#i get so happy when i see him i get a little violent its unsettling . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aris-ink · 1 year

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hide and seek with yan!jungkook except reader is in trouble and if he finds you, let’s just say she won’t be walking the next day. dub con + fear kink + degradation + dacryphilia? (loves seeing her cry idk if you want to add that)

this might be a little different from what you imagined? and I'm a few hours late but happy halloween 🎃

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: where do I begin? mentions of smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to kidnapping and stockholm syndrome, dub con, fear kink (including threats of violence), choking, manhandling, degradation, dacryphilia, rough sex, creampie, and aftercare

"Oh baby," he sighed as he threw down his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot. "You are so fucking predictable."

Slowly, as if time didn't exist for him, he stepped onto the rundown porch, disappearing from your sight. For you time seemed to be running out, the haunting ticking of the old grandfather clock almost taunting you.

You backed away into the thick shadows of the room, your feet careful on the creaky, wooden floorboards. You reached for the doorknob behind you and opened the antique wardrobe, paying no mind to the cobwebs in the corners as you walked inside and shut the door.

If you would have seen this house a few months ago, it would have frightened you. Abandoned and hollow, layered with dust and echoes of ghostly memories. But since you met Jungkook you've learned to make friends with the things in the shadows. The darkness that swallowed you up here was exactly what you needed. It didn't matter if you entered a beast's layer. The beast waiting for you outside was much worse.

You could hear the front door opening downstairs, heavy footsteps trudging forward. You crouched down and forced your mouth to stay shut, no matter how hard it was to breathe. No matter how stale the air, or how bad the anxiety that gripped your throat. Hide and seek was a silent game; you didn't want to know the consequences for breaking the rules.

But somehow, the silence was worse. You could hear the rattle of your heart in your chest, like windows and shutters blown open by a violent wind. You could hear Jungkook's weight making the stairs creak, an unsettling melody that pulsed through your skull. Was there no part of you that he didn't hold in the palm of his hand? No part of your body and soul that hasn't been scratched and marked by his claws?

"You can keep running, baby," his voice rang through the building, sweet and low, like a lullaby. "But you're only running from yourself."

You covered your ears, trying to push the words out of your mind, trying to ignore the fact that his footsteps were getting louder, clearer. How long would it take him to find you?

A sudden gust of hopelessness made you shudder, your eyes burning. Your feet were sore from running. You've spent hours combing through an endless ocean of trees, trying to drown yourself in its cold grip, looking for at least a drop of civilization. Anytime you thought you lost him, you heard him call your name. It echoed through the night, echoed through your bones. When the tiredness began to settle in, it was hard not to accept the fact that even though Jungkook was a monster, he was not a liar. There was no one around to help you. Not for miles. He knew exactly what he was doing when he dragged you to the middle of nowhere.

The moon high up in the sky was your only companion, and you stared at it for too long, with a resentment that made you burn. Was god not supposed to be up there? Did he really abandon his children and let demons roam free?

Maybe he never existed.

You wished you could say that made you feel alone. But Jungkook's presence was like a bony hand crawling up and down your spine. Just when you thought you could walk free, the earth bellow you opened up, and he was right there to drag you under.

"Where are you, sweetheart?" He cooed, his footsteps pausing at the top of the stairs.

You shut your eyes. You could hear more creaking as he stalked through the different rooms. The feeling of hopelessness magnified into despair, completely eclipsing your heart.

This house was your last chance. You managed to escape his shackles only to end up here, about to be caught again. Even though he's held you captive, he has never put a hand on you before. You didn't know what to expect tonight.

A light seemed flicker in your head as more doors opened and closed, Jungkook's soft humming spreading throughout the house.

What did he mean when he said you were only running from yourself? Did he know you were going to end up hiding in this old ruin?

You opened your eyes and felt your hands soften their grip on your ears.

Of course he knew.

Who would know the area better than him? He must have chosen it for a reason. He must have left your door cracked open on purpose. What for? To prove a point? To feed his delusions?

An anger you haven't known before made you feel hot from head to toe, the ice in your veins sizzling. Suddenly you found it much harder to control your breathing, even more so when you heard him open the final door.

Just like that all that separated you from him was a few meters and the thick, old wood of the wardrobe.

He tsked as he entered the bedroom.

"Last chance to come out," he offered. "Aren't you cold, my angel? I just want to take you home."

You resisted the urge to scream, to tell him that his place will never be your home, and that you hated him with every fibre of your being. Instead, you remained silent. Living long enough on the run, even prey could pick up a few tricks from the predator.

Jungkook laughed. It irked you to the core.

"Okay then."

One step, then another. Slowly, ever so slowly, you rose to your feet, dedicated to not making a sound until the very end.

Shuffling; then a sigh.

Then silence.

Through the breaks in the wood, your eyes long adjusted to the dark, you could see his boots stop right in front of the wardrobe.

The ticking of the clock seemed louder, slower, stretching the fabrics of time into eternity.

Tick... tock.

The doors flew wide open.

"Got-"

you was knocked out of his lungs when you threw yourself at him, scratching blindly and kicking your feet where they could reach. You were akin to a furious kitten pouncing at a tiger, but it didn't deter you, and neither did the wetness you began to feel dripping down your fingers.

"Fucking hell," Jungkook gritted, the momentary surprise fading quickly as he gripped your wrists, shoving you straight back into the wardrobe with a thud.

You yelped at the impact, your wrists stinging, your head aching from the blow. You weren't quite sure if your eyes welled with tears from the pain, or from how scared and small you suddenly felt next to him.

"Fuck, did I hurt you?"

Dizzy, you looked up at him. His face looked pale and blurry, and you briefly wondered if you misheard him.

It didn't matter. You were so tired of playing games.

"Fuck you!" You spat, though your voice shook, your throat feeling tight. "Let me go, you fucker."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, exhaling deeply.

"So you didn't hit your head too hard. Good."

Your mouth opened to spit out more insults - what did you have to lose by now, really? - but everything in your brain shortcircuted when he leaned in and kissed you.

You froze for a moment, the weight and the warmth of his lips paralyzing. The tears spilled, as though only now you just realized that this was happening. And you were never going back to a normal life.

Jungkook cooed at you when he felt the wetness, pulling away to wipe your cheeks. Your mind fuzzy, you noted the long, dark streaks your nails left on his neck.

"Is it setting in?" He murmured. "Are you getting it now?"

You blinked, the throbbing in your head dulling, but you still couldn't think straight.

"You're mine," he brushed the next tear away with his lips, soft and gentle. "Only mine."

You shook your head, sniffling quietly. Jungkook grabbed your chin, staring into your eyes.

"Baby, you could run to the end of the world and I would still find you. You know it, and you fucking crave it. Why can't you just let go?"

You frowned, shaking your head more vigorously. Each word out of his mouth felt blasphemous. Like something that shouldn't ever be spoken out loud.

"Mhm," Jungkook purred softly, rubbing his nose along your cheek. "I own you, angel, body and soul. Feels good to be caught, doesn't it? I bet you're fucking soaked."

Your heart jumped to your throat, your nails digging into his hands. He didn't seem to care. There was something feral in his eyes, and it spoke volumes by itself.

"I bet you rubbed that little pussy every night knowing there's no one around and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you."

You gasped, instinctively lifting your knee to kick him, but he caught it between his muscular thighs, tightening his grip on your wrists.

"No!" You snapped, using the last of your strength to trash around, your elbows knocking into the wood behind you. "Let go! You're fucking delusional."

Why were you crying? You hated looking so weak, and how he seemed to delight in it, barely budging at your antics.

"Shut up," he narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw. "Stop fucking lying."

His tattooed hand gripped your chin again. His lips knocked into yours, uncaring for permission, unaccepting of denial. His fingers dug deep into your cheeks, squishing them.

"Don't try to bite," he hissed. "I'll bite back harder."

You trembled as he pushed his tongue inside, his breathing hot and heavy in your mouth. His self control was unraveling. He kissed you harder the more you refused, and the ground seemed to spin beneath your feet. It made you ache in so many ways you couldn't tell what you were feeling, or that he released your wrists to pull you flush against him. All the adrenaline seemed to be fading from your system, your emotions quick to catch up with you and drain your strength.

You still pushed at his chest. Fed up, he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing. You whined into his mouth, your stomach dropping, your eyes shooting open.

"Don't think I won't choke you until you're fucking blue, angel. You can scream all you want, I don't give a shit. You'll look pretty in any color to me."

You blinked rapidly, feeling your heart shrink, and with it the rest of your spirit. You felt so small, your lungs constricting, heat flowing through you in violent waves.

Eyes dark, pupils blown wide, Jungkook tightened his hand around your neck.

"Got it?"

You found yourself nodding immediately, your mouth gaping, but unable to form any words.

"Good girl," he murmured, rewarding you with a sweet kiss, his grip easing slowly.

He leaned his forehead on yours, releasing your neck, allowing more air to flood into your lungs. His next kiss was more gentle, a warm pressure that made your eyes fall shut again.

Why were you still crying? You wished you could stop the tears, even more so when Jungkook groaned, sliding his hand onto your ass.

"God, you're so pretty," he whispered, scattering heated kisses across your neck, pushing his hips into you. "Pretty when you cry," he opened his mouth and ran his tongue along your skin, inducing shivers. "Pretty when you run," he sighed, proceeding to suck a bruise above your collarbone, ignoring all your squirming. "Pretty when you fall apart for me," he mumbled into your skin. "So pretty inside and out."

You were almost mortified by the mewl that escaped your throat. Almost. The darkness behind your eyes was beginning to feel warm and hazy, his words making your knees buckle. You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck not to hit the ground, and he pressed you harder into the wardrobe.

"I got you," he soothed.

What a cruel comfort. His body was becoming your only grip on reality, the heat and the hardness of it keeping you grounded.

"Don't be scared. I won't hurt you."

The amusement in his voice didn't do much to convince you; although even without it you probably wouldn't have believed him.

Or would you? Your mind was becoming scattered. You didn't know what to think anymore. He enjoyed hurting you in many ways, but a part of you knew that he was too obsessed with you to do any real harm. It didn't matter, anyway. He was already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking from excitement. He was going to prove his point, after all, claim what was his forever. This was no time for foreplay or sweet nothings.

He lifted you up so easily your breath caught in your throat, hastily shoving your panties aside to push the hot, swollen tip of his cock against your entrance. He was so hard and big, you couldn't stop yourself from wincing, your nails digging into his shoulders, scratching at his leather jacket.

The small gasp that left him was followed by a deep groan.

"Oh, you little slut. I knew you were fucking soaked."

Humiliation rippled through you in burning waves, but you didn't have time to dwell on it. As if his last shred of sanity just vanished, replaced by sheer, carnal need, he rammed inside you, hard. You whimpered from the sudden stretch, your cunt pulsing and clenching around him. He gritted his teeth.

"Fuck."

He tightened his grip on your thighs, not giving a damn about your legs or the wardrobe shaking as he started fucking himself into you.

"Oh fuck," he moaned breathily, "oh fuck, yeah."

You could feel yourself leaking around his cock with every harsh thrust, his filthy, shameless enjoyment of it making your stomach tighten. You tried to swallow the noises building up in your throat, but no matter how much you hated it, this was the best you've felt since a long time. And you did hate it so much, because it was exactly what he wanted. He studied all parts of you carefully while he tore you apart, and waited patiently to have you on the brink of crumbling before he fixed you up. Before he made you take every inch of his cock, made you feel real.

The first moan that broke through your lips was loud. Louder than the squelching of your pussy being pounded, or his balls slapping against you. His cock twitched inside you, hitting all the right spots, making you stickier with precum.

"Look at you," he said breathlessly. "What a good, little whore. This was all you needed, wasn't it?"

He adjusted you, strong arm keeping you steady, and one hand making its way back to your face to tilt it towards him.

"Wasn't it? I know you better than you know yourself, baby," he brushed his lips against yours. "And I know that inside this good little girl who needs love is a good little slut who needs an owner."

You ripped away from his grip, unable to stand his eyes staring so deep into your soul, your cunt tightening around his cock more with each dirty word.

Jungkook grabbed your face, almost giving you whiplash from how fast he turned your head back towards him.

"Don't you fucking look away from me if you want to come tonight."

You lower lip trembled, but you didn't dare to disobey him, desperate to continue tumbling towards the high that was tingling through you. Jungkook shivered against you, his thrusts growing sloppy, sweat dripping down his temple.

"Good girl," he breathed, leaning his forehead on yours. "Fuck, gonna come inside this tight, little hole. Keep my pretty whore nice and full."

"Oh god," you whined, your back arching, a jolt of panicked pleasure shooting straight through you. "Don't-"

"I can feel you clenching, baby. You fucking want it. You want to be- fuck- dripping with my cum, yeah? Won't wanna run off next time. Will be too b-busy drooling all over my cock, fuck."

You barely registered the pain of your head hitting the wood behind you again, or the fact that Jungkook didn't scold you for looking away. He seemed to getting just as close to his own high, groaning lowly as he fucked you faster.

"Yeah? Fuck. Fuck. If you ever run from me again, I'll fucking ruin you. We'll see how pretty you'll look in red. You're fucking mine-"

You shuddered, your cunt clenching as it gushed, your cries filling the empty house. He pushed so many of your buttons, your entire system seemed confused; or maybe Jungkook has been right all along, and he did know you better than you knew yourself.

As if through a fog, you could hear him curse and moan with you, urging you on, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck yes, good girl, yeaaah-"

The warm rush of his cum inside you was the last thing you felt clearly. It seemed endless, thick, overwhelming, adding to the pleasure pulsing through you.

After that, you didn't feel much of anything, hanging on to consciousness by threads, floating in the dark. For the first time, you were glad that he was so much stronger than you, because you limped in his arms, and even though he still hasn't caught his breath, he managed to catch you.

His heart pounded against yours as he pulled you into his embrace, cradling you like the most precious gift from the universe.

"Good girl," he whispered into your hair, stroking it softly. His neck was warm against your cheek, damp with your tears and his blood. "I love you. Good girl. My sweet, precious girl."

You sighed, too tired to speak or think, but he didn't seem to mind. There was only one thing that he really wanted after tonight, and that was to take you home.

"Let's get some rest, angel."

For some reason, you had no doubt he would have carried you through those damn woods to get you into a comfortable bed. But Jungkook knew how to plan ahead, and his car was parked not too far from the ruin. You could remember the graze of cold air on your skin when he carried you outside, soon replaced by the smell of leather and the warmth of his car. You could remember a damp cloth soothing your aches when he put you to bed, washing away the sweat and the grime and the stress of the night.

Then his arms. They wrapped around you like wings, pulling you close, petal lips brushing your neck.

For the first time in months, at least for the moment, the word home didn't feel so wrong.

#listen I stayed up the whole night to write this so forgive me adjjhsjshdhdfhs #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts reactions

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Text

【 the shape of one's heart 】

author's note: hello and welcome to yet another leona kingscholar fic sjkdfjsf (the amount of l/ve i have for this man...unimaginable !!) part a birthday fic, part a character study, and part fluffy romance, i hope you enjoy reading <33 (UPDATE, aug 3: i rewrote the ending of iv. capture >:333)

characters: leona kingscholar x gn! prefect, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, falena kingscholar, cheka kingscholar

word count: 4.5k

tags: leona character study !! (or an attempt at one), happy birthday to dummy lion, your honor i love him therefore i psychoanalyze him, fluff is justice, but also there's angst, so watch out haha—, him and prefect are just <333, i. ii. iii. are mostly char study n iv. is where most of the romance lies

[ or read it on ao3 ]

i. gloves

It all started with an innocent question. "Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Leona blinked at them, yet he gave no answer. Instead, he recalled the first time he felt the coarseness of sand against the palm of his hands.

His unique magic came to him violently; suddenly. It really did feel like a sand storm had swept him up into the air, his body all but pinwheeling from the loss of control. He remembered his vision shaking with anger that the younger him couldn't contain; the laughter and mocking of some petty servants still reverberating in his ears.

He remembered bumping into a vase, his fingers lightly brushing against its smooth surface before it dissolved into grains of sand; falling through his fingers as if it never existed in the first place. He reeled back in horror, grabbing onto anything to cushion his fall. It just so happened that he grabbed a fistful of drapery; all of which fell in a shower of sand around him.

When he looked up he could see the servants scattering away from him, terrified looks on their faces. He remembered being scared of himself, vision blurring as he explained to Falena and his father what happened.

That was the day King's Roar first surfaced. A Unique Magic was supposed to be a blessing, and yet…it never felt that way to Leona. If anything, it felt like another burden was added onto his shoulders. (The rumors around him began to grow even larger, and it wasn’t rare for him to hear that he had “the power to destroy their kingdom.” Leona simply tried to ignored them.)

Leona started wearing gloves not long after that. He couldn't control his power all that well for the first month or two. The gloves gave him enough time to react; if he felt them turning into dust he could let go of whatever or whoever he was holding.

Even after all those years, the habit stayed. Every day he tugged on leather gloves, feeling a minute yet present comfort at the feel of them. He only ever took them off during Magift matches. The only potential casualties were the Magift disc and his magic pen after all.

(Leona tried not to recall the feeling of skin flaking underneath his touch; the intention to hurt finally winning over his rationality. But whenever he saw the scar on Ruggie's arm he could only remember the memory with bitter remorse. Never again, he vowed.)

He flicked the herbivore's forehead for asking, "Shut up, 'm tryna nap." Leona let his eyes close, taking in a breath of air free of the unsettling heat of sand. He no longer had to be concerned about losing control, but that didn't make his power any less terrifying. His gloves flexed with his fingers as he stretched, cushioning his head as he dozed off once more.

ii. dreams

Leona didn't dream. Sleeping was sleeping for him. It was simply an activity to pass by listless days. Still, it was impossible for him to escape every dream.

Sometimes, dreams would find him; a little too sweet and inviting. Promises of glory and recognition. Of crowns placed within treses of brown. Of emerald eyes casting its gaze upon something that was finally, truly his.

Leona hated dreams. When he would wake up, all he could do was try convincing himself that it wasn't real. That it was a truth that he wouldn't ever get what he really wanted.

And what did he really want? A second prince that was labeled a failure of a student; what could Leona Kingscholar want? No matter how he claimed he didn't care, the want still simmered in his veins— stifled yet present.

Leona wanted. He wanted so much that it almost hurt to breathe. But he was blessed with the intellect to know that he couldn't get those things he wanted.

Many called him stupid and lazy for being such a promising mage yet wasting away within NRC's botanical gardens. But they didn't know of the effort that Leona put into getting to where he was.

The days of his childhood he spent studying. Enduring the royal tutors who always compared him to his brother and berated his intellect. The nights he spent poring over books in the royal library on his own volition; trying in vain to find a way to take the throne as his.

