#SHE'S NOT WRONG BUT SHE WENT FOR LEGION'S THROAT

[kit-williams]

Glaubenskraft

The big Black Legion/Luna Wolf story. Because of the dark nature of this story aka the rape and other heavy themes like with other dark themed stories there is no use of you or I. There will be an OC that is going to be sent into the dark depths. I will say this with scensarity. When I write for 40k I do take advantage of the grimdarkness of the far future. You are all probably aware of this if you've read a lot of what I write. This is one of the fics I pushed to the limit. I'm also going to apologize for combat scenes I'm not very good at them.

tw: Rape (dead dove do not eat), Forced Pregnancy, some mind break, stockholm syndrome, Breeding and impregnation talk and kinks, clothed male unclothed female for one part, and please let me know if there is something I have missed

Zhur Painbane

Dolli Quest: purple eyes, prosthetic left leg, prosthetic left hand, scars on her arms, large aquilia tattoo on her back from shoulder to shoulder, red hair

Cadia would fall... it was inevitable really. The crusade would succeed but Zhur Painbane was simply here to cause terror within the Cadian trenches as they push hard. His furred cape was black and sooty still hanging together since the days he was a Luna Wolf... a faded wolf head holding the center red gem on his chest. His golden mask turned upward as the booming crack across the sky as the Maelstrom seemed to lash out against the Imperials.

They were trying to surround him. How cute. He thought as they shot at him with heavy munition.

"Dolli call artillery!" He heard someone shout. As his head whips to the soon to be dead Cadian shooting him in his head!

"Yes Sir!" She shouts as she forces Zhur to snarl and reel back slightly to avoid a shot in the eye lens. You're going to die slowly little rabbit. Though he might have fun with that one... he enjoys the shape of her face... the strong jaw and the vibrant amethyst eyes that practically glow. Zhur wants to see that face of hers look hopeless.

He began the quick slaughter as he watched her run down a section of the trench, hopping over holes and dead bodies. When she got far enough... he shot a few rounds and rushed after her.

Dolli got the radio warning of the Chaos Space Marine on her tail. She unloaded a few hand grenades feeling them blow up behind her and causing a chain reaction with unexploded ordinance behind her or grenades. Even the heat of that behind her kept her going as she knew he would be right there. She slid herself to the vox. "This is Vox Alfa 4 fire on our position. We have a Charlie Sierra Mike running through the trench. Emperor Protect our souls."

"Emperor Protects." Was all she got on the other end of the line.

The heavy and chunky thud of her rifle bought her a few seconds as he rushed down upon her. She pressed the barrel of her gun to his throat and pulled the trigger several times. His head jerking back as she barely missed his vocal cords and spinal cord. Snarling as those black and gold fingers dug into the blood filled mud as she overcharged her las and burned several holes into his arm. She kept him on his toes as he played with his food... Dolli knew he was playing with her... she just had to be enough fun.

Zhur heard the whistling and tackled her into the bunker nearby as the earth shaking rounds threw dirt into the air. He was snarling as he could feel his organs shutter. He ground his sharp teeth looking at the body under him. He wasn't a dedicated slannshi to fuck a warm corpse. His fingers cupped her chin as he looked at her, nose and ears bleeding from the explosions and most likely ruptured her organs.

He turned away and walked toward the entrance. She would have made a fine subject to his experiment... a refinement to Honsou's design. Honsou was onto something but he did it wrong... the human body is already capable of flushing out the rejects naturally. Zhur was on the cusp of success... just the last female he had went insane and had died outside of his control but she gave birth to what was essentially a space marine.

Dolli pulled out her knife as she looked at the space marine just standing there. She was going to die... she accepted this... but if she could be the reason this traitor dies she could be happy with it.

Zhur snarled as the knife buried itself into his side and he heard the mechanics of a priming grenade. His honey brown eyes flicked to his side seeing Dolli there with her hand on the knife and the grenade in her hand. She was making a reach to try and tangle herself against his armor.

Dolli doesn't know what happened exactly in that moment as she had stabbed him and was ready to meet the Emperor. The next moment the grenade was out of her hand and her breath was knocked out of her as she felt herself being cradled. Had a loyalist space marine come and saved her? No... it was still black and gold armor against her... NO... NO NO NO NO NO. Dolli began to thrash as nothing good ever came of being saved by a Black Legionary.

He snarled over his vox down at her as she realized her hand holding the grenade was gone and she didn't feel the way he just cut the metal off. "You little bitch. Thought you could get the drop on me?" He snarled as he began to rip the leather and thick cloth of her trousers, crushing the metal and the armor plates on them.

She kicks and tried to slam her prosthetic leg into him trying to get it to go beyond what it was suppose to do. She could hope it would decide to kick a hole in his chest but so far that wasn't happening. "Die in a hole you filthy traitorous scum!" She spits and snarls at him. Dolli had a dreaded feeling of what was going to happen she tries to grab her knife but he throws it away. Its a horror of the battlefield no one talks about... well when one of the enemy's entire perversion is sex... she remembers being warned as a little girl what could happen. She remembers how many of her friends couldn't stomach the idea... it wasn't guaranteed that it might happen... most likely you'd be blown apart but... the thought that you could be an unlucky victim. Dolli never thought it would be her.

Agent Quest?

"Behave!" Snarled Zhur as he grabbed her organic leg and threatened to snap it.

"No!" She screamed back as Zhur pressed his hand down on her stomach as he pushed himself between her legs and pulled his cock out. Zhur would play nicer after this... if she survived.

For Dolli she gritted her teeth as she could feel the cockhead pressing hard against her entrance. She couldn't even kill herself to save herself from this... either it would be a slow painful death via internal bleeding or she would be found later... discharged and always given pitied looks as if there was some sign around her neck that everyone could notice that she had been defiled by a traitorous and tainted space marine.

Zhur watches her face... he expects that fire to go out... to see that delicious helplessness... the begging and pleading for mercy where it wouldn't be found. Instead he found a fire... warp fire in her amethyst eyes. How she was still snarling at him... she looked like one of the corpse emperors living saints right now... the way her eyes glow with righteous anger... the paleness of her skin smeared with dirt and blood... how her hair is splayed out making a halo a dirty halo full of dirt, blood, sweat, and soot. Zhur snarls as he pushes into the unwilling cunt.

Tears prick the corner of her eyes as she could feel it all and the pained cry as he forced himself into her dry. She hissed with pain as he bobbed his hips working each painful inch deeper into her sex.

Mattis go get the others she's having an episode.

Mom?

Mattis go!

Mum please... wake up.

Zhur felt himself bottom out and moaned. He let her cunt spaz about him as blood, his pre cum, her piss, and her own forced arousal helped get him this far. He leaned his head back and savored the feeling of her around him. She glared up at him with wet eyes still looking like a fallen saint. Zhur was hardly a word bearer but perhaps he had found someone who was chosen by the corpse... he grins at the thought of stealing her away from him.

"Oh I think I'm going to do more than just fuck you till I feel better... there will still be that." He moved his hand to her throat as he had to be gentle given he was still fully armored as she was at an awkward angle. "I'm still mad at you little mortal... I didn't appreciate the headshots and nearly taking out an eye." He chuckled as she replied with a snarl.

"You are going to be part of something much more than yourself."

"Fuck you! The Emperor protects me and I will never join Chaos!" She screamed causing him to laugh.

"Silly mortal. I'm currently fucking you and who says I need you to join. Oh what will be happening to you... please do pray. Pray to him and let him see what will happen to you." He purred as he was kind enough to let her adjust to him as he enjoyed the feeling between her thighs.

Dolli refused to scream... refused to cry as she just glared up at the grunting marine above her. She tried to focus on the distant gun shots and explosions instead of the lurid wet squelches that was starting to happen. The wet fapping noise as she felt herself become aroused. Remembering the woman from that class explain that it could happen... its nothing about want... sometimes the body is like a machine and when something goes in there it reacts like how it is suppose to.

For Zhur he was panting and grunting and growling above her jerking her hips to his over and over again...

What's going on?

Mum is having an episode.

Mama's done so well... what triggered it?

I don't know Zekyr!

Calm down Naxos.

... it felt like heaven between her thighs. Oh yes he was going to keep her. Zhur felt so warm inside of his armor as he started to jerk her hips faster. Oh yes he was bringing her back. Zhur groaned as he pulled her tightly against him and spilled inside of her.

For Dolli she didn't know what to expect next... she couldn't stop her thrashing as he grabbed her head and slammed it down. Making everything go dark.

However there was no throne to greet her in the dark. Just a whisper... I'm sorry. The weight of those words sat like a stone in her stomach as she knew she was still alive. Her eyes opened for brief moments... all she could see was black and gold... profane shapes that hurt her eyes... twisted individuals draped in skin... someone touching her face and grabbing at her aquilia before she saw them turn to red paste as the space marine holding her snarled something in a foul tongue.

Dolli felt sore... there was a throbbing in her face... the throbbing between her legs... she wasn't on a shitty medical cot. Dolli was on a soft bed... she opened her eyes she was naked save for her aquilia... her leg prosthetic was missing as was the reminder of her forearm prosthetic. She had been cleaned and that feeling made her feel sick as she had an idea who... seeing hickies blooming on her thigh and one of her breasts.

"Ah welcome back." A clear voice purred to her. Honey brown eyes looked at her from a face that seemed to have some 5 o'clock shadow growing in with short neat black hair shaved to a military standard. His canines were long and so was his tongue but he was dressed in a black compression shirt and some shorts. Dolli was confused... she would have mistaken him for an Ultramarine or even a Blood Angel if it was not for the star of chaos on the door. "So Dolli, that is your name if I remember right. I'm going to tell you what is going to happen."

