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anantaru · 2 years

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THREE SECONDS

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — as your relationship was ready to take the next step, itto wanted you to meet his granny who had raised him for the majority of his life and was beyond thrilled to show you where he grew up in as a child, or especially how cozy his old bedroom seemed to be.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — this fic stems from a little thirst i wrote a while ago and since i adored that idea so so much i just had to make a whole one shot for it, didn’t expect it to get so long though, still, enjoy! <3

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 5.9k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, messy, whiny itto but also rough itto, riding, fingering, he's insatiable, the horny took him hostage, slight size difference (i mean he's huge), semi! public + his granny is next door preparing dinner.

arataki itto, the one, the only— a man, who could never be easily defeated in the eyes upon his very self.

by the same token, he, in no circumstances regarded anything as a real believed problem which he would have to face in his life sooner or later on, to a higher notice, was he someone who'd pick out the clear positive in most heeded aspects and proceed to give his furthermost, unswerving best.

for you, he was everything and anything, all at once. The bordering, ingrained proximity between you both could have been esteemed like a mind altering drug— neither of you was marginally capable to keep a distance between each other, not when your relationship carried on to bring forth the best of your abilities.

arataki itto— the love of your life, your soulmate, a man who, to the actual core, triumphantly won your heart and sung a promise to protect it from danger of any kind.

be that as it may, tonight, your entire relationship had all gotten a different meaning in his life because of an undisclosed exponent, itto came into hazardous contact with his first real enemy in a long time— the name of the weighty villain was well known, ponderously soliloquized upon the brimming nations of teyvat, the revolting mischief;

anxiety.

now, to remain logical and give the full picture— today was the prized day where you were going to lastly make acquaintance with the person who had raised him for the larger number of his being— his granny, who graciously took him in as a little oni and fondly watched after him with peerless faith and love in this world.

and despite that, unbeknownst to itto, you were, without no holds barred, feeling the same level of distress. It wasn't unnatural to sought after such a devoted step in a relationship— on the flip side can it become undoubtedly frightening and alarming, singularly when it was a striking indicator to remark just how dead serious you both conceived your relationship and its fancied continuance.

when the evening befell the nation of inazuma in its brilliant illustrious artistry, you had met up with your timid boyfriend to then, fidgety stride to his grannies small sized house which had been a partially shade far outside of inazuma city.

your zooming thoughts— like cannon balls, were in abysmal need of required relaxation, in reality, you truly had no reason to be this frightened because even though you had never met her prior to this day, you heard nothing but subliming wonderful deeds about the woman in question, her accepting care and understandings, the way she did not see any differences in humans and oni— viewing them as equal.

"hey no sleeping!" itto suddenly barks, "wait wait are you feeling sick? we can turn around and sit for a while." oh, he sounds nervous but you insist you're fine, because truthfully, you had just reached your destination and you won't be defeated by something as insignificant as nervousness— it's alright, yet you wonder if your hands could please stop sweating so much? ignore it ignore it, there's no way back now.

in front of the door made of otogi wood, your boyfriend lessened his handsome face to meet you, holding your pretty eyes with his diamond shaped pupils. You easily allow yourself permission to cross the fleeting words in your thoughts to run over his question, what he had asked was indeed chucklesome, in a way that you weren't for certain if the spelled out sentence was solely pointed towards your person or if he was in reality questioning himself. "yes i'm alright— are you though?"

the jocular idea of turning around did not cross your mind, not when you came this far and speaking forthcomingly, the pronounced concern on itto's scrunched expression was much larger and dignified than your own, yet despite that, said tangible worry wasn't one bathed in hesitancy or doubts, more— in an enthusiastic procedure that you were, at last, meeting such an important person in his life.

"of- of course i am!" he blabbers, "do i not look okay?!" yeah.. he must be thoroughly relaxed, right? that must be the obvious case, though he was actively waving his hand in the air— yet in front of his cheeks, he made sure he's covering himself, so you wouldn't get a singular chance to catch him blush in a full scarlet pitch, "why— why the hell shouldn't i be?"

"you seem nervous." you bluntly stated but teased, firmly deepening the eye contact and archons, how flustered itto could become when you won't tear your enthralling eyes off him, "— or scared." you carry on to unfitly taunt your lover, sneakily drawing down a firm grin but leaving your brows quirked up light heartedly, "whenever you're experiencing one of those two emotions, your voice gets a little higher, you know?"

"wha-" he interjects, "it doesn't!" for a crisp second, itto came to terms with his graspable frame of mind— because why should he hide his agitation from you? and then the straightforward tension that had been viciously eating him up from the inside out ceased to exist, "not true!" now, come now, "not me!" it had blurred itself out when he got ruminated with a sudden contagious laugh from you while caressing his arm to soothe his worries once more.

"yeah, i can see that." these are some mean turn of events to play with your boyfriends sensitive feelings like that, he figured, so he let his strong hands shelter your soft cheeks in a heart beat, "i'm never scared of anything." he's unnerved, back to his confident self.

"never ever ever, in a million ever never years!"

"you're crazy." you laugh and offer him a signature smile, freely blustering out a sheltered breath as you humanely lean into his left palm— itto flashes you his pearly white teeth and his thumb was lightly tapping on your plump bottom lip before placing a sensual kiss on top.

curiously enough, he never missed the chance to do that, to flip his thumb over your lips with a large smile, so he could lead you through what he was originally planning to do— to smooth you.

"lets get moving m'lady." he refrains, behaving a split amount differently, in all respects energized, "we're already in front of the door."

"you know what i meant!" he pipes up in an immediate rebuttal while angrily stomping his feet on the ground, banteringly pinching your hip, "ouch!" you loudly squeak out in surprise but itto was quicker— because he directly then knocked on the wooden door so you couldn't get back at him without letting his granny see it too.

his coruscating eyes, they expectantly bunch up while actively awaiting for his granny to open the large door to his childhood home, the place, were no matter what past memories, whether good or bad, had been crafted.

"dear, is that you itto?" you paid attention to an older ladies puny asserting voice upon a small space between door and frame, revealed was a short and on the face of it, feeble woman, appearing from behind. "granny! oh granny!" itto loudly cheers and muses, "you sure took your time granny!" this was an all in all cherished attribute you treasured about itto's entire personality— while surely, it by no means has been spread amongst the crowds that he was known for his loud and sparkling persona, but observing his innocent delight when encountered with his parental figure, openly fostered a total gladden in you— it's because you love him, just how he was.

in redirected regard of your own self, you didn't dare to move a single inch— as if frozen to the cold ground, though be that as it may, you could proceed with your reasoning and refer to it as the 'not well regarded accessory' to your continuous pestering tenseness that wickedly sauntered through head to toe.

but on a positive note, it was beneficial enough for itto to be this tall and large in comparison to your own frame, meaning you were capable to easily slip behind his back in hiding.

"this is who i've been telling you about." damn it, a genuine smile plucked the outer region of his lips as he largely stepped aside to reveal you like a gift from the heavens, his hands embarrassingly pointing towards you.

before you can say anything at all, itto had gladly taken over the role of the awkward introduction process himself and introduced you to his lovely granny.

again, thanks to the electro archon for your perfect boyfriend.

"it is such a deep pleasure of meeting you, dear." whatever it may be now, the woman conveyed an immediate tranquillizing quell which had brightly subdued your tensed muscles. "the pleasure really is all mine, miss!" extending your hand to her, she slowly lunged forward to shake it as you introduced yourself again.

now, in retrospect, this entire time, you had been tremendously nervous— highly strung, repeatedly shifting in your shuddering stance from left foot to right foot, right foot to left foot, though now, as you walked into her small home— with itto being a gentleman and closing the door shut behind you both, you at present had felt like you were truly welcomed in her abode.

(major mental sticker for the next time: don't let the useless negativity consume your goddamn mind, okay?)

well, back to business.

throughout the time, itto's sizable hand was, no matter what, situated solidly on the region above your behind, lovingly stationed on your lower back while he guided you to the homely warm and restful living room.

when you listlessly skimmed through the many decorations of the place, you discovered a framed picture of itto as a child next to his granny, it wasn't difficult to see their emotions through the stilled memory, both were marvelously happy and utterly fulfilled— grateful, with a squishy onikabuto plushie being sponged and pressed into itto's chest.

how long have you been staring at the frame? you can't recall, but fortunately to you, you got drawn back to the present reality when your boyfriend pinched your arm. His grandma— such a warm hearted lady, had affectionately assembled two beverages meant for you as she further beckoned you two to take a seat on the mellow couch.

"this is quite embarrassing." she weirdly was in a panicked stance about something rather awful, even going as far as to idly enclose her slender arms around herself, shaking, "what is it granny? are you sick?"

itto pucks himself into the seat with concern, yet striving to stand up right again and aid her in whatever was the critical problem at hand, "oh no! dear." she worrisomely shakes her head and her cheeks irradiated a scarlet tint, "but the dinner isn't ready yet!"

"that's all?!" itto exhales enormously from his chest— to a greater extent, one could say he was about to pass out from the thought of having something serious happen without him being in on it. Despite your rocky state of emotions from beforehand, you were now hopeful and viewed this polished opportunity as your sweet time to shine.

"can i be of help?" you bring forth self assured confidence in your tone color, "i might not be as skilled as you but i can try!" sliding the glass back on the coffee table, you were ready to get up and aid in the kitchen— it was not a big deal and you were always happy to help, especially when it was someone who was regarded as the closest family member to your boyfriend.

having said that, the wishing reply you had longed for, wasn't actually what happened, "there's no need dear." she sweetly giggled around her words, being truly flustered to the core by your sweet attempt to help her out, pretty much warming up with you already— you were lovely in her eyes, "and i'm certain itto desperately wants to show you around, isn't that right?"

you, of course, won't argue with that, "so damn right!" itto was full of happiness, and now, he's pushing himself up from his seat, additionally inviting you over to grab onto his hand so he could lead you around everything, "there's much to show after all!" with your hands quietly placed on your thighs, you feel nothing but giddy and take his palm, but rationally, you'd rather spend time with her so you could get to know her better.

that certainly was the best idea, but inside of you, the sultry skittish feeling of watching itto like that— so happy and excited, was priceless in your very eyes, maybe ... you could sneak in a few fleeting kisses before having to come back, hmmm, this does sound quite bewitching now, doesn't it?

on the way out of the living room, you were met once again with objects from his past, all pridefully shown and displayed around the tiny corridor he was leading you in. Next, on the very left, you found yourself in front of a wooden door that wasn't like any other, it was, quite frankly, messed up with what seemed to be symbols clumsily drawn on with a bunch of pencils— very itto typical, you humbly added.

"there we go." he's so excited, happy, euphoric— are there any other ways to possibly describe his emotions right now because in itto's perspective none of them were doing it justice, "the room of a real oni!"

"aww!" you accept the entry and let him close the door, leaving you both sheltered in place. his room was bigger than you had actually expected; a small, cleaned bed lovingly decorated with two larger plushies on top— one specifically caught your eyes, it was the same one that you saw earlier on the picture with his grandma, the onikabuto exemplar, while the other was funnily resembling a ruin guard of some sorts?

without much to say, both were worn off, he must've played with them in his childhood days.

"what do you think?" he quirks a brow, "to be honest, i was a little worried it wouldn't do me justice." you roll your eyes in the back of your head, what a guy.

at the prospect of being quite the stunner at taunting or playing with your boyfriend, you breathe out euphorically before speaking again, "the bed is so tiny, how little you were itto!"

"tiny?! it's not tiny!" he stomps forward, "this isn't tiny! or is it?"

was this the beginning of a heated debate? not really, but maybe a little. to elaborate himself further without requiring words, itto was swift and eager to carelessly wind away the dear plushies to awkwardly drop his wholeness onto the frail bed and archons— let it be known that the old woman outside had trouble hearing because those damned squeaking sounds were violent, dropping off the walls with an intensity you haven't heard before.

was itto about to break the bed? no no, you suppose. hopefully not.

"looky looky." he thoughtlessly leans back into the silken cushions but props himself up with his elbows so his pretty view on you would turn out even prettier, "it's large, just like me." — how can this man be for real sometimes, you wonder, snorting out a silly laugh on how impossibly comical he looked right now, with the majority of his legs hanging out of the bed frame.

"it sure does." you feign your engaging sentencing, silently getting close and walking towards him to sit, somewhere— which, uh, wasn't possible because he took the entire space.

literally, how could he not?

so, instead, you had, emphasizing heavily on the 'had', resulted to therefore straddling his hips with your thighs on each side of him. You're leaning forward and to that— your dress instantly responded with unknowingly pining up and revealing more of your smooth legs. Due to this unseen course of events, itto thumbed down entirely, now laying flat with you mounting on top.

the shallow heave that unbuttons from his throat when you declined your head to sweetly plant a semi innocent kiss on his lips, it was overflowing with tension, beyond wishing, so he leaned in— one kiss, two, one more? perhaps a couple.

in a profound refrain, you found yourself relaxed, making out with itto, still largely gentle and shy— if only he wouldn't have began to skim over your body with his hands, up and down in circles, his palms were seizing the movements of you, heatedly glissading over your exposed skin until looming them further back to greedily grab a fistful of your flesh and knead your ass to drag you close.

on purpose or not? but your cunt was now directly brushing on top of his member.

"mmh." you inaudibly whimper into his mouth as you coincidentally rub down on his groin, "ah— i'm sorry." he speaks and unexpectedly drags your pussy over his hidden cock. "fuck-" normally, you're so so careful— fuck, you wouldn't, right? do it on purpose, never.

amusing, you, as a matter of action, did not miss how tensed up itto was, how overwhelmed with the budding pressure in his pants.

how ... he was in his old bedroom, giving his almost painfully growing erection the thing it desired, from you, his cute darling. His breathing had been erratic while his digits further altered your flesh to keep you stilled but surely pressed right on top of his swelling cock.

rationality, here we go, "w-wwwait." his cheeks had a sudden burn with an equal amount of both a higher consciousness of euphoric bliss and clear embarrassment, itto figures that— archons, he might already be done for, the 'little' problem in his pants, how was he supposed to get rid of it before dinner?

"sorry." you cheekily coo and bit your lip back at him, "but you're comfy." cozily wrapping your arms around his neck, maybe another kiss will do it, so you sloppily go down and pull away with a sharp tug on his lower lip. You smile, although sheepish, "we should get up." and whisper the evident.

but unmistakably, if you would've acted out on what you were manifesting, or that you were more than certain you had wholly slicked up your thin panties by now— sensing them stick on your core, you would've blindingly leaned in to whatever you were attempting to do this second.

"wait." oh? this tone was different and you liked it— remembering the cause of it too. Much deeper was the timbre and not in his usual airless color, because itto was dead serious in his shaking utterance, a single word demonstrated a devilish command, "i'm a little—" you follow his eyes with your own and watch the mess in between your sticked together bodies— your dress had been draped up even more and was now pressed up, resting right above the beginning of your ass while itto's pants were extremely tight.

he embarrassingly looks up at you with hesitancy, "oh you know- i think i need a second." and he forcefully exhales his words from his tight chest, "but you are- fantastic." and prolongs his trembling heave right after, "and warm." while he closes his eyes, only a short amount because he had to catch your hips and stop them when you tried to move.

"what are you?!" he groans so loud, too loud— shameless, as you were quick to shush his noisy tongue with your hand clutched around his needy mouth, "shhh, don't talk." you coo, "don't say anything." and he listens carefully, with wide opened eyes, nervously gulping down the assembled saliva, "let me help you out, okay baby?"

finally, fucking finally, he thought, "c-careful." itto mumbles into your hand as you used your other to clumsily open up his pants— pulling down his, with pre cum drowned, boxers, at last freeing his erect cock that was plopping out of the garments.

it's heavy, shading red and the deep blue'ish broad veins on the underside of his girth left nothing left for imagination— your mouth practically watered at the filthy, sinful sight, but it's so tasteful and you wanted to please him right away, maybe suck him off and let him fuck your face, but now— not now, his grandma was literally in the next room and preparing dinner for you, right, almost forgotten!

lets just get this quickly over with and help your handsome boyfriend with his not so little problem— later on there was still additional time, you can always fuck at home, real messy and loud— leaving yourself to him so he was able to pump his seed into you and let it ooze out again.

"ah- baby." his voice sounded impatient and a bit whiny, "it hurts." he grits his teeth and his cheeks burn up, he lifts his hips and softly grinds into you while keeping you down, his face was incredibly red and even the tip of his ears had now visualized the exact same color. There's no way he didn't spend time to think about it too— about the shared fantasy, about pistoling his cock deep into your spongy cunt, it makes him question himself if he can actually pull it off, in this small room with the bed squeaking at every move.

the delirious flutter was risky, but worth it?

"okay, you know what?" he spills out, chasing more relief, "just the tip." he whines, "only the tip, please!" you curiously readjust yourself to rut your cunt on him— on the brink of turning brainless yourself. "you know we wouldn't stop." but the mental image of his tip splitting you roughly had you close your legs around his body, shoving your pussy on his bare cock again.

"but it hurts-" and you shake your head, just wanting to scream that it hurts you too, "i know baby but we can't."

one hundred percent a bad idea— that's what it was in an outer perspective, but how could you ignore his mushroom tip leaving itself get messed up by your arousal— how now, he nudged himself into the flimsy material of your panties to rub his length within your folds, spreading them apart, loving your wet cunt, "five seconds." you can barely hear him say it, "just five seconds." archons, where were the infamous rational thinking skills when you were in dire need of them?

fuck this, rightfully so, "three." now, you start to bargain for the tasteful prize, "four." and itto was determinedly stammering right back at you while his mouth was still covered by your hand. You both cannot believe each other, truly, how desperately needy you were, at this point barely caring anymore when he slowly bumped his drenched cock into your pussy— your underwear by now fully slipped to the side.

"three seconds!" — "oh man .. fine."

you drop your weight before he could finish his words, catching him so off guard was rare in it's own glorious state and you‘re taking his tip further, making the man underneath you deeply groan into your hand. "shut up itto!" you laugh and embarrassingly snort a little, "i'm sorry!" this whole lively situation had a comical sense to it because when else are you fucking your boyfriend in his old bedroom— in a bed that was way too small for any of you, but maybe that's the fun part of being this close together, fusing your skins as one.

you go silent, overwhelmed and shaking, to counter attack your natural body reactions you forcefully bite down on your bottom lip to withstand the upcoming moans, "fuck, fuck!" for comfort, you lean into him as his tip naturally slips in and out of your warm pussy, in and out, in and out, catching a glimpse of his already hooded eyes. "only the tip." you jokingly repeat, "mhm the tip." he moans back into your hand while you felt him drool on you— because there you were flaunting your tits at him, rigidly pressing them into his chest with your pointy nipples finding friction.

itto shuts his eyes on the sprouting frustration closing around his belly, "mhm, i can't believe this." he almost laughs, as if to ease you both down in his own silly ways, "me neither." he further molds his hands over your hips to hold you in a precise way. Truthfully, your trembling thighs were burning and sore, firmly splattered with arousal and exposed to him.

the position you were currently in wasn't kind to you, if anything it was becoming harder to remain focused so you wouldn't end up suckling in more inches without realizing.

you carefully move away your hand and give him enough space to breathe more sizable and damn— the sight in front of you was a fucking longed one, downright unreal, it wasn't able to be somewhat framed or painted into words.

itto whatsoever, his face had spiraled into complete redness, granted, he was trying his utmost finest to be good and not greedy, though the punishing demonstrated fantasy of bulging his cock into your sensitivity was always there— his shaking hands clearly giving it away.

"ah- this is awesome!" itto clears his throat and needfully runs his knuckles over your skin, reaching your behind— two of his fingers ran down to your folds to spread them and leave him with more room to stay inside, "yeah.. this is better." he heaves and you whine because it really does feel better that way— you've been plenty wet by now and if you weren't this patient, you surely would've fucked him into oblivion by now.

you hide your pleased face in his neck, "i can't believe we're doing this." and admit, arching your back a little (for good measure) before slowing one of your hands over his damp forehead where a couple of his hair strands were sticking onto, due to the excessive amount of sweat, "i think I'm dreaming!" though it's stupefying, itto gladly relishes in the smug satisfaction, claiming you one inch further, a bulged type of sweet and honeyed pride was delivered when he let you do it— slurp up one more inch, ambling his hips differently for a finer angle.

you kiss itto's lips to soothe his gravelly groans, in addition to your own squeaky huffed out cries— he's so big and heavy that when you move just a little, it's as if he's strapping you off every single inch of control in your body, as if he's, on purpose, targeting the plushy splotches in your walls.

you grab onto another inch as he passionately groans into your mouth— more please more, bracing yourself, letting his tongue run free into yours, he continues it, pitching his hips further and spreads his thighs to rub you into him while his eyes flicker with lust and so do yours.

you just cannot think straight anymore, it's not possible nor required, you are so fucking fucked right now, both deliriously good and blazingly bad.

itto thinks it still isn't enough, his big cock was tingling in your walls and it should be criminal on how fucking fine your closed insides were, ravenously bordering on him and gripping him— it doesn't even compare to other instances in his life because you both couldn't keep your hands to yourself and wanted to straight up— lose your minds and bodies.

a hiss spills from his throat and it appears like your legs are about to give up on you— your tits too, bounce in tune to your actions and surge eminent bliss into your veins. You find yourself entranced when he crowds you and your toes curl at another easy shove forward.

the painstakingly grab on your hips was to leave bruises, his knuckles turning white and his dick shimmers with your arousal that you sink down further.

you adjust and squeeze around him, bending over when breaking off the kiss, your wet lips twitching in a shameless grin as itto chuckled right under you. The lower side was rammed with your transparent liquids puffing out your pussy— itto's eyes were blown wide and he makes sure to always remember to stretch your ass while you look so adorable above him, creaming on his cock that was now completely clashed into you.

hold on.

what happened to the three stated seconds? or just the tip?

three or none, oh no— not this, please no, archons above please send us mercy because how much fucking time has passed since you started this succulent and mouthwatering gamble?

"fuck— just like that." itto mouths without a single care behind those eyes, "you're the prettiest baby, you know that?" he lifts himself into you and turns the bed into nothing more than a squeaky noisy problem. It could've turned out real embarrassing if not one of you had turned on your hazy braincells.

"itto wait!" you foolishly whine, "shit, too loud!" he bottoms out and smacks his balls into you, remembering the obscene situation as the bed loudly creaked. "shit, shit shit." your mouth clashes onto his with saliva bubbling out of the outer parts of your lips. Yet you don't stop, instead you grind your pretty cunt on him and smear his filth over your soft walls.

"do you think?" you're concerned for the obvious, stilling yourself, "no no, don't worry baby." itto speaks up, "are you sure? we were very loud right now." he captures your body in between his arms to twitch inside your core, you on the other hnd never adjusted to his large dick— you just couldn't stop pulsing on his length, it's swilled with your liquids. "i got you, i'm sure she didn't hear anything."

while you do want to place your greatest trust into him, you weren't stupid, but amidst the sinfulness of it all, you nod your head at him. "we need to finish this quickly." whispering from above, your warm breath fans over his skin.

itto doesn't answer, there was no need for it, not now at least. He reaches up to lift your chin to lead you towards his lips and you cry into the sloppy kiss while his other hand dampened down on your folds, roughly stimulating you with his knuckles. "i- fuck, i-got-you." he finally says in between groans and urges you to continue, "i'll make you cum on me." his words came out in a stitched together grunt.

his mind— it was gone and clouded and another moan leaves him right after at the galvanizing sight of you. Itto braces himself and leads you to heaven, it's overbearing and frustrating, but the new punctuated jolts were closing down on your sensitive cores, they were tempting and pressing on your beating thuds.

all you could think of was for him to please please go faster, but it wasn't possible, not anymore. okay, well, it was but, you would equally be busted and you were sure the embarrassment of being caught by his fucking grandma during the act alone would give you terrible nightmares for years on end.

his knuckles dig into your shining folds and rub you fiercely while taking you with his cock. By how rough itto was fucking you now you had to close your hand around his mouth again so he could freely grunt and moan— vocalize his pleasure to you so you can latch onto him finer, constrict on his shaft and milk him dry until he's wet of a white ring of arousal, the clear determination to finally cum was genuinely all you both could think of.

you cry yourself into his shoulder when he pulls you to him, fisting his palms into your draped up dress to practically rush you back and forward— using you as a fucktoy to drench his cock in. His hips are stuttering and you knew he was close— because in truth, you were too, the continuous intrusion of his sensual tip on your pleased insides felt so fucking fine you thought you were actually going to tear up from it.

it's when it began to burn as he continuously smacked his hips into you, both tightly squished into each others embrace and melting into your bodies. You were drooling on your entire chin and then it happened, bringing you back to the overstimulation which was twice as powerful, twice as deep— pulling out your climax from your strangled rooted core as you violently clenched on his heavy cock, your orgasm thundering over you.