(Sadly, Afterglow Savanna valued birthright, and try as he might, the only way to take the throne was to overthrow his brother or...kill him. The younger him had shivered at the thought of it. Even if he resented Falena to hell and back, he couldn't ever try to kill him.)

Even his simplest dream of winning a school Magift tournament was completely destroyed by the future King of the Valley of Thorns. Yet another person that reminded him of Falena. It was the nth bitter reminder that he could never truly be first in anything. And after being disappointed at every turn, maybe Leona Kingscholar didn't see a point in dreaming anymore.

So if someone were to ask him what his dream was, there was a chance Leona would answer with "I have no dreams."

"-ona. Leona," There was an arm shaking his shoulder. Leona let out a disgruntled groan, opening an eye to see who disturbed his nap.

Oh. It was just them.

"Herbivore," Leona acknowledged, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You're late."

The herbivore stayed quiet for a moment before they spoke, "Sorry about that, I took up part-time at Sam's during lunches." There was a slight pause before they continued, "But what happened? Were you having a nightmare?"

"What makes you say that?" Leona sat up with a yawn.

"You were frowning really hard in your sleep," There was a finger poking at his brow. "Even your forehead was all wrinkled."

"Mm," Leona dismissed the question. "It wasn't a nightmare." The herbivore didn't seem all that convinced by that answer, but they let it go.

Leona Kingscholar didn't dream. But maybe he had to remedy that statement. There was one dream that sprouted deep within him lately that he didn't completely hate, even if he knew it was impossible to fulfill. He hoped that these simple days at NRC would never end.

iii. visitor

Visitors and Leona Kingscholar shouldn't ever exist in the same sentence in Leona's humble opinion. So it was easy to imagine just how excited Leona was when Crowley barged into a Magift Club practice he had to announce he had a visitor. He left another third year in charge, swearing under his breath all the while.

And it was even easier to imagine how simply overjoyed he was to see Crowley holding up a little ball of fur that was guaranteed to give him a headache.

His nephew lit up at the sight of him, "Ojitan!"

He held the giggling cub away from him, scowling, "Why the hell is the brat here?"

"Now, now, Kingscholar-kun!" Crowley tutted, eyes curving into gleeful crescents. "His majesty, Falena asked me for a favor, and his highness will only be here for a day, nothing more, nothing less. I've also taken the liberty of excusing you from all classes today."

"Oh right!" Crowley's clawed fingers snapped. "I almost forgot, I enlisted the help of some very capable personnel to assist you."

He heard the huffing and puffing even before they appeared in front of him. There they were, out-of-breath like they ran all the way to the fields from the main building. Leona debated tossing Cheka into their arms and making a run for it.

"This– This is the... life-threatening emergency that only I could take care of?" Their voice sounded indignant, and Leona felt his ears twitch the slightest bit.

Maybe he could put up with it. Just for today. Besides, he got a free pass to skip class for the day and he could spend it all with the herbivore? Obviously, it was a win-win situation— if only Cheka wouldn't absolutely annoy him.

"Here," Leona dropped Cheka into their arms. "Crowley'll pay you a standard rate per hour so you'll get your money's worth. Follow me." He knew that they would follow if he mentioned money. For some reason, they had been working themselves so ragged that even a certain hyena was complimenting them about it.

They ended up in Leona's room, the kid blabbering some nonsense about how he was the "greatest uncle in all of existence" and how he "worked hard so that Papa would let him visit cuz it was almost Ojitan’s birthday."

Leona sprawled out on his bed, watching the kid cautiously looking around his room. They took a seat at his desk, glancing between him and the brat every once in a while, "So I just...play with him...?"

"Make sure he doesn't get hurt either," Leona gave a deep sigh, seeing his phone light up with a call from his dearest brother and ignoring it. "Oneesama would kill me if he got hurt."

"Right," They nodded, trailing off to follow Cheka's wanderings.

Leona spared another glance at Cheka's sunset-colored hair. The sight of it had been burned into his memory ever since they first met.

Leona blinked and he was back to being seventeen, still living in the confines of the palace. He had rejected the invitation in NRC, still hellbent on trying to find a way to get himself to the throne. (How utterly foolish, he now thought.)

The hallways were filled with the sound of celebration. Usually, Leona wouldn't take interest in what was going on in the palace. But this time, the fanfare came to find him. There was a knock on his door, Falena's attendant telling him that the King had called for him. He should've known that something big had happened when even he was smiling.

Yet it wasn't until Falena was ushering him towards a cot (newly installed) and seeing his Oneesama resting in bed (sweat beading at her brows) that Leona really understood what was going on.

It felt like a kick to the chest when he saw him for the first time. Bright yellow and orange hair, rounded nose, and a pudgy face. Brown rounded ears that were a little too big, dressed in royal colors. The spitting image of Falena with a sprinkling of Oneesama, condensed into a child.

"This is your new nephew," Falena had said, his voice sounding so far away. "The naming ceremony won't be until tomorrow, but I'll tell you his name beforehand: Cheka Kingscholar."

Cheka Kingscholar.

This tiny little cub whose hand was a tenth of his was now the new rightful heir of Afterglow Savanna. He thought that he had at least a year before something like this happened, but it seemed like his time had been cut short.

He couldn't help but run away; away from that room, away from the child, away from Falena, and far, far away from everyone who would be able to see the tears streaking down his face.

On the day of the naming ceremony, Leona slinked through the halls, avoiding the guards and servants who busily moved about. He didn't want to get caught and dragged out to face the people after all.

Suddenly, his ears picked up a sharp wailing noise. He turned a corner, following the noise to a room. The door clicked open easily and he recognized it immediately.

It was his nephew's new room. And sure enough, there Cheka Kingscholar was, complete with tears rolling down flushed cheeks and fluffy ears flattened against unruly hair.

"Why're you crying, brat?" Leona leaned over the crib, watching as the baby kept crying. "You've got everything I ever wanted to have... A loving family, the right to the throne, and everyone adores you." He reached a hand forward, gripping the edge of the crib.

He inhaled sharply. And gave the crib a gentle push, letting it rock the slightest bit. Slowly but surely, the cries came to a stop. When he looked down, Cheka's sparkling eyes were staring at him. The kid had the audacity to let out a giggle he saw him, grabbing at his hair successfully.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" He raised a brow, steadying the crib. He had to admit that the brat was a little bit cute even if he was tugging a little too hard at his hair.

Leona paused before voicing his realization, "Hey, now that you've taken my succession rights, you better become a better king than I could be." He found that he couldn't bring himself to hate this little cub, despite him bringing an end to all his dreams.

There was a lump in his throat as he kept speaking, "So don't bother with me, alright? I'll just be your scary uncle that never visits. So...just forget about me."

At that point, Leona realized how pointless it was to talk to a literal baby. He quickly left the room, watching the door for a few minutes until he saw Oneesama enter the room.

And within the same week, he walked into NRC's Hall of Mirrors for the first time; the Mirror frantically shouting that his soul perfectly matched Savanaclaw. There were times when Leona felt bitter. Where he would long for the throne yet again, but he knew it was a hopeless endeavor.

"Ojitan! I've got something to give you!" Leona blinked away his daze only to be met with a brightly smiling Cheka.

He turned up his nose, "Do it quick, screech box, I’ve got things to do."

"Like sleeping," the herbivore commented drily; though he mercifully chose to ignore it this time.

"Here!" Cheka pushed something right at his face. "Open it now!"

It was a card, written in messy handwriting and punctuated by random doodles and spontaneous bursts of glitter. Leona looked at the drawings in a daze. There was a figure that was clearly Cheka, along with his parents. And right next to Falena was a figure that looked suspiciously like him.

"Happy Early Birthday!" Cheka cheered, climbing right into his lap. He nuzzled his face right into his neck, little arms wrapping around Leona’s shoulders.

"Brat," Leona said in a warning tone, pushing at the cub's face. "My birthday isn't for a while, but...thanks." He could see how Cheka lit up at the praise, practically bouncing and planting a kiss on his cheek before running back to the herbivore.

"He said 'thank you'!" Cheka preened as if a 'thank you' from him was worth thousands of thaumarks. They said something in return but Leona wasn't listening. He was still staring at the hastily drawn picture, the paper creasing where he held it too tight.

Even if it felt like a burden, family would always be family to Leona. That was the reason that he couldn't raise a hand against Falena, even if he was an ever-present thorn at his side. And that was the reason why he couldn't send Cheka away, even if he disturbed his peace.

(And if that card ended up in the confines of one of his rarely-used drawers, safely preserved with a protective spell, then well...Leona wouldn't know anything about it.)

iv. captured

“Checkmate.”

“Urk,” The Savanaclaw student in front of him winced as he stared down at the chessboard. “T-that was fast…”

Leona let a smirk spread on his face as he watched the student reset the board. He loosened his bolo tie as he sat, resting his chin in an open hand.

“Wow, I’m starting to get goosebumps,” Ruggie’s voice couldn’t have been any farther away from admiration. “Is this your fortieth win today?”

“Forty-first,” Leona corrected, his eyes languidly combing the room for a certain face. “I’m taking a break now.”

As Ruggie continued to fuss with his ever-growing pile of presents, Leona went back to searching the crowd. Quite a lot of people had come for the celebration of his birthday.

But the one he was really looking for was…running around serving drinks.

Leona bit back a sigh. Of course they would be one of the people working in this crowd. Hell, even that busy-bodied octopunk wasn’t lifting a finger for his birthday. It was half-amusing and half-frustrating to see.

His ears twitched as he heard footsteps approaching him, and there was Jack. A plate piled high full of meat rested in the burly freshman’s hands as he shifted from left to right.

“Uh…” Jack coughed. “I thought Leona-senpai might’ve been hungry, so I got you something.”

He stared at Jack before, tilting his head to the table, “Put it down there, pup.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Jack said, though Leona could see the stable swish of his tail behind him. “I got a variety of meat for you, senpai. So happy birthday and I promise I’ll catch up to you in spelldrive soon.”

He watched as Jack left. If Jack was a chess piece, Leona was sure he would be a knight. Knights move in their rigid L-shape, yet it is a powerful piece. They can be the very force that topples the stability of a game. They’re able to break through defenses that other pieces might not be able to touch.

Leona rolled his eyes at the thought. Was it because it was his birthday that he was feeling sentimental? Anyway, all he knew was that Jack was undoubtedly a part of his pride; the small circle of people that Leona let befriend him.

“Eh~ Leona-san not finishing a plate of meat in two seconds?” Ruggie’s voice reached him faster than the lightness of his steps. “Next thing I know you’ll tell me you went vegetarian, shishishishi~”

“Shut it, Ruggie,” Leona stabbed a fork into a steak, his fangs cutting through the meat like butter. “And go get me a drink while you’re at it.”

“But, Leona-san, wouldn’t you rather get a drink delivered to you by your precious little herbivore?” Leona wasn’t sure what part of him betrayed his thoughts; his tail, ears, or even his expression but Ruggie burst into laughter. “This is so rich! Give me a sec, it’ll be a special service since it’s my boss’ birthday.”

“Oi, Ruggie—”

But before he could even utter another word, Ruggie had sped off into the crowd. Leona sighed for two reasons: one, because he almost felt sorry for all the people Ruggie had mugged in the crowd, and two, because Ruggie was a little too observant at times.

If Ruggie was a chess piece, he would be a pawn. That might be cruel to say, but pawns are a formidible piece. They might go unnoticed like infantry in a war. And yet only pawns are able to sneak through the board to bring another queen into the battle. An expert at rallying allies and an unseen giant in chess. That was the pawn.

Leona placed his fork on the table, before speaking, “You’re a hundred years early if you wanna sneak up on me like that.”

“How did you- Never mind,” They shuffled in front of him, carrying a tray of drinks. “What would you like to drink?”

“Hmm?” Leona felt his tail rising into the air, though he didn’t stop it. “Aren’t you supposed to be more polite to the birthday boy?”

Their brows furrowed, “You didn’t even like being called the birthday boy!”

“And what? I can’t change my mind on that?” Leona felt a slow smirk grow on his face the more they looked like they were about to deck him with the drink tray.

“Alright.” They took a breath. “Happiest of days of birth, Leona Kingscholar! If you would be so inclined to state your preference of beverage, I shall happily acquire it for you.”

Leona’s smirk twisted into a frown, “Never do that ever again.”

There was a small smile toying at their lips before they put down a glass, “Fine. Here, I heard this drink was your favorite.”

“You’re gonna leave just like that?” Emerald green eyes softened just a little upon meeting their gaze. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your favorite lion a gift, herbivore.”

They sighed in what Leona thought was exasperation, “Of course I did. It’s sitting in your room.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Huh?” Leona had to admit, seeing their eyes blinking at him in confusion like that was pretty damn cute.

“C'mon herbivore, let’s ditch the party for a bit,” Leona stood up, casting a spell on both of them while he waved a hand. This way people wouldn’t be able to see him leave.

“Wait a sec, what about the cake?” They blurted, hand secured in Leona’s own. And for once, Leona was glad he wasn’t wearing his gloves, relishing in the warm press of his palm against theirs.

“I don’t like sweets,” Leona reminded, leading them through the hallways of the Savanaclaw dormitories.

“I know, but— why am I coming with you anyway? You could open it by yourself, can’t you?” But at that point, Leona had already made up his mind.

“Indulge in me for a little, herbivore,” Leona’s expression filled with mirth. “Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration for me, right?”

“You— I seriously think that you’re overdoing it on the birthday boy thing,” They grumbled as the pair finally made it into the privacy of Leona’s room. The sounds of the party gently trickled in through Leona’s open windows, and he spotted their gift easily.

It was a small box, a simple piece of twine with a tag completing the present. He started to shake it, only to be interrupted by their gasp, “Wait! It’ll break if you handle it carelessly!”

Leona raised a brow, “’S it really that fragile? Fine, I’ll open it carefully, alright?” They nodded, looking infinitely more nervous now, though Leona couldn’t fathom why.

Inside the box was a smaller metal box. He turned it around in his hands, “What am I supposed to do with this?” They hesitated, before pressing one of the buttons on the side.

An image flickered to life on a holographic screen. He poked a finger through it, watching the display distort around his fingers. The pictures changed every few seconds, each one more surprising than the last.

“It’s…a photo album,” They handed the box back to him. “There’s a lot of pictures in there, I dug some up from the school newspaper and magicam account. There are also pictures I got from his majesty, Falena too. I had the device commissioned by Ignihyde, which is why it’s so…futuristic looking.”

“It must’ve cost a lotta money,” Leona said quietly, unable to take his eyes off the pictures. There were pictures of him as a child sprinkled amongst his memories in NRC. There were even pictures that were no doubt their work; evident from the way Leona recognized all his favorite napping spots in the background.

“That’s right,” They nudged at his elbow. “You should appreciate my hard work.” And it hit Leona right then and there that the reason they had been working so hard— the very reason they needed all that money in the first place— was because of this very gift in his hands. There was a lump in his throat as more and more pictures passed; the memories flashing in his mind both bitter and sweet.

“I do,” He placed the box down, turning to face them. "Thank you.”

The thanks that left Leona’s lips were more sincere than he was expecting. But Leona wasn’t surprised anymore considering these complicated feelings that swirled around his heart. He already tried suppressing them; acting unfairly mean, and arrogant towards them, even going as far as ignoring them for a while. But to Leona, it felt even worse to be without them than it was to have them around, even if they didn’t know of his feelings. So he swallowed his self-deprecation and anxiety in order to stay with them. He had already made up his mind to let those feelings stay, even if he wasn’t equipped with the knowledge to adequately express them.

Ah, but if they were a chess piece, would they be the queen to his king? The king was quite lazy. The most important piece, and yet he doesn’t move around all that much. He was always being protected by other pieces, whilst the queen was free to move around as she wished. The queen was fitting for them; in the way they ran head-first into battles they might not even win. Though, there was something bothering him with this thought.

Another possibility entered his mind not soon after: what if they were his king?

If they were chess pieces in Leona’s imaginary game, it would make the utmost sense if they were the king. The king was no doubt the center of the game. A piece to be protected at all costs, lest the game is lost. Just like how they were always in the center of everything and everyone here at NRC. And if they were the king, then he would willingly become their queen. Because for them, there wasn’t anything Leona wouldn’t give.

“The Leona Kingscholar thanking little old me?” Leona let his tail swat at their face. “It was a joke, really! I’m just glad that you liked it. I wasn’t sure if you’d like this type of gift.”

“This type of gift being…?”

“A sentimental gift,” A smile tugged at their lips. “I guess there are even days where the great Leona Kingscholar feels sentimental.”

And instead of refuting it, Leona simply agreed, “I guess there are.”

Matters of the heart seemed to elude him, but for them, Leona was willing to be a fool in love. They had somehow captured him, disarming all of Leona’s carefully constructed defenses and taking his heart as their own.

Even now, as they blinked at him, completely unaware of his internal dilemma, Leona couldn’t help but bump his head against theirs in fondness. The little squawk they let out at the sudden motion only served to make him smile, though he quickly hid it with a turn of his head.

“Watch the rest of it with me,” The offer was whispered; as if Leona was too afraid to break the silence that had surrounded them. They nodded, and Leona was all too happy to shuffle towards the pillows on his bed. After getting in a more, mm, comfortable position— which entailed using the herbivore as a pillow— he was content to watch the pictures change. He offered up a couple of comments on a few pictures, earning a few hums in reply.

Leona didn’t get to cut the cake with his dorm mates that year; much to the disappointment of many. To him, it was the first birthday that he truly felt like he belonged. And those memories were more precious and infinitely sweeter than the taste that any expensive cake could bring him.

thank you for reading ! i hope you enjoyed and once again, happy birthday to leona kingscholar <333 if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist >:DDD

#/trau writes #/trau fics #i'm doing this for the lion man #that's my mantra rn sjdfkjskf #legitimately sick as i'm editing #oof sorry if the ending sucks #i'm literally so fucking sleepy help #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fics #twst fics #twst x reader

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cookies-over-yonder · 8 months

Text

when did my hands start to crack from the pressure to make myself palatable

The teens are on a camping trip as a sort of stress reliever.

One night, Link wakes up, and Taylor isn't there.

[title from In the black. by August Greenwood (highly recommend!)]

part 1 of human nature

dedicated to @happi-tree (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘) (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ)♥

ao3

♡

Link wakes up in a cold sweat. He's not exactly sure what the nightmare was this time, but it's unsettling nonetheless.

He turns to take comfort in Taylor's presence on the sleeping bag beside his, but he's met with nothing.

Taylor isn't there.

Oh no.

He's not in the cabin.

Shit.

Link should have known better than to let his guard down like this.

He's on his feet in a second, and out the door in two, scanning the area in three.