She looked at him unimpressed, "I assume rape me again and twist me to Chaos?" She said before spitting at him.

Zhur liked his little wife clean. Her hair was a deep red that looked better clean... oh he was eager to see it long and see it pool under her head like a blood pool. "Oh perhaps if you continue to resist it will be rape. But no... in fact I want you to try to resist... I want you to cling to the Emperor as long as you can as I think I like your fire. But no... you're going to help me make more space marines." He said running his tongue over his teeth looking at her on his bed.

Zhur quickly realized when he became a Luna wolf all those years ago that he felt a deep longing for something... he should have been like his brother... having a wife on his hip to come home to... he wanted that. He didn't know why he did and perhaps if everything had succeeded and the Astartes were no longer needed he would have settled down, probably several times given his life span, and had his own wife on his hip. He couldn't explain the deep covetous need it bloomed into and seeing Dolli clean and laying on his bed once again triggered that need.

Lucky for him... she would be the first test of what was his final plan for an improved demoncubula. Though less demons involved and a lot more dark mechanicus involvement and flesh shaping psykers. "No snide comment on that?" Zhur says tilting his head to the side before continuing, "You see I realized that getting pregnant was hard as was staying pregnant... the human body is very good at detecting genetic defects and reabsorbs the fetus'... oh look at me explaining your biology to you." He coos softly as he walks closer, "You are going to be my little wife. " He grabs her chin as she looks at him with wide eyes, "And we're going to make a happy little family."

"You're insane." She hisses softly.

"Perhaps but that is what happens when you want something so badly you are forced to make it yourself. Your womb will be modified and you will be given an organ called a progenoid that will feed into your modified womb. You will give birth to Astartes whom all they need to do is grow up and get the remainder of their organs with no fear of rejection. You," He cups her face, "Will be my reward."

"What."

"Oh yes I already proved that it worked. But I want to make sure it works for multiple babies..." He crawls on the bed and watches her try to crawl away but he holds her in place, "You will also be modified in a few ways to handle my... hmmm tender affections?" He chuckles softly at his own joke. "A wife must be able to handle her husband isn't that right my little wife?" He groans and Dolli watches as he gets hard.

She pushes against his head but he runs his tongue along the valley of her breasts as he grinds against her, "Oh my little wife I shouldn't... you'll be having surgery soon enough... but I'm so excited." Dolli scratches at him as he pushes his ring finger inside of her this time to try and work her. "See darling I can be nice I'll make you feel good." He pants with perverse pleasure, "You'll make such a good mommy for our boys. Won't you? Yes... say yes... you'll be such a good-"

"Mommy?" Dolli finally blinks as she looks up at pair of bright purple eyes, belonging to her eldest Thallos. She looks around seeing three other concerned looking pairs.

"B-boys. What." She looks down at the railing she is holding onto with a white knuckle grip.

"You were thinking about Da- um Zhur again weren't you?" Thallos says.

"You can still call him Daddy, Da, Dada, Dad, or Father if you want I know you all still hold affection for him." She says with a sigh as they look guilty at that fact. They look like a mashup between Horus and their father with a few features from her. She was happy they all had her eyes... "Boys don't feel guilty for what your father did." She no longer flinches when calling him that... she hardly realizes she calls Zhur their father.

Dolli Quest was now an inquisition member along with her four boys... Thallos Quest, Naxos Quest, Zekyr Quest, and Mattis Quest. They were an unidentified 4 man astartes group that just would affectionately refer to their inquisition liaison as mother sometimes. That was the cover the Inquisitor gave her... she couldn't help herself as they were her boys. Zhur gave her four little angels that she loved so much... they were a happy little family.

Dolli knew something in her broke during her time with Zhur... she never fell to chaos even during what eventually turned out to be century with him. But, she was the one who wanted Mattis... she seduced him to give her one more little boy. She was scared that they would have to leave Mattis behind given how close he was to his father when Thallos wanted to help her escape.

She pulled Thallos close before opening her other arm and feeling her boys get close. "I love you four so much... don't ever think I don't... I love you all from the tops of your heads to the bottom of your toes... to the sky above... and the earth below... to the stars beyond... and forever and ever after." She whispered to them kissing their cheeks or foreheads as she let tears fall. Dolli broke... because she couldn't find it in her heart to hate Zhur anymore.

However, she wouldn't go back... she was a loyal Imperial citizen! She wiped her face and straightened up, "Alright boys we've got a mission!"

------

Mattis was a good boy... all of his sons were good boys in his eyes. But Mattis could not keep anything hidden from his father. It is how he learned about Thallos' plan to steal his mother away. Only reason Zhur allowed it and in fact helped it succeed was because he was going on a long deployment and had a feeling someone was going to try to kill his precious little wife. The last kiss he gave her still warmed his lips... the uncertainty in her eyes... nearly giving up the ghost herself it would seem.

Zhur smiled as he watched on the screen as he could see his Dolli! She walked with her retinue and their sons. Zhur keeps telling himself that he allowed this... he allowed all of this... but really the separation was killing him now. He wanted his boys back... he wanted his wife back. He inhales hard and calms his eager voice as he connects to the private family vox channel and purrs out, "Daddy's home"

Thallos: Mommy

Naxos: Mum

Zekyr: Mama

Mattis: Mom

#tw: rape #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced pregnancy #dead dove do not eat #warhammer 40k #tw: yandere #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Space Marine #Yandere Black Legion #Black Legion #stockhom syndrome #smut #tw: smut

[deannastrois]

Aerti unchau, ashkaidan stargate, and chlodine fake date pls!

aerti unchau is in fact an aerith/tifa uncharted au I came up with with @edains like four years ago (haha what is time...) in this au tifa worked with barret to steal artifacts and return them to their rightful land but I as putting her more in the elena type role of uncharted and then aerith showed up as the last survivor from a place that had been ransacked years ago looking for the team to get her things back, so really less uncharted more generic but it started as an uncharted idea

"I can't really see you firing a gun." Tifa said, her voice low. "I can, Tseng taught me." Aerith laughed, her giggling echoing in the quiet van. She put a hand over her mouth and whispers an apology to Barret who grunted and went back to sleep."Not that I love doing it." Aerith said in a stage whisper to Tifa, leaning in across the way to talk to her. "Oh." Tifa replied, taken aback. "Is it...were you..." She faltered with her words and trying to find the right thing to say. Aerith smiled at her but for once it didn't meet her eyes. "It wasn't by choice. But! I can still take people in a fight." She winked at Tifa. "And I'm willing to fight for my peoples things. They've been gone for too long." "We'll get them back," Tifa promised, hoping beyond everything she could keep that promise, "And then we'll make Cloud carry them all back for us." Aerith giggled again and this time her smile was genuine. "The perfect pack mule."

ashkaidan stargate is also what it says on the lid where they're on a stargate team with shep as the leader and the rest of the me1 squad, and then me2 squad was it's own group, and me3 squad. legion was like a replicator style machine in this universe and tali was from the race that built the replicators but I never got around to writing that point in the story I just really liked it.

Ashley was fairly certain she could time how long the gate took to dial a planet to a T in her head. She'd seen it well over a hundred times but when the last connection was made and the gate whooshed open with a brilliant flash of blue and white it always made the breath catch in her throat. She shifted slightly, trying to get rid of some of excitement and nervous energy that always came with the start of a mission and traveling to a new world. The M.A.L.P. had shown them that this world would be covered in ice and snow though it shouldn't have been given the planets location to the sun. Kaidan nudged her as Shepard did one last inventory check before they left. "You sure you ready for this one Gunnery? If it gets to cold let me know, I've got a trick or two to keep war." Kaidan teased. Ashley rolled her eyes. "It doesn't get that cold up in Vancouver LT, don't act like you're the expert here. Just make sure your mom packed your sweater." She shot back and began walking up the plank to the gate on Shepard's signal. "That was one time." She heard Kaidan mutter behind her and tried to stiffle a laugh. She wasn't laughing by the time the cold hit her face, instantly making her eyes water. She scrambled to put on the glasses she should have before entering the gate. "Sure you don't need help?" Kaidan asked, his voice coming in her ear over the comms. Whatever response she was going to come up with was killed when Shepard held up her hand to signal for them to cut the chatter. "We're not alone, team."

chlodine fake dating is again what is says on the tin, these two start dating mostly to troll nate and sam and whoops it's real

Sam stared down at their joined hands and then back up at Nadine and Chloe. "No." He said. "Oh yes." Nadine gave him a sharp grin in reply. Chloe tried not to laugh at Sam's face of utter incredulity. "Something wrong Sam?" Chloe asked, as casual as she could. "You don't get more of a cut for being a couple." Sam finally huffed, crossing his arms. "Now hang on, that wasn't on the table. But it could be." Chloe let go of Nadine's hand and shook off the sudden chill as smoothly as possibly. "Let's talk number." Nadine turned her face, dropping her head onto Chloe's shoulder and making it look like she was either telling her sweet nothings or how to get a larger cut of the loot to Sam. In reality Chloe could feel more than hear Nadine's muffled laughter.

#replies in thirty minutes or they're free #camalyng

[mareenavee]

If Anyone Can Do This, It’s You

For the prompt: Riverwood Thank you to @kookaburra1701 for your amazing Calder in your fic universe!!! I NEEDED to write a pining Good Bean Nord after all you've shared! Hadvar was the perfect candidate. Thank you to @changelingsandothernonsense also for ALL the word sprints and for helping me keep my spirits up in the middle of a hurricane of chaos. This is for you guys <3

This is an AU where we answer the question: What if Nyenna and Hadvar traveled together to Whiterun, and then went on to Solitude to join the War effort?

