cope with things, but the inherent toxicity of the cycle only draws you deeper.

The second thing you realize is that it’s impossibly dark.

A glance at the digital clock on your nightstand informs you that it’s eleven seventeen, which means you slept through dinner and possibly even Suguru’s return. You roll onto the edge of the bed to reach into your backpack to fish out your phone. There are no messages on the empty screen you note. He must not have made it back yet.

As you sit up and rub your eyes, the thought to shower comes back to you. Ignoring your grumbling stomach, you step off the bed and take two steps in the direction of the bathroom, the trip over something hard and large laying on your bedroom floor.

“Shit!”

As you precariously hold on to the edge of your desk, you hear a groan and a figure shifting up from the floor slowly. Taking two books off your desk and yelling, you toss the thick volumes at the rising figure and grab another book to throw, the previous makeshift weapons thumping to the ground after hitting their mark… at least, you think they hit their mark.

“Y/n, it’s me!” The sound of Suguru’s voice first shocks you, then enrages you. Gripping the third book in your hand, you flick on the lights and see Suguru tenderly picking up the volumes you tossed at him.

“Your dictionaries? Really?” You’re not sure if you throw the third book out of embarrassment or anger, but Suguru picks it up after it hits his chest and stacks them on your desk anyways. “Sorry for scaring you, kitten.”

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me!” You huff, running a hand through your hair out of frustration. “What were you doing sleeping on my floor?”

“You looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you. So I thought the next best place to be near you would be the floor.” Suguru grunts, rolling his shoulder. “In hindsight, I should’ve sat in the chair instead.” You squint your eyes at the sorcerer, frowning, but choose to leave the argument where it is and go into the bathroom. You leave the door open while you wash your face and brush your teeth, letting Suguru eye you over the dictionary he had picked up out of boredom. “Yeah, the mission went well,” he finally called out over the sound of running water. “Thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t,” you reply, turning the shower on and taking off your clothes.

“I would like to shower, too.” The dictionary thumps back onto the desk, but you turn to kick the door closed before Suguru can even enter. Sighing, you run a hand under the warm water then step into the shower, feeling your muscles relax. Despite your obvious rejection, the door opens, and you hear the rustling of clothing. Suguru entered into the shower behind you, his spindly fingers trapezing around your body without a care. You instinctively relax into his grip, and his lips find your neck, pressing into the wet skin tenderly.

“Su…” You whine, but he doesn’t relent. “Suguru, please…” His hard length rubs against your ass, and for once, you pray that he’ll give you just a few moments to shower before railing into you like a sex-starved man.

“You need to be taught some manners, sweetheart.” The way his lips trail past your earlobe and across the minefield of hickies makes you shudder and lean into the hand cupping your neck. “Luckily for you, I’m the perfect disciplinarian.” You jerk at the feeling of his hand running across your stomach and to your ass before lifting it. But instead of smacking your flesh, he grabs your bar of soap and rubs it between his hands in front of you.

“Sh-Shoko said I need to get more sleep.” You rush out, and Suguru pauses.

“Oh?” His soft tone doesn’t betray his true feelings, but you know he’s tabulating all of the times he’s kept you from sleeping. “Why did she say that?”

“I fell asleep in the library while I was trying to study,” You admit, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “She noticed the hickies, too.” At this, Suguru gives a derisive snort.

“Who doesn’t notice them?” You had to admit that he was right; the purplish-blue splotches are his way of marking you as his, warning the other snooping males to stay away as if you were a poisonous toad with yellow and blue coloring. As if to prove his point, he makes another one, this time running his teeth along the previous markings.

“Seriously, Su.” Your voice makes him straighten up behind you and his soapy hands rest on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I should’ve been more mindful of making sure you aren’t kept up too late.” You look over your shoulder at his face- which is serious, unflinching, and with a tinge of red around the cheeks - and he presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “Let me clean you up and get you back into bed.”

Surprisingly, Suguru kept his promise, only touching you if he needed to reach past you or help you with the tangled mess that was your hair. As you climb into bed, Suguru tucks you in and presses another kiss to your forehead before turning on the small lamp at your desk.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, then takes his familiar place at the desk, hunched over one of his books.

That next morning, the warmth of Suguru’s body envelops you comfortably, and you wonder how he climbed into bed without waking you. Feeling unusually refreshed, you slip out of his arms and press a hand to his cheek, kissing the skin in thanks. Once in the bathroom, you stretch and yawn, hearing your bones crack - early in the morning and not late at night, for once - satisfied you deeply. You turn away to reach for your facial soap, when you hear it slide open unceremoniously.

Fuck.

A very alert Suguru leans against the doorway, observing your unclothed figure with a sinister look in his eye.

“Early bird gets the worm.” And that’s how you found yourself staring at your reflection with Suguru’s hand holding your shoulder while he plowed into you from behind, his other hand rubbing circles on your clit.

“You thought I’d let you get away…” he breathes into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “If not late at night, I’ll make sure you’re satisfied before you leave for class.” You can only moan his name, looking at your wanton reflection. “You look so perfect, kitten…” he groans. “All worked up so early in the morning for me…”

“So, did you do it?” Shoko asks later, smiling widely when you nod slowly.

“If I don’t want to be late, I have to get up earlier,” you mention, feeling the slick between your thighs that reminded you of how the morning had ended with you rushing out of the door. You barely had enough time to clean yourself up, which made for an uncomfortable two hours of squeezing your thighs together so Suguru’s seed wouldn’t stain the seat beneath you. The lecture was completely lost on you, you realize with acute self-consciousness.

“Huh? Why?” Shoko eyed you carefully, then realized what you meant a second later. “So much for trying to help…” she muttered, looking away from you, embarrassed. So you walked on to class, and Shoko never suggested another thing when it came to Suguru.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen #shoko ieiri #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen getou #jujutsu kaisen imagines #geto smut

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undead-merman · 3 years

Note

Could you do yandere headcanons of harpy mammon and naga leviathan please . Thank you

This one was fun to do.

🦅Harpy Mammon🦅 and 🐍Naga Leviathan🐍 (Monster Edition) GN- Reader SFW

Mammon

Appearance

Mammon is the unquestioned King of his Murder and the only Albino Crow Harpy. He always stands out in his clan.

His feathers are a snow white unlike others of his kind. The bits of down feathers on the sides of his face, the long elegant wings, and even his tail feather don’t have a trace of color to them, they shine brightly in the morning sun, and glow ever so softly under the moon.

His legs from the knee down are avian like and tipped with golden talons. One foot is large enough to grasp a human head all the way around and strong enough to crush one easily. His hands are more human-like only with sharp talons for fingernails.

His wrists and shoulders hold some feathers as well, and a large chunk of his upper back is covered in plumage. It looks so soft and plush, but the softest feathers are the ones on his cheeks.

Avian Habits

His avian instincts are extremely strong and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing unless he’s called out, though none of the other members of his crew say anything, worried that he’ll get angry at them.

If he’s flying and notices something shiny, he’ll probably forget what he was doing immediately and dive down to inspect it. He’ll coo at it like it was a baby while cuddling it in his arms and take it back to the house to his nest and find a nice place for it.

He’s very protective of his nest and room, he gets all bristled and puffed up if someone knocks on the door. If they just suddenly come in, Mammon will screech at them.

He has a very sensitive stomach and will never admit to having one, so he’ll secretly eat small rocks to help his digestion like other birds do.

Spending time with you

At first he wanted nothing to do with you, but now he never wants you to leave his side. He doesn’t want anyone else to spend time with you, he wants to be the only thing you look at.

If someone touches you he’ll spread his wings and tail feathers out and hold you behind his back while he yells at whoever touches you. Afterward he pouts and becomes needy/broody, wanting to be touching you or if he’s mad enough just sits on you while he calms down.

Eventually he’ll have slowly moved all your stuff into his room and has made a bunch of excuses for you to stay inside his room. He wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up and go to bed. If you try to sleep in your own room he’ll whine until you open the door, or even just break in and steal you back to his room and tuck you into his nest.

He will never admit it but he loves it when you give him head pats and you brush your thumb right between his eyes. It sends such a happy shiver up his spine and all his feathers fluff up, as his tail feathers wag briefly. He’ll deny up and down that he enjoyed it that much however.

He also enjoys the thrill of carrying you around while flying. He loves to laugh at you as you hang onto him. He loves to swing you around and throw you only to catch you again. If you’re scared of heights however he’ll do baby exposure until you trust him enough not to drop you or you don’t freak out as he flies.

Whenever he sees you by surprise his feathers puff up high and his tail feathers wag a bit, as he runs towards you no matter what he was doing beforehand.

His Dark Tenancies

In his mind, you’re already mates ever since you hurt your arm and seemed so small and fragile. After the event you were constantly tailed by him. He's right at your heels even when you don’t want him to be, you’d be able to feel his eyes on you at all times.

He LOVES your smell and he loves leaving you smelling like him too. He scents you often, nuzzling his nose and cheeks on the back of your neck and wrists and anywhere else he can.

You’ll have some freedom, he’ll allow you to wonder the House of Lamentation but should you for any reason make him feel like you and his brothers are getting to close or you prove your self ‘untrustworthy’ he’ll take you to an isolated mountain nest, the location only known by him and his Murder.

You’ll have your freedom there too, but it’s really hard to call freedom. If you wander too far you’ll freeze to death and even before you perish one if his cronies will take you back. Always watching and waiting to bring you home to their master.

If anyone came to try and ruin what you two have, he’d make sure they were beaten to within an inch of their life, promising to whoever it was that he’d kill them if they ever tried again; gathering black mail and pressuring them to give in and forget everything that happened between you all.

If they continued to threaten you two, Mammon would simply let his Murder tear them to pieces and leave them to fester and rot. or if he’s feeling particularly angry that day, he’ll crush their skulls with his claws.

Misc Stuff

He likes the rain, even more he loves thunderstorms. He likes to sing in the cover of rain and he has a beautiful voice though he’s extremely self conscious of it. If he trusts you enough he’ll sing to you but he gets too embarrassed to finish the song.

His songs can influence the listeners emotions, he can make you feel giggly, angry, or scared at any point.

He hates being called a ‘bird brain’ He always gets all hissy and throws a bit of a tantrum before giving them the silent treatment.

Leviathan

Appearance

Leviathan’s body is monstrously long and extremely lithe. His tail constantly curling into perfect loops. His navy blue scales are perfectly smooth and he has black and neon yellow raindrop patches.

He has large hands, larger than most humans, his fingers have transparent navy webbing. His fingers are tipped with long black claws with navy blue coloring. His claws secrete an oil which if entered into the bloodstream could instantly kill a whale, let alone a human. In order to safely touch you with his own hands, instead of his tail, he wears special gloves that prevent the oils from seeping through.

His fangs and indigo forked tongue are long and poke out of his mouth. If bitten he has a completely different venom which causes complete paralysis for a few hours and extreme fatigue afterwards.

He has fined ears which twist and flick with his emotions, they have yellow speckles which glow in the dark or if he’s mad or upset enough.

A Water Naga’s Daily Life

He is not a mermaid. He doesn’t have a tail fin, he doesn’t sing, and he doesn’t play with cute dolphins, he’s a scary monster and he hates it.

He’s nocturnal and bright lights hurt his eyes, if a bright light is suddenly flashed at him he’ll curl into himself in a corner while nursing his burning eyes.

He uses a heating pad, since heat lamps are a nuisance, to warm his cold blooded body, he’ll also listen to the weather forecast to go out on humid nights and lounge while playing on a handheld console to pass the time.

His skin gets really dry if he’s not in water, he gets particularly cranky when dehydrated don’t let him get too dry or he’ll turn into his true water monster form and destroy everything till he can get to water.

He has adaptable lungs so he can breathe in both air and water. He often just sleeps in the bathtub full of water. He enjoys mostly being in water but will breech to play games.

Spending Time with You

He only wants alone time with you, nothing else matters besides spending time alone with you. He prefers it to be inside, but it doesn’t matter what your doing be it baking, playing video games and watching anime it doesn’t matter to him.

Since there's no sun in the Devildom he doesn’t mind taking you out so long as it’s not too crowded and you can bring water bottles with him. He loves waiting in lines for events with you sitting on his tail helping to keep him from drying out.

He loves lounging with you. Be you swimming around his immense body or using him as a flotation device. He likes being in his element with you, it makes him feel so euphoric to see you swimming around with streaks of light beaming through the water on your face while your hair floats around you like a halo, you look so innocent and warm.

He always has his tail wrapped around one of your legs, he even does it unconsciously, he has a fascination with your legs he finds the appanages cute. Sometimes he’ll even wiggle your toes if he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

His tail quivers if you gently pat his head and praise him, he always covers his head and shrinks down but he loves every second of it. He also loves it when you scratch behind his ear, he lets out a soft whine of content.