Where is Taylor?

He can't be far—well, actually, he can.

Oh god.

Link turns a corner to scan the area behind the cabin, and fuck, fuck, fuck, he's gone, this can't be happening, Taylor's missing and—

Oh, thank god , he's there, visible and alive, sitting by a little campfire.

Link can feel himself breathe again. Oh, thank god.

Taylor is right there…

And he's… crying?

Link is closer now, and Taylor is curled in on himself. He's shaking too, and his breathing is staggered and sobs escape him every few seconds.

Okay, this is unusual, but considering all the shit that went down, it's not too surprising that it's finally hitting him, but it's still a sad sight.

Link sits beside him.

"Hey, Taylor, what's wrong?"

Taylor pulls his hands away from his face, but he doesn't look at Link. He continues to stare off at the fire.

His breathing is really unsteady and laboured.

"I had… a weird dream," he says, and his voice is low and his words are slurred, "and, and I needed to get my—my mind off of it so I…l came out here because… fresh air, right?"

Taylor's voice cracks, and oh, he sounds so small.

The longer he talks, the higher his voice gets in pitch.

"I… wanted fresh air, and I came out here, but the sky looks so weird, like, like, like, everything is supposed to be normal now, but it feels weird, and I keep hearing noises, and I'm not even cold I just wanted the fire because it reminds me of the sky even though that was red and this is orange, it reminds me of the sky and what it should look like, well, what it used to look like—"

A sob rips through him, cutting him off, and Link throws an arm around his shoulders. He is really warm, there's no need for the fire, but Link can definitely understand finding comfort in its appearance.

"And, and, and—" Taylor continues, with little gasps between the words and a wobbly voice, "my, my sleeping bag is too hot, I got bitten by a bug even though I used bug spray—" he presses into Link's side, crying even harder and trembling violently. "I miss my mom , she—she—she lost an arm because of stupid fucking Willy , I, I should have warned her, I should have stopped him!"

Taylor's scratching his arms aggressively and breathing fast, and Link definitely needs to intervene here before he hurts himself—

"I miss my dad, too, and I, mmm, I don't know— I don't know why I'm so upset because I shouldn't be, but I wish he didn't have to leave me and mom, why wasn't he there? Couldn't there have been some sort of loophole for him to still see us? Or at least send… le—letters?"

Taylor is severely hyperventilating now. There's no way he isn't light-headed.

"Why—why wasn't he there? I mean, you know, actually… even—even if he could have stayed with me, why would he have anyway, right? "

Sob after sob wracks his body, and he's still scratching his arms, and then Link sees him draw blood—

"Taylor," Link pulls Taylor away from his side to face him properly. His eyes are wide and glazed over, and he's still tearing his arms to shreds, and gasping, and sobbing.

" Taylor, " Link tries again, but Taylor still doesn't register him.

"Taylor, hey," Link taps Taylor's hands, which are still sliding up and down his arms, making the cuts even deeper. "Hold my hands?"

He pulls his hands away from his arms ever so slightly, and Link holds onto them, stretching his arms out to assess the damage.

There are lines running down his arms. Not all of them have broken the skin, but a few have, and there's blood leaking out of them, some of which has been smeared across the other scratches.

Lay On Hands is definitely the solution here. Taylor is shaking and crying and making these pained little whimpers that hurt Link so deeply, he just wants to kiss it better.

Well, maybe…

Link lifts Taylor's arms up closer to his face and plants a kiss on each of his forearms, casting the spell with each kiss.

Taylor makes a noise that sounds a little less like pain and a little more like surprise. For a moment, Link wonders if that was a grave mistake, but then he grips Link's hands tighter.

He's still sobbing hard, and Link worries he might work himself into passing out.

"Breathe, Taylor," Link says, looking up to meet his eyes, but they're shut tight.

"I… hnghhh…" Taylor whines, and his breathing remains unsteady as ever, and his nails are digging into Link's skin now—at least it's not his own.

Taylor's hair is stuck to his face with sweat, and god, he looks so small, so scared, so fragile. All that Link has known is Taylor's boundless confidence and self-assurance, and the way he always carries himself like he's on top of the world, but here, and now, all of the things he's said…

Does he really believe it?

What happened to his mom… it's not his fault. He's got to know that.

And with his dad… Taylor never mentioned missing his dad before. In fact, he would gloat about how cool it was that Nicky 'left to protect him,' but does he truly think that he just wasn't worth it?

That couldn't be further from the truth…

Link blinks away his own tears and resolves to remedy the situation at hand.

"Taylor, can you tell me five things you can see?" Link asks. It's an exercise he's known for as long as he can remember.

Taylor opens his eyes ever so slightly, and frowns. "Blood."

Link looks down at their interlocked hands. His fingers are bloodied from scratching at his arms.

"Okay, that's one," Link says, wincing at the weakness in his own voice. "What else?"

Taylor's looking around now. That's good. "Orange," he says, looking at the fire, "...trees…" he says, gazing at the dark forest surrounding them.

"That's good, two more?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know— "

Link gives his hands a light squeeze. Taylor's breathing started speeding up again. "It's okay, no rush, just look around."

Taylor drops his head forward and stares at the ground.

"Grass, and… my… my… um… bruises."

"Good, you're doing great, okay?"

"Okay—" Taylor sobs, and he sucks in a strained breath, and another, and another, and okay, time to continue.

"Can you tell me four things you can feel right now?"

"I—I'm sss…sweaty, and I feel hot, and, and, and, itchy, I—" Taylor pulls his hands away from Link, scrubs at the tears on his face, flaps his hands and frantically runs his fingers through his hair. "I—I can't …"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Link runs his hands up and down Taylor's arms. "Can you feel me?"

"Ye—yeah," he nods. "Yeah, I can."

"Good, focus on that for a while, okay?" Link says softly, continuing to run his hands up and down when Taylor relaxes into the touch.

"Okay," Taylor whispers, closing his eyes.

"It's gonna be alright," Link says, and Taylor leans in closer and presses himself against Link's chest, crying into it.

"Taylor, hey," Link starts rubbing circles into his back. "The next thing is three things you can hear, but you said the sounds were bothering you earlier so we can skip this one if—"

"The… the crackling of the fire," Taylor mumbles. "Crickets, I think… and… and… your voice? Is that three?"

"Yeah, it is," Link smiles, continuing to rub his back. "You still okay?"

Taylor nods.

"Okay, how about two things you can smell?"

"Bug spray. Um. Fire."

Taylor is tracing the fabric of Link's shirt with his finger. It feels like he's tracing a heart, but, well, Link can't be sure. Besides, it's not important.

"Okay, we're almost done. Is there one thing you can taste?"

"Mmm, mint… from my toothpaste… I think…"

"Good job," Link says, "Feeling any better?"

"A little… not much, but, but I think it helped a bit… thanks, man…"

Taylor stops tracing his finger on Link's shirt and instead splays his hand out flat against his chest.

"Of course."

Taylor's breathing is slower, albeit still shaky, when he speaks again. "Sorry… I don't know why I… I'm usually fine about this stuff… I—I don't know what came over me."

God. Link feels like crying now.

"Hey, it's okay, if you ever need to talk to someone about anything, I'm right here, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Taylor says, a little dryly, wrapping his arms around Link.

Link holds him tighter and plants a kiss on his forehead.

"'M sleepy…" Taylor mumbles.

"You wanna go back?"

"Mmhmm…"

"Okay, up we go," Link says, shifting Taylor to lift him up.

The campfire has died out now, leaving nothing but darkness save for the light from the new stars and unfamiliar sky. The moonlight shines on Taylor's face, highlighting the tear stains on his cheeks. His lips are bloodied are parted ever so slightly, revealing a fang. They're getting sharper, and Taylor's a lip-biter—maybe Link could gift him some lip balm…

He slips that thought to the back of his mind to revisit later.

His eyes are half lidded and glowing, and he's gazing at Link like he's some sort of guiding light, even though technically speaking with the way they glow he's the real light here—or whatever. Just… Link starts back to the cabin, shaking away the thought and the heat from his face.

Once they're back, Link puts Taylor down on top of his sleeping bag and lies down beside him—not clinging to him, because he mentioned it being too hot earlier.

But then Taylor's arm stretches out and his hand looks like it's reaching for something. Link puts his hand over Taylor's, and it locks onto him immediately. Their fingers are interlocked—Taylor's hot, sweaty, and still a little stained with blood, and Link's cold, fidgety and uncertain.

Link runs his thumb across the back of Taylor's hand, over, and over, and over, and over, and some way, somehow, it lulls the both of them to sleep.

♡

#swiftli #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li-wilson #dndads #dndads fic #fic #hurt/comfort #angst #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #<3 #enjoy <3<3<3 #human nature

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babydaddyleorio · 2 years

Text

Hungover

genre: comedy/crack

pairings: reader x nanami

synopsis: Your big day is right around the corner, and you were beyond happy to finally tie the knot with your fiancee, Kento Nanami. As his best friend and best man, Gojo insisted on throwing Nanami a bachelor party before he gets married to you. Of course, chaos is bound to happen if Gojo is in charge of anything, though.

warning: adult situations, profanity, and grammatical errors!

and... this is a rip-off of the movie “The Hangover” if it wasn’t obvious lol sorry not sorry

final note: this story is very random and has been sitting in my drafts for the longest. I’m probably not going to continue this, and it's rushed because I was too lazy to edit lol. Anyways, enjoy the crack.

How could one bachelor party end up going so wrong?

Although Gojo was typically a lightweight when it came to the very mention of alcohol, he still never in a million years expected to become this shitfaced when downing the few drinks he did have last night. His head banged violently as if to constantly be beat like a drum, and his stomach bubbled with irritation as he twisted around in this small space he was enclosed in.

Gojo then retched back in abrupt confusion and slowly wiggled his butt in a side-to-side motion before a frown spread across his lips at how restricted his body felt.

And as Gojo’s palms curiously felt around the foreign walls that surrounded him, it dawned on him that he was no longer in his soft, cushioned bed– but instead sitting in something hard and uncomfortably narrow. His sore eyes slowly peeled open to reveal that he was sprawled in a bathtub, the water from its faucet slightly dripping onto his socks and the railing for the shower curtain sitting across his lap.

“What the hell?” He rasped as he struggled to sit upright, an ache traveling across his lower back as he slid against the tiled wall. However, the unsettling sound of what seemed to be a low growl caught his attention just before he could move an inch further. Gojo’s forehead scrunched in confusion at the sudden commotion before he slowly turned his head to the side, his blurry vision making the unclear figure beside him multiply into threes.

“Who… are you?” Gojo asked in a strained voice, but he was left with no reply. He languidly took his balled fists and rubbed his eyes to clear his foggy sight before blinking them open to see the person beside him.

Only, there wasn’t a person standing beside him.

No, what stood beside Gojo was none other than a Kangaroo.

Gojo squinted his eyes before drunkenly shaking his head.

“Nah, can’t be right.” He hiccuped as he shut his eyes once more, thinking that he should try again since he obviously still couldn’t see straight.

And after about 5 seconds, Gojo peeled them open again.

Just to see that the Kangaroo was still in the same spot he had left it.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he cautiously stood up, the Kangaroo also lifting its arms in a predatory stance at how Gojo raised to his full height. Now Gojo was really regretting drinking as much as he did because his intoxication was making him hallucinate.

“Tuh, the Tequila must be fucking with me.” He sighed before gripping the bridge of his nose in irritation. He looked back up to see the Kangaroo still sneering at him and Gojo chuckled tiredly. He figured he should entertain this idea, you know, since he was still dreaming right now.

“You are seriously one ugly motherfucker.” Gojo suddenly snorted as he examined the oversized rodent in front of him, and the Kangaroo's eyes slowly narrowed into slits as if to understand Gojo’s insult.

“What, got a staring problem, little dude?” Gojo taunted before laughing at himself again, his cocky aurora resuming. His long legs stepped out of the bathtub, wobbling slightly on his balance before he stood face to face with the growling animal.

“Oh, pipe down.” Gojo scoffed before he flicked its nose. “You’re not even real. You’re in my mind.”

Gojo then made a poof sound and moved his hands as if to emulate an explosion beside his head.

Though, the Kangaroo merely snorted before quickly slapping Gojo across his face.

Gojo gasped loudly as his head flew to the side and he slowly squinted his eyes at how real it felt.

“Um… ow?” Gojo spoke while holding his cheek in disbelief. “That felt a little too real.”

Gojo suddenly stiffened before his gaze hesitantly trailed back towards the animal.

“Hold on a second,” Gojo’s eyes widened as if finally clicking pieces together. “Are you real?”

The Kangaroo nodded its head at Gojo’s question, a mischievous glint now present in its eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

Next thing you knew, Gojo was screaming at the top of his lungs as his body flew out of the bathroom, a result of being completely manhandled by the kangaroo.

Gojo sucked in a deep breath as his body collided into the back of the couch in the living room and he winced at the pain now erupting in his ribs. Normally he would’ve had his infinity on to protect himself, but he was way too out of it to get it activated in time in his defense.

“Hey, could you keep it down? I'm trying to sleep.” Getou yawned while peeking his head over the couch, his eyes still closed and slob crusted on the side of his mouth.

“Considering I just got assaulted by a fucking Kangeroo, no– I don’t think I will keep it down, Suguru.” Gojo hissed in response, causing Getou to knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

“The hell are you talking about? It’s too early for your nonsense, Satoru.” Getou groaned while sluggishly opening his eyes, but all his movements stilled completely once he saw the menacing animal glaring at him from the bathroom's doorway.

“Holy shit, that’s a Kangaroo.” Getou whispered now fully awake, eyes quickly darting towards Gojo. “Since when did we have a Kangaroo?”

“I don’t know where it came from, but it’s fucking evil, that’s for sure.” Gojo spat as he held his side, bitterness leaking from his tone.

The Kangaroo snarled before bucking at them, causing both Getou and Gojo to jump in their spot.

“What do we do?” Getou whispered frantically and Gojo pondered for a second before he snapped his fingers.

“I think I heard on National Geographic that his name is Joey, so maybe If we address it as that he won’t be as mad,” Gojo suggested, thinking that maybe being polite would help.

“You dumbass, his name isn’t Joey, that’s what they call their kids.” Getou rolled his eyes, wondering why he had even bothered asking Gojo in the first place.

“Oh,” Gojo frowned his lips before snorting disapprovingly. “Well, who came up with that?”

“Look, as long as we don't move or make a sound we should be fine. Anything can set him off.” Getou whispered in assurance and Gojo slowly nodded in agreement.

“Okay, I won’t make a peep.” Gojo said while folding his lips inward.

Their plan would’ve been solid, that was if the blare of a ringtone didn’t abruptly sound two seconds later.

The Kangaroo’s eyes shot open and he hopped after them, making Gojo and Getou scatter around the room while yelling in unison. The Kangeroo aggressively bounced after them with absolute murder on his mind.

“WHY IS IT SO VIOLENT?” Gojo screamed before he avoided a punch that it suddenly sent his way. “AND WHY IS IT ONLY AFTER ME?”

“I DON’T KNOW JUST OPEN THE DOOR. OPEN THE DOOOOORRRR! ” Getou’s scream was high-pitched as he jumped on the kitchen counter, grabbing the nearest spatula and waving it around to defend himself.

“Think fast!” Gojo shouted before throwing a pillow at the Kangaroo’s face, causing it to stagger backward. Gojo took this as an opportunity to run towards the front door and swing it open.

“Alright, you want a piece of me, huh, Joey? Well, bring it on, bitch!” Gojo waved a red solo cup that was beside him in the air, copying how he had seen the people on TV try to capture a bull's attention. The Kangaroo threw the pillow to the floor and turned to face Gojo, his beady eyes glaring daggers at him.

It was like a scene out of one of those western movies, where a tumbleweed fell between Gojo and the Kangaroo in the middle of their standoff. Gojo wiped the side of his mouth, and the Kangaroo thumped its foot before thundering towards the white-haired man. Gojo waited and just as it got close, Gojo stepped from in front of the door and the Kangaroo ran out into the hallway. Gojo immediately shut the door and put his back against the door while locking it, breathing in and out heavily before throwing his head back.

“What the hell did we do last night?” Gojo asked while out of breath, turning himself to face Getou. His best friend sighed while dropping his head, but before Getou could answer, they heard a loud bang come from the back room and then footsteps following suit.

“What’s with all the ruckus?” A deep voice called before sucking their teeth in annoyance. “You’re fuckin’ with my beauty sleep.”

Gojo and Getou’s heads turned to see a figure waltzing out of the master bedroom, but their eyes widened once they saw that the figure was also booty butt naked.

“Dammit Toji, put some clothes on!” Getou fussed while covering his eyes with a plate beside him and Gojo whistled lowly at the lethal weapon Toji possessed, and he wasn’t referring to his gun either.

Toji’s gaze lowered down to his exposed area before chuckling deeply to himself.

“My fault.”

Gojo smacked his hand against his forehead because of the pounding headache he still had. The hotel room was completely trashed and Gojo cringed at the damages he would surely have to pay for. Getou slowly eased off the counter he was standing on, scooting away from Toji in disgust as he passed him, and went to grab the phone to check who had called. But as soon as he picked it up, he froze once he saw the many notifications on the screen.

“Well, this is bad.”

Toji stuck his head out of the refrigerator he had just opened with a slice of bread now hanging out his mouth.

“What is?”

“There’s so many missed calls from y/n.” Getou stared at the screen before slowly looking up. That’s when he noticed that someone important was missing.

“Guys…where’s Nanami?”

Everyone in the room paused, those words seeming to snap all their memories back in place. They had come to Vegas for Nanami’s bachelor party, giving the stoic man a little surprise before his big day. Nanami’s wedding was in less than two days, and Gojo wanted him to go out with a bang before he would be tied down for the rest of his life. Though, he figured that he must’ve gotten a little carried away last night.

“Fuck,” Getou groaned out loud while dragging his hand down his face.

“Alright, okay– everyone just calm down,” Gojo stated, although he was inwardly panicking himself since the hotel room was empty of the blonde man. “Maybe he went to go get breakfast.”

“Breakfast isn’t open yet, plus this is his phone. He would never leave it behind.” Getou countered while shaking his head in protest.

“Is he anywhere in the back?” Gojo tried again, but Toji clicked his tongue.

“Didn’t see him when I came from the bedroom. And all the doors have been ripped from the hinges so it’s impossible not to notice anyone.” Toji commented and Gojo sighed since there were no traces of him in the bathroom either.

“Well check his phone, there might be something on it.” Gojo quipped, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. Toji shrugged his shoulders before going back to fixing a sandwich. Luckily Nanami was too square to put a lock on, so Getou effortlessly scrolled to the camera roll to see the many pictures they took last night.