Main Fic Universe is Dragonborn & Far-Star Marked and its prequel series is The Heart of the World. Caught up on The World on Our Shoulders and want to read more AU situations? Check out the series If Only Time Changed Its Mind or Take My Hand, Erase the Past Forever.

Without further ado:

If Anyone Can Do This, It’s You

Riverwood was peaceful, despite the raging chaos of Helgen burning in the distance, and the giant black dragon that had flown off over the mountains only hours ago. It was ridiculous, come to think of it, that things could still be so idyllic. That the river still flowed with water and not blood and fire seemed like some kind of illusion. Or miracle.

Hadvar held Nyenna’s hands in his own. He’d closed her fingers around a pouch of gold that his aunt and uncle had given him for her. She was meant to go to Whiterun, to tell the Jarl about the dragon—but he was having misgivings about sending her off alone. There was something different about her that he couldn’t quite place. The way she’d fought that bear in the cave, it was as if she’d become someone else entirely. It was like all fear melted from her as she aimed that borrowed bow. He knew Bosmeri folk were generally trained to be archers, but she’d said otherwise. That she’d been sheltered and could still do that was incredible.

“Nyenna,” Hadvar started, unsure exactly what he wanted to say. What would all this accomplish, asking her to stay with him? Would she take it the wrong way? They’d just survived a brush with death, after all. But it wasn’t exactly like that…was it? He cleared his throat. “What if we go to Solitude instead?”

She looked up at him, orange eyes almost startled. “Didn’t you say I should go to Whiterun?”

“Ah yes, but…you could join the Legion. Maybe do some real good once you’ve gotten in some training, what with the War going on.” It wasn’t exactly what he meant to say. It was more that he didn’t want her to go. She had a strange pull to her. He hated reading, normally, but being around her reminded him of the kind of book that draws you right into the story so much so that you forget reality for a moment.

“I am no soldier,” she said, pushing a stray silver curl back behind her ear. “That, and who is going to get word to Jarl Balgruuf if not me?”

“We can go together, then take a carriage to Solitude. Hopefully General Tullius made it out of Helgen just fine. If not, there’s contingencies, and I’ll need to be debriefed before I get sent on my next mission. And you can enlist, then begin your training.” Hadvar let go of her hands and folded his arms over his chest. The coins in the pouch he’d given her clinked together, the only noise in the silence as she thought about her answer.

“Do you really think I can make a difference like that? That I am…good enough to be a soldier?” Nyenna asked. Her voice was so soft. She still looked baffled.

“Of course you are!” Hadvar said, perhaps too quickly. He felt his face flush and closed his eyes for the barest second. He heard Nyenna chuckle which only made him even more embarrassed. He let out a sigh. “I mean, yes. You’ve already got skill. All you need is training.”

Nyenna nodded and tucked the bag of coins in her bag. “Alright. The worst that can happen is they turn me away, right?”  -> Read the rest on AO3.

#MareenaWrites #a whole fucking ton #yes she does #AU Story #Alternative Universe #inspired by KB's Calder #Hadvar/Nyenna #Hadvar/LDB #LDB & Hadvar #The World on Our Shoulders #Nyenna #If Only Time Changed its Mind #The Heart of the World #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #tes #tes fic #skyrim #skyrim fic #skyrim civil war #elder scrolls #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr #prompt fill

[olliparty]

At First Sight

Before sisters Vaenya and Vysera can take The Iron Throne they have to marry. Before they can marry, they have to meet their suitors. While Vysera is steady in her future Vaenya is unsure as she meets her betrothed for the first time.

Word Count: ~2.4 Words

Tags: First time, smut, Oral Fem receiving, m/f, fingering

A/N: I know very little about Games of Thrones, but I like the vibes so I wrote a little something. If something is wrong, shut up I'll cry. I just thought it was neat. Enjoy

Princess Vaenya of House Targaryen stands to the right of The Iron Throne. She resists the urges to shift her feet and trifle with her fingers. Her father, King Aerymor, is seated, calling for the presentation of her betrothed. Her sister Princess Vysera, stands to his left and her betrothed beside her.

To secure their dual claim to The Iron Throne, dual nuptials are required. Vysera was not nearly as apprehensive about her fiancé. She had no reason to be. Ser Coran of House Martell. He is handsome and charming. He has won his fair share of tourneys. He was all but excited to become Prince Consort.

The doors opened. Lord Royan of House Baratheon stood beyond the threshold. The normally cavernous hall seemed to pale in comparison to his sheer size. A large stag laid atop his heavy armor. Royan The Eradicator from Storm’s End, he stood unnerved. The legends of his battles mark his steps. His armor clangs with the tales of his victories in each step. He is the most fearsome warrior in all of Westeros. He is said to have disposed of a fleet of soldiers with the smallest of his fingers. He does not leave the battlefield unless it is silent. 

The rumors warm Vaenya’s cheeks as he descends before the throne. Just days prior, she found herself pacing in her sister’s quarters.

“He’s a barbarian!” She calls.

“He’s a man.” Her sister reasons.

“He is a monster.” She panics.

“He is a man.” Vysera repeats.

“A man who acts as a monster! He must be garish.”

“He’s actually quite handsome.”

“He has never yielded. How am I to know he will bend to be my Prince Consort?” She picked at her fingernails.

“.....did he not accept the terms of your betrothal?”

“Yes, but-”

“We get the protection of his legions and they get a Dragon with their name, more access to resources, and everyone gets a more connected Westeros.” Her sister reasoned. 

Vaenya released her hands, “You’re right I-” The doors opened behind them, Coran floated on the cool air from the hall.

“Princesses.” He bowed. “Forgive my intrusion, but is it true? Vaenya is marrying The Eradicator?”

“Yes, why?” Vaenya frowns.

“I am merely excited, selfishly, and for you and the kingdom!” 

“Why is that?” The Princess relaxes.

“We used to tell his stories during our trainings. It’s said that he caused so many casualties on the first day, of what would have been a war, that the Lord had to surrender. Then, The Eradicator took his head. He truly earned his name. I’m excited to share a position as him.”

“I’m marrying a brute.” Vaenya threw her hands to the ceiling, dashing to her own quarters.

That man kneels before her, presenting his sword. He makes oaths of fidelity and loyalty, to serve and protect his Princess, who is to be Queen. Vaenya hears none of it. She is taken by this man. He is a large man, but a man. When he lifts his head, his inky waves fall to frame his deep, dark eyes. He is gorgeous. Vaenya hears herself accept the terms of their engagement and the room erupts. The Eradicator Royan rises. He sheaths his sword and takes his place beside her. 

Her father makes some speech about connection and fortune in Westeros, but the blood rushing in her ears makes it difficult to concentrate.

“I meant what I said.” The Baratheon whispered. “I take my role very seriously, Princess. You will never worry about your safety again.”

Her throat went dry, “Th-Thank you, Lord Royan. I appreciate your dedication.” She takes a step closer to the throne.

As Royan settles into his quarters and becomes more at ease in Kings Landing, Vaenya is anything but. He watches her grow more disturbed as the days go by. She does not make conversation. She avoids his gaze. She does not linger in spaces that he does, she leaves as quickly as she can. When he reaches for her she pulls away. She smiles and she laughs when she does not know he is there to witness. He will fail in his role if this continues. 

One evening, he asks for an audience in her quarters. At dinner. In front of her father. The two trek wordlessly to her room. She enters and quickly makes space between them. He closes her door. Royan turns and the two study each other for a moment. Vaenya has propped herself on a wall, with her arms over her chest. He smiles to himself as she fiddles with the fabric of her sleeves. Upon noticing his observation, she unfurls her arms and motions to the room.

“Make yourself comfortable.” 

He sits in a chair across from her, “Thank you, My Princess.”

“Why have you requested this audience?”

“Do I frighten you, Princess?”

“No,” she bristles. “I…. I am…unsure of your character.”

“Why?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes unwavering as she placed hers elsewhere.

“You are called ‘The Eradicator’ for a reason, are you not?”

“I am.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Surely, you know I would bring no harm to you?”

For a moment her eyes found his. Their stare filled the lull. She saw his passion and his drive. “I am unsure.”

He sighed, dropping his head, “That is disappointing. No matter.” The soldier removes his vest and the tunic beneath it. He took slow, small steps to close the space between them. “I was a soldier. A fearsome one, that is true. But, that is no longer my role. I am to be your husband. Prince Consort is my role. You are my charge. My every movement, every thought, every breath, belongs to you. I would lay beneath your father before Westeros for him to take my head before I allowed anything, let alone myself stop me from fulfilling my role.” He stopped steps before her and stretched his arms to her. “I came to you unarmed. Please see for yourself. The mirthless solider you believe me to be would be foolish to do so.” He finally caught her eyes. They are lilac, hard with concentration.  Her white curls are pulled away from the gilded copper of her face. He watches her every thought before she takes a step closer to him.

“I would think a man as skilled as yourself would be a weapon as well.” Vaenya muses. She places her hand in his, then drags it up his arm. Royan almost smiles to himself at the flecks of indigo he catches in her eyes as they find each scar and mark from his past life.

“I am a weapon that only you can wield.” he assures. He watches her hands, soft but irritated from her constant picking, make their way down his chest. She stops at his waist. Her fold into unsure fists. “You hesitate, My Princess.”

