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bohemian-nights · 1 year

Text

An Impossible Truth

Word Count: ~6,062

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Nettles

Warnings ⚠️: Spoilers for Fire & Blood; Age gap relationship; Minor smut

Description: “Thank the Gods you are not married then.”His tone was not unkind, but it was firm. Something in it made her turn away from her hearth’s blaze. His violet gaze reflected the light from the fire. Casting dark shadows across his face though not malevolent. Heat. Fire. Not rage.

AN: This story takes place from 135 AC onward following the events of the Dance. I’ve also aged up Nettles a smidge and basically kept Daemon’s show age for reasons.

Part 1: The Visitor, Part 3: Spring, Part 4: Birth, Chapter 5: Life

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135 AC-Mountains of Moon

What is a life well lived? Ironically, tis a question we can spend a lifetime trying to find the answers to. At the end of it, we might still be without a proper answer. A self-fulfilling prophecy. A question. An impossibility. One and the same. Perhaps the answer is to remain unknown. Or mayhaps we are to give it our own meaning. Our own little truth. Our little impossibility.

What are human beings if not impossible? Out of billions of stars, we find ourselves on earth. Breathing this air, in this body, tending to the garden that sustains us. Living out our lives and the intricacies in them. For what reason we do not know. Mayhaps it is best this way. We are mortals after all. All that is known itself is an impossibility to our very eyes. A dream of the Gods, it appears.

Fate is often interwoven into this very concept. There are some things that are out of our understanding. We have free will perhaps, but everything that is happening has happened. What is meant to be will be. There is no stopping our fate. We can not escape it, for it is like quicksand. The more we try to run the further we sink.

Our destinies are predetermined, by guides beyond us. Older than the Gods themselves. Built into the fabric of everything. An impossible truth. The nature of these kinds of truths are often the hardest to wrap our minds around. The mind of a creature merely made from flesh, blood, and bone.

Or maybe. Just maybe, tis our own will that sets events into motion. We give ourselves too little credit. We may be mortals, but the impossible is in us to make a possibility as well. It is our own will and the will of others that makes the world turn.

It was her own will that led Nettles to claim Sheepstealer all those moons ago. A small bastard girl from Hull penniless and nearly friendless. A girl of ten and nine of less than low birth and uncertain stock claiming a wild dragon upon Dragonstone. The ancient seat of House Targaryen. An impossible feat.

Nettles did not take much stock into the wants of fickle Gods or something more than that. She could not. For where would she have gotten if she had? To follow in her late mother’s footsteps? To take her place in the house where she had been raised? Giving her body over and over until she no longer recognized herself? Until she had nothing left to give.

Gods forbid to condemn any child she might birth to a wretched existence. She could not live that life. She could not live with herself if she did. It would be the desolation of her spirit. Better dead than to go through life without her soul. She had no choice, but to take matters into her own hands.

Growing up on Driftmarks shores it was hard not to hear the stories of the old freehold. Even the uneducated among them, the smallfolk of Driftmark, Kings Landing, and Dragonstone knew the tales of old Valyria. While the Velaryons were not dragonriders, they came from old Valyria. They were just as Valyrian as their Targaryen cousins. The same blood ran through their veins. They had surely intermarried enough for them to be near inseparable, especially in the last generation.

Valyria was gone, but its legacy lingered on in the Velaryon’s, the Celitgar’s, and most of all with the Targaryen’s and their dragon. The last known dragon lords of an ancient and prideful race. However, it was not the dragonlords of the ruined freehold or even their descendant's families that interested the young lowborn girl. No, it was the very first dragon riders that captured Nettles attention.

So it was told the Valyrians had come from humble means. Simple sheepherders. They held no noble blood yet they had tamed great beasts of smoke and fire. Bringing to heel such creatures that no man thought possible to claim to create a civilization that stretched most of Essos. Reaching as far as the edge of Westeros. Only a force of nature brought on by their own hubris, such as the Doom, could bring Valyria to its knees, crushing it, but it was not power that Nettles sought.

If she were to recollect her early years, there was not much if anything to note. Nothing grand or worth mentioning that she would like to detail. Her mother had been a dockside whore who had died before she could set her face to memory though she had been told she had inherited it. The first ten years of her life were spent in the whorehouse. Half of her heritage remained unknown to her. She could be the daughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon or of a fisherman for all she knew, but her origins or lack of it would not stop her.

She was born as a bastard child of no one and nothing. She would always be Nettles, but claiming Sheepstealer was her rebirth. Her liberation from a dreary existence. An impossible feat and yet she had done it. Perhaps not so impossible after all. The first dragonriders were decidedly not their descendants. If they could tame dragons why not she? They had controlled destiny as would she.

Nettles had made her own fate. Had sacrificed to do so much as had the first Valyrians. Not with sorcery as they had. With her own cunning and patience. We all make sacrifices that we can bear in order to head to where we need to. Hers had been a gamble, but one ending in triumph.

Sheepstealer was a wild creature not unlike herself. Over the years Nettles had caught glimpses of him when he went to graze upon the sheep of Driftmark. He was a solitary lone figure dotting the sky who did not bother unless bothered. A skinny brown thing for a skinny brown girl. Perhaps that is what had drawn her to him and he to her. Dragons choose their riders just as they choose them.

Stowing away on a small fishing boat to Dragonstone has been easy enough. Jacaerys Velaryon wanted riders for his mother's war. Dragonseeds. She had observed the others' attempts. Their lack of care for the poor creature. Their lack of attention. Dragonseed or not, Nettles had nothing to lose from her own attempt.

It did not take much to coax sheep away from their flock. Nettles was small and fast enough to where the boy no older than ten name days who watched her chosen flock had only noticed the sheep’s absence after she departed. Thinking it was Sheepstealer. She was not proud of it, but the lambs would go missing with it without her help. It was better than the alternative she told herself.

“You’re a clever girl.” Nettles had not been as discreet as she thought. The boy's grandsire noticed. The old shepherd may have been half blind, but nothing escaped him. “None of the others have thought of it. Poor souls. They might still be with us if they had.” He gifted her with a warm half-gummy smile. There was no more sneaking around after that. Bless him.

Sheepstealer came to her heel. Her mind wandered to him from time to time. She sent a prayer to the Gods that he and his grandson had made it through the worst of the war and the winter unscathed. Kindness to those who are seldom used to being on the receiving end of it can be its own inconceivable feat.

Nettles' relationship with Daemon was another seemingly improbable affair. A prince of House Targaryen. The Rogue Prince. The husband and uncle of the Black Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Or rather a would-be queen. Sins of the body. Of the flesh. An affair of the heart. Is a sin a sin if it is born from love? Was it a sin in any way?

Their first meeting had been a sour one. Daemon had apologized a thousand times over for it now. “I was an arrogant ass, my sweet girl.” They had laughed about it a thousand times more. Jacaerys wanted to show off his collection of dragonriders to his queenly mother and stepfather. He had done so not a day after she had claimed Sheepstealer.

“No wonder that ugly thing did not try to kick you off.” A sneer graced his pale face as the prince consort spoke pointing at Sheepstealer. “He is your twin.” He and the queen exchanged chortles. Both narrowed their eyes at Nettles. Making a show of their inspection, but there was something else beneath Daemon Targaryen’s smirk that was not present in his wife’s acerbic glare.

No other words were exchanged for a fortnight between herself and the Targaryen prince. Instead, he took to staring at her. His violet gaze watching her around Dragonstone. Always finding her. Like a predator following its prey. He would not turn away when she met his stare. only let out the same laugh he had during their first and only meeting. The man looked at her as if she were an oddity. A mystery he wanted the answer to. She supposed she was in a way, but she knew that look all too well.

For her part, Nettles had tried to keep her distance from him. Avoiding running into him as best as she could. His stories were infamous. Daemon Targaryen was well known to frequent the Street of Silk. Well known to take girls into his bed far younger than herself. His favorites had been silver-haired Valyrian beauties from Essos or even dragonseeds from Westeros, but he was not too picky. As long as they were young enough the prince did not complain.

These days the prince seemed less than enamored with his wife. He and Rhaenyra no longer shared a bed. There wasn’t a need. His voice remained in the queen’s ear. His position was secure. He was closer to the crown than ever. He Had styled himself the realm’s protector. He would want his fun and his wife did not seem willing to stop him. As long as whatever girl he chose remained only abed warmer she’d say nothing. Nettles knew the games they would play. Nettles wouldn't fall victim to them.

A surprise attack by the Triarchy on Driftmark had changed everything. Viserys the ship had been intercepted. The boy lost. His Spicetown had gone up in flames. Women, children, and men, all butchered like dogs. Their homes were sacked. Lives rummaged and trampled on without a care. Their lives were cut down too short.

Even High Tide, Lord Corlys great seat, had not been spared. Nettles had few fond memories of the place, but it was home. The only home she had known and it was gone. Jacerys Velaryon was added to the list of casualties. He was a charitable boy. Thoughtful. Brave and dead before his time.

She had been angry. So very angry. At the world. At herself. At the Queen who let others fight her battles and later cower and hide when the dead was done and tragedy left in the wake. At Daemon Targaryen who stood back and watched with his eyes that shined with fire. Fire blood. He embodied his house words in truth and she resented him for it.

He seemed the least bothered. They were all disposable to him. It had not occurred to her until then, but this war might very well kill her. She could go to her grave as Jace, but no one would be there to mourn her as the crown prince. For who among Valyrians and noblemen would mourn a brown bastard girl? A nobody who came from nothing. A foreigner among them. An oddity.

It had been her grief and anguish that had led her to fall into his bed. With such ease. “You would not care if we all were dead if it meant you remained as protector of the realm.” A title she had long thought not worth its salt. Certainly, the man before her remained undeserving of it.

She did not remember much of what she or he had said after that. Only vaguely of his lips brushing against hers. Their tongues entangled as he led her back into the safety of his chambers. Nettles' memory only returned to her in full when she found herself as naked as her name day underneath him.

Brushing away her tears with the pads of his fingers as he rocked within her. Doing so with surprising gentleness. Only stopping when they both had reached their peaks. With him spilling his seed inside of her. He wouldn’t let her leave his bed nor did she want to that night. It was the first time she ever wanted to be touched or touch another. It was more than what physically happened. Far more than that. It had been a balm to her soul.

For a few hours. A brief few hours, she felt more alive, more human than she had ever known. Her existence wasn’t some mundane thing to dread. She felt wanted. Actually wanted. Not even Sheepstealer made her feel so. The feeling of being seen by another human being is incomparable and they had seen one another. It was only when the morning light came when he was exhausted by their exertions, did she manage to slip out from his bed chambers. Out from his hold.

The guilt ate at her. Daemon Targaryen was a married man and he was far too enamored with her. She had seen the way he looked. How he gazed down at her during their amorous intimacies. She had seen that look before and what it led to for girls like her.

Nettles could not forget how his eyes trailed her around the castle. Even when he was in the company of another. He would always follow her. It was not as malevolent as she first thought. She knew that then. It was more than just fucking. Lust surely played her role, but it was more than that.

He had touched her as one would a lover. He did not hold back his kisses. His hot mouth always found its way back to her. His caresses. Cradling her face. His petting. He had at one point reached a hand down to her center. At the sparks spreading out from her core Nettles accidentally grazed the scars at the base of his neck to entangle her hands within his silver strands. An intimacy. One which she was surely not permitted to, but he had not minded it. “I’m here sweet girl.” The first time she had been given a nickname.