“Woah, this is insane,” Getou spoke once all the pictures were populated. There were pictures of them partying, and each one just seemed to get even worse the more he swiped.

“I see Nanami in some of these,” Getou commented the more he progressed, though he paused once he saw himself tonguing down an old lady, a look of horror now spreading across his face.

“Huh, never knew you were into Gilfs,” Gojo commented as he peeked over his shoulder and Getou sucked his teeth before hastily deleting the picture.

Yet the next picture they saw was of Choso drinking on the roof.

“Oh no… we forgot about Choso.” Gojo murmured in realization and luckily the roof he was on looked to be the Hotels. The three men all darted out the front door, well after they made Toji put on some pants, to go find Choso.

They ran up the escape exit stairs and burst through the door, and the harsh sunlight made them hiss painfully.

“Choso?” Gojo craned his neck as he pushed his sunglasses down, and Getou cupped his hands to his mouth as he continued to shout for him as well.

“Choso, where are you, man?” Getou yelled, eyes squinting in distress.

“Choso!” Toji sucked his teeth loudly while patting his knees enthusiastically. “Choso, here boy!”

Gojo and Getou immediately stopped and turned to face him.

“Toji, what the hell are you doing?”

Toji paused before looking at them as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “What does it look like– I’m calling Choso, duh.”

Gojo and Getou slowly turned their heads to look at each other before slowly turning back towards Toji.

“No… Choso, Nanami’s best man for the wedding.”

Toji raised an eyebrow.

“He drove with us here… remember?”

Toji raised his other eyebrow.

“Wait… so you mean to tell me that Choso isn’t a dog?” Toji asked in utter disbelief because this was news to him.

Gojo and Getou sighed loudly.

They weren't even going to start with Toji right now.

They ended up splitting up after that and after a few long minutes, luck seemed to fall on them.

“Hey guys, I think I found him!” Getou eagerly called over his shoulder. Choso had his body leaned against the cement door, his arms wrapped around his legs as he sat on the ground rocking himself backward and forward. The three men all stared at Choso with wide eyes before awkwardly clearing their throats.

“Hey, buddy… you alright?” Gojo cautiously asked as he slowly crouched down next to him.

“You guys… left me out here… all last night,” Choso muttered, hair stuck to his forehead and bottom lip trembling.

He truly looked traumatized.

“Jesus, he’s shaking like a stripper. The hell happened to him?” Toji squinted before chuckling lowly.

“Choso, we’re sorry we left you, okay? But we really need your help, right now. None of us can remember where Nanami is, so do you have any idea where he could be?”

Choso slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Great.” Getou breathed while dropping his head because they still didn’t have any leads. Toji stretched his muscles, honestly bored at where this was going. Though, Gojo noticed something under Toji’s tank top.

“Wait, did you get a new tattoo?” Gojo asked with squinted eyes.

Toji looked over his shoulder in confusion to see the tramp stamp that was now on his back.

“Must’ve got it last night.” He scoffed while tilting his head to see it better.

“Wait, what does it say? It could be a clue.” Getou perked up, thinking this could help them find their lost friend.

“It says… property of Monique.” Gojo read out loud before scrunching his face. “Who the hell is Monique?”

Toji furrowed his eyebrows and his gaze flickered to his finger. “Wait, is this a ring?”

“Don’t tell me you got married.” Gojo snorted jokingly before his face fell in realization once he realized everyone around paused with seriousness. Gojo rubbed the back of his neck before looking away. “Damn.”

“There’s a symbol on it.” Getou pointed out, ctrying to change the subject.

“I think I remember seeing that symbol in one of the pictures, it was on a building.” Gojo mused. Getou pulled out Nanami’s phone, pinching his fingers to zoom in to see the symbol that they were talking about.

“There it is!”

“Then let’s go, we need to find him today otherwise we’re screwed.”

The men jogged towards the door in haste, happy they finally got somewhere. Though, Gojo paused since something still felt off.

“I feel like we’re missing something.” Gojo hummed as his pace slowed.

Getou halted before looking around and then sucked his teeth in realization.

“We forgot Choso again.”

Getou and Gojo ran back to go get their traumatized friend, but Toji simply rolled his eyes at the two.

“Some people just don’t deserve pets,” Toji tsked, shaking his head and trailing lazily behind them.

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missathlete31 · 7 months

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Hi.

I'm going to need a detailed analysis on every aspect of Just A Scratch. I am SO obsessed with this i cant WAIT for part 2.

Im a slut for hurt/comfort on a normal day--add in the fact that its Nat & Jake--also that Nat is put in a situation that SO many of us have been in, and we see her vulnerable for the first time in how she reacts (not the cool calm collected badass.)

Idk man ive been in sinilar situations and my immediate reaction has always been to fawn. ("Dont say anything to make them angry amd make the sitation worse-thats the only way out") and seeing a badass, confident woman like Natasha rocked a little bit, and thrown off/not immediately shove him off/etc... idk, makes me feel a little more seen in my knee-jerk responses to harrassment.

Idk man, i just feel SEEN.

Thank you for that. 🥺 i wasnt expecting to feel healing when i read this at 5am. 🥹

-- @callsign-barbell 🔔

Okay first off- THANK YOU for reading my story and being such a fan that you reached out! A detailed analysis!!!! OMG don’t tempt me!!! Lol

But in all seriousness I’m so happy that everyone seems so interested and understanding with Nats reaction! I know it’s a little against cannon because like you said she is normally so calm cool and collected badass but I really liked exploring her vulnerable side. The guy throws her off her game because she really wasn’t expecting it and she goes through what a lot of people do in these unwanted situations- shakiness and uncertainty.

As someone that’s worked in hockey arenas and bars for 10 years I know that this situation happens and it happens a lot. Sometimes it’s more innocent (someone reading vibes wrong) and sometimes it can be dangerous. I completely get your fawn reaction, my go to was always to just laugh it off and get on to another customer. It’s never easy to feel unsettled and especially in this story where the predator was violent, these situations can escalate very quickly.

Part 2 is going to explore a little bit of victim shaming (Natasha is going to think this is all her fault) and while I don’t want to seem virtue signaling I think it’s an important step in the progress of the story.

It’s funny, this really meant to be a one shot, slight Hannix angst with a wholesome ending. But I’m enjoying the more serious tones in this especially if it helps readers see that even the strongest fictional characters can experience these moments like we do.

Thank you again for being so awesome @callsign-barbell and all other readers. Feel free to reach out again with any questions, or if you want to vent or anything!

I really hope you all like Part 2 and Part 3

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #nat trace #phoenix is a badass #so are you guys #just a scratch #top gun #anon ask #dagger squad #top gun: maverick #hannix fic #hannix

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oftincturedwords · 1 year

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No Quiet Find sounds super cool!

I'm picturing the crew to stumbled upon a nest of sirens and Bush ends up with a siren baby by accident. But I also can see Bush with a water dragon baby to take care of

I bet the actual story is even better!

Ask Me About My WIPs !

thank you !! & agdkflgl aaah i love that idea so much , the very thought of bush becoming a guardian to a siren baby or water dragon baby is too adorable

especially since i can envision it being entirely by accident & reluctantly so , like the babe is only calm & happy when around or with bush thus bush is given charge of them. bush silently frets but does become endeared to them , it's unavoidable agdkflg xD

alas sadly my wip isn't about that :( although i very much love that idea , mine is rather less lighthearted , at least in the beginning that is. it more so along the vein of angst / hurt / comfort :||| bUT if you must know a spoiler , a tiny one that is ;P it does get better , for all characters involved , i cannot write angst without the happy ending. it just doesn't for my muse , it's too sad ahdkfgl

now for the actual idea instead of my cryptic ramblings agdkflg ; it's set during hornblower and the hotspur , more specifically during the end of chapter sixteen. it could be said to be set during the series' three episode two : duty , but it would be even more so an au than it already is but eh the series played with the timelines so why shouldn't i ? ahdkflflg xD however it does follow more so book canon than the series , i do have matthews & styles in it because i do love what the series did with those characters , their development & the dynamics they have with horatio & bush , & with each other. it's personable & fun !

.... again i tangent away from the aCTUAL idea ahdkflg sorry , i think i am nervous ?? about sharing this because i don't know if it's even a good idea & i worry over getting the details right , but aaaah sorry i will get on with it agdjfkf i am just being anxious & weird about it & i don't mean to be , so here goes the idea : horatio reacts harshly to something bush says , although horatio does regret how he reacted & the words said , duty gets in the way of him making any attempts at amends because , i as the writer , has a storm begin to come in soon thereafter & thus duty to the ship outweighs any personal matters

except fate is never kind to those who leave things for fixing later because bush goes overboard during the storm :||| & that's all i will say on it agskdlflg no jk , you know i would never do harm to bush ... or much harm that is xD just a little tiny bit of harm to him & lots of angst for horatio agdkflf at least in this there's more than his fair share :|| but as you know it all is better in the end ^^ i cannot have angst without the happy ending , i just cannot write it , it's an impossible feat for me agdkflf

anyway , enough of my ramblings , here's an excerpt :

'... It was hours later, when the sea had ran dry of its tumultuous ire, when the waves had ceased their violent churning and the relentless sheets of rain had tapered off to a mere drizzle of drops and unsettled seaspray, that Hornblower found himself in his cabin without recalling his descent from the deck above. Dressed still in his sea drenched uniform, his hat hung limply between his fingers from where his hands rested between his knees. Shoulders drooped and back slumped to the point of strain against the tight, military fashioning of his still buttoned navy coat. Yet heedless was he of it.

Soaked to the bone as he was, his brown curls lay plastered to his head to run rivulets of water down his face and neck. It too dripped off the ends of his cloak, tracing wet lines along the curves of his hands down to the points on his bicorne hat in intermittent plips to create small puddles beneath him. Their size marked the time elapsed since he’d come to his cabin to sit before the table, unmoved and unable to draw his gaze from where it had remained riveted upon the polished wood of the deck. Even a precursory knock at his door nor click of the door latch ere Doughty entered didn’t rouse an acknowledgement from Hornblower.

“Some hot tea, sir.” Came Doughty’s diffident voice, the muted clatter of a tray being set down and a pouring of liquid followed.

A clink of dishware, a spoon being indelicately stirred in a cup to be more precise upon the nature of the sound, came next. It indicated that Doughty had taken the liberty to add sugar to steaming cup… that, or rum, but the part of Honrblower’s brain recognising all this, knew his steward would never presume so much. Especially with the Captain’s misliking of the mind numbing effects of alcohol.

The sound itself had been odd, known was Doughty’s proclivities for decorum and pedantic nature that hearing such a noticeable clink of spoon on teacup had to be his steward’s way of trying to draw his Captain’s attention. Subtle yet distinct enough for Doughty to know it’d work.

For Hornblower had raised his head then, his features equally as sodden as his uniform yet less expressive in the turmoil that’d transpired hardly two hours prior. Rumpled and doused they were, from standing so long on a storm raged deck, whereas his face, albeit pale, held fast to the rigid mask he had set.

He was not to know his brown gaze now held, granted unconscious leave by the privacy of his quarters and with it being only his steward present, a hollowness that usually took root in those bereft. The natural melancholy cast to his countenance was held in a stark highlight by the low, flickering candlelight and the thinly veiled sorrow reflected in those brown eyes of his.

“Won’t you have some, sir?” Doughty set the teacup and saucer off the tray onto the desk in front of Hornblower, taking another liberty it seemed, but not so near enough to appear officious.

“Thank you, Doughty.” It was with a mechanical stiffness that Hornblower accepted the proffering, straightening his posture and reaching out with a pale hand to grasp the delicate teacup to drink from it.

Merely the action and appearance of wellness that was so precariously crafted and adhered to, especially under any scrutiny, and he could feel his steward’s gaze watching him, even as Doughty attempted to busy himself with collecting the tray and its contents to rightness. It wasn’t a task that could occupy him long, too soon it seemed for the obsequious steward, who straightened when finished... '

:) such happiness right ?? xD agdkflflg & there's a bit more to it , that's the main gist.

thank you for sending this in asking after this wip of mine ! <33 i loved being able to talk of this wip , i adore it so & truly need to work on finishing it. i have only to fill the gaps between a few scenes & then edit it & it'll be finished. just trying to get my muse to write those bits has been a hassle.

#theancientvaleofsoulmaking #answered asks #answered #wip updates #wip update #bayze's writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry XXI

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader faces her past.

Note: We’re gonna keep going til this is over...hopefully ;)

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

You looked down the hill on the castle you grew up in. The road behind you didn’t seem as long as that before you, your destination not an hour away. You sat on a rock as Peter paced and muttered under his breath. You closed your eyes and thought of Elina. You knew she was safe with Zemo and that made the distance easier.

Before you left Heinrich’s Creek, you’d held her as long as you could. You kissed her all over and handed her over with tears in your eyes. Zemo promised you would see her again but you knew it was unlikely. He did too and he had never been one to lie for the sake of emotion. It struck you deeply and you kissed him just as desperately.

“So… we walk straight up to the gates and what? Hope for peace?” Peter asked.

You fixed the collar of your tunic and gripped your cane, “we’ll get her back, Peter,” you promised as you pushed yourself up. You were dressed as a man, it made travel easier and the two of you less conspicuous, “you have rope?”

“Rope? Uh, yes, but--”

“We’ll leave my horse up here. May will need it,” you said as you neared him, “get the rope.”

“Why--”

“Peter, we came this far knowing what needs to be done,” your chest stirred with dread though you were consigned to your fate, “tie it around my neck, get up on your horse, and take me down that hill.”

“I--”

“He can’t think I’m here on my own will, he’ll know. You make him think you only want your aunt and you leave with her as quick as you can,” you voice cracked and you inhaled deeply, “I’m doing this for my daughter. So she can live without men like him.”

“You don’t have to die for it. Zemo, he can help--”

“He can’t. Not swift enough to save May,” you shook your head, “we’ve taken long enough to get here. Now tie me up and let us go.”

He looked at you and shuttered. He frowned and went to his saddlebag. He took out the length of rope and you raised your head as he wound it around your neck quietly. He knotted it and you leaned on your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he finished.

“No, you don’t have to be,” you said, “when we get close, if you see him, you yank on me. As hard as you can. Make him think I am as much your captive as she is his.”

“I can’t--”

“Peter, you have to be strong. I won’t have your aunt die for me. Not like your uncle. I lived, he didn’t. I owe you much more than you ever did me,” you uttered, “Now get on your horse.”

He hung his head and nodded. He mounted and wrapped the end of the rope around his hand. He nicked and set off along the path. You stumbled and limped behind him, your cane skidding over the stones and mud. It was well into fall and the land was cold and wet. You were careful on the incline not to slip and saved yourself several times with the wooden stick.

He kept looking back the closer you got to the gates and you hissed for him to keep his eyes forward. He could blow it all after everything. He pushed his shoulders back as he approached the guards at the wall and he stopped just a little away from them. They stood at attention and gripped their pommels.

“Who goes there?” one asked and the men shared a look of recognition before Peter could answer.

“Lord Barnes is awaiting his bounty,” Peter said stonily, “I have her but he must first return what is mine as he swore to.”

“This is her?” The man at the left side of the iron gates asked.

“It’s her, you dolt,” the other interjected, “you remember her, don’t you? And look, she’s all messed up from the horse.”

“Where is Lord Barnes?” Peter insisted.

“Aye, in a moment,” the man clanged on the gate with his mailed elbow, “Oswald, fetch the lord. Tell him Lord Parker has come for the crone.”

You shifted and leaned heavily on your cave. You focused on your breath as it threatened to quicken to panic. You had weeks, months to prepare for him but you could never be ready. You shook and struggled to keep afoot. You knew only cruelty awaited you, even if he did believe your lies.

It was a time before you heard anything more. Peter grew impatient as his horse spat and snorted in kind. At last you heard footsteps and suddenly Peter tugged harshly on the rope. You fell to your knees as he spoke, boots mulching in the mud.

“Lord Barnes, I have your whore,” Peter called out, “Where is my aunt?”

You looked up as you clutched your cane and felt along the rope at your throat. Your eyes met Barnes’ and time seemed to stand still. His hair was even longer than before, his beard too. There were threads of silver through both and his left shoulder was barren of its former attachment.

“You are fortunate I had the patience to wait on you,” Barnes growled, “your aunt is alive… though I cannot say she is happy about it. You give me my woman first and I’ll give you yours.”

Peter hesitated. “How do I know it is not a trick?”

Barnes raised his hand and signaled to some unseen person. There was a creak and more footsteps. May was dragged up in her stained shift, a patched cloak draped crookedly over her shoulders.

“See, she’s all here,” Barnes called, “Now you hand her over and I’ll do the same. Fair trade.”

Peter looked over his shoulder as you stood and you lowered your chin. It was a subtle nod. Do it.

A guard came forward and he bent to hand over the rope as the gate was opened with the crank. You were taken off your feet again as the armored goon wrenched you meanly and laughed.

“I will have you stripped and whipped if you do it again,” Barnes warned as he came forward, his hand on May’s elbow, “give him the old lady.”

He released May as you were led through the gate and as you passed May she glanced at you. Your eyes met and she knew. There was an unspoken and piteous gratitude in her eyes. You hobbled onward and felt fingers closed around your arm. You lifted your head as Barnes grabbed you and pulled the rope slipped from the guard’s grasp.

“Close the gate. Let the boy go,” he demanded.

He said nothing more and turned back and hauled you with him. His hand slid from your arm and followed the length of the rope as he wounded it around his knuckles. You barely kept up with him as your cane bounced off the ground and you walked unevenly beside him. His silence was unsettling.

You passed through the wide doors of the castle and he huffed as you staggered across the stone. He spun you suddenly and kicked your cane out from under you. The stick rolled away from you and he bent to scoop you up over his shoulder, the rope straining at your neck.

“You won’t be walking much,” he snarled as he set off up the stairs.

You quivered and grasped at the back of his tunic. His hand held your thigh firmly and he squeezed, as if making certain you were real. The fear bubbled in your chest and all your plans fell to the floor like your cane had.

He swept into his room and kicked the door closed. He tossed you down on the bed as he let the rope free and you bounced violently on the feather mattress. He was quick to follow and straddled you under him. His hand roughly felt along your cheek and lips, lingering on your scar as he stared at you.

“I thought…” he rasped as his eyes bore into you, “did you laugh to think of me mourning you?”

“No, my lord, I…” you croaked. You were that girl again, that maid, terrified. “I never--”

“I cried for you,” he sneered, “I buried you!”

“My lord,” you grabbed his wrist as his fingers stretched across the rope, “please--”

“Did he make a good whore of you? Huh? Did you prefer him to me?”