“How am I to be sure you carry no weapons beneath your…. Your trousers.” She mumbles, her eyes cast down to the floor.

He moved his hands in front of hers, “Would you like me to-”

“No!” She jumped. “I-I mean, no thank you. That is unnecessary.” She shifts her feet and places her hands on his waist. “I will do as I did before.”

“As you wish.” The Baratheon placed his hands behind his back and took a single step to widen his stance.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her hands very gently grazed his mid section and both his legs. She stood and met his gaze again. “You are honest. I am sorry for my original apprehension.”

Royan relaxed his stance, “It is to be expected. However, I hope you understand the extent of my allegiance.”

“I think I do.” She smiled softly.

“Is there something I can do to make you more sure?” He raises an eyebrow.

She chuckles lightly, “You said you would follow me every order?”

“Yes Princess.”

“Would you kneel before me?”

“If you told me to do so.”

“Then Kneel, Lord Royan.” She ordered.

“Yes, My Princess.” The Lord sighed in relief as he placed himself on one knee and then other. When his hair fell away as he looked up from his position, his gaze held such revenge, such obedience, Vaenya felt something within her stir. He watched the look of her eyes change, and he smirked. “Is there something else you would like of me, Princess Vaenya?”

“Would you…” her confidence falters. She looks toward her door, then to her bed, then back to him. “Would you… touch me?” The lord cleared his throat. “Touch me, Lord Royan.”

“Of course.” His right hand was firm as it traveled up her leg and rested on the back of her thigh. His other hand caressed her knee. She felt hot under his touch and focus. Her hands gripped and ungripped her skirt. She opened her mouth and quickly closed it. She tried again, but bit her lip. Royan left hand squeezed her lightly, “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“I’m not sure I know how to ask for what I want.” She says through her bit lip.

“Would you like me to show me what I know? You may stop me whenever you wish.”

“I-I think I would like that. Show me what you know, Lord Royan.”

“As you wish.” He hummed. The Lord very slowly raised her skirt and placed himself under it. He dragged both his hands up her thighs to her hips to grab her undergarments and inch them down her legs. Once removed, he brought his hands to the top of her supple thighs and gently pulled them apart. He placed a small kiss to her clitoris. She jumped at the sensation. The soldier tightened his grip as he began to lap at her folds. Vaenya gasped as she fully relaxed into his touch. It seemed the Baratheon was quite knowledgeable. She quickly raised her skirt to watch his ministrations. As their eyes met again, the man below her winked before quickly sliding a finger past her entrance and applying more than ample suction to her bundle of nerves. Had he not wrapped his free arm under her butt, The Princess surely would’ve fallen.

As she kept his gaze she felt something build within her, “Royan! R-Royan, I feel…. Gods… I feel…”

He removed his mouth from her and added a finger, “I know, I know. Do you want me to stop?”

She flushed, “I-I don’t know.”

He gently thrusted his fingers, “Do you trust me?”

“I-I do, yes. I trust you.” 

“Good, then just relax.” Royan very quickly caressed the spongey spot found within The Princess and returned his mouth to its post. That feeling built in her a lot faster and hotter this time. Her hands found purchase in his hair as her hips rocked against his face. She babbled his name, pleas, anything that crossed her mind until she finally reached her peak. The pleasure knocked the strength from legs and the wind from her chest. She heaved as Royan slowly removed his mouth and his fingers.

“What was that?” she panted.

Royan chuckled at his fiancée. Her eyes were blown wide and he could see a slight tint of red poking from beneath her cheeks. “That,” he begins as he scoops her into his arms, “is called a climax.”

Vaenya's lashes fluttered as she came down more, “Is that within your role as my husband?”

“Yes, some would argue it is my only role.” he grins.

“Are there other ways to do that?” Vaenya beamed at him. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as her smile nearly reached her ears. He would give her a thousand orgasms if that meant that she looked at him this way.

“Until we are wed, that is the most I can do.” He hummed, pushing open the doors to her bathing area. “However, once I am your husband, we will find all the way to make you reach your peak over and over again.”

For a moment the Princess was quiet, pleased. She snuggled into the broad chest of her betrothed. Then she quickly sat up to meet his eyes again.

“You can do that as well? Climax? How do I make you climax?”

“Don’t worry, we will both have our fair share.”

“Good.”

#got #gameofthrones #black!oc #black!fem!reader

[onlyoccasionallyvisible]

Lyle working himself too hard and getting sick

A couple stories up, Lyle staggers like he's been punched, a hand coming up to catch himself against the metallic pillar he’s working at, his knees wobbling. From the ground floor, Rokk sees him absently raise his other hand to eventually rest his fingertips gently at his hairline.

“You okay up there?” The silence in response is long, but as his concern starts to build the quiet is broken by Lyle blowing a dismissive hiss of breath through his teeth.

“I thought you had a new years resolution to avoid being the ‘mom friend,’ Cos.” Lyle teases, turning on his heel and making his lean against the pillar look more casual; practiced poised instead of hunched. He oozes cool on command in a way that is almost comedic and has Rokk actively resisting rolling his eyes. The Earthling has been punching in a precise algorithm for the past hour, line by line with the dedication of a surgeon, and the slight sour edge to his tone betrays some actual frustration. And as Rokk observes him, at least as well as he can from the harsh angle and distance between them, his movements are smooth and purposeful once again. Clearly feeling the other’s stare, Lyle waves a dismissive hand in the direction of the Legion Founder before refocusing on his task once again. “I’ll be fine.” He insists over the beeping keypad. “Especially once this sprocking update is finally implemented and working.” 

The platform Lyle stands on is only a few feet wide and equal parts long, arched around the large main pillar that hosts the guiding mechanics of the room. There were easier computing hubs to code at throughout the room, but for some reason one of the smartest and most acrophobic members of their team insisted he had to be at the highest one for this specific adjustment. 

“I’m sure it’ll go exactly as planned” Rokk calls, flexing his fingers where he’s gently holding parts of the maintenance hub and technical core, one of many throughout Legion World, in temporary magnetic stasis while Lyle works.

“Tell that to Brainy. You should have heard about how much grief he was giving me about it.” He can practically hear Lyle frowning as his input pattern continues, and can’t help but smile to himself—the exact expression is too easy to imagine. “But I’d rather we lock it into place now and not wish we’d done it later.” 

 What, Brainy didn’t think the project was worthwhile? Imra’s question echoes, unobtrusively, through both of their heads as she observes the room’s multiple status levels from the main control panel located near the room’s entrance.

“Not for the time I put into it,” Lyle mutters, distracted. “Can’t tell you how often he’d come into the lab and complain that I was still digging through the same data. He only finally gave me some space after we go back from the T1045 comet mission. But at this point even I’m sick of it.”

Rokk frowns. “You told me you were going to pass on the T1045 mission.” They’d argued about it, actually. Right in one of the main hallways. Many Legionnaires had stopped to watch the show. The new recruits were still talking about it. “You know, since you volunteered for the Durla one right before it.”  

“...I was.” 

“But?” 

“But.” Lyle makes the word sound like a full sentence, clearly trying to end the conversation. After a long, expectant silence his acquiescing scoff echoes around the metallic room and he clears his throat before he continues. “But, part of the instruments being used were based on my research from a few years ago. If something went wrong I wanted to be available. It’s really not a big deal, Cos, I was mostly observing.” 

“It’s a big deal, Lyle, if you’re over hours and over working.” 

The steady beeping of the lines of code stalls, and when it doesn’t resume he glances up and is greeted with Lyle’s bemused face peeking over the edge of the upper deck platform. “’Over hours’, Rokk?” Lyle wipes the back of his hand across his brow a couple times, grinning cheekily. “What, are you going to report me to the Legion Union?” The grin transforms into a wicked smirk. “You gunna ground me?”

Rokk works his jaw, then looks away. He’s not embarrassed, he’s not blushing, but there’s something about Lyle’s attitude that has always put him somewhere between ease and edge. “I’m just saying you have a bad habit of overdoing it.”

Lyle hums loud enough to make sure Rokk can hear it, accepting the observation easily. The rhythmic beeping of his inputting begins again. “Don’t we all?”

That, Rokk can’t deny.

From there, they fall into a content silence. The minutes stretch, punctuated by Lyle’s work and the slight creak of the metal machines weighing against Rokk’s abilities. Even Imra’s presence in their shared cerebral space becomes a gentle hum, quiet and comfortable. He lets out a long breath, pressing out the air from deep at the bottom of his lungs, and feels every muscle in his shoulders loosen, settling against the minute strain. 

“Lyle!” Imra’s cry is a knife, so harsh he can’t even tell if she screamed telekinetically or not. Rokk looks up in time to see the Earthling lilt at a harsh angle away from the maintenance board. Lyle’s hand reaches out in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but his grasping fingers are slow and disconnected, only wrapping around air. His staggering, weaving feet take him back, back away from safety and... and... eventually, horrifically, Lyle stumbles right off the edge of the platform. 

It’s really not that high. Even with Lyle’s fear of heights Rokk has seen him conquer leaps far taller without the use of his flight ring. The stealth focused Legionnaire was rather cat-like that way; twisting before he hit the ground and landing with far more grace than any one person should possess. 

But something in Rokk’s gut tells him no graceful save will come. No last minute twist and breathtaking recovery. And he’s right. Lyle falls. And falls. And falls.