His Dark Tendencies

He does NOT like anyone seeing you at all. He wants to be the only one you pay attention to or even think about. He’ll have a nice comfortable chain for you so you can’t leave the room. He’ll want to do everything for you, feed you, dress you up as his favorite characters, clean you, he sees you like a little doll to play with and dress up.

If you make him upset he’ll bite you and force you into a paralyzed state you can’t move, you can’t talk, you can only watch and listen to what is happening around you. He punishes you by just leaving you there unable to move, unable to eat or drink, he’ll only come back when he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

He loves to play with your hair, petting it with dangerously sharp claws. He loves how soft it is and the color is just so appealing to him he can’t help but admire it. While he may be self deprecating he at least knows he is capable of keeping you in your place.

He does not like competition or anyone ruining his time with you. As soon as it becomes a problem to him, he goes into a fit destroying whoever it was who made him angry, afterwards he clings onto you like his life depended on it.

He sleeps with his tail completely wrapped around you. That way he can be close to you and you don’t have a chance of slipping away from him as he sleeps. His tail is heavy against you and just a light squeeze from him could break you.

Misc Stuff

When he sheds he complains constantly of the itching. He applies lotion and will be so grateful if you help him apply it, but after shedding his skin is very sensitive and he hides in his tank with Henry until the sensitivity calms down.

Under black light his liquids glow insanely bright, and some scales shine bright.

He has super soft hands from washing them a lot cleaning off the oils, unfortunately you’re prohibited from touching them for safety reasons.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me monster headcanons #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #yandere mammon #yandere leviathan

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

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

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

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then let’s begin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The transmission goes dead.

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

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

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dynyamight · 3 years

Note

bkdk … 12 ? ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ

12. “I think we need to talk."

The moment Bakugou opened the gym doors, and smelled rain in the air, he knew he had to book it back to the dorms.

Slamming his feet on the pavement floor, he forces himself to run out. His muscles ache all over, and his arms barely want to stay up, pumping at his side. But, he rather try and make his way to his room dry, than have a downpour soak him to his bones.

By the time he reaches to the safe, dry front steps of the dorm building, the rain finally begins. Lightly, the drops splatter slowly to the ground.

Catching his breath, Bakugou stops by the rails, holding onto one side as his muscles cramp. His thighs are burning, and his arms want to fall off entirely. But, he let's his mind focus on the pain.

He's had a rough fucking week, and for once, his mind was elsewhere.

“It’s starting to rain now, isn’t it.”

Bakugou jolts, quickly facing up to that familiar voice. That voice that haunts his dreams, ingrained deep into his mind. That voice that makes his heart race just a little quicker. That voice, from the one and only.

That forgetful nerd.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to spook you.’ Midoriya says quickly, offering an apologetic smile. He’s sitting on the front porch, holding onto a book close to his chest. “You probably thought you were the only one out here, right?”

“..You don’t have to apologize.” He breathes out. Despite the haywire of his nerves, exploding his insides, the words roll off his tongue easily. It's oddly the same phrase he's used each time they've met. "S'not like you personally screwed me over."

"Ah, my bad—"

"What did I just say."

“I—" Midoriya weakly chuckles, shaking his curls. "I guess I can't help it. I promise I won't forget.”

No matter how many times Bakugou hears that, it always sounds so genuine, so real. Rather than an empty promise. "I'll hold you to it, Deku." He mutters, regardless.

"What does that—" A light shines through Midoriya's gaze, and immediately he smiles. "Wait, you know what. I swear that's not the first time someone has said that to me. Deku."

Chills run down Bakugou’s spine. That's never happened. He's never slipped up. Fuck. “..Really?”

“Yeah, it sounds so familiar. But, I don’t remember exactly where I've heard it before.”

Both disappointment and relief flood his whole entire body. He doesn’t know what he would do if Midoriya would remember all his terrible attempts, though a part of him did yearn for recognition.

However, maybe it was for the best. Give them a fresh start, every time. Fucking hip hip hurray.

Hell, maybe this was the world's way of sending him all the karma that he has built up. It decided to pick the one person he deeply cares about, and make both of them suffer.

Bakugou looks back at the book Midoriya held, something in his mind reminding him about one of the first talks since the incident. “Is that Catch-22?” Bakugou asks, pointing it out.

It takes a moment for the question to visibly register through Midoriya's brain. But, when it does, Bakugou can tell by the way Midoriya’s eyes widen and the wide grin on his face that grows, “You've read it?”

“Nah, just heard about it. A lot.” He doesn’t need to explain himself further.

Leaving his seat off the bench, Midoriya rushes up to Bakugou’s face, eagerly leaning in. “I highly recommend it! It’s a literature masterpiece, the best of its genre!”

For a moment, Midoriya looks up to Bakugou’s gaze, eyes bright in interest. However, the next second, he looks away, with a feeble laugh as he scratches the side of his head nervously. “In my humble, personal opinion, of course..”

“What does it even mean?” Bakugou asks instead, holding tight to their conversation. He refuses to let it go for even a second. “Catch-22.”

“Oh. Uhh, the best way I can describe it,” Midoriya lifts his chin in thought. His gaze drifts up, as if he was wracking through his brain like it were a couple of shelves, “is that it's a dilemma from which someone cannot escape from, because of a set of contradictory rules.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Give an example. I’m too fucking tired to decipher whatever the fuck you just said.”

“Okay, okay!" Midoriya laughs, "It’s like job applications. How can you gain any experience for a job, unless you get a job that gives you experience?”

“Like, how in order to apply for a loan, you have to prove to the bank that you don’t need one?”

“Yes! Exactly that.”

“That shit has a name?”

“They’re hard to find, but even in everyday life, we can find ourselves in our own catch-22’s without realizing it! Isn’t that crazy? For all we know, life itself could be one!” Midoriya rambles, growing louder and louder, to the point Bakugou swears he can hear his voice echo.

Though, Bakugou doesn’t mind. This alone is possibly the most Midoriya has said to him, with all encounters combined.

Surprisingly, a blush forms over Midoriya’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to babble on like that.”

“How do you get someone to remember you,” Bakugou starts, before he can stop himself from asking, “when they keep forgetting who you are every time?”

Midoriya stares.

Quickly, Bakugou coughs, “Ain't that a catch-22?”

For a small moment, all he can hear is the rain, pattering down the pavement around them. But, then, Midoriya hums, tilting his head, lips pursed. “Yeah, it most definitely is. Though, I've never heard of that one, before.”

"Yeah well," Bakugou shoves his sweating hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s the fucking dumpster fire I’m in.”

“With all respect, does your person have medical reasons why they keep forgetting?” Midoriya asks slowly, immediate concern filling his expression.

“Not that I know of." Bakugou admits, "But, I wouldn’t put it past them. Or, they might be plain stupid.”

“That's rude!" However, the accusation sounds fairly weak, when Midoriya's chuckling.

He feels the corners of his lips upturning. "What's 'rude' is the damn bastard not remembering anything, other than random, trivial shit." Bakugou huffs. "Which changes, daily."

"And, you say nothing works? Not even telling them?"

"Yeah. 'Cause they'll fucking forget the next day."

"Have they ever wrote about you?”

Bakugou does a double take. When did Midoriya ever— “Wrote about me?”

Nodding, Midoriya gestures behind him, to the backpack beside the bench. “Personally, I've been using lots of sticky notes, planners, and journals to jot down things I need to remember.”

“Again, my memory's a bit distorted, so in order to tell my future self what I need to know, I write it out for me to read, the next day. Maybe that’ll work for your person?”

Writing. So that the next Midoriya can read it and remember. “..Would it work, if I wrote it?"

Midoriya furrows his brows. "I think it would be better if the person wrote it out for themselves. You know, so that it helps to jog their memory."

Suppressing the immediate heart drop he feels in the pit of his stomach, Bakugou exhales a big sigh. "There's a lot of shit the fucker needs to remember. His purpose. His quirk. His dream. Lots of important shit."

"Why not start with you?" Midoriya smiles, reassuringly. "They're bound to have a diary entry all about you."

Immediately, Bakugou's irked. "I ain't writing material."

"I think you are. Good writing material." Midoriya confesses, never letting that dopey, wobbly smile drop, "I don't know your name, but everything about you is unforgettable, to say the least. I bet even someone like me will recognize you next time."

But, you don't. Bakugou thinks, feeling the tug at his heart tighten, choking him from the inside. You never do.

From the pocket of his gym shorts, Bakugou starts feeling his phone vibrate, before it rings. Despite that, Midoriya's jump causes him to be just as startled.

Rubbing a hand to his neck, Midoriya weakly chuckles, "Sad. We were just starting to get to know each other."

Bakugou doesn't respond.

'ALL MIGHT.' The caller ID states in bold letters.

"I gotta go." Bakugou states firmly, holding tightly around his phone. "I need to take this call."

Midoriya's smile fades, but quickly it's picked up. "Yeah, no worries. I've probably been keeping you outside for too long."

Bakugou curtly nods, "You have."

And yet, even when the ringing persists, loudly telling him to walk away, leave, he stays. Because, Midoriya just looks like he doesn't want him to go.

He doesn't want to go, either.

"I never got your name." Midoriya mentions quietly.

Why would I give it, if you won't even remember?

Yet, that freckled, doey eyed face Midoriya's got never brings out the rationale, spiteful side of him out. Because, no matter how many times he has to say it, he'll do it again, and again. In a heartbeat.

"Just call me Kacchan."

Visibly, Midoriya's taken aback. Though, with the phone call on its last few rings, he finally steps off to the side, giving Bakugou space to walk.

"I'll see you around then," Midoriya waves off to him, "Kacchan."

A personal hell. Bakugou's living his personal hell.

When he walks inside the dorm building, the emotions suddenly hit him hard. Every day, he has to keep putting up with this crap.

Midoriya greeting him, talking to him, and saying goodbye, like a damn fucking stranger.

It kills him, eating away at his brain, knowing Midoriya's unable to look at him, and see nothing, but a stranger staring back.

When looking at Midoriya meant the world to him.

With a swift thumb swipe, Bakugou slides the phone call open. He clears his throat. "What now old man."

"I think we need to talk." All Might's voice crackles. "Privately. The sooner, the better. It's about the quirk that's been affecting young Midoriya."

His entire body tenses, halting him still. "..What about it.."

All Might sighs, long and tired. "The authorities found some intel about the culprit behind the memory loss. And, well.."

"Well, what?" Bakugou snaps.

"Midoriya's in deeper trouble, than we thought."

#star responds #as this is the last drabble!! it shall be the longest!!#ahh.. to be honest i struggled with this prompt #it sounds like a breakup & i selfishly did NOT want to write it #buuut then i remembered an au i had in mind ! & decided to revisit it for this prompt #its basically memory loss au !! deku has been hit !! with a quirk!!#& bakugou. who just came to terms with his feelings. is struggling #anyways !! thank you bestie for this prompt !!#ckatsudon #bakudeku #my beloved #FICLET

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ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Untamed Dog

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: non-con, major spoilers, predator/prey, biting, manipulation, gaslighting, breeding, blood and violence

AO3 Link

A gift to my friend and one of my favorite artists, @workofann

When King Fritz failed to retrieve his people to the island after the Great Titan War, all of the Eldians became slaves to Marley.

All of the nine titans were under the Marleyan army’s control, warriors who inherited one of the seven titans would receive the Marleyan title and a red armband along with the promise of a better life for their family even after their inevitable death.

The Wilbur family kept the Warhammer Titan and the Founding Titan was being fed to an ordinary Eldian family to keep it safe. Or rather keep Eldians in place, taking their hope of freedom away.

The remaining of the seven titans were hung down on a rope around a stick to trick Eldians into having power. Marley made Eldians believe that inheriting one of these titans could bring comfort to their life.

As long as someone inherited one of the titans, their entire family would live in comfort instead of poverty.

That silly promise worked. Since the many Eldians were living in poverty, they were willing to do anything to have a better life. Even if it meant to send their kids to death.

Eldian warriors started training from the moment they hit puberty and up until the moment they became adults. Only then, they were able to inherit the titans they were attained to.

In the hopes of living a better life, you were one of the many kids who had joined the warrior training program when you were little. You grew up in the army and experienced the destructive war from an early age.

You were lucky enough to be taken to the warrior candidate program later on. Which pretty much ensured your death but the impending truth that you were going to die for this country was honoring in a way. It was the least you could do, dying in the name of Marley was something you owed to them after everything devils like you made them go through.