“He took me against my will. I was not aware even that he did until it was too late--”

“I know,” he hissed as he leaned over you, his hot breath scoured your skin, “I know about our child.”

“I…” you shook your head, “I-- I--”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t--”

“You know!” he shouted, “you know!”

“I don’t. Zemo… he fled when Peter got hold of me. Like the coward you know him to be--”

“Stop lying--”

“I am not lying, I swear it, my lord,” you pleaded, “you have me. You don’t need the child.”

“It is my child,” he barked, “mine. You would keep her from me as you kept yourself.”

“No, I cannot-- I didn’t run. He took me. I never asked for it--”

“You will tell me where they are,” he backed off of you and grabbed the loose end of the rope again.

He flipped you and moved your hands to the middle of your back. He snapped at you not to move as he looped the rope around your wrists and struggled with one hand to pull it tight. He tested it with a violent tug that jolted your entire body. His fingers hooked into the back of your breeches and he ripped them down.

You yelped as he struck you with his hand. You kicked out and tried to stand. He pushed you back down with his foot and smacked your ass again.

“Stay,” he bid as he moved around behind you, “stay or it will only be worse… but I suppose it must be before you tell me.”

You twined your fingers together and pushed your head into the mattress as you braced yourself. You listened to him behind you and as he walked across the room. He opened the door and called to someone. You did not hear his orders, only the feet that shuffled to do as he wished.

He waited until they returned and the door closed heavily. There was a tap, tap, tap, as he neared you and you looked down past your shoulder at the sparkling head of your cane. He lifted it in his hand and rested it against your ass.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon when I said we would not need this,” he said.

He pulled back the cane and brought the wood down with a crack across your rear. You scream at the agony it sent up your spine. He did it again and your legs flailed helplessly.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you sobbed.

He struck you once more and asked the same question. You gave the same answer. The same thing, over and over. At least a dozen before he stilled. He brushed the wood against your bare skin and bent over you.

“I could have loved you. I wanted to,” he said, “we could have loved the child, too. Children… we could’ve had a whole litter.” He poked your ass with the cane as he stood straight and grazed between your legs with a hum, “Gods, we could just try for another right now.”

You closed your eyes and bit down. He withdrew the wood once more and his boot scuffed over the stone. He took a deep breath and let it out.

“In due time,” he said as he hit you again, “where the fuck is my child?”

You wept into the bedcover and thought of Elina. Thought of her in Zemo’s arms, the way she pulled his beard, and the way he smiled back at her, at you. You couldn’t tell him where they were if you wanted to. You never would. And if you suffered for it, Barnes would only suffer more. He would never know the only good piece of him to remain in the world.

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Moving day

Based on @lucywrites02's writing challenge, with the prompts "1. You're family" and "8. I have a surprise for you". I wish you a very happy birthday, Lucy!

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (Tony Stark's daughter, not Morgan)

Word count: 3.2 K

Warnings: fluff and pregnancy :) This was very adorable to write.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87,@jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88, @enderslove

Gif: @moonrainbow

It had surprised Thor greatly how quickly and intensely his brother had fallen for you. He was as committed and truthful as he has never been in his long, long life. He looked at you softly, in comparison with everyone else. As soon as you walked in a room, he followed you with his gaze and invited you to his conversation. It wasn’t a surprise that after a few months of this very silent flirting (that very few noticed, because it mainly consisted in batting eyelashes and repressing subtle smiles when the other was around) you’d come out of the shell and admit you started dating. Thor was ecstatic.

Tony, on the other hand, was not amused. Not amused at all; in fact, he hated the idea of you going around with that God. He said, explicitly “if you ever get in trouble because of him, you solve it yourself. Nothing of coming for daddy to help, clear?”. Pepper had told him to cut some slack, and observe at how happy you were together, but he, stubborn to the bone, had to take a few months more before accepting the fact that his little girl was in love with the God of Mischief.

But the months passed by; almost a year, and you grew closer and closer. You hated to sneak into his room every night, and get interrupted all the time by every single soul in the compound, or mocked to death every time you cuddled on the sofa, watched a movie or read a book together. So, it all boiled down to the same conversation:

“I don’t think he’s ready”, you said while pouring some milk on your cereal. Nat rolled her eyes.

“He’s even readier than you”, insisted Wanda. They were exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do something about it. “He’s lived much longer, if any of you two were to be unready, that’d be you”.

“Do you think I’m not ready?”, you doubted yourself.

“God, Wanda. You’re planting unnecessary seeds here. The girl’s already anxious enough”.

“I just think… I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know if he feels the same”.

“He totally does”.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. Just look at how he looks at you. What are you even waiting for?”.

“I don’t know, a signal?”.

“Of what? You’re impossible. Unless God themself comes down the sky and tells you textually just move in with him, you wouldn’t consider it a ‘signal’”, bitched Nat. But she was right. Commitment was not exactly your thing, even though you were as in love as you could be.

You heard an oncoming scream approaching the room. In silence, you three observed cautiously, and moved away from the middle. The screaming increased its loudness, until a body shattered the roof and fell to the floor violently. Loki laid still among the dusted debris until a second screaming started sounding from the sky.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, managing to get up quickly and making himself as a shield for you three. Thor landed on his feet over the same spot Loki had fallen. Dust flew everywhere and the floor cracked a bit more. “Don’t”, he alerted, pointing at his brother menacingly.

“I’m tired of your whinings, brother. Do something or I’ll do it myself”, spat Thor, grabbing Mjölnir and leaving the room. Loki sighed and sat on the couch, cleaning the remains with his magic. Wanda sighed and put it all back together.

“And what was that about?”, asked Nat, eating a candybar, still on the same spot as earlier. It wasn’t an unusual scene.

“I…”, said Loki, but desisted. You sat on the couch by his side and he laid, using your lap as a pillow. You took out a tissue and started carefully cleaning the blood off his cuts. He smiled softly. “We just had a fight”.

“I can see that. What did you fight about?”.

“He wants me to… well, talk to you”, he struggled to say.

“Well, we’re talking now”.

“Yes. No, wait, no. Like, talk talk”, he clarified, and Nat and Wanda nodded, leaving the room. You could still hear their chattery from the door.

Loki sat up and grabbed both of your hands, making direct eye contact. He was nervous, which only made you even more unsettled. He was never nervous. He was always calm, even in life or death situations. He was unfazed in everything and with almost everyone. Almost.

“What do you want to talk talk about?”, you joked, and he chuckled, releasing some tension.

“I want you to move in with me”.

“Oh. Wait. What?”.

“Like, move out. But with me”.

“To your room?”.

“Out of the Compound”.

“To an apartment?”.

“Yes”.

“Here?”.

“In Midgard, yes”.

“But like, in New York?”.

“Wherever you want, actually”.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and Loki grew nervous again. You couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… a God just fell down the sky and told me to move in with you”, you clarified, which didn’t actually clarify anything.

“You… what?”.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, love”.

And in no time you were already packing things up and going together on apartment huntings.

Tony insisted on helping you out himself, which was hilarious, given the repulsion he had for the idea in the first place. So, you’d go to an apartment by yourself, check it out and talk to the owner for a bit; Loki would arrive later, tensing things up (the owners would usually recognize him, but after a little chat they’d find out he’s a fine man), and then, just after you’d be all calm and good, the owners would see in the papers you’re a Stark, and tense up even more. Easier to say, it wasn’t a normal neighborhood chat.

You had finally decided on a small but very cozy apartment near Central Park; far enough from the Stark Tower, but you could get there pretty quickly for every mission.

You found the place advertised on the papers, and when you showed it to Loki, in sickness and all, you insisted on going to visit it that same day.

“My love, my dearest… you need to rest. I’m afraid you might faint again”, he cooed, trying to get you back to bed.

“A little fever won’t do anything to me, really, I’m f…”, you said, but you felt like vomiting, so you stopped your words and sat on the floor. Loki sat by your side and rubbed your back.

“If you feel better tomorrow, we go, yes? Now, come on, I’m gonna call Banner and you wait on your bed”.

“No, but they might take it, we need to go to make sure…”.

“What about I go, call you on one of those animated images, and you can see it from here?”, he proposed, helping you up. He meant a video call.

“That… sounds about right”.

But you had no actual time to have that video call, for when he was in the apartment, Banner was delivering some more important news.

You’ve been to the examination’s room of the compound before. But this time it seemed brighter. The lights shone so strongly, you had to close your eyes a little.

“What would you like to do about it?”, asked Banner. You were sobbing and trembling.

“I… I don’t know, I’m sure Loki will leave me”.

“What? No, don’t base your decision on that guy’s opinion”.

“Well, I don’t want the kid to not have a father, you know?”, you said as he gave you a tissue. “I want to have it, I’ve always wanted a kid. I think I’m… ready? I’m probably not. Not by myself, and I can’t do this alone. He’ll leave me, won’t he? Why would he want to have a kid with a mortal? We’d die as fast as he blinks”.

“Look, I’m no one to talk about it, but this sounds more like your anxiety and less like something he would do. He really loves you, he has for like at least a year, and I don’t see that going away anytime soon”.

“I know. You might be right”.

“You’re allowed to doubt everything. This is a huge thing, y/n. Think this through, talk to people, talk to your friends, or your parents. Don’t let this eat you”.

“Thanks, Bruce. You’re really… you’re being really nice, I appreciate it”, you sobbed. He handed you another tissue as he rubbed your shoulder.

“This is your call, okay? You have time to think. Text me later how you’re feeling, and have bed rest now. And if you feel too bad, take this”, he handed you some pills, “it should be innocuous for the baby”.

One of those days, that same week, you had decided to make it the official moving day. So, you put every box in the van and drove through the city, to your new home. You haven’t told Loki yet what you knew, and you were terrified he’d get even more upset because you didn’t tell him before the moving. But, to be fair, you didn’t think he’d actually leave.

You had told no one about it, despite Banner’s indications. But it wasn’t eating you. You were enjoying it silently. You were glad; you had your doubts, fears… Hell, you were terrified. But you knew, if Loki wasn’t going to be a part of that, you could do it yourself. You hoped he’d wanted to, though.

Loki and you had started taking the boxes inside, all by hand (to be honest, he was a little scared of the neighbours watching him do things with magic and kicking you two out). You laughed through it, and played races to see who’d finish their boxes first. He was wearing one of those midgardians shirts and pants that melted you completely. He wore that for your anniversary dinner the week before that day, and he noticed how much you loved it on him, so he started wearing fancy casual clothes more often than not.

After about two hours, you were done and completely exhausted. You laid in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes and a strong smell of floorwax and fresh paint, and looked at each other fondly.

“Welcome home”, you said, and he showed you the biggest smile he’s ever done.

“I think this place is perfect. It’s away, but not exactly far from your family for whenever you’d want to be with them”.

“Yes, it’s perfect”, you said, getting up and helping him up. “You know, I have a surprise for you”.

“Really? What is it?”.

“Tonight at dinner, shall we? In the meantime, what about we get something to drink before unpacking?”.

“Can’t wait for tonight, then. Would you like some tea?”, he said, surrounding your waist with his arms. You played gently with his hair.

“Yes”.

“I love you”, he said, giving you a small peck over your smile.

“And I love…”, you started saying, but the entrance got filled with noisy people, interrupting you. Four of your friends were already filling the place, giving you an idea of how a small party would fit in there. “... you”.

“Oh my God! This place is so well illuminated!”, said Wanda, marveled.

“And what’s that smell? Have you been cooking something weird?”, said Nat, less enthusiastic, but equally curious. Sam and Bucky were still on the door, and Sam seemed to have brought food. Like a cake, or something similar. Wanda and Natasha were quick to invade the place without further notice.

“Oh, you got one of those hidden drawers! What are you hiding in there?”.

“Probably sex toys”, guessed Nat.

“I’d say drugs. But, like, alien drugs. You know, from his town”, apported Bucky, now making his way in and leaving the cake over the counter.

“I thought drawers were supposed to be for clothes”, said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but hidden drawers? Sexy clothes”.

“Actually, I’m saving my daggers in there”, finally said Loki, kissing your cheek before pulling away from you, and appearing a cup of tea in each guest with a movement of his wrist.

“Boring”.

“So, guys, what do you think?”, you said as you started opening one of the boxes.

“I think it’s small”, said Tony, as he walked in. Pepper rolled her eyes behind him.

“Don’t listen to him, you guys chose perfectly. This place will look very nice once you paint it and decorate it”.

“It’s already painted”.

“Oh. Well, it… it looks nice”.

“Thanks mom”, you chuckled. “It’s small but we don’t need it to be big”.

“You better be actually saving daggers in here”, Tony peeped inside the hidden drawer. “Now that is not so hidden. I wouldn’t like to open it up someday and find a…”.

“Dad, please”, you rolled your eyes and went to Loki’s side. “Don’t worry, you won’t find anything weird. Just the daggers and knives of my very innocent boyfriend”.

“Well, you’ll have to think further about having knives so close to the floor, you know”, he muttered. Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”.

Tony ignored him and walked to you earnestly, with the most serious face expression you’ve ever seen, and everyone observed quietly. He grabbed you by the shoulders, and inhaled a deep breath. All of the sudden, his eyes got watery, and you realized Banner had told him about the pregnancy. Your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint again, right there. The corners of his lips formed a tiny smile, and he hugged you tightly. Loki was certainly confused now. As far as he knew, Tony didn’t like him, and why would he be so happy about you moving out? It’s not like you were his only child, either.

“I’m so proud of you”, he whispered, and then Loki had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the new apartment, but didn’t ask any further.

That night you managed to cook something special, even though you still hadn’t gotten the gas installed. You cooked together, and laughed at every minor inconvenience the house could give you. The doors of the countertop cabinets were the perfect height for Loki’s 6’4” ass to stump his head every time he tried to open it.

After some time of silent cooking, absorbed on each’s thoughts, Loki asked about your dad’s pride.

“Oh, he’s… well, he just, gets very emotional with these things”. He chuckled at your very obvious lie.

“No, he doesn’t. Certainly not with me”.

“Come on, he likes you now. He likes anyone I love, because you make me happy, and because he has no other choice”.

“Well… I thought he’d be less amused”, he admitted. “Hasn’t he? Other choice, I mean”.

“I don’t think so. He’d have to deal. Family is family”.

“Oh, do I know about that”, he said, cutting a carrot more strongly than before. You laughed.

“I meant it in a good way”.

“Well, your family is one thing, mine is another… I can’t push yours to like me, as much as I would like to. They’re very nice, and I wish I had a family like that, but I don’t”.

“Love, family is built”, you said, this time a little more serious. He repressed a smile, still looking at the vegetables. “You’re part of this, too, you know?”.

“Of this?”.

“You’re family”.

He didn’t repress the smile this time.

“You’re right. You’re my family, too, my love”.

“You…”, you took a deep breath. It was the perfect moment. “Do you ever imagine us in the future?”.

“Why yes, of course”.

“Really?”.

“I want to spend all your life with you. I didn’t want to rush into things because… I don’t know, scaring you out of anything, but I…”, he said, and the alarm on your phone went off, to take the rice from the fridge. You two laughed at how mundane this conversation seemed. “But I love you, and I want you by my side”.

“Okay. Well I do too. That’s good, right? That’s good”.

“Yes, of course it’s good, why so doubtful?”, he laughed, grabbing a tomato and stabbing it.

“Because I’m pregnant”.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, without actually realizing what you just said. And then, he fell. “Hold on, what did you just say?”.

“I’m… I’m having a baby. Yours, of course”, you clarified. You felt like you had to, but it wasn’t actually necessary. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh dear” he paused. He left the knife over the counter and looked at you, looking for any trace of a joke. You weren’t joking, and you grew nervous as he let time pass by without saying a word. “How could you not tell me this before moving in?”, he muttered, still in a bit of a shock.

“Oh. Well… I…”.

“I wouldn’t have let you carry those heavy boxes, love, I’m so sorry”, he said, and cupped your cheeks. “Are you really…?”. You sighed in relief. For a moment you thought of the worse.

“Yes, I am”.

His arms embraced you completely, hugging you as tight as he allowed himself to. He muttered how much he loved you, and how happy you had just made him, for the rest of his life.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, he cuddled you from behind with his hands on your tummy and his lips on your bare shoulder. You could feel his soft breathing grazing your skin, and his warmth keeping you safe.

“Loki”, you whispered, checking if he was still awake. You couldn’t sleep.

“Yes, love?”, he whispered back.

“Are you sure you want to be a daddy? With me?”.

He turned you around, and lowered his head to your abdomen. He sank his face and kissed all around your stomach and hips, leaving a trace of kisses up to your neck, and then your lips.

“How could I not?”, he whispered in a low voice. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, teased “besides, the word daddy comes out so well from your lips”.

You laughed softly, and after some more silence that was fairly filled with loving stares, a thought crossed his head and you saw the light of his eyes turn to dark.

“What is it, love?”, you put a strand of his hair behind an ear.

“I… I’m just realizing something bad”, he said, and you nodded. “I’m a Frost Giant”.

“Why is it bad?”.

“My actual form is bigger than this. And… colder. And if the baby were Jötun too...”.

“You think the baby might hurt me?”.

“They might. I don’t know. Oh no, what if they hurts you?”, he began to panic, and you shushed him, kissing his temples.

“Don’t worry, Lokes. If that’s the case, we’ll figure it out”, you reassured him. “And maybe it’s not. And we’ll have a little and very healthy half-Jötun running around this small apartment. When have we not solved our issues? We’re good at that bit”.

“You’re right. You’re right, my dear”. He sighed, and then chuckled. “Should we have gotten a bigger place?”.

“We’ll be a very close family”, you laughed.

“We already are”, he whispered, cuddling back to you. “We are a very close family”.

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki odinson #loki fic #lucywrites19 #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x y/n stark

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beevean · 3 years

Text

The ARK, and consolidating Shadow’s corruption

What’s this? I still have Things to Say about ShTH levels nobody cares about? Yes, it’s not my fault this game has gallons of untapped potential :)

I planned to write only one last post, but since it turned out a little too long, I thought it was better to split in two parts. This one is a little shorter than the others, and it’s about Shadow’s trip to his old home with his dad. Fun, right?

The ARK is the darkest 5th stage in the map, and you can reach it in two ways: either Shadow detonated Black Doom’s giant bombs in Central City, destroying at least part of it, or Black Doom succesfully corrupted Shadow enough to let him experience a false memory in which he killed every G.U.N. soldier during the famous raid on the ARK.

Obviously, both of these events are nothing short of a Moral Event Horizon. Either Shadow is a full-fledged terrorist, or he succumbed to Black Doom’s violent brainwashing to the point that he can no longer trust his own thoughts. In any case, if you reach this point, it’s too late for him to redeem himself.