“My sweet girl.” One said with reverence. Repeating it over and over as he thrust in and out her wetness with his length. “My good sweet girl.” As if he himself was shocked by his own affections. He had most certainly not meant to voice them, but something had overtaken them. Something she wanted no parts in when clarity had returned.

Moontea was delivered to her room that morning. From Lady Baela she would find out. The girl ambushed her on her way to Sheepstealer. She did not know how a highborn unmarried girl happened to have it within her possession, but she was grateful for it. “I’m afraid my father can be a forgetful man.” Her face most surely would’ve turned red from embarrassment if she were a few shades lighter, but the Targaryen girl only took her hand in hers, giving it a sisterly squeeze and a warm smile. “I am more observant than most Nettles. A gift from my mother.”

The fortnight and a half that followed had put her on edge. Apart from Lady Baela’s company and occasionally Ser Alyn and Addam she had little reprieve. Dealing with the stress of the war on top of the new predicament in which she found herself.

Daemon’s advances persisted. Watching her. Waiting for her. Nettles had fortified her resolve in their wake. She would not allow herself to be used and discarded. Not in the way of the girls who worked in the houses by the docks. In the way of her mother. Least of all not within Dragonstone’s walls.

The queen looked the other way at her husband's nightly activities, but they were just that. He carried on with no real affairs. No real threats to her place by his side. If he were to take a mistress it would not be a low-born girl who lacked the grace that Daemon was used to.

When they had taken Kings Landing by the end of the moon Daemon had taken his old mistress to his bed. The Lady Mysaria. The queen did not seem to object to the arrangement. Nettles thought the matter was done with. He had found a permanent bed warmer. One more suited to his breeding.

Though Mysaria was no longer as young and bony as she once was, she was a Valyrian and that was what mattered. The prince had no need for her, but his eyes never stopped following her as did another’s. While she did not see the second, she paid the first no mind. He would forget her in time.

He did not, as she would not be sitting within her little cottage that had turned into theirs. Sharing her bed with him in the Mountains of the Moon at the end of winter if he had. However, back in 130 AC, her second avoidance had worked until he insisted on taking her with him. To hunt down Aemond and end his terror in the Riverlands. To Maidenpool.

Daemon could have taken Ulf White or Hugh Hammer. It would’ve made more sense too. Their dragons were larger than Sheepstealer and they were proud men. Better to keep an eye on them. Better to separate them, but he insisted upon her. His wife thought nothing of it. Giving him leave of her. She would not be missed in the capital. She wouldn’t be missed anywhere.

He wouldn’t leave her side. Doted upon her despite her rejections. Vexing her. She was capable of the task. She wouldn’t confront him if she did find the one-eyed prince. Even Lord Mooton had suggested they split up, but Daemon would not budge. Only a dark look would take over his face that would hold any man’s tongue, but she was not a man.

She snapped at him. Tried to go off on her own. Had made it to mount Sheepstealer before he pulled her off the dragon, kicking and screaming like a wild woman. “I would never forgive myself.” The eyes are the window to the soul. Nothing can hide from them. His violet orbs told a world of truth. Nettles the skinny brown girl, the daughter of a dockside whore, would be missed somewhere. It had been a fortnight of resistance before her resolve broke.

He had long since stopped calling Nettles. Only Netty. Sometimes “sweet girl,” but never her given. He had given her the key that unlocked the door to their adjoining. She slipped into his bed again with ease. They were less discreet than they had been on Dragonstone. Freer. Not caring for servant's gossip. Not caring if anyone heard them as they succumbed to ecstasy within the walls of his chamber.

If they did not hear them they most certainly saw the proof of their ravishment of each other when they drew their evening baths. Bruises, scratches, and love bites littered their bodies. His chamber had become theirs. The days were long, but the nights were theirs. Entirely their own. They had found their own little piece of the seven heavens in them for near on six moons.

Until a set of pale eyes set within an unnaturally placid face cast their gaze towards them. Nothing eluded the White Worm's sight. A bitter queen's orders meant to do away with her head. A desperate woman on the verge of losing everything. Grasping at power and pointing a finger at threats real or imagined. It would be easy enough to place blame on the unknown. The foreigner. The outsider. Expected even. No one would care. Nettles' death warrant was signed in black ink. Spelled plainly for all to see.

She had committed no crime other than forgetting her place. She was a lowborn girl. A brown lowborn bastard girl from murky origins. How could she be a dragonseed? Whatever she was, whoever she came from, her blood was unclear. She had claimed Sheepstealer using some trick or another. Not from her own wit that could be sure. She was a bastard. That’s all anyone would ever see her as. Nettles. Plain old Nettles from Driftmark was nothing more than a common girl who had gotten ahead of herself.

Nettles recalled the girls by the docks. Tossed aside when the men had their fun and fill. They had only dallied with the sons of House Velaryon. Never Prince’s. She had flown too close and let her emotions get the best of her. She had been weak and foolish herself. Exposed her under belly and now she had done herself in. How could she be so foolish? Pretty words and sweet touches never amounted to much. She had forgotten that.

She was nothing and no one and certainly not befitting of a Prince of the House Targaryen. The queen’s husband. She was not worthy of him and she’d lose her life for it. His wife called him. As much as he had enjoyed her, she was nothing. He would let them do away with her.

Prince he may be. Targaryen he may have been, but he was hers as she was his. There was more to life than being a Targaryen or this war for who sat upon a metal chair. Dark Sister was unsheathed. No man, even sixty men, wanted to stare down at the end of Daemon Targaryen’s blade. The queen's letter was thrown into the fire, but it was not the end of it.

He would not give up on his pursuit of his nephew. Queen or no queen. Nor would he risk his Netty. “I have to do some good sweet girl. Some good for all of you.” He would not take her with him, though she begged him to. Going after Aemond most surely suicide, but Daemon refused. It was his own mission and he intended to see it through.

A declaration of love spilled from his lips along with his spend inside of her. That mattered not for it had long since taken root. It was all too late. Nettles wanted more time, but it had been too late. A promise. A tearful goodbye. She slit a lambs throat with Dark Sister, climbed upon Sheepstealer, and flew into the unknown with Caraxes scream playing over in her head

It would haunt her. It had. It had pained her to part from him. Her babes birth and short life five moons later had added to that agony. Her sorrow. She was not Daemon Targaryen’s wife, but she mourned him all the same as a grieving widow. Even if she did not have the right to. She mourned him. That was then. Now was the matter of new curiosity.

Daemon's reappearance was perplexing. An impossibility, but not wholly so. Forces outside their control had separated them and saved them all the same. If anyone could have survived leaping off Vhagar after driving Dark Sister into the back of his nephew's skull, and plummeting into strange waters below, it would be him. For he had want to.

His dragon was lost. one of the endless casualties of the bloodshed. Part of him was gone and lost forever. More than part of him had forgotten who even he was. What he was, but he had survived. He was alive. Still breathing, but he wandered.

He had wandered until he reached a motherhouse. Collapsed on their doorstep. An irony. One which led to Nettles descending into a round of laughter when he recalled the story. A man with the restlessness of the Gods of Old Valyria taken in by the followers of the Faith. The septa’s took him to a septry after he recovered enough to be moved again. From there he stayed. Until her attempt at escape in the past. It had awoken something in both of them. Called like to like.

Nettles had conceded that perhaps there were Gods who have some control over our fate. Even if Daemon insisted that it was just his will, he had to see that there was more to it than that. For here they were at the end of winter. Together. He had survived his own death. For her. She did not think it too presumptuous to say so. He had, after all, trekked halfway across a continent plagued by sickness during the last storm of the winter for her. He could have waited till spring, but he had not.

Still, she did not let her curiosity escape her. It had been five years since they parted. There were many curiosities to be answered. Events that could have changed everything had they been acted upon. Nettles tried not to be at war with herself, but her imagination was always good for that. The Gods had saved him and brought him to her, but for what purpose?

“What would you have done if I had been married.” She asked the question a week after they had been reunited. After she had cleared their plates from dinner. The storm was well in swing. There was not much to do, but talk, check on the animals she kept in a nearby barn, and visit Sheepstealer. Nettles did not mind it.

“I would have built a cottage besides yours, been your neighbor, and offered your husband my hand in friendship.” Daemon’s face had transformed with an impish grin. The man before her was one thing if not presumptuous with offering friendship. Nettles supposed it came with the territory of being the Rogue Prince of House Targaryen. Her metaphorical husband would not like that very much, but he would more than likely grumble in silence. For who would challenge Daemon Targaryen?

She wondered if he would’ve taken matters into his own hands. Nettles knew how he had gained his second bride and what was purported to be how he gained his third. Valyrian brides. What he had always wanted for his first had been anything, but Valyrian as herself. Though the Lady Rhea Rhoyce was more than an appropriate match.

A lady from the Vale and at the time of their wedding the heir to the ancient and noble seat of Runestone. A seat that she had inherited. All of them Valyrian and non-Valyrian alike had been more suited to him than she. Nettles tried not to doubt, but her own doubt, the doubt of a girl who had been born under turmoil, couldn’t be helped. “You are yourself.” He had reassured her a thousand times over since they met. She was something new altogether. More than welcome though if not entirely expected.

“What if I had a child as well?” She hadn’t had the chance to take him to their son's grave. The snows were too high to safely make the trek a little ways out to where he lay. The terrain leading to the burial was too narrow for even Sheepstealer to fly through.

Nettles was relieved that they would not have to bring the dragon. Daemon was not unkind to him, but she could tell it stung him. He had not been born Caraxes as he reminded her. “I have lived without a dragon before, sweet girl.” For the first half of his life. That still did not make the loss less so. The bond between dragon and rider could only be separated by death. Learning to live without a part of you would always be an open wound.

She hadn’t had the heart to tell him about the boy either. Nettles had suspected that she might have been pregnant as had one of the maids that helped her from time to time at Maidenpool, perhaps even daemon himself, but she had no real way of knowing. Her belly hadn’t set in until she had parted from him and she had never had morning sickness. Only general fatigue which she had blamed on hunting down the one-eyed prince. The same stress that had likely killed their babe.

“They would be your children, Netty.” He grabbed her arm then. Pulling her into his lap and brushing some of the memories that dotted her mind with the touch. “I’d love them all the same.” His lined face had gone soft as he gave her a small smile. One which she did not return. Her mind found its way back to that silver-haired babe.

“Tis a sin to covet after another man’s wife.” Nettles had no other defense. So she Whispered it under her breath not intending for him to comment on it. She took her mug in hand from where it rested to take a sip of her tea. Setting her sight towards the fire.

“Thank the Gods you are not married then.”His tone was not unkind, but it was firm. Something in it made her turn away from her hearth’s blaze. His violet gaze reflected the light from the fire. Casting dark shadows across his face though not malevolent. Heat. Fire. Not rage. Ardor.

That’s what it was. It left no room for argument. It left no room for doubting his meaning. His intentions. She wondered just how far those intentions would take them. Living together was one thing, but marriage was another.

“I will not leave Netty unless you tell me to.” He had repeated those words once a day since he arrived. He knew that she could be as skittish as Sheepstealer. Slow to trust as was he. Oddly enough they had trusted each other with less resistance than they would normally put up. Seeing the other for what they were and recognizing a kindred spirit.

It was, for this reason, she was unlikely to tell him to leave despite her apprehension. They both knew that. His being here was very well on her terms, but those terms were dictated by an impartial judge. Much fairer than solely logic. A benevolent benefactor. Daemon Targaryen should be glad of it.