"too much, too much!" you whisper cry on him and itto plants one of his hands on the back of your head to squish you close as he climaxed too, sealing his lips as you pressed your hand into him. "I'm so close— so close so close." his hips were still going but slower, his calloused palm holding you down, guiding you where he required you to release his seed, paint your walls with silken white and calm your inflamed skin.

"fuck!" he moans and his eyes roll back, "inside— im inside you." itto feels empty but fulfilled, the compressed position was in any other occasion insanely unfitting and uncomfortable, but for you there wasn't a better one. His breathing was hot and the entire room smelled of sex and filth, the spilling ropes of cum were seeping right out of you.

the both of you were utterly panting and damn, itto came a lot, cummed as deep as he could and his grunts were still there— low and under the shadowy rasps, leaving it to you to finish him and he relishes in it, entirely, when being milked by a warm cunt such as yours, a claimed one, by him alone.

it's silent before your thoughts come back swirling, heated but never forgotten, you prop yourself with your arms and smile at him, but then it hit you.

"no no." you panic and your eyes glue down on your not so innocent lower region, "we made a mess." he smirks back at you, all puffed out and blowing. "how do we cover that?!"

you lift your hips and are now presented with the post nut problem, vision still glassed up and shaded by how good you were being fucked just moments ago. "wait let me-" itto helps you lay down while he sits up on the bed, his cock limply coated in arousal, "do you need- uh, wait!"

he swiftly searches around the room and finds a towel, hastily handing it to you, "thanks." you shyly mumble, still sore, "how do i look?" you ask him jokingly while fixing your make-up simultaneously to rubbing off the crumbling perspiration on your body.

"like you just had the best orgasm in the world." he sings, putting up his pants while helping you as much as he could. "you're one to talk." you tease, breathless and still hot, pulling down your dress as itto reaches out his arm to you, aiding you to stand up.

a hand falls heavy on his palm and you curse yourself for not figuring out sooner that you were thoroughly sore and done— swelling and used, especially your muscles were burning, searingly aching, "oh— easy now." itto could do this all day, watch you fix yourself after he fucked your brains out— minus the doing it in his old bedroom. His inflated ego breaks records, "are you okay?" but the concern in his voice was sweet, "y-yes."

"lets eat dinner then!" you almost forgot about that.

he rubs his belly and you nod your head in agreement, spouting out a wheezy laugh while you began to fix his hair, "— and hope your grandma didn't hear a thing." and end his sentencing at last.

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embersofhope-if · 1 year

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mc details? 👀👀

omg i cant believe i havent done this yet

now time for mc details😋

Mc's birthday is August 13th

Theyre a Leo😏

Mc looks a lot like their Father but they have their Mothers eyes

When they were fourteen, they managed to sprain their ankle the night before the reaping when they were out with Ash, and it never properly healed

After Ash died Mc spent a lot of nights on top of the belltower in the middle of District 8 instead of their normal spot because it hurt too much to be there without Ash

Mc has top marks in all of their classes☝️

Theres a little cat bed for Hope in their closet but Hope normally just sleeps in Mcs bed

Mc is an enneagram type 4(yes, i did just retake the test for every character, including some of the other tributes. I've got brainrot for my own game, leaving me alone🙄)

Mcs tribute token is a bracelet from their Father (...it may or may be a lily of the valley bracelet)

Mc and their Mother actually used to be pretty close, but when they were about nine, something changed, and they grew distant

the first time Mc went back to the Capitol since Ashs death they were very shocked to find that they somehow have fans

Mc met Snow once, but it was before he was president and incredibly brief

This is less of a detail, but Mc was about 4 when Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes happened, and it absolutely blows my mind

You can pick Mcs' weapon of choice, but i will say they are a natural with a knife, and its kinda scary☝️(a certian district partner finds it attractive, tho😏)

When they were younger, Mc was for sure the kid that always tried to hang out with the adults anytime they were supposed to be playing with other kids

Mc has been drunk before😋

Regardless of whether or not you romance Creon Mc will always keep any letters they've gotten from them

Calliope has a hundred percent found the stash of letters and read through them (mc caught her, and it ended with mc having a black eye, and Calliope got a busted lip)

Mc is naturally a very caring person, but you get to decide whether or not the fully show it

i have no idea why but Mc will forever feel like the moon to me

they cannonically have a gorgeous smile (not sorry about it😋)

Mc also fully believes nobody ever really listens to what they're saying, but it is quite literally the exact opposite. they've just got this energy where you feel compelled to listen to them (they get it from their dad🤞)

you get to pick Mcs main hobby but they also know how to play the paino. it was something their mother taught them when they were young

when mc was ten, they "ran away" but came back a couple hours later because it started to snow, and they literally didn't have a coat. They thought nobody in their family noticed, but Soren had a full force of peacekeepers looking for them while Ione went out herself to look for them. When everyone was back home, they all acted like nothing happened.

Mcs room has one of the best views in the entire District

not a detail, but i know that Sejanus and Mc would've been besties, and nobody can convince me otherwise

#thanks for the ask!#i love ur game btw<3 #roman will be mine idc😋#anyways!#i was going to add more but its 4am and im tired #i know this makes mc seem super preset but i promise theyre not. they've changed since Ashs death and thats where you get to decide how☝️#slightly off topic but Ive decided that Snow became president when he was 29-30 so Mc wouldve been about 16 #so they probably would've met him when they were like 14/15 #omg thats how old he was when mc was born #mc vesper.#ione vesper.#soren vesper.#calliope vesper.#ash fairchild.#creon levesque.#coriolanus snow.#circuit-if #makes mc a leo knowing damn well leos are the actual worst #(im allowed to say that my bestfriend is a leo)

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snapshots-of-the-young-egotist · 1 year

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All of the things + all of the feels

This was I think, one of my favorite birthdays.. but also one of my least favorite birthdays too. My absolutely best gifts, without question were gifts that can't even be seen! (By the ordinary eye) and I've been on the verge of these gifts for so long. Like- can't even tell you how long. Or how much time and effort that went into trying to articulate the energy before me, as if to consolidate its presence-- according to the company I'm keeping- and how the energy flows very freely and cool sometimes.. and other times, how the weighted astral restrictions from the stars refract the essence of our energies and bring forth something concrete ✨Before my birthday, I was suddenly looking at my birth chart. This suddenly caught my attention and I spent some of my free time looking at certain points- although I've always got access to this, I never actually look into things.. because why would I?! Ya know? I don't want to know too much.. and spoil the surprise.. and in some ways I still question some things that bound to happen. So all of the immense stretching and stringing my energy along finally paid off. I woke up on my birthday with this like ability to communicate with the energy in a way that I had not gotten to yet on my journey. So I was already very excited and it wasn't even 8:00 yet! So I kept the idea that with this - I could maybe lean into things a little bit more.. go a little bit deeper than I have so far.. and it's all for a reason. I can grasp at the reason, and muse about certain things; but let's be real. Some things are just too good to be true sometimes. So I meditated and boy did I get more than I bargained for on that meditation. I completely saw something that I expected to be something.. because it felt like absolutely everything. Everything & then some actually.. but as a lot of good things, it came to an end I think during that meditation.. because now I just think it's absolutely nothing, rather than something.

one thing is like the traveling a certain way.. and I know my way, but part of my path is to express myself and like, declare what I want.. almost in a Pam like way when she tells the bartender that she got the wrong beer and she musters the courage to do so and is like so proud of herself.. it's like that energy.. except as Karen put it, "Pam's.. kind of.. a . . B*tch.. " I kind of am traveling the way of asserting myself I guess? Idk I can word this better.. but essentially, my path ties into my new energetic gifts because I found a new way to not only communicate, but also how to articulate the communication. Everything ties together. All directions point back to one. The one. "Never stray from the way." Prior to my birthday, I had bouts of little moments that stirred in my mind.. and then came piping hot, into my reality. .

I guess to explain exactly what's going on, without actually saying exactly what's going on, I'll tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I was in 9th grade and it was the very beginning of the year. I went to my world history class and at the front of the class I found myself at the desk of someone named Cannon. Now, for privacy sake, unlike on TikTok, I will only share that first name here, not his whole name lol. Ah! Getting ahead of myself.. ignore the potential relevance of that TikTok comment. .

as we were: 9th grade and this kid has on a green wristband. I remembered pointing it out and acknowledging it because I did in fact think it was cool. (It was like a 100%cotton wristband and those are so soft!) Well, Cannon thought I was making fun of him at first .. so then, that pointed me in the direction of actually making fun of him.. and one of the things I joke about was how would he ever get a girlfriend if he wore a wristband even though he wasn't an athlete.. and the energy was suddenly different between us. We were in a class with twenty-something other kids who were all having their own loud conversations- but none of it mattered- because suddenly the energy had changed - and the drop in that frequency can be felt- even felt among however many other people occupy the same space - all of the noise is just magically filtered out.. it's like when time stands still almost? So that's when he dropped the ball on me.. which is funnier to me than you the audience because part of our convo entailed basketball.. but once he responded, I remember being different afterwards. Like in a good way. Where, on a higher level, we both did our Soul work and it felt good. He told me he didn't need to be an athlete because he was incredibly smart. I was so blind sided I looked over to the smartest guy I knew at the time. Stuart just shook his head in agreement that Cannon was as smart as he let on. I remember that being so impressive to me. I mean, if you saw him on that day when we were in 9th grade. Messy hair. Sweaty hair at that. Haha this is a good memory. I'm really good a visualizing so a lot is coming as I write this and it's very nice. The point is I had this memory come to me last week sometime. This memory came because out of the blue his name came to mind and I sat with the energy for a minute.. but not too long. Over the weekend, someone I follow on TikTok asks couples on the street of NYC if they are dating. If they are, they share their story. I watch on video and see a guy who looks very close to Marshall in How I met your mother.. and I was just happy to watch the cute video of how they fell in love and what they were most excited about.. at the very end, the host asks their names.. and sure enough, it was Cannon.

Yes I have a joke about how much is happening in my life inwardly + outwardly and how funny Spirit is with their messages.. "Can't interfere.. it's a cannon event."

I have more stories like this..

but the gist is that there is more work to do. I just have to continue to go through the motions. As I was just shown, certain things that seem scary or will be too hard to do, may not be that difficult at all. . And that is exciting.. but I think the number one thing now is to actually set a gym routine that works for me. This energy has to be harnessed or it will just sway away

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Demonic Pregnancy (But It Makes the MC… Problematic)

Okay, so hear me out. I know the prevailing idea is that a human getting pregnant with a supernatural kid would sap their strength and what not… But what if the opposite happened? So basically, getting pregnant by the brothers would make the MC physically stronger, but more susceptible to their sin… Oh this is going to be fun. 😈

Trigger Warning: Pregnancy

Lucifer

First noticed something was up when the MC came into his office to bring him coffee and casually ripped the door of its hinges… with one hand… by the handle…

He didn’t even have time to be mad about it because he was already frantically texting Diavolo and Barbs that there was something very wrong with the human. They’re not supposed to do that.

Meanwhile MC is in the background marveling at the newly freed door in their hand… They hadn’t even thought about it! Is this what having power is like?? Are they actually dangerous now??? Better not let it go to their head…

*it is totally going to go to their head*

Lucifer learns two things pretty quickly, (1) The human is pregnant with his child and (2) They’ve just been given access to a whole lot of power and they’re mind is set on one thing: Domination.

The next nine months for him are spent practically having to leash the MC or else they’ll go out to pick fights with anything that moves to prove their “superiority”… His brothers and even Diavolo included!

It wouldn’t be so bad if their body wasn’t still very human and very breakable… and also they’re PREGNANT, so please STOP!!

This baby, honestly, could not come fast enough… Good thing demons don’t develop grey hairs… Poor guy…

Mammon

Noticed something was up when they were chatting out at RAD and they dodged a stray ball from Beel.

They dodged a ball. From Beel. And he throws at, like, Mach 7 speed… And it didn’t even look hard!

… But being the dumbass that he is, he just thought they had gotten a lot better at their magic. It was Lucifer who saw something wasn’t right when the MC was actually holding their own against Mammon and Beel in a race.

Was thrilled by the news at first but then quickly learned that he must have infected them with Greed somehow…

They wouldn’t stop begging for new stuff! Sometimes for him or the baby, but mostly just whatever struck their fancy the second that they saw it.

He’d try to tell them no but then they’d look all sad or whine about hard it was to be pregnant and how they couldn’t do things like tie their shoes or stand for long periods of time or…

(Never mind the fact that they could bench-press Beel if they wanted to, no no, that didn’t matter.)

His nine months were pretty much spent pandering to Lucifer and Levi for more loans to keep his MC happy… and praying they’d snap out of it after the baby finally came because he CANNOT keep paying for their crap…! 😥

Leviathan

MC and Levi playing games in his room and one of their online matches got particularly heated… The MC may or may not be prone to gamer rage, but that night they got so frustrated that they snapped his controller in half like a toothpick…

They were too busy trying to frantically apologize to take notice of their sheer strength, but HE did. And he was thrilled!!

Like, sure, it sucks that he’d have to buy a new controller but that was So. Cool. Their strength was like something out of a shonen!! He was honestly fanboying too hard to question, “Wait a minute, how did they even get that strong??” The MC later went to Lucifer themselves to get it all got sorted out (really Levi was no help whatsoever) and man was he shocked by the news…

Though he was even more shocked by the sudden spike of jealousy that they seemed to exhibit afterward… Like, extreme “You better not leave my sight” level jealousy… 😣

One the one hand, he’s kind of into it because being alone with the MC is all he’s ever wanted!… but on the other hand, dude really wants some space…

He tolerates the next nine months for three reasons: (1) He does honestly love the MC, (2) Watching them break (other people’s) stuff and fight demons with their bare hands will never stop being cool, and (3) He’s somewhat afraid of what they’d do if he tried to leave so… 😥

Let’s hope the effects are temporary…

Satan

Found out something was wrong when he and the MC went to the park. He saw an old acquaintance of his and left to go say hi but came back to find that the MC had uprooted an entire park bench to squash a nosy lesser demon…

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING, he’d ever read about humans told him that they were capable of that!

Figuring this has some kind of magic origin, he doesn’t bring them to Lucifer but to their resident human sorcerer instead, Solomon…

…and THAT bright idea ended up getting the MC magic tag-along throughout their pregnancy since Solomon wanted to make "a few” observations, the lying bastard… 🙄

Even more unfortunate though, is that the introduction of Wrath into their system also gave the MC an utterly monstrous temper which didn’t help their newfound strength at all…

Poor Satan gets saddled with caring for what amounts to a hair-triggered glass cannon… (though really it’s less protecting them from the world and the world from them 😣).

Needless to say, he’s lost quite a few bookcases over the next several months…

Asmodeus

It was another night with Asmo, so another night out clubbing. He and MC were together for most of the time, but they had left him briefly to get another round of drinks… and somehow got dragging into a straight up brawl in the process.

And they WON…

Asmo brought them right to Lucifer after that. Like, he loves you sweetie, but there were like ten lesser demons there and no way a little human like yourself could pull that off without something being up.

Oh he was overjoyed by the news, but the real test was yet to come… Who would give out first? The Avatar of Lust or a very, very, astronomically horny MC…?

In truth, no one in the House ever wants to talk about what happened for those next nine months ever again… The things they saw… The things they heard… Filthy, filthy things….. 😖

And more broken beds than anyone could care to count…

Let’s just say that they’re all happy the MC was already pregnant, otherwise they’d be dealing with a LOT more demon babies running around… What a hellscape that would be…

Beelzebub

The MC was helping him move some of his weights between rooms. They were only supposed to carry the lighter ones (which really weren’t that light) but they were carrying them so easily that the two got suspicious… They tried to lift one of his heaviest barbells and, to their amazement, they picked it up even easier than he could!

They both just kind of stared at each other for a few seconds before calmly agreeing to go find Lucifer. This probably wasn’t normal…

What pregnancy even was had to be explained to Beel since he doesn’t really understand humans and he only needed one thing confirmed…

So, they’re eating for two now?

And boy did they act like it! The MC’s appetite practically tripled as the months went on and he did his best to keep up for them. He even missed a meal or two for the first time in his life because he was so preoccupied making sure his MC had enough to eat… 😣

Their tastes also got weirder as time went on… At one point they asked for Solomon’s cooking which nearly had him “Nope-ing” out of the relationship right there. He stuck through it to make them happy, but he couldn’t watch them eat it… Even he has his limits, MC… 😟🤢

Wants the baby to come out already if for no other reason than he can finally go back to being the biggest eater of the House again. Having to work around two is a nightmare for everyone…

Belphegor

Would you believe he straight up didn’t know for weeks?

Like, they told him they were pregnant a while ago but all the pregnancy seemed to do was make them really sleepy…

Combine their naps with how often he’s dead to the world and it just never got brought up. 🤷‍♀️

That was until the day it was his turn to vacuum the common room and the MC was resting on the couch…

“MC, can you move? I need to get under there.”

“Hm? Oh, sure. Let me help.”

They then proceeded to get up and lift the couch with one hand like they were Beel or something!

He was, perhaps, slightly miffed that they didn’t think it was necessary to mention they had gotten a butt ton stronger for like a month, but you know…

Belphie has probably the easiest time managing his MC anyway because ALL they want to do is sleep. At most he just has to take on the responsibility to remind them to eat and move around a little.

Lucky bastard always gets off easy… 😖

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #tw: pregnancy

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arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years

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Okay so I have a personal head cannon that demon hunters are a thing in the Obey Me World. So I wondering if you could do the brother and undatables finding out that a bunch on demon hunters kidnapped MC while they were in human world because they found out of MCs packs. Your writing is so good, honestly this is one of my favorite Obry Me accounts.

Thank you! It gives me pride for being one your favourites!

I love expanding the world of obey me and idea of hunters is one that seems realistic in a world of demons and angels and just in general, really interesting. Before I joined writing on Tumblr I was actually a Wattpad author and one my books was about a monster hunter who got in a love square with Frankenstein's monster, Dr Jekyll and Mr hyde

Never finished it but it was fun concept so any type of supernatural hunter already just wins in my department

Do I have a thing for making the demons violent and showing off a more aggressive and bloody side to them? Yes, I really do

Warning: kidnapping, gore-ish, violence, religious themes, angst, guns, mentions of torture, long

Your breathing grew heavier as the crushing feeling on your chest continued to grow, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Begging to be released from its suffocating prison. If it weren't for the lump in your throat you were sure your heart would of leapt out of it.

your feet pounded against the street beneath you; you were running faster than you’ve ever ran before. How did it get to this situation? well, you didn't have time to reminisce but to make a long story short - a group of demon hunters revealed themselves to you and are now chasing you down as you refused to cooperate. they wanted to use you for your pact and you didn’t want to be involved, especially seeing as they were literal demon hunters! they were going to kill your friends!

but sadly, fate was not on your side. your ankle twisted to the side, pain shooting up from your ankle all the way to your knee. rope surrounded you, you thrashed against the net as your body slammed to the floor. The last thing you saw was the hunter tower above you, the butt of their gun coming down on your head.

when you finally woke up you already had a gun back in your face, you tried to escape but you were forced backwards. chains rattling behind you. you looked behind you to see you were chained to a cross, both your wrists and ankles were bound.

Your situation only grew worse when the hunter Infront of you snarled down at you. Demanding you used your pacts, spitting on your face. You thrusted forward, matching their snarl as you bared your teeth at them. Demon mannerisms have rubbed off on you but it wasn't doing you any good. The gun clicked, unlocking off safety mode.

Your heart sunk immediately.

"Use your pact or else."

You could only hear the blood rushing through your ears. Trembling as their finger slowly pressed on the trigger. You knew they were going to kill the brother's if you did but you were terrified that were going kill you. You shook your head, letting it hang low as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You kept refusing to use your pact and summon the seven demons. Every time you refused they'd hurt you; kicking you, slamming the guns butt down on your head, throwing your head back on the cross. You could barely hear what they said, they just kept screaming at you. Calling you filth and a traitor to mankind.

Despite all the pain you were grateful they weren't killing you. You just had to keep pushing your luck. You couldn't summon them no matter how scared you were. You refused. You couldn't do it.

But fortunately, Magic doesn't always act the way you want it to. Your soul - your entire being BEGGED to be saved. You wanted to save yourself, you desperately tried to spark at the chains and remember any spells but your mind was at a blur. nothing was processing.

You cried out when you saw the large magic circle appear on the floor. You tried desperately to close the summoning circle, cursing to yourself. You demanded your magic to listen to you but it wouldn't work. The brothers symbols appearing in each part and soon enough, they appeared in full demon form.

"FIRE-!"

Lucifer:

his wings blocked at the rapid bullets going their way

His whip quick to come out and wrap around a hunters wrists, he twisted his hand around it and pulled the poor hunter towards him

"This isn't very welcoming, now is it? How bold."

the hunter went flying, the brothers dodging in time

Mammon:

He smirked, a bullet between his teeth and more between his fingers

Steam was drifting off them but he just crushed the metal bullets with no other thought

"How nice of ya to give me a gift~! You really know how to make a demon happy."

He spat out the last bullet and it went flying, hitting a hunters eye

Levithan:

The ground shook beneath you, many hunters missing their shot at his brothers

A crab like beast bursted out of the ground, sewer sludge splattering on the floor

It swiped and grabbed at the hunters, screams filling the space, bodies snipped in half in seconds

"You're all worse than Normies! You took the wrong human from the wrong demons!"

he back hand slapped a hunter that approached him, growling

Satan:

He leapt off the crab, grabbing the nearest hunter to him by the head

Their neck snapped to an odd angle and they immediately dropped

"This isn't how I expected to spend my evening but you took my reading partner....you won't receive my mercy."

He shoved his clawed hands through their chests and spines, ripping out the first organ or bone he could grab

He didn't lie, he didn't show an ounce of mercy

Asmodeus:

His wings flapped behind him, he dragged his claws along the backs of the hunters he flew past

Giggling as they screamed in pain

"Aww I'm just flirting, was it really that bad?"

He pouted before swiping at their faces

Shoving another hunter towards his more violent brother

Whilst he had no issue letting himself get wild, he saw how scared you looked

He didn't want to get too dirty or else how could he comfort you?

Beezlebub:

Beel could be ruthless if TRUELY provoked

And hearing your whimpers when he arrived stirred furious anger within him

When he finally saw your beaten state it made him snap

Hungry for blood

Hunters head being crushing with ikr hand

"You don't even look appealing to eat, you're worst than Solomon's cooking."

He took a chunk out of one hunter when they aimed at one of his brother's

Refusing to let his family get hurt

Belphegor:

We all know he's cold blooded

So it was no surprise blood was gushing everywhere

His dream dust filling his area and nightmares surrounded the hunters

"They're mine....and yet you stole them and hurt them, you're disgusting."

hunters would disappear into the mist and not come back out alive

Bodies littering the floor as he swooped through

As soon as things got gory your eyes were sealed shut, trying to shut out the sound of flesh tearing and screams of agony. Whimpering as you thought about the brothers smiling faces, how gentle and soft they usually were. Chanting in your head that they were here to save you, you were safe, they're still them.

You screamed as your body was lifted off the platform you were on, the cross rising. You were now fully crucified; feet slipping as you struggled against the cross. The chains were barely supporting your weight so you just dangled, fear rising in you.

Mammon charged towards you, his brothers continuing to fight against the hunters. He ripped the chains out of the cross, you fell right into his arms, your heart thumping against your chest.

"look at what they did to you....I shouldn't of protected ya, I hope you'll learn to forgive me - they busted you up real bad."

He caressed your cheek; eyes glaring at your busted lip and the many bruises forming on your face. You winced when his hand touched the side of your head, he recoiled feeling something warm on his palm. It was blood. YOUR blood.

He almost broke down right there and then, looking at how hurt you were - he couldn't handle it.

"thanks...that makes me feel so much better." You let out a pained laugh, hoping to make him feel better.

He only frowned more, softly rubbing his thumb on your cheek. It was obvious he was struggling to keep himself calm. You held his hand, showing off your best smile.

"i don't blame any of you, the hunters did this, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

Your sweet moment was ruined when the 6 brothers backed all bumped into the two of you. Forming a protective ring as the hunters surrounded them; it seemed like there was no end.

You raised your shaky hands, magic swirling around your wrists and to your fingertips. You barely had enough strength to put on a little light show but you weren't going to just let the demons defend you without even trying to help.

It your lucky day as suddenly, the hunters hideout doors bursted open. You could barely make out the outside but there was blood coating every wall, steam coming off dead bodies. Soon enough four figures emerged and your heart almost leapt out of your throat.

Lucifer growled as he strangled a hunter, turning his attention to the new comers.

"I'm surprised you came so late, espically with the company with you, my lord."

Diavolo laughed, his hands coming together as his magic flared brightly. Barbatos had his arms behind his back, smiling to all of you.