Look at him, he’s out for blood. Even Black Doom is happy that Shadow has “finally come to realize just how abominable these humans are”. And personally, I find the music that starts playing when the cutscene focuses on Shadow’s hatred-filled eyes a little unsettling, as if it’s saying “This is not Shadow anymore. Who is this monster?”.

Much like its mirror counterpart Lost Impact, The ARK has an unbalanced set of missions, only Neutral and Dark. It again emphasizes how Shadow can’t turn “good” anymore; but it also conveys how alone Shadow is now. He has rejected the help of many of his friends and, depending on the route, committed unspeakable crimes: his only ally in the world is the manipulative Black Doom, from which he cannot escape anymore.

There’s actually not much to talk about the level itself: for being the second-to-last stage in a path, it’s incredibly easy, as you literally fly your way through shooting at your targets with the Black Volt. Either you destroy 4 defense systems to allow the Black Arms to get to the Eclipse Cannon, or you… don’t. It’s a needed breather between what came before and what comes next, but it’s a shame that it’s so easygoing considering the heartwrenching context of Shadow violating his old home under Black Doom’s orders.

On that note, the music is worth talking about:

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It’s a very catchy remix, the only contribution to the soundtrack from Tomoya Ohtani no less, of Sonic Adventure 2′s Final Rush.

What’s the significance? I think it’s pure irony. Final Rush is the last stage of the Hero Story in SA2, where Sonic has to make a mad dash to prevent the Eclipse Cannon from firing. In ShTH, you return to the same location (with a very similar level design if you bother getting off the Black Volt), but as a villain with plans to fire it again. If you played SA2 before, revisiting a beloved level in this situation just rubs salt into the wounds.

Anyway, much like Lost Impact, what’s really interesting is the endings both missions send you to.

You can suddenly tell Black Doom “nah i can’t be bothered with opening the way for you, cya” and fly to the Goal Ring in 2 minutes or so. Shadow’s musing at the end of the mission implies he’s simply filled with nostalgia for “where it all began”. The big man is strangely okay with this, even though he doesn’t get to use the Eclipse Cannon: he can still threaten humanity, and with reason. He also still trusts Shadow enough to ask him for help with G.U.N. raiding the Black Comet. (It makes me think he didn’t really need the Cannon, he was just being petty.)

Believe it or not, this is the path you have to take if you want to see Shadow becoming Black Doom’s servant: dispatch 50 of the G.U.N. mechs on the Comet, and Shadow will find his place to the right side of the alien lord.

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It’s actually creepy how easily Shadow vows loyalty to Black Doom and forgets everything about finding his own identity, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of existence he’ll live with him.

(small comparison: in the Japanese version, he says “My name is Shadow the Hedgehog… The strongest soldier, chosen by the ruler of darkness, Black Doom! Together with him, using this wondrous power, I shall dye the ugly world in black!”. Not only Shadow sounds less servile, but there are several paths that lead to this ending named after the concept of “dyeing in black” and especially being a “soldier”. A clear case of lost in translation, but the English version isn’t bad, so I’ll let it pass)

(and before you ask, I hate the Semi Dark-Hero ending so I refuse to spend more time thinking about it than the writers did, which is “they didn’t”)

But let’s back up a bit. What if Shadow is a good obedient tool and destroys the 4 defense systems instead? In that case, after murdering the poor pilot of the Blue Falcon, he gets a front row seat to watching Central City crumble under the Eclipse cannon.

And then he goes to the last stronghold humanity has left, where he loses what little sanity he had left.

The second part of this post will be about my favorite stage in ShTH. See you then as I try to convey how horribly well-written the evil endings are :)

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #shth #shadow the hedgehog (2005)#long post #black doom #the ark #i actually like the concept of this level #flying over the ark as it's collapsing #it's unique

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corpsedaydream · 3 years

Text

crash

so, here i am with a new one shot.

so before anyone asks if i’m gonna be posting frequently again or anything, i process things by writing about them. if something is running through my mind over and over and i can’t think through it on my own in my mind, writing about it generally helps me. this past weekend was supposed to be a fun long weekend away w my friends but it quickly ended when i experienced something pretty traumatic. i haven’t been able to sleep at all the past couple nights and so i started working on this. originally it was just going to be something private to help myself w the panic i was feeling then i started adding a muse into it and then i realised i was still writing about corpse without even meaning to, so i guess he’s still got me feeling musey.

anyway, i thought about keeping this private bc i’m still rly shaken up about what happened but idk feels like a shame to just let it sit on my computer.

idk if i’m back to this blog yet, i still feel indifferent about it. i’m signed out on my phone and was signed out on my laptop until just now and haven’t opened my inbox.

anyway. here’s the one shot.

word count: 1666 words (i’m not kidding)

trigger warning: car crash, panic attack

__________________________________________________

crash

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up.

The words repeated over and over in your head. You’d had dreams about crashing your car before, but usually you woke up just before the point of impact. This time you didn’t.

This couldn’t of happened, this can’t be real, this is a a dream, I’ve got to wake up.

But you were already very much awake, this was very much real.

The colour had already drained from your face, tears were welling up in your eyes and your heart had already sunk. Your hands were trembling, your chest was completely still, you weren’t breathing in that moment. Your body had reacted before your mind had completely caught up.

“Fuck.” Was all you managed to say as realisation had hit you. You’d gotten into a car crash.

You looked around you, wondering how the others cars on the road were still moving when it felt like your world had just come to a stop when your car had its collision. You heard your dad’s voice in your head, all the things he’d told you when he taught you how to drive, had - god forbid - you ever ended up in a situation like this.

You went through the motions as well as you could. You were in a state of shock and physically, you were definitely there, but mentally, you really weren’t present. You were having an out of body feeling in the most terrifying way, it was a defence from the panic that had overwhelmed you.

Corpse felt a surge of anxiety. He had no idea why, either. All he was doing was looking through fan art on twitter, he hadn’t seen anything that usually would make him feel like that. It just throttled its way into himself seemingly out of no where.

It was especially odd seeing that today had been such a good day. Waking up beside was usually something that put him in a good head space.

So he started to call you, you always made him feel better. But then he remembered you were driving and you were a cautious driver, you never answered your phone when you were behind the wheel. You’d told him in the past how tenacious your dad had been as a driving teacher and it had really stuck with you.

Just as he was about to hang up, knowing you weren’t going to answer, you did.

“Hello?” Something was off. Corpse heard it right away in just that one greeting from you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even greet you back, he already had anxiety running through him and the unsettling tone of your answer of the phone had only made it increase.

“I think so.” You were so monotoned. Corpse had never heard you speak this way. You were a lot of things, but monotone was not one. You were expressive, bright and dramatic.

“You think so?” He repeated in a questioning way, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Yeah.” You responded so plainly again. Corpse almost wanted to ask you who was he speaking to right now, because surely this couldn’t have been you. This person had your voice, but this was a person he did not know right now.

“What’s going on?”

“I crashed my car.” You said it to him so simply. There was no emotion behind it. His heart thundered as if a terrible hail storm had just broken out.

“What?!”

“I crashed my car.” You repeated. Once again so eerily unemotional.

“Where are you?!”

Corpse shouldn’t have been driving in the state he was in, but he needed to get to you. His emotions were running so high and he couldn’t comprehend why yours weren’t.

After what felt like the longest drive of his life, he reached the crash site. His panic peaked when he spotted the ambulance, immediately thinking the worst. But then he saw you standing to the side of it. You were up and talking to the paramedics, that was at least a good sign you weren’t seriously injured.

“(Y/N),” He called for you as he got out of his own car. And just like your voice on the phone, your movements were so robotic.

You were normally so open with your emotions, you were such a readable and honest person. When you were happy, you shined, when you were mad, you yelled red, when you were sad, you cried oceans. But Corpse had never seen you in a true state of shock. He’d never seen your fight or flight response. And apparently it was a stillness and unresponsive, the complete opposite to how you were normally.

“Are you okay?” He knew you probably weren’t, but he couldn’t find any clue to how you were feeling. Until his footsteps brought him closer to you.

You didn’t respond to him at all. Even words felt like too much right now. As he neared you, though, he spotted the signs of fear your body displayed that your words did not. Your hands and arms were trembling, your shoulders were slumped, your face was completely pale, sweat dotted all over your forehead despite it not being a hot day, tears were slowly spilling from your eyes one by one, your chest was moving unevenly as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Baby, c’mere.” Corpse didn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. Holding you so tenderly against him. That’s when he felt that it was more than just your arms and hands that were trembling, your entire body had a slight shake to it. He knew you were experiencing true terror in that moment.

The time between your banged up car getting placed onto a tow truck and arriving back at your apartment felt like a blur.

You’d just gotten off the phone with your insurance provider when you’d heard Corpse.

“Are you in any pain?”

"What?” You’d heard him perfectly but you hadn’t once thought about how this had affected you physically.

“Are you in any pain?” He repeated himself.

“I’m not sure.” And you weren’t, but the paramedics had said that adrenaline would be coursing through you right now and adrenaline was the biggest distraction from pain. “I’m gonna go have a shower.”

“Okay.” Corpse watched you with concerned eyes until you disappeared behind your bathroom door. He so badly wanted to help, wanted to make you feel better, break you out of this state you were in that he was so not used to.

You didn’t know how much time you’d spent in the shower. But it was long enough that the sky had grown darker and the moon had replaced the sun by the time you emerged. Once you’d gotten dressed, you made slow steps towards your bedroom. Your hands were trembling more violently than before and your breathing was speeding up.

The shock was finally wearing off and reality was getting ready to slap you hard across the face.

“Corpse...” Your voice was so silent, almost as if you couldn’t form a word due to the air that seemed harder and harder to breathe as a panic attack started to take control of you.

Corpse might not have even heard you had he not been on such high alert for you right now. But he was, and so he did he hear you and when he saw the state you were in, he instantly got up from his spot on your bed where he was waiting for you and was wrapping you up tight.

You were hyperventilating so dangerously, your heart felt like it was being encased in treacherous clouds that tightened with every intake of air you struggled to get.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this way. You were breaking down.

Corpse was completely holding you up. Had it not been for him, you would be a crumbled heap on the floor.

The both of you didn’t sleep that night.

Every time you were close to drifting off, the crash would replay in your mind on an insufferable loop and you would jolt awake and the panic would restart all over.

And every time, Corpse was right there to hold you through it. He didn’t sleep due to how concerned he was about you.

The next day was a little easier mentally, but a lot harder physically. You’d gotten so much emotion out the night before that now the pain could have your attention.

Everything from your hips up felt sore, stiff and tense. Every time you moved your neck was scary because it felt like it was about to snap. But worst of all was your chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. The paramedics had warned you about this. The impact to your chest was going to take the longest to recover from. You kept your breathing shallow, any other kind of breathing made you wince and Corpse noticed.

“You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating what he noticed. He’d known the signs of someone in pain. Plus he had also taken note of the bruises that had appeared on your skin, the colouring of them looking like a painting of a galaxy, all purple and blue.

“A little bit.”

“Mhm.” He knew it was more than a little bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with you. He looked over you laying beside him, grateful that you were still here, you were alive. A car could be replaced, but you could not.

You were flat on your back because that was really only the current position that felt even the tiniest bit comfortable right now. Corpse was on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he leaned over you. His other hand began to soothingly run his fingers through your hair and you let your eyes flutter close at the touch.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled back, keeping your eyes shut and feeling exhaustion take over you.

“Try sleeping, baby. I’ll be right here.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #writing #mine

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herherteartear · 3 years

Text

blanket kick

précis— Peter's not the suave man he would hope to be in front of his crush. instead, he's a blushing mess that haunts his memories and causes him to take out his frustrations on his blanket. luckily, you prefer cherry cheeks over smooth lines any day.

pairing— Peter Parker x enhanced!maximoff!reader

a/n— this is my first standalone written story and my first time writing for marvel! i hope you guys enjoy thisss<3 i'm also open to creating drabbles to continue this if anyone's interested????! pls enjoy and pls comment and let me know ur thoughts!!!

there are many ways to describe Peter Parker, but none could ever wholly capture the true essence of the boy

besides the obvious stuff,, his intelligence , his insanely good looks , his teenage awkwardness,,

it was a hard feat to string along words to describe the way he carries himself , the way he is with others , the way his heart loves with the same ability a sponge soaks up water and soap

Peter's had crushes before

perhaps more than he'd like to admit

(can't blame the boy, who gave Ty Lee the right be that cute!?)

but when he sees her, his heart begins to swell and suddenly, he forgets how to breathe..

or how to think... talk. y'know normal human stuff

in all honesty, Peter has tried his absolute hardest to block out their first meeting from his memories

he doesn't regret meeting her, of course not! never would he even repent that embarrassingly wonderful day

he only wishes it would've gone a little differently

let's set the scene, shall we?

the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a Carolina blue, the clouds were the prettiest porcelain color, rimmed with lace

Peter was riding in an awfully silent car that Happy was driving to the airport. despite being terrified of what's to come,, the fight Mr. Stark had recruited him for,, the boy was thoroughly enjoying this adventure.

the car came to a stop, which did little for Peter's nerves. he gathered his courage before stepping out, eyes squinting at the brightness of the yellow sun. once his eyes adjusted, they landed on the prettiest head of hair he had ever seen

(although he did think the same for Hermione Granger)

Peter had never been on a plane before that day. but even then, his sparkling eyes stayed trained on her,, completely ignoring the brilliant private jet behind her

"oh? Happy, i thought it was just us?" her voice made Peter's ears burn. he swallowed thickly. you blinked at Peter, curious but also intrigued , you smiled.

to which Peter choked. on air. your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"a-are you okay?"

"god, kid, get ahold of yourself."

"i-i'm okay! it's– i'm– i'm fine!" Peter quickly stuttered out.

"well, Yn, this is– uh,, what's your name again?" Happy turned towards the boy who's cheeks were now redder than a firetruck.

"oh! i'm Peter– Peter Parker. it's nice to meet you- not that i don't know you. well i don't, y'know not personally. but like from the news.. not that i believe the news! they're awful to you, but i mean i guess i do sometimes– but never about what they say about you–"

"i'm Yn Maximoff. it's nice to meet you too, Peter." you cut him off before Happy strangled the cute boy. you had an amused smile

he was cute

finally getting on the plane, Peter had hoped he would be able to sit far away from you and wallow in his embarrassment,

maybe sneak a glance or two.. imagine a couple of scenarios where he wasn't a doofus,

but that's not quite what happened.

after witnessing just how much the new kids was able to ramble,, Happy was not about to spend a whole ass plane ride remotely close to him

so he took it upon himself to make the kiddies sit together.. much to Peter's dismay.

like!!? did Happy not see how Peter crashed and burned in font of you?!

you, on the other hand,, had the opposite reaction.

being the youngest avenger, you don't get to be around people your age too much,, which isn't something you're complaining about!!

you totally made the decision to be an avenger and you happily welcomed the consequences..

that didn't mean you didn't get lonely at times. especially now with the accords and the team breaking up., things got a whole lot more lonely

your sister, Wanda, had made her choice to leave the compound. you completely understood why, but a part of you had hoped she would've taken you with her

although, staying at the compound did ensure your safety.

it was a weird time for the avenger's , it felt wrong for you to say some of your teammates were criminals

it left a sour taste in your mouth

you glanced from the window seat to see Peter nervously wringing his fingers. you frowned.

"are you okay?" you asked, gently. Peter's eyes widened and his heart jumped to his throat. he wanted to say something, something cool or aloof, something that would make up for his ranting earlier

"i've never been on a plane before." Peter squeaked out. he dropped his shoulders, rolling his eyes at himself. that was the highest pitch he had ever heard his voice. you took in his clearly anxious posture.

"lets switch seats? maybe looking out the window will help you." you stated. before Peter could quickly shake his head, because how rude would it be of him to take your seat?, you were already stood up.

"oh god!" Peter breathed. he quickly shifted over to the seat you once occupied. he wanted to put up more of a fight, but the way you were swaying due to the turbulence, made his palms sweat in fear for your safety.

"you, like, swing from buildings and stuff, right?" you asked. he turned to you with a nod. "are you afraid of heights? or do you just not like planes?"

oh god. oh. no. you thought– you thought he was scared of being on the plane. Peter wanted to shrink in a hole and hide. you probably thought he was such a baby! that he could handle swinging from hundreds of feet in the air, but a plane is where he drew the line?

but what else is he supposed to say? 'oh, no! it's not the plane I'm scared of. it's just your beautiful smile and the way you smell like cocoa that gets me sweating'

wtf.

that was so wrong in so many ways.

"um, no, no. i'm okay, just– just a little nervous, is all." Peter tried to force out a chuckle. but it come out more like a cough. you mouth formed an 'o.'

"ohh, okay." you paused before your eyes lit up. "how about we play a game? to distract you?"

"o– okay.."

"can you talk with spiders?" Peter lifted his eyes from looking at his hands hovering above yours,; he let out a much more relaxed laugh than earlier.

you took advantage of his distraction to swiftly bring your palm from underneath his and slap the top of Peter's hand. he jumped.

"ouch!" he playfully pouted. you eyes glanced down at his lips. you giggled nervously. your hand went to hover over his, him now being the one to do the slapping. "of course i can't talk to spiders! i– i feel like i should probably be able to shape-shift into a spider in order for that to happen, y'know?"

you nodded thoughtfully. "that's true.. you didn't hear this from me, but i heard there's an Ant-Man going around." Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

"no way! that's crazy! does he like turn into an ant?" you bumped his hand with yours in order to get his attention back to the game. his hand burned at the feeling

"i don't know-" you said in a singsong tone. "it's just what's being said around the compound." you quickly slid your hands to avoid Peter's attack. he huffed.

"how are you so good at this?" he knitted his eyebrows to focus on how to attack quickly without hurting you.

"it's a game i used to play with my brother and sister." you answered. Peter finally took his chance to slap your hands, to which you squealed excitedly as you had tried to move in time. Peter and you fell into a fit of giggles.

you both leaned against your seats, still facing each other. your hands fell on top of Peter's.

the brown haired boy quickly slid his hand out from under yours, not because he didn't enjoy the contact, but because he was worried you'd feel how clammy his hands were

you frowned slightly at the loss of contact.

"a– are we really fighting your sister?" Peter wondered out loud, without a second thought.

you shifted uncomfortably. Peter quickly noticed; his heart sped up and he mentally scolded himself for being so inconsiderate.

"not because i think she's evil! i mean,, i know that's what the news says.. but they also think Spider-Man's like thirty. and i'm not thirty! its just everything's crazy right now.. with the accords., i can't even imagine how you're feeling! probably terrible.. oh, g od wait, not terrible, i'm s–"

you had been watching with an endearing look in your eye. you had come to find that you enjoy watching Peter ramble.

his eyes would become unsettled and shaky, his body would begin to become more and more animated, but his voice

gosh, his voice was something you wanted to listen to for the rest of your life

but you could tell he was getting more and more skittish. so you put him out of his misery

"terrible probably wouldn't be my go-to word, it's up there though.. at least i got to meet you." you smiled softly.