In the end, it was all decided from the moment you were born with an armband to your left. Like many, you were carrying the blood of the titans, the curse of Ymir. To be freed from the shackles of the ‘devil’ title, you had to prove your loyalty to Marley. Dedicate your heart to your country.

You did.

So did your comrades.

However, only six of you could inherit one of the seven titans the Marleyan army used.

~~~

“My gear is totally dead,” you sighed, standing on top of the wall surrounding the enemy’s town that your comrades had destroyed, trying to take your eyes away from the mass of bodies scattered along almost every single inch of space, “I have no gas left.”

“Rookie mistake,” Jean snickered, trying to regain some humanity he had left. “We’ll go get some for you as soon as the others are done with the serum.”

It became silent.

“Is dinner or breakfast the most important meal of a day?” Connie asked to break the uncomfortable silence between his friends.

“Both,” Sasha answered without hesitation.

“No, you should only choose one and it’s obviously breakfast, moron,” Jean sighed audibly, looking down from the wall.

The rest of the people looked tenser than ever yet you still managed to offer the trio a smile before giving your answer, “I’d say it’s dinner. It’s where you and your family or friends are home, safe and sound. Dinner is like a blessing, in my opinion, don’t you think so, Jean?”

Jean met your gaze and blushed bright red before averting his eyes to look around himself rather than the bloodbath covering them everywhere.

“He hates his mom so he wouldn’t know,” Sasha spoke without thinking.

“Sasha!” Connie warned, trying to tell the airhead girl that it was a rude thing to say.

“We all eat dinner together,” you pointed out, “Breakfast is hard to eat together when each one of us has different chores but we all eat dinner together. We are family even without blood.”

“You’re right,” Connie gasped softly. “I never thought of it that way. I mean this about eating dinner together, of course. The family part is kinda weird though, you know since some of us will die no matter what.”

A cold breeze brushed their skin. Sasha anxiously started biting the inside of her cheeks.

“That’s why I think dinner is important.” You walked over to Jean and grabbed his bicep to pull him closer to the group. “At night, when we’re in the dining room altogether, eating and enjoying a meal together means that we’ve all made it through a day. We’re safe and alive, together.”

“I get it!” Jean pulled his arm free, “All this positivity won’t get you anywhere unless you stay on the lookout. We’re in the middle of a battlefield here.”

Only then the four of you came back to your senses. Connie had remembered why he had broken the silence. It was because his legs wouldn’t stop shaking or his jaw wouldn’t stop clenching. He shivered with the thought of what was going to happen soon.

Sasha remained silent yet anyone could tell how anxious she was with a single look in her direction.

Jean acted tough. He was worried but he knew better than to show weakness. He held his composure and even looked a little intimidating.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to feel or how to act. You weren’t sure why they were so worried. Even though you all had one more year left of your training, emergencies like this happened quite often. The Colossal Titan’s holder was about to die, so, of course, the Marleyan commander would order your commander to feed him to one of the only two candidates.

It was either going to be Armin or Bertholdt. One of them was going to become the Colossal Titan and the other one was going down a rank in the military to become a special force soldier.

It was that easy.

The weaker link had to leave. It was the rule of nature.

“You guys!”

You whipped her head around to see Reiner gliding through the air with his ODM gear to reach the top of the tall wall. He landed right beside you, looking rough and sweaty.

“Armin,” he breathed, “They gave the serum to him.”

Connie, Sasha, and Jean gaped but you were inanimate.

“He’ll be the colossal titan?”

“Yes, they’re going to kill us. It’s Eren and Mikasa’s fault, we’re screwed. Commander Erwin should have given the serum to Bertholdt!” Reiner gritted his teeth in anger. “Armin won’t be able to lead us anywhere-”

“Hey!” Jean pointed a finger at Reiner, “He’s the reason why most of us are alive. It was always him who saved us with his smart planning, alright?”

You nodded along while Sasha jumped down the wall to get to the other side of the opening so she could see what was happening. Connie followed after her right away.

“Bertholdt deserves the Marleyan title more than Armin,” Reiner confronted Jean.

The two of them were the only candidates for the Armored Titan, the way they were reacting and arguing was normal. In the future, it was going to be the same for them. Only one of them could inherit the Armored Titan. This argument was nothing but a desperate attempt to prove which one of them was worthy of a titan and ignore the impending truth.

It wasn’t how strong the soldier or how smart the soldier was. Marley didn’t choose its soldiers like that. They chose those who they could brainwash easily. The army wanted desperate young adults who were ready to dedicate their lives to a country that owed nothing to them.

It was nothing but pure manipulation. Destroying the lives of hundreds if not thousands of young people, just so seven of them could inherit these titans.

As the two of them were arguing, you walked to the edge of the wall, staring at the bloodbath of your enemies and titans, that would disappear in a couple of hours.

War Chief Zeke had gone a little berserk today with his titan but it was only normal. Everything had gone according to the plan, the rain of the titans was able to destroy most of the city while the Colossal Titan broke down the outer walls. Yet, nobody could foresee the enemy having the infamous titan spears. The Colossal Titan’s holder was hit by many of them, leaving him fatally injured. It was unfortunate that the last minutes of his life was here on the battlefield but it was one of the most fortunate things for the candidates who had enough time to be able to eat him.

Who deserved to be the Colossal Titan?

In your opinion, it should have been none of them.

Armin was smart, just like Bertholdt. however, they were both weak and childish.

You could guess that Armin was chosen only because Bertholdt still had some of his humanity left in him. Everyone knew he cried himself to sleep.

If you didn’t want to murder an entire country without remorse just so you could be blessed with that red armband, then you lost your chance.

Bertholdt should have known that.

Reiner probably knew that though but refused to believe the truth that was right in front of him. He was mentally unstable, making him the perfect new Armored Titan. Easy to manipulate, dumb enough to risk his entire being for the sake of Marley.

You took a deep breath to calm your senses and to block out the angry arguing happening behind you. There was a soft rumbling sound as you breathed out. At first, you thought it was your stomach thanks to the previous conversation with your friends about food but it was something louder.

Only then you realized that it was the faint screams of your enemies you had heard today, the memories of the loud squelching noises that happened when their flesh was being eaten by titans. It was all playing over and over and over again in your head.

Holding your hands up to cover your ears, you tried to block out the noises. Praying that they would stop but you were old enough to know prayers wouldn’t solve anything.

“(name),” Jean spoke through his teeth, he was still furious at Reiner. “Come on, let’s get you a new gas tank.”

You let your hands fall to your sides and walked towards him after turning around on your heels. The two idiots were having a staredown but as soon as you walked to the other edge of the wall, Jean wrapped an arm around you and jumped down. You held onto him briefly as he aimed his grappling hook towards a building on the verge of collapsing, at that moment he said something he shouldn’t have.

“People who obsess over the Marleyan title like that won’t get anywhere in life.”

You nodded in response, the title meant so little but the power of a titan… It meant everything.

As soon as you changed your gas tanks, it was time to go.

The enemy had already surrendered and there was nothing else you could do here.

“You brats.”

Turning your head, you looked at your captain. Both you and Jean saluted Levi as he walked towards you with an angry look on his face. Here it was coming, he was going to scold you for hiding to avoid the clean-up after the battle.

“Where were you?” he demanded an answer more than he asked.

“Uhh, we were with… Sasha and Connie. We were just… um… waiting for Commander Erwin to be done with the serum and-”

“I’m not talking about that,” Levi cut off Jean’s rambling. “Where were you during the battle?”

“We fought with our assigned squad, sir. Squad Leader Hanji gave us the orders to kill enemies on top of the walls with the titan spears.” You spoke clearly, still saluting, unlike Jean.

“That glasses saved our ass again…” Levi muttered under his breath. He then told you to stand easy.

Relaxing your posture, you looked at Captain Levi in the eye. “Squad Leader Hanji said they noticed the enemy on top of the walls at the last minute. Although our response was quick, we still couldn’t make it in time to protect our precious warrior, sir. Shall we go to sleep without dinner tonight again?”

Jean’s eyes widened at your words in panic.

“No need,” Levi sighed, eyes softening at your words. Even after so many years together, you were still oddly respectful and obedient when it came to your commanders. “You brats did good, nobody from our squad died. That’s why you deserve a break.” He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Tell the others in the squad to gather at the entrance. We’re going to have cars coming in to get us to the harbor.”

“What about Eren?” you asked, knowing that he was most definitely with his friend right now.

“He’s my responsibility, you two should worry about getting everyone in the cars within an hour. If we don’t leave in time, we’ll have to take that shitty train.” Levi dismissed the two of you with a wave of his hand. “See you on the ship.”

“Yessir!”

“Yeah, sir!”

As soon as your commander walked away, Jean pointed a finger at your face threateningly. “You better stop that! Playing that obedient soldier thing is soooo dumb! You were gonna make us all sleep hungry again!”

“Well, I have to show them that I respect my country and army. When you show them respect, you get extra points. They think I’m a better candidate for the titan than that guy.” You were grinning from ear to ear. “That’s how you win, Jean.”

~~~

You were able to gather everyone at the entrance within an hour. The car ride took barely an hour but felt like hours thanks to your sore body.

In front of the ship, Squad Leader and War Chief stood next to each other as they were telling you and Annie about which rooms of the ship belonged to your squads.

“Make sure to get some rest.” Zeke took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. “It’ll be a long trip until we make it home.”

“The monkey’s right! Get extra rest and eat lots! We asked Niccolo to make some warm food so better hurry up before it gets cold!!” Hanji crossed their arms over their chest with a large smile after giving you both the information papers about the ship and the schedule. “Good job on today’s battle!”

“Don’t praise them too much,” Magath said, appearing behind you. “We almost lost the Colossal Titan today.”

“Come ooooon, Magath, cut the young adults some slack! The Colossal Titan is in the right hands now. If you’re worried about Armin not being ready for the next battle, don’t worry!!! He will go under my titan training once we get back to Marley.” Hanji walked towards the General and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll sort it out!”

“Don’t touch me, devil.” Magath pushed their hand away.

While the two of them were about to argue, Zeke gestured with his head for you and Annie to walk away before you got caught up in it.

“You weren’t there for the cleanup mission,” Annie noted right away. “I had to carry all the corpses because Reiner was freaking out about Bertholdt.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t have an excuse so I promise I’ll help you next time.”

She waved her hand towards her squad. “I bet you will.”

You noticed her smiling and scoffed while you gestured your own squad to come towards you. “I keep my word.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. You better learn to keep your squad in control, your idiots are more manageable than Reiner. You’re lucky to have those candidates with you.”

“You’re right. My idiots are easier to handle but that doesn’t mean they will inherit the titans. We’re a shitshow, your idiots have the courage, mine don’t.”

“We’re right here, (name),” Connie deadpanned and walked past you towards the ship after grabbing the paper you handed out to him.

“We have to train hard if we wanna be anything like these monsters,” you yelled after him but he was shaking his head, refusing to listen.

“Monsters?” Pieck raised a brow as she took a paper from Annie. “Is that what you think of your comrades, (name)?”

“No,” you said. “We spent all those years training altogether yet nobody from my squad can be compared to any of your strength.”

Pieck nodded languidly but Porco put a hand on her shoulder to push her forward. “Keep moving, we have to get food before that pig.” He gestured towards Sasha who stood at the end of the line with a worried look on her face, waiting impatiently for her turn to get on the ship.

“I’ll keep her busy, you guys should head inside.” You were smiling at them.

Pieck chuckled before leaving. “You’re too considerate for a warrior.”

“Uhh, where’s Armin and Eren?” Jean asked while taking the paper from you. He checked the planning and the schedule briefly.

“I don’t know, Captain Levi told me he would bring them here later,” you answered.

“Keep it moving, horse face,” Ymir shoved Jean away to grab one of the papers before walking away. “Good luck with the potato girl, (name).”

You looked at Annie who was already done handing out papers and was walking inside with her squad. Reiner was walking beside her, head down and shoulders slouched. He was still upset over Bertholdt losing against Armin.

“Um… Can we go inside now?” Sasha asked after ten minutes of standing outside.

“No, we’re waiting for uhh…. Armin.”

She sighed audibly and clutched on your arm. “You were right, dinner is the most important meal of the day… I’m so hungry, (name). Let’s go eat. Armin will find his way to the ship nonetheless if we wait for him… Please…”

Okay. Perhaps you could let her go now. Others must have gotten their food and all.

“You’re right, let’s-”

Sasha left your side and ran inside the ship without letting you finish your sentence. Sometimes, you wished you could be as honest as her. Life would be so much easier.

“(name).”

You stood at attention, keeping your head up.

“Commander Erwin!”

“At ease.” He looked around before speaking. “Is everyone from your squad inside?”