So Rokk crosses the room in seconds flat, using his Legion ring to propel his strides, extending his arms and managing to catch the other Legionnaire just before he hits the ground. The momentum makes him stumble, but the Braalian quickly rights himself, hauling the Lyle's deadweight up at the knees and shoulders. The machines around them, no longer held stagnant, buzz to life in speedy rotation. In his arms, Lyle disappears and reappears in a jittering wave, like a bioluminescent tide is crashing over him again and again. Rokk feels the fluxing ability vibrate against every place where their bodies press.

"Lyle? Lyle!" There’s no response. Lyle’s head remains listed back, still but tense. Expression pinched. His skin has taken on an ashy hue, grey at the edges except across the high line of his cheekbones where he’s flushed an alarming red. Sweat is matting his bangs to his forehead. His breath comes in short, desperate pants that end in a horrific wheeze. But before Rokk can really, truly assess how his friend looks, he disappears again in invisible, patchy waves. Even his ability looks stitched together at the seams, bare-thread and worn. Like a injured animal desperately flailing in one last feeble attempt to defend itself. Panic sets in before Rokk can even recognize it, sour in his cheeks and jaw. He only has to look up at Imra and catch her gaze before she's off, flying out the door to get help. 

Sinking to his knees, he tries to lay out the prone Earthling. Freeing one hand, Rokk tugs off Lyle's headband so he can press the full expanse of his palm against his friend’s forehead. It sears. The iconic piece of fabric falls to the floor, sopping with sweat. "Come on, come on..." He moves his hand from Lyle's forehead to his unnaturally warm cheek, patting it. Lyle's eyelids flutter. "That's it, wake up Kid." Brown eyes open halfway, pupils blown wide in the artificial light. They list over in Rokk’s direction then roll back as Lyle goes limp once again. “No, no, no don’t—“

There's movement at the doorway and Rokk turns as best he can with the burden in his arms, hoping it's Imra already returned with the medical team, a healer, anyone.

Instead, Brainiac 5 walks in, eyebrows locked in a cynical arch poised for debate. He’s lazily brandishing a hovering holopanel with one hand like a baton. “Norg if you’re quite through with this diversion I need you to assist with my—“

But then. But then his gaze, sweeping across the room with abject boredom drags down to Rokk's arms. To who is in Rokk's arms. To who is in Rokk's arms sprawled out and silent and unmoving and disappearing unsteadily like a sparking, dying electronic. And the Coluan stops. He stares long, hard and unrelenting and it's like the whole room takes a collective short, panicked breath: once, twice, thrice.

Brainy's free hand tenses and flexes sharply. The lock of Brainy's teeth as his jaw snaps shut is audible, defining, even from so far away. Then he's crossing the room in sharp, long strides.

Rokk swallows. "He passed out." Brainy comes to crouch across from him, a green hand going to Lyle's neck. But as he watches those green fingers gently press against Lyle’s pulse, the other boy again disappears — only this time he stays invisible for a few seconds. Rokk tries to not think about what might have happened if his powers started malfunctioning mid-fall. And then they both watch as the invisibility starts to crawl up Brainy’s arm, freezing only as it reaches his upper arm like a computer virus hitting a firewall. They stare at the phenomenon, silent. Shocked. 

“What should we—“

“Don’t move.” The holopanel Brainy had been carrying multiplies, taking on the purple hue of the Coluan’s personal programming, and each shift to hover over their prone friend. He uses his free, visible hand starts typing into the one closest to him rapidly. That bright green gaze darts, but never strays far from where they know Lyle lays.

Slowly, finally, Brainy’s arm fades back into view and it’s only when it’s fully revealed once more that Lyle appears again. During his disappearance his nose has begun bleeding in thick, dark clots that run down his chin and collect at the collar of his uniform. Brainy clicks his tongue, frown lines deepening in his brow. But he continues to press against Lyle’s pulse, fluttering like a hovering hummingbird -- Rokk can feel the soft yet frantic magnetic pulses of it against his skin. Can feel the unnatural heat radiating off of him in oppressive waves.

The Braalian remembers waking up in a cold hospital in the wake of the outpost wreckage. He remembers looking, desperately, seeking the shape of Garth and Imra at his bedside and finding only Lyle. Lyle sitting and looking so very small in the vast space of the room around them. Lyle with a busted lip, a bruised face and hollow eyes. Lyle who didn't say a word yet so perfectly, tragically, explained everything he needed to know. Lyle who met his grasping, gripping hand with such equal sorrow that their fingers bruised and shook together. Rokk adjusts his hold on the other Legionnaire. Tighter. “He was inputting the data on Level 3, then he just... fell.″ Brainy eyes him, then looks up, assessing the small platform above them. The maintenance pad blinks innocently. 

"I'm going to kill him." Brainy states, cold, intentional. Together they watch the temperature reading on his nearby med screen climb and climb and climb. None of them are from Earth, but by now they both know the readings start bad and only get worse: 102, 102.5, 103, onwards. A small, tinny alarm starts buzzing from the assessment tech; Warning, Danger, Emergency. The Coluan’s mouth becomes a thin, tight line. "We need to get him to the medbay immediately."

"Are we really okay to move him?”

“I’d prefer to wait for a transporter, but it appears that the longer you hold him the more he’s injuring himself so no, we will not wait.” Brainy gestures down Lyle’s prone form between them, and together they watch him flicker out of view once again. They watch the invisibility make it’s way up, up, now to the curve of the Coluan’s shoulder. Then their gaze mutually shifts to Rokk’s own arms: each of point where Lyle’s body presses against him fades from view in a staggering, jittering, patchy crawl. He tastes ozone on his tongue. It is only then that Brainy removes his fingers from Lyle’s pulse, gesturing the once again visible arm between them pointedly. “For some reason that I cannot gather it seems that during this abnormality his body is trying to make anyone touching him invisible as well. And since that’s not how his powers are supposed to work, even in a healthy state, his body can’t physically handle it.”

Lyle coming back into view gives Rokk an excuse to turn his gaze down. He can feel Brainy’s calculating eyes on him but he refuses to look, although that action in and of itself might have sealed his guilt. After all, he was the one that Lyle pitched the idea of training his abilities to. It was at the beginning of that long, empty, yawning year that followed after the Outpost disaster. When they’d both been desperate for any form of achievable evolution they could find against the massive mountain of their mutual grief. He’d supported Lyle. Encouraged him. And now here he is, holding Lyle’s head up so yet another nosebleed can run it’s course under Brainy’s gaze that feels more accusatory by the minute.

"Cos?"

Relief is like a rope being snipped. He sags slightly, and Brainy’s hand snaps up to clutch at his shoulder and keep him upright. "Yeah— Yeah, Kid, it's me. You with us?"

Lyle doesn’t open his eyes but turns towards Rokk’s voice, a distant frown twitching across his features like each muscle had to reconnect with his brain. Under long lashes, the dark circles are now apparent against the harsh pallor of his face. Grife, how long have those been there? How had he not seen them the minute that his friend had walked in the door to start this upgrade?

"Cos, I was...” Lyle swallows a few times, then tries again: “I must’ve… Did you see what line of code I was on?"

"Lyle Norg," Brainy snaps, leaning into the space between them and digging his fingers into where he holds onto Rokk. "Shut up or so help me--"

"Oh," the corner of Lyle's mouth lists up instantly, features relaxing. "Hi Brainy."

Rokk has a front row seat to watching Brainy go through several stages of grief; his jaw works, grinding his teeth, clearly debating if he should just throttle their prone friend to save himself the stress.

"Don't 'hi' me, Norg." The Coluan finally lets go of him to take Lyle’s bloody chin in his hand, directing it back towards himself, teeth bared in what should be a sneer if it were any other situation. If it were anyone other than Lyle. “You’ve deliberately harmed yourself.”

Lyle peeks his eyes open, the brown hazy and distant behind long lashes but he still clearly tries to get his gaze to focus on Brainy’s features hovering inches into his space. Rokk watches his pupils contract and expand several times to no avail. After a long, contemplative pause, he swallows then croaks miserably: “Had a deadline.”

Brainy abandons his data fully to grasp Lyle’s face between his palms, using his thumbs to smear some of the blood away. “Your own, it appears! You fell over 20 feet!” When the other boy only hums in response, Brainy visibly bristles, leaning in again with fury. “If Cosmic Boy hadn’t saved your nass your head could be smashed across the floor. You would have died the most anticlimactic death and for what! To prove a point?”

Lyle closes his eyes against the scolding, whining in the back of his throat. But then he sighs with a sad rattle at the end of it. “…Hands feel nice.”

Brainy immediately snatches the appendages away as if scalded, shocked. A soft, disappointed sound calls out from Lyle’s parted lips, and Rokk responds almost instinctively in the Coluan’s place, cupping Lyle’s cheek in his hand and feeling the searing feverish heat against his own skin through his uniform. He uses that hand to gently draw Lyle’s head back in to tuck against his chest, adjusting him into an easier hold before he slowly, carefully, stands. 

When he looks back at Brainy, the Coluan is staring at his hands, at where the other Legionnaire's blood now stains his fingers in various patches. 

“Shall we?” Rokk grunts, and Brainy flinches as if out of a dream. Then stiffly, he nods, standing and briskly setting the pace out the door towards the medical wing.

"Let’s be quick about it. Our Earthling is very fragile by nature." Brainy states over his shoulder, tone all business as he marches ahead of them. His dirty hands are clenched into fists. They tremble ever so slightly between the gentle swing of his hurried stride. Rokk thinks about them all charging into battle as a unit: The Legion of Superheroes. All their variety of might and powers combined against the threats of the universe. And how this one kid from Earth whose only ability is disappearing is somehow always right alongside them. Charging head on. Rokk thinks about the battlefield and about Brainiac 5, casting his forcefield wide, covering Lyle as best he can.