Peter's eyes ran over your soft features. night had fallen, so the windows of the plan displayed an almost picturesque display of the moon and stars. the light hue of color the moon provided painted your face in a way that clouded Peter's thoughts.

with your comment of being grateful to have met him, Peter wasn't in control of his mouth for much longer.

"so pretty." he breathed. both of you guys froze.

Peter's face quickly morphed from love-sick to mortified. you blushed violently.

deciding you didn't want Peter to fall into another rant-like apology (because if you got to listen to him talk for that long in this setting, you might just drop the 'L' word) , you said,

"let's watch a movie?"

the two of you sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but being too hyper aware of their thighs pressed together and brushing hands to actually pay attention

upon arrival, both teenagers walked off the plane, sleep deprived , but with thumping hearts and dazed grins.

Peter threw himself on his hotel bed that night,, hiding under the covers

his thoughts replayed your interaction over and over (and over and over) in his head

the boy shoved his head, face first, into the stiff hotel pillow and let out a muffled groan

Peter flipped himself over, stared at the ceiling, before remembering his spouts of unnecessarily long explanations

he thrashed his body, kicking his poor blanket in frustration but most of all, out of embarrassment

he calmed himself down once his memories refreshed themselves over your gentle giggles and how soft your hands were

Peter fell asleep with cherry red cheeks and a blissful grin.

because despite those small mess ups, despite the futile way he beat his covers in humiliation, Peter treasures that day like no other.

#peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x yn #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #peter parker headcanon

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lebenspurpur · 3 years

Text

Violence - RZ Michael Myers

Ehem, TW very violent and suicide. I watched "Antichrist" (2009) and it really inspired me. So yeah be cautious while reading. Female reader as well.

Pairing: Michael Myers x female reader

Summary: Michael finds out about reader’s secret.

Warnings: Heavy Violence, Suicide, I watched "Antichrist" (2009) and it really inspired me. So yeah be cautious while reading.

********************************************************************************

It hurt. A lot.

You've never felt it before.

It's not the warm, clenching pain that you feel when you get a cramp. No matter if its cause was overexertion or something more pleasurable. Such pain crawls up and down your body, it aches and numbs you. Disable you. This pain doesn't disable you.

It wasn't hot pain. Burning yourself hurt like a bitch. The heat, the red boiling skin. The horrid throbbing of your own body's frightful wailing for help. This pain doesn't throb.

It churns your insides. It makes you question whether you want to vomit or immediately scrape your stomach out of your frail skeleton.

You imagine your nails digging into soft skin, warm flesh yearning to relieve the pain you can not bear any longer. They crawl around like little bugs, gripping kidney, lungs and bowel. When they find your stomach they clench and scratch, rip it open like a present and get greeted with white oblivion, space that is unused and empty.

But what did you expect with a knife stuck just a few inches next to your belly button. It sticks out like something that doesn't belong to you. Its surreality calms you, numbs you.

But the worst thing is the torment, the torture inside your skull. It screams, it wails, it cries at you to fight. To prevent the harm that has already been done.

This had been yours. This life. This innocence feeding off of you, relying on you.

And you let it go.

It's too much, you're hazy, you can't think. So many emotions, feelings and thoughts. What should you concentrate on? You don't know, you can't tell.

Reality is what you make it to be.

Right now reality is pain.

Your horrifying sobs scare even him. They're deeper than your usual voice. It's warm like honey and sunlight and when you sing it feels like home. That voice is gone and you don't think it's ever going to return.

Your sobs are paralyzing and grievous and repelling and you hate them. They come from somewhere very deep inside of you, a place that went untouched for so long you don't even remember what it looks like.

You want to bash your skull in. You want to see the red blood, the specks of brain on the white porcelain of the bathtub next to you. You want to vomit because of the revolting sight and feel it leaving your throat. You want to die.

Why are you smiling?

You're full on grinning, the corners of your mouth turned upwards in such an unsettling way. Your cheeks hurt from the amount of pressure you're putting into your expression.

You knew. The knowledge makes you happy, a bitter distressing feeling that sends chills down your spine.

You knew he'd do this. From the second you looked at the test. You leaned over the sink, eyes teary and a hand covering your bashful grin and you laughed. You laughed louder than ever before. Never have you felt such joy, such childlike wonder before.

Then you cried. You screamed, you wailed and you shouted at the empty wooden walls, desperate for someone to listen, to hear and to help.

No one answered your cries.

Your breathing has calmed down, the horrendous sobs quieted.

Your expression is numb, apathetic.

The blood on your abdomen and on the floor is pretty. Such a beautiful sight. It fits so well to the mint and white tiles you had bought together. You remember the afternoon. It was one of the only times he ever left the house with you. You sauntered around the city, hands entwined. Like lovers.

He chose the tiles. You remember his masculine hands tying his long hair together, how you swooned at the simple action and how butterflies immediately erupted under your skin. He scoffed at you.

Your hands draw lazy circles on your tummy and you giggle at the sensation. Sticky, lukewarm blood coats your fingertips and you rub them together, feel the wetness. In other times this would've aroused you. Not today.

You think back.

The big hoodies. The pants you had to stitch up because they were getting small. The glow.

They say pregnant women glow. You saw it.

The golden shimmer on your skin and how it somehow softened everything around you. The gold made you immortal, godlike and frail in its own weird little way.

Now the gold has left. Red replaced it. Tiny little scrabbles with a red pen. Disturbing faces, circles and little bugs. They rip the paper, that's how forceful they're made.

Michael is still standing above you.

He doesn't show guilt. Or remorse.

There's no sign. No sign that he's human, that he cares. You figure he doesn't. Maybe he never did.

Rage overcomes you, blinding excruciating rage and it boils you from the inside. You can only see the anger now, it covers your vision.

You scream as loud as you can. You cry as you tell him how much you hate him, how much he destroyed your life. You wail at your dead child, his dead child.

Michael doesn't move, you didn't think he would. He just stares. You don't even know if he's listening.

The weight of your situation pulls you down. It is too late now. There's only one thing you can do. This plan circled in your mind for ages, now the time has come. You're jot afraid anymore, you're eager.

Sweat breaks out and runs down your bloodied arms as you move your hands. With as much force as possible you pull.

It loosens with a repugnant squelch, the blade still coated with your child. Your reason.

A smile breaks out on your features for the last time. You smile and you laugh and it's genuine.

It lasts for a while, even after the blood around your neck has dried. Michael carries your lifeless body away, he's careful not to lose your head. You cut deep, he's proud and somehow surprised.

Not in one second does he believe that this is his fault. You knew. And you still didn't get rid of it. That was your problem, not his.

#rz michael myers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween 2007 #slasher x reader #horror slasher x reader #female reader

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wolf-2099 · 3 years

Text

To Hell & Back

Ship: Szayelinx

Word Count: 1,340

Summary: Szayelinx reunion because I cannot believe this man. I cannot believe I thought he was canonically dead for years only for him to come back. So now that means I get to write an emotional little ship reunion.

Szayelaporro couldn't hold back a playful smirk as he heard the familiar click click click of his old Fraccion's hooves on the ground as he hesitantly walked towards him.

"Szay..." Phelinx spoke. His voice was shaky. Szayelaporro felt something well up inside of his chest at the familiar sound.

All this time Szayelaporro had been under the impression that the Soul Reapers had found a way to sever Phelinx's immortality and killed him. The Hell Warden was glad they had failed. He was also glad he had failed all of those experiments in the past as well. There was nothing in this world or any others that could make Szayelaporro as happy as he is now. Happiness was something he had long given up on- living only on pure, sadistic glee while in Hell. But this? This was happiness in its purest form.

"Phelinx," Szayelaporro began, "it's been quite some time."

The Arrancar flung himself forward crashing his body into Szayelaporro's. The man staggered but stayed upright, allowing Phelinx to wrap his arms around his body and hold him close as he buried his face in Szayelaporro's chest. The former Espada raised his hand and placed it on top of Phelinx's head gently, feeling a sense of peace settle in whatever shabby remains of a heart he had. What he wasn't expecting was to hear muffled sobs coming from below him.

"Phelinx? Phelinx, are you... Crying?"

Louder sobbing broke out and Szayelaporro froze. For a moment, he was unsure if this was actually his Fraccion. Phelinx had never shown much emotion aside from volatile anger, but he had never once cried in front of Szayelaporro. And now here he was, sobbing into his bare chest.

"I-I-I," Phelinx tried to stammer out the words, but his tears and hiccups made it difficult, "I missed you so-so much, Szay. I-I can't believe, I can't believe it's really you. I thought you were..."

Phelinx was beginning to shake and draw in ragged breaths. The entire situation was greatly unsettling to Szayelaporro. His Fraccion- no, his lover, was shaking and crying in his arms. It made something inside of him feel almost sad himself. Szayelaporro wrapped both of his arms around Phelinx and pulled him in closer and moved to rest his cheek on top of Phelinx's head.

"Quiet now, dear. Are you so displeased with my appearance that you have to cry? I'm almost insulted, I find my current form to be quite beautiful." Szayelaporro joked in a weak attempt to calm down his sobbing lover.

"It's you. It's really you. I thought you were gone forever. I..." Phelinx's sobbing quieted as he pushed back slightly to gaze upward at Szayelaporro. His eyes were red and watery, shining in a way Szayelaporro had never seen before. He did not like it. He never realized just how badly he would give anything to never see Phelinx in this state again.

"I'll admit, I also did not think this moment would ever come. But, Phelinx I must say I am incredibly confused by this shift in personality. Not that it's unwelcomed. One could do without the tears though, but I like these moments when you are not being a vulgar and violent little rat." Szayelaporro chuckled.

The Warden gave a hearty laugh when Phelinx's face scrunched up into a scowl. A familiar expression. He grabbed the sides of Phelinx's face and squished his cheeks as his beloved huffed and spat weak and playful threats at him.

"You're a bastard. You... You were gone for so long, Szay," Phelinx's gaze mellowed into a melancholic expression once more. His lips quivered as a warning that he could cry again easily.

Szayelaporro made a small hmm noise as his hands softened to gently cup Phelinx's cheeks. He blinked in shock as Phelinx moved his hands to mirror Szayel's gentle action.

"You've grown soft, my insufferable little lab rat,"

"I missed you,"

Szayel let out a somber sigh at the words.

"I missed you too, my love,"

Grabbing Phelinx's wrist, Szayelaporro moved his head to the side to plant a gentle kiss to the man's palm. He lingered as the glint of a ring caught his eye.

"Your ring... You kept it this entire time,"

"Of course I did," there was a hint of anger in Phelinx's voice as if offended that Szayelaporro would have doubted him. "Even though I thought you were dead this entire time I never took it off. I couldn't. Part of me wanted to believe that I really would be able to see you again. Like this."

"How unfortunate that I no longer have mine. I hope you will not think any less of me as your husband for that," Szayelaporro raised his dark, skeletal hand. Indeed there was no ring in sight.

Phelinx tilted his head and hesitated for a moment, before scowling once more.

"You lost the ring I made for you? Damn it, Szay!" Phelinx kicked his hooves near Szayel's torso, but could not hold back the little laughs as he did. Szayelaporro smiled at his lover's false anger.

"My apologies, Mr. Granz," Szayel smirked as he watched the blush creep onto his husband's face. "Let me make it up to you then."

Leaning in, Szayelaporro gave a gentle kiss to Phelinx's lips. It was short. Far too short for either of their liking. As Szayelaporro moved away, he watched as the tears welled up once again in Phelinx's eyes and his jaw clenched.

"If I had known a kiss would make you cry, I would have come up with a better apology."

"Damn it, Szay..."

Szayelaporro guided his lover back into his arms as he held him close. His hand coming up to thread through the soft ponytail Phelinx wore.

"I like the new look, Phelinx. You never were one for cutting your hair, but I never thought a length like this would suit you as well as it does. How cute."

"You're one to talk. Look," Phelinx moved back enough to tap the side of his horn against one of Szayelaporro's, "you have horns like I do now. I like it. Not to mention the, uh... Actually, I don't enjoy your new outfit. Would it kill you to cover yourself up a bit more? Geez."

"You expose yourself more than you did back then as well, my love."

"W-W-What? All that changed was my arms are bare. You on the other hand have your entire torso exposed!"

Szayelaporro placed a hand on his chest and swayed dramatically, feigning offense. Phelinx laughed as he playfully punched the man in the shoulder.

"You never change, Szay." Phelinx gives a quiet huff.

"The same cannot be said about yourself, Phelinx. Crying? I didn't know you would ever be capable of such a thing."

Phelinx jabbed again at Szayel's sides.

"Watch it, Granz. Don't take me so lightly just because I unlocked a few hidden emotions I didn't know I had."

Phelinx jabbed once more at Szayelaporro, but a skeletal hand shot out and grabbed him. The two of them hesitated for a moment before moving their hands to hold each other's. Fingers moved to gently rub the cold joints of Szayelaporro's exposed bones. It felt slimy to touch, but not wet. The sensation was weird but did not stop Phelinx from linking their fingers together.

"I know I keep saying it, but I missed you, Szay."

"I missed you too, Phelinx."

"Please don't leave me again. Please."

Szayelaporro stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Reunited with his lover despite thinking both of them had been long deceased? Yes, he did not want this moment to end if he had the choice. Carefully, he tilted his head to nudge his horns against Phelinx’s. It was a small gesture, but one that felt intimate. A wordless ‘I love you” between the two of them. Szayelaporro could get used to this.

"You'll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me again, my dear. I'm not going anywhere without you."

#dragon's writing #🧪#its 5 am but listen i needed to write this for my own sake and happiness. god im so happy i can write NEW LORE #new szayelinx lore in 2021 god bless #theyre both so gentle with each other it feels almost out of character but like. it also doesnt. they are in love even if they both suck

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little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 6

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin was tired of being scolded and threatened. He’d been able to brush it off at first, but in the end it hadn’t taken all that long for him to lose the willpower to be insubordinate.

It wasn’t as if he was...broken or whatever. He wouldn’t describe himself as too afraid to speak altogether. He just...well he just needed a break. Trying to outmatch a giant was exhausting. Plus, Gavin was beginning to wonder whether it was really worth it. Sure it gave him some kind of sense of personal pride and satisfaction, but surely it wasn’t worth getting himself nearly pulverized by an enormous hand.

“This is such a shit storm,” Gavin moaned internally. Leave it to him to make his absolute mess of a situation somehow even worse.

As tempted as he was to glance up at Rael to try and get a read on his current mood, Gavin resisted. If he was going to be quiet, he was going to do it in the most pouty way possible. He’d act almost as if the alteon didn’t exist--which was pretty difficult considering he was literally attached to the guy, but whatever.

For about fifteen minutes the two of them went on in complete silence. Gavin’s urge to run his mouth was growing more and more intense, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. Just when he thought for sure he’d blurt something out, Rael’s walking suddenly took a sudden turn.

Gavin lifted his gaze to peer out through iron bars. He was met with the sight of what to Rael was probably no more than a stream, but to Gavin looked like a terrifying torrent of fast running water. He had never been particularly afraid of water, his parents had forced him to take swim lessons when he was eight after all. However, literal giant sized bodies of water were quite different from the chlorine filled pool at the local YMCA.

Before Gavin could argue with himself about whether or not he should ask Rael what he was doing, a pair of giant hands swooped into view. In a matter of moments, the cage was once again unhooked from Rael’s belt. “What’s happening?” The words flew out of Gavin’s mouth before he could stop them. So much for the silent treatment.

“I figured you wouldn’t like to dangle over the water while I’m getting a drink,” Rael responded. Gavin tightened his grip on the bars of his cage as his captor moved to set the thing down on a nearby rock.

Of course Gavin wasn’t going to say so to Rael, but he was grateful to not have to go anywhere near that stream. Plus, he was happy for any chance to be on solid ground and not hanging from a giant's belt.

“That can’t be all that sanitary,” Gavin thought to himself as he observed Rael sipping the stream water from a cupped hand. Although the water was probably moving fast enough for it to be considered safe, Gavin still didn’t trust water that fish could pee in.

It was at that moment that a deep rumbling caused Gavin’s cage to shudder slightly. The quakes were repetitive and had a rhythm similar to Rael’s footsteps. However, the tremors couldn’t have been caused by Rael, because he was still leaning over the creek.

A feeling of dread began to rise up in Gavin, but before he could call out to Rael, his cage was snatched up into the air. He was thrown around harshly from the movements that were somehow even sharper and more violent than Rael’s. When the tumultuous experience came to an abrupt halt, Gavin looked up to see the face of a giant stranger staring in at him.

While the weather was fairly pleasant, without any uncomfortable humidity, Rael had found himself feeling quite parched. Perhaps he’d dried out his throat from shouting at the human. He supposed it would serve him right for losing his temper. Either way, Rael decided a quick stop at a nearby stream to get a drink wouldn’t hurt. Gavin was still being quiet and well behaved, which continued to unsettle Rael, but at least it meant he wouldn’t kick up any kind of fuss if they stopped for a moment.

After setting the cage and its occupant aside, Rael went to scoop up some handfuls of water. The cool, clear water was quick to soothe Rael’s throat. He was in the middle of taking a nice long sip when he heard a sudden commotion coming from behind him.

He whipped around to see two alteons, a man and a woman. The woman’s skin was a touch lighter than Rael’s own. Her curly auburn hair was cut short above her shoulders, and she was dressed in makeshift armor, with a sword hanging from a sheath at her hip. The man’s skin was tan, but the lack of melanin suggested he hailed from a different region from that which they resided in. His dark brown hair was closely cropped, and he had a distinct scar underneath his right eye. However, what stood out most to Rael about the man was the fact that he was currently holding Gavin’s cage in his hand.

Rael had failed to bring a sword with him on this assignment, primarily because he hadn’t expected to need it when dealing with humans. Aside from that, the woods surrounding Ostrad were considered to be quite safe due to the relentless patrols the Emperor sent out. It was for this reason that Rael had felt fairly confident he wouldn’t have to worry about encountering any kind of brigands or ruffians. “This really isn’t my day,” he sighed internally.

Catching sight of Gavin cowering inside his cage, faced with a giant stranger whose intentions were unknown to him, Rael felt an unexpected wave of sympathy. Those tiny hazel eyes stared back at Rael in desperation, as if silently begging him to come to his aid.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the dark haired man asked in amusement as he observed the human in his grasp. “Don’t tell me this is a real life human?”