The snow’s cleared by the second week of Daemon’s return. Clear enough at least for them to venture to their son's grave. Try as she might, Nettles could never quite get the words out. I lost a child. Our child. Our son. A gloomy mood hung over him like a rain cloud before a storm.

With a mood so low, no words were needed. They passed some young boys on the narrow path who asked about Sheepstealer, more concerned with their beloved fire-breathing friend than the strange silver-haired man that was with their Danu, a nickname they had so graciously bestowed upon Nettles. A brief moment of levity. They remained otherwise undisturbed.

Most of the trek was made hand in hand in silence. Netty only broke it when they reached the little burial marked by a tree surrounded by stones. “He looked like you.” It was all she could croak out as she sat down to rearrange the stones.

“He didn’t have one drop of me apart from his nose. The rest was all you.” Nettles closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. If she did she’d remember and imagine. A world that could not and would never exist.

Silence fell over them once more. Daemon seemed at a loss for words. She could hear the crunching of his boots against the snow as he reached for her. “Netty.” His voice was thick and quiet. Like he had come across a frightened bird he did not wish to scare away. At the brush of his hand against her coils she burst into bone-shattering sobs. Her prince had to carry her home. Pulling her off the ground and taking on most of her weight.

She was numb by the time they got back to their little cottage. In a daze, until she saw the little wooden toy dragon left on the kitchen table that Daemon had been fiddling with earlier. A small token. A gift from Baela’s daughter to her grandsire. Little Laena. “She’s a sweet babe.” His violet orbs had lit up when he had told her about his time with his eldest daughter and her family on Driftmark. “She has Rhaena’s temperament and looks more so than her mothers.” That small little dragon. A gentle reminder of all the life Daemon had lived before her. What Nettles would never have with him.

Companionship. That is the relationship they would have. He had three wives. Two of his own choosing. He would not want a fourth. There was no need for another. He had four living children. Two daughters and two sons. One of which was a king. Daemon was done. He had his legacy. He merely wanted to spend the rest of his days with her. There was no room for a family with her. He had all of that.

They could’ve had that. Almost had. She didn't know how to brew moon tea properly. Only vaguely recalling what the older girls used to prevent their pregnancies. A botched job that led to her little almost miracle. There wouldn’t be another accident. He wouldn’t give her another. She wasn’t meant to be a mother. She’d have to make peace with that.

Nettles couldn’t move. She could only stare at the toy. It taunted her. Daemon followed her line of sight. With a sigh, he picked her up bridal style to carry her to their room. He shushed her when she apologized. “It’s not your fault Netty.”

Her prince wordlessly removed her outer layers to leave her in her undergarments. Tucking her into bed with a kiss on her forehead like one would a child. Meaning to leave her and more likely ponder over everything she sprung at him, but she grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me.” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a squeak. Her red-rimmed dark eyes finally met his violet ones. He nodded his silver head with a sigh. She’d worn him out. He looked every bit of his years as he went to change and join her, but to that, she too protested. Something in her had broke. “I need you.”

Daemon was always the one with trouble sleeping. He was too restless. Had been that way since he was a boy after his mother had passed on. When they were at Maidenpool it was the most rest he had gotten in years oddly enough. Issa ōños. My light he called her from time to time. Light through the dark. Nettles needed him now.

He may not be her light. He had too many stains upon him for that, but he was her safe harbor and she needed him. He had saved her Maidenpool. He had come here for her. Survived for her. His Netty. Done the impossible for her. Daemon would make good on his promise.

Their coupling was not frantic. Nor was it hollow. The years apart had not cooled their ardor for one another. It was how it had been that first time back on Dragonstone. Easy as breathing and surprisingly tender. Unhurried.

The sounds of their lovemaking overtook the room. Moans of each other’s names. Netty. I love you. Sweet girl. My prince. Quickly swallowed by their tongues or drowned out by the sounds of her wetness. For a man on the cusp of his fifth decade, her prince had surprising endurance. Nettles could not recall when he spilled his seed after her peak, only that he did not leave her as they both came down from their highs. A warm pleasure-soaked heap of limbs that clung to each other on their bed only to renew their affections tenfold. They would savor each other that night. A winter-long silence ended with new life and a whispered vow eagerly accepted to usher in spring.

Ao3 Link:

#prince daemon targaryen #nettles #daemon x nettles #daemon targaryen x nettles #nettles f&b #nettles x daemon #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #houseofthedragon #house of the dragon #bnhotdfic

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animechristi · 2 months

Text

Ranking of Kings: Hell and Demons

Offered to Jesus through Mary

Matthew 22:13 “Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

Spoilers?

No big spoilers this time around. I’ll refer to one scene and one character out of context, but that’s all. If this whets your appetite for the show then go ahead and watch it. If not, then still give it a try. It’s a good show that keeps you hooked. Not to mention the second opening is a banger.

Our Topic

Towards the end of the show, we’re shown a depiction of hell where the souls of the damned are eaten, regurgitated, reformed, and then eaten again ad infinitum. If this reminds you of Dante’s Inferno, you’re not alone. Also, good job! Being well-read in literature guarantees you pick up on all the inside jokes and references people make. Setting aside the early Italian renaissance – what’s important here is that Hell isn’t just a fiery time out corner. The damned aren’t just thrown into Hell. They are actively punished while in Hell and they’ll be in Hell forever. This should properly terrify us. If we think the “sweet release of death” frees us from all our problems, we may be in for a rude awakening.

The unnamed demon eating someone’s soul.

But before we get too gloomy, let’s take a step back. Ranking of Kings did a good job showing us how horrific hell is. But if this article is going to serve a purpose, we should see how someone ends up in Hell. We could say ultimately this is done by rejecting salvation through Christ. That’s the general answer. For specific answers we can look at all the various ways someone separates himself from Christ. For now, I’d like to focus only on one way: pacts with devils. If we believe the rising statistics of people claiming to worship pagan gods, then we shouldn’t be surprised that more people – knowingly or unknowingly – are entering into pacts or contracts with devils.

In Ranking of Kings things are comically straightforward. Miranjo, a young woman, has made a pact with a demon who tells her upfront “when you die, I’ll devour your soul”. We might dismiss this and say “she was desperate, and it was for the sake of the plot.” That’s fine with me. I’m not trying to prove or disprove her character. Pay attention to what the demon says. It’s simplistic, sure, but the pact made between Miranjo and the demon demonstrates truths about our spiritual warfare this side of Heaven. Contracts are a two-way street. Each party does something for or to the other. But this doesn’t mean both sides are equal. In making a pact or contract with a demon, a human places himself under that creature’s power structure in the hopes that one metaphysically higher than himself can achieve what he cannot.

Christ casting out demons

Here’s the catch. Demons cannot guarantee their side of the bargain. All their actions are confined by the permissive will of God. They serve the father of lies, so why should we believe anything they promise?

Alternatively, the Paschal Mystery of Christ is what establishes a new covenant (i.e. contract) between God and mankind. In Baptism we die and rise with Christ. This takes us out from the domain and power structure of sin and death and places us in our Heavenly Father’s house. Only by our own free choices do we find ourselves outside such divine protection.

Okay, so what?

I don’t expect many readers to have experimented with occult practices. Again, good job! But regardless of our history, I want to recommend a simple practice: repeating the renunciations made at our Baptism. It’s a small way of reminding ourselves who exactly we’ve put our trust and hope in. Let us firmly say I do to the follow.

Do you renounce Satan?

And all his works?

And all his empty show?

Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth?

Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, suffered death and was buried, rose again from the dead and is seated at the right hand of the Father?

Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?

St. Justin Martyr, pray for us!

#catholicism #catholic anime #anime analysis #animechristi #ranking of kings #ousama ranking #hell #baptism

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hekate1308 · 7 months

Text

Do you recognise this?

Prompt: Do you recognis this?

Fandom: Lewis

When Lewis storms into their office and orders him to follow him, James knows that someone is in trouble, and rather serious trouble at that.

Yet he could never have foreseen what he is about to learn.

He recognizes the man they are about to interview, but it doesn’t give him a clue what’s going on. Cutler is a low-level criminal who now and then pickpockets or commits small fraud, and he certainly has never believed that he is dangerous.

“Do you recognise this?” Lewis asks flatly and throws the small bag on the table.

Cutler flinches. “I don’t –“

“Don’t lie to me, man” he barks in a tone James has only heard very few times from him, mostly when someone did something they really shouldn’t have.

He still doesn’t understand what is happening.

“We both know what kind of damage things like this could do”.

“I – “ he looks into Lewis’ face and decides that it would be a safer choice to tell the truth. “I don’t do stuff like this, Inspector. You know I don’t. It’s not finished, I promise.”

Lewis takes a deep breath and sits down. “That’s the reason you’re here and not at the Guard House currently.”

He flinches again.

“But still – this is not something you should be playing around with – you or anyone else.”

He looks down at his hands and mumbles, “If I don’t, then someone else will do it, and they’ll not use phonies.”

Lewis sighs. “Don’t I know it.”

“Sir” James can’t help but begin because he’s completely lost.

But Lewis turns to him, “Not now, James. I have to figure out this matter of hex bags…”

And there it is.

Hex bags.

James knows about magic, of course. Everyone does. But so far, he has never really had a case where it was involved, and furthermore, he is utterly confused why he and Lewis are the ones who are dealing with this. Maybe everyone else is bu –

“I swear it was never going to be able to work, Councilman” he now pleads and James almost falls off of his chair.

Councilman. He just called Lewis a Councilman.

But if Lewis is a member of the Council, that means that he is a member of the body that leads Oxford’s magic users and creatures…

He is studying Cutler now, and suddenly, there it is – the gleam every magic user carries in their eyes.

He must have been hiding it all this time.

James can only continue to stare as he seizes up Cutler once more, then sighs. “You are right – the hex bag would never have worked, which is why I have to assume you had no intention of harming anybody. However, consider this a warning, and I will not accept anything else like this, I swear it by the gods.”

Gods?

Cutler looks infinitely relieved as he nods. “No, Councilman. I will take this very seriously, I promise.”

“Good. You’re free to leave, then, but make sure you let anyone else who thinks this would be a good idea know that it is not and that I will look after every case that should pop up personally.”

Cutler, nodding, is already getting up and then all but flees.

James takes a deep breath.

Lewis sighs once more and looks at him. “We should take a walk. I rather suspect you will want a cigarette.”

That might just be the understatement of the year.

By the time they leave the interrogation room, Lewis has hidden the gleam again, so at least they do not have to deal with anyone else being surprised at what James only just found out.

He lights a cigarette as soon as they are outside and takes a deep drag. “Sir… this has been a surprise.”

“I would say” he actually chuckles. “Normally, I would not have shown my eyes, or dragged you into this, but I was rather angry and thought it would rattle Cutler to see both of us.”

It seems to James that Lewis was more than capable of scaring him on his own, but still…

He dares say, “He called you Councilman.”

“Because that’s what I am” he replies simply. “I just also have a day job.”

James has to laugh. He can’t help it. To refer to what they’re doing as a day job while Lewis is apparently also very high-up in the magical hierarchy is just…

Lewis himself chuckles again as well. “Ay, I ran right into that one. Are you alright?”

“Yes” he slowly says, “Yes, I am.”

After all, this is still Lewis they are talking about – magic or nor magic.

“Alright, then” Lewis decides, “Time to go back to work. If you want, we can talk about trhis some more over a pint this evening.”

He decides that might be for the best.