“No sir. Armin isn’t here. Eren from Annie’s squad isn’t here either.”

“Hmm, Levi will be bringing them here. We’re waiting for their car to arrive with the special force soldiers.” He put a hand on your shoulder and spun you around to pat on your back, pushing you forward. “Now, go inside and get some rest.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the dining compartment, Sasha was eating next to Niccolo who was still serving food. You walked over to the duo and the chef gave you a tray of food. “Good work today.”

“Thanks,” you replied and joined the rest of your squad on a table.

“I’m telling you, when I become the Cart Titan, I will have all of the ladies coming after me!” Connie smirked, “Everyone wants to get married to a Marleyan Warrior so they can live an easy life.”

“So you accept that no woman would tolerate you unless you have a red armband?” Ymir laughed. “Oh man… you are pathetic.”

The color drained from Connie’s face and he sat in silence.

“Besides,” Ymir said as you were taking the seat next to hers, “You’ll lose the Cart Titan against Pieck. That woman is unmatchable.”

You nodded to agree.

“Hey,” Jean hissed, slamming his cutlery on the table. “We’re all candidates. There’s no way of knowing who will get chosen and who will not be-”

“We’re the Paradis Squad, Jean,” Ymir groaned. “We’re the castaways, the second options, or better yet, we’re the backup plan for the Marleyan military.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed her.

“What? It’s the truth and nobody will hear us with the rumbling coming from the engine of the ship. We all know Armin got chosen to inherit the titan only because Bertholdt was a crybaby.” She took a bite from her bread and chewed slowly to speak at the same time. “That’s why you have to work harder than that Monkey Squad to be able to inherit whatever titan you're a candidate for.”

She was right but you needed her to shut up. The rest of the idiots hadn’t caught up with how unfair this candidate game was. Not yet.

“So you don’t wanna inherit the Jaw Titan?” Jean asked the most stupid question he could have.

“Why would I be in the military and become a candidate if I didn’t want to inherit the Jaw Titan?” Ymir was smirking widely, taunting the guys who saw as weak.

“But you keep saying we have no chance against those elite guys,” Connie whined.

“Oh, I will inherit the Jaw Titan. That Porco guy cannot even fight properly.” She had a dangerous glint in her eye as she glowered at Porco. He was omitting to her stare whilst eating next to Pieck.

“This isn’t a fair competition,” you added, tightly gripping your fork to stop the shaking of your hands. “You have to give it your best to win or it’ll all be for nothing. You’ll end up in the special forces and remain a devil in the eyes of Marleyans forever.”

“Dontcha worry, (name),” Ymir chirped, changing her tone effectively as she put her arm over your shoulder to pull you close. “You’ll inherit your titan. You’re the only one between these idiots who deserves to be a titan warrior.”

“Are you dumb?” Connie raised a brow. “(name) will never inherit a titan as long as War Chief is the Beast Titan.”

“He doesn’t get to decide who’ll inherit the titans. It’s Magath and the other Marleyans.” Jean spoke, his voice was blank, devoid of any emotion. “I thought our commanders decided which one of us it’d be when the time came but… apparently it’s the Marleyans who choose everything regarding if we’re inhumane enough.”

“Ah.” You could see it in his face. He was putting the pieces together slowly. After almost seven years in the military, he was finally grasping the bitter reality and the harsh truth of the future. “You realized that Armin wasn’t actually chosen for his talents, huh?” There was silence before you spoke again. “If you want to inherit a titan, you need to rid yourself of your humanity.”

Jean nodded knowingly and took a sip from his water with shaky hands.

It was half an hour later when the ship finally moved forward. It could only mean one thing… They were here.

Everyone except Ymir got up from their seats in the dining compartment. Seconds later the famous trio and Bertholdt walked inside.

“Armin!” Jean walked up to his comrade and hugged him while the other squad was welcoming their friend. “You’re too lucky!”

“Yeah, man! He’s gonna be treated like a celebrity now,” Connie was smirking as everyone from your squad started crowing around the blonde.

Armin blushed faintly, “I’m still me.”

“How does it feel?” you asked, curious if his body was going through any changes.

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Hey, where’s your red armband, huh?” Connie pointed at Armin’s yellow armband.

“He’s gonna get it when we get back home,” Eren replied instead and pushed his friend forward. “Now move away, we are starving.”

“Eren,” Mikasa warned, her eyebrows furrowing. “Everyone is excited, he’s the first one between you all to inherit a titan.”

Eren ignored her and walked towards the table Niccolo was serving food with Armin.

“He’s probably jealous. He just won’t admit it,” you reassured and patted on Mikasa’s back. “We’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

She nodded slowly and met your gaze. “Thanks.” After that, she reluctantly had to leave to join the special force soldiers in their own department.

Bertholdt was here for the last time, saying goodbye to his comrades. Soon, he would join Mikasa in the special force and if you were not careful you would too.

One year. Only one year left of your seven-year candidate program. Only one year until you inherited a titan or lost everything.

Anything could happen and things could go south. Just as today or when War Chief inherited his titan a couple of years ago.

Connie put a hand on your back and led you back to the table. You sat in between Ymir and Eren. The other three guys sat on the opposite side. Sasha was still busy devouring the food her supposedly lover had made for her.

“Shouldn’t you sit with your own squad?” you said jokingly.

“It’s none of your business.” Eren started eating, ignoring Jean who started scolding him for talking rudely.

Well, you knew he was upset that Armin inherited a titan before himself. The fact that his friend was stronger than him now hurt his ego and superiority complex.

“You should at least try to get along with people,” you said softly. “After this year, we won’t be forced to hang out together anymore.”

“I am here to kill all of my enemies, not make friends.” Eren had never changed from the day he joined the candidate program. He was always hot-headed and full of an ego that couldn’t be humbled. In these seven years, he hadn’t once actually tried working together with anyone. He acted like he was better than anyone else. “It’s because of your stupid airhead that the Colossal Titan’s inheritor got injured. If only you paid more attention to the war, Armin wouldn’t have lost a year of his training.”

“Hey!” Jean raised his voice, “It was nobody's fault. Don’t go accusing people for no reason.”

His attitude was finally getting to you, making you drop your facade for the first time in years. “Actually, the Colossal’s holder got injured because of you. It was all your fault. If you hadn’t gone into a rampage like you always do, we would have noticed that the enemy had titan spears on top of their walls.”

Your comrades all stopped eating, Ymir was giving you a look for you to shut up and Connie was kicking you under the table. “You really went and said it,” Jean groaned.

Eren continued eating despite how badly his hands were trembling from anger.

“(name), let’s not start a fight,” Armin whispered but his advice went unheard.

“You know you don’t belong in the military,” Eren suddenly laughed. “Everyone thinks that you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” you firmly answered. “This is the only place I belong.”

“You don’t belong in the military,” Eren insisted. “Don’t lie to your comrades.”

“Oh, now we’re comrades?” You glared at him and put your hand over your heart. “I pledged loyalty to serve Marley.”

“We all did.” Eren waved his hand dismissively. “There’s nothing special about you. I am here to kill all of my enemies, you’re here so you can live rich. That’s why I will inherit the Attack Titan and you won’t.”

For a single moment, your face showed pure panic at what he had just said.

“You really think that way?” Ymir forcefully scoffed, “What now? We’re all useless-?”

“You are. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be in this squad. You’re all nothing but a second choice.” Eren lifted his gaze up to Armin. “He is the smartest of them all, the Colossal Titan never needed a fighter. It needed a brain.”

Ymir’s smirk dropped and she let out a low sigh of discomfort. Jean and Connie were glowering at Eren while you were humbled by him once again.

You tend to forget how you actually were nothing. Titans needed a fighter, Marley needed a fighter. The Attack Titan needed a fighter.

You were only smart, you couldn’t fight as well as Eren and you weren’t a natural-born leader like him.

Against him, you had no chance of winning. This wasn’t about who was the smartest, the most powerful, or the most inhumane. Each titan needed something specific. The Colossal needed a brain, the Female needed strength, the Armored needed wrath, the Jaw needed speed, the Cart needed stamina and the Attack Titan needed… a leader.

Are you a leader?

“I will inherit the Attack Titan.” Your voice quivered but you stood tall and proud.

“You have no chance of winning against me.” He was confident, rightfully so.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that you were in this situation, it wasn’t fair that Eren Yeager was going to destroy your life. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who got hurt all the time.

“You don’t belong in the military and you don’t belong here with us.” Eren put down his cutlery, nobody else dared to speak.

You were getting angrier and starting to tremble in rage. “I’m sorry but I’m not willing to run away from my responsibilities like you.” Your brows furrowed and your teeth were clenched as you practically yelled, “I will inherit the Attack Titan no matter what.”

Eren scoffed as he was looking at your eyes that were burning with rage, “Good luck, then.”

~~~

You were going to kill him.

“Don’t think much about it,” Ymir said.

“Y-yeah, he’s saying all that because he thinks he’s the strongest.” Sasha was trying her best to come up with words that would sound comforting but it was hard. She wasn’t present during your argument.

“He’s confident because his brother is the Beast Titan,” you hissed. “Zeke got lucky. If Mr. Ksaver hadn’t had a heart attack, he wouldn’t be here. If only the other candidate wasn’t away… Then he wouldn’t be the Beast Titan.”

“Hey,” Ymir warned. “Don’t say things that can get you in trouble.”

“Says the girl who bad mouths everyone.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“A-anyway!” Sasha pulled the sheets over her head, “Let’s just sleep! You’ll forget about this tomorrow.”

“I agree with the piggy for once.” Ymir reached towards the candle and blew it out. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight,” Sasha murmured happily.

You were silent.

There had to be a way to get Eren out of the picture.

~~~

You couldn’t sleep, even though both Ymir and Sasha had already passed out. Today was exhausting for everyone yet every time you closed your eyes, you were seeing Eren getting the Attack Titan.

Kicking off your sheets, you jumped out of your bed to take a walk and calm yourself.

As soon as you left the room, you started wandering in the ship without a destination in mind. Without realizing it, you kept walking to the deeper, darker parts of the ship where there wasn’t a single light on. However, thanks to you being discalced, you could feel it when the floor under your feet changed height or direction. It helped you get around the tight hallways but you still had no idea of your whereabouts nonetheless.

Maybe it was a bad idea to be wandering around.

That was until you heard a sound that shook you internally. Your head whipped to the right, a large metal door was inviting you.

You could hear the familiar voices of people and hushed yelling from the other side of the door. Out of curiosity, you pressed your ear onto the door to listen.

“- stop causing trouble before they kick you out. If you don’t get the Attack Titan all of our parents’ efforts will all be for nothing.”

“You say that as if I won’t inherit the titan.”

That was… Those were the Yeager brothers.

“That girl, she’s obedient. She will get the upper hand if you don’t get your act straight, Eren.”

“It doesn’t matter if she gets the Attack Titan, you can give me your spinal fluid and I’ll eat her.”

“Eren!” A slam. You flinched, covering your mouth to keep quiet. Zeke had slammed his fist on a table or a wall. “Enough innocent Eldians died. You have to prove yourself worthy and earn the Attack Titan. Hanji and Erwin found who Marley was feeding the Founding Titan to. It’s some poor family by the outskirts of the city. We finally have all of the information we need. All you have to do is follow the plan.”

“The plan is that I inherit the Attack Titan, it doesn’t matter how I do it.”

Your heart was pounding, a cold sweat slicking your skin as you continued listening to them in terror. Did they want to betray Marley?

They were…

They were traitors.

“The plan is that you inherit the Attack Titan and become the symbol of hope for our people. If it weren’t for Levi or Mikasa, you wouldn’t be alive today. You need to prove to our people that you’re worthy of leading them to a better future. You must be convincing because nobody will riot against Marley if some bastard with anger issues eats the Founding Titan.” Zeke’s voice sounded conflicted. “Once you become the beacon of hope, you have to bring us peace. No more wars, Eren. We had enough wars.”

Eren spoke again after a long pause. “Do you think we should let them live after all they’ve done, Zeke?”

“Eren, we aren’t showing mercy to Marley. We are only ending the wars for our sake. Eldians have fought enough.”

Your eyes widened and a sickening smile spread across your face. This… This was your chance. You were going to become the Attack Titan. All you had to do was find a Marleyan, Magath… Anyone!

Taking a step back, you took a quick look around you before starting to walk further down the hall. As long as you revealed the truth about the Yeager brothers, you would inherit the Attack Titan. They were going to be banished and hopefully, executed. You were speeding down the hallway, keeping your hand on the wall to use it as a guide.

You couldn’t believe it, they were planning to betray Marley and eat the Founding Titan. Why would they even do that? You didn’t know and didn’t need to know. All you knew was that now, you were guaranteed to inherit the Attack Titan.