"Forgive our tardy timing, these hunters are determined."

"don't forget us, though I may of caused us to take our time, it's been so long since I've fought this many people."

Solomon adjusted his sleeves, his many pacts glowing against his skin. Simeon, unlike the others, looked completely untouched by the chaos. Smiling as he kept his hands together.

"I beg for your forgiveness (Y/N), It appears we've angered Lucifer more than the hunters have."

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Time slowed down within the room, only the hunters going still

Their movements frustratingly slow

"I think it's best to clean up this situation whilst you take (Y/N) back, they've seen enough."

He looked at Lucifer, both men nodding

The prince moved freely through the frozen room, eyeing the amount of hunters

Barbatos:

He bowed to the brothers, offering you a comforting smile

"I must agree with my lord, things will get rather unpleasant."

He slowly slipped off his gloves

He approached you, gently handing you his gloves and patted your shaky hands

A silent request to keep them safe for him

Solomon:

The wizard blew the steam off his wand

Smirking as he pointed it towards the magic still present around your wrists

"Isn't it good I came along? You're going to fall sleep if you keep using your powers, little apprentice, let me open a portal for you."

Just as he finished talking he summoned a portal to the devildom

He gave you a small salute

Simeon:

He hastily rushed towards you all

Checking on each brother for any serious harm, thankful they were okay

He turned his attention to you, doing the same

"all is going to be okay, I promise, I'll bring over some desserts when we get back - tell Luke I won't be long, I know he's anxious about your safety."

He walked you to the portal, caressing your hands

You got a gentle push towards the portal

Once you were all through the portal, you completely shattered. Crumbling to the floor as you broke down sobbing. The brothers tried to approach you again but your nostrils flared, face scrunching up in disgust. They reeked of blood and guts.

Beels mouth was covered in blood, flesh between his fangs. Levithans hands trembling from adrenaline red and stained with blood. Belphegor was showered in the red liquid, a feral look still in his eye. Mammon was the most clean out of all of them but he had blood dripping down him. Asmodeus had flesh on his nails and blood on his cheek. Satan looked just as drenched as belphegor, his shoulders shaking with anger. And finally, Lucifer was the second cleanist but he still was no better than the others.

"i need time to- time to calm down....just.... please just wash."

They all accepted your wishes, hesitant but they understood your predicament.

You laid on the floor, chains still on your wrists and ankles. They felt so tight on your limbs, you whimpered as they scratched at your skin. It took one small burst of magic to make them drop; you were finally free.

You continued to just lay on the floor, shakily grabbing a nearby pillow. Inhaling the sweet comforting scent, letting it fill your scenes. Everytime you even smelled a faint swift of the gore-ish scene from before you just took in another deep inhale.

You laid there for what felt like hours. Silently crying as you hugged the pillow.

You grounding yourself. Reminding yourself you were safe and back in your room. The brothers were safe and they weren't mindless beasts.

You rolled on your side, something poking your hip. It was your phone. You pulled it out from your pocket and began to type, messaging Luke that Simeon was okay aswell as you, apologizing for not seeing him in person. You sent him a quick selfie of you smuggled into your pillow and tried to look somewhat happy. Hoping it'll comfort him.

It wasn't a moment later until you heard a knock at your door. You questioned who it was.

"we're all clean now, meet us in the living room if you want....I made your favourite drink~" Asmo's voice was soft, gentle on your ringing ears.

A small smile appeared on your face. Shuffling out of your room still hugging your pillow, trailing after the lustful demon. Soon enough, you were both entering the living room.

The room was dim, the fireplace being it's only lighting and warming the room up nicely. There must of been something with the wood as it smelled so comforting. The brothers all sat along the sofa, Some on the floor. Everyone had their own drink, blankets and pillows surrounding them.

You curled up in the middle of the sofa, letting yourself be engulfed in multiple hugs. Everyone touching you in some way and you all just sat there. In peaceful silence as you just hugged.

You really needed this....

"thank you for saving me."

"We'll always save you"

"you can always count on us-!"

"I won't let this happen to you again, I promise to protect you better."

"no one is allowed to touch you like that, I won't let them."

"You don't need to thank us, darling."

"I will always make sure you're safe, no Matter what."

"I won't fail you again."

you all hugged each other even tighter, embracing each others comfort and warmth. Tears falling and soothing words shared, each brother did their best to be strong. But even they couldn't stop themselves from shedding tears when the adrenaline died.

They almost lost you. You were kidnapped and hurt because of your connection to them. They were never going to let you get harmed again, no matter the cost.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me imagine #obey me headcanon #obey me x reader #angst

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

#whumptober 2021 #linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes angst #idiot writes whump #lu wild #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #sky is scary when he's mad #wild whump #botw2 #botw2 theories #mean flora #flora bashing #zelda botw bashing #I ACUALLY LOVE FLORE PLS DON'T HATE ME!!!!#father time

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zombieheroine · 3 years

Text

Domestic Enemy

Pairing: MegOp Rating: G Word count: 2486

MegOP week prompt: Domestic * Optimus came to slowly. He had a vague recollection that he had been hit by something heavy, and as he regained consciousness he realized he was lying under some support beams in a half collapsed hallway. Little by little, it came back to him. A battle in a nebula, an old Cybertronian outpost in an asteroid field. Energon storages and a race for them against the Decepticons, who had the disadvantage of not having and up-to-date map but the advantage of natural scouts and experienced miners.

Structures built inside asteroids, metal merged into rock, and a network of bridges and flight paths between asteroids. Megatron. Optimus blinked and stared up to the half-collapsed ceiling. He wasn’t sure which one of them had made the mistake, but they had focused on each other and engaged in their own private battle so deeply they had gotten separated from the others. It had been Megatron’s fusion cannon that had brought the eons old tunnel down on them, but privately Optimus cursed his own foolishness just as much. It seemed that no matter how many times he repeated to himself that he shouldn’t lose focus in combat and be lured to Megatron alone, it still happened again and again. It had happened again, and now he was stuck alone in an ancient tunnel, laying over some rusted railway tracks that had once been used to transport minerals from the asteroid mines, and so far removed from his troops that he couldn’t even hear them anymore. But mulling over his past mistakes never helped, especially not when he had more pressing matters in the present. Optimus regarded the position he was in. There were some rocks on him and around him, but mostly he was pressed down by a large support beam that had been half torn, half melted off the ceiling. He cycled air through his vents for a few moments before wrestling his arms underneath the beam, then decisively pressed it up and off his chassis. It took him a serious, concentrated effort, but eventually the metal groaned and gave way, bending off his chassis, and letting him out of the trap. But as he rolled away, Optimus realized he was far from freedom. The tunnel around him was still unstable and he was technically buried in there, but getting to move was a good first step. Very carefully he pushed his way past piles of rocks and tried his best not to make his situation worse, and so he crawled through the tunnel towards the way he had been going for. The Autobots had had a few old maps about the mining colony, so Optimus knew the tunnel would eventually lead into a larger hall where freshly mined energon would be loaded for transport, but just knowing where he was going didn’t solve all of his problems. Megatron was still somewhere close by. There was a possibility that he could have died when the tunnel collapsed, but Optimus knew he wasn’t that lucky. After what felt like eternity crawling under rocks and boulders and dust filling his vents, Optimus finally made it into a room. It was a mid-sized loading station, the tracks ending at stoppers and large loading patches. There wasn’t that much in the room otherwise, simply loading stations, repair stations and a small break area, and – “Well look who made it after all,” Megatron grunted with a roll of his optics. “I expected nothing less of my luck.” For a moment Optimus was ready to fight, but Megatron didn’t seem to want to. He was seated against the wall at the break area, and just like Optimus covered in dust and dents, but also clutching his arm to his side. He didn’t seem too interested in continuing their rumble, so Optimus didn’t fire up his blasters, simply pulled himself back up to his pedes. “I could say the same to you,” he said, puffing air through his vents in an attempt to clear them. It felt like there was a persistent layer caked on the metal, and it didn’t come loose no matter how he puffed. He didn’t try too hard. It was dangerous to show any weakness in front of Megatron, even though right now he didn’t want to fight. It might change if he re-evaluated the situation and decided for example to use Optimus’ compromised cooling system against him. Optimus stayed well away from Megatron, sticking to the other side of the room. He took a look around in the room, searching for a way out while subtly using his comm system to call out to his troops. “Go ahead and call your pitiful little followers,” Megatron called from his spot. “No reason to be shy about it. I already called mine.” “I’m not shy,” Optimus scoffed, but he let his arm hang more freely by his side as he

clicked the cover plate over the comm system shut as if he had never tried to hide it in the first place. “Sure,” Megaton replied with a roll of his optics. “Whatever you say.” “What happened to you anyway?” Optimus demanded while measuring the Decepticon leader with his optics. With all his heavy armour and weaponry he was now sitting down on the floor, a position Optimus wasn’t sure he had ever seen him before, covered in a heavy layer of dust and dirt and splattered energon, his arm limp in his lap. Megatron’s expression didn’t even twitch when he replied through his sharp dentae: “Nothing. I’m fine.” His spinal strut was straight where he sat as he was there out of pure will of his own. To Optimus’ curious gaze he looked like a miner fresh out of a disastrous accident, and he wondered if this was more like Megatron’s original form he had only ever talked about and never shown. “No, you’re not. I can see that you’re hurt. Do you need help?” Optimus insisted, his gaze focused on the way Megatron’s powerful arm hung limp in his hold, the blaster cannon dark, and dust and dirt caked on it in dark clumps that must have been due to spilled energon. “No. Mind your own business!” Megatron snarled with bared dentae, but clutched his arms tighter, the limp movement highlighting how it couldn’t move on its own. The image of a wounded miner crouched on a floor made Optimus feel a pang of guilt over his previous failure over reforming Cybertron, partially in ways Megatron had held him up to, but the snarl and the personal wound from stellar cycles ago kept his mind cleared and irritation as the most seminal emotion he felt. “You started it!” he snapped back, perhaps giving away more personal investment that was proper for them, and Megatron responded with a disgruntled frown. “Don’t nag me,” he said in a put-upon huff once again rolling his helm like it was all a big, unimportant bother to him. “I am not nagging!” Optimus snapped, more slighted than he ought to be and more out of control than he usually allowed himself to come across. A moment of silence followed with Megatron seated where he was, gaze focused well past Optimus, and Optimus defiantly refusing any care or worry for his enemy, yet venting heavily and leaned forward in focused concern. It took a moment for Optimus to gather himself. He was a Prime now, there was no individual and no personal agenda, only principle, and that was what he focused on. He calmed himself, took a step back and lowered him voice. “Do you need help?” he offered in a voice full of his newly found confidence. Megatron barely spared him a glance of his narrowed optics, the red glow of them mean and uncaring. “No.” Optimus rolled his optics. It had been a formal question with the positive answer clearly within reach, and Megatron must have well known it, yet he still lied and refused. Optimus couldn’t care for the game anymore, so he cut simply to the core of the matter: “You need help. Let me.” Finally Megatron turned his gaze back to him, now baring his dentae at him in an open snarl and angrily demanded: “Why would you even do that? We are enemies, get that through your thick helm already, Optimus Prime!” All the anger and bitterness flew past Optimus. He had come to expect that, and now that he got more of that sour anger he felt barely anything. He simply sighed and stepped closer: “Just show me your arm already.” It was that push that was all that it took. Optimus stepped closer across the floor, and Megatron didn’t say anything more, simply watched him approach without mocking. He didn’t cover or dodge, and Optimus expected nothing like that of him, but he was still glad he was allowed to approach. It was a slow dance. Even though Megatron was wounded, he was still extremely dangerous as Optimus had witnessed multiple times himself, and just because he had his own stubborn idea about helping him didn’t mean he was ignoring everything he knew about his enemy and just barging in on danger. But nothing happened. Optimus approached, Megatron stayed

where he was, and finally Optimus managed to crouch down next to him on the floor. Just taking a look that close up made it clear that there was nothing seriously wrong with Megatron’s arm, it was simply dislocated, and Optimus knew how to hep him. It was reaching out and touching a wounded gladiator that was the problem, and Optimus bided his time well. “I’m going to set it back into its socket,” he declared, servos hovering over the wounded warlord’s limp arm. “It will probably hurt, but I’ll be quick.” Megatron didn’t reply and opted to look the other way, and Optimus took that as a sign to go ahead and do his thing. He grabbed a firm hold of Megatron’s forearm and with his other servo on the shoulder guard, then in one powerful move yanked them both in different direction while keeping them in firmly same level. Megaron didn’t even make a sound, just clenched his dentae and offlined his optics, until the mechanism locked down in its proper place. When there was a sharp snap of a joint in its socket, and he released the air he had been holding in a controlled exvent. With the joint in place, Megatron flexed and moved his arm. First the digits clutched together, then the whole arm rose from its delicate cradle, and he stretched it out and rolled the joint over a few times in gentle movement. Optimus saw his enemy regaining his senses and power, so he took a few careful steps back from him, even when Megatron remained seated. After a few stretches, Megaton gave him a hostile yet dry look, and muttered: “I hate when you do that.” Optimus quirked his optic ridges in disbelief and crossed his arms. He might have been disapproving, but he wasn’t surprised. “What, help you? I though you would be glad to take advantage whenever you could.” “Not when you act like you care about me like you used to,” Megatron growled, the earlier bitterness gaining more and more foothold in his tone. He didn’t sound smooth and aloof like when he taunted him, or enraged like he often did on battlefield. This bitter tone was mostly foreign on him, but also more close to the way Optimus thought about Megatron inside the privacy of his own mind. He tightened the lock of his arms in front of him. Optimus gave Megatron a flat stare and considered the words. It was yet another cruelly clear window to the way Megatron viewed the world: it was full of deceit and pretence, a world where no one did anything out of pure kindness or care but simply in order to take advantage. In his world there was nothing more expect abusers and victims, those stronger and cleverer than others and those left trampled under their pedes. Every time they had a chance to discuss anything personal, Optimus was bitterly remained that to Megatron he had always been only something to fool and use, not anything to appreciate or open up to. He scoffed, once again detaching himself and raising above all worldly grievances and burdens. “Think of this whatever you will. It has become very clear of late to me that you wouldn’t understand it.” Megatron was silent. He was silent for a long while in that thoughtful, genuine way that he often had been in a way Optimus had never heard from anyone mighty or powerful. Megatron’s silence was the type that opened up to the other and considered them seriously. Ironically it was on moments that he was silent that Optimus was transferred back to times when he had desperately voiced an opinion or a view of his own, something vulnerable and new and deeply personal, and then had it faced with this silence. It had always felt like he had gotten through to Megatron, like he was really listening and letting his voice in. Shockingly, it was like that now, in this foreign, long since abandoned mining colony at the end of a collapsed mining tunnel that Optimus felt it again. For a split of a klik he was hopeful. He felt heard and seen, his sentiment sinking into his counterpart, opening up something new and beyond imagining. Hope soared and got the better of him, just for a klik. Then Megatron closed off again, his

expression souring and helm tilting back against the wall behind him, his healthy servo absentmindedly rubbing over his set arm. His gaze slipped past Optimus again, indifferent and cold, and his upper lipplate revealed a part of his dentae as it drew back. “Our troops will come for us soon. This will be over then,” he remarked in a deep, dark voice without looking at Optimus. Hope slipped and shattered for the hundredth time in Optimus. “I am aware, and I accept it,” he replied, quietly doubting his earlier sentiment. He never knew what to make of these passing moments of connection and understanding. They were too sudden to be deception or imagined, but consistently they shattered and vanished, so they weren’t too real either. Glimpses of what once where, he supposed. Glimpses of something overdue and impossible. Optimus walked back across the room and wondered if Megatron even knew what his most devastating weapon against him in this war even was. He might have not, since after all he didn’t seem to appreciate finer things or matters of the spark that much at all. It was all the same to him, and he let them slip by him as if he was certain there was plenty of more of them to come. Optimus couldn't say for certain that he was wrong.

#megop #megop week 2021 #maccadam #tfp #transformers #kapteenin raapustus

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Recently found your blog and I absolutely love your writing!! Could I request head cannons of the brothers reacting to an MC who suddenly cries in front of them but is over it in a minute and acts as if nothing happened?

Thank you for your request, and I’m so flattered you like my writing!

So...I’ll admit got a little carried away with Lucifer’s part, and I always do my best to try to make each brother’s part of somewhat equal length, but if I did that...there would be about 21 pages of words in one post, so, to make it easier for me to post and everyone to read, I will be doing your request in parts. I hope that’s okay!

Part 2 (Mammon) Part 3 (Levi)

The Demons Inside- Part 1

Word Count: 2070

He had requested MC’s presence in his study while he finished up his work for the night. The day had been particularly tedious, and while he wouldn’t mention it offhand, their presence calmed him and motivated him to always be at the peak of his performance.

MC happily came down to give him some support, a sweet smile on their face, dressed up in comfortable clothes, ready for bed. Their eyes were bright as they talked about their day and gave him praise as well as compliments to drive him towards his lofty goal. He took them gladly, although he wouldn’t say it. But despite the attention, these last few worksheets and reports were giving him a migraine. So, he kindly asked if MC could bring him one of his special bottles of Demonus.

MC didn’t quite approve of him drinking to help his problems, but he tended to be aware of how much he was taking. As long as he was responsible--which he always was--MC didn’t mind. They got up from their chair, one of the luxurious red ones in the middle of the room. They chose the seat closest to where Lucifer’s desk was, but they didn’t dare move it any closer, he liked to have everything neatly in its place after all. Like his furniture, all his bottles and glasses were neatly organized, each one sleek and pristine, much like the demon himself.

“Which one would you like?” They asked him, scouring the many labels, many of them written in a language MC couldn’t even begin to identify.

Lucifer sat hunched over his desk, so focused on his report that he almost missed MC’s query. “Whatever catches your eye, I’m not going to be picky about it tonight.” He bit his lip and almost cursed as he made a small mistake on his report. He questioned why he always wrote in pen, fixing mistakes in ink was such a hassle. “But make it quick,” he grumbled.

He wasn’t ready for the sound of shattering glass, almost jumping in his seat. He immediately straightened, his instinct ready to yell and scold whoever dared to be so careless. The name ‘Mammon’ almost formed on his lips, but then he affixed his gaze to his invited company. MC had accidentally lost their grip on the bottle, shards and alcohol scattered on the floor. One look at their face showed silent tears flowing down their cheeks, unable to peel their eyes away from the ground where the mess pooled around their feet.

He had never really seen them cry before, they had always kept their guard up, refusing to show signs of vulnerability. He had thought it was an endearing trait, one he often had himself. So, having them cry before him now filled him with panic. He was worried their sudden emotion was due to the fact that they were hurt. After all, they weren’t wearing any shoes at this hour, what if they had been pierced with the glass?

He rushed to his feet, sweeping them up into his arms, placing them in a chair away from the hazard. Tears still fell from their eyes, and now MC covered up their face with their hands to cover their small sobs. He got on one knee and quickly checked their feet and legs for any signs of cuts, not having the heart tonight to tell them how klutzy they were.

There were no apparent signs of injury, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. When he looked back up at MC, ready to comfort and calm them, they now appeared fine. Their eyes were dry, albeit a bit red, and they gently shooed Lucifer away from their body.

“I’m so so sorry, it was a complete accident.” MC refused to look into his eyes.

He got back onto his own two feet, lips pursed together in a thin line of worry. He was aware it was an accident, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why MC would cry over something like that. Perhaps, they were scared of getting yelled by him? Or was there something deeper, the accident causing their emotional wall to crack poetically alongside the glass bottle. He opened his mouth to address the issue, but barely managed to let a syllable out before MC interrupted him.

“I’ll go get something to clean it up,” they assured him, preparing to make a run for it. He hesitated for a moment too long, his mind running on fumes from being overworked. His reactions dulled, distracted by the lingering pain in his chest as the image of MC’s tears refused to leave his eyes. By the time he called out their name, they were already gone.

He sighed, almost falling into the chair he had placed MC in, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “This human…” He sighed. He tilted his head back, his eyelids shutting. The heaviness of them refused to open back up till he heard the sound of glass pieces clinking together as they collided and scraped across his polished floor.

He raised himself out of his seat, his body groaning, gravity working against him as his very being ached to continue resting. But he couldn’t just idly stand by as MC swept up the glass by themselves. He only needed to take a few long steps over to them, grabbing the broom handle with one hand. It wouldn’t budge in his tight grip.

“MC, allow me, with all the glass around I fear for your safety. You forgot to bring proper footwear.” Both he and MC glanced down at their bare feet. MC worked on tugging the broom back to their possession.

“No- I mean thank you, but, it’s my mess, I need to clean it up regardless.”

“MC-”

“Please!” Their loud tone stunned him. It was a plea of desperation, their voice cracking. His hold on the item loosened, and they tore the broom away from him without giving him the opportunity to fully let go. They immediately went back to work, brushing shards across the floor as they glinted, the light from the fireplace shining off of them. He was again reminded of their shimmering tears, but the expression of budding despair had left MC’s face a while ago. Now they just appeared as exhausted as he was.

“Very well…” He couldn’t afford to spend the last of his energy pushing them any longer. Sitting back behind his desk, Lucifer forced himself to finish the last of his work. More often than not, he kept looking back up at MC. Their eyelids were low over their eyes as they focused on clearing away the mess. Never once did they look back at him. Their usual smiling mouth now waned. He watched them sweep away the big chunks of glass into a pan, pulling out a clean rag as they got to their hands and knees to wipe away the excess liquid. “MC?” The sound of his own voice almost sounded distant to him.

“Hm?” They hummed, turning more in his direction but keeping their gaze from him.

“Has anything been bothering you as of late?” He rested his chin in his hand as he leaned forward, his arm crooked on the surface of his desk. They turned their head away from him, resuming the cleaning. Their nose crinkled a little as the strong scent of his Demonus filled their nose.

“No, I’ve been fine.”

“And the crying earlier?” He found himself asking, unable to ease his own worries. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” He found MC staring at the soaked rag, losing themselves in the sight of it. But it wasn’t the fabric they were paying attention to.

“It was nothing.” They had said it so quietly, he almost didn’t hear their answer. Lying always rubbed him the wrong way, it always insulted him. Yet, this lie didn’t quite seem to be directed towards him, he was getting the impression that they were mostly trying to lie to themselves. As if to further encourage this idea of his, MC repeated themselves. “It was nothing…”

Lucifer examined the last of his work. There was still a bit left to finish, and he couldn’t remember the last time he brushed off his duties, no matter how minimal. Tonight, just for tonight, he thought. Maybe it would be alright. The papers on his desk he put aside, at the same time MC disposed of the trash, the floor as pristine as it had been a few moments before.

“It is one of my duties as a member of the student council to make sure your needs are met.” He wasn’t wrong, this was true. It was a known job of everyone looking after MC to make sure their stay was as comfortable as possible. It would reflect positively towards the program. MC had heard the line before, and while he truly meant it, the words almost sounded empty to their ears. Lucifer had to swallow some of his pride, it tasted like his own personal poison. “So, you can talk to me about anything. I am...here for you.”

For the first time since they descended down here, Lucifer finally got a glimpse of their protective walls falling completely. Their eyes threatened to start crying again, but Lucifer saw as their throat strained to push it back.

“That’s part of the problem,” they croaked.

He blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the answer. “P-pardon?” He was unaware his support and protection could be undesirable.

“You and everyone else is always there for me, always strong, always helping me. And-” Their voice broke again as a single tear broke free from the struggle and rolled down their cheek. They only blinked once and he was right in front of them. The papers on his desk rustled and fluttered from the speed of his movement. His hand raised from his side for a second only to lower in disappointment as MC brushed their own tear away. “And I hate being a--being a burden. A weak and powerless human.”

His mouth parted, open in mild shock as he processed slowly the words they were telling him. “MC…”

“How...how am I supposed to make you proud when I can’t even hold a bottle correctly?” With the last words, the dam conjured of pure will that had been holding the river of tears at bay, broke, and once more they were crying in front of him.

No more hesitation, no more prideful priorities, he held MC’s face with both hands, guiding them close to his body as he gave them a hug. They felt so small in his arms. He almost let out a laugh, but kept it to just a puff in his chest. He had no idea that the reason why they were so flustered was because their pride was wounded. He should’ve been one to know. He would’ve been upset too were he to be in their shoes.

He found himself stroking their head, enveloping them in his embrace as he looked absentmindedly at the clean spot where all this had started in the first place. How much longer would MC have kept this from him had they not accidentally lost their grip? How much longer would he have unknowingly put pressure on their shoulders?