"Don't remind me." Lyle mutters, sourly. His eyes open, briefly, before he groans and hides his face against Rokk’s collarbone. "Oh no. Are you princess carrying me down the main hallway right now? Grife, I'm never living this down."

"You have more important retributions from this than your ego to worry about.” Brainy doesn’t look back at them, shoulders stiff. “I am locking you out of the lab for a month. A month, Norg. I'm cybercoding it down to your DNA so you can't even come 10 feet from the door."

Lyle smiles against Rokk's collar. Rokk can feel it, just like he feels the other slip into unconsciousness again, his sweaty scalding brow resting where Rokk's uniform ends on his neck. 

#i got a little carried away with this #drabble #lyle norg #brainiac 5 #invisible kid #cosmic boy #rokk krinn #querl dox #losh fic #LOSH #legion of superheroes #I've never written rokk before but this fic insisted on centering around his pov #lots of headcanons thrown in here too #idk i hope you enjoy i guess lol????? #sickfic #i love hurt comfort and also drama #i'm a dramatic hoe

[skxrbrand]

Blood Mountains, Infernius

His snout burns. It really burns. And for a fire-borne creature like a Bloodthirster, that’s concerning indeed. Khazaan’s eyes all but snap open, the daemon yanked from the peaceful darkness of unconsciousness. He had thought it was oblivion, true and never-ending, but it seemed the Changer had a different fate in mind for the Tippler of Khorne.

Coughing, the daemon goes to swipe the offending substances burning his nostrils away, only to find he is restrained. Chains of darkness eat into his skin, burning him when he strains too hard. A laugh plays about his ears, cruel and mocking.

“ There he is!” A shape looms over him, slapping a hand on his hide as if he were an old friend. But that was anything but the truth, for this beast was black-and-white and stunk of Malal’s ilk. The Bloodthirster’s very being cried in protest to be so near to it, feeling in equal measure the desire to savage it and flee. “Awake at last! Good, Xögrym would have been displeased if you had died.”

Khazaan managed a snort of arrogant derision, even as could not force any words through his throat quite yet. The strange she-daemon called to several furies; black and white as she was. Khazaan recognized a few of them from the flock that kept him and his legions company (and sometimes harassed them), back at the desert. She then looked at him, “Spirited even on death’s doorstep. Good-- it’s more fun when they squirm.”

The Anarche’s grin promised pain beyond imagining, though it faltered at the heavy tread of another being with power beyond even hers. And if her presence was offensive, the newcomer’s was a downright assault on the senses. Khazaan grimaced, beholding the larger of the pair: Xögrym.

“...Smaller than I was expecting. But he will do.” The Exalted commented to his sister. He came to stand next to Khazaan, studying his form. Khazaan’s grimace intensifies.

Do not tell me your aspect cuts more towards the serpent.

“ What makes you guess it would?”

The way your eyes are roving, mongrel.

Xögrym laughed, and his sister, Arlaêy, tittered next to him.

“ You have it all wrong. We have need of your flesh, but not in that manner.”

The Anarche came forward and touched a claw to one of Khazaan’s wings. Something about his touch was wrong and even the great Bloodthirster of Khorne, known for keeping the company of the Nurglish, felt his skin crawl beneath it.

“ Your lord Skarbrand has taken someone very dear to me. My brother, Freysin.”

The twitchy, loud-mouthed whelp we defeated at Dark Hold? Khazaan sends to his captor. The territory thief.

“The very same.” Xögrym confirmed. Clearly his sibling’s exploits meant nothing to him. “ I want him back. Free from the grasp of the Reaper.”

Then why not challenge the Reaper? Do you fear defeat, wretch?

“ I would be a fool to duel the Greatest of All Daemonkind. Just as Freysin was. You council me to make the same mistake as my sibling?”

“ Of course a Khornate would council that.” Arlaêy chimed in.

“ No. There are other ways.”  Xögrym murmured, “ The boon of your kind is also it’s greatest weakness. Your rage. Your unthinking fury. You’ll forgive me, Bloodthirster of Khorne, but we have need of your wing.”

Khazaan, then, went from mocking to angry. He struggled in his binds. Xögrym nodded to his sister as the Bloodthirster’s plight got more desperate,

“ Don’t ruin the membranes.”

#Khazaan (The Slaughter Drunk); #warhammer fantasy #plot point #long post

[mojavebullhunter]

Penelope Churchill

(Here's the Picrew if you wanna make a Gorly)

Basic Information

Name: Penelope Churchill

Race:  Human

Age: 28

Gender: Female 

Physical Information

Height: 6’3

Weight: 185lbs

Build: Athletic hourglass figure, no defined muscles

Hair Color: Redwood

Unusual Markings/Defining Features: Bull Brand on her upper back

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Color: Tan

Psychological Information

Personality: Penelope is a kind woman at her heart, she loves deeply and without restraint. But her life has been hard, and left her paranoid and distrustful of other humans. She values freedom above all, and will do whatever it takes to never feel shackles close around her again.

Likes: Whiskey, cigars/cigarettes, steaks cooked medium rare, roughing it out in the wastes, the feeling of killing someone who truly deserved it, Wolf Spiders

Dislikes: The Legion, aggressive men, using chems, slavers, Raiders, mole rats

Background

Place of Origin: A Town That No Longer Exists

Date of Birth: August 2,253

Backstory: Penelope Churchill was born in Arizona, near the Colorado river, around 20 years before the Legion arrived. Her father was a Cherokee man who loved to hunt and tend his garden, her mother was a caucasian woman who served as their town’s sheriff when she wasn’t fishing in the river. Their community numbered around fifty families of various backgrounds but all with ties to her father’s tribe. Penelope went to school in the old library in their town, where she learned to read and to write from Pre-war books and holotapes that had been carefully preserved. What she couldn’t learn at school she learned from the many traders and Mercenaries who came through the town, their stories of faraway places and daring adventures filling her heart with a desire to see the world. It was on her twelfth birthday that she loudly proclaimed that she wanted to be a Mercenary and go on adventurers like her heroes; Thor and Odysseus, who’s many stories she’d read countless times in the Library. 

In response to her desires her parents began to teach her how to survive in the wilds, how to shoot a gun, swing a blade and cook a decent meal over a campfire. Over the next several years she did everything she could to absorb the information her parents taught her as well as what she learned in school and heard from the travelers. By the time she was eighteen she was a skilled gunslinger and hunter, and even worked as a deputy with her Mother, though she was often more interested in the daughter of the local saloon owner. One night, while chatting up the pretty blonde, she heard gunshots from the other side of town. By the time she got there all she saw was a dark figure running off into the wastelands, and her mother dead on the ground with a slash in her throat. Penelope fired off a few shots at the retreating figure, enraged at the loss of her mother, but none took the figure down.

They buried her mother near the river, behind the two story house she and her father called home. Her father stepped up as the town’s Sheriff after the funeral, and Penelope began to focus entirely on her job, neglecting her budding relationship with the saloon owner’s daughter. After a few months she moved away, pursuing a career as a Caravan Guard. She went off to have adventures as a Caravan Guard. Penelope’s father passed away a few months later, the town’s doctor had no way of explaining it besides he seemed to have just given up. Penny was alone in her big house, the Sheriff of her town.

(THIS IS WHERE SHIT HITS THE FAN IN TERMS OF TRIGGERS! STOP READING HERE IF YOU'RE SQUEAMISH ABOUT: Slavery/Rape/Forced Pregnancy/Child Murder CAUSE IT'S ALL HERE)

When she was twenty a man arrived in town, well dressed and well spoken, he stayed for a few days before leaving in the same direction he came. Penelope felt as if she’d seen him before but couldn’t place him, assuming he’d been a traveler that’d come through when she was a kid. But she was wrong, he’d been there two years ago. The man had been the one to kill her mother, a Centurion of Caesar’s Legion. The attack came a few weeks later, a wave of red that swept over the town. Penelope managed to kill a few, as did other members of the town, but it was in vain. The men and the old were killed. The women were raped and enslaved and the children dragged away never to be seen again. The Centurion laid claim to Penelope, and once she had been taken down he did to her what the rest of the Legion did to the rest of the town’s women.

Enslaved, whipped and branded with the Bull and forced to serve a man for whom she had only contempt. Penelope believed she was at her lowest, then her belly began to swell, nine months later she gave birth to a baby girl, much to the Centurion’s frustration. Over the next twelve years she provided three more children for him. Three boys, three soldiers of the Legion, and his great pride. Penelope was still his favored slave, the only one permitted to live in the house he’d claimed for himself…her house…and the only one allowed to go upstairs to where he’d made his bed in the room her parents had once lived in. Her hatred and fury could not be understated, everyday she woke up in the house she’d lived in from birth and served a man who was everything she hated and tended to children she’d never wanted.

Twelve years passed, every negative feeling growing…every frustration building until it broke in the wake of opportunity. A storm was coming, a rare rainstorm, Penelope could smell it in the air. She could see it in the more vibrant green of the plants in the fields she was forced to work. She knew this area better than the Legion, she knew what would happen when the rain came. That night a vase, precariously perched at the edge of a table, fell to the floor and shattered as her sons rampaged through the house on the way to their bedroom. The shattering irritated Penelope’s owner, who stormed out of the room followed closely by a ‘concerned’ Penelope. As he reached the top of the stairs the slave let out every bit of her anger and shoved him. The cracking of his bones against the wooden stairs filled her with a sadistic glee, and she hurried town the stairs after his tumbling form with his Gladius in hand.