No matter how long you walked, you never came to the end of the hallway.

What if Commander Erwin, Captain Levi, and the Squad Leader Hanji were in it too?

What about Mikasa and Armin? Were they in this too?

If you snitched on the Yeager brothers would they kill all of your other comrades?

They wouldn't, right?

Honestly, they were all better off dead.

You walked for a few more minutes until you had worked up the nerve to make a run for it. Your palm was clammy as you kept sliding your left hand on the wall and, without looking back, you darted down the hallway praying to whoever was listening that it wasn’t a dead end and would lead you to Magath’s office.

You got lucky and came across the dining compartment. At least you were getting somewhere, you only had to keep running. For a while, you followed the wall around without stopping but when you saw a silhouette ahead of the hallway, you skidded to a stop.

In the dark, you couldn’t make out who it was but you continued walking, hoping that it was a Marleyan or anyone you could tell about the Yeager brothers and their plan of attacking Marley.

There stood a glorious Marleyan soldier, Yelena.

You were going to win.

A wild grin spread across your face and you took a step forward at the same time Yelena became aware of your presence.

“Good evening,” she said, you could hear the smile in her voice. “Mr. Yeager.”

Your own grin dropped and you felt a large hand landing on your shoulder, gripping you tightly.

“Yelena, I told you to keep on the lookout.” Zeke’s voice was calm despite being caught. “This one eavesdropped on me and my brother as it seems.”

Yelena did something you had never seen a Marleyan soldier do to an Eldian before and she saluted Zeke. “My condolences, sir. Shall I kill her?”

“What?” It was you, voice breaking and heart hammering in your ribcage. What kind of conspiracy was going on here? “Miss Yelena, we have to tell Magath about this-”

“No, it’ll bring too much attention to us. I’ll handle it,” Zeke ignored your words and replied Yelena instead.

The woman nodded and stood at ease. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Keep an eye on the hallways. I don’t need any more of these miscalculations.” Zeke’s hand moved to the back of your neck, he grabbed you tightly and turned around to walk away with you.

Your hands went to pry his hands off of you but it was futile, despite his looks, Zeke was stronger than you. As he was forcing you to walk the way you ran from, you spoke through your teeth. “I will kill you. I’m going to scream now and everyone will know that you-”

“We’re on a ship, (name). If I transformed right now, everyone would be dead. Everyone.” He was speaking calmly again but his grip around the back of your neck tightened, making you whimper in pain. “Do you want to risk it? I don’t think you would survive. Neither would anyone else other than Armin Arlert. If he managed to turn into the Colossal Titan before the ship sinks, that is.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you hissed, biting back a sob.

“You don’t know where you stand just like Eren,” he sighed in irritation this time.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to betray Marley? Don’t you feel guilty of the things we devils have done to them?” You were spitting out your words, an animalistic snarl rose up from your stomach. “You traitors!”

“The war must end,” Zeke said. “What we’ve done to Marley in the past was unforgivable but the way we’re being used as weapons against other countries… We will always continue to repeat history if we don’t end the war. And-”

“I will inherit the Attack Titan and stop you all.” Your limbs started to shake violently, you tried twisting your body to escape his hold but it was all futile.

“Didn’t you hear my brother? I can turn him into a pure titan and feed you to him.” Zeke leaned in to whisper, his voice carried a dark promise. He was serious.

You didn’t dare to utter a single syllable more. Your bottom lip was trembling as the realization of how bad your situation actually was started to settle in.

What you had thought to be your advantage against Eren was going to get you killed. You had no idea how many people were involved in this. Yelena had saluted Zeke as if he wasn’t a devil. A Marleyan bowed down before an Eldian.

How dare she betray Marley like that? Eldians did nothing but cause wars, you were all the devils who killed. You were a curse, a waste of space and air. To earn your place in this cruel world, you had to dedicate yourself to Marley. And-

Oh, how amusing to think like a loyal dog.

A giggle escaped from your lips.

Zeke raised a brow but continued forcing you down the hallway until the two of you reached a door. He pushed the door open and shoved you inside before walking after you.

“This is your first chance to prove yourself to me,” Zeke spoke. You immediately knew he wasn’t talking to you.

Stumbling forward, you fell on the ground. You used your hands to push yourself up as the door closed, seconds later you heard it being locked.

“Devoted as usual, (name).” Eren crouched in front of you and grabbed you by your hair to pull your head back. “Do you think Marley would care if you died? I think they’d replace you with one of the many other soldiers.”

“Eren,” Zeke sighed. “Are you listening to me?”

The younger brother hummed lowly in response but proceeded to glare at the terrified expression on your face.

“She’s been brainwashed from birth by Marleyan propaganda. Every Eldian in Marley is like her. Their thoughts and motives are all the same.” Zeke took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief he took out from his pocket. “I want you to teach her the truth and prove yourself to be a true leader.”

“Why should I? Is it so we can keep her alive?” Eren scoffed, lips curling up into a smile. “I wouldn’t mind killing her now, throw her off deck and tell everyone else she jumped herself-”

“Eren.” Zeke was tired, so tired of all the killings. So tired of the wars and deaths. He wanted peace. He wasn’t made for fighting, Mr. Ksaver knew that but still gave him the Beast Titan. Mr. Ksaver believed that Zeke could lead the Eldians to peace. To a life without any wars or deaths. Zeke knew he could lead his people to freedom but he couldn’t fight. He wasn’t powerful enough to eat the Founding Titan himself. That was the only reason he needed Eren for.

Why father?

Why did you fail at parenting your sons?

Grisha raised Zeke with hatred for Marley and tried embedding that fighting spirit he wanted so much into the little Zeke but failed. Immediately after his mother, Dina’s death, Grisha married another woman and had Eren. Only then Grisha came back to his senses and raised his younger son with love.

Yet, Eren turned out the exact way he desperately wished Zeke would be like when he was raising him.

Ironic if not poetic.

He sent both of his sons to the candidate program and here they were; Zeke trying his best to speak some sense into Eren while all his little brother talked about was killing everyone.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Wasn’t he tired of it all?

He returned to the present, barely a second had passed.

“If you can’t convince one Eldian woman to join our cause then you’re not befitted to inherit the Attack Titan. I can always find another candidate who will take orders.” Zeke’s tone was colder than ice. He put his glasses back on and glowered down at his younger brother.

Eren’s sinister smile faltered and he frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t you understand?” Zeke clapped his hands together, raising his voice. “How can I give you the power to lead all of the Eldians if you can’t even lead a single brainwashed woman?”

“Fine.” Eren’s grip around your hair tightened and he slammed your face onto the ground out of a sudden.

You tried breathing but when you inhaled you only tasted blood. Your nose was bleeding furiously and the pain was unbearable. A whimper escaped your lips, his attack had been too abrupt.

“Eren!” The older brother took a step forward to stop his younger brother.

“Get out, Zeke.” Eren lifted your face up from the ground to show your blood-covered face to his brother before slamming it back down with a ferocious smile.

“Don’t hurt-”

“What? I’m not killing her, I’m knocking some sense into her,” Eren replied nonchalantly, lifting your face up once again. He grinned at you and lied to your face. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just leave us alone.”

Zeke hesitated, his eyes were on you who was desperately trying to mouth something. The bottom half of your face was covered in blood and the stream of blood continued painting your neck and nightgown red.

“Don’t you trust me, big brother?” Eren knew what he was doing.

“Y-yes,” Zeke dragged a hand up his face, lifting his glasses in the process. He let his cold hand rest over his eyes and turned around on his heels. “I’ll be back in the morning, I’ll tell Yelena to guard this hallway.”

Your voice wouldn’t come out, your lips were trembling too much and the pain was overwhelming your senses.

When Zeke opened the door and closed it behind him, Eren lowered his face next to yours, “A slave to Marley, that’s what you are, (name). Loyal dogs like you disgust me. Do you bark when you’re told to? Won’t you bark for me?”

You used your entire strength into collecting all of your saliva and blood you had in your mouth on top of your tongue and spitting his face.

Your spit landed on his cheek and he looked unimpressed. He stared at you with boredom before shoving your face down onto the ground.

“I’ve always wanted to mess up your pretty face, (name).” He carded his fingers through your hair almost lovingly as you gargled in your own blood, coughing repeatedly. “Maybe if you were in the special forces, I’d have the chance-”

“You’re more pathetic than I thought,” you got over your coughing fit and spoke clearly. “Do you really believe people will betray Marley just because some egoistic guy with a superiority complex has the Founding Titan?”

Eren stopped petting your hair and flipped you over so he could watch your blood-covered face as you desperately tried to talk your way out of this. “I’m a slave to no one. I’m more of a leader than anyone alive,” he said as he glared at you.

“Yeah and for how long? Thirteen years? You’ll die when you’re thirty-three, what will be your biggest accomplishment?” you laughed at him. He was too stupid to see the bigger picture but you were going to make him see it.

“Bringing freedom to my people and-”

“What about Mikasa?” you asked, cutting his sentence short. You knew his weak point, you knew he treasured her. “Don’t you want to grow old with her?”

“Oh, her?” Eren hummed in thought. “She’s more of a loyal dog to me than anything.”

Your face contorted into something vile in disgust, the way he was dehumanizing her, your friend and comrade… It... It hurt more than it should have.

“You’re full of filth, nobody would let you lead them,” you gritted your teeth.

“You’re also full of lies. I can see right through you, we’re the same.” He grabbed your cheeks by the sides with a hand and squeezed them until your mouth opened from the force. He used his other hand to wipe your spit from his face and he spat in your mouth. “That goody-two-shoes act? You can charm everyone but me with that. I’m not stupid enough to fall for your lies.”

You gagged, wanting to spit his spit back out but he had pried your jaw open, it was impossible to get it out. You had to swallow.

Eren watched with sick amusement and you helplessly swallowed his spit.

Then, laughter filled the room.

It was you.

Raising a brow, he stared at you. Maybe, you were finally going insane.

“You can’t feel good about yourself unless you prove yourself to be the strongest, right, Eren?” You rolled over to try to get up from the ground. “It must feel good to be entrusted with leading some idiots into what you call freedom, huh? You must feel like a God!”

“Did I break you already?”

You wobbled as you got back up on your feet. The front of your nightgown was covered in blood and you could still taste your own blood, smell it too. You lifted your nightgown up to your face from the collar to wipe your nose.

“Break me? Maybe my nose but I’m smarter than you are. I can see everything clearly, I’ve been watching these people for years. I know who you are, a pitiful little kid trying to become the strongest to prove his worth. You’re never good enough, right?”

“You don’t know me, (name).” Eren was getting angry, your assumptions were upsetting him.

“I know you better than anyone else, Eren. You’re just a brat trapped in an adult’s body. You believe the answer is to kill all of your enemies and you’re worth nothing to anyone. Nobody likes you but your only two friends. One has already signed his contract to die and the other one is nothing to you, right? A pet as you said?” You were chuckling, taunting him to fight you even though you knew he was going to win. “I was at least smart enough to make them all trust me. If I become the Attack Titan, I will become a leader loved by everyone. I could carry out Zeke’s plan and follow orders better than you do. Don’t you think Zeke would love to have someone who obeys his orders to inherit the Attack Titan?”

His brows furrowed and he grumbled as he spoke. “You don’t believe our cause. Zeke won’t trust you.”

“Oh, now it’s your cause? I thought you were in it just to feel powerful! Are you just feeling threatened by me? Is it because you know I’m better than you?” you barked out a laugh, “You don’t know me at all, Eren.”

It was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t speak or move. Neither did you. Not until you decided it was time to end this.

“I’ll inherit the Attack Titan for you and carry out Zeke’s mission. You’re too much of a coward to obey simple orders because you’re way too narcissistic to listen to anyone other than yourself.” You grinned, your blood-stained teeth and lips looked eerie in the dark dim light of a candle. “I’ll lead my people to freedom.”

“You’re brainwashed. You only want to serve Marley.” He was trying to remind you of something so dumb, just an accusation without any real evidence.

“Did you believe all that because I said it?” You took a step forward, pointing a finger at him and giggling. “Do you really believe I would be a slave to some country or a person like you? I live for myself and I have the blood of the devil inside of me. I am a dog that can’t be tamed. But you, Eren Yeager, you’re nothing. Just a feral dog.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Eren took a couple of steps forward and brought his fist up in the air.

“Is that all you can do?” You started walking backward to avoid him. “Is that your solution to everything? Just kill the person who doesn’t agree with you? You’re talking about killing too much. Are you going to kill everyone but the Eldians to bring them peace? Is that your smartest plan? You’re pathetic.”