“I am proud,” he told them, and MC’s shuddering shoulders started to halt. “Proud of your strength. Proud of your patience to deal with my...eccentric siblings. Proud of your stubbornness...even if it does sometimes drive me mad.” He swore he almost felt them laugh against his body, it brought a small smile to his face that he was thankful MC couldn't see. “You are not a burden,” he assured them sternly. “There are things that, even without magic, you’ve been able to accomplish where no other living being has.” He took them by the shoulders and moved them back so he could look at their face. “Be prideful of the things you’ve done, of the person you are. And if you cannot…” He lifted their chin with one hand, and then pressed his lips to their forehead. His lips were warm, almost even warmer than the words that spilled from them. It left MC’s mind fluttering. They couldn’t remember why they thought he was ever so cold. He parted from them, but the touch from his lips still felt like it lingered. “At least know I forever will be.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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squeiky · 4 years

Text

!!!List of papyrus things!!!

(Update 3! mini update.)

For anyone who needs more info on the guy! Since you usually dont see alot of info about him!

A list of stuff thats just papyrus's tid bits i've collected overtime!

(Disclaimer: some things can be taken off of memory, though I did search most of the stuff up, so you dont have to worry too much. But if your feeling unsure, search it up! And correct me while your at it.)

his room doesn't play/have music.

(If you have reunited playing at enter his room, it'll disappear forever. Untill you go back and let it play again. Even without reunited, a song that plays no matter what room your in, doesn't play any music.)

Never takes off his battle body.

(According to sans, he only takes it off if he has no other choice too. Otherwise he'll just put clothes ontop of it, or just repaints it if needed. He does how ever, change his pants but never takes off the top.)

the minute "royal gaurd " is out of the picture, he's got nothing.

(It was the one thing he worked up for. When the royal gaurd disbands He says he "working hard on doing absolutely nothing". Then again this can be interpreted as papyrus does say he is working on something, despite not being a royal gaurd yet.)

He lies. (And can manipulate)

(Though he is really bad at lying, he seems to manipulate just fine, though its usually not out of malice. He gets undyne to befreind you by mentioning "challenge", which is a weakness of hers, since she never can turn down a challenge. And has lied about floweys name to her to. Has lied to sans or atleast mislead him about the things he knows about. Pretended he didn't know what a lab was during a call in hotland, but if you call him when sans isn't there, papyrus mentions the lab as if it was common knowledge instead of saying "Labrador-y?" As if he had no idea.)

Changes up his attacks

( if you get captured a few times, you see variation in his attacks. If you do it right, you can get him too skip half of his entire attack.)

Calls his own puzzles "Awful"

(This happens after battling papyrus, he says "WHO KNEW THAT ALL I NEEDED TO MAKE PALS... WAS TO GIVE PEOPLE AWFUL PUZZLES AND THEN FIGHT THEM??" This could be interpreted in many ways.)

Spikes, fire, traps, fencless bridges: are all safe for children, according to papyrus.

("EACH AREA HAS TO HAVE A PRECARIOUS BRIDGE" -bridge likely to collapse, dangerous. "ITS MANDATED BY THE GOVERNMENT. OF COURSE KING FLUFFYBOY WANTS TO UNMANDATE IT SAFER." "WHY?! WONT HE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!)

Has "talked" with asgore before.

(Sadly, asgore and papyrus has crossed paths. Asgore advises him not to but dangerous puzzles around town, for the children. Papyrus wants to put dangerous puzzles around town, for the children. This results in them bickering over saftey laws, with papyrus usually winning.)

Tried to start a flowey fan club

(On multiple occasions calls flowey "his best freind" and shows genuine love for the little guy. He even gave flowey a little red scarf to match his, during the 5th anniversary winter alarm clock.)

Has photo-graphic memory for phone calls.

-call in the room where undyne chased you. He seems nervous, or atleast stressed out during this call. I'll leave any and all interpretation to you.)

(Ps: papyrus has bad memory, but good photographic memory?)

His disliking for grease

(Says this during a call with undyne in grillby's place. Undyne says she loves grease, and he quickly dismisses his opinion in favor of hers. Of course, papyrus HAS visited grillbys before, as the dogamy and doggeressa mention him with sans. )

Calls alphys "great"

(During the first tile puzzle, he praises alphys by calling her "THE GREAT DR. ALPHYS" )

Knows about undynes crush on alphus

(He teases undyne a few times on this, leading to the "hot voice" and "audible wink" papyrus lines. He's not oblivious to the things around him, unless he chooses to be.)

Put limes in his eyes!

(Conversation in hotland! The guy thought limes where cucumbers and stuck them in his eyes. When. He thought it wasn't working he put more limes. It burned like hell but he says it was all to have "mettaton's bishoning eyes")

Knows about mtt's eyes

(Nobody seems to know that mettaton has eyes?! Undyne confirms this fact. Papyrus is the only one who outright mentions it.)

He got mettaton to do the tile puzzle thing

(FOR SOME UNEXPLAINED REASON- mettaton was the tile puzzle robot alphys built. The puzzle robot papyrus had during his own tile puzzle. Infact, during mettaton's tile puzzle in hotland, he says that you'd is this a few hundred rooms ago. If you call papyrus, he starts rambling on all the instructions again. Hehe.)

he likes dinosaur oatmeal

(According to the undertale tumblr, flowey response to "whats papyrus's favorite food?" Is DINOSAUR OATMEAL!! YAY!)

really enjoys mtt's show and mtt in general.

(and mtt even helped him with a tile puzzle)

enjoys cars

Owns a car bed

(Want to drive one)

really freaking artistic!

(Paints a whole bridge, makes a snowpapyrus, made his own costume/battle body, built a okay replica of a sentry station)

The red book on the table in the skelebro's house is infact his!

(For specifics, the quantum mechanics book with infinite books inside of it. It isn't specified who reads it, but both brothers should be capable as jokes and puns are not out of papyrus wardrobe.)

has his own shed and tools.

(Also known as "the punishment shed, doghouse, cpature zone, guest room, a garage" or undyne's pun which was "the coolshed". Ah, to be enriched by shed puns... Wonderful.)

tried to learn the "horoscope"

(Got "stumped" according to sans)

thinks junior jumble is harder than crossword

wants a 6 pairs of hot pants and 6 pairs of legs to wear those pants

has a dream of owning a shop where he just sells flames

(Call near in waterfall, near the turtle man shop.)

He's very influential

(If he's the only one killed in a neutral run, even without undyne, a revolution will still occur. Look into it yourself if need be.)

Called himself a genius

(During the instance, where he talks to you after turning the light on in sans's room.)

Can't really tell when someones mad

(He couldn't tell when undyne was mad at him during a call. He asks us too.)

Doesn't watch anime.

(He thinks its like cartoons for babies. Jokes around with undyne for awhile before taking it all back once he knew she watched anime.-during one of the calls.)

Brutal kind of guy

(He says this himself, i don't exactly know WHY he thinks this of himself, but he does.)

Bookworm

Owns a bookshelf

(He has a book Its where his vast dictionary comes from.

Knows about the time and space manipulation tactics sans uses.

(HE KNOWS- HE MENTIONS IT WHEN HE TURNS ON THE LIGHT IN SANS'S ROOM!!)

believes you can be a better person, if you just try.

(And he's right. Even if you kill him he still believes this, beacuse well.. Its true. Undyne wont forgive you and try to kill you, sans won't fight you, bht he's still right either way)

Knows about river person

(He asks about how river person is doing. No body seems to know about river person, and its unsure if undyne knows about their prescence.)

The days in his date scene (Monday, Tuesday, weekday, Thursday,e.c.t ) changes depending on your computer. Even though the date in undertale is always Monday.

(River person has a scheduled thing that matches up to your computer date as well, but this is about papyrus, not river person.)

Weird abilities

(Flying and super speedy twirling, flying backwards. He doesn't even hide it.)

He's pretty freaking tough!

(According to undyne, the person who defeated asgore.)

His "absolutely normal attack" is a giant cluster of bones.

(In theory, his attack could be the size of the entire area, including the giant bone at the end.)

Papyrus can lower the giant bone at the end of his "absolutely normal attack"

Has Collection of bones (or was planning to make one.)

(The room behind the sink was made for.. His attacks/bones. Before toby(dog)came in and made a shrine instead.)

Is annoying dog's favorite target.

Has a cannon, spears, fire thingy, and a dog at his disposal.

(Displayed during the bridge scene)

One persistent dude.

Likes to say "NYEHEHE!"

Has alot of MTT items.

Owns makeup!

(Mtt brand of course!)

Never dated anyone before.

(He says it himself.)

owns a dating manual

Not much of a sleeper.

(To the point where he just calls sleeping "naps" which aren't that long. He outright says he's always working, so he doesn't sleep.)

Dislikes hotland

dislikes hotland x2

Dislikes hotlands puzzles

Dislikes hotlands ethics.

Doesnt know much about hotland

(Says he knows it like the back of his hand!)

Says he never taken off his gloves, so he has no idea how his hands look like.

(He wears gloves or mittens on top of his gloves. And refuses to take it off, like his "battle body")

Calls hotland's steam puzzles garbage.

Dislikes hotlands conveyors

Thinks L1 and R2 stand for left and right

( Of course, it takes him awhile. He starts making puns, and tries to compare the words to pasta, and THEN comes to the conclusion that its left and right. Its Trail and error.-)

Knows about death.

(Said he wanted to meet death one time during a waterfall call.)

He pauses when speaking as a lost soul.

("I MUST CAPTURE A HUMAN! THEN EVERYONE WILL. ...." This is unusual as he is the only one that pauses. This can be interpreted, but it is rather interesting nonetheless)

Alright this is a bit more interpretive. Things may not be 100% facts down here.

Disclaimer: i will be putting "Interpretive" in red coloring for things that have may my interpretation or opinions in! Please do be mindful in your search, and take it with a grain of salt. It doesn't make it comepelty wrong, it has facts! Just muddled with oppinions.

Ready?

self-worth problems.

( can be called interpretive: He always feels very unimportant, as if he doesn't actually matter. During a call in waterfall, with the puddle hallway, papyrus talks about not letting it "get to you" or something along the lines of that. Since undyne speaks from her experience with the puddles, then i'd assume papyrus would too.)

(I think its just a sign of self doubt or insecurity. Someone once said its dysphoria, which is a cool headcannon for paps or something. What ever it is, he has some demons that he doesn't want to let out.)

Forgetable.

( according to the genocide description)

( Interpretive: Other than that, he's not even noticable. Though, there are a few people that appreciate him, most dont really acknowledge him. Unless you kill him of course!)

Sad/depressed?

( interpreitive as well:Before the human showed up, sans explains how his brother was feeling quite down lately. We see a.. Happier side of papyrus through out our journey.. He vents out to us, the player/human, about things he dislikes, or troubles he faces. Hes like a froggit. Life is hard for a froggit.)

Smiles through things.

("This is where I tried to capture you! What a bad memory." -quote he says as he smiles through it all. He does have a sad emote, but so far i have only seen it during a call in hotland, where the CORE was shown. As your adventure is coming close.. To an end.)

Uses his playful "OUCH!" emote when you straight up kill him. Instead of his hurting/in pain emote when flowey catches him off guard before absorbing everyonesones souls.

(The reason is unkown, but that emote is normally associated with more of "light taps." Examples are, toriel's fireballs at asgore and flowey. Unless... Cutting off his head was considered a "light tap" then, but flowey wrapping him in painful vines is considered more painful than getting his head chopped off and still having enough consciousness to joke about it.)

He knows his cooking sucks and that nobody likes it.

(He's not naive. He knows. He even says it. "Nobody has like my cooking before!" - QUOTE. This isn't some hidden fact. He's trying his best, "mabye next year, he might even make something edible." -sans quote.)

That was all the stuff i gathered for now.

Feel free to tell me anything i haven't added! :)

yeah, hes a pretty cool dude, ain't he?

(Edit: i've added some new things to the bunch, and fixed/deleted ome opinions or unrelated junk. Please, continue helping me add!)

#papyrus #papyrus quote #undertale #undertale facts 101 #sans and papyrus

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hibiscusangel15 · 4 years

Text

Phantasma

Okay, so I saw an interesting, angsty post by @cruelfeline that wondered if Hordak could feel himself hurting Entrapta when Horde Prime possessed his body. The initial idea then kinda wrapped into a vague idea I had about the Horde clone hive mind, so here’s this lol.

Summary: Hordak's body was not his own. It had always belonged to Horde Prime since the moment he'd been created.

Or, a look into the clone hive mind when Horde Prime possessed Hordak in Heart, Part 2.

Rating: Teen and Up

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

Despite everything he'd been taught, he knew Horde Prime did not know all. He did not see all.

A blasphemous thought to hold, and yet, if Prime himself did not see it—did not know it by now—then what else could he not foresee? What else did he not know?

The clone had cradled other blasphemies once, too. A life outside of the hive mind. An army he dared to call his own. A name.

Memories of a time long past. A time where in his darkest heart of hearts, he had dared to wish that Prime would never find him.

And now time had caught up to him. Now the woman at the very center of his blasphemous thoughts was on her knees jeering at Horde Prime.

He clutched the crystal he'd scavenged the other day in his hand. It was the catalyst, the first spark of defiance. A treasure that he might call his own.

The hive mind was filled to the brim with love for Prime. None dared to question his rule, and so none ever suspected this single clone's treachery.

Not until he hesitated to silence the little rebel before him.

Thoughts that were not his own trawled along the edge of his mind.

What are you waiting for, brother?

Destroy her.

Millions of thoughts grasped intangibly around him, as if his brothers wished to take the cannon from his arm themselves. Ghost hands crept along his scalp, over his face, his chest, urging him to get it over with.

She is not worthy of basking in Prime's light. Dispose of her already.

Not worthy of his light. They were right about one thing, at least.

Entrapta was a light all her own. She outshone everyone, even Prime himself.

Go on, brother.

Hurry before you anger Prime, brother.

Do it now, brother.

Brother!

He turned his cannon onto Horde Prime and opened fire with a cry.

“I am not your brother.”

Confusion and outrage blistered in the hive mind. The ghost feeling of hundreds of hands, once so reassuring, relinquished its awful hold over him.

"You made me in your image, but I am more than that!"

The clone carried Horde Prime by the jaw, dangling him over the edge of an endless precipice. "I gave myself a name. I made a life of my own! I made...."

He looked back at Entrapta. The woman who mocked Horde Prime to his face. The woman who coordinated a strategic counterattack against the chipped Etherians. The woman who snuck into his sanctum and dared to call his imperfections beautiful.

"A friend."

Yet another blasphemy before Prime's light. But could friendship truly be blasphemy? Could love?

If it was, he'd rather be a sinner than exalted by a god.

“I am Hordak, and I defy your will!”

His fingers went slack, and Horde Prime was no more.

It was over. Entrapta was safe.

Right as he turned to free her, everything vanished. The ship was gone. Entrapta was gone. There was nothing but a pure white void all around him. Hundreds of hushed voices echoed through the very air of this space.

Hordak whirled around. The noise ceased.

A large screen gleamed before him. It showed the image of where he’d been standing not too long ago. He walked to it, swiping a curious hand down the screen as if it would open for him. Its texture was like that of hot gelatin. No residue came off on his hand, but he wiped the unpleasant feeling off on his leg anyway.

He heard Entrapta laugh and say something. The sound rippled around the space, distorting and warping until it became unrecognizable noise.

And then his brother’s laugh rang so distinct and clear, Hordak had to clap his hands over his ears.

No.

“Ah, little brother. So it’s true. You have been thoroughly corrupted.”

A dark mass writhed behind him. Green lights hovered in the space where its eyes should be. Four very familiar eyes burned with rage and scorn.

Horde Prime. Horde Prime had seized control of his body.

“So be it!”

The mass rushed at him, through him to the screen.

His breath caught when the screen moved towards Entrapta. On her face was an expression he’d never seen. No matter how many times he’d growled at her or snapped at her to leave him be, she never seemed threatened by him. Never feared him.

Her look of abject terror etched itself into his mind, and he slammed a fist against the screen.

“No! Entrapta! Get away!” he yelled.

Horde Prime tugged her off her feet by her hair. Her scream tore something within him. He was hurting her.

Hordak could feel each individual strand thrashing against his own hand, trying to pry his grip open. Her hair was being too gentle with him. Too subdued. She was strong enough to push him, if necessary. His defect would make it all too easy. So why couldn’t she do it?

“You have forced my hand. I will unleash the Heart, and so we shall die in cleansing flame together!” Prime’s voice echoed around him.

He could feel his mouth twist up into a wicked grin, feel as his own hand tightened its grip around Entrapta’s long hair.

It was so soft. Softer than he ever thought anything could be. He wished he could have told her that. But his mouth was no longer his own. Nor were his hands, his own mind.

Everything belonged to Prime. Everything was Prime.

“Entrapta!”

Hordak threw himself against the screen, ramming into it over and over again. It did not waver.

“Little brother.”

The voice came from behind him.

He whirled back, teeth bared in a snarl. “You…. You were supposed to die!”

“And you forget your place!” The shadow pulsated like living smoke. “You have committed the ultimate blasphemy. Given yourself a name. Dared to live as if you are your own creature! But you are nothing. One of thousands of clones that all bear the image of Prime! Without me, you would not exist!”

Hordak screamed as he lunged at the shadow of Horde Prime. His singular vision was his downfall. He did not realize it hovered right above a glowing green pit.

His feet caught the edge in the nick of time, and he sucked in a stunned breath when he saw what laid below.

Countless thousands of clones were embedded into the walls of the circular pit. Many were mere half-bodies jutting out like weeds. They all raised their hands up, worshipping the dark mass far above them. Their ruler. Their brother. The all-knowing, all-powerful Prime.

It took Hordak a second to realize that they were all decrying his very existence. They called him worthless. Defective. Unworthy. Forsaken.

Hordak tried to take a step back, only to find he could not move. Several pale hands sprouted from the ground to restrain his legs. They would not let him go no matter how hard he hit or scratched at them. Such was the resolve of a clone-brother’s devotion to Prime.

“Oh, little brother. Do you honestly think you could ever be equal to my own power? All because you came to care for some insignificant creature who pitied you? I would never let myself become so weak.”

The green lights of its eyes narrowed at him.

Hordak dared to glare right back. “Let Entrapta go! She has not done anything to deserve this!”

“On the contrary, brother. I have read your thoughts. I understand in intimate detail how much you have let her affect you. How far she has led you astray from my light. For that, she must be made an example of.”

“No!”

He strained against the many hands stacking over each other to hold him down, struggling desperately to reach the screen. “Entrapta!”

“Do you know why you could never hope to match my power, brother?”

The other clones’ cries ceased. All was silent and white save for the floating shadow enveloping itself around his wrists.

It leaned close to his ear, as if to impart some final secret. “It is because you would not be able to bear the weight of the hive mind.”

Prime pulled him forward. The bodiless hands let him go.

Hordak fell into the pit.

The clones immediately went into a frenzy, clawing and tearing and dragging him down, down and away from the pure light above. The shared thoughts of his brothers he'd heard before was a mere drop in an ocean of suffering. Now all their prayers, feelings, everything they were bore down on him. It was like no gravity he’d ever felt before.

For every clone he managed to fend off, more came to tug him into the fold. And even through all this, he could hear Entrapta crying for him. Feel as her hair squirmed in his own hand. Prime would torture him in every possible way before the end. They would die here together, and the last thing he would ever hear would be his only friend in the universe crying his name.

“Entrapta!” he screamed, reaching a hand up to the edge of the pit.

And then, the hands were gone. The clones vanished. A gentle presence guided Hordak to the top, placing him far from the pit. When he looked back, it slowly closed in on itself.

“Hordak.”

That voice. She-Ra.

The screen showed the edge of a cliff. He no longer felt Entrapta’s hair wriggling against his palm. Instead, there was the brush of grass, a warm breeze on his cheek.

Something glowed just beyond the crest of the cliff. It rose higher and higher until Hordak caught sight of She-Ra. A First Ones glyph shone on her chest, radiating power.

Prime's shadow hovered before the screen, flickering like a spark that refused to light. “Though all is reduced to rubble, Prime shall rise again. So it has been, and so it always shall be.”

Hordak knew it was futile. He felt that familiar ache in his shoulders, in his legs. His defect. Horde Prime had not anticipated inhabiting a broken body.

Even so, he no longer had any other body to return to. The hive mind had closed off. All was silent again.

Ah, Hordak realized, shutting his eyes, resigned. This body belongs to Horde Prime now. She-Ra will kill me to assure her victory.

“No! I will not fall!” Prime sputtered above him in a panic. “The hive mind will open to me! I am their ruler! Their god!”

“You are nothing more than a coward looking to escape your fate. Rejoice, brother. For you and I will both die in cleansing flame together, is that not so?” Hordak said wearily.

He did not wish to die. Not now. Not until he knew Entrapta was safe.

But this was his fate. To ensure the peace of the universe, Horde Prime needed to die.

“No, you’re wrong,” She-Ra said. “It’s time for you to go.”

He pressed his forehead against the screen and shut his eyes. He was ready.

Her hands cupped his face. Warmth emitted from her palms, steady and hopeful.

Hordak’s eyes snapped open. Suddenly, he could read her thoughts, and he knew she did not aim to destroy them both.

Prime's shadow spasmed against an unseen force ripping it away. It tried to grasp onto something, anything. It even reached out to Hordak with a smoking claw, so despondent in its desperation.

Hordak merely watched the mass purge from his body back into the nothingness from which it came.

* * *

The scenery changed in a flash of light. He stood in an empty field. Little more than grass and sharp crystals abound the place.

It did not look familiar to him. It seemed Horde Prime had yet to conquer this strange planet. Another dead end. His faulty portal had transported him somewhere even further away from Prime’s light.

The portal itself crackled and sparked. It was unstable. The communication device he brought with him did not even emit a trackable signal.

He threw the device to the ground in his frustration. It shattered into several pieces along the dirt.

A sharp cry pierced the air. He stood up straighter, startled.

There, lying bundled on top of a rock, was a baby.

Hordak squinted and caught sight of a woman running in the distance. The mother? Had she abandoned her child here?

The bundle squirmed, hands outstretched, searching.

He glanced back at the woman’s silhouette. For a moment, she stopped. Perhaps she would come to collect her child. Perhaps it had been a mistake.

Then the silhouette took off and vanished into the woods ahead.

Hordak turned back to the portal. He’d reconfigure the coordinates again and then—

The baby’s cries grew louder. He paused.

He stomped over to where the baby laid. It shifted in its blankets. Were it not for his quick reflexes, it would’ve wiggled its way off the rock.

He held it to his chest and stared. The child stared back. Its cries settled into small whimpers then silence.

“You have been abandoned,” he said, a pang in his chest. “Your creator did not want you.”

Of course he knew that the child would not understand him. It was not a guarantee that it even knew his language.

The baby settled in his arms, pressing its small cheek to his thumb. He could not leave this child here. Not after its own mother left it to die.

“Lord Hordak!” Shadow Weaver’s voice called out through the portal.

The portal’s frame warped. Sprinting towards it would be his only chance. He clutched the child tighter in his hands and ran.

* * *

Hordak gasped and found himself face-to-face with that same child. She regarded him with such kindness in her eyes that it brought that ghost pang back.

“I remember you,” he whispered. Her smile told him that she remembered him, too.

She-Ra helped him stand. No sooner than that, something small tackled him in a twirl of purple pigtails.

"Hordak!"

A laugh burst from his chest when he realized who it was. Entrapta was here. She was safe and alive and so warm. He could not ask for a better future.

“I’m so glad you’re here! Oh, we have so much to talk about!” she said and hugged him once more. “I missed you!”

Hordak smiled back at her. “I’ve missed you, too, Entrapta.”

Her hair reached up to caress his face. It was only then his smile fell.

He'd hurt her. It was not by his own will, but even so.

How could she stand to be near him after that? How could she trust he would not do so again?

The rest of her hair split off and wrapped gently around his hands. Not a single strand fought against him. Her hair willingly weaved around his open palms, his fingers.

"Stay with me. Please?"

Hordak shuddered. This felt too much like forgiveness. He was not worthy of it.

"Always," he whispered.

Without warning, Entrapta shot up and pressed her lips against his. The longer she ran her thumb up and down his jaw, the more scrambled his thoughts became.

Her eyes gleamed with pride when she pulled away. “You’re free now. You can be whoever you wanna be, Hordak.”

“I…. Yes.”

It was the best he could manage.

Entrapta laughed and pressed her forehead to his. He leaned into the touch. It was nice, knowing how soft a touch could really be. Knowing how much love could flow through a simple gesture.

Eventually, she wrapped her arms around his to lead him down the hill. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” she repeated. He could not help himself from laughing once more.

He made it back to her. Prime was gone. He was free, and he made it back to her.

Entrapta peered up at him with a smile. He returned it easily.

Hordak knew then what he would do with this newfound freedom. He would spend it by Entrapta’s side. For as much as time would allow, he would spend it all with her.

A careful hand ran through her hair. He did not yet have the words to express how sorry he was for hurting her. How he should have fought harder against Prime's control.