#fictober23 #my writings #lewis #robbie lewis #james hathaway

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moorishflower · 1 year

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I have another question actually! Will you pls talk about the way you used Scylla and Charybdis in Maybe sprout wings? I keep thinking about idea of Dream being both the goal and the obstacle, at once the storm and the sea (and is he the ship also, since it's a ship made of dreams?)

Hello my friend! <3 I will GLADLY talk about symbolism in Wings!!!

For Scylla and Charybdis in The Odyssey, they're yet another example of Odysseus' hubris. Circe literally TELLS him not to waste time arming himself, because Scylla can't be fought, and that if he does he risks losing more of his men. She frames it as "better to lose 6 men than 100" (there is NO escape from Charybdis), and he straight up doesn't listen. He doesn't tell his men about Scylla, because he's worried they'll lose hope and become afraid, and he wastes time arming himself, and in response Scylla snatches up 6 of his men and eats them in front of him. Odysseus thinks he knows best, despite messengers of gods outright TELLING him he doesn't, and at the end it leaves him alone, his whole crew dead BECAUSE OF HIM, and the only reason he's a hero is because he gets his wife back at the end. He accomplishes his goal of returning home. There's never recompense or closure for his crew. They don't matter, because in epics, the masses, the crew, the army, they don't generally matter.

In Wings, Dream fulfills the role of Poseidon for most of the fic, an active antagonist to Hob's attempts to know him and love him, and we only get flashes of him as Penelope (Hob is primarily the one who weaves and unweaves himself, constantly trying to find the combination that works that will bring Dream to him), but the thing about Wings is that all aspects of the Dreaming are eventually traced back to either Hob, who manipulates it, or Dream, who creates it. Scylla IS Dream. The massive creature that rises from the water and chastises Hob for his hubris, for daring to think he could move a single chess piece and not affect the entire game, is a direct link to Scylla's much more violent chastisement of Odysseus' hubris. Except in Wings, Hob can make the conscious choice to defy the narrative. He doesn't HAVE to be the lone hero who never learns from his mistakes. He makes the active choice to repent, and to learn, and it screws him over because it results in his lost year to the Crone! If he had chosen to ignore their advice, if he'd tried to push his way out of Charybdis, he'd still be caught in the story. So, he gains and he loses. But it's one of several events that convince him he has more control than he thinks (which had been his problem, him thinking that he had LESS control, doubting himself) over the story itself, and thus more control than he thinks over DREAM. The tone change in Hob's speaking is the biggest indication of this, when he starts talking "normally" instead of the much higher prose-poetry of early chapters. He reaches full realization when he starts calling Dream a bastard and talking frankly about loving him, that's when he's speaking author to author, equal to equal.

So yeah all of Wings is based around the idea that Dream and Hob are all variations of their own obstacles and resources. Dream is Poseidon, the storms, the devouring sea, but he's also Penelope, he's the armor of Athena, he's Argos, he's all the things that Hob creates. And Hob is Odysseus, and ALSO Penelope, and he gets the metaphors of both ship (solid, steady, he's all that's between Dream and the boundless dark of the sea) and, later on, of captain and lighthouse, to represent a sort of. Of separation from the fantasy of the story. Putting layers between himself and the sea, insulating him from Dream's absolute bullshit, but not able, and unwilling, to separate himself from Dream the BEING entirely, only Dream the metaphor.

Anyways this has been. A lot of rambling. Always feel free to ask questions for quality content such as "Odysseus maybe should have fucked LESS" and "Scylla did nothing wrong" l o l

#ask meme

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babyhoneyheslt · 1 year

Note

Drabble prompt for Larry: One of them listening to a song for the first time the other has written for him (your free choice), because there are hardly any fics about that and it's my weakness ;-)

Leaving Harry was always Louis’ biggest mistake and regret. At the time, he had thought it for the best. They were always arguing, always bickering and nothing seemed to be going right for them. And then of course the band broke up.

He will always remember the hurt and sadness on Harry’s face as the younger boy rushed out of the room. He will always remember the way Niall had been so cold to him ever since.

It’s been two years, and he hasn’t seen either of them since. And he doubts Harry would want to see him again, so he hasn’t bothered trying to get in contact.

The radio plays in the background as he sits writing his own songs. The voice of the one person he loves so much filling the air, and he stops and listens.

Same lips red, same eyes blue

Same white shirt, couple more tattoos

But it's not you and it's not me

Tastes so sweet, looks so real

Sounds like something that I used to feel

But I can't touch what I see

We're not who we used to be

We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

He had somehow forgotten Harry was releasing a solo album, and if the song is out now, then it must be out already. It’s clear as he listens that it’s about him, and it gives him hope. Turns out, Harry’s being interviewed by Nick Grimshaw, and there’s questions about the song being about Taylor Swift.

Hearing Harry’s voice singing and talking again makes Louis melt. Oh how he had missed that beautiful, deep voice. The next song, introduced as Sweet Creature plays, and Louis bites back tears.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Another song that’s clearly about him. He finds his phone, finding the number he still has in favourites, praying to a God he doesn’t really believe in that Harry hasn’t changed his number.

The dial tones ring multiple times, and Louis waits with bated breath as he expects it to go to answer machine.

“Hello?” The raspy voice fills his ears, and Louis breathes a sigh of relief. “Who is this?”

“Harry, it’s me. Louis.” He hears a small gasp, and he rushes in. “Please don’t hang up.”

“What do you want Louis?” He sounds harsher than he used to. Louis hasn’t realised that he maybe still feels hurt.

“I heard your songs on the radio and I wanted to tell you they’re good and that I-“ he stops himself. He wonders if Harry would even want to listen to him.

“And you what, Louis? I don’t have time to speak.” He can hear Harry rolling his eyes, and he can still hear pain in his voice. “Oh, and thank you.”!

“I still love you. I was wrong to leave you like I did.” Louis rushes out. “Please. Can we meet up? I need to see you.”

Harry thinks before answering. “Sure. I’ll text you when I’m free.”

Louis punches the air, he hadn’t expected him to agree.

“Oh and Louis?” Harry says. “I still love you, too.”

#harry styles #larry stylinson #harry and louis #louis and harry #larry drabble #drabbles

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sorcerous-caress · 5 months

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Just wanted to say thanks for your thoughts on the fandom for Astarion ❤️ It's really enlightening to get another perspective as someone really new(I'm not yet out of Act 1, and this is my first time playing a DnD game). I noticed this weird thing where people in his fandom specifically are bashing people for Ascending him. I don't know too much since I've been avoiding spoilers but I think *every* character is complicated. As excited as I am to be focused on romancing Astarion this route- I'm just as curious and excited about the other companions. Just makes me sad to see how divided the fandom seems to be.

Again, I'm not focusing on the other quest lines yet cause I'm so early, but I do wonder if there's a divisive moment in any of their storylines like Astarion's, and if there's just as much outrage about it. Ultimately I don't think there's a wrong or right way to play the game- part of the joy is seeing the way different choices change these characters we've come to know and love, and how they react to the circumstances and adapt.

...Also, unrelated, but you've singlehandedly gotten me into human kink and male drow specifically. Didn't think that was possible but your scenarios are...absolutely peak. Thank you for the food, and for dragging me more into DnD lore seperate from bg3! You're a gem! ❤️

Welcome to the game anon! It's so fun so please don't feel any need to rush through the game, take your time and enjoy it at your own pace. The fandom will always be here at the end of the day.

Feel free to share anything interesting you find, even if it's something you think people who finished the game saw already, it'd still be good to be reminded of it.

And yes I remember the ascended bashing incidents- those twitter threads were so long my god. The other companions do have something similar! I won't spoil anything but you will start noticing the patterns and shared themes in their storylines with each other.

But no, there isn't really any outrage around the other companions ultimatum moments, just Astarion. He is the star of the show in the fandom.

And it makes me really happy knowing i successfully infected someone with my human kink and drow propaganda <333 they live in my brain rent free, the world needs to hear about my theories on how the humans are clearly the most fuckable speices in dnd, in this essay I will-

It really boils down to humans being the most adaptable honestly, at their core every other speices is in some way or form, exclusive and closed off. Being friendly by nature and seeking out others, having strong bond with non-human creatures has always a huge part of humanity.

And I think that's lovely, also how we are the weakest in dnd, it's hilarious since we are fucking up every genepool we charm our way into.

Thank you so much for this sweet message it made me smile, and I re-read it a lot. Words mean a lot to me than i can describe, and hearing from someone else about how they like something i made is better than a million likes and reblogs. You did give me a time of your day to write this and send it, for that I am very grateful.

#♡LoveLetters

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toastling · 2 years

Text

A Theory for the End of the Owl House

So. As a fellow storyteller with an overactive imagination, here's my shot in the dark at what the End of The Owl House is going to be insofar as The Collector is concerned, based off a few assumptions from what we already know.

Right now, with The Collector free, and King's dad being the one who sealed him away, he'll probably come back into the picture since he's probably still alive (King did hear him say son, and we have confirmation now that the Isles aren't his dad, because a corpse can't seal somebody underneath itself) and try and do the same thing again.

Judging by the carvings on King's Tower, Titans were warring with some similarly giant creatures, though the mural was damaged and we couldn't see exactly what they were, other than they seemed to use staves like witches. Assumption number one is that The Collector is a baby one of those, and those murals set up the entire endgame, that there were generations of warfare and hatred between the Titans and whatever the Collector's species is. It can also be assumed the Titans won, as the Collector appears to be a lone example of his kind, and we saw lots of Titan skulls on Trapper Island.

This brings me to assumption number two, the reason the Collector used the Trappers to kill nearly every Titan in existence, instead of collecting one or more of them as his name would entail. The Collector is an orphan of this war, and he is simply doing what would have been expected of him. If his parents were killed by Titans, it may even have been straight up vengeance, vengeance like a child's with the power of a god. It's clear he isn't fully cognizant of the wrong he does or why it's wrong, but it is clear he saw King's dad as a bully if nothing else, either due to his naivety or because of what King's dad and his kind have done.

And this brings me to assumption number three: I think King is going to be the one to "defeat" The Collector this time, not his dad, and not our cast of a human kid and several witchlets. And I think he's going to do it by going against what his ancestors and his father expect of him, and genuinely befriending the Collector. Violence won't solve this. I don't think even Luz will be able to overpower or Phillip outsmart the Collector. King breaking the chain, becoming a genuine friend, and helping raise the Collector as a sibling though? That could do it. That could change everything for the better. It could even break Eda's curse. Eda's done well with kids - if King could convince them to lead a more structured life, to make specific times and set certain limits for play, Eda would be a good choice to teach them right from wrong in absence of their true parents. They'd even get a little brother of equal power - a literal Titan - out of the exchange.

That, I think, is how The Owl House is going to end. Not with a grand final battle (I'm sure we'll get that too, but I'm also sure it's going to fail and the Collector is just too godlike to stop), but with an attempt at peace.

#The Owl House #The Owl House Theory #The Collector TOH #King Clawthorne #Titan TOH #TOH #TOH Theory

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evilwickedme · 1 year

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Very much enjoyed your Cap/David analysis! I have never seen people theorize Cap is a golem - the only character I’ve heard people say that for is Wonder Woman, actually. I’d love to hear your thoughts on that - she obviously has free will but on the other hand she IS made of clay for a specific purpose…?

RE Vision, do you think it would be just him that fits the golem qualifications, or would the rest of his family count too?

Hey, thank you so much for your kind words, I'm glad you liked the post! I promise you that Cap being the golem is not only something that I've seen repeatedly on Tumblr, but is right now being repeated a lot on comictok and jewtok, and can be seen in a lot of the literature on the subject (it's been a while since I read any of it because I find most of it shallow and/or obvious, but iirc either one or both of Up, Up and Oy Vey and From Krakow to Krypton discuss it).