He lay broken and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, his leg twisted at an odd angle that indicated a break, and a great bruise spreading across his face and parts of his chest. She didn’t bother to kill him after seeing him, he wasn’t worth the effort and time it’d waste to do so, instead she grabbed the key to her collar and quickly removed the explosive device before running toward the backdoor. As she turned into the hallway she came face to face with her sons, the oldest of which looked from the machete in her hand to her collarless neck and spoke in a commanding tone. “Where is your Master, woman?” In that moment every option ran through her mind, she could run right past them but they’d just raise the alarm and hinder her escape…she could take them with her but, the boy’s words echoed in her mind, they did not even see her as their mother…just a woman…a slave. As he stepped forward, reaching up to grab her by the hair, but his hand never made it. A single swing of his father’s machete separated the ten year old’s head from his shoulders, in shock the younger boys backed away. Their mouths opened to scream, only for the nine year old to get the same treatment as his older brother while the six year old felt his mother’s fingers crush his throat and prevent his scream before jamming the machete into his chest.

She’d killed three children, her sons, and never looked back as their lives faded. ‘A mercy,’ she told herself, ‘better dead than Red.’ Penelope burst into the kitchen, finding her daughter there…still washing the dishes from dinner. In a moment Penelope was faced with the same choice again, and in the brief moment that her hand tightened around the bloody machete her daughter, her oldest child, turned and seemed surprised to see her mother there. “M-Mom? Is everything…okay?” Her eyes darted to the Machete in her mom’s hand, and was surprised when the collar key hit her in the chest. “Take that thing off, I have something I need to get. Stay in this room, and do not make a sound.” She growled before turning to run back upstairs, stomping across the Centurion’s chest on her way to his trophy room and dropping the bloody gladius beside him. There she claimed her revolver, the last gift she’d gotten from her father along with the Gecko-hide belt and holster she’d worn for years. When she returned to the kitchen her daughter had done exactly as asked, her collar laying on the floor alongside the key.

Without pause she grabbed the little girl’s hand and raced out into the rainy night, dragging her daughter through the muddy backyard and past her mother’s grave without stopping. They ran down to the river, sliding down the muddy bank to get onto the swollen shores of the river, Penelope commanded the girl to swim with the current and toward the opposite shore. They were swept down the river, and eventually managed to crawl out of the water near Bighorn Cove. Despite her daughter being exhausted from the swim, Penelope couldn’t let her rest and dragged the girl through the night until coming across a destroyed camp far away from the river and within view of Bitter Springs. There they put on dry clothes, salvaging them from the bodies left behind by whatever had destroyed the camp. Penelope found a dead lawman wearing a duster and took it from him, putting on clothes salvaged from a few women in the camp along with a handful of caps and supplies. From there she and her daughter set off into the Mojave, seeking a place to live peacefully and quietly.

#Penny.bio #Penny.headcanons #tw.dark content #tw.rape #tw.forced pregnancy #tw.child murder #tw.slavery

[thebunnieswritingsideblog]

As Exarch made their way back to The Crystarium with the twins in tow, the first face to greet them was Lyna's. Before she could even begin to say anything she was brought into the occular with the twins, away from listening ears and prying eyes.

It didn't take long for Lyna to know something had gone very... very wrong. They left with eight and only three have returned, those few who did kept silent until they got into the occular. And their expressions, gods wouldn't blame her one bit for being scared at seeing them. "What happened? Where is everyone else? Why do you look as if you've all seen spirits?"

The Exarch tried to speak, but as if their very words were caught in their throat, only a croak was heard before they shriveled back into themselves. This alone worried Lyna, the picture of confidence, resiliance, and this city's leader who always knew what to say was left speechless by whatever sent them back. Alisaie didn't make any attempt to seem like she was paying attention, only looking slightly to the side and as if into the void itself, any attempts at getting her attention were futile. Alphinaud knew he had to speak, he didn't want to, but he had to.

The elezen let out a lengthy sigh before hesitating, collecting his thoughts, trying to be as coherant as possible. "The strongest amoung us has been turned against us... those who survived it have remained behind to hold what's left of the warrior at bay while we return to bear news to you and prepare as needed. They will not last long." Vauge, ominous, and if anything left Lyna with more questions than answers, yet unsure if she even wanted answers. "What do you mean? What has happened?"

"They..." Alphinaud delays before carrying on. "Saharah has- .... Saharah been turned into a Lightwarden." The boy's eyes began to water as he went to continue speaking, but his sister interrupted him. "It all happened so fast.. It was at the moment of our biggest triumph yet and then it all came.... crashing down. All of it." Before Alphinaud could reassure her that he had the speaking handled she kept going.

"The screams, good gods the screams. She has faced gods countless of times without a hint of fear or hesitation, yet she was.... she was begging us... for help... begging that thing for mercy." Alisaie's tone almost became enraged at the recollection. "She begged us to help her, none of us could do anything- none of us would! We all just sat there- in stunned silence. She gave up on her pleas shortly before barking orders, strained as her voice was. She began demanding us to run, to get everyone out of there while we could.... then silence, cold... dead silence filled the air."

The memories began flooding back, when Saharah first was brought onto her hands and knees, bleeding liquid light. The last lightwarden was dead... but the light itself wasn't to be expunged so easily. The cracking of bones as the hrothgar's form irreversibly altered, the cries of pain as her fur and flesh made way for a blank slate and an unholy luster.

Before the image of the monsterous god that stood before her could return, Alphinaud had snapped Alisaie out of her nightmare. "Alisaie- we need to... we need to prepare, we need to get atleast one of us home to tell Krile and the others." They began talking, thinking of how they'd defend the city from something so eldrich and something so unstoppable before it happened.

"LIGHTWARDEN!" someone screamed from outside, the group rushed out to see what was going on and were met only with death and it's legion. It somehow barely even resembled Saharah, yet looking at it.. it's features, it's confidence, it's raw power, it was undoubtably her. It has come to feast on whatever meager amounts of aether the morsels in the crystarium could provide.

The Exarch looked on in terror before finally speaking, not with confidence, but with simple acceptance. "It seems it's too late to prepare... we can only pray that one of us survives. Come, quickly, we must get one of you back home it does not matter who. Just someone who can tell your people of what happened here, mayhaps somehow your home can still be saved, can still have hope." The twins both knew that was all but possible, but they agreed and follow the Exarch's lead all the same. Sadly for the Scions however, there is no more ace up their sleeves to rely on to save the world, only prayers that the Twelve themselves may bring salvation.

[duraxxor]

Truth + What's the worst part of being on Azeroth?

A belch left the jaws of the beast as he covered his mouth, clearing his throat. " Excuse me... I -ahem- believe there was something in my drink... I think I'm going to have to change the reserves a bit... " T'would seem his favorite bottled beverage was filled with something foreign but not poisonous. It was when the question graced his ears that he'd find himself narrowing his eyes, almost in a drunken phase of unlife. A twisted chuckle escaped him before he smacked his own knee. " Azeroth? Oh gods be damned. Where do you fuckin' start? I have lived five hundred plus years and never in my life have I seen so much Kodo-shit happen in the past fifty years we've been on this god-forsaken soil. Don't get me wrong... -hick- I enjoy having something to always direct my blade or attention to but... we went from dragons and elementals, to the Burning Legion, Arthas the Asshole, A dragon that was quite literally falling apart at the seams, to Garrosh Hellscream being a dictator, which by the way I had loads of fun stomped through Orgrimmar watching those orcs waste their time and lives for that racist glory-hound! After all, death isn't prejudice, is it my friend? Now where was I... " He paused a moment before hiccupping again. " ... Oh yes right! How could I forget Garrosh forcing a time paradox that should've never happened, Burning Legion 2: Space Boogaloo! It wasn't until Windrunner began dismantling the Horde with her own ideals that I started to see some semblance of the old world but NoooooooOOooooOOOooo... It was all part of the Jailer's master plan with a hint of N'zoth tickling our fancies. You really know what sucks the most about Azeroth?! Why is this sleeping baby of a Titan always the target? What is so special about this blue ball? And how come he? She? It? I don't know? How come they haven't woken up as much as we've bled them dry? Are they more of a masochist than I am or some shit? " The crimson gems of his eyes rolled at the very thought of a planet being a masochist more than a being of flesh and death. How ridiculous!

[ Enjoy the Truth Serum deluxe @nixalegos ! ]

#azeroth #constant threats #no rest for the wicked #Dura #Truth Serum

[myheartbeginstorace]

There are circles of hell for people like you

There are so many things that I have been thinking about since I heard what you said about me, and I want to just write a few of them out. I think it’ll help.

You’re the first person I’ve said no too since my sa. My most dependable coping mechanism (regardless of if it’s healthy or not) has been that, if I just say yes, no one can r me again. If I just consent, I’m in control it’s my decision, it’s just sex I regret. Saying no to you was MASSIVE for me. Not just because of the fact you’re fucking famous and there are legions of girls out there writing fan fiction about you and in their minds, I’m living in one, that’s something all on its own, but for ME in MY RECOVERY JOURNEY, saying no because everything about the situation was wrong and I felt uncomfortable and didn’t want to hook up with you, is a huge milestone. The fact you’ve decided to now go run my reputation to the ground and punish me even more harshly for saying no is so fucking evil.