He wanted to say so much to her. As soon as he started to speak, however, a strand of her hair pressed itself against his mouth. A gentle admonishment, one that was met with an amused smile.

Her hair curled itself around his fingers, guiding them down to cup her face. Hordak brushed away the small tears spilling down. It was not enough to repair all the damage he’d done. She must have known that.

Entrapta never cared about such matters. She never spoke about recompense, nor did she seem to desire it.

She seemed happy just to stay here like this, smiling at him even through her tears.

The warm breeze stirred leaves and stray bits of grass all around them. The planet was alive and thriving once more.

He took a deep breath in.

Entrapta was by his side. The sun felt good on his face.

He was Hordak, and he was finally free to live by his own will.

A/N: This was legit the fastest I’ve ever written something. I was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration, and I guess that’s where it all led.

Please let me know if anyone's in-character or not. I'm very new to writing for this fandom.

#Entrapdak #Entrapta #Hordak #Horde Prime #She-Ra and the Princesses of Power #SPOP #my fanfiction

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years

Text

Brightly Shone The Moon That Night. A Dark-Cream Christmas story.

The following is a slice of life story about my Dark-Cream family at Christmas. It exists in a universe different to @zu-is-here cannon. In this universe positive emotions are not fatal to Shattered so Cross and Dream didn't rush to break the curse. It splits off around 'things will never be the same' or 'the price of happiness'. The twins were created before the last 3 chapters of Dark-Cream were drawn. Any changes to the story or changes to the characters should be accepted as being part of an alternative timeline. Thank you. Enjoy. Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and joku blog. Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii. This design for shattered is based off the one by @zu-is-here and the Dark-Cream story is also by @zu-is-here. Most of the Story will be under the cut.

"isn't this a bit much?" the gloopy one said, as his partner wrapped a scarf around his neck.

"nope" the former guard replied "can't have you getting frost bite my love"

Dream simply rolled his eyes. "but I can't really get cold? Or even hot for that matter"

"what are you talking about? you're always hot" Cross replied with a sly smile. This earned a confused look from the smaller skeleton, as Cross carefully tied the scarf and gently folded it under Shattered's jacket. Though it became clear to Cross that Dream had twigged what he'd meant a moment later, evident by the creeping gold blush spreading across his face.

The golden guardian playful punched Cross in the shoulder. "Shush you, keep in clean in front of the little ones"

At that Cross couldn't help but smile and turn his head to his two daughters. The two were in their cot, all dressed in snuggly winter clothes, waiting for their Dad's to be done getting ready. Celest was dressed in a cosy jumper with a little bobble hat, while Luna wore a full bodied coat. Their consistent look of confusion and wonder changed into toothless smiles when their dad looked at them. (idk how teething works for skeletons..... Teeth magically form or something......also tbh they should start teething soon) it warmed Cross' soul.

His attention was drawn back to dream by the sound of metal being placed down on wood. He looked to him, seeing that he'd removed his crown band and set down on the bedside table. Dream then sighed and sagged his shoulders. "it.... It feels wrong not having something on my head"

Cross chuckled.

The 4 of them where taking a trip out today. This was something both Dream and Cross had agreed was a good idea.

Cross' eye lights travelled back to the little ones. They seemed so innocent right now, as if recent events hadn't happened. As if the last two weeks hadn't been difficult to get through.

Celest's code had been burning her a lot, to the point where she'd screamed when either of them had tried to hold her, or even touch her. As for Luna, her throat had become clogged with more gloop then ever before. So much Shattered had to use a tentacle to pull some of it out. She had surely been 5 seconds from suffocating.

It had been a fortnight of sleepless nights, screaming babies and a large amount of arguing. The stress of the situation had pushed them very far apart. Many things had been said, old wounds jabbed at, tears shed. But after a lot of long talks they had sorted out each fight. They were a lot stronger then some petty arguments. There was no room in their relationship for emotional strain......not anymore. The two loved each other, it had just been a difficult time.

In recent days, the twins seemed to have recovered to a stable state. Back to the laughing, smiling, Cow lovers. Cross never thought he'd be so happy that they'd started playing with their cow collection again.

After a long talk with his finance, the two concluded that they'd all been stuck in the void space for way to long. Even with the few rooms and furniture, it's not like there was much to do there and a serious cabin fever had developed. So while the twins were in a good place, they had to take the opportunity to spend some time together as a family.

Cross once again looked back at his partner. Only to need to do a double take. Dream was wearing a hat now. A festive white one with golden stripes running across it. It was reminiscent of a classic Santa hat, other then the colours. The fabric had black stains in several places due to where Dream had touched it. Though despite that Cross recognised it all to well. To his dismay, he felt his face slowly get warm. Their first kiss.

He could remember it clearly in his mind, the mistletoe, the hotel, Gaster sniggering in the corner. But mostly, Dream. The sweet, positive skeleton from back then was very different to the one who stood before him now. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Remembering that day caused his blush to darken. It had truly been one of the most embarrassing, but best days of his life. Though a part of him wondered how Dream still had the hat. After everything, the hat had been saved.

"you've still got that hat?" he said, in a half teasing tone.

Shattered smirked at Cross' flushed face "of course, so many good memories".

A stream of positivity ran through him and with it, it brought a sudden, but expected twinge in his soul. It was a sharp pain, like a knife being slowly pressed in. Dream tried to ignore it but he visually flinched causing Cross to come over.

"positivity again Dreamboat?" he questioned.

Dream nodded "it's alright, I'm used to it" The guardian sensed some sadness from Cross, even if he kept a natural face.

"I'm OK Crossy, promise!"

Cross sighed and gently kissed Shattered's forehead. "if you say so my love"

With that he walked back over to the twins so that he could get their carriers. Dream sighed slightly. It was strange seeing Cross in an outfit different to his guard uniform. So much so that Dream already kind of missed it, not that Cross didn't look handsome is what he was currently wearing.

The last time the family had left the void to go shopping, (which is really a story in itself) they had been stared at from all angles. Every man, women and child. Monster or human, had taken part in watching them. Like animals in a zoo. Cross had insisted that it was the twins they were staring at, since his children were so beautiful that of course people would stare. But in the end both him and Dream knew the real reason.

They were staring at them.

He couldn't really blame them though, how often do you come across a monster with heterochromia wearing what was best described as fancy dress, accompanied by a slime covered skeleton in heels and a crown? Many things had changed since the apple incident, but people staring as he passed had not.

Today they both wanted a peaceful day with their babies, so they had opted to wear more normal clothes. Cross had traded his normal cape and jacket for a puffy white winter coat which he wore a red jumper under. Dream had opted for something similar, though a deep brown colour as to not show the stains so much. It felt odd being in a new outfit, but also very nice. There was only so long someone could take being in tight trousers and shirts with big collars.

The former guard straightened up, clutching a harness in his hands.

"these were definitely a good buy" he said, as he walked back to Dream.

Dream raised an eyebrow "did you really 'Buy' them Cross?" he said is a inquisitive tone.

Cross' body tensed and his partner gave him an sharp stare. Even without his emotion sensing ability, Dream could read Cross like a book.

"uhhhhhhh.......yes?"

"sure" Dream replyed, with slight amusement in his voice.

A nervous chuckle came from Cross. "look they were a good thing to get ok?....... Very helpful for the little ones"

Dream gave him an unsure nod. He still wasn't exactly well versed in child care, so he wasn't really sure what these harnesses where even for yet. Since he figured that the answer was probably obvious, he didn't ask.

"want me to help you get it on?" Cross asked, raising an eyebrow. Shattered wasn't the only one who could easily read his partner.

Shattered said nothing but nodded. His golden blush reappeared when Cross started to run his hands across and around his body to get the harness into place. His soul gave a tiny learch for a moment, but not one of pain.

He knew there was a part of him that wanted Cross to touch his soul again, It had been such a close experience for them both and had brought about a lot of pleasurable feelings. It was truly something he wanted to experience again. A feeling he almost craved. But he knew all to well, as his eye sockets fixed onto the cot to his right, that the potential consequences made it impossible. He was just going to have to live with these unmet desires. Just as he was sure that Cross lived with similar ones.

"there all done"

Dream jumped. Snapped out of his thoughts by his future husband's voice.

Now the harness was all attached. Not too tight, but not too lose. He could see that he now had a pocket on his chest which he guessed the baby sat in. Clever. It was kind of like a kangaroo pouch.

Cross strapped a identical carrier around his own chest and walked over to the babies cot to collect his daughters.

Luna smiled wide at the sight of him. The older skeleton matched her smile and slowly picked his child up. Luna giggled and kicked her tiny feet out as he did. Her tentacle flickered around the corners of her mouth as she laughed. Cross could feel his own joy fill him at the sight. But he nullified it for his partner's sake.

Speaking of which, he turned back to Dream.

"you wanna take Celly or Lu Lu?" he asked.

"I'll take Luna" the smaller skeleton replied "since you are already holding her". He held his arms out in an awkward, slightly unsure way.

Cross gave a soft, knowing smile "Its OK Dreamboat, I'll help you get her in the carrier"

Shattered sighed, irritated by his own incompetence and nodded.

With that Cross carefully attempted to slip the wriggling baby into her carrier. Which wasn't easy, as she cheerfully shifted her legs around. In fact Cross had a slightly hard time keeping hold of her.

After much difficulty, Cross managed to feed her legs through the leg holes and sit her safely inside. The whole time, Dream remained mostly still, he didn't want to do anything in case he ended up hurting Luna.

Once she was buckled in, Cross took a slow step back to admire his handy work. Luna bounced excitedly in her carrier and her Papa looked almost comically uncomfortable by all her movement.

"do you want me to take her Day Dream?" Cross said, upon noticing Dreams unease around the wiggling baby. Dream shook his head "no, its fine" he replied as he relaxed his shoulders. "you get Celest and we can go"

Cross gave a nod and turned back to the cot. As he went to pick up his slightly younger daughter, he noticed that she had in fact fallen asleep. Cross sighed - not again....

For most parents, the time when the children slept was a time of bliss, and after a fortnight of little sleep, Cross almost agreed. But his child had a habit of falling asleep suddenly and for long periods. Dream had told him that when this happened her energy levels were low, showing that her body couldn't regulate itself fully.

With another sigh, Cross carefully picked up the sleeping baby and slipped her into the carrier. It was very hard to wake her when she was like this, but he was still extra careful. Not waking a sleeping baby was basically a universal law, though he would have to if she was asleep to long. After double checking that she was safely inside and her head was supported, he walked back over to Dream.

"any particular preference for an au Dream boat?" he asked

Shaking his head, Dream replied "Not really, just try and get a pacifist timeline"

With a nod, Cross extended his arm. There was a spark of magic at his figure tips and his knife materialised. He dragged it through the air in a fluid motion, as he did it split the air as if it where a piece of cloth. It was a causal splitting of space and time. Simple.

Luna watched her dad with a look of wonder. Her silver eyes where wide and bright.

"gahhhhh daaaaag" she cooed and reached for him.

Cross glanced back at her with a smile "just you wait Princess, when you are older I'll teach you how to do this"

These words hung heavily in the air for a moment, as Cross carefully finished opening the portal. The same thing was on both Cross and Dreams minds.

If you get older.

With a sigh and a snap of his fingers, the knife was gone and the portal was open.

"After you" Cross said, stooping into a slight bow and winking at his fiancé.

Dream covered his mouth with his hand and fake giggled. "Oh what a gentleman" he said with a large smile across his face before walking forward and entering the portal.

The first thing that hit Dream as he reached the other side, was a cold crisp breeze. The chill made him feel grateful that he was wearing his boots, even if they were old and an obnoxious shade of yellow.

The breeze blew lightly causing Luna to shiver. There was no wind in there home, so this brought a welcome change to Shattered. He took a deep breath into his non existent lungs.

It was evening. Strange? He figured that their sense of time must have been thrown out a little. They did live in a void after all. However it was a pleasant evening, with sky littered with stars and a full moon.

Shattered allowed himself to bask in the fresh air for a while, as he heard footsteps behind him and the portal close.

"Oh it's good to be outside again" came Cross' voice from behind.

With a nod, Shattered turned around to face his partner. Luna wriggled more in her carrier, looking around at all the new things she'd never seen before.

"someone is excited" Cross said, leaning down and kissing his daughter on the forehead. She giggled and very nearly headbutt him as he did. Chuckling, he pulled away.

The guard looked around "looks like we're in a small town... If I had to guess its the surface"

The two of them started to look around, trying to find something to engage with. It wasn't long before they spotted something.

Both skeletons attention was caught by something in the near distance. A large crowd of people. Among them were people in hats, jumpers and coats, carrying bags and cups of hot drinks. A vast amount of stalls and stands were among them, not to mention fur trees in fancy dress and lights. Hundreds and hundreds of lights.

"a Christmas Market!" Dream said, his voice hinting an excitement "I've never been to one! I forgot that it was this time of the year"

His excitement felt like a balloon filling inside him. Only to be burst when his soul gave a sting inside his ribs.

But Dream couldn't help but feel a little happy, this was such a good thing to come across, perfect for their trip out.

Cross tilted his head "how do you know what Christmas is my love? It's more of a human custom".

"well that's easy" Dream said, a slight smugness in his voice at the fact he seemed more knowledgeable then Cross about something.

"Christmas is a time where positive emotions take hold, even in the darkest of times, positively rules here"

He eye lit up slightly as he spoke. Even if Dream was corrupted, and technically not the positivity guardian anymore, he was still happy to talk about it. It reminded him of easier times.

"as the former positively guardian it was only natural for me to learn about the festival...." his voice turned somba for a moment "Heaven taught me...... remember?"

There was another heaviness in the air at those words. A unspoken guilt and regret and then a thought. Dream now possessed the very power that had killed him.....

The gloopy one sighed and straightened the baby carrier. Luna gurgled as he did so.

"he would have loved to meet these two wouldn't he" he spoke, his voice twisting in its somba state.

"yeah... But it's ok" the guard replied, taking Dreams hand.

"in a way, he is here" he said in a soft tone, running his finger across Dreams ring. A smile ran across his face before he realised Shattered's hand.

After a short moment of silence they were disturbed by a soft noise. Celest had woken from her sleep. She wriggled and shifted against Cross' chest, her tiny voice gurgling.

"Nice of you to join the party Sweet pea" Cross said, upon noticing.

"we should probably get going, before she falls asleep again" Dream stated in reply. Cross nodded.

The family started to walk together towards the market. As they approached the air was filled with the smell of food and the sound of cheesy pop songs. The emotions of the people around them where starting to fill in.

The first thing that Dream felt was a lot of emotion around him. He was going to need to take a moment to get used to it. From what he could feel it was primarily positive, but then he felt something else.

To his right he felt anger and frustration. That wasn't the kind of thing that he expected this time of year, so he turned his head slightly. There was a human and a monster stood in the huddle.

He caught a few words of what they were saying.

"typical every year you leave gift buying to the last minute" said one.

"it's not completely last minute" said the other.

"it's the 23rd! How is that not last-" and then he was out of ear shot.

"23rd?" Shattered said to himself "huh.... It was my birthday 2 days ago". He counted on his fingers for a moment, trying to figure out how old that made him.

"it was!? Oh my goodness that's right!" came a voice from his side. It was slight panic from Cross. Uh oh.

Dream waved his hands in a jazz hand fashion "woah woah woah, before you go flying off the handle, we both didn't realise-

"I'm so sorry my love!"

Shattered groaned. Here we go.

"I can't believe I forgot! I'll make it up to yo-

Dream cut Cross off with a peak on the teeth. Cross jumped and his face flushed.

"......... Cross, I'm going to have hundreds more birthdays... Its OK if we skip one" the guardian whispered before nuzzling his gloopy face against him. "presides.... We had more important things to worry about"

As if on que both twins cooed.

A little smile creeped on to Cross' face. Dream mirrored it.

"now let's stop standing here go to the market" he held his hand out "it's waiting for us".

With a soft smile, Cross took his hand and they started walking again. It wasn't long before they finally reached the market.

The market was busy.

Both humans and monsters were walking around, talking happily. Children of all ages were rushing around with chocolates in their hands and candy canes in their mouths. Positive emotions were swirling like the snow in the wind. A warm blend of joy, song and family.

The smells of cakes and and pies were everywhere. Hot wine, ginger, cinnamon, dried fruit and nuts. Coffee, chutney, jams and cheeses.

For Dream it was like being spun in a giant bath of spice. The smells did not help his developing headache. There where positive emotions everywhere, every angle.

He let go of his partner's hand and stumbled slightly. The emotions were threatening to make him collapse as they came at all sides. Being in a void space for so long meant he'd gotten used to only Cross' emotions being around. But now there must have been 100 people at lest.

With the surrounding area becoming a blur, the sky and ground became one and he felt something hit his back and press it.

After a moment of silence he could hear the sound of a baby crying from off in the distance. Someone was calling his name but he could hardly hear it as the crying baby got closer. But eventually both got clearer.

"Dream! Dream are you OK!? Can you hear me?"

It was Cross.

"C.... Cross?" he said, looking for his partner's face. He eventually found it, hovering above him.

"why....." he said reaching his heavy arm up "why are you flying?"

The former guard gave him a confused expression. A moment later, Dream realised that the pressure on his back was in fact the floor and he was laying on it.

"you collapsed" said Cross with a pained expression. Cross' worry and stress washed over Dream and snapped him back to reality. The crying baby was very close. In fact it was coming from his chest.

Dream pushed himself onto his elbows and looked down. Luna was crying and wriggling in her carrier.

"oh.... OH!" Shattered said as a sudden and huge instinct hit him. Something he'd not really felt up till this point. Caring not about his state, he pulled her out of the carrier and rocked her in his arms.

"shhhh shhh it's ok, I'm sorry sweetheart, are you hurt?"

If Dream hadn't just collapsed, Cross would have felt happy at the sight of him comforting Luna. The tiny skeleton quieted down, but her non-existent lip was still trembling. Shattered inspected her, happy not to find any marks that would indicate she'd been hurt by the fall. Probably just scared.

"what happened my love?" came Cross' voice again.

"emotions" Dream bluntly responded, before attempting to get to his feet. He hadn't gotten far when he felt his partners hands grip his and help him pull up. He'd barely just gotten to his feet when things started to blur again and his head started to once again throb.

He fell forward slightly into Cross' chest, the guard put his arms around him to support him and keep him steady. He had to be careful to make sure the babies didn't get squished.

Cross' fiancé give out a low, pained groan and Luna give a wine of discomfort.

"Keep hold of her Dreamboat, I'll find somewhere where you can sit down" he softly said, looking around to find a seat. Luckily he spotted a park bench not to far from them.

Cross slowly and gently guided Dream backwards until Dream's legs brushed against the bench and he was able to slowly sit down. He sank his weight against the wooden frame, his limbs felt heavy and his head felt horrible. After a short time he started to adjust. Feeling himself coming back into reality, Shattered adjusted his hold on Luna to make sure he didn't drop her. Cross kneeled in front of them both.

"we can always go home if it's to much for you"

Immediately Dream shock his head, which he regretted a second later as the dizziness ramped.

"no Crossy, we both agreed we needed some time out of the void. ...im sorry that I'm ruining it"

The tall skeleton lightly gripped Dreams shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes.

"you are not ruining anything"

He kissed the bridge of Dreams nose.

"you have made everything in my life better, don't forget that"

A smile ghosted Shattered's face at those words.

"you know.... You're blind, unconditional love for me is really cheesy" he said, his smile turning into a smirk.

"I do try"

The couple shared a laugh and Dream felt himself feel a bit better. He didn't feel great though. The emotions around him where still dizzying.

Behind Cross he could see the market. It truly did look like fun and he felt bad that he'd soured the mood. He continued to rock Luna and she turned around in his arms to burry her face into his chest.

"you should....." Shattered paused as another wave of dizziness hit him "You should go ahead of me, I'll catch up"

"Absolutely not" Cross stated firmly "I will not leave you, I refuse"

"Cross" Dream said in an equally as firmly manner "I can look after myself for 10 minutes, it will be fine..... I want you to go have some fun"

The guard's expression softened and he stood up again, running his hand across the back of his skull unsurely as he did. "I.... I don't know"

Dream rested Luna in his lap and reached his hands out, Cross took them.

"Cross, I want you to go ahead, I'll join you soon, I promise"

Letting go of Dreams hands, Cross sighed. "Alright..... But I'll come back in 15 minutes, if you are still here then we are going home"

Dream nodded slowly "Deal"

After a few more unsure moments Cross started to back away from Dream. He went slowly in order to give Dream time to tell him to stop. After he didn't, Cross turned and walked in the direction of the market.

As Shattered watched Cross walk into the market, he felt his daughter start to fuss in his arms. His golden eye travelled down to her again. She looked a bit confused or upset. Her emotions weren't developed enough to be easily readable by Shattered. But from what he could sense she was distressed by her dad walking away.

He looked back at Cross again, as the guard inspected what seemed to be a stand of various pastries and cakes. There was a sad, yet nostalgic smile on his face.

Shattered watched as he exchanged some words with the vendor and took Celest's little hand and waved it. Clearly he was introducing them. The vendor seemed to coo at the baby a little and Cross straightened up proudly. Probably bragging about something cute Celest had done recently.

After a few more words he put some coins on the counter and was handed a paper bag, containing what Dream had to assume was a pastry of some kind. He waved good bye to the vendor and started to walk away.

As he did, he took his food item out of its bag and went to take a bite. He locked eyes with Dream mid-bite and gave him a slight deer in the headlights look. After finishing taking his bite, he smiled and waved to his lover. Dream waved back.

It was clear from Cross' expression that whatever he was eating was very tasty and it caused Dream to wonder how much food Cross was going to buy tonight.

Luna fussed again as her father and sister got further away.

Luna and Celest had been almost inseparable since day one, Shattered was still a little unnerved by it. They were always most comfortable when together. Knowing this, Dream told himself that Luna was fussing because she was parted from her sister. But another thought came to him.

What if she was sad about Cross leaving?

It was a stupid thing to think, both babies had been apart from Cross before and not responded this way. Yet the thought wouldn't leave him. It was the kind of thought that bounces around your head and burrows into you the moment you try to forget it.

The first time he left them with me for an extended period of time, I'd tried to....

A chill ran over him followed by a long twang of guilt, which caused him to tighten his grip on his daughter. Cross still didn't know about that night and he wasn't sure he could ever tell him. What was wrong with him? He acted like he cherished them these days (or at lest most days), but how could he when he'd thought of doing such a thing? When all he'd felt upon seeing them for the first time was nothing. His eyes stung and threatened to start crying. In that moment he felt tempted to call Cross back and have him wrap his arms around him. But he couldn't. Not while Cross didn't know.

"I'm sorry that I'm not the best parent to you Mi hija"

The words left his mouth as barely even a whisper. They sounded if he'd not been aware he said them. As if he'd not fully intend to say them out loud. His throat was dry and his soul was burning and twisting.

Cross says you are getting better.

One part of him said

But who's to say they will live to see you be better?

He answered to himself.

He felt the fabric of his jacket get tugged slightly. This drew his attention back to Luna.

She had turned in his arms slightly and was looking up at him with wide eyes. If Shattered hadn't known better, he'd have thought he could sense her worrying. Her tiny fist was curled in the fabric of his coat.

"paaaaaa gaa?"

Dream sighed.

"I get a lot of things wrong..... And I'm going to keep getting things wrong, I might be wrong most of the time"

The former guardian continued to speak in a near whisper, his finger stroking the tiny creature's cheek.

"but I'm going to get some things right as well...... And I'll make a deal with you"

Luna's face scrunched up a little. It was almost amusing to see, as if she was thinking really hard.

"if you and your sister keep on fighting, I'll keep on trying" Luna turned her face into his hand and chewed his glove.

"if you stick around long enough, you'll see a day when I get things right most of the time.... You want to see that right?"

"maaaaaa"

"deal?"

"gahhh gahh"

Dream laughed slightly "I'll take that as a yes"

He looked away from her again. Cross had completely disappeared from his view now, probably off stuffing chocolates. Since Dream wasn't someone who needed to eat, he didn't fully understand, but the sweet and warm smells in the air were very pleasant. He'd not eaten a thing for at least two and a half years, maybe he could try a little something. Carefully he slipped the tiny skeleton back into her carrier and fastened her in.

"Should we go check out the market mi pequeña estrella?" he asked, finally getting back to his feet. His daughter gave a gurgle of approval.

"then let's go shall we"

The atmosphere of the market was all together jolly. As he walked into the heart of it, his head throbbed again, but he didn't feel dizzy. He'd adjust to it fully soon.

Despite what he would want to admit, he felt a very slight anxiety without Cross by his side. He was in no way dependent on Cross, but he was so used to having him near, it was strange to have him absent. To not be able to feel his energy or be able to hold his hand.

No Dream! He thought. Don't be such a baby.