Anyway as for Wonder Woman, I get what you mean, but the story of the golem is actually more than just "creature made of clay" and I feel like Diana ultimately doesn't fall into it. I'm not extremely familiar with her classic origin story, but as far as I know, she isn't really made to be a protector with the power of God (or gods, as the matter may be) - her heroic nature is not built into the clay and the way she was brought back to life, nor is it part of her weakness. Her stories don't really have much to do with the golem's story either - to the point where I can't even compare and contrast, they just deal with completely different ideas. And that's fine, the few WW comics I've picked up have been great and if any of you have been around for a while you'll know I made the 2017 movie my personality for like a year, but we have to acknowledge two things when we look at WW's origin story and that is 1. Diana was in fact created by Jews like most every important comic book character, and so while it might not be a useful tool for analysis, that doesn't mean it didn't influence the writing choices whether consciously or subconsciously and 2. Greek mythology has its own stories of statues come to life.

(Sidenote, I'm currently reading - and almost done with - The Wolf and the Woodsman, and oh my God that book's discussion of the way stories can be shared across religions and cultures makes me so happy)

As for the Vision family - I think we have to go back to the base question at the core of my thought experiment (bc it is still very much experimental) regarding Vision even being a golem, which is, does he have a soul? Does his family have a soul? Does the reveal that they're based on other people make this better or worse? If Vision has a soul, did he always have a soul, or did he gain one?

I never got more than a couple of issues into Vision due to incredibly bad timing - it started exactly as I was getting into reading comics for the first time and it ended up getting pushed to the wayside, and when I say this whole thing has ended up on the backburner in recent months I mean it - it's a project I'm very interested in, but I've had both real life and other fandom matters to deal with since I wrote the Cap rant last spring. But here's my current theory, with my very vague memories of the few issues of Vision I read and what I've seen of it through other people's discussions of it.

If we take it as a fact that Vision is a golem, and therefore has no soul as of the Vision comic, he cannot truly create like a living person can, and therefore he cannot imbue the power of God into any potential protectors. There's also the fact that while Vision is made to be a hero, none of his family is made with the intention of being heroic. His "daughter" does end up joining the Champions and being an incredibly interesting character in her own right afaik, but he did not create her for that purpose. We do, however, have the aspect of the original story that almost presents the golem as a failed experiment - the golem has to be quote-unquote "killed" at the end because he broke the rules of Shabbat, and not all the members of the Vision family make it to the end, or even particularly far. But they don't die because of their nature - so again, false comparison.

I think that if I were to take Vision as a golem, he would have to stand on his own, and this question has actually got me second guessing the comparison between him and the golem more than anything else anybody else has ever said, so thank you for that. Genuinely, it's always good to have more material.

I still need to read literally anything with the original human torch in it, somebody push me to get on that.

Anyway, thanks again for the thoughtful questions! I'm really happy to have spent a half hour on this, it's been a while since I really have.

#ww #wonder woman #dc #vision #marvel comics #marvel #comics #jew tag #ask #astrid-goes-for-a-spin #gail speaks

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busybrain7 · 1 year

Text

These verses sum up the times we are living in right now.

You would think people would give God their thankfulness and rightful praise due to Him when you consider all that He has done, and all that He is capable of doing. But that requires having a place of reverence for Him, and acknowledging Him for who He is, thus coming out from a place of ungratefulness, foolishness, and unbelief.

Unbelief, in a world full of His visible glory, is hard to relate to.

Why would anyone test a God who created beast such as lions, crocodiles, dinosaurs, and great white man-eating sharks, who could all shred us to bits here and in the afterlife, and still think that God is some pushover who is timid and a liar with no rules, expectations, or consequences? That's complete foolishness and small-minded thinking in regards to such a infinite all powerful God.

He has clearly proven He means what He says time and time again. He is faithful and true, and not a liar like man. You cannot and should not place Him down with man's level because man is created and finite in abilities and thoughts. God is not.

Therefore, do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. (The created, man, devil, creature) but rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. He is the Maker of Heaven and earth who can create anything at anytime for any purpose. Don't test Him. You are ultimately the one who pays and so will your children. Please love yourself and them more than that. We're not here to merely play house. We have a much higher divine purpose than that. I promise you.

Instead, get right with Him. Appreciate the life He has given you by giving Him the praise and worship He rightfully deserves. Prove that you love yourself, others, and Him instead of being empty, heartless, ungrateful, self focused, and disconnected.

This is your time, this life only. Your days are all numbered, and after you die it is too late. For the spiritually dead cannot worship God. It's a choice you have to make in this life.

Believe the devil, and man, (the created), or, believe the one who created everything who gave us life; who died and rose again so that we may have eternal life with Him, who is capable of endless possibilities which no eye has seen, and no ear has heard. He is the place of love. He is love. Even our wildest imaginations couldn't vision what awaits those of us who have accepted His eternal gift of salvation. This life here is nothing compared with what's to come. I can promise you that. Clearly, if He's capable of all this that we know and see, I can't even fathom what's in store on the other side of Heaven, but it's certainly exciting to think about.

The world teaches the opposite of God, the world wants you to forget God; to be evil, to sin, to worship people, to be selfish, self absorbed, ungrateful, unholy, spiritually useless, to live for Satan, and for all those who belong to him, to follow after false gods, to follow false doctrines of men and doctrines of demons. They are pretty easy to spot nowadays, when one has been reconciled back to the Father in Heaven, the scales will have been removed from your eyes, and His Holy Spirit of Truth gifted to you, then you can see and understand the spiritual things that you couldn't understand before. Therefore come out from the deceit of the world and be set free!

Again, we are not merely here to play house, but to be reconciled back to the one who loves us the most. The cross has proven that truth. It also proves just how serious God Almighty is. This is our one shot to get it right. This is our highest, most urgent top priority here.

Without the King of heaven, you are nothing, and can do nothing. All your good deeds are like filthy rags when you step before His Holy Throne without being covered by the blood of His Son Jesus Christ. And you will have no excuse. He is just and Holy and must punish sin. How dreadful that day will be for those who rejected His Son.

Stop allowing outside influences, evil people, demons, the devil, false gods, witchcraft, and false doctrines to keep pulling you further away from the one (absolute truth) we have here on this earth, Almighty God and His Holy Word. Your soul is at stake, your eternal destiny is at stake. Wake up before your time, your chance, and your choice are gone.

Signed, a child of God that loves you, and is trying her hardest to snatch you from His all consuming fire.

0 notes

tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Subject: RAPTOR

Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:

I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.

This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.

Words: 20k+

You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.

Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science

——–x——–

Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them.

The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.

And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.

You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.

“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”

Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.

The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.

The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.

These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.

That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat.

Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.

The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.

Hawks has become their newest nomu.

The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”

You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”

The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”

The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.

Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”

You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.

Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”

He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.

“Um…Raptor?”

You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.

You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”

He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.

x---x---x---x---x

Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.

He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?

Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.

x---x---x---x---x

Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.

But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.

You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”

His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.

He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?

Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.

The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.

“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.

A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.

You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.

“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.

The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.

His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.

The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”

He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.

A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.

But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.

You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.

‘Sorry.’

He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.

You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.

The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.

You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #1: Fierce Wings

Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.

The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.

“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.

He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.

“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”

He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.

Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.

His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.

He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.

You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?

“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”

He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.

But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.

One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”

Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.

x---x---x---x---x

When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.

Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.

Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”

He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.

“Raptor, are you…bored?”

He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?

All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”

His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”

Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.

Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. “Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”

You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.

He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”

You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.

His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.

His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”

And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?

Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?

With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?

Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.

“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.

Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.

“You know how to play tic tac toe?”

He blinked.

“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”

Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.

After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.

Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.

“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.

Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.

“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.

“St…aay.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.

He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”

You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.

Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?

To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.

That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.

The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.

And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #2: Reptile

Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.

Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.

There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.

“Climb up here.”

“Slash this with your talons.”

“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”

His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.

It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.

The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.

They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.

“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.

His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.

Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.

“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.

“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”

“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”

The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”

Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.

Kill it.

He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.

Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.

The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.

Ah, so they can both heal.

It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.

His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.

The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.

His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.

So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.

“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.

“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”

Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.

“A complete waste.”

“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”

“What a sad display.”

“Pathetic.”

He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape.

But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.

A sad display, indeed.

“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!”

The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.

The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded.

The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.

“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”

“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”

“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”

“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”

So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.

Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?

“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”

The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”

His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.

Raptor doesn’t like it here.

x---x---x---x---x

Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today.

That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright?

The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.

“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.

Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”

His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”

He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.

“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.

Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine.

It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.

You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.

Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating.

Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.

“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily.

The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”

Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.

He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”

What?

“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.

His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”

Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.

It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.

“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.

Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.

You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”

You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?

Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?”

He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.

You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”

Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”

The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it’s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”

He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.

Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.

Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers.

“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.

A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”

His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.

The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly.

With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.

‘This is fucked up beyond words.’

You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…

When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…

‘Don’t do that.’

Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.

‘I’m really letting him do this.’

Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.

‘You’re sick.’

But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?

When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?

A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.

It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.

You snap out of it before that can happen.

Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.

And you fucking enjoyed it.

You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.

“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.

The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.

What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.

And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.

Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...

You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?

So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Examination

Quirk #3: Regeneration

Quirk#4: Heat Resistance

Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.

The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.

They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.

“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”

Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.

A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”

“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”

Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony.

He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning?

Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.

“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.”

They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.

The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.

“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”

The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.

One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.

The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:

Blue flames are to be feared.

He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.

Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.

“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”

“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”

“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”

“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”

Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.

“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.

“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”

“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”

The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.”

They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.

“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.

But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver.

He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel.

He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.

“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”

‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.

Raptor hates it here.

x---x---x---x---x

There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.

He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.

“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.

Hawks doesn’t respond at all.

That’s new...and very unnerving.

You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way.

“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.

His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.

“Don’t...go.”

His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”

He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding.

You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?

Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.

“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress.

His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”

You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.

“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”

And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.

He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”

With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday?

Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.

“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”

He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…

You can feel yourself heating up again already.

“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.

“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”

To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor.

It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?

“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”

When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.

You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.

Remember, shame is useless here.

He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.

Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.

At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.

“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.

The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.

“Calm.”

It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.

“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?”

He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.

The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste.

His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.

But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.

“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?

He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.

With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.

The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room.

When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.

His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.

A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.

You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.

“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…

“Hwrrrrrrr…”

You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you.

It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.

The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.

When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.

Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.

He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.

He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.

Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….

This abomination was going to be the death of you.

Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement. “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.”

Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.

The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.

Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.

You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.

“Hawks.”

The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.

“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”

What? When did you…?

Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.

Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.

Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.

You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.

This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.

You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”

The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”

“I said stop thinking!” Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about.

“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”

He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.

“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”

“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”

You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.

“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”

x---x---x---x---x

Hawks.

Flames.

Decay.

Death. Everywhere.

But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing.

Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating.

Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?

“No more questions.”

Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.

Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #5: Camouflage

Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.

You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.

So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does.

So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there.

He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.

“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him.

The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.

“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”

There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.

He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.

“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”

Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.

But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?

She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.

He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.

For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.

“Kill her, Raptor.”

“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.”

Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.

The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.

The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.

Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.

His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.

His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.

He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.

Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn’t crush a human’s bones with little effort.

He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.

Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.

One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”

“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said.

Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her.

“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”

Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.

An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”

“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”

Anger.

“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”

Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”

Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.

How dare they.

The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.