You and your fucking label bros are out here calling ME clout chasing when I’m 1) on private on everything, 2) never told anyone about the fact you came onto me, 3) I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOUR FUCKING BAND!!! You guys are the ones sitting around a table in a restaurant talking about ME to random industry people, thinking that there’s no way any of them could possibly be my friend. You realize how fucking stupid and clout chasing YOU LOOK throwing my name and place of employment around like a badge of honor notch on your bedpost? You’re the ones going around giving lip service to me. Not me about you. The fact you caveat it like “she’s ugly but she was so easy I did it bc I could.” You’re the one that sounds like you were so obsessed with the idea of fucking me that you set aside how unappealing I was just to claim me. Actual psychopath behavior fr.

You’re mean. You’re just so fucking mean. When this whole incident happened I was pretty deep in my ed. I was grasping at straws to not throw up every day, much less every week. And as HORRIBLE FUCKED UP BAD RECOVERY TACTIC it was to put meaning behind it, you making a move on me made me feel better. Maybe I don’t need to make myself throw up every time I eat a meal over 600 calories or drink more than 2 drinks. I can’t possibly be that repulsively fat if you, who has tons of way better options, wants to fuck me. Even if I say no, the fact you wanted to comforted me. It actually was the rock that got me through my first month of recovery. I relapsed about 6 weeks later, but that relapse period was so much shorter, only about 2 weeks before I went months without forcing a toothbrush down my throat. The way you now are so ego hurt about what happened that you’re calling me fat and ugly has shred so much of that apart. Having to tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that it 1) doesn’t invalidate what I had told myself before and 2) isn’t evidence to validate my insecurities, BLOWS. I know I’m going to relapse. I tried already but it was too late to get anything up. Fuck you dude. Fuck you to hell.

I’m not going to sit by and take this. Thinking that you can shit talk me and these other girls (who also fucking deserve respect and kindness even if they aren’t as influential in the industry as I am) is absolutely moronic. I’m not some random person in the crowd at your show, I’m a 5+ year veteran music industry employee. And YOU’RE the artist who didn’t ask for consent and came onto me. The fact I didn’t say anything about it prior should already be enough of a kindness from me. Making a move on me when I’m in a position of influence to help or hurt your career and then acting this way when you get rejected has to be the stupidest thing you could have ever done. There’s a whisper network for women and if you think saying all these ugly things about me and lying that you slept with me wouldn’t push me to ignite a flare for everyone to stay away from you, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s plenty of idols out there who aren’t absolute jackasses to women, we’ll support them instead. Get a life.

#diary

[theunquenchablethirst]

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

#gotham #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #fanfic #smut

[moonpiepig]

Love-struck - A toast

Recently I've been rewatching Fairy Tail and my love for Laxus was rekindled, so here is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. This is a snippet introduction kind of thing. I might do another one like this because it was so much fun doing something short but sweet! :')

The ruckus in the Guild Hall could be heard deep inside the town of Magnolia. Despite being muffled by bandages from an earlier loss, one voice soared above the rest, screaming threats of a rematch. Lucy barely dodged a flaming stool hurtling towards Erza, the heat of it blossoming red patches on her arm, and leaned further across the bar counter.

Lucy watched Mira make Laxus’ order, a mixed scent of chocolate, malt, and fresh coffee filling the air, and listened to her explanation of S Class wizards and the rules of the upper floor.

“There are only 5 people in the entire guild who are considered S Class. That includes me, Laxus, Mystigan and Erza,” Mira explained.

“Hmph,” Laxus grunted. The air around the bar turned heavy, and Laxus pulled his coat tighter around his stiffened shoulders. The fur on his sleeves soaked up the spills as he took two overflowing mugs upstairs, the old floorboards groaning under his slow, heavy steps.

“Jeez what’s up with him? And who’s up there with him?” asked Lucy.

Mira’s eyes were fixed on Laxus’ hunched figure until he was out of sight. She then turned to face Lucy, her lips nothing more than a thin line, and her eyes glittering. After clearing her throat and forcing a smile, she started to busy herself with drying a glass.

“I should have been more careful with my words,” she eventually concluded.

“What’s wrong?”

“There isn’t anyone else upstairs right now...”

Lucy frowned. Mira put down the glass and moved closer towards her, lowering her voice. “2 years ago, Fairy Tail had 6 S Class wizards. One of them was a woman named y/n, who was close to Laxus and always teamed up with him on jobs before the Thunder Legion officially formed. After every job, she and Laxus would celebrate upstairs with a drink. I don’t remember the last time I heard Laxus laugh so hard. They were sweet together.”

“What happened to her?” asked Lucy, her voice barely a whisper.

“Nobody knows,” Mira replied, shaking her head slightly. “She went on a solo job after an argument with Laxus, and never came back. He often takes long breaks from jobs to look for her. I don’t think he wants to accept the conclusion everyone else came to. It was an SS-Class job, you see. Very dangerous.”

Lucy let out a long, shaky breath. She knew the risk that came with joining a guild, but thankfully hadn’t yet experienced it first-hand. There was one more question on her mind, “And so… the mugs?”

Mira hesitated, glancing at the stairs.

“Whenever he finishes a job, he still celebrates with her. Asks for her favourite drink and toasts the job as if she had been there by his side the whole time.”

#laxus x reader #laxus dreyar #laxus dreyar x reader #fairy tail #fairy tail x reader #mirajane strauss #lucy heartfilia #laxus dreyar x oc #oc #fairy tail fanfiction #fluff #sad #angst #Love-struck

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #vampire #vampires #fallout companions #fallout companions react #fallout new vegas companions react #fallout new vegas companions #fnv companions #fnv companions react #arcade gannon #arcade israel gannon #craig boone #lily bowen #raul alfonso tejada #raul tejada #rose of sharon cassidy #cassidy #veronica santangelo #ed-e #rex #benny gecko #ulysses #joshua graham #robert house #mr. house #caesar #yes man

[algumaideia]

@thegodswereneveronourside and @pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid I thought you guys might like some angst Octavian.

And @zazzander thank you for the suggestion, trying to write something else helped me :)

...

Looking at Fulana, Octavian couldn't help but feel kinda hollow.

He hated, despised her. The way she mocked, bullied, and made fun of him constantly. A lot of times she was able to destroy his confidence and fill him with doubts, especially in the things he knew he was good at. And there were the moments she made him feel so miserable for not being capable of fighting. On many occasions Octavian felt like her sole propose on life was to harm him emotionally as much as possible.

Throughout the years he would dream time and time again about Fulana being gone, how his life would be more peaceful, easier, with less self-hatred.

Then why wasn't he happy that she was dead? Why didn't her death give him any good feeling? Why did he feel like throwing up? Like crying? It was his dream coming true, and he was terrible.

Fulana's corpse looked horrible. There was blood everywhere, she was full of wounds, there were some bites too, and her left ankle was clearly broken.

Fulana died fighting a monster, she sacrificed herself protecting the camp.She probably would go to the Elysium; it was an honorable death.

Honorable. It was like he was insulting her death by thinking like this. Octavian felt sick, this situation was tragic, dreadful. The blood, the injuries, the broken bone... those things were anything but honorable. To think of how noble her death was, seemed to be a way to take all the tragedy of it, to deny the revolting reality.

And then while looking at Fulana's injuries he realized that a lot more demigods would die like that in the following conflicts with the Titans. And he vomited.

It wasn't the bad taste or how the acid hurt his throat or the bad smell that made him feel worse. But the feeling that he was degrading her, her death.

Octavian was crying. He hugged himself trying to get some comfort. He hated her so much, but he only felt a terrible sadness about this situation.

...

"I heard that you found the body and there was vomit next to it"

Octavian didn't bother to look to Jason. He still could see Fulana. He wanted to scream, destroy something that wasn’t teddy bears, punch someone.

Jason sat down next to him and put his hand on Octavian's shoulder. Octavian wanted to push him away.

"Her death is not your fault, Tav" Jason said softly "Dying like that is just a part of a demigod's life. Besides she died protecting the camp, doing her duty as a member of the legion. She will be remembered as a hero. She definitely went to the Elysium. It is going to be okay."

Every word felt like a punch on Octavian's stomach. How could Jason say something like that? Haven't him seen her? How she was? Did he really believe on all that bullshit?

Octavian took a deep breath.

"We need to be more cautious."

"What?"

"We need to be more cautious, so this way less demigods will die. Maybe more people should go on missions, and no one should patrol alone... I'm gonna talk to Reyna so we can think about strategies-"

"Tav" Jason said a little harsh, was his friend in denial? "Demigods die like that all the time."

Octavian made eye contact with Jason for the first time. His expression showed his almost not controlled rage.

"We need to be more cautious, so less demigods will die."

And Octavian stood up and went away. He ignored Jason calling his name, he needed to be alone.

While walking around the camp and he couldn't stop thinking about how that kind of death would happen again and again and again and he couldn't do anything. So many of those demigods would die in that terrible way.... It was just so wrong. He felt kinda hollow again.

#octavian #hoo #octavian hoo #octavian cinematic universe #jason grace #angst octavian #btw i didn't want to portray jason as insensitive #he just saw his friend sad bc of death #and he tried his best to confort him #he just wasn't able to do that #or said the best things #but there was no way of him knowing what was going on octavian's mind

[breathings-of-the-heart]

Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada  The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.  

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.  

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--”


The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly. 


“Hello, Levi.” 


~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight. 


Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left. 


To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes. 


“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.” 


“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).”


The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--”


“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.  

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.  

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.


He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.”


He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea. 


You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”  

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  


“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.  

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.  

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.  

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.  

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

#snk #AoT #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #lance corporal levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk levi #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines

[hajimesh]

𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!” 

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you." 

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub. 

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

​​what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones. 

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?” 

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren fluff #eren angst #eren yeager #i missed writing angst hehe #eren.c