He patted his daughters head with his hand absentmindedly, feeling the fabric of her bow slip down slightly as he did. She giggled and a smile creeped onto Dreams face as she did.

A stand caught his eye. It was a stall of what seemed to be jewellery. As many of the stalls were, it was adorned with colourful lights and decorations of all shapes. Though this one in particular stood out to him. He wasn't sure why, but he decided to approach it.

The monster running the stand stiffened as he approached, but he paid it no mind. He could see the jewellery much closer now. Each piece seemed unique and hand made. There were bracelets, earrings, rings and necklaces, shimmering in all different colours. He greatly enjoyed looking over each individual piece, until his eye socket landed on one.

It was a necklace. Gold, set with a blueish purple stone. There was a small crescent charm on the chain as well. Dream stared at it and knitted his eyebrows. For a moment he wasn't sure why it caught his eye. But as he moved his hand up and traced his thumb across the stone, he realised. He then retracted his hand is if he'd been shocked. He stepped back and folded his hands together, but his sight remained locked on it.

Where are you? Are you even still alive?

A long sigh left his mouth as he forced himself to think of something else. But as he turned to walk away, he glanced at it again. It was almost like he couldn't bare to leave it.

I'm being silly, I'm a man, why would I need a necklace anyway?

With that, he tore his eyes away and proceeded to the next stand. As before the monster running it tensed slightly.

This vendor was selling what seemed to be plastic toys and figures. These weren't home made and seemed to be just the same old toys you could buy anywhere. There was doll house items, human figures and animals. He was so busy looking over the collection, that he didn't notice as his daughter reached for her favourite animal. He was only alerted to what she was doing by a slobbery squish sound.

She had suck the head of the toy into her mouth and was chewing on it.

"Luna no!" Shattered said "I don't want to have to buy that"

Carefully his pulled the plastic cow from his daughters mouth. A thin trail of a mix between gloop and saliva followed it. He had no idea how one baby could produce so much spit so fast. He wiped some off on his coat, but it didn't come close to cleaning it. Yeah....... he was going to have to buy it. He had a small purse of gold coins that Cross had given him. He hadn't asked where Cross had gotten the coins, it was probably best not to.

As he handed it to the seller and asked for the price, the slimy coating ran onto his fingers. Yuck. Not that he could really talk though, he was almost completely covered in something worse.

Dream expected to feel anger or disgust come from the stall owner. But instead he could only sense fear. His eye locked with the eyes of the monster behind the counter. It didn't take long for him to realise. Cross might have treated him like he was the most beautiful and sweet skeleton in the multiverse, but that didn't stop his appearance from being...... Striking at best.

He grimaced and handed the monster the money he owed and took back the toy.

"have a nice evening" he said, trying to sound friendly.

"y-you too sir.... Merry Christmas"

He turned away from the stall and walked back into the market. After inspecting the toy to make sure there was nothing small that she could choke on he handed it back to Luna. She happy put it back in her mouth, flicking his hand with her mouth tentacle as she did.

Shattered felt a burst of joy from his daughter, which made him light headed for a moment. After collecting his bearings he smiled.

"Adorable idiot" he said leaning over and kissing the top of her head. "now let's go find Daddy shall we?"

It wasn't a market that was too large, just a fair amount of stalls and stands and a handful of people. There was no doubt that he and Cross stood out, so it shouldn't be to hard to find his partner.

If I where cross.... Where would I go?

The answer came to his mind not even a second after asking it.

Chocolate...

As he'd noted before, there was a vast amount of edibles all around him. Mostly foods of the sweet variety, commonly fruity cakes and pies. But it wasn't long till he saw what he wanted. Out of the corner of his eye socket, he spotted what he was looking for. Just as he'd expected, chocolate.

Humans and normal monsters, seemed to be fascinated in forming chocolate into many different shapes. Animals, people, stars and bells. Shattered supposed that they got more pleasure consuming the sweet substance when it involved biting the head off of a defenceless reindeer, or mutilating a Santa or two.

He approached the stall of chocolate items. It was a pleasant smell, reminding him strongly of Cross' coat. There was no doubt the guard would have come here. He just had to find him.

Meanwhile, as Shattered looked for him, his mate was busy in a hearty conversation with his daughter.

The guard slipped a snowflake shaped chocolate into his mouth, having finished off the pastry long ago.

"now what should be get for Papa as a late birthday present hmm?" he asked Celest as she blew a spit bubble. "Something simple, you know he doesn't like flashy things"

Celest continued to blow a spit bubble and watched it as it expanded. "why is it that he must be so difficult to shop for....

His voice trailed off as he continued to ponder the question. What to get someone who didn't like material things. Other then his scarf, his ring and his crown, Dream never held onto things. Maybe he could get him a new accessory, like a new piece of jewellery or something. He continued to think and slipped another chocolate into his mouth. As he did this, without him noticing, the tiny skeleton had popped the spit bubble and was now reaching for the candy cane sticking out of his shopping bag full of goodies. She grabbed it and without hesitation, plunged the bright stripped stick into her mouth without a care.

After not even a second her face screwed up and she recoiled. She let out a wine of regret and disgust, which alerted Cross that she was distressed.

"No sweetie , that's pepper mint" the guard sighed, plucking the now sticky candy from his daughters hands. He put it on the counter of the stand they were stood next to. A stall selling Christmas fauna such as Holly, pinecones and mistletoe.

As he set the candy down, he saw daughters face still looked unhappy. "that must have tasted horrible" he said, dabbing the spit from around her mouth with his sleeve.

"we'll get you some nice warm milk when we get home ok?" he said in a baby voice, bouncing her slightly to try and cheer her up. It worked and she giggled. Cross sighed in relief, crisis averted.

He thought back to his question about presents. About Dream. It had been a little while since he'd left him. It would probably be a good idea to go back.

"Now if you are done sampling my treat bag Celly, maybe we should go check on-

"hey" came a voice from up close to his left. He jumped. After a second he realised he recognised the voice and turned to meet Dreams gaze, some chocolate still on his cheek. He was about to say something about how it was go to see that Dream was feeling better, when Dream spoke.

"wanna prove you aren't just a 20g wager?" the golden guardian said, with a slightly sly smile.

For a moment Cross was confused. Had the emotions caused his partner to go loopy? Before he could ask, Dream pointed his finger upwards. Feeling more confused, Cross glanced up. He could now see that they were in fact stood under a mistletoe. Quite a few actually. The sight of the white berried plant made his cheeks flush. He'd fallen right into Dream's trap. How had he not noticed.

He swallowed what was left of the snowflake the chocolate in his mouth "uhh um.... Uh"

He locked eyes with Dream again, finding that he'd taken a step closer. Taking a gloved hand and cupping Cross' cheek, he said.

"I'll take that as a yes"

With that he gently pulled Cross' face closer, till the gap was closed between them with a soft kiss. Cross' soul fluttered as Dream leaned in more to kiss him stronger. The taste of chocolate in his mouth was soon replaced with the flavour of bitter apple sauce. But he didn't mind it, he much liked apple sauce. Unfortunately the kiss wasn't long lived. The two were forced to separate after feeling their daughters starting to fuss, since they were being pressed between them. Dream stepped back slightly, giving his children room and took a breath of winter air. The euphoria from the kiss surged through him, as it had been a while since they had and therefore felt really good.

In fact, It had been a while since they'd done a lot of things. Including telling Cross that he........... That's something he needed to fix and fix straight away. His eyes locked on Cross.

"Te quiero, mi soldado" Dream said, with his face dusting gold. He looked away and pulled his scarf over his face slightly.

Cross returned his blush and smiled "yo tambien Te quiero, mi sol"

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rosecoloredbi-writes · 3 years

Text

Settle

Summary: After the death of your best friend and their spouse, you went from Godparent to Parent overnight. Now, Mio is your world. Because of this new role, you move back to Tokyo, Japan in order to keep Mio with her friends and her school, even if it means you might run into *him*.

Warnings: Mentions of stalking. Swearing probably. Cannon violence. Single parenthood. barely mentions Mio's parents passing.

Gender Neutral!Reader x Shouta Aizawa (Eventual)

Mentions of past GN!Reader x Dabi

A/N: Okay here is my first fic for My Hero Academia! I got the idea for it earlier today and figured I'd just post this first part I just finished and see if I should keep uploading. This is the first thing I've written in a while and I'm so excited to be writing again :)

It took him a moment to reorient himself, but he knew where he was going. A few more buildings and finally to his perch, he looked in to see you, and to his surprise, a child- no older than five, maybe 6, snuggled into your chest, your arms protectively around them. He stayed in his hiding spot for a while as you slept with your child. He hadn’t been informed there would be a child.

About an hour later, he noticed another person watching you in the shadows, just like he was. He would have to stay all night to make sure no one harmed you.

You controlled your breathing, not wanting the two sets of eyes to know you were awake, to know that you knew they were there. This way you had the advantage. You didn’t know what they wanted, but either way, you had a bad feeling about it.

She began to stir as the sun shone through the open window, stretching her small arms and legs before turning back to face you.

“Good morning my sunshine,” you said softly. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded her head before sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Guess it’s time to get up, huh Mio,” you stood up and picked your girl up, giving her a squeeze as your eyes glanced around. Only one set of eyes, you realized making you shiver.

You did your best to keep to your usual routine and soon enough you were out the door, Mio's hand in yours.

The school Mio attended was used to having students whose parents were pro heroes, so you gave her teacher the signal and they knew something was up and knew not to release even to the people you had given the school the okay to. After a kiss goodbye, you headed to the market, now with your headphones on, music off.

You hummed as you looked through the isles of food, picking up the few things you needed and setting them in your basket. The bakery you worked at was out of a special type of flour you needed to bake a client’s cake with. Once everything was paid for and in tow, you noticed a red feather settled amongst the items.

Why is Hawks following me? What does he need from me and why?

You carried on with your day, hoping he hadn’t noticed that you had noticed.

That is until he came into the bakery. You ducked just in time and took a deep breath, coming back out to the front after he dinged the bell.

He was about to say something, a dumb smirk on his face, but you cut him off.

“Why are you following me?” You asked, trying your best to sound confident and brave.

His features dropped and his eyes narrowed before quickly going back to a leisurely look. “You’re better than they told me you’d be,” He finally said.

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to the little door and opened it for him, gesturing for him to follow you to the back. Once you were settled you told him to start talking.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this bu-”

“I know someone else is following me,” you said, cutting him off again. “I need to know who, why, and if my daughter is in danger.”

“Straight to the point. I like a person who knows what they want,” he commented, eyebrow raised. This had you rolling your eyes again. “We don’t know why or if your daughter is going to be targeted, but we are pretty sure the League of Villains is watching you.”

You took in a sharp inhale. There was only one person who you could think of that would have joined up with them and you knew why he was watching you. You should have recognized the bright blue of his eyes. “Dabi.”

You were very quickly taken into hiding with a man you didn’t know, cause that made you feel safe and protected. But, you pulled some information out of him. For example, his name was Aizawa Shouta and he was an underground hero. His quirk allowed him to erase other people’s quirks, thus the name Eraser Head. He also had a cool capture weapon he wore as a scarf. You tried to mess with it once and it didn’t end well.

You were allowed to go pick Mio up, but you were discreetly escorted by Aizawa who was now in street clothes, hair tied up, looking like he could fall asleep at any moment.

Mio was confused as to who the man was and gave you a questioning look. “Don’t worry, he’s a friend,” you told her softly as the three of you began back to the safe house. Once there, you introduced the two.

She was tense but eventually got comfortable when she saw that you were okay.

“She’s cute,” you turn to Aizawa who is watching Mio with a soft smile on his face.

“She’s the best kid a parent could ask for,” you replied. “Her quirk,” you started slowly after a moment had gone by, “we don’t know a lot about it, but it has to do with her voice. I don’t know who it came from either. I’m not her biological parent, I was her godparent. And then her parents died and here we are. She’s only said a few words out loud and whatever happened, it scared her into staying silent.”

He nodded. “So Y/N, what is your quirk? Does it have to do with your increased senses?”

“That’s mostly learned, but I’ve always had the extra sense of knowing when I’m being watched, which has come in handy more times than you’d think.” You began rolling up your long sleeves, showing tattoos covering almost all the skin on your arms. “Creation is my main ability, but it has its drawbacks. If it’s not illustrated on my skin already, it’s painful and it drains me, which is why I’m covered in tattoos. I have weapons, items I need handy, and a few odds and ends. Now, with the tattoos, it’s almost as easy as breathing.”

Aizawa began to reach out, pausing before he made contact with your skin, looking up to you for permission. When you nodded, the pads of his fingers lightly traced several of them, following a vine up your arm to a butterfly. He looked at you inquisitively and you gently focused on it until a butterfly appeared, gently fluttering.

“Its… it’s real. You can create living things?” He asked in awe, “But how?”

You shrugged and watched as Mio noticed the flittering and watched with wonder as the butterfly landed on the sofa.

“They don’t last forever, that’s the drawback. The bigger the creation and the longer I will it, the more it takes from me. Inanimate objects are the easiest.” You reached your arm around your back and under your shirt, pulling back with it a sword.

Aizawa gently traced the ornate handle, only to jump back as Hawks entered.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he says with a sly smile. “You figure out what their quirk is yet?” He asks Aizawa.

You turn to him with a frown. Of course, he didn’t actually care about you. You just met! Not to mention you were a part of his mission.

He has the sense to look slightly ashamed before nodding to Hawks.

“Good, now,” he says turning back to you. “Why is Dabi following you? You know more than you are letting on.” He spoke as he walked closer and closer, wings growing larger. You suppose it’s supposed to intimidate you.

You roll your eyes at him for like, the fifth time that day and brush past him. You walk over to Mio who had fallen asleep watching your butterfly. You smooth the hair out of her face before turning back to the men, giving them a warning look and asking them to keep their voices down.

“Fine,” you huffed, tired of them just staring at you, doing nothing. “I dated Dabi for a little while. Back when I was younger and foolish and my morals were… well, flexible.”

“What did you do to make him want to follow you?” Hawks was growing impatient.

“We fought, I won, he told him if I ever came back I better watch my back. I reckon he’s making good on that promise. I broke his heart, but that was so long ago. But, I mean,” you paused and looked back up at the two men who were looking at you incredulously, “he is really good at holding grudges.”

Hawks looked like he was going to have an aneurysm and Aizawa… well his face was unreadable. Except, there was a touch of something else in his eyes.

"Well you aren't going anywhere for a while," Hawks state with all the authority he could muster, still going over everything in his mind. "Better get comfy."

"No," you state clearly. Stopping everyone in their tracks.

"Excuse me?" Hawks says, stepping forward, extending his wings.

"You heard me," you reply, stepping forward yourself, fingers itching to create one of your many weapons. "If Dabi gets even a hint that y'all know and are protecting me, a whole lot more people are going to get hurt. So no, we aren't staying here. We are going to go home. If I have to have someone to guard us we are going to make it look as natural as possible. If you don't agree to my terms I'm just gonna take Mio and we are going back on the run."

Hawks looks like he wants to scream and Aizawa looks amused. You turn to pick Mio up, then you head to the door.

"Aizawa, you've been seen in public with me. You can be our guard. You'll come over at 6 tonight where we will have a meal, then you'll stay late because we drank maybe a little to much sake, then you'll sleep on the couch. Got it?"

Aizawa nods, completely amused by Hawks' bewilderment, and pats him on the back once before walking out himself.

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fic #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fic #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #eraser head #eraser head x reader

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yoditorian · 4 years

Text

lacuna - part 9

din/reader

well shit guys,,,,this is the last one.

this has been a labour of love and i just want to say a huge huge thank you to everyone who’s commented and reblogged and sent me asks and even just lurked and read it. seriously, from the absolute bottom of my heart, thank you. i’d also love to extend a special thank you to @keeper0fthestars and @chatterbean for consistently cheering me on throughout this fic. and an extra extra special thank you to @bee-dameron for being the most incredible sounding board, and without whom this fic literally would not exist. this was really my first jump back into writing fic properly and i couldn’t be more grateful for the love its received. it might be the end for the main storyline, but it’s definitely not the end of this universe 💛

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 4.9k

warnings: angst angst angst, rebel is healing, din is having the worst time of his life (all of season 2), swears, yes i am referencing That Monologue

He can’t stop hearing it.

How you pleaded with him, how you begged him to stay, how you cried when he left. Din’s sure it’s a sound that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

Din has been staring out at the swirling lights of hyperspace for hours when the kid clambers up into his lap, his stomach lurches when he notices three little green fingers curled around a corner of your old blanket. The kid leans over to frown at the second passenger seat. Empty.

“I know, buddy. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” His voice is wrecked, the sound of it so harsh through the modulator that even he flinches.

Din’s still not completely sure that the child understands him, but his little ears droop down at the apology and he wraps himself up as best he can in your blanket. Five minutes and you’ve charmed the little thing. Din isn’t sure why he’s surprised, you did the same to him all those years ago.

The kid settles back down to sleep in his lap, curled up in the thinning fabric, and one of Din’s gloves hits the floor before he even realises that he’s slipped it off. The wool is a little stiff with age under his fingers, but it’s been well loved. And been well loved on if his memory serves. He wonders if it smelt of him afterwards. If you spent nights curled up in it, trying to inhale the last memento you had of him before he saw you again, the same way he spent so many nights wallowing in his own memories. He used to wish he had something physical with him to keep close, the cruel irony of your forgotten blanket doesn’t go unnoticed now.

Part of him wants to bring it back. A peace offering, maybe. He wants to let you get to know the kid better, to help him on his quest to find his home. Or maybe just to stay, like you asked. But he fucked it all up. You’d probably slam the door of your little home in his face now. Honestly? He’s pretty sure it’s the least he deserves. He wouldn’t be surprised if you pulled a blaster on him with all the ways he’s hurt you.

It feels like grief. The way the sorrow settles on your chest, curling it’s cold hands around your lungs and squeezing. You hope it chokes you, if only so you don’t have to feel like this anymore. You curl up on the kitchen floor, the cold tile freezing through your clothes, and wonder if this is it.

Kes finds you there, hours after the door was slammed and the sun has set.

“Is there something wrong with me?” You can’t help but ask, you can’t help but wonder. Because even through the pain and the silence and the arguments, you still love Din. Maybe you always will. But you’re not sure it matters anymore. Kes looks at you, confused, and you press on.

“I mean, I laid out how I feel so many times and all he ever did was push it away but- but I know that if he walked in that door right now I’d let him back in.”

“I think that’s love, kiddo.” He sinks down to join you on the floor, and if the chill of the tile raises goosebumps on his arms, he doesn’t mention it.

“Love is stupid,” You pause when he shoots you a look, “No offence to you and your ridiculously happy marriage, but this sucks.”

You sound like a child, you know that. Just like you know that things with Din were always going to end the way they have. You’ve always known you came second to his creed, so much so that you can’t even bring yourself to be angry about it anymore. The alternative is to cry until you lose your voice, so childish seems like the way to go.

“What?” You huff. Kes is watching you carefully, in that pensive way that he does when he’s about to call your bluff in sabacc and take the game. Like he always does.

“I’m not sure you really think that.”

He’s right on the money yet again, the fucking asshole.

A fresh wave of tears stings your eyes. thankful at least that Kes has found a spot on the floor to look at instead of turning those big sad eyes onto you. You’re not sure you could take it. It’s frustration at yourself, mostly, instead of just the heartbreak of being left behind so willingly. So angrily. What is it about you that made the idea of sticking around so repulsive, so disgusting, that he left without a second thought. You thought he loved you, you really did. But you’ve been wrong about things before. However much you hate it.

“I can’t stay here. I can’t.”

“I know.” Kes’s eyes lift from the floor finally, settling uncertainly on yours.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I- I want to be close to you guys but,” You flounder for a moment, desperate to think up a reason, “I just can’t be here.”

He understands, you know he does. You’ve all lost enough people, physically and emotionally, to know when a place is no longer welcoming. And you do, genuinely, love the little house on the edge of their land. You love the way the sun hits through the kitchen window in the late afternoon, you love the way you can hear the birds in the trees when you wake in the morning, you love the way any of them can drop by anytime they want to. But it’ll always be the site of the last time you loved Din, the last time he kissed you. Ground zero of your relationship. If you could even call it that.

“I’ll be alright. I’ve been without him before.”

You have, you’ve been without Din. You’ve spent years without hearing the comm you gave him so much as click. You’ll be alright. In time.

Only, there were never arguments before. All those times you left, or he left, he’d never shouted at you the way he did. You’d never felt the rage he keeps so carefully locked away, not with you in the crosshairs anyway. It sends your stomach churning, remembering the way he denied you so easily.

You eye the pouch of credits on the table, just visible over the top of Kes’s head. Why would he leave something like that behind? The Crest is falling apart, he’s got the kid to think about now, why would he forsake a payday for someone he’d so readily abandon.

The dam breaks, and your brave face along with it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Kes shuffles over to sit closer, to draw you into his arms and let you cry it out on his shoulder. So, in turn, you let yourself feel it. Properly. Sobbing until you’re half asleep, breath hitching every now and again, and the sun starts to rise.

You don’t know why Din left the credits there, and it feels odd to think about using them when he’s the reason this house isn’t a home anymore. But he could never give you much, and despite everything you know he’s never been a heartless man intentionally, maybe this is his way of making up for that. A clean slate.

The first thing he thinks of as Din comes to, only seconds after the e-web cannon explodes in his face, is you. Of course it is.

You with your feet up beside you on the passenger seat and the child in your arms, wrapped up and snoring softly. No idea of what was coming. It’s that image that stays at the forefront of his mind, even through the pain of being dragged across the ground into the almost safety of the destroyed cantina.

That’s the view he wants, regardless of however futile it is to realise that now. Regardless of the fact that he’s dying and you’re not here. You don’t even know. Maybe you wouldn’t care if you did. He wouldn’t be surprised.

But he gave it up for what? For this? Denied himself and the kid safety and a life just for both of them to die on the grotty floor of the cantina on Nevarro. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Maybe he always has been, for refusing you at every turn, refusing to let himself give in and reassess and have the life he’s so desperately wanted with you for years now. Who is he, without his creed?

Yours. He knows that now.

There’s something profoundly wrong about you not being there as the blood trickles down the back of his neck and soaks into his clothes. As he hands off the child to the people he’s come to think of as his friends and trusts them to do the one thing he can’t.

“Take him to Yavin,” He tells them, desperately, “Find the little house at the end of the farm track.”

You’ll take care of the kid, despite everything. You’ll take him in without a question, in a heartbeat. The same way you so effortlessly ingrained Din into your life when you first met. Even if it was accidental on both sides.

Din can’t stop himself, as the IG unit lifts his helmet, from remembering the way you did the same. This feels so clinical, mechanical. There’s nothing of the warmth and reverence that had been in your touch. Even this close to death, it’s like his bones themselves are calling your name.

“What do you think?” Your voice echoes in the empty space. The smell of fresh sawdust is strong in your nose, but you don’t mind. It’s oddly comforting, as though the shop was built just for you. The sound of little footsteps pound over the upper floor and a messy mop of curls appears over the top of the railing.

“I love it. Can I live here too?” Poe grins cheekily.

“Your parents might have something to say about that, buddy.”

He thunders down the stairs beside the little back office and comes to a skidding halt in front of you, kicking up a little dust in his wake. You catch him easily, whirling him around in a circle as he laughs. The way the sound fills the space starts to stitch the edges of your heart back together. Maybe this is what you need to do, fill a new space with light and laughter and the people you love. Somewhere to exist, somewhere to grow. The workshop seems like a good place to start.

A child of The Watch.

What does that even mean?

His covert, his family, it’s- it’s not a cult. It can’t be. The way she talked about it, like even the thought left a bad taste in her mouth, sends a shot of anger down his spine. He is not a religious zealot. But, would he know if he is?

Is he?

Din’s never had cause to doubt his creed, or his covert. They saved him, rescued and raised him. They taught him to fight and to protect and to provide for the covert. Foundlings are the future, right? Would he be less, maybe, to those born on Mandalore? To people like Bo-Katan who wear the armour from generations past, who fought to defend their homeland and their clans. Din doesn’t wear ancestral armour, but has he not defended his family with his life? Ancient way or not, it seems like the kind of thing that would be important in any kind of Mandalorian culture. Traditionalist or otherwise.

No one has seen his face since he was a child. And yet, he still took off his helmet, every time, for you and believed he was breaking his creed. Sure, you never saw his face, but does that matter? Is it not the principal of the thing? Then there’s the glaring evidence that there are Mandalorians who can remove their helmets. What does that make him, if he’s neither followed the letter of the creed or whatever rules Bo-Katan has.

With the kid safely tucked away and snoring in his little hammock, Din pulls the helmet off and glares at his distorted reflection in the curve of the visor. He can feel your hands on him like you’re there, smoothing over his shoulders and curling around his waist. And as all the tension melts from his body, he knows what you’d say. That he is himself. Din Djarin, and it’s up to him what he wants that to mean. Whether it includes Mandalorian or not. Whatever he wants to be is what he is and you’d never love him less for it.