And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”

She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.

Raptor wants to get out of here.

x---x---x---x---x

You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.

That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.

It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.

The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.

You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion.

The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.

Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.

He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.”

Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.

He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”

He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”

A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with.

“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”

You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”

He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”

Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.

There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.

“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.

You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”

If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”

“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”

A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”

He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect.

Then he wilts and groans in defeat.

“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”

“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.

“Let’s help each other forget.”

And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.

He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.

Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.

It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there.

And it makes your walls clench.

You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.

Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”

He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.

He was laughing.

The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him.

He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?

Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.

“Want more?”

The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…

“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”

His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.

“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!” You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.

Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”

“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”

Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.

And then, slowly, his hips push forward.

The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up.

Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.

As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.

Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”

He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”

Goddamn him.

You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.

There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.

Good.

“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.

“Inside?”

Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.

He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance.

You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.

The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.

But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.

He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.

“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.

The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.

He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”

Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.

You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack. All you can do is reap what you sow and take it.

This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more.

Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside.

His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”

It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”

The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward.

Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you.

His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.

Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.

The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.

He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.

So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.

It’s scary.

It’s thrilling.

Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.

If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm.

Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition.

Just use me.

Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.

Just use me however the fuck you want.

Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.

His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….

Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.

Exhaustion…

Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb

Warmth...full...sleep.

x---x---x---x---x

“Get up.”

The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.

“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”

You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.

The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.

And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.

His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.

He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”

Oh shit.

“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.

“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”

His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.

“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”

If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.

But any sort of shame?

You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.

The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”

He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”

You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.

You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.

“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.

That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.

You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.

“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.

As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.

The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”

What?

Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.

When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”

No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den.

The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk.

“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”

He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.

Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.

“What. The. Fuck?” Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”

The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-

“Calm.”

A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.

“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.

“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-

Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.

Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.

“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.

He nods, staring apathetically at the body.

“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.

He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”

Once again, you’re not sure what to say to that.

He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”

Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.

“I want to leave.”

“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!”

“You want to stay?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”

The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.

Well then…

“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”

His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.

He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.

Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself.

“Ready?”

Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth.

Breath in. Breathe out.

A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.

“I’m ready.”

The door is pushed open.

x---x---x---x---x

Targets first spotted at 12:50

The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.

Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.

Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.

The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.

Targets escaped facility at 13:09

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED. NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.

Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.

I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.

But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.

#Hawks #smut #nomu #noumu #terato #monster fucking #hawks x reader #shh the doctors don't know about shirakumo #happy october?#tw blood #tw death

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: Missing Halves

Pairings: Variant!Lokis x FemAvenger!Reader

Summary: You were the one he couldn’t forget. The god of mischief’s former love before everything fell apart and he was condemned to a life of solitude. Now labeled a variant as well, you soon find yourself trapped in the void at the end of time. Confused and alone, you connect with the other versions of the man you last loved.

Notes: Kind of a quick one shot as I had nothing else ready to post at the moment. I hadn’t done anything for the Loki TV series yet either, so this is just a little something. The reader’s race isn’t really specified in this. They could be a human, Asgardian, or whatever you like.

Warnings: Angst, mention of character death, mention of past sex, a non consensual kiss at one point. But no smut in this.

Taglist: @calumance

My Masterlist

——————————

You looked up towards the sky, eyes wide as yet another of those Chitauri abominations undulated overhead. An otherworldly scream left the behemoth as it scraped across the buildings as it passed.

But you could only keep running, glass and metal raining down as you did your best to dodge the larger pieces.

In your comm. link, you could hear the stress in your teammates’ voices as they alternated from relaying their own locations to asking for help if anyone was still free. The battle was not shifting in your favor. And there would be no hope at all if that portal could not be closed.

“I’ve reached Stark Tower! Can anyone give me a lift!?” You called out.

“Loki is too far gone, (Y/N)! I already tried! Get out of there!” You heard Thor’s voice in return.

But you had no time to argue with the thunder god. You knew Loki would still be too resentful of his brother to fully listen to him right now. The wounds still too fresh of finding out the life of lies that Odin had created.

Loki had had his identity torn asunder, but frost giant or Asgardian, you still knew the man you’d fallen in love with. And you would not give up on him now when he needed someone more than ever.

“Tony!” You called out instead. “Please, we have no other choice! If anything, let me distract him. Someone else get to the portal, you have to trust me!” You now had stopped in front the building.

The Chitauri soldiers on the ground had taken notice of you as you readied a fighting stance. “Tony, any time now. A little outnumbered here…”

“Got my own problems! Trying to get to-,” there were sounds of violent metal crashing and static over the radio. “Goddammit! Jarvis, reroute power from that stabilizer. Gonna be a minute here, (Y/N)! Cap, you still on?”

“Incoming for backup! On your six, (Y/N)!” You heard Steve next, even the super soldier sounding winded as you looked behind you just in time to see that flying shield connect with several Chitauri at once. They fell like wounded dominoes, even as you took out several more.

You’d run out of bullets several blocks ago. But you’d taken one of their weapons next, a staff that shot out some kind of energy pulses. It didn’t really matter what kind of energy to you though as you immobilized one enemy soldier after another, burning and blasting holes through them.

For a moment, you and Captain Rogers were back to back then, as he spoke just to you. “Look, I doubt anyone else is coming. Not before these things overrun us here. If you think you can make it to the top of that building the old fashioned way, I think it’s worth a shot.” He paused long enough to throw and then catch his returning shield yet again, the blood of the creatures starting to congeal on its edges. “Can’t say I’m a fan of that guy up there even one bit, but I do trust you.”

“Thank you,” Was all you could manage. There was no time for anything more heartfelt as the two of you exchanged last glances before you forced your way back towards the already broken glass doors of Stark Tower.

“Good luck!” You heard Steve call back, himself then running on down the street and drawing the Chitauri’s attention away from you as he did.

Once inside, you saw the power was still on for now, but it flickered several times as you’d run across the glass strewn lobby. You couldn’t risk getting stuck in one of the elevators right now as you still felt the building tremble every time another explosion echoed from outside.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you’d started up one of the stairwells chosen at random. But you felt like a machine now, running up those countless stairs faster than you’d probably ever run towards anything in your life. Adrenaline, fear, and heartache were maybe the most powerful motivators there could ever be. It didn’t matter how many floors, or how much your calf and thigh muscles started to burn, you ran and ran.

But somewhere, maybe two thirds of the way up, there had been a much closer explosion. Your ears rang as you felt yourself falling backwards. You could taste blood in your mouth as you felt pain radiate all through you. You even blacked out for a moment before you’d opened your eyes again to find yourself bloodied and covered in concrete dust.

You could see daylight now through a massive hole where the building’s outer wall should have been. And a missing section of stairs that you’d just been about to cross before the injured Chitauri monster had crashed through it before flying on.

You could hear all the sounds of battle and death still outside, but you couldn’t let your thoughts linger on how close that may have been for you as you now just ran again and jumped the missing stair gap to continue upward once more.

You’d been here before, you knew where Tony’s executive suite was as you’d finally exited the stairwell.

“Loki!” You called out as you’d shoved open those doors. Everything almost looked just as it should. The bar, the furniture, only the panoramic glass windows were broken. Where Tony had been forced out against his will just a short time earlier you knew.

You paused only just long enough to see Loki’s back through the glass doors that led out onto the balcony and roof. The black leather, green cape, and golden horns, he was watching the battle from above, no doubt unable to hear you through all the noise from the ongoing war outside.

And you’d started towards him, only so many feet away from your goal now before a translucent rectangular shape emerged from nothing into your path. It made a sound as it did, several people emerging through it immediately, yet themselves wholly human looking. Not Chitauri, even as in the milliseconds that passed then, you’d already noted their black armor and the possible weapons gripped in their hands.

You’d lost the staff you’d been wielding when the stairwell had partially collapsed. All you could do was raise your arms reflexively, somehow even then feeling in danger before they’d spoken.

“Variant identified.” One said, albeit looking almost nonchalantly at some kind of device in their hand. Themselves upsettingly calm as if literal monsters weren’t darkening the sky all around.

You saw the others activate whatever weapons you assumed they were holding. You glanced back outside though to see Loki now walking away. He was moving back to go stand closer guard over the portal opening, farther from you.

“No! Loki!” You called again, as loud as you could as you abruptly made a run for it, trying to skirt around whoever these new soldiers now were.

“Not even a chance, sorry,” You heard one of them say, quicker than you could expect as they extended out that staff of their own. It barely even grazed you though as you’d tried to dodge just as quickly.

But it didn’t matter. Whatever their weapon did, you felt something almost akin to paralysis take hold. Yet, with one of your feet still frozen far off the floor as you’d been in mid run when it touched you.

How you didn’t fall forward, didn’t make sense. None of it made sense as they just kept talking before slipping some kind of collar around your throat.

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline. You’re coming with us.” The one speaking then motioned to the others as the paralysis abruptly ended.

You did fall to the ground then, unabashedly single minded though as you immediately tried to run towards the outside again, to try and reach Loki.

He was completely out of sight now. But just as your hands reached the doors, you were abruptly back to where you’d been, back across the room in the spot where they’d first confronted you.

Fighting, you fell, but then ran again.

And then again you were in that same spot where you’d been before. You should have been afraid, but somehow you were only angry. Somehow the strangers were doing this to you. All of New York City and honestly the world were now in the balance, and they just wanted to mess around? Who the hell were they even!?

It only took two times for them to reset you that way before you lunged for the soldiers themselves instead. You knew how to fight bare handed. And you had no qualms about doing whatever you had to to finish the mission. Of course your individual love was partly selfish, you didn’t want to lose Loki for good. But you were here to save the others as well, and you wouldn’t let the Chitauri overtake this world either.

You’d die rather than give up now.

“Do we really have to deal with this?” One of them asked, almost bored sounding still as you found yourself falling to that same spot on the floor yet again before your fist could connect with their face.

“Violent one isn’t she?” Another commented as you almost landed a kick the next time.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why they get along? You know what though, no, we don’t have time for this. Literally. We’re getting close to redline here. Just prune her and reset the timeline.”

It was getting harder and harder to get up every time. You stood again one last time though, glowering at them. “I’m trying to save us all you idiots!” You spoke, voice breaking in frustration. The adrenaline was finally failing you, all your body starting to hurt again as you now felt the beginnings of panic.

“Nah. That’s our job, variant.”

And that condescending tone was the last thing you heard.

They’d encircled you. You couldn’t block them all as one had struck you with their staff again. But this time it was wholly different.

A searing pain and confusion went through you as you could see your body dissipating before your very eyes. Just horror, and then….nothing.

You had failed. You had failed everyone.

———————————

There was no perception of time when you’d next awoken. You could only remember those last moments so clearly, that torture of seeing Loki walking away from you. Him not even knowing you were there at all before those soldiers had attacked you.

As you started to sit up, you found everything still where it had been. Even though you’d watched your own body disappear as if you’d somehow been vaporized, you still had your arms, your legs, your hands.

You flexed your fingers within the torn leather gloves. You were still a bloody mess, your body suit cut and ripped. The concrete dust was still all over as you tried to stand.

You may have some smaller bone fractures considering the resulting pain, but nothing that would keep you down as you tried your comm. link on instinct, touching the tiny device still in your ear.

“Hey. This is (Y/N). Does anybody copy?” Static was all that returned to you. “Thor? Nat? …Anybody?”

You took a deep breath, not yet ready to turn the radio off even if it seemed like such a longshot now. “If you can hear me…I’m still alive. I just…I don’t know where.” Was it some kind of side effect of the Tesseract? Maybe more portals had been created than Loki had ever intended?