“I’m going to beat you until you can’t run your filthy mouth again.” Eren leaped forward and grabbed you by your nightgown, now, he had you in his hands. “Any last words?”

“I bet your father never told you he was proud of you. Is that why you’re obsessed with power-”

Crack.

You felt the burning pain on the side of your face that wrecked your nerves as his fist met your cheek. It completely knocked the wind out of you and you found yourself on the ground, your body bounced on the solid surface before blood splattered out from your mouth.

“Your face looks better when it’s battered up like this. Red is definitely your color, (name).” His tone was light, almost as if he was finally feeling himself. “And you said I didn’t know you!” He let out an airy chuckle.

Writhing in pain on the ground, you reminded yourself that the pain was temporary. If you let him win now, you would never be able to win against him.

“I’m not…” you groaned in pain before continuing your talk. “I’m not some special force soldier you can toy with. Those poor girls may be scared of you but I can assure you that you don’t scare me, not even one bit. You’re nothing but a man child in my eyes.” You stood back up, refusing to stay down. “You can mess with all the girls you want below your rank but the power you feel over them won’t last forever. It barely lasts two minutes, is what I’ve heard.”

Despite how much pain you were in, you smirked at him as he stood right in front of you, his height towering over yours.

“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.” Grabbing you by the neck with one hand, he turned you around and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his hold but it was useless, you were far too exhausted and the earlier fight had taken the last bit of your stamina away from you.

Eren nosed some of your hair out of the way and breathed into your neck before taking a deep inhale. The sweet scent of you and your blood filled his senses, his eyelashes fluttered with unsettling joy.

“I bet,” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “They won’t let you inherit the Attack Titan if you were pregnant.”

With that, he pressed himself against you and forced you to feel his growing bulge beneath his pants.

Your eyes widened and you fought back with renewed vigor, ferociously kicking and shaking your body. “I’ll kill you if you touch me, you bastard! Do you hear me? I’ll feed you to the dogs!!”

“No need for that, (name).” Eren squeezed the sides of your neck, pressing you harder against his body. “You called me a feral dog, right? I’ll fuck you like one.”

You shook your limbs trying to dig your nails into the skin of his arms to fight back but he stopped you with one single move.

Eren opened his mouth and let his teeth sink into the soft skin of your neck. A scream escaped your lips as he bit you harder until he tasted blood and wrecked all of your nerves. Your arms flailed uselessly by your sides before your entire body went limp.

His free hand moved up to knead the supple flesh of your breast as he continued biting you and rocking his hips into you.

Once he decided he couldn’t take it anymore, Eren took his hand away from your breast and hurriedly tugged down his pants. You whimpered and tried twisting your body away from him but his bite on your neck was like a predator’s, it didn’t let you move anywhere. Like a lion biting into a gazelle’s neck to keep it in place before ferociously devouring the poor animal, Eren was keeping you in place with his teeth only. He wasn’t going to stop, not until he proved his strength to you. Not until he devoured you whole.

Your plan had backfired.

He pushed you forward and both of you stumbled forward. You fell on all fours and he stayed on top of you, still biting into your neck. Growling, he hiked the thin skirt of your nightgown up using a single hand.

A pained sob left your lips. “Please, don’t.”

Eren smiled into the bite. He always knew how to get under someone’s skin, no matter how thick it was. He also knew that his threat of impregnating you was nothing but a way of humiliating you, reminding you of your place, the power he held over you, and how with a single move he could ruin your entire life.

You were the one who was nothing.

The real untamed dog was Eren. Not you.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

How childish.

He was nothing but a manchild.

Eren slid your underpants to the side and pulled his cock out. You sobbed as he lined himself up against your entrance.

“I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you-ahh-”

With a sharp thrust of his hips, he inserted the entire length of his cock inside you. He slapped his large hand on your mouth to keep you quiet but it still couldn’t stop your muffled screams echoing in the room.

He had been wanting to do this for so long. Just to shut you up and ruin you, to remind you of your place. Ahh, the power he felt right now was indescribable. It was as if he was on the tallest mountain in the world and nobody else could reach him. He was the strongest. The best. The leader. The Attack Titan’s next holder and Eldia’s new King.

In his twisted mind, he was the ruler of everything. Him having you around him like this and ravishing you only boosted his ego but the feeling of a small train of blood trickling onto his cock and down your thighs made him go berserk with a massive amount of power.

The thought of your helplessness as he took your innocence like this made him grow larger inside your cunt.

He started moving without giving you a chance to prepare yourself for his cock. Involuntarily moaning, you curled your toes and bit your lip to hold back your next moan.

Eren finally pulled his teeth away from your skin and chuckled as he tentatively pulled his hips back before abruptly slamming them forward. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Placing both of his hands on your hips, Eren began fucking you frantically, putting his entire weight behind each thrust and stroking every spot inside of your walls. Your virgin walls started to take the shape of his cock, making you his perfect cock sleeve.

“You’re gonna regret this, Yeager,” you hissed but it broke into a moan as he mounted you completely, his hips moving with a frenzied speed, punching the air out of your lungs.

“So far, I’m enjoying it,” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine and causing your teeth to chatter rapidly. It was as if you were flung into a blizzard.

Your body wasn’t doing it because it was cold in the room. No. It was then, you felt it for the first time.

Fear.

He groaned in pleasure as he continued fucking you frantically like a rabid dog in heat. His pace was ruthless, each thrust of his hips was punishing and hit deep deep deep inside of your pussy.

You could feel the very shape and girth of him, he was embedding it into your memory. With each thrust, he was making sure that you wouldn’t be able to be fucked by anyone without thinking of him. You were only going to think of the smell of his sweat, the sharpness of his teeth, the shape of his cock, and his lingering, calloused hands. Nothing else.

Eventually, his animalistic pace slackened and his hips started to move staggeringly. He desperately tried stealing a few more thrusts to indulge in your warm and slick cunt by humping you like a desperate dog but your pulsating walls caught him off guard.

As your pussy clenched around his cock, he snapped his hips forward to bury his entire length inside of you. You gasped in unwanted pleasure when the tip of his cock prodded against your cervix, ready to paint your insides white.

Eren’s cock throbbed and thick spurts of his seed flooded your womb. You let out a horrifying sound and sobbed whilst the warm feeling spread across your belly. He pulled out to watch his cum drip out of your pussy with a sinister grin on his lips at the same time you felt tears streaming down your face.

He was cruel. Always had been. However, he had finally proved who was stronger between the two of you.

It was him, he was the strongest.

You had lost against the other candidate.

The most important of them all, you had lost your pride, all of that training you had gone through in seven years felt like it was for nothing.

“I will inherit the Attack Titan,” he declared, simple and to the point.

You nodded in response, throat clenching in despair as you cried in defeat.

#eren yeager x reader #lmao a lottt of worldbuilding bfehkebfrhjbrfe #comment down below if i should write my ending for aot JFHKGHTKRJ #i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!!

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lysmune · 3 years

Text

Hoarfrost Heart

Human still

Pairing: KaeLumi CW: Kaeya has an anxious breakdown near the end, and a lot of this fic deals with his trauma of not opening up to people.

Blood is a loyal follower to Kaeya’s truths, a faint whisper that reminds him of everything that could—has—happened if he slivered an inch of his thoughts. It is the scent of iron he could never wash out, not from the thin line of death across the necks of so many people, not from his hands, nor from the soles of his feet, split open as he walks across the evergreen growth of thorns, fed fat from his deceit.

These are only skin deep, is how he convinces himself as he tucks the unease behind a veiled smile that pinches his cheeks. Flesh wounds will heal but honesty, baring an unguarded heart out upon his sleeve, is a dangerous game and Kaeya has no desire to tempt mortality again.

One narrow escape is enough.

Sweet words, sweeter lies, he offers those instead. They always repay him in trust, a valuable currency he never quite could give away, so he sacrifices what spare human feeling he has for the pristine beauty of a white winter when he responds. Clean, untainted, pure.

It is easier to deal with the disease that is loneliness than a knife to the back.

A laid-back, duty-shirking cavalry captain, whose dull seaward lineage is made riveting through ten rounds of Death After Noon. That is who Kaeya is.

That is how he introduces himself to Mondstadt.

That is the image he’ll set in the starlit traveller’s mind.

That is who she, with unabashed vocality, politely refuses to believe.

Lumine chalks it up to the vagueness of a hunch, and he can’t help but roll his eyes, click his tongue. Sure, he might enjoy throwing the same reason around, but it feels like complete nonsense to have it flung back at him. He pouts, intentionally puppy-like and innocent, and pleads with a tone of feigned hurt.

Lumine laughs.

Laughs and looks at him with topaz-cut eyes, eyes like honeyed spring water. Kaeya can’t decide whether he should feel offended at her subtle dig, or honoured that he’s made her smile. He settles on brushing it off with a shrug and a, “Well, you’ve got me there.”

“I know,” is Lumine’s response, a simple phrase that holds much more depth than it lets on, and he wonders if she’s seen just what it is he’s truly hiding.

The prospect sends chills down his spine. Does she know me, more than I do?

Kaeya drowns those fears in the tavern, his local safe haven, a place away from his worries and her all-seeing gaze. It is short-lived some nights, languorous on the others, but at least, here, the chatter is comfortable. Leaning forward, he listens to the slurred words, the odd secrets, to keep his thoughts at bay.

And yet

And yet, Kaeya finds himself following the wide expanse of her back, her small frame belying her insurmountable strength as she carries every single burden in silence. “Trust me,” she would assure with her sunlit smile. Kaeya would never admit it, but he does—he wants to.

But what has trust ever given me?

Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Everything is unflinchingly loud. How laughable, how maddeningly soft of him, to be so weak in his resolve. Against the hushed humdrum dawn, he watches her leave the gates.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. In her presence, Kaeya feels robbed of his vision. He looks to her footprints instead, at the trail of fireflies she leaves in her wake. They don’t hurt him as much as her wayward glances do, not as much as the sincerity in her voice when she reminds him that he can always seek her company when he needs someone to talk to.

“I won’t stay long in Mondstadt, anyway,” Lumine laughs, laced with melancholia. “Whatever your secret is, I’ll bring it with me.”

Kaeya’s chest tightens, constricts. “How fun would I be without my mysteries?” he hums and she scoffs.

“Well, either way,” she says, shrugging while she goes to her feet, “I’m here to listen.”

He knows, he knows, that’s why it’s proving difficult to keep all his bottled thoughts neatly safeguarded. Everything is easier around her, as though he can just be honest and loose-lipped, and bare, and Kaeya despises it.

He despises how vulnerable he feels, how vulnerable she makes him feel.

Each passing day only serves to coddle that parasite of an idea, the frail, tempting whisper at the shell of his ear, gnawing at him endlessly. The words coagulate in his throat, begging to be spoken and put to death all at once, barred only by gritted teeth and sheer willpower.

Lumine never quite pries him, not when he excuses himself of her company through the blatant lie of working through his commissions; nor when he hides at the corner of the bar when they celebrate her victorious homecoming; nor when his nightly patrols loop him back to her in some cyclical torment.

She gives him his space, lets him breathe. Kaeya isn’t sure if he enjoys the consideration, the lack of judgement, the misplaced respect.

A clean-cut, clinical distance maintained. Lumine never quite meets him again, and he never bothers. It’s easier, it’s easier, he tells himself, chanting it through like a broken record.

It’s easier, Kaeya convinces, even when he finds her perplexed at her usual spot at Good Hunter, bathed in the scarlet red of a sunset.

“My,” he greets, pulling up the chair reserved for him, “I don’t think I’ve seen you quite so bothered, Traveller.”

Lumine’s eyes never quite meets his, even when she’s turned her body to his direction. A chill creeps up the length of his spine.

“I’m leaving for Liyue,” she says under her breath, so quiet it’s near indistinguishable from the wind. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” is all Kaeya manages to muster. She doesn’t speak after that. He doesn’t either, all the sentences tangled and fumbling on his tongue, and It’s easier this way, he reminds himself still, even when she’s long receded into Mondstadt’s crowd.

There’s a ringing in his ears, a loud, obnoxious pounding against his skull.

Lumine’s leaving.

The creature in his chest twists, writhing as he inhales deeply, like it is wounded and angry. Isn’t this what I wanted?

Iron fills his mouth as his teeth bite into the inside of his cheek. He’s never once looked at her, not in the longest time, and before he knows it, Kaeya’s letting his feet lead him to the home she’s staying in, blood cold and hands trembling.

The last time Kaeya’s ever held a person so warm dear to him, he burned to ashes.

Something old and ancient stirs, an acquaintance he thought bygone. Wrapping around his shoulders like a winter veil, it hovers, large and engulfing.