Love him.

He scoffs at himself. There’s no way you feel like that about him now.

“Can you reach right up in that corner?”

You’d let Poe pick the colour for the walls of the main attic space, and so he and his dad are flecked in bright orange paint as they swirl brushes over the wood they’d primed yesterday.

Kes has him on his shoulders, fully in charge of the high up sections as he’d so politely asked, while you and Shara are screwing together the fittings for the kitchen units. A pastel blue this time, also chosen by Poe. Although Shara had kindly guided him away from the neon purple cupboard doors that had caught his eye with a quick wink at you. Maybe giving a small child free reign over your interior decorating was a bad idea. But he’d proven to have quite an eye on some things.

The four of you had travelled all the way to an inner rim market to find your furniture, deciding on a deep red fabric couch that fit all of you comfortably and takes a considerable amount of effort to rise from. It’s been pushed back against the half wall that hides the attic living space from the workshop floor. Your bedroom furniture is brand new as well, all light polished wood and soft bedding. The credits Din had abandoned had gone a long way, almost long enough that you can forget where they came from. Sometimes.

It hits you again, cross legged on the floor as Shara hands you another piece to slot into place, that there should be an extra pair of hands. Pulling more pieces out of crates or rearranging the layout in the bedroom or hanging lampshades. It’s nice to be making this new house into a home with your family, but there’s still a gaping hole where there should be someone else.

A warm hand settles on your knee, breaking your focus from where it’s settled at the top of the staircase. Shara. You turn to her with a smile, and blink back a wave of tears when she returns it. You have your family, right here, you don’t need him. You don’t need him.

“Get down!” Shara calls, just as a shadow looms over you.

Poe’s feet swing over your heads and he laughs when Shara just misses grabbing his ankle, Kes lifting him deftly out of the way at the last second. This is what your life is supposed to be, definitely. The sound of everybody else’s laughter lifts the weight off of your shoulders just enough for you to breathe, to laugh along with them. For a little while.

Din loses everything in a matter of moments. Everything.

Methodically searching through the ashes of the Razor Crest, of the only home he had left, is the final barrier between him and the guilt about the child. About Grogu. The kid’s become his, undeniably, and he couldn’t do the one thing a father is supposed to do. Gideon has him at his mercy, has Din at his mercy now. Whatever the Moff and Dr Pershing have in store, it’s not good. The kid might not even survive.

All he can see is his little face, his little arms reaching out as the droid climbed higher and higher towards the cruiser. What kind of a father is he, to just let his son be taken from him? No man who would so willingly see the child in his care delivered to his doom deserves to be called such a thing.

Din kicks the dust at his feet in frustration, all too aware of the new eyes watching him. Grief is a difficult thing in and of itself, it’s even harder when it’s observed. He feels like an exhibit. Sure, the two of them stayed and defended the child without even being asked to, but that doesn’t mean he wants them sitting and watching as he sifts through the ruins of his life.

Fitting, really, that the one way he always thought he would keep you in his life went up in flames, exploded in much the same way your relationship did. That was his fault too.

But it’s all gone now. The Razor Crest, his home, Grogu’s bed, your old blanket. Grogu and you. Maybe for good, maybe this is his life now, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get either of you back. Maybe he’ll launch a rescue mission only to find his son dead and hitch a ride to Yavin only to be turned away at your door. Maybe that’s what he deserves.

“Thanks!” You call as the couple stroll out of the main doors and into the sunshine, newly repaired pit droid trotting after them.

“Which one goes to this one again?” Poe catches your attention, waving the motor over his head. He’s sitting on the desk in the back office, little eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You’ve been teaching him small mechanic things here and there on his days with you. How to wire a basic console, how to program a droid, how a hyperdrive motivator works. You’d taken him out with you on a call once, so you could show him the different engine parts of a ship that his mother doesn’t treasure. Today, it’s hotwiring lessons.

Kes and Shara had pretended to disapprove when you asked them what they thought about it, and they still would if Poe was the one to bring it up. But the larger community on Yavin still sleeps far too lightly, still sleeps far too little. The kids are learning their history and their life skills, but alongside basic combat and strategy lessons. The older kids can enroll in weapons training and piloting lessons. The war will never fully leave this moon so long as it stands.

“Which one do you think?” You ask, settling down into the chair with your datapad and a mountain of forms to fill out. Poe ponders for a moment, glancing between your expectant expression and the dead motor in his hands.

“This one?” He touches the exposed wires together carefully, huffing when nothing happens.

“No, wait! This one!” The little motor whirrs to life the moment the wires make contact, and subsequently dies again when he drops it to throw his arms up in celebration. You catch it before it can hit the floor and burst into pieces, your own smile wide enough to make your cheeks ache.

You’re living. For the first time in years you’re living, without watching over your shoulder for the Empire, without wondering when you’ll see Din again. You’re spending time with your best friends’ kid and making a living as the town mechanic. You have regular customers and people who drop by just to say hi, and things don’t seem so bad anymore. Even though there’s a gap inside of you that aches and misses him, you’re starting to be at peace with it.

He doesn’t know why he was so stupid as to think the facial scan might work with the fucking helmet on. And now the terminal won’t stop beeping and he’s pretty sure people are looking over at him and there’s only one option left and- fuck it.

Din’s hands shake as he lifts the plastic helmet off, the habit of a usually much heavier one makes the movement almost too forceful, and he sets it down.

This is wrong. It feels so wrong. The first time any living being has seen his face since he was a child and it’s a room full of Imperials. The organisation that took his parents from him, that massacred whole planets and drove his people underground, that you have spent your whole life fighting against. He feels sick.

It was supposed to be you. He’s thought about it a lot, since the first time you took him to that little house on Yavin. He envisioned standing in the bedroom, curtains thrown open to soak up the last of the afternoon sun, and you’d smile at him in that way you always did. He would pull you close to press his forehead against yours, he would take your hands and bring them up to close around the lip of his helmet. He’d tell you it was okay, and you’d lift it off together. You’d smile, maybe a stray tear would linger in the corner of your eye, and you’d finally get to see him. You’d trace your fingertips along his cheekbone and press a kiss on the little spot on his jaw where the hair doesn’t grow. You’d tell him you always thought he had brown eyes. He’d tell you you’re beautiful. And then he’d kiss you, and you’d let him.

The terminal beeps again and Din pulls the drive from the port, just in time to turn and face an Imperial Officer.

Your head is in an engine hatch when you hear one of the wide metal doors at the front of the shop creak open.

“We just closed up, but you can swing by in the morning if it isn’t an emergency!” You call, and hope your voice carries to whoever is standing in your doorway. You don’t really have the time for a customer, this speeder repair is already a day late because you were watching Poe last night, but Yavin is a community.

However long it took you to get used to after being back on the station, it’s almost like being a part of the rebellion again. Everybody works together to make things a little easier for everyone else. You hear a shuffle of footsteps, slowly edging closer to you, and you’re about to call out again when they say your name.

When he says your name.

You hit your head on the hatch as you pull yourself out of it.

“No.”

You can’t do this. You can’t.

All the work you’ve done to piece your broken little heart back together starts to unravel, just seeing him standing in your workshop. Every staple and stitch and strip of tape loosens until there’s nothing left and that gap inside you, the one that sits right under your heart, starts to ache something fierce.

How dare he.

How dare he think he can walk into the one place that you have, the one place in the whole galaxy that doesn’t stink of betrayal and heartache and him. How dare he think he can disturb the life you’ve begun to build without him, however much it hurt. There are nights where you don’t think of him now. Nights where you don’t wake in the middle of dreams of his touch and his voice and his kisses. And now he’s here and all of your work was for nothing.

“Please-”

“No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come back and undo everything. You can’t.” At least your voice is steadier than you feel, as you square your shoulders and plant your feet in a vain attempt to stay upright. Or to stop yourself running right back into his arms.

“I know.”

No, that’s what breaks the final piece of your heart off. The heart that belongs to him anyway. It always has, even when you didn’t want it to. He sounds so broken.

“Did you leave the baby on the ship again?”

You don’t miss the way his shoulders tighten, just barely, or how his fingers twitch nervously.

“The ship’s gone. So is- so is the kid,” Din takes a shuddering breath, “I lost everything.”

Everything? What does that even mean? Your stomach flips at the thought of what he might mean, that the kid is gone. You’re almost afraid to ask. And you hate the painful tug in your chest when his knees give out and he hits the concrete floor with a thud. There’ll be bruises in the morning.

“He’s with a Jedi, he’s with his people but-” He gestures vaguely, and you know what he means. You felt the same way every time he left you. If the kid’s a Jedi, he probably should be in the care of people who know what to do. But you can’t imagine how it must have felt to just hand the baby over.

“He’s where he belongs.” You’re trying to stay cold, you really are.

“Is he?”

It’s hard to be cruel to a man who’s just given up his kid. To a man you love.

He says your name again, softly, tearfully. The shudder of a sob ripples through his body and he heaves a deep breath at the same time you do. You can feel it creeping back, every uncertainty you had the day he walked out of your old house. Every bone in your body screams for you to reach out to him, to comfort him the way he should have comforted you when he left you crying for him on your kitchen floor. He can’t be here. You have to make him go.

“Mando-”

“My name, please use my name.” He interrupts you, desperately. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t hear you call him Mando. It never sounded right, not the way his real name does when you roll it around on your tongue. He needs to hear it.

“Din, you can’t stay.”

It’s so hard to hold steady, to keep your voice even, to not just throw it all away and gather him into your arms the way you want to. The way you need to. You were right, all those months ago, when you told Kes you’d take him right back if he walked through the door.

“You’re home, you know that? It’s you.”

You say nothing, for fear your words will crack and give you away.

“And- and every time I left or you left it just, nothing felt right. Not until we were together again, and it scared me. And I hurt you because of it, that’s my fault.” He sighs, defeated, but continues on when you stay silent.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I- it’s inexcusable. I don’t know how to- how to fix it. I don’t know if I can,” Din hangs his head in shame, “You should hate me. I do. I pushed you away and hurt you, when all I ever wanted was you. Just you.”

It’s not enough to soothe the scars in your heart, the ones that settled deep and angry and split open time and time again. The ones he put there. But maybe there’s room to make a start.

“I don’t hate you,” You press on even as his head shoots up in surprise, “Against all my better judgement, I love you. Pretty sure I always have.”

It’s quiet for a long time. And you think this is when he tells you he’s not good enough for you, that he never will be, and he leaves for the very last time. You know you won’t see him again if he does, but he’ll take your heart with him anyways.

“Cyar’ika.” He breaks the silence. Again. But it’s softer than the last time you were in this position.

“You’ve called me that before.”

“I’ve called you that a lot of times, you were only awake once.”

“What does it mean?” You’re almost afraid to know the answer.

He lifts his hand to his shoulder, to a pauldron with an unusual skull welded to it, and detaches the mechanism. It clatters to the floor, but Din’s gaze remains firmly locked on yours. He does the same with the other and lifts the bandolier over his head. That too is abandoned on the ground.

“Sweetheart.” His vambraces, this time. One, two clang as they hit the floor, followed by his thigh plates.

“Darling.” The chest plate.

He’s kneeling, surrounded by his armour, by the definition of the man you thought he was. All but the helmet. You love him, you can’t deny that. He’s baring himself to you in ways he never has before and you know what it means to him to do this.

“Beloved.”

Your brain stops working. You were so ready to shout and scream and punish him for what he put you through but suddenly none of it matters. Because he’s here, he’s finally here, and he’s telling you he loves you and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Take it off, please?”

And so you do.

Your feet are moving towards him before you can even register what they’re doing and you haul him up off of the ground. Din winds his arms around you automatically, without a second thought, until there isn’t a breath of air left between your bodies. No armour, no barriers, just two people who have done far too much damage to each other to ever know anyone else the way you do.

His eyes. Oh god, his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, careful not to disturb the peace that’s settled. Finally, finally.

“That’s my line.” He chuckles as you smile, as you feel that gap in your ribs quiet after all these years. An unfilled space, no longer.

Din kisses you, and you let him.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @rebloogggs @keeper0fthestars @remmysbounty @sirianisrock @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @altarsw @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44

#lacuna #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #fic #liz does words #oh my god........oh my god its over #sfw

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (19) || atz

You watch from the mast as Nassau comes into sight.

The past few days have been spent gearing up for the plan. To disguise the ship, you and the crew have all slaved away on your journey to Seonghwa’s hometown, taking down the distinct blue square sails of the ship and rigging the masts with patchy, torn sails grey from age.

Over the last few days, you and Wooyoung have gotten much closer from working together in the sails all the time. The head gunner had taken one look at your face after your incident with Yeosang and offered to sit with you in the crow’s nest until you felt better. Although you had been boiling over with fury, ready to push him away, he simply told you that he wouldn’t ask any questions.

He wasn’t smiling when he said that, so you agreed.

Yeosang never came to apologize, the coward.

The two of you had merely sat quietly in the crow’s nest, watching the sun set and the stars come out at night. Half the time you had expected Wooyoung’s mouth to open his mouth with some dumb question, but he had just remained silent the entire time, not even looking at you in the least. The two of you simply watched sky and sea become one, both melding into a single canvas of inky black, the stars both above and reflected beneath you. And you had thought long and hard about what you’d said to Yeosang.

I hate you.

You’d used the worst word you could have possibly have. You weren’t just angry with him. You didn’t just immensely dislike him. You had completely lost your damn mind.

Yeosang, one of the quietest and purest people to ever walk the earth and sail the sea. The silent, kind and all knowing navigator who you spotted talking to the birds in the harbor of Tortuga because he was so fascinated by them. The man who’d only ever shown you kindness and given you comfort. The one who never hesitated to help you no matter what your requests were and answered your questions about anything and everything. You’d told him that you hated him.

“I think I screwed something up.” You’d told Wooyoung, head resting against his shoulder. One thing you’d learned about Wooyoung was that he loved physical contact, craved it even, as long as you didn’t surprise him with it. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you close to stay warm in the crisp night air.

“You just noticed?” The tone of his comment was anything but snark, and he didn’t say a word more. You’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, as if hoping his warmth could fend off the guilt and frozen anger in you.

The next morning when you had woken up, he was still there in the same position, one arm around you, watching the sunrise.

For the duration of the trip to Nassau, you hadn’t spoken to Yeosang once. Even though the two of you had bumped into each other rather frequently, Yeosang had just lowered his head and brushed past you like you weren’t there, and you had done the same.

You were still too angry to talk rationally to him.

I hate you.

You were still too confused to ask him why he would do this to you.

I hate you.

You were still too ashamed to face him for what you had said.

In an attempt to escape him, you’d simply juggled between staying in the rigging or cooking in the kitchens. San had asked you repeatedly about why your face had been so down during your lessons together, but you honestly didn’t know how to answer him.

So you simply hadn’t.

“Chin Hae?”

You turn absentmindedly on the yardarm to face Wooyoung as he makes his way to you, swinging between ropes as he settles next to your side. The two of you have finished your task in taking down the orange and black ATEEZ flag and carefully ripping holes in the sails, so you have nothing to do for now.

“Will everything really be okay?” You ask him quietly. You don’t like where this plan is going at all.

Wooyoung merely shrugs with a matter-of-fact smile as he glances at the dark shape that is Nassau begins to grow in size. “I trust captain. And even if it doesn’t turn out okay, I stick with the crew. They’ll never abandon us.”

You nod. Even if you’re not really very positive about where this plan is going, you’ll stay with the ship and its crew.

The plan, in fact, is to infiltrate Nassau as a merchant ship running from pirates. The cannons have been stowed in a special hidden space right beneath the main deck, and the weapons kept away in a compartment in the main hold.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Chin Hae! Wooyoung-ah!” Mingi calls from the main deck and you look down to see the quartermaster standing there. He looks equally as tense as you are, mouth pressed into a line. “Captain wants to see you to go over the plan one last time.”

You nod. Both you and Wooyoung leap from the rigging, sliding down easily with leather gloves on your hands and landing as lightly as a cat. If Yunho had the opportunity to see you instead of practicing his role in the plan, he’d definitely be proud of you.

The two of you move to the cabin, silently trailing the quartermaster quietly. There’s a tense silence over the deck as the crew merely watch the town of Nassau come closer and closer in sight. Everybody knows what the consequences are if the authorities see through your ploy.

The Treasure will be burnt to ashes.

The crew will be hung.

And yet none of them are backing down.

Your footsteps barely make sound on the wooden floorboards as you step into the captain’s cabin after Wooyoung. The door swings shut behind you and the two of you greet Yunho quietly, who’s seated on the bed silently rehearsing his lines.

Hongjoong turns from coaching Yunho and turns to the two of you. The first thing you notice is the dark circles beneath your captain’s eyes, as if he hasn’t slept in days, which is probably true. He’s carrying all your lives on his shoulders with this plan, and should it go wrong every single one of you will be strung up like dried fish in the marketplace.

You swallow uncomfortably at the thought and stand a little straighter in front of the captain’s desk.

The plan is scribbled down everywhere, on sheets of paper littered around the desk. Some you recognise as your captain’s calligraphy, some as Mingi’s scribbles, and the rest as Yeosang’s neat notes.

You force your eyes away from them.

“When we get to Nassau, it’ll be around evening.” Hongjoong jerks a thumb at Yunho, who’s rereading his script with the most haunted, terrified look you’ve seen. It’d make you worry, but you’ve already seen the careful construction that goes on behind this facade and know it’s nothing more than an act. “There’ll be an official coming to check the ship, so don’t be shocked when it happens.”

As Hongjoong and Mingi have discussed, the only literate people on this ship are Hongjoong, Mingi, Seonghwa, San, Yunho, Yeosang and you. Hongjoong is much too striking with his eye patch, so he can’t be the one the ship presents as captain when the ship enters the port of Nassau. Mingi’s out because of his deep blue hair.

San is needed on board as a healer, Seonghwa’s face is probably still on an arrest warrant in Nassau, and Yeosang simply doesn’t have a presence commanding enough to be a captain. You, too, have no idea how port authorities work, so the only one left to the role is Yunho.

It is strange to see your captain not in his usual red jacket, his signature look has been swapped out for a more unassuming white shirt and trousers. But no matter what he dresses in, he still exudes authority with every action and you hang on to every word he says.

“Yeosang and Seonghwa have done a map of where the official lives. It’s a small estate surrounded by a few houses in which the townspeople live. Do you remember his name?”

“Lucio Bartholomew.” Wooyoung echoes from memory. Hongjoong nods confirmation.

“You’ll need to infiltrate the estate from the back wall under the cover of night. Find out how many guards there are, where his office is and come right back.”

The head gunner inclines his head in understanding.

Then the captain turns to you, his eyes softening.

“Are you prepared?”

You nod. There’s a fear pulling at you from the inside, and you’re terrified as well.

Because you’re going on this mission too.

That’s why you’ve been spending so much time on the masts and rigging, learning how to move along ropes, to scale them as quickly and silently as possible. As the only other literate person on board who doesn’t have any outstanding physical traits for the town watch to recognize you by, your role in this mission is to read the plaques and clues around you to find Lucio Bartholomew’s room.

You’re also the only one light enough for Wooyoung to work with when using the grappling hook, thus you have been selected by the captain for this infiltration mission.

These five whole days in the rigging, you’ve memorized Wooyoung’s odd little cues and mannerisms, learning how to communicate with him silently without sound, familiarizing yourself with the way he moves. The two of you will need to move in absolute tandem, be of the same mind, before you can succeed on this mission.

The pressure is immense.

“This reminds me of those ninja I heard about before from Japan.” Wooyoung tries to smile, but it comes out more forced than reassuring. Hongjoong stands and inclines his head to the two of you.

“Thank you for doing this, Wooyoung, Chin Hae.” He says so seriously that you feel a lump growing in your throat. Everyone knows how risky this mission is, how dire the consequences will be if you fail. You won’t only be captured, but also jeopardize Seonghwa’s chances of ever getting to confront the official who’d killed his family.

“We’ll be fine.” You manage to lie through your teeth, trying to sound a lot more confident than you feel. Hongjoong’s eye shifts over to the head gunner next to you.

“Take care of Chin Hae, Wooyoung.”

Your captain’s care warms you for a short moment despite your mounting terror at what may be your a terrible fate. Wooyoung meets his captain’s gaze evenly.

“I will, Hongjoong-hyung.” No syllable is empty or void of intent. His words are a promise, a vow and an oath. “I’ll make sure he comes back alive.”

The captain holds the two of you by the shoulders, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion for a moment. “I wish you all the luck the world can offer. If my blessing could be of any use, I hope it will be on the two of you as well.”

The three of you fall silent for a moment, suddenly too aware of the fact that this may be the last time are seeing each other. Then Wooyoung looks up, sniffing the air once. You know what that means.

You’ve reached port.

Not a second later, the bell of the ship rings. You hear Mingi’s voice from the main deck, and Yunho stiffens uncomfortably, looking like a lamb that has just been sent to the slaughterhouse.

“We’ve arrived at Nassau!”

“Good luck, Yunho-hyung.” You say as brightly as you can, which isn’t much. Yunho smiles nervously, throwing the script into a drawer built into the captain’s desk as he fidgets uncomfortably, adjusting the collar of his silk shirt befitting the captain of a merchant ship.

“I’ll try my best.” With that, the four of you step out onto the main deck.

Wooyoung’s hand slips into yours as the two of you make your way to the bow. “Are you nervous?” He whispers out of the side of his mouth. You feel the cold sweat of his palm, the way his fingers seem to be locked in place, and you know that he is anything but calm on the inside. You decide to be honest.

“So much I want to dive straight into the sea and swim back to Tortuga.” You murmur back. Now that is no lie.

The Treasure has begun to enter the port, pulling up against a dock. Men working at the harbor catch the mooring lines your crew tosses over the side, pulling you against the wharf. Mingi gives the order for the anchor to be dropped.

The gangplank is lowered and the harbor official steps aboard, followed by a squadron of twenty soldiers, all armed with bayonets and flintlock rifles. His skin is pale, almost white as porcelain, and his hair is a shade of striking platinum blonde, his uniform neat and tidy. The way his fingers dance on the hilt of his cutlass tells you he’s a man who’s seen many a battle, and that the gold patches at his shoulders are not merely for decoration. A bead of cold sweat trickles down your temple as you take your place between Jongho and Wooyoung.

Jongho gives you a reassuring smile, but you can see that his eyes are dark with anxiety.

“Who’s the captain of this ship?” The official demands coolly, eyes scanning the number of seamen before him. Yunho steps forward, Mingi and Yeosang flanking him.

“I am. My name is Donghae.” He bows to the official, one hand over his heart in a sign of respect and honour. “I’m the captain of the Heron, this is my quartermaster Jiho and my bosun Sungjin.”

“I didn’t ask for their names. My name is Yoongi, head of port inspection and lieutenant of the Royal Navy.” The official replies curtly. His eyes remind you of a hawk’s, scanning the deck for anything out of place like a bird of prey. This man will be a difficult one to fool. “What is your business at Port Nassau?”

“My crew and I were threatened by pirates.” Yunho answers, inclining his head as if ashamed. “I could only let them take what cargo I had on board.”

The official raises a sharp, well defined eyebrow as he takes in the sight of the crew. “A rather merciful pirate ship if it let you go unscathed.”

“We did not put up any fight, good sir.” Yunho explains, sounding tired and defeated, as if he’s really spent the day before surrendering to a pirate ship. “They threatened us with cannonfire, but we hoisted the white flag before they could fire on us.”

“Is that so?” The lieutenant’s eyes rake every one of the crew. When his ice cold eyes meet yours, you feel a shiver travelling down your spine. “They didn’t fire on you?”

“No, sir.” Yunho confirms, nodding his head. The official’s eyes darken minutely.

“Then what is your purpose here?”

“To restock on provisions and freshwater, as well as mend the sails on board the ship.” Yunho says as honestly as he can. It’s technically not a lie, but it’s definitely not the whole truth either.

The lieutenant’s face remains unreadable as he turns away to face his men.

“Jungkook!” A young officer salutes and moves over to his lieutenant.

“Sir?”

“Register the Heron in dock seven. The rest of you, move back to your stations.”

You very nearly sag in relief, but you manage to keep yourself upright from sheer will alone.

“Yes sir!” The soldiers chorus, turning back and marching down the gangplank, boots thundering on the gangplank.

Yoongi gives Yunho a piercing stare. “Move your ship to dock seven. There is to be no one leaving the ship from between the evening bell and the morning bell for the safety of this town and its citizens. I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

He turns to leave, then pauses.

You see the lieutenant glance back at you for a moment, raising his nose to sniff the air. Then he whirls around and leaves.