“Leaving comm’s on for now. Hope to hear you guys again soon…”

It was all you could do as you looked out into the distance. You didn’t feel like you were even on Earth any longer. A cold wind blowing across a wide plain of grass and debris that seemed to have no rhyme or reason.

There wasn’t another soul to be seen. So you just started walking, taking off that damned collar they’d put on you as you did so.

——————————

“I’m just saying, we look for a better chair for me. The one I have now, it’s a bit small.” The largest of the people now milling through the new arrivals in a debris pile spoke up.

“Maybe if you didn’t eat so many Twinkies.” The child with them answered with an eye roll, picking up a torn and dirtied magazine as he considered it.

“Hello, it takes calories to support all this muscle!” The larger man retorted, flexing one of his arms in an exaggerated gesture. “I can’t help it that the rest of you always look like someone could push you over with a feather! And besides, he got a pool!” The man scoffed lastly, motioning to the alligator now clawing into some cans beside them.

The creature opened its mouth with a deep hiss in return.

“Which he says he found on his own, thank you.” The oldest looking of them spoke up then, translating haughtily, before he walked away a bit from the others. He heard them continue to make a few more snide replies to one another afterward, but he was only watching the ground for anything of use to place in his satchel. Of course one ear still always listening for that distant rumble of Alioth as well though as he meandered on.

It wasn’t until he heard that distinct change of tone in the child’s voice, that air of warning which caused him to also look up again.

“Hey! Someone’s coming!” The child called out lowly to the others.

“Not one of that fool’s gang again? I’ll bash their skulls in this time.” The largest man threatened, readying his hammer.

“You say that every time…” The child growled back, “And no, no I think it’s…a woman?”

“A what?” The large one replied incredulously.

That would have been a rarity indeed. At least a woman on her own anyway. Most typically were snatched up by the roaming gangs fairly quickly.

As the older man looked towards where the child had been pointing, he did quickly agree that the individual walking towards them had more the gait of a female. Though naturally there was always a spectrum of such things. There was really no telling, without actually knowing.

“Should we stand our ground?” The older man asked, specifically more to the child, even without taking his eyes off the figure growing ever closer.

“We outnumber whoever it is, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t stay,” The boy answered. “I’m not going to let them steal our supplies…”

But the older looking man just kept staring at the stranger. Something starting to nag in his instincts from deeper within as the figure became more than just a silhouette in the distance.

It was something so foreign, yet so familiar. An ominous swell rising within him as his heart rate began to quicken. That walk…no, it was more than just a woman’s. He knew that stride, that confidence.

Even the uniform, though so damaged, he had seen it before. On one of the very worst days of his life he had had to kneel before that exact bloodied uniform and the lifeless woman then within it.

“Oh my god,” He breathed abruptly, in a tone that surely none of the others had ever heard from him before as he then hurried back down the debris pile, far quicker than he looked as he tried to close the distance to her.

——————————

You’d been walking for so very long. This was truly a wasteland you’d decided. But some things were familiar and others were not. You’d finally seen the shape of damaged buildings in the distance though, and had headed towards them in the hopes of finding any other living soul.

Any living being, and hopefully some sort of answers along with them. You’d been right at least too, as you’d seen the distinctive shapes of people then.

Just three of them, and there was no way to know if they’d be hostile or not. But you had to take the chance, and once you were sure they’d seen you as well there was no point in turning back.

But you had tensed a little when you saw one break away from the others, now almost running towards you. But whatever combat training would have reminded you to be at the ready seemed to pause as your brain hitched at the very distinctive horns on the helmet of the man now bounding towards you.

“(Y/N)!?” He called out in disbelief, yourself only further hesitating at the surprise of hearing your name from the stranger.

As the man reached you, the look on your face must have only been of caution and equal parts confusion as you stared back into his amazed expression.

His excitement seemed to teeter on the verge of pain however as he stared into your eyes and the lack of recognition then within them. “Of course…of course you would not recognize me this way. Even for gods, age does eventually make its mark.” He remarked somberly, albeit also blinking to fight off that wet shine starting to form in his eyes.

“My dear…my goddess, it is I. Look past this weathered face, these clothes that you never would have seen in your time.” He begged. “The eyes, love. Look at my eyes and tell me you do not know me…”

The voice, it was different of course. But something you could not deny was familiar to you. The cadence, the terms…only Loki ever called you his goddess. At least he had before he’d fallen under the influence of the scepter and the Tesseract.

You did stare deeper into those blue eyes though as your mind continued to churn. “You…want me to believe that you are Loki?” You eventually asked aloud as if just trying to buy your own self time as you felt that unease growing which you could not explain. Something about this man made you unable to deny the insanity of his claim outright.

But so many other things had already happened to you today that you never would have believed before either.

“It’s alright,” He assured you regardless of your hesitation. “I just…I’ve never seen a variant of you here, not once. What happened?” But he seemed to regret the question just as quickly. “No…no, that’s too much to ask you right now. Please, please let’s go somewhere safer. I’ll tell you everything. I can explain everything that’s gone wrong. You…you don’t know how I’ve missed you.”

“I…” Regardless of everything else right now, you did feel that he was sincere, that he would not harm you. And you wanted answers. But you hesitated, looking to the child and a larger man still staring at you both in what looked like shock themselves. Was that also some large reptile near their legs? “Who are they?” You asked aloud. Could you trust them either?

“They’ll understand once I explain. Please,” He offered you his hand. “Come with us.”

Even in that simple gesture, it sent a chill through you. The elegant way his fingers curved just slightly, a movement you’d seen so many times before. Loki pulling you into his grasp to dance, wanting you to take his hand as you walked the royal paths and gardens of Asgard…how could this man know to mimic even those smallest traits?

And why did you not resist? Your hand grasped warmly into his own as you let yourself be led away.

———————————

You sat oddly inside what had evidently once been a bowling alley. A glass of wine that’d been poured from a box now in your hand as an alligator lingered at your feet still looking at you quite curiously.

But you needed far stronger alcohol than this as you effectively tried to summarize the lengthy explanations you’d already been subjected to. “So you’re saying…there is no such thing as freewill. That any time we deviate from our previously destined fate, we’re immediately erased to this purgatory to die?”

The others just nodded, before you only continued. “And that my…my deviation, or my nexus event as you called it was that I was supposed to be killed at Stark Tower that day?” It still felt disturbing to even say something so morbid out loud, but the moment the TVA had tried to take you was just before you would have reached Loki.

If you were never supposed to reach him, only death could have stopped you. You knew that deep down.

The older Loki only answered you softly. “In my timeline, dear, it hadn’t been just an empty hole in the stairwell for you to cross. The Chitauri swarmed in through it like locusts. Even you couldn’t fight them all off then.” He looked down again, thoughts seeming to drift off again to tragic memories only he knew.

“I was the one that found you…” He continued despite himself. “But for you to be here now means that I had to be defeated by the Avengers…I had to stay on that dark path to serve my purpose to the ‘sacred timeline’. And mourning you, knowing my actions led to you losing your life while you’d only been trying to save me…there was no real coming back for me after that. Though Thor did try…”

You glanced to the other Lokis. They had already said that they did not know you. You thought perhaps they had been pruned too soon before you or a version of you at least could come into their own lives. Or maybe you hadn’t existed in those timelines at all? But regardless, they all seemed to be experiencing some sort of vicarious emotion from the older Loki now as no one looked anything but somber.

Yet really, for now only one more question lingered painfully in your mind as you finally had to ask. “But if I had reached you…if I’d gotten to that rooftop in New York, and begged you…would you have given up your conquest even for me, Loki? Would my sacrifice have even mattered?”

You felt you had a right to know. You had thrown your life away for that intention either way. Clearly, if you survived the battle of New York, you were only then thrown to the void by the TVA to die. And if you didn’t survive New York, then you were just more immediately dead.

But the cruelty in your question may have been too much at last as you saw his hurt blue eyes meet your gaze again.

Yet he had nothing left to hide it seemed, answering anyway even through the clear struggle of emotion.

“I…I think I would have listened to you at least. I mean, you would have had to change something by facing me on that rooftop. They wouldn’t have deemed you a variant otherwise, my dear. But…I must shamefully admit, knowing who I was then, I may have only tried to force you to join me. Rather than give up my perceived kingdom…I would have wanted you to rule it at my side.”

“What?” The more boastful Loki you had deemed him, interjected. “Like get married? Take a queen? Lokis don’t get married my friend. And Lokis do not share power.”

“Spoken like a man never in love.” The older Loki just countered with a sad smirk. “Lokis can lie as long as they want. We do not want to die alone either. We’ve all always wished for a true companion. I just got closer than most of us.”

You tried to wipe at your own eyes without the others noticing. So very rarely had you ever heard Loki use that word love directly to you. But if this really was just the man your own Loki would one day be, if this is how your Loki had felt, you could only continue to wish that it had been true. That he had sincerely loved you somewhere deep down, even after everything he’d done.

But regardless, you’d never see him again now. If there was really no way out of here, if time stood still in this place, it was hell in the almost literal sense of the word. An eternity of suffering, special made for all of you.

As you tried to force those terrible thoughts back away though, the tears begging to escape, you felt a rough nudge to your ankle.

Looking down, the alligator Loki just rested his snout on the top of your foot, looking up at you with if you weren’t already at the edge of sanity you might have tried to convince yourself was not a look of sympathy now coming from a reptile.

You mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him regardless though, hearing only a satisfied type of growl as he closed his eyes, seemingly content to enjoy a nap against your boots.

——————————

As could be expected there was no sense of time in the void. No real days or nights. But the boys had accommodated you as best they could you thought. Making a separate area for you to have a little privacy even within their Loki den.

It was the older, or as he jokingly preferred, the classic Loki that you were closest to of course. He was the most like the Loki you remembered. The one you still had silent hopes to one day see again.

You acted as a comfort for one another, with long conversations and sharing old memories none of the others could understand. You knew to him you were family he’d never thought he’d get to see again. And you were happy to help him relieve some of that ancient guilt as you assured him time and again that you did not blame him for your death in his timeline. You had made your own choices. The consequences were just what they were at this point.

But there was one odd thing you had picked up on after a while. He didn’t like you to leave the den at all. It was almost a fatherly kind of protection by now really. But you still had to push back on that. As Alioth or not, you had to have some fresh air here and there.

And you wanted to be useful, to help find resources with the others as well as do your part to protect them.

Eventually though, you did finally realize what it was he was really so concerned about. Not Alioth, or the gangs really. Or at least not a gang on its own, but rather its leader.

Even classic Loki could withhold truths from you it seemed, as you’d eventually been out looking for food or more drinks one ‘day’ you’d still call it at least even if time never truly passed here. Kid Loki and his Hi-C’s were something else as fast as the boy could go through those things whenever you could find them.

But boastful Loki had been your only partner on that particular hunting trip. And you’d been far enough out of each other’s sight when you’d heard a distinct whistle.

You froze immediately, those few special memories springing to mind at the long lost sound. That was the ‘hey, I don’t want to call for you all the way across the palace courtyard, but come meet me in my bedroom now’ whistle as your heart leapt into your throat.

Classic Loki wouldn’t do that even if he remembered it, you also knew that instantaneously. He’d never been anything but a gentleman to you since your arrival. So you didn’t know what else to expect as you’d somewhat fearfully turned around.

“Hello, love.” Loki almost purred, in that deeper voice you’d usually only heard when he was either very aroused or very angry.