While the man seemed unfazed by Rael’s presence, his companion didn’t appear to feel the same way. She stood a ways back, eyeing Rael nervously. Chances were, she suspected he had some kind of affiliation with the palace despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing the official Imperial emblem or colors.

“Damn, when people said they were tiny, I didn’t think they meant this tiny,” the thug mused, now holding Gavin’s cage at eye level so he could get a closer look. “I’ve seen rats bigger than this!”

While Rael didn’t have a real weapon on him, he did have a small dagger strapped to the back of his belt. Though he was itching to make a grab for it, he held back. There was a chance he could handle the situation without threat of violence. Already, the woman clearly didn’t seem eager for a fight with him.

“Excuse me, but that human is under the protection of his majesty the Emperor,” Rael stated coldly, taking a few slow steps closer to the man. He was pleased to see the smirk the brigand was wearing waver slightly as he realized exactly what he was interfering with.

“You’re a member of the Imperial Guard,” the woman surmised, speaking up for the first time.

The man glanced back at his partner briefly before returning his gaze to Rael. He had a smile on his face, but it was stiff and almost forced. He no doubt was aware that he was in a precarious situation, dealing with the Imperial Guard, but was attempting to put on a confident facade. “Ah, I guess it makes sense to only send one guard if all you’re guarding is this little thing,” he remarked.

Rael narrowed his eyes. It was obvious the man was fishing for information, trying to determine whether or not there were other soldiers lurking around. If he thought he and his partner could take Rael, then he would likely try to make off with Gavin. A human would sell for a hefty sum on the black market. Aletons would probably even pay just to catch a glimpse of a real life human.

“If you’re intending on attempting to take that human, I would suggest you rethink,” Rael said darkly. “Even if you manage to overcome me, you will soon have the entirety of the Emperor’s army pursuing you.” He wouldn’t pretend to have backup hidden somewhere in the trees, that was a bluff that could easily fall short. Instead, he would once again make fear his tool. “Once you’re caught, your punishment will undoubtedly be death.”

There was no need for Rael to lie. Within recent years, death had become less and less prevalent as a punishment with the Emperor. However, it was still utilized in extreme cases, such as treason. Knowing how cautious the Emperor was with human-alteon relations, Rael could only assume he would consider kidnapping a human to be treasonous.

Fear instantly flashed across the curly-haired woman’s face. She took a small step back, as if to distance herself from the entire situation. Meanwhile, her companion appeared to have become provoked by Rael’s words. An angry scowl replaced the sly one he had been wearing, and he was clutching Gavin’s cage in what seemed to be a possessive manner. “As if you have any right to be possessive over him,” Rael growled mentally.

“If we kill you, no one will have any idea who nabbed the little rat,” the man hissed, shaking the cage in a way that made Rael strangely furious.

Gavin had thought the way Rael handled him was about as bad as it could get. It really sucked being proven wrong. He didn’t know who the hell this random alteon that had grabbed him was, but he was somehow worse than Rael, which was quite the feat.

Ever since being snatched up, Gavin had no doubt developed a countless number of bruises as a result of this man’s rough treatment. It was like he didn’t even take into account that there was a living, breathing person inside. “There’s not going to be a living, breathing person inside for much longer if this doesn’t let up,” Gavin thought as he was again thrown against the bars by a violent shake from his new captor.

Rael seemed to be attempting to talk the man down, though of course he could only assume as much considering they were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was was taking much too long for Gavin’s liking. He couldn’t believe he actually wanted to be back in Rael’s hands. But at this point, anything seemed better than being jerked around like some kind of toy. The lesser of two evils and all that.

As much as Gavin wanted to shout out obscenities at the alteon, he managed to bite his tongue. Rael seemed like he knew what he was doing, and Gavin didn’t want to screw it up by saying something stupid. His willpower really was being severely tested today.

Gavin heard someone shout something. The voice sounded feminine, and though he couldn’t see nor understand the alteon woman, he could hear the urgency in her voice.

Gavin’s captor, whom he had gathered was named “Kaydin”, jostled the cage. Most of what the man was saying went right over Gavin’s head, but he did catch him rubbing his fingers together in a money gesture. It was then that Gavin realized what exactly these people wanted him for. He had taken a lot of hits to his ego in the last couple hours, but being treated as merchandise to sell was really doing a number.

Why exactly alteons would spend money buying a human was beyond him. All the possibilities that flashed through his mind made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he already did thanks to Kaydin’s manhandling.

The woman shot back an angry retort, which was quickly followed by the sound of retreating footsteps that announced her departure. This left only Kaydin to face off against Rael.

Kaydin spat out more vicious words. Gavin glanced up to see sweat droplets beginning to form on the giant’s forehead. The guy knew he was in trouble.

Rael spoke up in his own language. It was still strange for Gavin to hear. Rael’s English was so good, he sometimes forgot it wasn’t his native tongue.

Gavin stared up at Kaydin’s face, trying to determine what his next move would be based on his facial expressions. He didn’t know what Rael had said, but he could only hope it had been convincing.

If it came down to it, he felt fairly confident that a trained soldier like Rael would win in a fight against this man who seemed to be the alteon equivalent of a mugger. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t sure he’d survive being caught in the middle of a clash of giants.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #my writing

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bluebuckstallion · 3 years

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the sun will rise again - mlp fic

part two this is part one! part two and so on will be updated/reblogged when they are out! contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!)

Big Mac shuffled his hooves awkwardly. Racing thoughts fought furiously, cluttering his hurting head, and he put a weary hoof against his temple in an attempt to clear the fog. No avail. It was as strong as ever, the rushing current of rip tide sweeping him in the more he struggled. He insisted he'd never felt this way before, trying violently to shake away the thought, it made him shudder. But deep down somewhere he knew, he couldn't hide this strong feeling he'd become so familiar with. It felt like home, but he was trapped inside with the windows boarded and the floorboards were so old they were making him fall through with every step, and there were thick dusty cobwebs everywhere he tried to rest his burdened hooves. He couldn't leave. Outside of his overflowing head, there was a faint knocking at his door, though he had tuned it out completely. His thoughts whirled, and everything was making *so* much noise, the ceiling fan, the electricity in the walls, the birds outside, even the trees being rustled by the evening wind. Everything was so loud, and so muffled and far away, so close and inside his ears, they twitched eagerly trying to bat the harsh noise away, all collected into one horrid ear-piercing amalgamation of staticy sound. His fur was disturbed by his blankets, and his teeth felt uncomfortable as they grit desperately in an attempt to relax, his eyes were dry despite how much and how hard he was blinking, it felt like even the smallest thing would throw him overboard in this thundering storm of unsettlement. -

The knocking got louder. "Big Mac!" The sound was lost in the chaos of it all, but it prevailed. "Big Mac!" There it was again. It didn't quite reach him yet, though. But my, was it there. Incessant. Pounding. Oh, the headache of it all. Just adding to the pile. It hesitated. "Big Mac." The gentle coo reached him, piercing through the overwhelmingly loud silence in the air, he felt this odd choking sensation in his throat when he registered the voice, so familiar and so loving. But would it continue to be after this? The thought scared him. Fear struck his spine in striking bolts, waves of dread sulked, creeping in and making their nest in his aching body. He was so tired of coming back to this again and again, but it plagued his mind like a cold. He realized his internal monologue had been ongoing - even though it hadn't really spoke - but alas he had been lost in his own downward spiral of paranoia again, and had forgotten to respond. "Yu- uh- eeyup?" he stuttered out like he was drowning, he felt and sounded like a silly foal learning to walk for the first time again. He pushed his hoof lightly against his throat, shocked at his own lack of voice. Usually he was calm and confident, knowing what he wanted to say, despite how little it ever was. However he feared this would give way to his sister finding out, that she would know something was awry with him. "Can I, uh, come in?" the voice questioned. He nodded, then processed he had forgotten to use his words, and managed a sheepish "Yup." "Uh, okay." She responded equally as softly, her voice leaving a tinge of confusion to be interpreted. Applejack trotted in, her hooves making the wood beneath her creak as the old house settled. She nudged the door shut behind her nonchalantly with her back hoof, not taking her gaze off of what was ahead of her. She made a gesture towards Big Mac's bed and tilted her head, knowing he was a horse of few words, moreso when he got this way. And goodness, how he could manage to get into his own head. Applejack understood the feeling, more than he was letting on. Applejack got up and sat down awkwardly, glancing at her hooves as they, too, dragged over one another slowly, she never did like eye contact. Big Mac was more fidgety - he was straight-up restless, as he clapped his hooves together ceaselessly, clicking them atop one another with a hard "Clink." The silence was substantial, but it wasn't like it bothered them, usually. It drove Big Mac up the wall, he was sweating buckets thinking about what Applejack could possibly say. *Did she find out? Does she know? Does she hate me? She hates you. She knows and she hates you. She'll never forgive you. She'll never see you the same-* his thoughts were cut off abruptly. "So, big brother," she chuckled stiffly, "what's on your mind?" Blunt and to the point. She looked upward briefly, catching a glimpse of his face, caught in an uncomfortable twist as his mouth hung downward and his eyes sunk, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them looked at the other, but this again, was not unusual. When she said 'brother,' the word stung like a mosquito bite. It was barely there, but just enough to irritate him. And it grew bigger the more he picked away at it and gave it the time of day. Maybe if he just ignored it it'd heal itself, he thought. Her words in general hung high above his head, and he had forgotten to respond with the way he was over-analyzing it a million different ways inside. What was on his mind, besides this scary, burning question gnawing him alive? He gave a lackluster response to divert any inkling of anxiety, "Oh, nothing," and with that he kicked his back hooves loosely up, and they swung back down heavily in the empty air. What else could he say? The silence sat for a couple of seconds. Too long for Applejack's liking, she was growing a bit impatient with his lack of answers. She looked up and moved her head upward in tune with her eyes, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other as her lips pouted and she let out a quick exhale. She looked down at her teetering hooves again. "Nothing..." she repeated, tapping her hooves together about three times, give or take, she wasn't paying attention. "Oookay.." she said in a quiet tone, and the cadence in her voice had shifted after this minute or two of waiting. She scratched the back of her ear. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself." She looked up and beamed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, which came out rather awkward. It fell just as awkwardly. She wasn't the best at conveying emotion, but neither was Big Mac. They had that in common. "Ok, I'll spit it out, rapid-fire," she said funnily, holding her hooves up and moving one in front of the other and back again in tune with the quirky enunciation of the last word. If nothing else, she was making an attempt to lift his low spirit. She inhaled, "Is it about me? About Ma or Pa? *Granny?* Baby Bloom?" and with that she exhaled overexaggeratedly. It took a second, but the half-smile she had faded from her face as he stood there saying nothing, simply folding one hoof over his other arm, rubbing it rigidly and looking away, and what she hoped was not true, had hit her. It was about himself. "Oh.. brother," she whispered to him, "You can tell me anything," she reached her hoof up toward him, pulling it back when it was halfway there as she winced at his lack of response, not even a lean-in to her gesture, but she continued anyway. She gingerly put her hoof on his shoulder. Becoming more confident with her comforting, she rubbed his back gently. "So it's about you?" He took a second, and nodded somberly. "Hey, that's alright. Tell me what's on your mind for real now, when you're ready. If, you're ready." AJ's voice, he found, was quite calming. Big Mac shot a glance at her timidly, then down at her hooves, and back up at her, but he couldn't look too long in order to stop the waterworks from coming. He gulped dryly and looked at the wall, and after the ceiling. He watched the fan dodder decrepitly, but so sure of itself, it's purpose, rotating on it's axis, again, and again, and again. He wished he could be so sure of himself, he wasn't sure if he ever could be, though. And here, he found himself envying the rotating of a ceiling fan. What an interesting moment, he thought sarcastically to himself. Was this really where he was at? He zoned out briefly, watching the blades go in circles, and then snapped himself back to reality with a hard blink, a downward motion of his head, and a squeezing of his hooves. "I..." he started softly and then trailed off. He sighed in dejection. "I- Well, I am me. But... I'm not. I look in the mirror, and it's not me looking back. I know that sounds... stupid, but it's not me. It's not like it isn't who I am, it's just not me. And I, don't know why. I mean I think I do, but I don't - sometimes-" He took a second to collect himself and inhaled, exhaling sharply after, he put his hoof firmly against his chest, as if almost trying to coax the words out. "I'm me, but I'm not. I'm not who I'm meant to be, I, I was born wrong. My body is wrong," he shook his head, like trying to shake the bad thoughts away. "It's not mine. I was born with something wrong about me, outside, inside I'm me, but outside I'm not. But - I'm not bad or anything, it's just that there was something different. And, you know that funny feeling of those butterflies in your tummy when someone you like says your name? I'll get that, but I won't recognize my name as mine, but I do get that feeling when...ponies accidentally call me what they call fillies, even though they don't mean to and fix 'emselves right after, and they act like it's so wrong, but I still get that funny feeling of, goodness. It catches me off guard in the best way... my heart skips a beat. And I know I'm s'posed to like girls, but there was something wrong about me lovin' 'em... it feels like. I feel real guilty-like when I start getting all lovey about one. It feels like I'm not allowed, like there's somethin'.." he teared up, "different. About me." He emphasized the last word quite significantly. He began to finish, not wordvomitting as much as he was before, instead saying it slowly, as if he was really trying hard to get his thoughts out. "I- I think, I think if I were born in the right body I'd be happier, but I don't want to change me, I just...want to change how people *see me."* Applejack raised her eyebrows and looked down, pushing her hooves together. She couldn't move, and she didn't. Big Mac's welling up had turned to a tear, gently rolling down his cheek. He held his breath, eyes darting back and forth from his sister's gaze - or lack thereof. Applejack held her breath as well. "Big mac, well - gosh." she let out staggeredly, anxiously chuckling, raising her hoof to her chest as she exhaled bluntly. Big Mac felt it coming, Roaring and Crashing. The water was surrounding him still, no matter how subtle it was before, it had been growing this whole time. Internal dread multiplying like a bilious bacteria, out to get him and cover him in it's killing spores. It must've been at least neck-high now. AJ chuckled, "Big Mac, I love you no matter what. You're my family." She looked him in the eyes, "It's gonna be ok." And there was the straw that broke the camel's back. It came through gently, like a soft breeze through his hair in summer, but it broke him so, so ruthlessly. He bit at his bottom lip and released, his mouth turning to a shaky U-shaped frown, and he bawled. Oh, how he bawled. He lunged for his sister's arms, which quickly opened for him to land in. Applejack huffed as the wind left her with his impact, but she regained control of herself and softly smiled, tenderly hugging him back. His head rested on hers, as hers on his. "It's alright big guy," she laughed. "In fact, I think I know exactly what's up." She pushed him off cautiously, and held her hoof against his shoulder. His tears subsided slightly, he wiped them with a trembling hoof. "Have you ever thought that maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body, because you're really a mare? I know nobody sees you that way right now, but I could start if that's who you really are." Big mac's pupils constricted, and he felt a leap in his chest. A mare? He tried so hard to push it out, but he couldn't. A mare. A mare! He let out a small smile, "A mare..." he then promptly shook his head. "But, I can't be. I wish it was that easy, that I could just be a mare, oh I wish so bad AJ," he put his hooves together and shook them, like he was pleading. He pushed her hoof off of him, sighing and speaking again, his voice cracking from the tears and raw emotion, "But I never could. I couldn't. I wish I could, but I'm not allowed to." he sighed defeatedly. Applejack chuckled, "Says who? All it takes is you saying you can. And I'll be honest, I feel like a lot of people don't give it much thought whether they want to be a mare or not - they just are." It all clicked. They, just are. He processed it for a second, and thought, and the thoughts slipped into words, "I'm a mare," he whispered. He smiled, the most genuine smile he'd ever shown. "I'm, a mare." He laughed, looking at Applejack. "A mare! I'm a mare!" His smile faded slightly, "But Applejack, am I still allowed to like other fillies? I figure now I'll have to like colts, that's what I've heard at least, and I really don't want to-" despite his concerns, he still looked quite euphoric. Applejack laughed again, "No, Big Mac, you can still like mares. It doesn't work that way I'm pretty sure." She rubbed the back of her head, "If it's any help, you can do whatever you want... What feels right." She closed her mouth and grinned, waving her hoof in the air dismissively of any negativity, her eyes in the other direction. Stopping, she looked at the ground and fiddled her hooves, "I, I actually know a lot about how you're feeling," she spoke nervously, cautiously, dancing around her words like she had something she didn't want to admit to herself as well. "I, know how you feel - about liking mares and, and the wrong body an' stuff. Feeling like your body isn't yours, it doesn't belong to you and never will, unless you make a big change, or somethin'. I get it. I feel wrong when people say I'm a girl, but I don't reckon I'd feel right with them callin' me a boy or something either - I don't think I really feel like either." She paused, cutting herself off, "I don't expect that to make sense to you, I know it's kind of weird and all." Big Mac thought for a bit, and then nodded, "No, I get it. I mean - I don't, but, I know you're you, no matter what, and I don't care who you are, you're still my sibling." Big Mac smiled nervously, trying to make sure he was doing the right thing. "And you're my sister, Big Mac," Applejack smiled back at him. "Now, how do you feel about me calling you by girl terms? Like, sayin' she, and stuff..." she struggled to think of an example. "Oh! Like, if I meet someone, I'll tell 'em "Oh Big Mac? She's my big sister!" Applejack let out a wide twinkling grin, feeling confident and proud with supporting her sister's feelings. "I, I like that." Big Mac said shyly, and she did. "Wait, how do I do the same for you?" she questioned. Applejack stalled, she really didn't think she'd get this far. "I think... I really like being called he, and brother and such. Although to be honest I'm not your sister and I'm not really your brother, and I still like other fillies - but I'm not one of them, or not in the same way, and - I don't know, it's a little confusing. I think the only way that I'm a filly is in the sense that I'm a mare who likes other mares. I don't really know what any of this is called," he voiced embarrassedly. "I wish I did." Big Mac smirked, "It's okay you don't, I don't know either. And we can learn together, little brother." She fluffed Applejack's hair playfully and her smirk became a toothy smile. Applejack laughed and joined her smiling. "Thanks," he said, quite gratefully. "To be honest, I've known this for a really long time, I just didn't know how to say it," he looked out the window longingly, "I wish I knew how to tell Ma and Pa, or Granny," he laughed a little, "and I don't even know how to tell a baby," he uttered, trying to lighten the mood a little after bringing it back down. Big mac grinned, "Why don't we go out to the orchard, little brother?"

#applejack mlp #big mac mlp #mlp fanfic #mlp fic #mlp writing #mlp au #mlp #applejack #big mac #trans applejack #trans big mac #my little pony #lesbian applejack #lesbian big mac #orchard blossom #trans au #the sun will rise again

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