What has trust given you? Trauma sneers. Kaeya swallows. Rain and ichor, and festering wounds. Scorched skin black to its bone, pain still as new and fresh as spring. All that hate and fear, and loneliness.

His hand rests quietly on the door, shaking softly.

Intimately, anxiety slithers around his neck, a spurned lover begging for a second chance. His back is soaked in the frozen thunderstorm, the terrorised flesh on his arm throbbing painfully, this memoir he’s carried with him since eighteen.

I should leave. I should go. There isn’t much point in this.

Flashes of white dancing at the peripheral of his eye, embers sparking like coals. Kaeya balls his hand into a fist, breaths shallow and ragged, the smell of carbonised ozone filling the air.

This was a terri-

“Kaeya.”

His demons fall quiet.

Her fingers are warm around his wrist, comfortingly so, a hearth on a winter’s eve, and Kaeya’s heart steadies. Everything does.

I’m scared, he realises when he keeps his gaze to the ground, when he struggles to look back at her, when he’s being honest to himself past all those pretences, a lost child navigating uncharted wasteland.

I’m scared, he realises, of learning how to trust. It feels like centuries since he has. What has trust given you? Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Her grip on his wrist tightens.

A home. A friend. A brother. Tiny, stumbling memories that fill with laughter.

Kaeya swallows and turns around, and this time, he meets the gold of her eyes. In the dying light of day, she seems to glow brighter still, undying and unyielding.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. As long as it’s her, he can learn to live with that, to have faith in her promises and follow her lead.

“Are you alright?” Lumine questions, and he’s touched by the worry in her voice. Kaeya allows himself to smile, just barely, and nods.

“I’m here for that offer,” he says. There’s an unusual tremor in his words, a nervousness that he’s not quite felt in ages, and ages past. She blinks, once, twice, and Kaeya wonders if he’s misread.

Maybe-

Lumine laughs, then, like chimes in the wind, and Kaeya can’t help but chuckle along. With practiced ease, she slips her hand around his, linking their fingers together.

Kaeya lets her.

“Make yourself at home,” she guides him through the door and into her space effortlessly, seamlessly. Within the four walls she calls hers, in the incandescent ardour of her presence, he feels safe. Safe and heard, and at peace.

It isn’t likely that Kaeya will tell her everything he’s been shouldering within the day, nor the coming week, or month, or possibly a year, but he knows he eventually will. If it’s her, he wants to, and when she offers him a gentle sunburst smile, he’s certain of it.

For the first time since eighteen, Kaeya offers his heart, bare and beating, and him.

#genshin impact #kaelumi #kaeya #lumine #genshin fanfic #munewrites #f: genshin #ch: kaeya #ch: lumine #otp: your absence is loneliness #an: i acc cannot process words rn because kaelumi is just #an: mY HEART #an: THEIR DYNAMIC #an: I AM DYING ON THIS HILL

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dokidokey · 4 years

Text

trace in the raindrops

summary: your relationship with keigo has been rocky for the past few weeks and your mind hasn’t been quiet in so long. what the both of you would give to take some things back.

pairings: takami keigo / hawks x reader

bingo slot: never got to say goodbye

genre: angst

warning/s: swearing, insecurities, depression, blood, death

word count: 4,989

notes: sixth bingo piece yay! i needed to get this out i’m sorry ehe if you’re uncomfortable with the topics this story is going to discuss, please don’t read. my event masterlist can be found HERE.

Raindrops are pattering against the window as you trace the frazzled lines it makes from the other side, awed by the way a droplet hits the glass like an explosion, breaking apart into tinier little drops like frail branches. You force yourself to listen to the rain as it rages outside, blocking out the soft padding of Takami’s feet on the carpet. You don’t want to see him go with this hell of a storm going on.

“Hey,” his murmur battles with the harsh noises outside, and you tilt your head just the slightest to let him know you’re listening. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod curtly, not bothering to say anything because you’ve been like this for the past two days, gazing back at the gray scenery on the other side of the window pane. You’re expecting he will at least go over to you to pat your head like he did before, or maybe kiss you if you are lucky, but no. The muffled click of your bedroom door closing, soon followed by the rattle of the front door, is the only thing you got.

There’s a drawn out exhale from you, the tips of your fingers leaving blurred lines as it cascades down the glass along with the rain, settling in a fist on the sill as the ache in your chest feels like it’s crumpling your heart. Cheers to his girl friend for specifically asking for him to pick her up in this weather, and cheers to your boyfriend for agreeing instantaneously with a laugh as he gently pried you off him earlier.

The universe just isn’t with you today, huh? At least the mad pelting of the water seems in time with your heart, beating erratically against your ribcage. How you wish it’s caused by Keigo’s blinding smile or his crazy jokes, but it isn’t. You don’t even remember the last time he did that. You don’t remember the last time he faced you with the brightest and most genuine smile.

At least you get a glimpse of it when he’s with his friends. Right? That’s enough, right? At least somewhere outside the walls of your home, Keigo has a place where he is happy and truly himself. Even if it is not with you anymore.

You don’t know when the prickling feeling of jealousy, or maybe it was envy? You aren’t sure, it feels more like a mixture of both － a heterogeneous one too, so that is why you can’t seem to drown out the feeling. Something heavy settled on the pits of your heart and it grew its roots there, becoming one with your veins. You aren’t sure when you started feeling that, but when you understood the fact that your Keigo isn’t the same Keigo to his friends, that was when you welcomed the feeling in your heart, letting it grow and bloom inside you.

You never told Takami though, too afraid that in the early haze of his love for you, he would drop his friends and stick by your side. You’d probably be happy, not until you drown yourself of the guilt that he chose you over them － over the people he’s a different kind of happy with. You’re willing to destroy yourself inside to keep that little something of real happiness for him.

It’s not that his friends intentionally hurt your feelings because when they pass you both together, they would smile at you or nod in your direction. But there are some though, who goes straight to clapping Keigo in the back without acknowledging your existence. It made you feel small. What’s worse and caused the prominent bitter taste in your mouth was that Keigo never bothered to introduce you. He’ll go on talking to his friend, or friends, and you’re left standing beside him awkwardly, not sure if you should look at them or not, or kindly excuse yourself away.

There’s a bright flash in your line of sight, electric roots crawling down the gray clouds to find a home on the ground, quickly followed by a giant clap of thunder that shakes the walls. It resonates in time with your hurting heart, the drizzling rain like the salty tears slowly painting a shiny streak on your cheek.

It scares you how aware you are of yourself. The self-destruction is just on the very tips of your fingers. Only a little more, you keep chanting in your mind like a broken cassette tape as you push yourself upright. The digital clock bleeds the numbers 03:18 AM in bright red, creating a crimson glow on the surface of your table.

You didn’t mind that there’s a pounding ache blossoming on the back of your head. It lessens your guilt somehow. To you, at least, it feels like the proper apology Keigo deserves. You’re not even sure anymore if you’re guilty because you refused to answer his questions earlier or because you let the same insecurities get to you again.

Class ended early and as always, Takami is waiting outside your classroom. It takes a lot of effort to pull your cheeks up to give him a tight-lipped smile. His hands are gentle as he pats your head, and your heart constricts at the action, because your mind has been plagued with thoughts that made Keigo cry when you opened up to him. The feel of his hands cradling your cheek that day still lingers, the ghost of a promise that seems to be fading as time passes by.

He takes your bag in his and slings an arm loosely around your shoulder, steering you clear of the swarm of bodies littering the hallway. You’re floating again as he leads you, your surroundings turning into a blur as you let your thoughts drown you away.

You learned nothing today. Your professor had called you twice on two different occasions, and the embarrassment of not being able to answer his questions just added to the monstrous pile of negativity lounging in your head. Your mind keeps flitting back to your boyfriend, who you very much love. You think about how disconnected you are to him sometimes, more so to the world, and it feels like you’re taking his love for granted because you don’t know how to return the same intensity of his feelings.

You’re uptight, too. He didn’t really say that, but you know he thinks you are, because you are. You’re not in the same level of fun as his friends. Hell, you know your fun and their fun aren’t synonymous. You’re so different from Takami and his friends. It is like, if you look at a chart depicting Keigo, everything is stellar except you. His standards drastically dropped when you came into the picture

It further proves just how much you don’t deserve Keigo.

You’re shaken awake when Takami’s hands abruptly leave yours, caused by the force of a body colliding with your boyfriend. It was the girl who asked him to pick her up in the middle of the sky’s wailing two weeks ago, and your heart is rolling down your body towards the ground as Keigo’s hands swiftly latch on her arms, steadying her.

“Oh! Sorry Kei!” She giggles, and if the sound is a thing, it’d be the blinding sunshine. It tinkles like a lone wind chime, the melody being carried by the wind like a frail dandelion. Her eyes are twinkling as she takes a step back, gaze fixed on Takami, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen adorning her beautiful face.

Kei. It’s a cute nickname, you will admit. You never had the privilege of calling him nicknames though. And the fact that she’s standing there in front of your boyfriend, with you, his girlfriend, by his side, and uttering that word is just. . . She’s so much more than you, and jealousy sinks its green claws into your heart like a fork to a toaster as the pain surges in your chest like high voltage.

You’re not existing in Keigo’s world once again. You stand at his side, panicking a little because what are you supposed to do? Look at them? Smile at his friend? Make yourself known? Definitely not.

When Keigo wraps an arm around you again, you’re startled. Your head bumps on his chin when you abruptly look up from your phone, and there’s a soft hiss of pain from him.

“Sorry,” you squeak, quickly pocketing the device on your hand and cradling his face. “Sorry, sorry. Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head and you notice how long his hair is now. The soft tuff of ash blonde is kissing the back of his neck and without thinking, your hand moves to feel his hair. There’s a melancholic look swimming in your eyes as you do.

Keigo kisses your forehead then, and suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It was enough to make you cry, but you tell yourself no, you can’t cry, because when you cry, Keigo will ask questions. Questions mean answers, and your answer is his friends. All of them. How the mere thought of his friends break your heart so bad. How even the sight of them makes you feel so worthless in comparison.

You aren’t ready to tell him that, and you’re afraid you never will be.

During the car ride home, he keeps asking you if you’re okay. Are you sick? You don’t know. Maybe you are. Sick of his friends, sick of how they make you feel. Sick of this world. Sick, sick, sick. Sick in the fucking head for being like this. Why aren’t you like a normal person with a normal brain with normal feelings? Were those too much to ask? Was it that hard to give you that?

All you give Keigo are shrugs and shakes of your head and silent whispers of denial. Eventually, he grew tired of asking and of your worthless answers, releasing an annoyed huff and scrunching his eyebrows together in irritation.

There’s a bubbling guilt brewing in you from his reaction, and out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his and ask, “Are you mad?”

His expression doesn’t change as he shakes his head no, but the way he shrugs off your touch is enough answer for you. He is quiet for the rest of the day and his irritation sticks to him like a leech, seeming to suck him dry of his love for you as he didn’t even bother to bid you good night when he went to bed.

It all feels too fast, too much of a whirlwind. You feel like a candle nearing its end, your flame dangerously close to the other end of the wick.

The guilt of making Keigo feel bad is perched heavily on your shoulder. There’s an unbelievably massive emptiness inside you as you realize you’re just another version of Atlas, carrying the world alone. It’s insanely frightening that somehow, in some way, Keigo is your world. You’re carrying him and all his feelings and everything in your hands, and you can only take so much what with your thoughts piercing you like fire-tipped arrows.

So your way of forgiving yourself is this: depriving yourself of sleep. Maybe you won’t eat the whole day tomorrow too to make the guilt vanish like it’s never even there. Your hand is absolutely numb as you force yourself to move it. There’s only one last paragraph left of your homework and as you come to end it with a period, a relieved sigh bubbles out your lips and your head smack down harshly on the table, eyesight spinning.

By the time a hand is soothingly rubbing your back and another one is shaking you awake, your digital clock glares 04:02 AM to you. Keigo pushes stray hairs out of your face as you blink at him wearily.

“Come to bed,” he murmurs, and you revel in the softness of his words, the gentleness of his touch. There are tears brimming behind your closed eyelids as you lean in on his touch. When Keigo laces his fingers with yours to help you up, you oblige. When he tucks you in and wraps an arm around your waist, you smile, a lone tear trickling on your temple.

You’d sacrifice endless sleepless nights for this kind of affection again. If all this is caused by Keigo’s drowsy state, it’s okay, you won’t complain. At least like this, in the quiet of your home and the chaos in your head, you found a little solace, even just for the meantime.

Your spacing out during lectures is taking its toll. Yesterday, when your professor suddenly announced a pop quiz, the number and equations on your paper didn’t make any sense. You failed the quiz and, today in history, you fail another pop quiz. The nearing exams don't calm your frazzled state of mind. The constant fights with Keigo is only adding up to your stress and you’re not sure where to go anymore.