But of all the Lokis you’d seen to this point, this was the first one that had the same face as your own Loki that you’d been stolen away from. Though the clothing was very different. A suit and smaller horns as he walked closer with his hands in his pockets, and an odd political button on his chest.

“I’d heard the lesser Lokis had adopted a woman into their group. But imagine my disbelief, trying to reason it must only be yet another boring version of ourselves. And then, a little spy tells me it’s not a female Loki at all. But a woman at least one of us had once wanted to call their queen….color me quite interested then.”

You straightened, cautious, yet unable to stop listening, to stop looking into his eyes as you’d wanted to see him again for so very long. But was he really like your Loki? All the Lokis were different, even classic Loki had lived so many centuries without you that he’d grown and changed from the exact one you remembered.

The way this Loki leered at you though, it invoked more the Loki who had obsessed most over the Tesseract. The one that had killed Agent Coulson right in front of the rest of you.

“Loki….” You answered, partly surprised still, but partly in warning as he neared ever closer to you.

But he wore your lover’s face. It was wholly unfair as he only smiled in pleasure as his name left your mouth.

“You know, in my timeline we did become lovers as well. But I didn’t let you join the Avengers…not until you promised to betray them for me at least.”

You stared, clearly disbelieving. “And how did that work out for us?”

He just chuckled, a dark sound. “Oh, just with you dead in Stark Tower yet again. You tried to double cross me.” He was now standing directly in front of you. “Love, I can only imagine how many times you’ve died on Tony Stark’s property by now.”

“Did you kill me?” You breathed, really starting to consider calling out for boastful Loki, not that he could possibly get to you to help in time.

This new Loki’s eyebrows raised, but he only looked your body over, not even trying to hide his want. “You really think I would ever plunge a dagger between those lovely breasts? Now, maybe something of mine between your legs of course…but only when you begged me for it, as you did quite often.”

“Oh? So it was just sex in your timeline?” You asked bluntly, the question legitimate, even if you might still be talking just for the sake of it, trying not to fall prey to him as you took a quick step back. But deep down that implication could still hurt if you let it, even though classic Loki had assured you you’d truly been loved in his universe. Maybe every timeline really was so different, that for other Lokis you’d just been someone else to bed.

What were you then to your own Loki? But you only glared then as this Loki laughed at you abruptly.

“And what would that matter if I only wanted physical pleasure? I don’t remember you being so sensitive. In your timeline, dear, did we only whisper sweet nothings and coddle one another late into the night then? Sounds awful…tell me, why in Hel would I want a kitten when I could have a lioness?”

That was it. His mocking tone was only growing and you weren’t going to be tormented like that, no matter whose face he had. You turned your back to him to decidedly walk away.

He was not your Loki.

But you can’t say you were surprised either when he immediately resisted your attempt to leave. All Lokis had to have the last word after all.

What did surprise you though was that instead of him spitting any additional venomous or insulting words to you in response, you just felt his hand grab your wrist roughly before he spun you back around and slammed his lips against yours.

You tried to push him back in reflex, but he only caught you around the waist, holding you almost painfully tight as his tongue then forced its way into your mouth.

It was somewhat frightening, yourself not used to the force. But albeit him tasting just the same as you always remembered him. It was so confusing, both knowing that this was but wasn’t right. He was a Loki, but not the one you’d let explore your body so many times before. In reality, you were being kissed by a total stranger.

There was a true cruelty to that as well that no one should ever have to experience, the familiarity enough to make you want to believe your loved one had been returned to you. Yet the heart knowing it was just wrong enough, and not your loved one at all.

To your further shock though, it was him that actually broke the kiss first. And as you stared at him, trying to understand, that is when you finally saw something more than arrogance or coldness in his eyes. You saw that trace of sadness all the Lokis had before he was able to conceal it again behind his own glare.

“You aren’t her.” He said so plainly, but with the air of someone who had just lost something very important all over again.

“No,” You said quietly, regret starting to tinge your own voice as you finally understood. He was looking for the same thing you were. He wanted someone he could no longer have.

You heard an annoyed sigh escape him, even as he didn’t let go of you. He sneered a little afterward, irritation evident as he just began talking again. “You know, in my timeline you did actually make it to that rooftop. But I’d gone after the other Avengers already. And I’d stopped Romanoff from getting the scepter, so there was nothing the idiots could close the portal with. I was on the verge of winning!”

He had your wrist still, his cold hand squeezing it harshly as he looked into your eyes while the anger of the memory grew. “But the humans were going to vaporize the entire city with one of their bombs rather than lose to me. So you decided you had to save us all.”

There was clear accusation in his tone, but you just kept silent as he confessed this to you.

“I hated you for it too. I couldn’t understand why you would sacrifice yourself for those insects. If I’d known your plan for even an instant, I’d have taken you and fled that place. I’d have done anything, not to have just been left with that scene that day. You took the Tesseract with your own hands. You pulled it from the machine and broke the doorway. But it was active then, an infinity stone at near full power. No one there could have handled it bare handed as you did and not have paid the price!”

You stared at him. This was not the anger of a man that had lost just another toy from out of his bed. You did have meaning to him after all if your departure had torn this big of a hole through him.

But could he really not understand your motivations then? Why were they all so stubborn!?

“You really think I would have killed myself if it wasn’t to save you too, Loki!?” You shot back, even the fear of Alioth not enough to quiet your rising voice now. “I wanted you back! Everything I did, you were my goal! Everyone else was only second. Everything else was always second. I wasn’t any less selfish!”

It was the truth. It was all only the truth. Maybe you’d only gotten what you’d deserved after all. Maybe you did deserve to be here, a punishment fit for two.

But he was just staring at you now. And you couldn’t handle that either before you were the one to kiss him this time.

It was still wrong, but he didn’t fight it as he closed his eyes. This time letting you lead just enough to give the action more than just that sense of forcefulness and lust. You tried to kiss him how you would have kissed your own Loki had he been standing before you right now. Desire yes, but affection as well, that special emotion reserved for the most important person that had ever filled your heart.

And when you finally did pull away again, it was clear he hadn’t wanted you to stop as he opened his eyes once more. Regretfully he frowned, his voice the quietest it had been yet. “And is that how you and he used to do it?”

“Yes,” You answered. Only surprised again when he suddenly let you go.

“I may not be your Loki, and you not my…well, you.” He spoke, albeit backing away now. He hid it well, but something still seemed shaken in his confidence that he’d come here with. “But come find me again, love, whenever you tire of being treated like a ‘lady’ by that old man and his vagabonds. Come to me whenever you’re ready for some real physical comfort from a true Loki. That’s the best I can offer you.”

Your eyebrows lowered, the deja vu so strong somehow as he walked away. In the beginning of your relationship years ago, Loki had wasted so much time trying to prove to himself that he didn’t really need you. Just because he was so afraid of the implications and the potential consequences deep down. And it was like going back to the very beginning in that moment.

But you couldn’t say what would happen now. You could only try to keep surviving. Maybe he deserved to be alone, but maybe he didn’t. What was really right or wrong when time no longer even existed for any of you? “If Alioth doesn’t kill me first…eternity sure is a long time. So never say never I guess. Right, Mr. President?” You taunted a little back in reference to his attire, just loud enough that you were sure he’d still hear you.

To his credit, he didn’t even pause in his stride either. Himself not looking back, refusing to give you that. But you heard that sardonic tone drift back none the less. “Now that does sound a bit more like her…I’ll be waiting to see if there’s any more in there somewhere. Maybe you’ll surprise me one day.”

Once he was finally gone though, you stood there in a little residual frustration for just a few more moments before you finally began walking in the opposite direction yourself.

By the time you’d rounded a few more hills of debris, back to where you’d last seen boastful Loki, you were actually a little surprised to see him still standing there.

He hadn’t collected a single piece of anything you saw, and the momentary bit of shock on his own face to see you already back told you all the rest of the story that you needed to know.

So here was President Loki’s ‘little spy’.

“Please tell me you were at least going to trade me to him for more than just a bigger chair.” You grumbled, not quite sure yet how much of a scene you wanted to make about this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He tried, just straightening up into reflexive lies.

“Don’t.” You waved a hand. “I know all of you too well. I just want to know I’m worth more than a damn chair in this place. Can you at least answer the question?”

You saw him hesitate, no doubt that endless fountain of creative deceptions spinning full tilt as he tried to decide on which route to take.

“Loki,” You just sighed at him at last though, too many emotions in the last few moments to stay angry for very long. “He didn’t hurt me. You didn’t hurt me. So it’s not worth telling all the others. Whatever plot you have going on, they wouldn’t be surprised anyway. And if you just want to pretend that I’m an idiot, then go ahead. But let’s at least get some things to bring back to look like we did something out here.”

While he stared at you, you just grumpily followed through on your word, starting to collect anything that looked useful and placing it in your bag as if he wasn’t even there.

“I know you aren’t an idiot.” His voice finally spoke after a few more moments though making you glance back over.

He looked as annoyed as you however, just continuing. “He acts so tough doesn’t he? Like all of us I guess. But I really didn’t think he’d let you go after all his talk. What a pretender.”

You raised an eyebrow, yet answering all the while going back to sifting through the trash. “Well, I think he just realized I wasn’t actually the same person as who he lost.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t be.” Boastful Loki admitted, yet with a little weight to his tone that was a bit unusual for him.

When you felt his eyes still on you, you spoke again. “What? Look, the sooner we can get some supplies, the sooner we can go back. Are you going to help or not?”

His chuckle surprised you a little before he did finally start looking through the debris as well. “You know, if you can keep this failed trade to yourself, I think I’m safe to tell you one more thing.”

“I’m listening.” You responded, albeit only thinking he was going to tell you about some other predictable betrayal he’d been thinking of.

“I lied when I said I did not know you.” He admitted.

That was a little more interesting, but you chose not to show it, just saying, “Oh?” If he wanted to talk about it much further, he would. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. You weren’t much in the mood to hear about yet another tragic way you’d died at Stark Tower today.

“Well, sort of. I mean, your name was (male version of Y/N) there.”

Okay, that was a new one. You were a man in his timeline? You couldn’t help but make eye contact with him again then. “Then how do you know it was actually me?”

“I was skeptical at first. Obvious differences in appearance of course,” He agreed. “But…the more you talk, the more you remind me of him. The things you say, the way you say them.” He smiled a wistful kind of smile then that instantly reminded you of classic Loki, as if he were reliving some old pleasant memories.

It was odd, as boastful Loki had never yet offered such a personal confession to you. But you couldn’t help but smile too, sensing the evident fondness he must have had for that person. “Was he handsome?” You questioned almost a little playfully.

“Oh, what, you fishing for compliments now?” He retorted tauntingly, but answered quite decidedly. “Of course he was! I mean, to me he was obviously. A warrior too.”

“Of course.” You answered.

“But it was more.” Loki continued sincerely, “He didn’t mind my bragging you know? He listened. He even enjoyed it I think. He didn’t judge me…”

You smirked a little, knowing that particular role all too well. Maybe some things never really did change. A few constants through all the timelines that even the TVA couldn’t stop. “It’s called love. You guys just take too long to label it.”

He hesitated, that sad look coming over him for just another moment. “I do miss him.”

You didn’t have to respond then for him to know how much you understood. You all missed your other halves…deeply.

But perhaps a real hero would emerge one day and do away with the TVA at last. Someone who could free the timelines and the multiverse for every single one of you to exist together again in your own branches just as you always should have.

Maybe one day.

——————————-

(End. Thank you for reading!)

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