Once the deck clears of the officials, you slump against Jongho, who pats you on the back comfortingly. You hadn’t even realised how terrified you had been until the ordeal was over, leaving you feeling boneless and weak.

The entire crew breathes a sigh of relief.

Yunho manages to shoot his captain a feeble grin, but he looks like he’s just been run over by a horse and then the cart the horse was drawing. “Phase one down.”

That night, you’re changing into a dark attire in your room with San’s eyes respectfully averted. You’re numb, what you’re about to do doesn’t feel quite real to you except for the terror slowly creeping up your legs. You fasten the clasp at the neck, before throwing a motley brown cloak around you to hide the bulge of the grappling rope tied at your waist.

“I’m done.” You breathe to San, and your master turns to you, passing you the silver hairpin in his hand. You tuck it in your belt, before looking at the healer. His face is completely unreadable, and for once, you find it difficult to interpret the look in his eyes.

Remember to smile.

You try to pull your lips upwards, desperate to ease the worry from his shoulders. “How do I look, master?”

Suddenly, San lunges forward, throwing his arms around you in a massive, rib crushing hug that seems impossible for a man so lithe. You can’t see his face because it’s buried in your shoulder, but you can feel the way his arms are trembling even as he tries to steady himself.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me safe and in one piece, alright?” His voice is just a little hoarse, cracking from raw emotion and vulnerability. You’ve never taken the time to fully appreciate how close you’ve gotten to San, what the green haired healer means to you. Your benefactor, your partner in crime, your master, your family. He is almost like flesh and blood to you at this point, your relationship as a master and apprentice nearly unbreakable.

But you don’t have the time to tell him what he has come to mean to you, so instead you return the hug as tightly as possible.

“I can’t promise that.” You’ve never lied to your master before, and you don’t intend to start making it a habit now. “But I will do my best to come back to you alive.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, before someone knocks on the door gently. “Hey.” Jongho’s head peeks in through the doorway and the two of you slowly untangle from the hug. “It’s time to go.”

You give him the best smile you can muster and move over to the maknae, whose head is downcast. But something seems to weighing heavily on his shoulders, and you frown.

“What is it, Jongho-hyung?”

“If only-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying again. “If only I could read… I could have gone in your place. I don’t… I don’t want you to be in danger.”

You feel a gentle warmth stirring in you in spite of your fear.

“Thank you, Jongho-hyung.” You press him into a quick hug. The young battlemaster stiffens slightly upon the contact, but then squeezes you back tightly before releasing you. “But I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but nods anyway. “Stay safe.”

It’s with their well wishes that you make your way up the main deck.

Wooyoung’s waiting for you at the stern of the ship with the Captain, Mingi and Yeosang. He’s dressed similarly to you, all in black with a brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. Mingi gives you a black scarf to tie around your neck.

“Don’t get recognized.” He warns you, but you see the concern etched in his face. You take the strip of black cloth gratefully. Then you see Yeosang at the side, looking a little hesitant, still afraid to speak to you. Your heart squeezes painfully with anguish.

“Chin Hae-” He begins to say, but you turn to Wooyoung before he can finish his sentence. The navigator falls silent behind you.

You force yourself to concentrate at the task at hand. Wooyoung’s already thrown a rope over the starboard, the side of the ship facing away from the port and the prying eyes of the watch. You sling your leg over the side and look down into the inky dark sea, and for some reason, you don’t feel scared anymore.

This is just like the rigging lines. Just like you’re on the main mast again, playing around with Wooyoung and Yunho.

Maybe the adrenaline is finally kicking in. Or you’re just too scared to feel it anymore.

“We’ll be going now.” You tell them seriously. Hongjoong’s eye fixes on yours.

“All the best, the two of you.” Then he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “Come back to me alive. That’s an order.”

A small, fond smile twitches on your lips and the two of you echo together. “Yes, captain.”

Then the two of you slide down the rope into the sea, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,598)

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Part Three: Wilbur

Wilbur oversleeps.

He doesn’t mean to. He never means to. But he does, and when he wakes up and finds the sun halfway to its peak, definitely mid-morning rather than the predawn he was hoping to find, it serves as a shock to his system, and all he can think is, shit. Because sure, he’s been pretty fucking exhausted lately, but that’s no excuse. He’s supposed to be the leader here, and leaders can’t lead when they’re sleeping.

And gods above know what Tommy’s managed to get into this morning, or what Dream’s done, because Dream’s been suspiciously quiet over the past few days and there could be an attack at any moment now, and shit, shit, shit.

He fumbles his way through dressing, tries to neaten his hair, fails utterly, and gives up and pulls his beanie on over it. Not very professional, but it’s fine. This is fine. He can’t hear any screams, so nobody’s dying. Probably.

He steps outside of the hastily-constructed house he claimed for his own, and it’s less of a house, really, than a single room with walls and a roof liable to cave in at any second, but it serves for now, and he never claimed to possess his father’s building prowess. There will be time for infrastructure development after independence is secured. But he steps outside, squinting against the sunlight, and finds—everything in order. Everything looks fine. Nothing is on fire, except for the ever-burning camarvan. The walls still stand.

That should be his next step. The walls.

He climbs his way up, surveying the area. The surrounding lands appear just as they were left last night. No ominous structures set up. No fucking TNT cannons. All is calm, peaceful, and he has learned not to trust peace, these past few weeks, but if everything is alright for now, he’ll accept it gladly. Even if it doesn’t last.

He sighs, bracing his hands against the battlements. All too often, these days, he’s found his mind wandering down paths they never would have before. He can’t help but wonder what Phil would think if he knew the full extent of what he’s up to. His father tried so hard, when he was younger, to shield him from war, from the legacy that he and his best friend laid out behind them. And Wilbur cannot blame him for that protectiveness; his first experience of war has only been a few weeks long, and he’s finding he doesn’t care for it, even if he’s discovered a knack for tactics.

The thing is, though, he’s always wanted a legacy of his own.

Phil always said that it would be through his music. He never told him that he had his doubts about that, that he loves his songs but that something in him always calls for more, something just out of reach, just beyond the crest of the next hill. He’s not sure his father knows how ambitious he really is, in the end.

He should probably write him. He’ll do it after the war is over. After he has a country to invite him to see. After he’s built something that his dad will be proud of. And if he leaves out the struggle it took to get it, nobody has to know but him, because it’s certainly better that Phil doesn’t.

“Hello, Wilbur,” Dream says, right by his ear, and he jerks, pulling his sword from his inventory in an instinctive motion. How he missed the bastard’s approach, he has no idea, but Dream is standing right there, right on the walls next to him, covered head to toe in netherite armor, smiling mask firmly affixed to his face. He holds no weapons yet, but Wilbur knows all too well how quickly that can change.

“You’re trespassing on L’Manberg property,” he snaps, trying to disguise the frantic racing of his heart. His feet shift into a ready stance, a movement that’s old hat by now, both from this war and from Technoblade’s training when he was a kid, even though the sword will never be his weapon of choice. “With armor on, too. You’re not allowed to wear armor within our borders.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers to try. Dream won’t obey. He never does. That’s why they’re at war in the first place.

But then, to his shock, Dream chuckles, inclining his head. And then, piece by piece, the armor disappears, accompanied by the familiar clink of metal landing in an inventory slot.

“Right, right,” Dream says, as if he hasn’t just blown all of Wilbur’s expectations out of the water. “Of course. I guess I really should be trying to get off on the right foot with you, here. Congratulations, by the way. I’m sure you were happy to hear the news.”

What is he—?

What is this? Is he trying psychological warfare now? Is that what this is? Because Wilbur has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Is he supposed to know what he’s talking about? Dream’s acting like he should know what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t particularly want to give him the upper hand by revealing that he does not, in fact, have any idea what he’s talking about.

“Thank you,” he manages, a beat too late, but Dream doesn’t seem to notice, just continues on blithely.

“I just figured we should set up an official meeting of some kind,” he says. “One country leader to another. Get some peace treaties drawn up, write some trade agreements, draw some official boundaries, all of that stuff. I’ll admit, I’ve never done any of that before, but it can’t be too hard, right?”

“Right, I’m sure,” Wilbur replies, nodding along. Because, what?

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” Dream continues, and he just keeps talking. “I can give you a day or two to settle in, get stuff in order. There’s no real rush, but we should get it done soon. I don’t want to leave anything up in the air. That’s not the kind of thing that promotes stability.”

“Of course,” he says.

Dream goes to say something else, and then stops, tilting his head again. This time, it’s less mocking, more curious. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?” he says, and the game is up. Wilbur feels caught, but he breathes deeply, fights off his rising blush, gathers up all his composure.

“I’ll be entirely honest,” he says. “I’ve got no idea what the shit you’re on about right now.”

He’s not expecting that to make Dream laugh. But he does, tossing his head back and carrying on, loud and long, and then it devolves into a tea kettle wheeze. Genuine amusement, then, though at what, Wilbur isn’t sure. He doesn’t appreciate being laughed at, but he can’t help but feel like there’s something going on here that’s going straight over his head. He doesn’t appreciate that very much, either.

“Oh my god,” Dream manages, as soon as he’s capable of speech, mirth still dancing in his voice, “he didn’t tell you? Still?”

Something icy gets its claws around his heart.

“Who didn’t tell me?” he demands. “Who didn’t tell me what?”

“Tommy,” Dream answers, and those claws squeeze. His heart skips several beats, and suddenly, he’s casting back in his mind to the last time he saw Tommy. It was last night, wasn’t it? Just last night? He sent him to bed, because Tommy often tries to take late watches, claims himself capable, but he’s not even quite sixteen yet. Wilbur may have pulled him into a war, but he’s still a teenager, and Wilbur’s going to do his damnedest to make sure he comes out of this as intact as possible. And that means getting enough sleep.

He looked fine, last night. He was fine. He has to be fine.

He’s moving before he realizes it, his hand fisting in the front of Dream’s hoodie.

“If you’ve done something to Tommy, I’m tossing you off this wall right here and now,” he snarls. “Don’t test me, Dream.”

A year ago, a month ago, he never would have pictured himself making a threat like that. Never would have imagined himself capable of following through. But he is different, now, from the way he started, different already, and there is a part of him, a part of him that whispers to him in crows’ voices, that is scared of what he will be by the time the war is done.

“I haven’t done anything to Tommy!” Dream protests, raising both hands, though he sounds unconcerned. “I swear, I haven’t. He gave us a really good chance to, last night, but we didn’t take it. You should thank us for that. It was pretty stupid, what he did.”

“Explain,” he demands. “Explain right now.”

Tommy’s a resourceful kid. He can picture him getting himself in and out of an altercation easily. But the way Dream says it, it’s like he put himself in the situation in the first place, like he sought it out, and what the hell was Tommy even doing, outside of the walls so late at night? The walls are there for a reason. The walls are there for protection. The walls are there to keep his people safe, because maybe he didn’t exactly set out to start a country, in the very beginning, but he’s going to see it through. By all the gods, he’s going to see it through.

If, that is, this kid doesn’t give him a heart attack first.

Dream shoves at his hand, and he lets him go without an argument. Dream takes a step back, putting a bit more space between them, and then leans against the wall.

“Tommy came to us last night,” he says, “and traded his discs for L’Manberg’s independence.”

It’s a simple sentence. A very simple sentence. But somehow, the words don’t make any sense.

“Congratulations, President Soot,” Dream says, and he knows, he knows the bastard is smiling under that mask. “I look forward to establishing relations between our countries,” and he isn’t, Wilbur knows that he isn’t, but he’s enjoying this because he’s just dropped a bomb on him and he knows it, because—

“Leave,” he rasps. “Get out.”

Dream does a little salute, short and mocking, and then hops over the side of the wall. Wilbur hopes he takes damage, hopes he breaks his fucking legs. The sound of water hitting the ground tells him that he doesn’t. He can’t even be upset about it, because his heart has jumped into his throat, pounding in his ears, and all of the words were fine individually, but all together, they’re too much to process.

Tommy gave up his discs. And now L’Manberg is free. Just like that, the war is over. And Tommy gave up his discs. Tommy walked straight into enemy territory without telling him and handed over his most prized possessions, all for the sake of L’Manberg’s independence. And he succeeded. He got it. He sacrificed something dear to him, something that Wilbur never would have asked him to give up, and he did it for them. For L’Manberg.

Giddiness is the first emotion that fills him, and next is pride. Because this—this is above and beyond. He never would have asked Tommy to trade away something so important to him, but somehow, he found it within himself to do it, and he got what he wanted from it. He got what they all wanted. Somehow, Tommy managed to end their struggles in one fell swoop, and they’re not related, neither by blood nor by adoption or anything like that, but Wilbur thinks that this must be the sort of pride an older brother feels when watching the younger grow up, watching the younger go on and accomplish great things.

They are free, and it is because of Tommy. He feels like he’s on cloud nine. He feels like he could fly.

And then reality crashes back in.

Tommy didn’t tell him that he was planning this. Tommy didn’t tell him, might not have told anyone at all, and that means he strolled straight into the arms of their bitter enemies, people who might have killed him without a second thought. No one has died yet, and he always intended to keep it that way, but the thought of Tommy alone, at night, creeping his way into the belly of the beast, sends a chill down his spine.

Tommy could have died. Tommy could have died, and he wouldn’t have known until he woke up this morning, woke up late, and saw the message on his comm. TommyInnit was slain by Dream.

And then, another thought occurs to him: Tommy hasn’t come to him. Hasn’t come to brag, hasn’t even come to just tell him, to tell him that he’s just single-handedly won their independence. And that is not a Tommy-like thing to do, to let something like that go unremarked upon.

Something is wrong. Dream might have lied. He could have hurt Tommy. Tommy could be injured right now. He doesn’t even know for sure that he made it back.

Tommy gave up his discs for L’Manberg.

It still barely makes any sense to him. But there’s no time to make sense of it. He rushes back down the wall as quickly as he can manage, and then it’s off through their settlement, eyes darting around, hoping for a glimpse of him. He checks Tommy’s house, first, the ramshackle, makeshift thing he’s been sharing with Tubbo until they can get better buildings erected, and he’s not there, and Tubbo isn’t either. The camarvan turns up nothing. He’s considering leaving L’Manberg entirely, going to check by Tommy’s other house, the one built into the hill, when Tubbo comes up beside him.

“Morning, Wilbur,” he says, and then frowns. “You alright, man? You’re kind of pale.”

“Tubbo,” he says, and grabs him by the shoulders. Maybe a bit too emphatically, because he suddenly looks a bit alarmed, but he’ll be concerned with that later. “Tubbo, have you seen Tommy today?”

Tubbo’s frown deepens. “I was coming to see if you knew where he was,” he says. “He was being a bit off last night. Think he had a nightmare or something. But he’s not with you?”

“No, he’s not.” With every word out of Tubbo’s mouth, he feels his own panic grow. It is one thing for Tommy to hatch some sort of plot and not tell him. That is—well, it’s not fine, but Tommy doesn’t tell him everything. But to keep Tubbo out of the loop? To, presumably, visit him before leaving and yet still not tell Tubbo what was going on? It’s unlike him. Very unlike him.

“Okay, well, he’s got to be around here somewhere,” Tubbo reasons, his brows creased. “L’Manberg’s only so big. Should we go look for him together, then?”

“Right,” he says. He breathes, in and out. Tubbo’s a good kid. Very sensible. Very down to earth. And he’s right, of course. Tommy has to be around here somewhere. Any other possibility is out of the question. “Right, of course, let’s go look.”

So they do. They take a systematic approach, first checking all the most likely places and then combing every inch of their land in a grid formation. Tubbo’s suggestion, again. But that turns up nothing, either, and he can feel the panic creeping back in, because what if he actually didn’t make it home? What if he was out there in the dead of night, distraught and alone, and something took advantage of that? What if some mob looked at him and recognized him for an easy kill?

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. There would have been a notification. But he could be injured somewhere, incapacitated, in pain and all alone, and he can’t let that happen, can’t let Tommy be hurt like that on his watch—

“Oh, wait,” Tubbo says, and pulls on his sleeve. “There he is.”

Wilbur jerks, and stares in the direction he’s pointing. And sure enough, Tommy’s there, right in front of the camarvan, and Eret too, it looks like. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt relief as pure as in this moment.

“Gods,” he breathes, and starts toward them, calling out, “Tommy!” And as he approaches, he gets the sense that something is off.

The first thing he notices is Eret’s expression. Pure, unbridled confusion, mixed with what perhaps might be something like anxiety. And the reason for that is clear enough: Tommy is holding their face very firmly in his hands. Which is bizarre, and Wilbur blinks a few times to make sure he’s seeing this right, because Tommy doesn’t—he doesn’t just do that. That is a gesture reserved only for people he is very, very close to. Tubbo gets that treatment. He’s been on the receiving end a couple of times himself, but not often. And he knows that Tommy and Eret get along just fine, are friends, just like all of them are, but he really didn’t think that the two of them were close enough for this. And judging by the look on Eret’s face, they didn’t think so either.

And Tommy is just standing there. Not speaking, not doing anything else. Just staring Eret in the eyes—or the glasses, rather—with a startling intensity.

“Tommy?” he asks, as soon as he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to shout. “Is everything alright?”

And Tommy startles. Withdraws his hands from Eret’s face as though he’s been burned. Turns to look at him, and Wilbur freezes in place, because just for a second—

There is fear on Tommy’s face.

He doesn’t understand what could have caused it. But it is undoubtedly there, only for a moment before it is smoothed away into something more neutral, if strained. And he hates it, hates it viscerally. He never wants Tommy to look at him with that expression on his face. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Ayup,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds—rough. Like he hasn’t slept at all. “Morning Wil, Tubso.”

It’s casual. Far too casual for what Wilbur has just learned, for the panic he’s felt for the past half hour or so, unable to find this kid, this kid who is basically his brother, for all he pretends to protest against the moniker. Tommy is his family. Tommy is his family, and he risked everything last night, gave up everything for the sake of Wilbur’s everything, his grand ideals, his great vision, and now he’s standing there like nothing at all has changed.

“Ayup, Tommy,” Tubbo says. “You feeling any better this morning?”

At Tommy’s side, Eret shifts uneasily. Their expression is still one of concern, and Wilbur wonders exactly how long Tommy had been standing there like that, or what their interaction even was to get them to that point in the first place. It’s confusing. He’s confused.

“I’m great,” Tommy says, and—no, no, they’re not going to do this.

“Tommy,” he breaks in, and Tommy stiffens. “Tommy, last night, why did you—you just—why wouldn’t you tell me?”

It’s not quite what he should be asking, but it’s what comes out. And his voice is annoyingly desperate, and he hates showing off so many emotions like this, especially in a public space, but he can’t stop himself.

“What about last night?” Tubbo asks.

“Last night?” Eret echoes, and looks to Tommy, who blinks, his gaze darting between the three of them but landing on Wilbur most of all, and it’s like he’s nervous, almost, anxious about how he’s going to react, and—does he think he’s going to be angry about this? Perhaps he is, but only in the sense that he’s angry that Tommy took such a stupid risk. Below that anger, that anger born of fear, his pride burns bright. Surely, Tommy must know that?

“I—look, I knew you’d say no, alright?” he says. “But I knew that I could do it, so I did it. Simple as that.”

Simple as that, he says. As if he didn’t give up his greatest possessions. As if he didn’t win them the war, win them their freedom, win for them the reality of the values that this country was founded upon.

“What’s going on?” Eret asks.

“Yeah, does this have something to do with what you were saying to me the other night?” Tubbo says, and then looks at him. “Wilbur, what are you talking about? What happened last night?”

Tommy sighs, and says nothing. Wilbur swallows, and maintains eye contact with him as he speaks, searching for some kind of reaction.

“Dream came to me this morning,” he says, and does not miss Tommy’s flinch at the name, “not even an hour ago. He said—he said that we were free. That the war was over, that L’Manberg was its own nation, that he wanted to set up a meeting for diplomatic ties and whatnot. He called me the president. And, um, he said that you won it for us, Tommy.” He pauses, just for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control. He mostly fails. “He said that you came to him, last night, and you traded your discs to him for L’Manberg’s freedom.”

“You did what?”

Tubbo’s voice is dismayed and disbelieving all at once. And Tommy flinches, draws into himself a little, and that’s not the reaction Wilbur would have expected, but literally none of this is what he would have expected.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding quiet, a bit defeated. “Yeah, I—I did. I knew he’d take the deal. And I just wanted—I wanted the war to be over, yeah? Before anybody got hurt. And I knew this would work, so I just went and did it.”

“You couldn’t have, though,” he finds himself saying, before he even know what he’s going to say next. “Maybe you could’ve guessed that he’d go for it, but—Tommy, what if they’d killed you? Taken what they wanted and killed you right then and there? I just—” He breaks off running a hand through his hair, remembering too late that he’s got his beanie on. His fingers dislodge it, and he readjusts it with more fervor than is necessary. “I just can’t believe you did that without telling someone. Without telling—” Me, he wants to say, but holds himself back. No matter his feelings regarding Tommy, the deep respect and even deeper love that has grown in him over the course of their friendship, he doesn’t have a monopoly on Tommy’s attention. Perhaps he would have preferred for Tommy to tell him, but he’d have settled for Tommy telling anyone.

“What, are you worried?” Tommy says, and Wilbur only spares a second to wonder why he sounds so disbelieving, because—

“Yes,” he bursts out. “Gods, Tommy! Dream came to me with this and my first thought was that you’d died! Or that you hadn’t made it back, that you were out there somewhere, alone and needing help, and I didn’t—Tommy. Tommy, please tell me you thought of this. Please tell me, tell me that you were prepared, at least. Tell me that you—” He cuts himself off again, shaking his head hard, and under any other circumstance, he would be kicking himself for the display, for the outburst of emotion, for the lack of eloquence, but he thinks he can be excused for the moment.

Tommy’s mouth works for a second.

“Oh,” he finally says, weakly. “Um, right. Sorry, Wilbur. No, I had it handled, trust me. Sorry, I didn’t, um. Didn’t mean to scare you like that. Sort of just—did it, y’know?”

“It’s okay,” he says, even though it kind of isn’t, because Tommy’s continued to shrink into himself, and he doesn’t want that. “It’s okay, Tommy, I’m just glad you’re okay. And, gods above, what you did—” He steps forward, then, unable to help himself, and takes Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy stares at him with wide eyes. “I never would have asked that of you. I couldn’t believe it when Dream told me. And Tommy, I—I’m so, so sorry. But I am so damn proud of you. You hear me? So damn proud. I know what that must have taken, for you to do that. And I’m so fucking proud of you.” He smiles, then, wide and a bit watery. He’s not going to cry, he’s not, but emotion is rising up in his throat, thick and overpowering. “You did it, Tommy. You won us L’Manberg.”

Tommy returns the smile, if a bit tentatively. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess I did, didn’t I?” And then, the smile widens, and he puffs out his chest, putting his hands on his hips. “I hear that makes me the leader now. You’re speaking to Mister High President King Lord Innit, so show me the respect you owe me, eh?”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” he replies, but he’s laughing. “No, no, enough out of you, go, take Tubbo and go get yourself whatever you want out of our rations, you’ve fucking earned it, Toms.”

Tommy offers him one last grin, and then he ducks out of his grip, grabbing Tubbo’s hand and dragging him in the direction of their storage. He can hear Tubbo’s voice already, high and offended at the fact that Tommy went and did this without telling him, and perhaps all is right with the world after all. Some things do not change, even when everything else does.

He went to sleep last night a rebel, a general. He woke up a president. How about that?

“Do you think he’s alright?” Eret asks, and he starts, almost having forgotten they were there.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Not entirely. Those discs meant a lot to him. But we’ve got time to figure it out.” He turns to them, then, makes eye contact with himself in the reflection of their sunglasses. “What was he doing with you, before we walked up?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” they reply. “He came up to me, sort of yelling a bit? Punched me in the shoulder a few times. Couldn’t figure out what that was about. Then he thanked me for something, and then he hugged me, which was a bit odd, and then he did the, uh, thing, with the holding my face? And then you and Tubbo arrived. I honestly don’t know what any of that was about at all.”

He hums, and looks out after the boys, at their retreating backs. As he watches, Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, his other hand gesticulating wildly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says softly. “It’s Tommy. He makes it his job to be unpredictable.”

“You’re right about that,” Eret says. “I suppose congratulations are in order, President Soot?”

President Soot. It’s got a nice ring to it. He is the leader of a free country now, and it is thanks to the kid he sees as a younger brother, whether he’ll admit as much out loud or not. He is the leader of a free country, and that means there is much work to be done.

But he gives himself a moment longer, and smiles at the way the midday sun shines in Tommy’s hair.

It’s all for them, after all. Land is just land; as long as he can give his loved ones the freedom they deserve, that’s enough for him.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tubbo #eret #/rp #cw swearing #cw death mention #cw injury mention #both of those are hypothetical #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #surprise!! bet you weren't expecting a new chapter of this today!!!#:DDD

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