You find him unfair. In times like this that you and him aren’t on good terms, he has his friends to run to. You? What about you? You have nothing except him, and it’s sad to think that you can’t be honest of the one person closest to you. It’s heartbreaking that he’s also the cause of your constant sadness.

You appreciate Keigo’s efforts, really. There’s nothing like the way your heart swells whenever he approaches you to try and mend whatever it is that’s broken between you, but the swelling of your heart causes your throat to close up, and he’s left with choked breaths and stuttered out words. In the end, he let it be.

It’s a Saturday and the exams are over, and you sleep in just for today, trying to catch up on the consecutive all-nighters you pulled to study that didn’t help you out in the end, because most of your answers are just blank spaces on the paper. It’s late and sunny, the window to your right cresting slanted patterns on the wooden floorboards.

The bathroom door opens and comes out a freshly showered Takami, drying his hair with a towel and clad in denim. He halts as he sees you awake, but continues just as quick to pull out a shirt from his cabinet.

“We’re going out today, the guys and I,” he informs you in a cold voice, and it’s like being pricked by the sharpest icicle. He doesn’t bother looking at you as he puts his shirt on and grabs his spare keys for the front door. “I’ll be out late so keep the door locked while I’m gone.”

The heaviness in your chest is unmatched by Keigo’s ignorance and icy attitude as he lets himself out of your shared bedroom without another glance. You try to convince yourself that no, he just needs to get something outside and he’ll come back to bid you goodbye, maybe even kiss you or at least pat your head, but you can’t stomach the chilling sound of the door slamming shut in this eerily quiet house.

You didn’t bother getting up to eat, proceeding to just sleep and hoping your slumber would slowly dissipate the clawing jealousy and envy brooding in your chest. You wake up some time at night with the constant buzzing of your phone. You’re greeted by numerous texts from Rumi, a close friend of yours.

[rumi 08:17 pm] y/n i swear to fucking god is this your boyfriend

[rumi 08:17 pm] 927482.jpg

[rumi 08:17 pm] im going to break this mans neck y/n im telling you

[rumi 08:18 pm] RESPOND Y/N WHERE ARE YOU

[rumi 08:18 pm] it really IS your fucking boyfriend

[rumi 08:19 pm] whos that bitch on his lap

[rumi 08:19 pm] y/n if you dont respond asap im dragging these two by their necks outside

[rumi 08:20 pm] Y/N I SWESR WHERE ARE TOH RESPONS TI MY TEXTS FFS

Your heart is mad against your chest as it beats erratically, dainty fingers shaking as it taps on the attachment Rumi sent you. You have to increase your phone’s brightness because all you can see are the neon lights in the background but alas, after the settings panel lowered, there he is, with the same girl sitting on his lap.

“O-oh,” your breath stutters. You stare at the photo longer, hoping that it will magically transform into another man’s face because hell, that cannot be your Keigo. No. But it is him. That’s the same shirt he was wearing when you woke up. The way his eyes are shining and the quirky smile on his face is a clear giveaway that yes, it really is your boyfriend. You don’t miss the hand lazily draped over the small of her back.

That is the same hand that used to pat your head, rub your back, comb through your hair. That is the same hand that used to hold yours, although you can’t remember when was the last time.

Your chest physically aches at the thought of Keigo in there, with her, without you. He’s out there and you’re here after he left you with nothing. He has some audacity. And he’s going to come home to you in, say, three or four hours? For what?

But hey, who says he will come home tonight anyway?

The first thought finds it home inside your brain immediately, quickly followed by more as they try to take up the spaces in your head. What if Keigo doesn’t come home? Would he kiss her? Is he cheating? Does he love her? Is she better? What is wrong with you? What happens if Keigo doesn’t come back tonight? Does he tell her the same soft I love yous he tells you? What if they. . . ?

A wracking sob shakes your body heavily, fists tight against the comforter you’re slowly pulling up your knees, trying to shield yourself from what, you do not know. The betrayal feels like no other － like a bitter something that is slowly crawling down your throat and heart, sitting heavy in your stomach, ruining you inside.

The embers of your hate for his friends flares up, the flames licking at your chest as it aches. And no one even cares to remind him he has a girlfriend? That letting another girl sit on your lap while you’re in a relationship means you might as well break up? They know of your existence and stance in his life yet they let him anyway?

Keigo let her anyway.

Another sob tumbles out of your mouth, somehow it is the only comforting sound inside the tense silence in your room. What you’d give for Keigo to be home, wrap you in his arms, and assure you everything will be alright. What you’d give to take back all your confessions about the absolute chaos in your head, feeling like a fool for letting your defenses down and being vulnerable in front of him just to treat you like this.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there when the front door rattles open, and soon there’s a drenched Takami standing on your bedroom’s doorway. The rain is raging outside and you didn’t even notice.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, chest heaving, taking cautious steps toward your slumped form. You’re not sure why he’s saying sorry. Maybe Rumi did drag him and that girl out of the club.

You wipe the back of your hand to your cheek, erasing the evidence of your crying. You plast on a wobbly smile at him. “It’s okay,” you assure, despite the fact that you’re not assured. Pushing the comforter off you, you make a way for the pile of towels on the corner, and approach your boyfriend.

There’s a pained look on his face as you brought the cloth to his face, gently drying the rainwater dripping on his skin. Keigo sighs and angles his face away from you and grabs your wrist.

“Stop.”

You shake him off, the sides of your eyes burning, placing the towel on top of his head and drying his hair. It hurts to see him right now, but at least he’s home. Right? At least he’s here. With you. He came home.

“Y/N,” he stresses, hands gripping your arms hard like hot ice and shaking you adamantly. “For fuck’s sake, Y/N, I said I’m sorry.”

Keigo’s voice cracks.

You smile again, a little crooked, a little hurt. Your breath is hot against his cheek when you say, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Keigo exhales, something dark looming on his face. He pushes your hand away, and a tear slips down your cheek, but you’re quick. Your hand swipes it away as fast as it fell down, and there’s only a shadow of the trail it left.

The man in front of you sighs in exhaustion as he runs a shaking hand through his hair, the sound heavy on his chest. He sounds so tired. Fed up. Done. Is this how he will break up with you? The thought alone breaks your heart, and there is another trickle of tear down your eyes, and a choked sob escapes you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Keigo murmurs in remorse as he slowly pulls you in his arms, and you immediately latch to him, uncaring of the voice inside your head saying this is the same man who has his hands on another girl. He came home. He’s here with you. That is all that matters. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

There’s no stopping your tears as it soaks the neckline of his shirt. Your breath is hot against his neck, contrasting his skin that is cold from the rain. “I know Rumi told you. She talked to me,” he explains, lips grazing your temple in a way that hurts so good. “I’m sorry, baby, it’ll never happen again.”

You pull your head away from his neck, breathing in through your nose, voice croaky. “I－ I’ve never－ You don’t see me sitting like that on other men's lap, Keigo,” you lament, the image flashing before your eyes again. “I feel so cheated.”

His hands are caressing your back and the pressure is a nice reminder that you aren’t alone anymore. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Though you know no amount of sorrys can mend that little piece of your broken heart, you let it slide. You let it go. You just relish in this moment you manage to steal away from his friends, snuggling against his neck despite the cold bite of his wet clothes on your skin.

When Keigo suggests both of you clean up now that you’re also drenched in rainwater, you oblige. The soft feeling of his hands rubbing your scalp and his whispers of countless I’m sorrys is kept behind the tiny area of your bathroom. When you’re cuddled up to him right before bed, you don’t understand the difference of I love you and I’m sorry anymore.

It’s raining again.

Keigo decided to take you out today, saying it has been so long since the last you did. There’s a bitter remark in the back of your head saying, that’s because you don’t pay attention. It’s always your friends over me. It’s always her over me. But you ignored it, too elated by your boyfriend’s proposals because finally, after so long, it’s you and him again.

You look up at your transparent umbrella, eyes transfixed on a raindrop that lazily glides over the curve of the plastic, rejoining the ones that had built up at the ends. It falls down the puddle at your feet, the echoes of its fall waving in the water. You smile and pull out your phone to call Keigo. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.

He picks up on the second ring. “Sorry,” comes his greeting, “I’m on my way, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” There’s nothing to be sorry for. You move the tips of your shoes to tap the puddle, and your reflection on the water dances. “I’ll be waiting here. Take care, okay? I lo－”

You don’t see it because you’re looking the other way, totally oblivious of the car reeling towards your direction. There was no beep or honk or anything. All there was was the screeching of tires on wet asphalt, but it’s too late.

You make eye contact with the wide-eyed man behind the wheel. Touya’s eyes look about to fall, and it would have pulled a good laugh out of you because this usually calm and collected friend of Keigo is panicking, but you know you can’t do that. Not anymore. Not ever.

The pain comes at full blow on your chest and your breath is knocked out of your lungs from the impact. You manage to register the fact that after that excruciating hit, your body is thrown back and hits the shed’s post. Something cracks through the happenings of it all.

Your phone is not in your hands anymore, your umbrella is gone. The rain is pattering against your face, mixing with the blood slowly pooling under your body. You barely understand Touya’s words as he runs off to you, lips moving in frenzy as he talks on his phone.

Keigo’s heart drops. What the fuck was that?

“Y/N,” he calls, dread sitting tight on his chest, “Y/N? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You don’t answer. He wants nothing than to get out of this fucking train and go to you. This seems too slow. Too slow.

Faintly, he hears it. A voice. His friend’s voice, to be exact. What the hell is Touya doing there with you? He picks up a few words, like accident and ambulance, and it feels like his heart is about to fall.

What happened to you? God, if anything bad happened to you, Keigo might lose his mind.

He’s out of the train when his phone rings again, and his heart skips with the thought that maybe it’s you, but when it displays Todoroki’s name, he almost throws the device away. “What?” He snaps, wiping the raindrops falling frantically on his face. His irritation and anxiety heightens. It’s like the raindrops are there to tell him to move faster, walk faster, get to you faster.

“Keigo, fuck, fuck, fuck,” comes Touya’s voice in Takami’s ear, and he abruptly stops at the distressed tone of his voice before moving again, mind wrapped around the thought of getting to you immediately.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Touya moans, “I’m so fucking sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean it, man.”

Keigo refuses to accept it. No. He ends the call and his rushed walk turns into a sprint, the soles of his shoes beating in time with the drops of rain. Maybe this is all a dream － a vivid one at that, because when he sees the familiar shed where you told him you’ll wait, it all feels too real.

His legs are straining from the effort he’s exerting to get to you faster, yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to. Seeing you will make it real. Keigo cannot accept that. He doesn’t want to accept that.

But there you were, eyes toward the sky and unseeing, arms splayed. Fuck. He skids to a stop next to your body, ignoring the bite of the concrete against his knees and Todoroki, who is looking at him wide-eyed.

“No, no, no, no,” Keigo rasps, hands hover over your body. The fear of touching you is sending alarms off inside his head. No. This cannot be true. This isn’t you.

But you’re wearing the necklace he gave you on your first anniversary, the gold lace hanging crooked on your neck.

He doesn’t mind the mix of blood and rain seeping into his clothes as he carefully, carefully places a hand over your forehead, and he wants nothing but to shake you awake but the dead look in your eyes is killing him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispers, closing your eyelids and resting his forehead on yours, and he cries. Is this what he gets because he’s been neglecting you? Is this in exchange for the act he pulled yesterday night? Is this the universe taking back the greatest thing in his life because he didn’t appreciate it enough?

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Keigo has it etched on his mind － your little phrases over the phone whenever the call is nearing its end. Take care. I love you. Bye. With the last word drawn out, childlike and wondrous. You weren’t even able to say those things. One last time.

But Keigo is aware of all the times he did not bid you goodbye. Every instance is eating away at him every day, his pride too big for him. It feels as though he took your for granted, and yes, maybe he really did.

What Keigo would give to turn back time and love you the right way you deserved.

He doesn’t realize when the medics came. He didn’t respond when a voice asked him to step back, thrice, until arms were lifting him off his feet. He didn’t say anything when somebody asked his name. All he can see is your body, drenched in water and blood.

You always did love the rain, so maybe that is why he’s so transfixed with the webs of crimson slowly mingling with the water on your skin. He watches as it becomes one with the rain, dripping down the pavement, and he knows soon it will disappear, all evidence of how once upon a time, Takami Keigo lost the love of his life in this very place.

more notes: i don’t know why i do this to myself heh this was supposed to be way darker and sadder, but i changed it last minute jskdl hope you enjoyed!

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